The thing about a kingdom was that it didn't tolerate a sulking ruler, and over the next few days Alistair attended a dizzying number of social engagements, meetings, and enough Denerim business openings to feel like a merchant. He knew Leliana was doing it on purpose, to distract him, and he was grateful. Apparently whatever was supposed to happen had happened, and his part was over. He hoped it had been worth it. Though his days were packed, with no room for thought, at night he lay awake for hours, exhausted but too afraid to sleep and hear the sound of skin breaking. The Fade wasn't kind to him these days.
On the fourth day, Zevran sought him out. The Antivan had been playing his role of purchased traitor well, though Alistair could see the toll the court's nasty whispers were taking on him. His ageless eyes were tighter than usual and the movements of his hands no longer smooth and controlled. They sat in a garden together and spoke casually for a time about the most boring topics in Thedas until everyone got tired of watching the King and his newly paid-for assassin. As soon as the watchers wandered away, Zevran changed tones. He still spoke quietly, but with a new purpose. "There is one more thing I need you to do, my friend."
Alistair blanched. Zevran quickly shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I promise you. But it is something you cannot tell our dear bard." He reached into a pocket discreetly and passed him a small pouch. "You need to give this to Elissa, but without anyone noticing. The ladies think it will be me, want it to be me, but it will raise too many suspicions if I visit her now. Too many people will wonder as to my purpose. You are known to have a special interest. You can go to her. You can get close enough."
"What is it?" He knew better than to study it or test it in his hand, but he couldn't contain his curiosity. The elf only blinked. "Fine. When do you need this done?"
"As soon as possible. Today. Time grows short. And I sense that there are things that are not right." Alistair nodded his assent. "You understand that you must not be seen, though people must be watching? I know you are not trained for this. But in truth you are the only choice."
"I'll make a distraction somehow. I'll cover it up." Zevran looked skeptical. "I can do it. Really. They won't suspect me."
The Antivan sighed. "The ladies will be very angry with me for this decision, I fear."
He smiled faintly. "Welcome to the club."
He went to the Tower that evening. He had no real plan as to what he would do, but he didn't have the energy to worry about it. Something would occur to him. Things had rarely just occurred to him before, but he'd learned a lot since he took the throne. He trusted his instincts. And if he couldn't think of anything, she would. Of that he had no doubt.
When they arrived at her room, he had them open the door without warning. She whirled from her place by the window in shock. He saw a look of confusion flash across her face before she settled a mask of hatred over it. While they chained her hands in front of her and looped the chain through a ring in the floor to keep her still, she watched him closely. When her eyes flicked to the pocket of his pants where the pouch sat, he knew that she understood. Some of the anger on her face became real, and Alistair felt sorry for Zevran.
He was glad to see that some of the hollowness had left her face. Strength ruled once more. There were no remnants of any pain when they bound her, nothing to indicate permanent damage from anything that had happened. Her eyes were clear, not as sharp as they'd been, but nothing like the haze he'd last seen. She would be able to follow his lead.
He wondered what he was going to do. A fight would be easiest, something where he could strike her to cover the exchange, but he couldn't bring himself to even yell at her. The fact that she would accept it without question just made it worse. The same plan seemed to occur to her even as he rejected it, and she settled into an aggressive posture.
Exhaustion swept over him. He wouldn't. He knew what he needed to do.
He softened his face and stepped closer. She snarled. The guards tensed, but he kept coming until he stood only an arm's length away. "I'm glad you've seen some sense, Lady Cousland. These quarters are far more comfortable, I hope."
"It turns out pain is an excellent motivator," she said.
"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I didn't want to hurt you, but protecting a country is not always honorable." The truth, now. No more anger or games. Let her hold tight to anger, if she had to. He had no room for it in his heart when she was so close. Her eyes were dark and beautiful and a little afraid. There was so much hurt in her because of him. No more.
"Don't," she said. She tried to move back, but her chains held her tight. "You can't make up for what you've done. Don't." Her voice shook a little. She didn't take her eyes off his face. Silently, she begged him to stop.
