Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lover's Walk
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I'll never know why I left you standing in the rain
Crying tears of emptiness
It's driving me insane
~Trixter
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"It's curious," Alfstanna said once they were away from the noise of the great hall. "When I look at His Majesty, I see a king, and one who has managed to earn my respect as well as my fealty in the short time he has held his throne. Yet once you appear, it takes nothing but a few injudicious words from a half-wit to transform him back into a Grey Warden, ready to draw steel on your behalf. It must be quite charming, to have your own knight in shining armor."
Elissa glanced sidelong at the woman beside her, but Alfstanna was smiling, having found Alistair's fit of temper more amusing than anything. Elissa gave an innocent shake of her head, though she smiled impishly back. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here strictly in an advisory capacity."
Alfstanna laughed and linked her arm through Elissa's while a couple of guards, including one of Alistair's personal entourage, followed along at a respectful distance. The night was balmy and warm, the air of the gardens heavily scented with roses. "As you say, Elissa, but I'm certain I was not the only one who saw you holding hands with him under the table, and Lyra's belongings are being packed and loaded as quickly as her father can manage at this hour of the night." She smiled as they sat down on a stone bench along the path. "I don't suppose he's bothered to propose yet?"
The question was friendly—but Alfstanna was a shrewd woman, not likely to ask anything without having some agenda. Elissa ran what she knew of the situation surrounding the Waking Sea through her mind and quickly decided the banness didn't really need anything from her, was likely just fishing for a hint on whom she should be paying court to.
She decided not to indulge her and smoothly changed the subject. "He has another, more pressing issue to worry about over the complaints that he's yet to marry."
Alfstanna nodded, not at all put off by the sidestep. "So I heard. Daniel." She looked out across the elegantly trimmed shrubs and climbing roses, thinking. "Waking Sea will stand in favor of adopting him to the line."
Elissa stared, startled at such a direct answer when she had expected much more fencing. Alfstanna only laughed beneath her breath. "I'd like to think we've become friends, Elissa. These games weary me. And frankly, there's no cause for me to vote otherwise. I know you were together during the Blight, Daniel could not look more like a Theirin, and Ferelden needs an heir. It's rather straightforward, for a change." She reached up to brush the braided strand of hair that had fallen forward back behind her ear. "But, as your friend, let me be frank with you. In this situation, you must tread very, very carefully. It looks poorly to have an unmarried king with strong ties to a woman in your position. If he grants you even one concession, the grumbling that Ferelden's monarch is in the Grey Wardens' pocket won't be far behind. You would be wise not to put him in that position."
"What would you suggest?"
"Step down," she said bluntly. "You are Ferelden's hero, and were you to serve as the Grey Wardens' voice at the Landsmeet while still living amongst the people, it would gain more sympathy than as a distant commander who happens to have sway in Denerim." While Elissa digested that, Alfstanna gave her a teasing smile. "Or, you could just marry him. Considering the half-formed fairytale you two have managed to build around yourselves, the public would be eating out of your hand."
Elissa laughed. "What an abrupt curiosity you seem to have in this, Alfstanna. I'm beginning to think you have a personal interest in the matter."
"Not at all. Decent dressmakers are hard fought over during royal functions. I merely hoped for a head start."
… … …
Elissa was drunk.
Though it was not the stumbling, slurry variety of drunk that she had experienced only once in her life thanks to Zevran and her own naivety when it came to hard liquor, she was definitely beginning to notice. The room glowed, seeming pleasantly fuzzy and very not-solid for stone, and though she had always liked Alfstanna and enjoyed her company, she was suddenly quite certain she had never been this funny before, and that she had never heard her giggle just as much as Leliana as they rubbed the tears of mirth out of their eyes, occasionally earning a strange look from one of the serving girls, which only made them collapse into giggles again.
Given the number of empty wine bottles, it was possible they were a little drunk, too.
Leliana had bit her lip in some concern when Elissa returned to the table and started gulping wine like they were in danger of running out, but then poured herself a hefty glass with a little shrug, sensing her friend needed the release rather than a lecture.
