Hi everyone! Thank you for the patience while I had a bit of a longer break between uploads. January is a funny month, but it's February now! Whee!
Here is the first part of chapter 10. I hope you enjoy it! Things are definitely heating up between Alistair and Roselyn, wouldn't you say?
- Chapter summary: As Maric and Calian prepare to leave, the King offers some parting advice to Alistair. The first council meeting headed by Alistair gets underway, and the members of Maric's council who have remained at court while he is gone are not going to make the transition and easy one. Alistair and Roselyn have their work cut out for them.
- Credit to razerthane and bluvixen (both on tumblr) for being my thorough and conscientious beta readers. 3 I feel like my writing has improved because of them.
- Chapter rating: Mature [nsfw]
Month: Beginning of August
On the morning of Cailan and Maric's departure to Orlais, the palace was in chaos. Outside, carriages were piled up with trunks of clothes and gifts of goodwill from Maric to the Empress and her court. Servants ran back and forth, shouting at each other for items to be found and packed or unpacked last minute. Meanwhile, Maric and Cailan waited with the horses along with Anora, Alistair, Teagan, and Roselyn.
Maric bid his councillors and court farewell the night before in a lavish banquet; one last hurrah to show off to the ambassadors and to make sure their report back to Celene was favourable and complimentary. The initial plan was that Maric and Cailan would travel to the port in Denerim with the ambassadors, Anora, Alistair, and Roselyn where they would say their farewells. But Anora was unwell and barely able to stand let alone travel through the city, so Maric's plans were changed.
The ambassadors were already seated in the first of three carriages and ready to leave. During their visit Roselyn could recall speaking to them only twice. They spoke little Ferelden and her Orlesian was not as good as it could have been, plus they both seemed overwhelmed by how much effort Maric was putting into their visit that their attention was easily stolen. From what she glimpsed of them that morning, they both looked a little worse-for-wear but pleased to be returning to their home country after being away so long.
Cailan was his usual self, jostling and jesting with his father and a few of the guards who would escort them through the city to the port. She noticed in the few days since Maric told her and Alistair they would be leaving that Cailan was far more jubilant than usual. He was louder and more intense - if that was possible. His attentions turned away from her, something she was grateful for, and she overheard him almost singing the praises of the Orlesian Empress he was to meet with his father.
Roselyn knew little of Empress Celene; only that she was Empress, she was well liked by her country - despite some of her questionable choices and companions - and she enjoyed bestowing gifts and treasures on the favourites of her court. She was also notoriously fickle. A favourite could be an outcast in less than a week when it came to Celene. She was known for having a fickle nature, caring perhaps too much what her people thought of her where Maric did not care enough.
The more emphasis was put into the visit of Maric and Cailan to Orlais, the more Roselyn began to wonder if the treaties really were the reason for it. She was certain the adjustments needing to be made to the treaties was a genuine excuse, but not the whole reason. She was beginning to think Maric had intentions to marry again. It would make sense to ally Ferelden and Orlais in a more permanent way than just pieces of paper, and Queen Rowan was dead over a decade. It made sense for him to want to marry again. If that was the case, she hoped Celene would be a good influence on him. That perhaps she might curb some of his more outlandish behaviours.
Alistair was a nervous wreck. He stood beside her on the steps, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He had been uneasy since the night Maric told them he was leaving Alistair in charge - now that uneasiness seemed to have turned to pure terror. Alistair had not thought his father was serious, now it was dawning on him just how serious his father was. Ferelden would be his responsibility for the next month or more and he was not handling it well.
She knew how much it weighed upon him, too. She woke several times to find him gone from their bed in the dead of night and found him wide awake in the presence chamber, staring out of windows or a the pages of a book, not reading. His fear was founded, she knew that. Cailan was the one who was taught how to run a country, to take over after Maric's death. Whatever Maric's plan was in leaving Ferelden in Alistair's hands, he was going to turn his youngest son prematurely grey.
Teagan, however, was on hand and had been since Maric's announcement to the court that Alistair would be in charge. Roselyn was certain he was sent by the Maker; he was calm and collected, and seemed to have that effect on Alistair. He took them both aside in the lead up to Maric's departure to discuss things: how councils would be dealt with while the King and crown Prince were away and how Alistair would need to deal with petitioners on a daily basis while trying to fit in his usual lessons with Ephraim and his combat instructors. He tried to assure them both that they would easily fall into the role of temporary rulership and find it easy after a week or so. Both Alistair and Roselyn were less confident, but Teagan promised he would be on hand to assist them with whatever they needed.
As the last of the trunks where heaved on top of the carriages and the grooms began to lash them into place for the journey through the city, Maric turned his attentions to those standing on the steps. He glanced at Anora, who had a light sweat on her brow and leaned on the wall for support. Given the fact that she spent most of the night awake and heaving, she looked better and more composed than most would.
"Why so glum?" Maric asked, turning his attention to Alistair. "You'll be fine."
"If you return to a kingdom in ruins, remember it was your idea to put me in charge." Alistair replied, only half-joking. Roselyn knew just how heavily this responsibility weighed upon him. He spoke about it to her only a few times, but those times were enough for her to recognise his anxiety.
"You'll be fine," repeated Maric, smacking him on the shoulder. "I have every faith in you."
Alistair gave a strangled laugh and pushed his hand through his hair. "Wonderful."
"It's not like you could do anything father and I can't undo when we return," Cailan chimed in, coming to his father's side. He was like a child on Wintersend, giddy and excitable. Roselyn thought him almost endearing - if only it wasn't for the other parts of his personality which made him odious.
"Well, that makes me feel so much better," Alistair bit back at his brother. The animosity between them was still as strong as it had been since the tourney and the masquerade almost a month ago. The playfulness of their relationship was gone. Something had changed between them and Roselyn was not certain what it was.
