Leliana was far too experienced in intrigue to let her emotions show, even when they gripped her around her chest and made it difficult to breathe. As Alistair and Loghain battled for the crown of Ferelden, it became clear early on that the fight would be a brief one. Loghain was strong still despite the years that weighed him down, but Alistair was his equal in skill, and he had youth and rage as his companions. As the former general fell to his knees in defeat, Leliana saw the hate in Alistair's eyes and her insides squirmed with grim certainty when she interpreted the intent there, but no one in the room could have seen the dread that shivered through her. Never would she have believed that Alistair – snarky, endearing Alistair – would calmly step forward and murder a man who was beaten. Even if that man was Loghain. Yet she watched, and his step didn't falter and his eyes didn't blink, and before the nobility of Ferelden Loghain's head parted company with his shoulders with one brutal slice of Maric's sword.
She was well aware of what her friends were, but still a knot formed in her chest as the room fell completely still, save for the sound of Anora's quiet sobbing. Leliana risked a glance at Rhiann, and saw the same hardened look in her eyes that had been present when she gave Alistair the order to kill the man. It was not a satisfied look, but one that blazed with steeled determination.
They are killers Zevran had told her once. She is a killer.
Leliana had always sensed the air of destiny about these two, but it was not until recently that she saw it for what it was. She saw it when they had aided her in tracking down Marjolaine, and again when Alistair had thrown Arl Howe at his lover's feet in a grisly gift of retribution. The sense of duty that drove them was not built on honor or glory or any of the splendor of her many tales, but on justice. Justice that was cold and hard and unfeeling as the blades they wielded, an unfaltering walk of death that controlled their existence. Rhiann and Alistair may have had compassion and even mercy to temper that justice, but they could not escape it, could not deny it. Death was their trade, as surely as it had been Zevran's.
And yet they loved as well, she reminded herself as the noise level in the room picked up once again and Alistair was immediately reduced to his usual awkwardness even as the blood of his worst enemy dried on his hands. They loved perhaps more brightly and brilliantly than any of the rest of them were capable, precisely because of the darkness that shadowed their lives. The light that countered it seemed almost tangible sometimes, a beacon that the companions, that she, had followed without hesitation. She would continue to do so without qualms or regret, because she knew the good, honest people that existed beneath the Taint.
But she also knew, deep down, that she would never truly understand what it was to be a Grey Warden, and she was thankful.
-oOo-
As soon as she opened the door to the room where the others were waiting, Rhiann was nearly bowled over in a flurry of red hair and excited chatter. Leliana could barely contain her exuberance, speaking so rapidly it took a moment to sort out the flow of words.
"Rhiann! How could you keep such a thing from me? The queen of Ferelden! I had no idea you were even considering marriage."
Rhiann twitched uncomfortably. She hadn't known they were considering it, either. "Leliana..."
"You will allow me to help with the planning, yes? A touch of elegance would not be amiss for a royal wedding. You will need someone like me, I am thinking."
"Leliana..."
"And I finally have the excuse I need to make you beautiful. There is a dressmaker here in Denerim who has a selection of the loveliest lace. Shopping! We must go shopping as soon as possible."
The doors slammed open before Rhiann could try to interrupt again. Alistair stood in the opening, his hands still braced on either side, eying her far more seriously than she would have liked. His stance seemed to get through to Leliana, who fell silent and gave Rhiann a questioning glance.
"So, strange story," Alistair began lightly, crossing his arms and cocking his head at her. "Tell me if you've heard this one – this fellow gets made king and then gets engaged, all in the same sentence."
The bard's eyes went wide as saucers and she gave Rhiann an incredulous look.
"I haven't exactly had time to talk to him about it yet," she admitted in a small voice. The confession rang in the quiet of the room, and Zevran and Oghren could not disguise distinct snorts of laughter. Wynne elbowed Oghren with a glare.
"Could I speak to Rhiann alone for a moment, please?" Alistair asked with perfect politeness. She swallowed nervously.
The others couldn't seem to clear out fast enough, though Rhiann noted that at least two pairs of curious feet seemed to linger just outside the door after Alistair shut it behind them.
He turned towards her, his arms crossed over his chest. She couldn't read his expression, which only added another dozen butterflies to her already fluttering stomach.
"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I probably should have talked to you first."
He raised an eyebrow at that.