Leliana was never one to allow Elissa to make a fool of herself alone.
The night was wearing on, and still the honor table was not empty, the men remaining enjoying tankard after tankard of mead, their laughs growing louder and more unruly with each pass the page made to refill their cups. None of them noticed the three women still sitting at the lower table, giggling like school girls for a few stolen hours while most of the castle slept.
Well, almost none of them.
Elissa had no idea how much Alistair had indulged, but he seemed sober enough, occasionally shooting her a glance and a smile. He was ready to take his leave of the hall, and had been for at least an hour. She could tell by his posture, leaning casually back in his chair with his fingers curled at his chin, one of the more recent poses she hadn't recognized at first, but had since figured out meant he was bored out of his mind and pretending not to be.
The hunger in his eyes every time he looked her way was much more familiar. It had been so long since they had been together, between her injuries and the time spent on the road, and she felt a flutter of anticipation as his glances became long, lingering looks, begging her to take herself to bed.
"You're being quite cruel to poor Alistair," Leliana said, and then caught herself, somewhat unstably. "I mean—the king. His Majesty." She sighed. "Oh, bother."
"Leliana, I think we're safe from the rules of etiquette for now." Elissa chuckled into her cup before taking another swallow. "And I am not."
"Elissa chooses to believe that everyone around her is blind," Alfstanna said with a tiny hiccup. "As if we aren't catching the backlash of his frustration. How many times has he glared at you now, Leliana?"
"Oh, at least a dozen. I do believe he thinks we are detaining her."
"Well, there is detaining someone, and then there's detaining someone, and I don't believe we're guilty of either." She stared at the bottom of her glass with a frown. "That didn't make any sense at all out loud, did it?"
Leliana and Elissa collapsed into another round of laughter.
Leliana clutched her stomach in some attempt to halt the giggles and leaned in closer. "But in all honesty, Elissa, you should probably retire. You have several things to see to tomorrow, and you will be very upset with me if I let you show up bleary-eyed and sick." She glanced again at the honor table, her smile widening. "And I think Alistair is losing his patience with subtlety."
Elissa snuck a peek at in his direction to see him watching her. He raised an eyebrow when she met his eyes, and she smothered a chuckle. "Um… I think I'm going to bed," she said slowly, but snatched up another bottle before sweeping away, much to the entertainment of the two women behind her.
He was right behind her—a little obvious of him, and she was sure she heard a rise in volume in the giggling from the far side of the hall, but Elissa found she didn't mind too much when he caught her in the dark hallway and pulled her into his arms. Almost as soon as her lips touched his, his mouth teased hers into opening up for him. Her body's reaction to his pent up passion was immediate, pressing up against him without any concern of who might stumble across them. He broke away only reluctantly, muttering against her jaw. "Have you no mercy?"
She laughed quietly. "Nope. I've been told I'm quite mercy-less, in fact. Merciless. Drat. You know what I mean."
"Aaaand…you're drunk, aren't you?" He leaned back marginally, somehow both wary and amused. "Wow. I didn't think you did that anymore."
"I am not! Highborn ladies don't get drunk. We get…we get…blast it, what's the word I'm looking for?"
"Drunk."
She summoned as convincing a pout as she could manage, feeling as light and giddy as she was. "I had a difficult evening."
"I'm not sure this is the smartest way to handle it."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't my brother tell me something about a night when he had to pour you into your chamber when he was in Denerim this spring? Should I go ask him what drove you to get so—"
"Anyway," he said, snatching the bottle from her and setting it down on a window ledge. "Leliana and Alfstanna, too, huh? I should have made sure to see that." He kissed her again. "Though," he added a little breathlessly, using his body to make her back up as he lowered his head to brush her neck with the very tips of his lips. "I think I can be forgiven for having other things on my mind."
Her back met with cool stone and his mouth silenced any retort she may have had, capturing hers with a thoroughness that took her breath away. "Liss," he gasped, and his edgy tone raised goosebumps along her skin. "Which room is closer?"
"Yours."
Later, she couldn't remember how they had gotten there or when they slipped past the guards stationed outside in the hall, but it seemed only a second later they were alone in the antechamber of the suites he had been given, pulling at each other's clothes while they stumbled towards the door to the bedroom.