"I'm only trying to help," snorted Cailan, folding his arms across his chest. "You should be grateful for this opportunity. It's probably the only chance you'll ever get at ruling Ferelden." His lips pulled into a sneer and he rocked back onto his heels.
Alistair stiffened beside Roselyn and she placed an hand upon his arm. "Try not to drown, Cailan," Alistair retorted, causing Cailin to growl and clench his jaw. "Then again, with all that hot air you'd probably float all the way to Orlais anyway." Cailan's eyes widened. Alistair turned his gaze to their father. "If you lose the wind just have Cailan talk into the sails. You'll probably make better time."
A loud laugh rumbled up from Maric's chest. He looked between his two sons, grinning - almost beaming - with pride, as if this aggression was something to be proud of.
"Where did you find your backbone?" Cailan asked, bitingly. His gaze turned to Roselyn and she felt it wander down over her and back up. Her stomach coiled and she fought not to retreat behind Alistair away from Cailan's eyes. "Hidden between your wife's legs?"
Taking a step towards his brother, Alistair snarled at him. "I swear, if you-"
"Alistair," Maric interjected with a low sigh. He lifted a brow on his face and rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his eyes. "While I enjoy the two of you barking back and forth, the tide won't wait. You can continue your arguing when we return from Orlais."
Cailan snorted, "Fine." He turned on his heel, marching towards the carriage.
"Cailan!" Maric barked. Cailan stopped and turned to his father, sweeping his blond hair out of his eyes. "Say goodbye to Anora."
Casting a distasteful eye at his wife, Cailan stomped towards her like a petulant child being told to greet his least favourite aunt. He bowed and took one of her hands to kiss the back of it, almost grimacing as he did so. As he rose to stand to his full height, he wore a sly smile across his lips. "Look after yourself while I'm away."
"I will." Anora nodded her head a little. "And you. Be careful on the ship. Remember you get seasick."
"Yes," Cailan grit his teeth. "Thank you..." A moment's pause and he stepped towards her, dropping his voice low enough that Roselyn struggled to hear him. "Things will be different when I return." Cailan pressed a chaste kiss to Anora's mouth. "I promise."
An enigmatic smile curved across her mouth. "I know they will." He kissed her again, brief and more for show than through any real affection, turned and marched back to the carriage where he climbed in and waited for Maric.
"You will be fine," said Maric keeping his voice soft while he spoke to Alistair and Roselyn. "I wouldn't have entrusted the running of Ferelden to the two of you if I didn't think you could manage it."
"Your faith is..." Alistair sighed. "Anora is probably better suited to look after Ferelden in your absence. She has more experience and a better head on her shoulders."
"Two heads are better than one," Maric retorted almost playfully. He glanced between Alistair and Roselyn, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I did not expect this marriage to create a capable pair, but... you have surprised me."
"Your Majesty?" Roselyn cocked her head.
"Whatever effect you've had on my son, it's good. He's grown bolder with you at his side." His eyes on Alistair turned fond in their glance. "Perhaps that's what he needed, some support. Something I, regretfully, did not give him."
"I am standing right here," mentioned Alistair, burning scarlet around his ears and his forehead. Maric chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "I can hear you talking about me. I am not suddenly deaf."
"I know you can," sighed Maric, "and it's high time I was honest with you."
Alistair's face contorted into one of suspicious wariness. "Honest about what...?"
"A lot of things." Maric said, mostly to himself and nodded. "When I return you and I will talk. About you, about me... about your mother."
"M-my mother?"
"Mhm." Maric nodded again. "There are some truths about her you should know." Roselyn watched the sincerity and fondness almost melt from the King's face. He grew harder in his expression, more severe. "The first council will be the hardest. Do not let them bully you or boss you around. You are my word, my voice while I am gone. They should treat you as they treat me - do not be afraid to remind them of that."
"Right." Alistair's head jerked into a brief nod. "Any other advice?"
Maric chuckled. "Only to trust your instinct and your wife." He smiled at Roselyn making her feel on edge in an instant. She was not used to Maric being kind or thoughtful. His gentle words and disarming compliments were confusing and not like the man she knew as King. "I think she will be an asset to this family."
"Finally, something I agree with you on," Alistair grinned, sliding an arm around Roselyn's waist and pulling her against him. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she blushed, dropping her gaze to the floor. "She's quite something."
"Stop it." She shoved him half-heartedly which only made Alistair clutch her tighter to him and Maric's familiar rumbling laugh tumble out of his mouth.
"For your efforts with the Alienage I have given some names to Teagan of people you might use," Maric explained. "Duncan is a friend of mine, a Grey Warden, and a fair and just man. I think he'll be helpful when it comes to dealing with the elves. And..." he paused and Roselyn noticed he almost seemed to hesitate before he spoke. "Fiona. A skilled healer. She's a mage from Orlais, but has permission to travel to Ferelden to assist here. Utilise them both."
"Duncan and Fiona." Alistair repeated as if putting their names to memory. "Got it. We're going to visit the Alienage as soon as this council meeting is finished. We want to get started right away."
"Good." Maric rocked on his heels. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, words wanting to be said by a man who viewed himself too strong to say them. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth once and closed it again, his brows furrowing into the same frown Alistair sometimes wore.
"Well, I hope you have a good journey," Alistair blurted out. "Smooth sailing and all that."
"Thank you," Maric nodded. "And I hope I don't return to a country on the brink of civil war for whatever reason."
Alistair laughed awkwardly, "I make no promises."
Placing a hand on his son's shoulder, Maric's expression softened. "In all truth, Alistair, I know you can do this. I would not have given you this responsibility if I did not think you could undertake it."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"And I know I don't always act it but..." Maric gulped down a mouthful of air, "whatever you may think, I am proud that you're my son."