"Okay, I definitely should have talked to you first. But everyone was just looking at me and I don't know, it just came to me. I thought if they trusted me enough to make the decision for them, then maybe..."
Her voice trailed off as his expression wavered, then he sighed and dropped his hands to his waist. Rhiann honestly thought she might go crazy.
"You know, saying something might be good here."
Alistair finally looked back at her, his smile a little wistful, and she steeled herself. She knew what was coming – the Blight, the taint, the inability to produce an heir. The same concerns had been swirling around in her head since her rash declaration at the Landsmeet.
"Rhiann," he began very softly, and she closed her eyes. She wouldn't allow herself to cry, not in front of him. "I … Rhiann, will you marry me?"
Her eyes flew open. "What?"
He shifted his weight nervously, staring at the floor instead of at her. "I know it sounds silly, since its already been decided, but I have this ghastly feeling that if I just let it go like this you'll believe I'm only marrying you because you told me to. Even I know I'll end up regretting that later."
She could only stare at him.
"So," he said, and his nerves were getting the better of him as the surprise refused to let go of the hold it had on her tongue. "Will you? Marry me, that is?"
She felt herself nod dumbly.
Alistair still looked hesitant. "Is that a yes, then?"
She snapped out of her stupor and finally found her voice. "Of course that's a yes."
His smile was radiant as he closed the distance between them, and she giggled when he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her right off the ground to embrace her as if he was afraid she was going to turn and bolt at any second.
"You're sure? Even with the..."
"I'm sure," she cut him off and kissed him before he got the chance to say something stupid. He seemed to agree with this tactic – she could feel his answering grin against her lips and she wanted to crow in victory at his acceptance.
The door slammed open again, and Leliana and Zevran fell in with it, both crashing to the floor with a grunt. Wynne and Morrigan scowled at them from a good distance away, frowning in severe disapproval at the two rogues.
As if they hadn't been eavesdropping just as shamelessly.
Zevran coughed delicately and stood up, brushing himself off in a graceful attempt to salvage his dignity. "That latch may need repairing, friend Alistair. It does not appear to stand up to weight very well."
She only hugged Alistair tighter as the both of them burst into laughter.
-oOo-
"I am forced to admit, that was a rather brilliant stroke on your part," Eamon said thoughtfully as Teagan set a cup of tea before the Arl. The three men were spending the morning in the study, discussing last minute plans before the departure to return to Redcliffe. "I'm ashamed that I didn't think of it myself."
"So am I," Alistair muttered, chuckling a little to himself.
"The Landsmeet was perfectly willing to accept her as queen. The Couslands, after all, have quite a history, and her actions this past year have only strengthened that position. She will be a valuable asset in sustaining your rule."
"And you know, I'm rather pleased with the arrangement as well," Alistair said, a little dryly.
Eamon blinked at him, then gave him a paternal smile. "I didn't mean to take away from Rhiann. She is quite charming as well as lovely. I only meant to point out that she is also a very impressive woman. That is a good thing, if she is going to serve as queen. You don't need some empty headed dolt beside you in the days following the Blight."
"That's certainly true enough," Alistair acknowledged with a sigh. He wondered if Rhiann really knew what she had gotten herself into in agreeing to help him learn the intricacies of court life. He wasn't exactly the most devout pupil at the best of times, and he could already see himself getting frustrated far more easily with what he saw as utterly nonsensical details when they had far more important things to concern themselves with.
It was a good thing she loved him.
"And Alistair," Eamon interrupted his thoughts, sounding slightly more hesitant then before. "You do realize that your betrothal became official when it was announced at the Landsmeet."
Alistair nodded, uncertain at what the Arl was getting at. They didn't really believe that he'd want to back out, did they?
"Therefore, in the eyes of both state and Chantry, Rhiann is quite legally your wife, though she will not be able to assume the duties of queen until your wedding."
"Yeees..."
Eamon rolled his eyes and Teagan stepped in to rescue him, his mouth twisting as if trying to suppress a smile. "So, perhaps you can stop providing the servants with gossip about your midnight strolls and simply have Rhiann move her things into your chamber once we return to Redcliffe. I'm sure even her brother cannot object, once he learns what happened here today."
"Oh, yes," Alistair cleared his throat. "I'll do that. I-" his embarrassment cooled and died as rapidly as it had come when Teagan's words sank in, and he felt his eyes widen. "Wait - what did you say?"