"You seem…different." She laughed between kisses, shoving the leather jerkin off his shoulders the same time he shrugged out of it.
He gave her a rakish smile. "I've been sitting all night thinking that I have the most beautiful, brilliant, breathtaking woman in all of Thedas," he whispered, pinning her against the door, his hands braced on either side of her. "You have no idea how difficult it was to pretend I wanted to be there instead of closed up in here with you writhing beneath me."
Elissa gave him a slow smile, reaching behind her for the latch to the door. "And what would you think of me then, Your Majesty?" She leaned forward and tugged on his collar, backing up into the darkened chamber as she whispered, "And maybe I planned for you to be the one doing the squirming."
He groaned and pushed her the rest of the way into the room.
… … …
Consciousness came unwillingly to Elissa the next morning. Her brain was sluggish and felt like it radiated a pain entirely separate from the one in her skull, and her tongue felt swollen and sticky in her mouth. Aches and pains took liberties in every joint and curve, chiding her for the misuse of her body. She tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was a blinding white light and she drew the blanket over her head to block it out. Awareness began to creep over her slowly, returning memories of the previous evening, gingerly testing here and there to see if she had done anything too stupid.
Having always been a person who slept in some form of bedclothes, one of the first things to draw her attention was that she wasn't wearing any. Or anything, for that matter. Her hair felt heavy and knotted, so she hadn't gotten around to braiding that, either. She still remembered everything, though some of the details were a little fuzzy, so she had at least exerted some self-control, apparently.
With a sigh she shoved the blankets off of her head, wincing off the fresh invasion of light. Alistair was snoring softly beside her, sleeping on his stomach with his arm thrown over the pillow. He stirred when she sat up, opening his eyes a crack before slamming them shut with a groan and rolling onto his back.
She knew exactly how he felt. "Tell me why drinking always seems like it'll fix anything?"
"I honestly don't remember," he said, full of remorse and rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "I think I was already half crocked before we even came up here." He raised his head to glance at the clothes strewn every which way across the room. "It certainly looks like it was fun, though."
She arched an eyebrow at him. It was still hard to tell when he was being literal or not, no matter well she knew him. "Were you really that far gone?"
He smiled, suddenly looking as sleek and smug as a stroked cat. "No."
Elissa recalled her shameless abandon from the previous evening and looked away hurriedly, sure that he had her blushing for a change. A crumpled pile of blue on the floor beside the bed made her groan softly and she picked up her poor misused gown. The cords of the bodice had been snapped, the knot tying them dangling pathetically from one end.
Alistair made a sound of genuine disappointment and fiddled with the frayed ends. "Damn. I liked that one."
"Obviously."
He laughed softly and gently tugged at her arm, pulling her down to curl next to him. "I never had any idea what a headache those things were to get off." He slipped his arm beneath her while she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'll take you in your breeches and shirt any day of the week."
"It may be healthier for my wardrobe, truly." She yawned. "Are you going to be able to be the wildly charismatic king you need to be today?"
He laughed again. "If I ever am. I'm just feeling a little groggy, and more than one person in this castle is waking up in much worse shape than me. I've got the whole Grey Wardens not becoming easily hungover thing working to my advantage."
"I think that's more of an Alistair thing. I feel like I've been reincarnated as slop."
"Awww." He rolled to his side and looked at her sympathetically, but she noted there was a distinctly wicked gleam in his eyes. "Well, you know what the best cure for a hangover is."
Despite her misery, the feel of his warm hand sliding slowly over the bare skin of her hip and ribs had the same effect it always did. She shivered pleasantly. "And what is that, exactly?"
He leaned closer, hovering over her. "I'd be more than happy to demonstrate."
The knock at the door was as effective as a splash of cold water, at least for Elissa. Alistair sighed loudly and dropped his head to her shoulder for a moment before twisting around. "Someone had better be dead!"
"Not to my knowledge, but it's early yet," came Wynne's unmistakably dry response. "Teyrn Varl has just arrived. One might suggest it would be prudent for His Majesty get his royal self downstairs and greet him personally."