"F... Fath-..." Alistair blinked hard. "I... You don't have..." He sighed, and pushed a hand through his hair. "Thank you."
A small smile quirked at the corners of Maric's mouth before he retracted his hand and straightened to his full height. "Look after Ferelden while I'm away."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Alistair bowed and Roselyn dropped into a curtsey. "I hope you have a safe journey."
"Thank you, boy." Maric bowed briefly to them before retreating into the carriage where Cailan was waiting. The driver snapped the reins and the four horses broke into a trot, their hooves echoing off the cobbles and the walls of the palace. Anora disappeared inside with the help of Teagan before the carriages were out of view, but Roselyn remained on the steps with Alistair, squeezing his hand in the hopes he found her grasp supportive.
Once the carriages were gone from sight, Alistair released a long, slow breath Roselyn thought he must have been holding the whole time. She tilted her head back to look at him, offering a small smile which he returned albeit weakly. As he pressed a kiss to her forehead, she wrapped her arms around his waist able to feel him almost trembling through his clothes.
"I suppose we should get this council meeting underway," Alistair mumbled against her temple. He groaned a little. "I really don't want to."
"I know." Roselyn lifted one hand to stroke across his jaw. "I'll be there though, and Teagan. You won't be alone."
"Thank the Maker for that," he sighed. Roselyn stepped away and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. She gave his arm a gentle tug, guiding him up the steps and he followed. The palace was calmer now the King and Cailan were departed. Servants returned to their normal duties, bustling and hurrying around to catch up on things they put aside to help with packing.
The main chamber where petitioners and courtiers waited to see the King was emptier than usual. Roselyn knew many returned to their homes while Maric was away, thinking Alistair would be useless and that it was pointless for them to present their requests to him. She was going to prove them all wrong. She was going to help Alistair prove himself to every noble, every courtier, every single person who ever doubted him. And more than that, she was going to prove to Alistair himself that he was better than he believed.
Teagan was already in the council chamber when the guards pushed the doors open for the two of them. The distasteful gazes of old, traditional men staring down their noses as the King's bastard son and his outspoken little wife as they entered. They would not make Alistair's job of ruling in his father's stead an easy one. They would fight his choices, his wishes, and his goals tooth and nail while making comparisons to Maric and Cailan.
Alistair knew these men in the guise of a Prince who would never rule and never have responsibility. They were unhappy he was now in a position of power, even if that position was a temporary one and he was acting on behalf of his father. Alistair was painfully under-prepared for the tricks and treachery these ennobled men would throw his way. Roselyn was not.
She grew up she sitting in meetings and council sessions with her father and the Banns who lived in lands of Highever. She knew how their minds worked, how they would twist and squirm and try to manipulate words being said to their own ends. She would not allow any of them to make a fool of Alistair while he tried his hardest, as he always did. She would protect him from their biting words and sneering remarks, and Maric would return to a council on bended knee to Alistair - not the other way around.
They took their seats beside each other and opposite Teagan, leaving Maric's chair vacant. Teagan shuffled a few papers across to Alistair for him to read through and skim over. The councillors shifted and moved in their seats, waiting for the meeting to begin. Roselyn knew those remaining by sight only, having perhaps spoken only a word or two to most of them in her time at the palace.
Closest to her was Arl Gallagher Wulff of West Hills; old, gnarled, set in his ways. He was someone who would have been happier in his homestead and relinquishing his title to his offspring, if he had any. Beside Arl Wulff was one of one of the most traditional of all Maric's councillors and one of his most staunches supporters: Bann Ceorlic from the Southron Hills. He was vocal in the months gone when it came to the Orlesians and their visit. Roselyn was amazed Maric did not have him removed for his comments about the visiting ambassadors. Bann Sighard of Dragon's Peak remained, someone Roselyn knew through her father. Fair, but like both Arl Wulff and Bann Ceorlic, traditional. He did not embrace change; it appeared few of Maric's close councillors did.
On the opposite side of the table sat Bann Reginald of White River, young and inexperienced, having taken over after his father died the year before, but clever from what Roselyn heard of him. He was open to change but was still finding his feet in his position. So far he had yet to make a name for himself, often being out-talked by the more experienced councillors. Bann Perrin of Emdale was further down the table, already writing things down on a piece of paper furiously, probably getting ready to note down everything Alistair and she did wrong in the proceedings. The last two members of the council were both like Reginald, young and stepping into the shoes of their fathers. Bann Bronach of the Storm Coast and Bann Parth of Stonewar sat close together, looking more like disobedient children than men with any influence or power.
Roselyn weighed each of them out mentally, considering who would be easiest to sway to Alistair's side and who would not. The older, more stubborn members would be unwilling to let through any of Alistair's decisions. They would fight for tradition to remain and anything Alistair wished to achieve they would try and block, thinking they were doing what they believed Maric would want. The younger ones were harder to place. Their policies and personalities were unknown and they kept themselves so closed off and quiet. She hoped they would be more open to the idea of change, but if they were products of their upbringing and the men who held the position before them; then it was possible they would simply be carbon copies of their fathers.
Under the table, Alistair grabbed her hand and squeezed hard. She could feel him shaking, his palm sweaty and returned his hold just as hard, running her thumb across his knuckles. She could not be openly affectionate to him, not in council. It was improper and could be seen as her trying to use her station as his wife in trying to influence him. All she could do was offer hidden support beneath the table away from prying eyes.
Standing, Alistair glanced down the list of issues to be addressed, then cleared his throat and glanced around the table. Roselyn watched him gulp as the colour in his face drained, making him almost grey. He blanched as if he was about to be sick and push his finger and thumb across his forehead.
