Chapter 21: A Good Bad Idea
Lady Glass
I write to you now once again asking your pardon. Words do not come easily to me so I hope you can forgive my simple scrawl. I would not risk using my scribe because I know he would take too much pleasure embarrassing me by dictating my exact words, likely for his own amusement. Perhaps I should punish him for that…but…
Never mind.
It seems that no matter what I do, I cause you either shame or discomfort that was never my intent. That day we met outside the stables was my fault yet you were forced to run, just as you did the day you tried to teach me how to dance.
Perhaps it would be better if I stayed away, but I know that such an act would be wrong for our beloved country. I may not understand everything about your work but I know it to be impressive, and that your desire to help us is genuine. I would be a much poorer king than I already know myself to be if I let your contribution fade because I was too clumsy or awkward to keep from making a fool of myself in your presence.
I was never meant to be a ruler and I thank you for humoring me with all my heart, but that does not change that I have wronged you.
So now, I must make amends.
I must once again beg your forgiveness, not as a king but as myself.
I ask you to return to the capital not for me, but for the homeland we both love. I will accept your anger if it exists and will stay away from you if that is what you desire.
Trust me, I'm used to having nobles cast me away, your decision will not affect my opinion of your work.
Return to us Milady, please…this is not an order, but a request of a man who wishes to see Ferelden made strong again.
If you return by Satinalia, I will know that you have accepted my apology and I will be grateful. If not, I wish you well and good health in whatever you decide to do. For now, I remain your humble servant…
Alistair.
PS: Mister Rich understands what was going on when he barged in on us. He will not make things difficult for you, this I swear.
IOI
It was those words that drew Bea back to the capital. When she had first opened the letter she had expected the king to speak down to her, to call her childish for her flight that day during their aborted dancing lesson.
What she had actually found was something far more…intriguing.
The letter safely locked in her desk in her room still continued to invade her thoughts. Even the glory of the Satinalia Ball paled in comparison to the thoughts bouncing around her head.
She was so distracted she almost walked over the poor elven page who tried to take her fur cloak. She blushed and apologized, the poor man insisted that it must have been his fault and that she should not give it another thought.
The very thought made her wince, she…she was not one of those kind of people; she did not need to abuse elven servants to make herself feel better.
Alas that thought faded quickly, so strong were the hold the King's words had on her.
Maker, she thought.
What had he been thinking?
It surprised her that he actually spoke to Mister Rich on her behalf. The man could be a powerful enemy, she knew that, and yet the King faced him down…for her.
Astonishing!
Most nobles she had met in Orlais would not have stuck out their neck for their own parents much less a scholar in their employ. The King risked much on her behalf, after that…
How could she not return?
His Majesty…Alistair… he was…not what she expected, he continued to surprise her, and, as much as she hated to admit it, to tug at both her heart and her conscience.
Alistair, His Majesty was so…so…honest with her, it was humbling, and his humility, the words he used did not sound like a man of great bravado…
Instead, they sounded like an honestly nice and gentle man caught up in matters beyond anything any smart person could hope to be.
She had to admit it, hearing him speak of nobles turning their back on him, and putting down his performance as King…it was heartbreaking. She had heard from many during her travels that the common people loved King Alistair, they believed him their savior, and a voice that actually spoke for them.
In her eyes, such a man was not unworthy of his title, in fact, if more nobles thought like His Majesty did, Thedas would be a much better place indeed.
As much sadness was in the letter she also felt a sense of great hope as well. He did not see her as a burden, despite everything she had done since presenting herself at court all those months ago. He did not blame her for everything that had happened; instead choosing to take on the full responsibility for such acts himself.
It was also clear that, despite the many rumors, he did not see her as some pretty plaything. He actually sought her advice and aid, knowing that she had his support, she could deal with all those fools claiming she was nothing but the King's whore. What did she care when her work was saving lives and making a Ferelden a better place, and hopefully, one day, a safe haven for other scholars who wished to advance the will of science.
Let the nay-sayers grumble, she did not care.