… … …
Alistair emerged from the chamber a remarkably short time later, bathed and dressed and still somewhat annoyed with the interruption. Wynne was tapping her foot with her arms crossed over her chest, looking distinctly disapproving. She glanced over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him. "Isn't Elissa going to join you?"
"I'm trying to spare her the sight of the horde." He grinned and pushed a hand through his damp hair in some attempt to groom it. "Besides, she's…uh…not feeling too well. Let her sleep it off."
"Yes, I've already had several requests for my services this morning," she said, her eyebrows drawing together to increase the stern expression. "If Elissa needs me to tend to her, I will, but she really needs to be at your side today. After you openly presented her as your companion last night, it may seem as though something were wrong between you for her not to be there today."
Alistair waved the objection off. "It's not that important. They'll probably just assume she's still in bed, too. Besides, Daniel's case is strictly my concern for the time being, until she has a formal voice at the Landsmeet. Elissa is just here to prove we're united in this."
"Hence the dangers in letting them think something has gone wrong. She has a duty to you in this, and it's high time you stopped letting her sulk and starting seeing that she tend to it."
He frowned. "She's a person, too, Wynne, and one who got her pride shredded in full view of a crowded hall last night. It would be hard enough for anyone to tolerate with dignity, but for someone like Elissa, we're lucky we didn't see bloodshed. Give her a little time to lick her wounds, at least. She's not going to up and disappear on us."
She scowled, and Alistair had a sudden surge of annoyance towards her he had to rapidly tamp down. Funny that he had never noticed it before, but Wynne had a terrible habit of talking about Elissa like she was somehow a possession of the kingdom. And she wasn't the only one. Even Fergus, who openly adored Elissa and tolerated the ribbing he got about his hellcat sister very well, had been alternating between lecturing her about her duty and chiding her about her appearance since they arrived, and Elissa had already confirmed it wasn't new behavior from him. He remembered the Blight and their companions, and realized they all had some sort of expectation of what Elissa was supposed to be, and were more than willing to either drop hints or outright press her to live up to them. In fact, the only people he had ever seen that didn't preach to her about duty and obligation were…
Morrigan and Zevran.
Which was by far the most annoying, frustrating, disquieting revelation to ever cross his mind.
Wynne sighed and looked at him sadly, as if he had somehow misunderstood. "Alistair, you know I care about Elissa. I was tempted to drag Lyra out of here by her hair myself when I heard what she said about her. But she has more important things to consider than her own feelings."
Alistair shook his head, adopting the tone that even Wynne didn't argue with. "Let her be." He strode past her, angry with himself that he had never seen this before. "You know, I'm beginning to think the real problem here is that she's got too many people telling her that."
… … …
Alistair was on his way upstairs later that afternoon for a few stolen moments to check in with Daniel in the nursery when Morrigan stepped out of seemingly nowhere in an empty corridor, blocking his path. "What, pray tell, is taking you so long?"
He got the feeling she had been waiting to catch him alone to ambush him. "What are you talking about?"
"When do you plan to give her that ring you've been carrying around for weeks and end this foolishness?"
Alistair was caught completely off guard. He found himself stepping back warily as if the witch had developed some new power he didn't know how to approach. "How did you—"
"Answer the question, Templar."
He recovered quickly—showing any kind of weakness around Morrigan was a bit like diving into a pool full of sharks with an open wound. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her, his manner sardonic enough to make her eyes narrow on him. "Are you sleeping with Aeryc?"
The look on her face would have been hysterical, in any other situation. "What?"
He shrugged. "Everyone always seems so eager to know all the details of my relationship so that they can chime in on it; I just thought I'd try it out for myself for a change. Instead I find myself really hoping you don't answer that. Where's the satisfaction exactly?"
"Are you completely incapable of holding a serious conversation with anyone?"
"No. Only with you. We're not talking about this."