"Honoured members of the council," he began. His voice trembled and the paper in his hand shook too. He put it on the table so his terror was not quite so clear. He was like a lamb in a den of wolves, a position Roselyn sympathised with. "As you know, I have been entrusted with the responsibility of ruling Ferelden and caring for her people while my father, the King, is absent. While this is an honour, I am aware that I am inexperienced and would ask your help on matters. I would like His Majesty to return not just to Ferelden, but to a better Ferelden. Any good we can do while he is away brings us closer to that goal."
Alistair paused and a small murmur rippled around the table. Ceorlic and Sighard entered into a momentary discussion in hushed voices. Arl Wulff tapped his fingers on the table, not impressed or moved by Alistair's earnest speech. Perrin, Bronach, Parth, and Reginald were silent for the most part. Bronach shifted in his seat and Parth picked at the pinions on his quill but none of them said a word or did anything.
"Why is she here?" asked Ceorlic, his piggy black eyes pinned on Roselyn. "It's most unnatural, a woman to be taking part in politics. Has she nothing better to do? Are we to be ordered around and commanded by a woman who is not even with child yet?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" barked Alistair, clenching a fist on the table.
Roselyn placed a hand on his arm and smiled prettily at the balding Ceorlic. Ignoring the way her stomach dropped to her knees, she chose to play coy teasing a lock of hair behind her ear - she would not allow anyone to see how their words affected her. "His Majesty has requested my presence during his absence. I will be assisting my husband, your Prince, in matters of ruling until the King is returned from his visit to Orlais."
"Yes," sighed Ceorlic, "but why are you here? Should you not be sewing or learning the latest dances? Making yourself ready for motherhood? We are all so eager for news."
Roselyn blanched and dropped her gaze. She did not realise that the council would use the matter of children against her. It was a low tactic, but a tactic she should have been prepared for. After all, she was still under the watchful gaze of every courtier and the gossip was becoming more toxic the longer she failed to show any signs of being pregnant. She heard the whispers, saw the looks and did what she could to ignore them. Though she was loathe to admit it, Ceorlic had a point. Maric himself said he hoped there would be news of a grandchild on his return and the pressure was mounting. If she still had nothing to show of her marriage in six months or so, she would become the next Anora.
Alistair shook his head his words breaking through her thoughts. "Princess Roselyn is here because the King commanded it. As for whether she is pregnant or not, that is our business and no one else's," he explained, his voice growing stronger and brows lowering over his eyes. Roselyn offered a weak smile when he glanced at her, pretending not to feel her cheeks burning. "If you take issue with this then-"
"Is it because she stormed into the council last week?" inquired Perrin. "That certainly livened up the council session." He grinned, his youth clear on his face. He was barely twenty, fresh faced and eager. "I think more women should be allowed in council."
"Don't be foolish," snapped Wulff. "Women have no place in such matters. That the Princess is here at all is an insult to tradition."
"Gentlemen," Teagan interjected.
"Correct me if I am wrong, Arl Wulff," Roselyn spoke, not wanting to be spoken across or as though she was not present. She coated her words with disarming sweetness as she continued, "But was it not tradition that Queen Rowan, Maker rest her soul, sat in on councils just like this when she was alive?"
"Yes, but-"
"That's what I believed," she smiled again. "Thank you so much for that clarification."
"Gentlemen!" Teagan rose his voice to be heard and to cut off any further comments to do with Roselyn's attendance. "If we could please keep focused." He looked at Alistair. "The first item up for discussion, Your Highness?" He prompted with a supportive smile.
"Uh... yes." Alistair glanced down at the list before him. Roselyn read the words on the paper. Listed in a column down one side of the page were different issues which needed addressing. At the top was listed 'bandits/outlaws- Hinterlands, Lothering and Ironbrook' and beneath that 'disputes - property' and 'disputes - land'. The list went down half a page, and at the very bottom were the words 'Alienage - Denerim'. "The first thing we need to address is the reports of bandits and outlaws."
They settled down to discuss and dispute.
Alistair listened attentively, writing down things he thought pertinent. He allowed each person their time to speak on each issue and countered any arguments with his own. Teagan kept things on track if talks digressed from the main topic. Roselyn was impressed by how calm Alistair appeared and how easily he spoke. His nerves from before disappeared as he fell into his stride, nodding and answering questions posed to him. She almost felt that her protectiveness was unwarranted and that these men respected him enough as a Prince to listen and take him seriously.
This was a side to Alistair she had not witnessed before. The Alistair she saw day-to-day was playful and always cracking wise. He always kept a joke or a sarcastic comment on hand to make to her under his breath. He was affectionate, gentle, and warm when they were alone together. This Alistair was more like Maric. He was stoic and kept his face still, betraying nothing of his thoughts or emotions. It was as if he donned a mask after his initial stumble at the very start. She should not have been surprised; after all Alistair attended council meetings with his father and brother daily as a matter of position and to learn. He probably attended them for years and mastered his method of dealing with the men who were involved on his father's council.
She wondered if his floundering at the start was nothing but a ruse; an attempt to throw these men off and see how they would treat him if he played the fool. He was still nervous though, she knew that much. Every few minutes she would feel his hand beneath the table seek out hers to hold. His palm was still clammy and his grip was still like a vice around hers when he grasped her fingers. She saw him swallow hard and the way he teased his hair at the back of his head, a nervous habit to replace his usual method of ruffling his hand through his hair. Little things it seemed no one else in the room noticed.
The session began to draw to a close. The issues of the day were resolved for the most part. Men would be provided from neighbouring lands to deal with the outlaws and compensated for the duration of their relocation until the issue was resolved. Property disputes were to be addressed again, brought personally to Alistair by the people making the disputes to their ruling lords. He wanted to hear their arguments for himself, not the abridged version from men who considered themselves too important.