Of course, that also meant she had to be careful. She and His Majesty needed to keep their relationship completely and utterly professional, to protect him. If the two of them fed the rumor mill, it would just take away from what she was trying to do, what the king asked her to do.
She and the King…in a relationship, preposterous!
In time, she hoped the rest of the kingdom would see that.
She would need to be polite and keep her distance. It would be necessary to explain all this to His Majesty of course; she did not want him to get the wrong idea. She had no desire to hurt him. Father would also be annoyed, but once again, that was something she would just have to endure.
Bea shook her head.
Everything she had seen up to this point. It suggested that King Alistair was a kind, generous, handsome, and charming monarch.
She smiled slightly.
He would make some lucky woman a very good husband one day. The fact that she would become Queen was just another reward for such a union.
Bea shook her head.
If she was anyone else, she might have tempted to be jealous of such a woman.
Fortunately, she was not.
Bea was smart.
She knew her place, and it was a respectful distance from the king.
That was all there was…
…And all there would ever be.
IOI
The Glass Family stood while the nobles attending the party sized them up.
Father seemed more than pleased, and perhaps he was.
This was likely the biggest splash their family had ever made at one of these things.
Well…she would not try to harm his moment. Papa worked hard.
Let him enjoy this.
Arland stayed close to her while Quentin and Margaret gossiped behind her.
Suddenly, the crowd began to part, murmuring excitedly.
Bea's eyes narrowed.
What in Andraste's name…?
Em leaned in close to her.
"It seems the King wishes to greet us, himself," she cooed.
Bea's eyes widened.
Sweet Andraste, she thought.
NO!
Sure enough, there was King Alistair moving his way through the crowd, a crowd that was parting like a curtain before a hand.
The young lady Glass swallowed hard.
The King…looked; well there was no way to deny it.
The King…he looked good!
His crimson robes with their fur and gold embroidery looked nothing less than regal. The simple crown he wore took nothing away from his warriors bearing, his eyes blazed with cheer, and…and…
Bea frowned.
Something…well… she hoped that she was wrong.
Something she prayed to both the Maker and his bride that she was wrong.
She dipped low, diverting her eyes respectfully.
Professionalism, she reminded herself.
We need to keep things, perfectly and truly…
Professional.
The king stood before her.
She swallowed hard again.
The rest of her family was bowing as well.
She fought the urge to whimper.
Let me be wrong, she thought.
For the love of the Maker!
Let me be wrong!
She risked a look up; the king was looking down upon her.
Her belly twisted slightly.
Maker save me.
"Happy Satinalia, Your Majesty," she said.
She saw him holding out his hand. She reached out and took it.
The King pulled her to her feet.
It…it was all she could to keep from yelping.
She found herself staring into his eyes, they burned with a warmth that both excited and terrified her.
"Happy Satinalia, Milady," he purred.
She swallowed hard again, as he pulled her out onto the dance floor.
A small part of her wanted to pull away from him, to run for the door, and from there the nearest carriage, and from there the nearest ship back to the University…
This…this was not how it was supposed to be.
She…she was going to end up hurting Ferelden!
She was going to end up hurting Alistair!
Bea tried not to meet his eyes, even as the crowd began to form up on the dance floor.
Form up for the Dowager's Allemande!
She shivered.
She glanced at the king, if he noticed her discomfort, he did not show it.
He was still smiling shyly.
"I have been practicing," he promised.
"Trust me."
Bea's blush darkened.
She…she did not want to hurt anyone!
Not Ferelden and not the King!
Yet, she could no longer tell which would cause her more pain.
Her Country or her King.
She shook her head.
That fool, she thought.
That sweet wonderful fool.
The dance began.
She focused on the steps.
The steps were at least something tangible, something she could control…
She fought the urge to sigh.
…Unlike her traitorous heart.
IOI
Mother Allison watched from her place on the balcony. The chantry priest glared down on the dance floor, down on the whore trying to worm her way into the King's heart.
She shook her head.
Could His Majesty not see!
Could he not tell what that…that concubine represented!
