Chapter 26: A moment in Redcliffe

A/N: Okay, so I promised some yelling, and there is quite a bit of that here. *spoilers* There will be more when the party reach Redcliffe again.

Alistair

Daylen had left with just a cursory 'goodnight', leaving Kiera and I alone. She was sitting on her bed in her nightshirt—brushing out her gleaming, unloosed hair, and she looked up as I closed the door. I sat next to her, searching for the right words to say when she spoke for me.

"Well, at least Eamon's made his intentions clear." Kiera's tone was mild, but it gave me the chills. She seemed to be more than a little upset.

"Y-yes. I—do you think we should tell him?"

"Tell him what?" Kiera was done brushing, and slipped her pale, bare legs under the sheets. Her hair obscured my view of her face, but I knew that it was purposefully calm; I didn't have much experience with women, but something told me she wasn't quite as blatant in revealing what she felt.

"About—us. You know, that—I mean, the fact that we're together…" I wasn't brought up to treat matters of the heart lightly, and I knew she felt more than what she let slip. Even as I knew that I was being impossibly childish, I wanted her to say it before I did …

"Eamon doesn't need to know that, does he?" Kiera hooked her hair behind her ear and met my gaze levelly. Her blue eyes were gentle, inviting—no longer as closed off as before. Yet a glimmer of something—(doubt?) hinted at her similar disconcertion. "We're both consenting adults, and—very much… attracted to each other."

So she was avoiding that word too—well at least she didn't protest about us being together.

I nodded in agreement, and was rewarded with a smile—one that didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was good enough. Kiera still seemed to be distracted by her thoughts, but I was glad that she hadn't yelled at me. I wanted to yell at me. Eamon had seemed to be more focused on the succession than the Blight, and I had said nothing to remind him that I was a Grey Warden; Daylen did that, and had been quickly rebuffed.

The Landsmeet seemed to be far more important to him than the threat of the archdemon. Sigh.

Kiera had lain back onto the sheets and pillows, fanning her hair out luxuriously, and I got off the bed. Her soft, silvery tone stopped me when I reached the door. "Leaving already?"

Was she proposing—wow. I hadn't really expected that. "You're… going to bed right? I shouldn't—"

She didn't allow me to finish that sentence, observing lightly, "It's a large bed to sleep in, Alistair."

"Now who's the one stating the obvious?" I grinned, recalling all the times she had accused Daylen and I of the same.

"You really want to go?" Kiera had propped herself up on an elbow, eyeing me carefully.

Maker, she wasn't trying to be subtle, and I felt just the little bit flattered. "No, not really."

And there really was space enough for the two of us.

XOxOx

Kiera

I could see that Alistair was tired, confused and divided on the issue; this was his country after all, and the bloodline of King Maric would be needed to stabilize it in the face of the oncoming civil war with Loghain. And yet, as a Senior Warden of Ferelden, his duty was with the Blight—and that should come before all else.

His breathing soon evened—but I lay awake, watching over him as he slept. I wasn't tired at all—thoughts kept swimming around in my head. For one, this Eamon was being selfish; he wasn't even going to ask Alistair for his opinion, and I suspected that this had been the case when the latter had been staying here as a child.

The larger problem here was the way he had expected the Grey Wardens to just support his political machinations at this Landsmeet; Grey Wardens were supposed to keep out of such conflicts, we were an order on our own.

Inevitably, even in Orlais, the Wardens were drawn into such nuisances, but to have someone just anticipate our support and demand such things to our faces—this was something new. Fereldan nobles were much ruder than I had expected.

Alistair had seemed more concerned about us, this tentative relationship that we had found ourselves; complicated and yet simple, an attraction that would no doubt inspire more mistrust for the Ferelden Grey Wardens and their cause. I too was conflicted.

I wanted to remain at his side—I wanted him to continue wanting this—wanting me; the easy, uncomplicated feelings that he showed, giving me hope beyond anything I could have imagined. He was like none other.

xOxOx

The girl had done it—young or no, she had escaped from the Tower, fleeing from the sword that would no doubt fall upon her friends, it drew closer the longer she remained. From Orlais they would come, bearing down upon those she loved—searching for a maleficar. The letter said so, it had been written in Marc's hand, a warning to her, for her to run. The Templars would show no mercy, and would no doubt slaughter all that were in their way; a veritable Exalted March upon the 'powerful blood mage' they had deemed that she was.