Feeling that the meeting was concluded, Arl Wulff was the first to rise from his seat, a gesture Bann Perrin and Bann Ceorlic followed as they gathered up their own papers and notes from the session. Alistair exchanged a confused glance with Teagan, who was quick to call order and attention to Alistair.
"Gentlemen," Alistair laughed through his nose. "We are not finished."
"That is the last item on the agenda, Your Highness." Sighard gave a slow smile. "There is nothing left to discuss."
"The Alienage," Roselyn piped up, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the meeting.
"Ah, Lady Roselyn." Bann Ceorlic grinned sardonically, "your input has been most invaluable to this council. I cannot imagine how we ever got on without you."
"Ceorlic," snarled Alistair, his brows lowering. Ceorlic cowered under Alistair fierce glare, and shuffled his feet on the floor. "Retake your seats." He ordered in a growl, "The Alienage is still an issue to be dealt with." Perrin did as Alistair ordered, but Ceorlic and Wulff were less inclined. Their attitudes changed in an instant. Their friendly compliance to the proceedings so far appeared to be nothing but a smoke screen. Now their true colours were beginning to show and they held no interest or desire to be involved with the care of the city elves.
"They are elves, Your Highness," Wulff sighed. "They will govern themselves. If you repair the Alienage for them, they will only find something else to complain about."
"I have been tasked to-"
"Wulff knows what he is talking about, Your Highness," Ceorlic agreed with a slow nod of his round, bald head. "Your inexperience is telling. Trust your councillors, as your father does."
"I am not my father," Alistair snapped. "And I will not be paid off with cheap words and lies."
"Lies?" Sighard lifted a brow. "Strong accusations."
"I accuse no one, Bann Sighard," Alistair grabbed Roselyn's hand under the table. She could feel him shaking, despite the fierce expression on his face. He was losing control of the council meeting, of the men meant to help him while Maric was gone.
"Gentlemen, if we could please-" Teagan tried to intervene, the voice of reason, the mediator.
"No, Teagan," Arl Wulff interjected. "The council is concluded, there is nothing more to discuss. The Alienage is a non-issue. It will resolve itself."
"It will not," Alistair barked, his voice straining. He cleared his throat and ran his hand back through his hair, dishevelling it. "It will not resolve itself and I will not allow it to go ignored any longer."
"You are without the authority or power to do anything, Your Highness," sneered Ceorlic. He clasped his hands together almost gleefully. "The elves will fight and thrive as they always do. It is there way."
"Gentlemen," Roselyn snapped up, unable to contain herself or withstand the insult being made towards Alistair any longer. Their eyes turned to her as she got to her feet as calmly as possible. She wanted to present a face of cool grace, as if she could not be shaken by anything, like Anora. Her stomach felt as heavy as stone and it hurt to swallow as her throat threatened to close. But she kept her face still and clear, taking a long breath before she spoke. "Would you address King Maric the way you address his son?" she asked the men around her, looking squarely at Wulff, Ceorlic, and Sighard one by one.
Their expressions flickered. Of course they would not speak to Maric the way they spoke to Alistair. Maric would bark at them and beat them into submission - verbally. He would threaten them or bully them until they agreed. Alistair was not Maric; he did not have the iron fist or the expertise Maric did. Even so, she was resolute that his authority was not going to be undermined.
When none of them spoke or could no longer look her in the eye, a smile flickered across Roselyn's mouth for a moment before her face was still as glass again. "I thought not..." she said quietly. She reached down towards Alistair, stretching out her fingers beneath the edge of the table. Now she needed some support as her gut turned over making her want to retch. He curled his fingers around hers, moving his thumb in a circle against her palm.
"When you insult your Prince, you are insulting your King," she explained, speaking with as much resonance as she could muster, fighting back the quaver in her voice. Sitting in her father's meetings and actually being involved in one were very different experiences. The reality was that she was sorely under-prepared for facing off against these entitled and more experienced men.
"The King has put the welfare of Ferelden and her people in the hands of his son. He has granted Alistair, your Prince, full authority in his absence. Prince Alistair is the King's word and voice while he is abroad. The words the Prince speaks are to be taken as those of the King. When you refuse your Prince, you are refusing your King." She paused, feeling Alistair squeeze her fingers. She glanced down at him and saw him trying to conceal a grin, a little boost of confidence which spurred her on.
"I know you are not unreasonable men and that perhaps I, being nothing more than a mere woman, should not speak on matters such as these - but it still stands. The King has put his faith and trust in Prince Alistair; he expects - demands - the loyalty and respect you show him to be shown in kind to his youngest son. I would hate for him to return to reports of such... uncouth behaviour." It was a thinly veiled threat but a real one. She would openly denounce any of the councillors to Maric if they refused to treat Alistair with the respect he deserved. She almost wanted one of them to try and call her bluff, but none of them did.
Slowly, they each returned to their seats. Bann Ceorlic lost his nerve first, which did not surprise Roselyn in the slightest. Ceorlic was a man with a lot of bluster, but little courage. He was follower, not a leader and would do what others more powerful than he were doing. Sighard was quick to follow Ceorlic, Perrin too. Arl Wulff was the last to sit, staring down his nose at Roselyn even as he returned to his chair. He smoothed his hand across his beard and tapped the table with his long fingers.
"Thank you for your co-operation," Roselyn said graciously. "I am certain this will not take long. Nor be as painful as some of you seem to believe." She took her place, managing not to fall into her seat like a rag doll as her all but gave out underneath her. She felt a buzzing energy flowing around her body, making her blood speed through her veins. It was like she had just ridden for miles on horseback. Adrenaline pumped through her limbs making her feel like she could do just about anything. It was exhilarating and she could feel her chest and cheeks were warm, flooded with colour.