"Surely you don't need it spelled out for you further."
"No, not that – what was that bit about her brother?"
"Fergus Cousland. You are familiar with him, I think? He should be in Redcliffe by the time we arrive."
"Fergus?" Alistair looked back and forth between the two men, disbelieving. "Fergus is alive?"
"Yes," Teagan appeared startled. "He sent word to us a week ago, barely recovered from his wounds and requesting shelter, though I do hope you intend to reinstate his lands, now that Arl Howe is dead." He looked at Arl Eamon, who shrugged. "Are you saying that Rhiann has no knowledge of this?"
"Of course she doesn't! We've been all over the kingdom, haven't we? Where was she supposed to pick up a post?"
Both men suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Alistair," Teagan apologized sincerely. "We had no idea she still thought him dead, or we would have told her immediately. He was wounded at Ostagar, but he survived. He has been with the Chasind all this time."
Alistair gave them one last wild grin before he jumped up and darted from the room, yelling as he ran down the hallway. "Rhiann!"
Eamon sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Do you think we have any hope of teaching him decorum one of these fine days?"
Teagan smiled. "I wouldn't wager on it."
-oOo-
"Rhiann!"
Rhiann glanced up from her reading, wondering what on earth had gotten into Alistair.
"Rhiann! Where the devil – oops, sorry, I didn't see you there – confound it woman, where are you?"
"I'm in here," she called, laughing. "Try not to kill anyone, would you?"
He burst into the room, practically bouncing with excitement. "Rhiann! I've just been with the Arl."
"Yes, I know," she said slowly. He was keeled over, trying to catch his breath. "Did he give you a cookie?" she asked dryly when no other explanation presented itself.
He made a face at her for that before blurting, "Fergus is alive."
Rhiann went completely still, sure she must have heard him wrong. "What are you talking about?"
He straightened up with a gulp of air. "He was wounded at Ostagar, but the Chasind cared for him. He's on his way to Redcliffe.
Rhiann's hands went suddenly cold as shock settled into every pore. "Alistair, are you sure about this?"
He nodded. "Arl Eamon just told me."
She stared at him for a moment, letting his words fight through the feel that she must be dreaming. Her joy came on a wave of tears and she began to cry. For the first time since she had began this journey she didn't try to fight them, instead covered her face with her hands and sobbed like a child as the hole in her heart that had fueled her hatred suddenly flooded with hope. Fergus, beloved Fergus. Oh Maker, she wasn't alone after all.
"Wait – no, no crying," Alistair objected, dropping to his knees in front of her. "This is a happy thing."
"I am happy," she wailed, and cried harder.
He only laughed and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple while she continued to weep against him. "I love you, you ridiculous woman."
-oOo-
The woman knew strategy, of that there was no question. Teagan listened closely as she sketched out a plan to reach Denerim as quickly as possible while keeping the darkspawn unaware of their approach. He remembered her as she had been as a girl, and though people had been profuse in their exclamations of her intelligence and potential, he doubted one of them could have predicted this hardened warrior that stood before him, her tone that of one who is accustomed to being obeyed.
"A forced march," she concluded. "The elves know the forests surrounding Denerim far better than any of us. Their Keeper has selected the best of their scouts to lead us."
There was quite a bit of grumbling to this notion, the nobles unwilling to trust their luck to a group of belligerent elves, but Rhiann silenced them with a look. "They have as much reason as we do to see this Blight ended."
No one could rightfully argue with that, and the grumbling ceased. As the war council dispersed Alistair put both hands on the table and glanced over the map of Ferelden. He was filthy from the road and the fight to reach the castle, his exhaustion apparent in the dark circles under his eyes. "How did we miss them?"
"I don't know," she replied, frustration clear in her voice. "We should have been there, waiting for them when the assault began."
"Just the two of us?" he asked with a touch of wry humor. "I think I prefer having this army we've scoured the countryside for at our backs, even if we do show up a bit on the late side."
She glared at him, but Teagan saw real affection in her gaze. "That's not what I meant. I just wish we could have known where they were going..."
Her voice drifted away as she stared at the open doorway. Teagan glanced up to see what had distracted her and saw a Fergus Cousland leaning on the frame. The man had apparently still had not fully recovered, to judge by his pallor and the way his clothes hung around him, like he had lost a significant amount of weight in a short time. Without a word Rhiann ran across the room and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck with such force they both nearly toppled over backwards.