They would name her Ferelden friends to be under the influence which only maleficar could wield, an excuse to invade, the aim, to 'cleanse' this dog nation's Chantry. This was thus the reason she ran, escaping to Orlais, the last place they would look; so that Daylen would be safe. She had one-upped the Templars, yet she didn't go to him—no she couldn't, not to Marc. He'd face the same, if not worse—he was a Templar and that act would be treason. She had kept hidden, journeying far from Val Royeaux, searching for sanctuary.

Ferelden had been nothing but a brief excursion— this, the girl kept telling herself. She had gone immediately to the Grey Wardens in Orlais; for theirs was a power that the Holy Divine had no sway over, they were defenders of the innocent. They had not welcomed her with open arms, but had taken her in out of pure pity—and she had worked hard to prove her own place amongst them. It was a relief when they finally allowed her to Join the Order. She had fought to get to where she was, and was no longer answerable to anyone—not a Templar, not a priest, not her blood. But she was just a single one. She was always alone.

xOxOx

Leliana

Daylen and I awoke to no small amount of disturbance; angry shouts seemed to be coming from the Arl's study—we crept downstairs and witnessed a most angry situation, the nobleman seemed to be arguing with his wife while Alistair and Kiera remained silent. Isolde was furious as she berated this Eamon; calling him a hypocrite when he blustered.

The fact that the Arl did not raise his voice at the woman made it clear that he loved her very much indeed; and all of us present knew that she was making use of this knowledge shamelessly as she argued for Alistair and Kiera.

"How can you look at them and accuse her of making use of Alistair? Is it because of Therin blood? Or because she carries in her a bloodline that flows all the way back to Drakon? Emperor Florian has abdicated and Celene is on the throne, Eamon— this child is the furthest person in line to rule in the Orlesian Empire! You of all people should know this; your Ferelden is not under threat through the two of them continuing such relations—"

She had paused to breathe, and the Arl took the opportunity to state his concerns.

"I am well aware of that, Isolde, all I mean to say is that it will be most unfavourable for the two to remain so… attached to the other when we present Alistair at the Landsmeet—the nobles will see it as another 'Orlesian plot'— as Loghain will no doubt—" This apparently was the wrong thing to say.

"You are a hypocrite. You know that nothing is further from the truth than that, and to force them to go along with your—schemes—regardless of their affections, and it is plain selfish. She might have Imperial blood, but that should not bother any Fereldan. Your King Maric was much more prolific in his sowing."

The woman's voice grew cold as she regarded the wilting Eamon. She had taken a most protective stance, standing between the Arl and Kiera, crossing her arms firmly.

"So what if everyone else thinks that it is a devious plot by Orlais? Take a good long look at them—Eamon, she saved Connor, while you praise that other mage, she remains silent even though it was her suggestion to bring the Circle of Magi to Redcliffe. Do you not see that they are very much in love? Do you not see that we were once in their very situation? Do you not see that the future of both our countries might very well lie in the union of the two of them?"

Th Arl tried to speak again, and frankly, I pitied him. The man simply did not know when to give in. "Isolde—she heralds from—"

"The Orlesian Imperial family, yes—but let me tell you one thing, if you want to talk about your precious bloodlines; she is still an Imperial Princess by virtue of her parents, Florian and Éléonore—and is no lesser than Alistair. In fact, she is more than a good match for him; he is an illegitimate heir, while her only failing is that she's a mage."

Isolde's manner grew positively icy as she drew in a pained breath, her eyes narrowing. "Unless… you detest that word so much—mage?"

"I do not—especially since I know that Connor is one." The Arl's voice was hollow as he breathed a sigh of defeat, and even Daylen seemed most impressed by the Arlessa's tirade.

Alistair and Kiera were shifting uncomfortably throughout the whole affair, mostly stunned at the intensity of the Isolde's passionate outburst.

Arl Eamon had slumped in his high-backed chair, and Isolde quickly dismissed our companions; presumably before Eamon would get his strength back up again. They all but fled from the study, and we slipped out into the courtyard, where the rest of our party were waiting. It was a most exciting, and enlightening encounter.

P.S.: Phew. I hope you enjoyed reading this! Thanks, and please review! xD