Alistair squeezed her hand and pressed a brief kiss to the hollow behind her ear. She caught glimpse of his smile, approving and warm, as he sat back in his seat. She settled her hands in her lap, ready to add to the conversation if necessary.
"I'll keep this brief, as I appreciate you're all eager to get away," Alistair explained, speaking clearly. "It's my intention to rebuild the Alienage." Sighard, Wulff, Bronach, and Reginald all choked back on laughter while Ceorlic's face fell at Alistair's bold statement. He continued, ignoring the occasional stifled attempt of one the councillors composing themselves. "The Alienage is outdated and in need of more than just repair I know some of the buildings are still liveable and can be left, simply improved upon. But much of the Alienage is in disorder and is dangerous. The elves deserve to feel safe."
"That is their responsibility," Ceorlic said slowly, a distasteful look in his eye. "If they cannot keep their own streets safe, then what can we do."
"Making the Alienage a better place to live will make it safer," urged Alistair. "I am certain of it. The elves are without a Hahren at the moment - something they will decide among themselves. In the mean time I will be discussing plans with Shianni."
"The girl who threatened the King?" Asked Perth.
"Yes."
"You don't think that a foolish notion, Your Highness?" Sighard inquired, peering from beneath bushy brows. "She threatens your father and your brother, yet you intend to speak to her on matters of high importance."
"Shianni cares for her people," Alistair replied, his voice growing sharp. "She risked her life and was able to inspire those around her to risk theirs just so they could be heard. She is someone who can speak to the elves and get their thoughts and opinions. Help me earn the trust my father lost."
Sighard sighed. "If you say so, Your Highness."
"For the duration of my father's absence, I intend to make Shianni a Bann of the Alienage." Alistair added. A cry arose from those around him making Roselyn wince, but Alistair spoke over it his voice hard and crushing the dissent. "The elves should have their own representative on the council. This whole council needs reforming, but that is not my job. Her position will be temporary, unless my father deems her station a good one and keeps it going on his return."
"You are making lots of changes in your father's absence," Wulff almost purred. "I must wonder if these are plans you have had waiting to implement for months? Or are they just thoughts coming to you now under the sudden power you have?"
"My power is my father's," Alistair hissed. "If you take issue with how I intend to deal with the matters of my father's country, of his people, and your people, then you may take it up with him on his return. We shall see who he backs."
Arl Wulff settled back into his chair, tightening his hands around the arms. Roselyn gave a long exhale, the tension in the room rising and making it feel hard to breathe. Beside her, Alistair shifted, unfolding a piece of paper.
"None of you will need to oversee the repairs and building works of the Alienage. I'll do that myself with Teagan," he explained. "But you and other members of the council will be expected to provide supplies from your quarries, mines, and lumber mills for materials." Another cry of outrage. Alistair pushed his fingers across his face, Roselyn could see him growing weary. "There is more than enough natural resource in Ferelden to do this small thing for the elves. We cannot rely on outside resources from the Free Marches, Orzammar, or Orlais."
"Your Highness-"
"I intend to go to the Alienage after this council is finished and discuss in depth with Shianni and her kin the plans I have for the Alienage," announced Alistair, cutting off Bann Ceorlic with a sharp glare. "She will be involved in every step, every change, and every decision. Bann Teagan will inform every member of the council what materials will be required and in what capacity. The elves of Ferelden have gone unheard and ignored for too long. It is time to change that, gentlemen." He pressed his hands down onto the wood of the table and stood. "If you have complaints, you can make them to me and to the King on his return. In the mean time, this council is concluded."
He spoke with such finality that the men assembled did not argue. They muttered and groused, grumbling and growling at each other as they left the council room, leaving chairs askew in a final effort to show their discontent. Once they were all gone, Alistair sank down into his seat, leaning his head over the back of it.
"Very well done, Alistair," Teagan said speaking with genuine appreciation. "You did well for your first council. The others from now will be simple."
"I'll hold you to that," laughed Alistair, running his hands down his face. "I've never known them to be so... angry and argumentative. They never behave like that when in session with the King."
"The King rules over them and they fear him," Teagan explained, gathering up the pages he wrote throughout the meeting. The notes and points of discussion to be brought up again at a later date. "You are in his place only temporarily. They saw that as an opportunity to push against you and you held fast. They know you are not going to give in to their bullying."
"Give me a week," Alistair sighed. "I don't know if I can keep this up every day."
"The other council sessions will be shorter, won't they Teagan?" Roselyn asked him across the table. "And not quite so..."
"Aggressive." Alistair prompted.
Teagan gave a slow nod. "Most likely," he said. "Wulff, Ceorlic, and Sighard will write to their closest allies with news of how this sessions went. Information will filter down and the other councillors will return soon once they realise you are not weak willed and they will not get what they want from you."
"And what do they want from me?" Alistair groaned beginning to rotate his fingers over his temple. "My blood?"
"They want to know whether you can be used as pawn so they can achieve their own ends." Teagan advised him. "This is not Orlais, but the Ferelden court is no less treacherous. You have proven that when in a position of authority you are a force to reckoned with. The both of you are." At that Alistair grabbed Roselyn's hand and kissed her knuckles while grinning. She gave a coy smile, tugging her hair behind her ear. She saw Teagan looking between the two of them with a quaint smile on his mouth. "I don't think Maric knew what he would be unleashing when he arranged the match between you. You're proving to be quite the formidable pair."
"Good." Alistair nodded, circling his thumb around the inside of Roselyn's wrist. "Let them remember that."
"I'm sure they will." Teagan told him as he began to walk towards the door. "I'll arrange horses to be prepared for us to go to the Alienage."
"Thank you, Teagan," called Alistair. The guards closed the doors behind Teagan as he left, leaving Alistair and Roselyn in weighty silence. With Teagan gone, Alistair allowed his shoulders to sag and pushed his face into his hands to muffle a groan. Roselyn rose from her chair and settled into Alistair's lap, draping her arms around his shoulders. On instinct his arms wrapped around her waist bringing her closers and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. "I don't want to have to do that for two months," he groused.