"Fergus, I hope?" Alistair asked, but he was smiling widely at the sight.
"It is." Teagan watched as the siblings clung to each other, both speaking so quickly he doubted they could understand each other. "I'm pleased to see the Maker reward her a bit of joy throughout this."
"Reward?" Alistair laughed, brittle as the ashes on the wind over the ruined village. "I'd say it's about time the Maker noticed she's been working her ass off down here."
-oOo-
Rhiann and Alistair stood in the dimmed light of the hallway, simply looking at each other for a long time. Was it wrong, she wondered, to hope that your friend would die in a few days? Even if Riordan said he was ready for it, she couldn't silence that guilt that wormed in her stomach, that she should pray for someone she had come to greatly respect would fall in her place and spare her.
She should have known. She should have put the clues together long before this. Instead she had blithely gone on her way with ideas that she would be married soon and her brother was alive, and maybe she would come out of this Blight after all. She had ignored the lesson that had been hammered into her again and again, and each time the blow fell it came harder and left her feeling dizzy and a little sick, as if she had fallen from a great height.
Nothing came without a price.
"What's Morrigan doing in your room?" Alistair asked so suddenly it startled her, and he made a face, as if he regretted drawing her attention to the witch. Rhiann glanced into the chamber she hadn't planned on using and saw Morrigan standing by a roaring fire, apparently waiting for her. "I don't know." She turned back to Alistair with a shrug. "I guess I should see what she wants."
He started to give her his most exasperated look, but shook his head as if it wasn't worth the effort. "Don't be long," he said softly, squeezing her hand once before releasing it.
-oOo-
Rhiann shifted slightly, trying to wiggle her feet to return the blood to them as the unpleasant prickling sensation teased her leg. She needed to be alone, to think without interruption for a change, and it wasn't likely to happen with the castle in such a heightened state of frantic activity. She had done the only thing she could think of and shamelessly hid on the floor of a closet, her knees pulled to her chest so she could fit in the cramped space. It was rather fitting, she thought humorlessly, to literally place herself between a rock and hard place as she turned her options over in her mind.
She let her head fall back on the wall with a sigh and idly wondered if she felt like crying. Her eyes felt hot and dry and tears may be a relief, but she couldn't summon any. She still felt too numb with disbelief.
Alistair would be wondering where she was. If he only knew.
Could she ask this of him? Ask him to throw away his honor, to taint and darken all that she loved about him for the sake of their lives? Even if she could convince him to do it -
She sighed again, louder this time, as the knowledge came to her with a certainty that made her feel suddenly very, very tired.
He would do it.
She knew that without a doubt. He would bed Morrigan, if she asked him. He would be repulsed and horrified and would stammer uncontrollably in protest, but he would do it in the end, because she asked him to. But he would despise himself for it, for the act itself as well as knowing that he had succumbed to blood magic. She would have done that, taken the light of his soul and twisted it to her bidding. Could she do that to him? Perhaps he would agree more readily, knowing that it would save them both. Was she using his love as a weapon against him, or would he gladly accept the consequences to give them both a fighting chance?
Maker's breath, why – WHY – was it always up to her?
The thought of refusing, however...
She shuddered. It was foolish to blindly believe that Riordan would be able to take that final blow. They would be fighting for their lives and keeping all of their hopes on the chance that all three of them would survive long enough to reach the archdemon. She couldn't afford such optimism, if she was to consider this offer seriously. In all likelihood, one of them would die before they could even find the archdemon. And then? It would only be the two of them, and Alistair would never let her fulfill the grim task. She would be forced to stand by and watch him sacrifice himself. The darkness would swallow him – take his light away from the world.
From her.
She knew what had to be done. Still she remained where she was just a little longer, fighting against the fear the clutched her. For the first time in a very long time she began to pray, whispering the recited words of her youth in the dark of her hiding place and as the Chant fell like empty promises around her she abandoned it and began to plead, begging for guidance in her course. As the minutes passed she felt her resolution set in, the knowledge that she was doing the right thing warmed some cold part of her. Even then her voice continued to murmur against the shadows, laying her only request at the feet of Blessed Andraste - to grant her the courage to do it.