He couldn't. One more game was needed, Zevran said. Well, he would play one more game but this time a game of truth. He'd spin no more lies. They'd have all the distraction they wanted, wrapped up in what he needed to say. He took another step closer, and she said nothing. "I won't hurt you again. You'll come back to me, and things will be like they always should have been. I swear it in the name of the Maker." He gripped her chin lightly with his hand, and she shrank away even while her eyes softened. He knew by the way they shifted that the guards heard only warning in his words and malice in his actions. They thought he was threatening her with his attentions. He knew he was making a promise.
Her heartbeat came strong and quick under his fingers when he slid his hand around her head to hold her in place. He leaned closer and whispered, "Don't ever run from me again." He pressed his lips to hers fiercely. One small lie from his mouth to sell the rest. Instead of the soft passion he felt, he made his kiss aggressive. The guards wouldn't see love in it. They would only find intimidation. And she would be reminded not to respond.
She cursed Alistair silently as he kissed her. His mouth was demanding, and she needed every inch of her dwindling self-control not to give herself completely over to him. Did he know what this was doing to her? His hand tightened in her hair possessively, and she fought a moan. Thank the Maker her hands weren't free. It was the most exquisite torture she'd ever faced. She'd almost rather be whipped again. The memory of his deliciously commanding whisper breathed inside her. Well, maybe not quite.
His other hand brushed low against her body, and she shifted away instinctively. Much too dangerous. Then she remembered what he was doing. They were close for a reason. His hand, curled into a loose fist, touched her again and dropped something into her pocket. She had to admit he was clever. She was sure everyone's eyes were focused elsewhere.
After it was finished, she summoned up all of her willpower and pulled her head away from his. She glared at him, though she knew that anyone who looked in her eyes would see she was anything but angry. Fortunately only Alistair was in a position to notice. Not that the heat in his own eyes was much help. He may never care for her again, but he certainly still wanted her. She wondered what his new companion would think.
She closed her eyes to avoid giving herself away and felt him step back. "You're a pig," she spat.
"But one you seem to enjoy a great deal, Lady. I won't overstay my welcome. Until next time." He gave a slight bow and left. The guards undid her chains. They closed the door behind them, and she sank to the floor for the benefit of those she knew would be watching. But when she curled into a ball and wrapped her arms around herself to stop the shivering, it wasn't from fear. She hoped desperately that wouldn't be the last time she kissed him.
She and Anora had built up an almost comfortable routine since she'd arrived. They took walks when allowed out and ate dinner together nightly while they conversed and lied to each other sweetly. The ex-Queen was given a surprising amount of freedom and power, mostly due to the loyalties among the guard she'd carefully cultivated. Elissa begrudgingly admitted that Anora was better at ensnaring people than she'd realized. At least the non-nobility. Many of their protectors were more informal servants than barriers against her escape. She'd gained quite the ascendancy from her prison cell.
Elissa blamed herself for leaving. She would have known to keep a closer eye on this woman than the others had done. It never would have gotten this far had she been here.
But now she'd been given the last piece, which was the sign from Zevran and Leliana. They would move the next evening, and it was time for her to take the final step. Why Alistair had delivered the pouch she couldn't guess, and she hoped nothing was wrong. He hadn't indicated it with anything he'd said or done, so all she could do was move forward.
She touched the small ball in her pocket. Another of the Crows' deaths. It wasn't a soft one, like Thomas's, but a hard one, a fast one, one that would give Anora no time for reprisals. With luck, she would fall as her network crumbled around her, the head of the snake and the body destroyed in one fell swoop. No trials. No judgments. Just an execution that she was more than happy to perform to keep Fereldan safe. To keep him safe.
Her mind strayed to memories of Alistair over and over while she waited for night to fall. He'd been so young at Ostagar, so full of nerves and life. Only in the fighting did he reveal the seriousness that belied his joking nature. She'd noticed he liked her without seeming to notice, just another step in the dance of a Teryn's daughter, but even if she'd been emotionally ready for anyone, there hadn't been time. After Duncan had died, there'd been no more jokes for either of them. Instead of flirting recruits, they'd been survivors. It was a better bond for what they needed to do. It kept them strong and alive even through the worst times, but it was the kind of bond that bypassed the heart entirely. His handsomeness and his humor were unimportant background. The Hero of Fereldan, as she was becoming, looked only for his shield arm and his bravery.