Her hands found her hips, her glare becoming less of the natural result of his presence and more threatening. "Even though 'tis your fault that the woman you claim to love is caught somewhere between mincing and stumbling in order to try to be someone who no longer exists? They whisper about her in the hallways, wondering what concessions she'll be granted, wondering what they can do to use her influence with you. Honestly. Even jackals bring down the kill before they fight over the meat."
"What are you, her silent guardian?"
"Her more vocal brother should be of greater concern to you, as he will soon have your hide for his rug and take pleasure in wiping his boots on you daily if you continue to bed her without a proposal. He is not wholly tolerant of your situation, no matter what he endeavors to make you believe."
Alistair shifted uncomfortably at the bald truth of that statement. "I'm going to ask her," he mumbled.
"When?"
"I've already been turned down twice. A man can only take so much rejection. Forgive me if I prefer to space mine out a bit."
"You have the audacity to think of me as ruthless. The women of this gathering could have made my own mother think twice about opening her mouth in their presence. I do not appreciate the thought of Elissa being the subject of any more of their speculation than necessary."
Alistair sighed. "I know."
She glared at him. "Then fix it."
… … …
The young king found he was quite pleased with himself, in the coming days, for never having ventured to explore Highever before. It gave Elissa the chance to show it to him. They spent the afternoons riding through the grassy plains or on the beaches with the boys, more often than not accompanied by three or four of Fergus' guests, who had begun to view the visit as more of a country vacation then a matter of court. In the relaxed, quiet atmosphere that lingered continuously in the lands of Highever, nearly as potent as a drug, Alistair and Elissa found that even in the castle they were able to keep their respective roles more casually than would have been allowed in Denerim, though he could see with increasing concern that it still wore away at her.
Two days turned into three, and then four, and though Elissa was able to stay behind on the excuse that Aeryc and Morrigan still couldn't seem to find what they were looking for, he wondered if at least part of it was honest relief in putting her burdens aside to simply enjoy being with him.
They had been there for five days when Alistair returned from the village later than usual, having gone down to pay his respects to the Revered Mother of the local Chantry and test the waters concerning Elissa's suggestion for the Tower mages. He was well pleased with the minor bits of information he had managed to garner from the formidable woman, enough so that it was time to seriously beginning planning around the idea and arranging more formal meetings with the higher ranking priestesses.
It took him a long time to find Elissa that particular evening, as no one seemed to have seen her for most of the day. Finally, he came across a ruined wall in the back of the grounds, hidden away behind the wall of the courtyard. Weeds and wild roses choked the crumbling stone, revealing only a portion of a wall and one side to what had once been a doorway. Elissa wandered back and forth aimlessly, barefoot in the grass, her head down in deep thought.
"Liss?"
She started and spun around, eyes wide in surprise.
"I'm sorry. I thought you heard me."
She gave him a weak smile and crossed her arms, looking self-conscious as her eyes darted about nervously. "I was just…distracted, I suppose."
"What's so wrong?" He looked around for some sign of what was bothering her, noting that this area seemed to rest lower than the regular grounds, and grassy tracks indicated there was once a passage that led out of the protective walls…
Realization and a sympathetic kind of horror filled him, pinning his eyes back to hers. "This is where the larder used to be."
Elissa didn't answer right away, kicking at the stones at her feet. "I don't know why I came here."
Alistair didn't know what to say, but standing there, it became more real to him than it ever had before. In his mind's eye, he could see now, where Bryce and Eleanor had died to give their daughter time to escape, could see in the crumbling doorway Duncan dragging Elissa away, even as she screamed and fought, devastated at the idea of leaving them behind.
Without thinking he walked up and slipped his arms around her, and she turned readily and accepted his embrace, her head rested against his chest. "You're freezing," he muttered, adjusting his cloak to fit around her.
"I know. I guess I've been out here longer than I thought."
Alistair stripped his cloak off entirely and draped it around her shoulders before taking both of her hands. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."
She followed obediently, not speaking the entire way as he led her through the courtyard and up to the gardens, choosing a corner where the patio ended in a stone railing that overlooked the sea, as far away from the ruins as he could think to get. She stayed distressingly silent, looking up in detached curiosity at a climbing vine of white roses that covered the wall.