"You heard what Teagan said." Roselyn wound her fingers around locks of his hair at the nape of his neck. "They were just pushing against you. Testing you. You pushed back. Now they have to sit up and take note."
"Humph." Alistair shrugged. "I think I prefer when they ignored my existence."
"Alistair..." Roselyn shook her head. She slipped her hands around his head underneath his chin to cup his jaw. She coaxed Alistair to lift his head, which he did with reluctance until they could look at each other. "You should give yourself more credit." She kissed her forehead, smiling against his skin. "Standing up to men like that is no easy task and you held your own, completely."
"You helped."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm being serious."
"So am I." Alistair insisted, nudging her temple with his. "You made yourself heard, again. Even after their comments about..." He dropped his gaze and Roselyn could sense him trying to search for a tactful way to express the feelings of Bann Ceorlic.
"My not being pregnant?" she offered in an attempt to be helpful. She forced a smile. Ceorlic's words hit hard than she cared to admit. Her duty as a wife was to have children, and it was a duty she was failing it. She was failing in all her wifely duties. She and Alistair had yet to consummate their marriage – something which would cause scandal through the palace if the court knew. Even with their other activities where they grew comfortable and familiar with each other, it was not enough. A baby could not come from gestures and mutual exploration of each other. Doing things only for pleasure was a selfish thing to all those who had expectations of her. Of them both.
The thought of it still filled her with dread. They only time they had come close was interrupted by Maric. For reasons Roselyn could not even fathom, everything on that evening felt right. She wanted to have sex with him. She wanted to surrender and give into the sensations she imagined it would feel like. She wanted to know the feeling of Alistair inside her, the drive of his hips, the touch of his hands as he clutched tight to her. She wanted to wrap him up in her embrace, her legs around his hips drawing him in. But it was not as simple as that. She was fearful of so many things.
She knew it would probably hurt, but there was more than that. What if Alistair did not like her afterwards? What if he got what he wanted and suddenly the kindness and gentle words from him disappeared? What if their first attempt resulted in a pregnancy? She was nineteen and in many respects still a child herself. How could she bring a life into the world while knowing so little of it herself? And her feelings for him were overwhelming, frightening in their intensity. He told her he loved her, and Maker she wanted to believe it. After he said it, she realised she was in love with him too. More than once she felt the words on her own tongue and they threatened to tumble out in the midst of conversation or as they fell asleep. But she held them back each time, buried them down into her gut to stay there, too afraid of how she felt about him to give them voice.
Roselyn never expected to care about the husband she was arranged to marry. She never expected to get on with him or even like him. If he had been the loathsome little cretin she imagined everything would have been easier. They would have slept together on their wedding night, she would be pregnant by now and they would put on appearances. Yet Alistair was nothing like she expected. She cared for him, adored him, and she loved him more than she thought possible; but the depth of her feelings was what made everything so hard. It mattered more now than it ever would have with someone she despised.
"Ceorlic was out of line for what he said." Alistair's remark drew Roselyn from her thoughts. His lips brushing the palm of her hand caused her to fall back into the room. "I hope you weren't offended."
"Offended?" Roselyn laughed. "By that bloated troll?" Alistair gave a light snort of amusement through his nose. "It takes more than that to offend me." She smiled through her lie.
"Good to know," he smiled, inclining his head and pressing a kiss to Roselyn's lips. She returned it, leaning into him while sliding her arms up around his shoulders to draw him close. Alistair's hands splayed across the top and bottom of her back, fingers winding in the laces of her dress. Her body flush to his, Roselyn opened her mouth on a sigh, tongue slipping between Alistair's lips as her heart fluttered wildly behind her ribs. He dragged his tongue across hers, making a pleasurable shudder ripple all across her body.
Roselyn tucked her fingers around the buckles at the collar of Alistair's jerkin, working the leather free from the first clasp. His hands grabbing her thighs through the skirts of her dress, Alistair brought her closer still, guiding and leading until his thigh was between her legs. He rubbed at the crux of her thighs and short excited gasp tumbled out of Roselyn's mouth into his.
"Alistair," she mumbled, trying to remember how to think beyond herself and beyond the way her blood pounded through her veins. "You have to go to the Alienage."
"I have to go to the Alienage," he repeated, wrapping a hand up into her hair at the base of her skull and kissing her hard. His lips moulded over hers, clumsy but confident. Sharp breaths were stolen by the two of them, Roselyn began to grind her mound against his leg, the insides of her thighs growing moist.
"I'm serious," she argued between kisses. "Alienage. Now." He dragged his mouth from hers, lips descending to press kisses to her neck. Her pulse raced, he pressed his thumb against it, nibbling at her skin. "Teagan will be..." Roselyn's stomach squirmed. Beneath the skirt of her dress she could feel Alistair's hand on her bare thigh crawling up towards her sex. "Teagan- will be-"
"Teagan will be...?" Alistair teased and she heard the smile in his voice. Roselyn found herself too distracted to reply. His fingers stroked the inside of her thighs, brushing against the material of her small clothes with each move she made with her hips. She was curious as to his intentions; he attempted to touch her a few times before but always seemed to lose his nerve. Now with her body growing hotter it felt as though his triumph in the council made him bolder. His fingers hooked around the gusset of her smalls, easing beyond coarse hair to her folds, slick with arousal. He stroked along her slit and Roselyn lurched towards him, biting her lips to muffle her sound.