She regretted it now, all of those moments she'd dismissed the best parts of him. Over the last year she'd wondered if Duncan really would have approved of who she'd been during the Blight. She'd been so sure he had made her this way, pushed her into this role. He'd wanted her to be serious and to do her duty. But she remembered that he'd also loved Alistair and had rescued him from unhappiness. He hadn't been all hardness, even at the end. He'd let himself be complete. She hoped, if he was watching, he liked who she'd become without him. And she hoped his unofficial son would, too, someday.
She went to dinner that night in perfect calm. She should have been nervous, she supposed, but she never feared battle. This fight might happen in fine clothes instead of chainmail, but it would be no less deadly for that. She smiled inside. If all noble games were like this, she might be more interested in them again.
As the doors opened, she readied herself. She carried the poison loosely in her hand. Despite the surprising luxuries of this prison, they had no servants to wait on them. She'd made sure to develop the habit of pouring the wine at the meal, both to show her subservience and to prepare the way for this. Anora would have no suspicions of her on that front now.
When she got inside, only hard-earned battle calm kept her face from falling. Anora had already poured the wine. She couldn't afford to wait, not with the grains ready to bounce out of her grip any minute. Nothing to do but pretend she hadn't noticed. She walked to the wine bottle and picked it up, moving to Anora's place. She even started to pour before seeming to realize there was already liquid in it. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Your Highness." While Anora graciously waved her away, she readjusted the glass and dropped the powder inside. She made sure the liquid inside moved, to help dissolve it before the Queen noticed.
She seemed uninterested in the glass, instead staring at Elissa's face. "Something distracting you? A certain visitor, perhaps?"
Elissa flushed, not at all pretending. With luck, it looked like anger. "Yes, it seems you were right after all. The King still wants something from me. Though I don't think it has much to do with a soft heart, from what he did." She made a face.
Anora smirked. "No, it wouldn't be. Cailan was rarely interested in that, from anyone, but the other men of the court weren't shy about their own limited wants. Very tiresome. But in this case, very fortunate."
Elissa walked to her own seat and settled back, waiting for the vague talk to begin again. "I still don't understand how you intend to use this. Unless you think he'll let me get near him with a dagger in my hand, it doesn't help us. And even Alistair isn't that trusting. I'm strong, but not strong enough to fight him hand-to-hand to the death. Not quickly enough."
"All in good time, Elissa." The ex-Queen took perverse pleasure in avoiding her honorific. She thought she twisted the knife into a frustrated prisoner. In reality it just made her blinder to the nature of the woman she dined with. "Though I will say, where men's lusts go, their loves often follow. Don't underestimate the possibility of his feelings. The guard told me that he was extremely amorous."
She shrugged casually. "Even I'm not a good enough liar to pretend to like him long enough for a real romance, if that's what you're thinking."
Anora laughed lightly, like the tinkling of bells. "Don't worry on that count." She lifted her glass off the table and raised it. "A toast, my dear. To powerful women, and the men they'll ruin with love."
Elissa reached for her own glass slowly. Something wasn't right. Instinct screamed at her to guard herself, to attack whatever was coming. But what was there to attack? Anora's face, at the end of the table. Triumphant. Expectant. Expecting what? Why was she so happy tonight? Genuinely happy, not the social mask she usually wore. Elissa's hand touched the glass, and it jolted her. Why had Anora poured the drinks tonight? She never did that. She preferred to be waited on, especially by her former rival.
Anticipation. Joy. Out of character subservience. The glass rose off the table, and she knew. She wasn't the only one who'd brought poison to the meal.
Her mind raced, looking for options. She could beat her to death, probably. Anora had little combat training. But that would be noisy, and she didn't know if the guards outside had been taken care of yet or not. She didn't know the timing of Leliana's plans and had been hoping to buy them several hours having a quiet dinner with a corpse. Or she could take the toast, and have the Queen drink with her, killing them both. Her eyes were completely unsuspicious, only eager. She would wait for Elissa to drink first, then follow suit without question.