"Elissa," he said at length. "Please talk to me. I don't know how to help you with whatever you're going through if you don't talk to me."
She leaned against the railing, her arms crossed and her head lowered. "I don't want to step down." It was very quiet, enough that he wouldn't have heard it had he not been listening so closely. She took a breath and squared her shoulders, summoning her innate practicality even in her distress. "Fergus was right about this much: it's high time I took the position in Denerim and stopped riding all over the countryside with Daniel. But, this is what I am now. I don't fit in anywhere without the Grey Wardens."
"If that's what you really want, there are ways to work around it."
Elissa blinked, apparently armed and geared up for battle. She looked a little deflated that he wasn't going to go along with it. "Um, maybe you didn't hear me right."
He laughed quietly. "I think I did. Elissa, it would have been easier for you to step down, obviously. But you're not a nobody. You're still the hero of the Blight, and that's managed to overcome even their short attention span. They trust and respect you. We may have to come up with a few empty gestures to quiet some of the louder grumblers, but if it were too easy, it wouldn't be us, now would it?" He slipped an arm around her waist to draw her closer. "I hate seeing you feel so out of place. You're too good to be catering to this mob."
She sighed, relief flooding through her so potently he could feel the tension spill out of her shoulders. "I didn't want to make this harder for you than I already have."
He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Love, I've been breaking Ferelden traditions since I made my bid at the Landsmeet. I wouldn't have survived otherwise. Short of causing an uprising, I've learned not to care overly much. What's one more?"
She gave him a more genuine smile this time as she stepped back. "You're really okay with this?"
"If I don't stir up trouble every so often, they start to worry. You're actually doing me a favor." He smiled back, toying with her fingers. "You being Daniel's mother actually strengthens everything we're trying to do here. The fact that we're together only makes them easier to sway."
She laughed. "Alfstanna already lectured me on the advantages of being a part of legend. Benefits of being the king's mistress, I suppose."
His head jerked back up. "What did you just say?"
Elissa pulled up short, startled by the sudden flash in his eyes and unaware of what she had managed to do wrong. "Which part?"
"You really think that after all of this, I would ask you… just what do you think is going on here?"
"I… don't know?"
He suddenly felt sick with a sinking feeling that he didn't like at all, when it occurred to him that she would be willing to try to go along with that arrangement. The thought of Elissa in another woman's shadow, waiting for him to have time for her, was repulsive to him. She would never be able to live that way, even if it was what he wanted. It stung, that she thought so. "Forgetting for one moment that when I finally do get married, I fully intend to keep my vows, do you think I don't know what that would do to you?"
"Oh." She was struggling to keep her voice even; he could hear the quiver in it regardless. "I just thought… if this was the only way… "
"So you can leave me again once you figure out that you hate me for it?" He shoved a hand through his hair and leaned on the railing, looking out at the ocean. "No, thank you. I'm not experiencing that twice in one lifetime."
"So where does that leave us?" she asked quietly from behind him.
She still had it lodged somewhere in that infuriatingly mind that he didn't think she wasn't good enough to serve as his queen. Elissa Cousland, hero of the Blight, Commander of the Grey, who had yet to meet her equal in intelligence except maybe Alfstanna. Beautiful and brave and everything he could have thought to ask for in a wife. And she thought he didn't see that? He dropped his head, the next words lost on the wind and the waves. "Andraste's mercy, what did I do to you?"
"What?"
"Nothing." He took in a deep breath. "I was just thinking, you don't have much reason at all to believe anything I tell you, do you?"
She kept her eyes lowered, idly scratching at the salt that had formed on the stone. "For what it's worth, you never promised me anything."
"Yes I did. I promised I would never hurt you." She looked away, biting her lip, and he knew he had hit the mark. He reached up and plucked a rose near the top of the vine before lifting her chin with his fingertips to find her eyes. "But," he said quietly, offering the rose to her, "I'd like nothing more than a second chance to keep that promise, if you'll let me."
Hesitantly, watching him the whole time, she took it.
"C'mon." He took her hand to lead her back to the castle and the privacy of his own chamber. "I think it's time you and I had a little talk."