She was harbinger for change, and change was rarely for the better, especially when it came to so called academics.
The priest shook her head.
Anora MacTir had also had an interest in the sciences, but she at least understood the value of accepting Chantry oversight of such matters.
Academics, much like mages, played with fire, and with forces that only the Maker should understand.
She sighed.
Such arrogance never ceased to sicken her.
"Happy Satinalia, Your Reverence."
She turned, finding the prow like nose of the Orlesian Ambassador invading her personal space.
The mother smiled in spite of that.
"Mister Ambassador," she said with a slight bow, "What brings you to my side."
"Merely observing the spectacle below," he said with a slight smirk.
He chuckled slightly.
"For a pack of Ferelden dog lords, they perform the Allemande almost…proficiently."
Allison glared, as a Ferelden; she did not like being referred to as a dog lord.
The Ambassador noticed her discomfort.
He smiled.
"I mean no disrespect, Your Reverence. In fact I have a high opinion of the Chantry."
He glanced down below pointing slightly.
Allison frowned.
The man was pointing at the whore.
Her eyes narrowed.
What was this now?
The Ambassador smiled.
"You really hate her don't you?" he said.
The priest sniffed.
"I am a servant of the Maker," she snorted, "I hate no one."
Again, the Ambassador chuckled.
"Of course," he replied, "Of course, if you did…"
He leaned in closer.
"You would not be alone," he whispered.
That got the Mother's attention.
She blinked, and pretended to watch out of the crowd.
It had not taken much, but now the Ambassador had her complete and undivided attention.
"Explain," she murmured, her voice barely carrying over the music below.
The Ambassador licked his lips, almost like a wolf, savoring the meal to come.
His eyes never left the Lady Glass.
"Changes are coming in the New Year, Your Reverence, big changes," he said softly.
Again Allison's brow furrowed.
"What kind of changes?"
The Ambassador shrugged.
"That young woman down there had made some waves in the last few weeks."
The man pursed his lips.
"Some people would prefer if she stopped…permanently."
Allison paused; a hint of a smile came to her lips.
"That could be risky, my son, given the King's…infatuation."
"The king would have my condolences of course," he said, "Such a dangerous place the roads around Denerim these days. So many hard people…
The man smiled again.
"Fatal accidents happen all the time, and those in power, remain blameless when such matters occur."
Allison blinked, if the man was saying what she thought he was saying…
A member of the Chantry should take steps to stay such matters, but…
She frowned.
But…
The man was right.
Accidents happened all the time.
They were tragic, but that was all they were.
Tragic.
"Is the young lady to be travelling soon?"
"My sources say so," he answered, "Perhaps it is best that you do not know all the details."
The Mother smiled.
Ignorance was bliss they said, but it was also very useful when certain matters were…dealt with.
She looked down on the concubine once again, and felt a black flicker of rage.
For the faith, she was prepared to act, but if someone else took up the banner, well…
Who was she to stop them?
She put her hand on the Ambassador's shoulder, he lowered his head respectfully.
"May the Maker bless you in your endeavors, Ambassador," she said, May we all find the pass to enlightenment."
"Perhaps we will," he agreed, "Good night Revered Mother, enjoy the rest of the party."
The priest smiled.
"Fair well my son," she said, "Maker go with you, and watch over you."
The man nodded and slipped back into the crowd.
Mother Allison returned to watching the King and his whore.
She smiled slightly.
The Maker moved in mysterious ways, perhaps this was him showing her the way.
It was a bad thing to be sure, but a bad thing done with the most noble of purposes.
What was so wrong with that?
When it came to the matters of the souls of her flock, she was prepared to do what she must to keep them safe, to keep the world safe.
That was simply, the way things were.
It was not that hard to accept, one blasphemous girl for the souls of all of Denerim that was not a sacrifice that was a bargain.
She raised her hand, speaking the first line of the prayer for the dead.
She suspected that the whore would need it soon.
The Maker truly did work in mysterious ways.
She found herself looking forward to the New Year.
Things…were going to be interesting for a while she thought.
…Very interesting…indeed.