She ran through the possibilities quickly. What would the poison be? Something gentle. Something not obvious. Something that would allow the Queen to pass it off as a natural death. Probably something that wouldn't work for hours, even, to make sure she was back in her cell by the time she collapsed. Maybe she could hold on until people got here. Alistair, Zevran and Leliana all screamed in her head, telling her not to risk it. Answered by her own voice, the Hero's voice, telling her it was the only way. Lady Cousland, agreeing, wanting to see Anora dead. And Elissa, so much in love, begging her to keep him safe. All of her scared but determined.
Everything was considered and decided before the glass was to her lips. She tilted it back and tried to make a few long swallows seem bigger than they were. The wine tasted bitter, and she wondered if it truly was or only because she knew. She kept the glass in her hand after, the better to hide how much liquid remained, and Anora chuckled softly before draining her own glass. "Why do you laugh?" asked Elissa. She had to keep her distracted.
"Oh, just life. I always knew men were fools. I loved Cailan dearly, did you know that? Every part of me thought him the most handsome and good man in the world. When I was growing up, whenever we came to the palace I looked in every corner for him. It took time, but eventually he noticed me and made me his wife. That was the last time he ever noticed me, I think, no matter how hard I tried." Her voice grew bitter and rough. "And then he died, playing childish hero. But he left me the title I'd always wanted, and I grieved his loss. And then his brother came along, so like him as to be a twin, and took that from me, too. And now he's ruining the kingdom with the family idiocy."
Her mouth twisted a little. "But he at least can show passion, unlike my husband. He's in love with you. The guards saw it. Alistair has no skill at deception. He's in love with Elissa Cousland, the girl who gets everything and appreciates nothing. He would never take you as a wife and ignore you. Probably Cailan wouldn't have either. You were born to be noticed. I was born to be nothing. But I am something, now. I will be again. And you'll be the key." She glared at Elissa, no longer dissembling. "You never knew how much I hated you. And now it's too late. Because you are just as foolish as the rest. You think I trusted you for a second? You'd turn on me the instant you could. You've always been a snake. But today the Maker showed me how you can be useful.
"You'll die tonight, and when the pretender weeps over you, when your friends are the most vulnerable with grief, your funeral will be the bloodbath I need."
A chill ran through her, and she didn't know if it was the poison or her threat against her friends. "What do you mean I'll die?"
"You'll see." Anora started to say something else, then coughed. Her hands flew to her throat. Her eyes widened. There was fury and fear in them, and a silent scream, and Elissa knew it was over.
The death was hard for all it was quiet, and she wondered where Zevran had gotten something that would do this to a person. She forced herself to watch. If she looked away, she was a coward, and she wouldn't be a coward.
Close to the end, when Anora was on the floor barely breathing, she knelt next to her. She wanted to say something cutting, to pay her back for the pain. But that would mean she was a monster, and that was something else she wouldn't be. Instead, she reached down and gripped Anora's hand in her own. She rubbed the other over her forehead gently. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Sorry for the death. Sorry for the unkindnesses so casually given. Sorry for all of the things a Cousland had been born to without understanding. Sorry that Anora had never known what it felt like to be someone else's world. "I'm sorry."
Anora didn't seem to hear her, but it didn't matter. In a minute, she was gone.
Elissa crawled over to the door later. Her limbs felt heavy, a little ache-y, and she knew the poison was certainly working. She'd tried eating things, to slow the absorption, but it was probably too late. The halls were silent, no sounds of shouting or fighting, and no one had come. She had to hold on just a little longer. She focused on breathing and keeping her eyes open.
Without warning, the doors flew open. Guards poured in, but different ones than before. Zevran came with them, and she almost fainted with relief as he knelt beside her. "What is it? Is it done?"
"Yes," she whispered. "But there was other poison. I had to drink it. I don't know what it was."
He swore at her. "And you sit here? Waiting to die?"
"Waiting for my hero to find me," she said, trying to smile.
He slashed a look at her as he dug in his pouch. "I will give you the strongest antidote I have. Someone get Wynne," he snapped behind him. "You are the stupidest woman I have ever met. Drink." She swallowed the potion obediently. He watched her face.
"I had to. Is everything…" She lost her train of thought.
"Yes, everything went well. Traitors swept up, Leliana's moles brought to heel, kingdom safe and sound. Plus or minus one stubborn noble. Alistair is going to be furious with you."
I hope so, she tried to say, but she slipped away into unconsciousness and knew nothing else.