"Alistair-" She growled, almost savagely into his mouth. He grinned into the heady kiss she supplied, fingers moving, stroking, sliding across the sensitive nub at the hood of her mound. Roselyn bucked, a jolt of pleasure rising up through her body making her skin feel tight. Her hair rose up, erect as he repeated the motion with a more insistent flick of his fingertips. "Sweet Maker," Roselyn moaned into his mouth, her brows furrowing. "Alistair, we shouldn't."
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked with genuine sincerity. She leaned her forehead against his, breathing hard. He would stop if she asked him to. He would never push for more than she would give, and she loved him all the more for that. He peered up at her, honey-brown eyes wide, pupils dilated, searching her face for her answer. His fingers paused between her legs and Roselyn shook with the effort it took to stay balanced on the chair kneeling over him. "Rose?"
She did not want him to stop. She wanted to continue; she wanted him. Her whole body cried out for him. But not here, not now. Not when there were actual responsibilities weighed on him by his father to attend to. But a moment. They could steal a moment, couldn't they?
"N-no." She shook her head, surprised by her own answer and by the weight of her voice. "Don't stop." She caught the flash of a grin on his lips before they crashed into hers. Alistair's tongue passed between her lips, mimicking the movements of his fingers beneath her dress.
He explored her with the lengths of his fingers, his thumb sliding and circling across her clit. Blood pooled, weighing her down, making her grow warmer and more sensitive with each pass of his fingertips. She felt him nudge at the sweet bundle of nerves, making her jerk and gasp against his mouth. He cupped her, pressing the heel of his hand to her drenched folds. Roselyn drove her hips, relishing the sensations which bombarded her senses. Her skin prickling, nerves coming alive and almost dancing with nervous energy beneath her skin. Every inch of her felt as if it was on fire, tingling with lightning, the lightest brush from the fabric of her dress making her need and desires increase.
She pushed her fingers back through Alistair's hair, sighing, groaning, and whimpering into his mouth with every gesture. Alistair met her kisses, returning them just as hard and with as much ardency. He kissed with resolve and heat which made her head swim dizzyingly.
Between her legs, Alistair moved and pleasured her with surprising skill, instinct making him bold. He stroked his fingers along the hard button of nerves which had her shuddering and circled it with the pad of his thumb before drawing the full length of a finger along it, firm and slow. He spread her lips with his ring and forefinger to drag the tip of middle finger along her wet heat. She writhed against him, muffling impatient little moans in the material of his clothing. He tapped and flicked her clit, laughing softly to the way Roselyn rutted into his torment.
"I don't think I've ever seen you like this," Alistair remarked, voice deep groan, lips beside Roselyn's ear. She was struggling to breathe, let alone talk so said nothing only dug her fingers into the shoulders of his jerkin for deeply in the hopes he could feel it. When he pressed and dragged the whole length of his finger along her, a groan arose from deep in Roselyn's chest. She trembled and dropped her head, pressing it into the curve of his neck. Alistair repeated the movement; first one side, then the other, then across the top of her clit. Soft moans Roselyn failed to silence peppered her sharp breaths. Her body shook, the muscles in her core growing tighter with each pleasing movement Alistair made. Her cheeks and chest bloomed with colour, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead and the back of her neck.
Alistair touched and pressed further, exploring and teasing, pushing Roselyn towards the brink of orgasm. Her vision clouded at the corners as she rotated her hips in his hand, urging him and silently trying to guide him where she needed and wanted him the most. His fingers moved faster, touched her with more insistence and drawing out the moment until Roselyn kissed him, crushing her mouth to his and clamping her legs together around his hand. Her body jerked and shuddered under her climax, flooding over her like rough waves against jagged rocks.
Reaching up with his free hand, Alistair cradled her face and littered softer, more reverent kisses to her lips. Roselyn chased her breath through her nose, fighting the quaking of her body. She supported her arms on his shoulders, lips lingering on his with every kiss. Her legs relaxed and Alistair removed his hand from between her thighs.
When she could breathe steadily and see again, Roselyn opened her eyes, blinking owlishly. Alistair wore a boyish and infectious grin. She returned it, kissing him and winding her fingers back into his hair.
"Well, that was..." Alistair thought for a word. "Bracing?"
"You know Teagan is probably wondering where you are?" Roselyn sighed as Alistair cleared strands of her hair stuck to her face away. "Probably thinks you've tried to run away or something."
Alistair chuckled and nuzzled her forehead. "I should go. The Alienage awaits. I'll just wait until my wife is... recovered?" He cocked an eyebrow and grinned again.
Roselyn narrowed her eyes. "I'm fine." She tried to prove it by climbing off him. Her legs shook a little and she grabbed the table, but shot Alistair a triumphant smirk none-the-less. "Thank you, Your Highness."
"So you are." Alistair rose to his feet. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him, kissing her soundly again. "Maybe..." he spoke, voice softer and less sure of himself. "Maybe we can continue this?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. "Later?"
"Maybe," nodded Roselyn. "We'll see."
"Alright." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be back this evening." He was gone a few seconds later, leaving Roselyn still catching her breath and leaning on the table.
She stared across at the seats as she recovered, noting where Bann Ceorlic sat during the meeting. She recalled his comments, the sardonic grin she wanted to smack off his round face. It wasn't enough that she and Alistair brought each other enjoyment and pleasure in other ways; it would never be enough. It wasn't sex which would result in a baby.
Roselyn realised she was weary, and not just from the moments before with Alistair. She was weary of the palace and of how carefully watched she was. She wanted the gossip to stop. She wanted the looks and the hisses behind hands to end. She was sick of it all, of their talk and their glances. They would never see her as more than a royal baby carrier and her own fears did not matter. She hated to admit it to herself, but waiting until she was ready was no longer an option. The building pressure of the King and his court was going to win, if only to save her own sanity.
-cough- So, we'll pick up on that in part 2! Hope you enjoyed. As always, let me know what you think! :D