Sleeping Arrangements
Chapter 28
"the theme of our relationship"
Alistair blinked his eyes open and was immediately met by the empty bottle of brandy that he had used the night before to calm his nerves and lull him into sleep. He sat up and rubbed his temples, partially regretting the decision, but was interrupted by a guard entering the room at the sound of his stirring.
"Your Majesty," the man began awkwardly. "The maids are here to help you ready yourself."
Alistair shook his head. "I don't need…" but Ellie, the round smiley woman he had long ago decided was his favorite pushed past the guard, followed by a horde of other women, and swiftly approached the king's bed. She whipped the covers off of him, causing him to instinctively gasp as he was suddenly revealed to the entire room in nothing but his smalls. Ellie didn't pause for a moment, though, as she gathered the dirty clothes he had thrown into the corner and passed them off to a young elf girl before physically pulling the king out of bed and pushing him into his private bathroom.
Buckets of hot water, which had clearly been heated repeatedly as the entirety of the castle waited for him to wake, were brought in and filled the porcelain tub. Against his will, Alistair's smalls were forcefully removed and he was shoved into the bath. He tried to speak up and argue that he could bathe himself, but the women simply chattered ceaselessly to one another as they soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed their monarch. They managed to wash parts of him he wasn't even aware existed before wrapping a soft towel around him. He did manage to convince them to allow him the right of drying himself, but as soon as the remaining water droplets left his body he was pulled back into the bedroom. The bed had been made and on it laid his fresh new clothes. Black trousers with a blue tunic and a leather doublet dyed midnight blue and fringed with silver fur. He remembered the tailor taking his measurements and describing the outfit that was to be made for him, but this was even more splendid than he had pictured at the time. He smiled and managed to summon his most kingly voice as he demanded the servants leave him alone to dress. They each bowed to him and left, Ellie promising a hearty breakfast once he was ready for it. Alistair turned back to the clothes and inhaled deeply. So this was what he was to wear on his wedding day.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Elissa sat on her bed and stared at the dress hung before her. She hadn't cared what it would look like before, allowing the tailor to decide for himself what would best suit her and the occasion, but suddenly she found herself reconsidering everything about it. Was it too frilly? Or not frilly enough? Would she trip over it? Or spill her drink on it? A knock at the door drew her out of these thoughts. "Come in," she called with a sigh, knowing who it was, but was surprised to see Alistair, happily munching on a muffin. He was dressed in blue finery and his hair had been neatly combed back. He looked handsome, but she found it hard to resist tousling his blonde locks back to their usual state. "You're not supposed to be here!" she chided him. "It's bad luck."
He crinkled his brow. "Do you remember how we met? Bad luck is sort of the theme of our relationship."
She rolled her eyes. "Did you need something, Alistair?"
He took another bite of muffin and spoke as he chewed. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't feeling nervous."
"About marrying you? Not at all. About having to look beautiful and regal and very not pregnant in front of all of Fereldan's nobility? A little."
"Don't worry about it. They'll all be mesmerized by how beautiful and regal and very not pregnant I look."
She laughed and shoved him. "And how humble… I appreciate your checking up on me but you should probably get going before my handmaidens return. I only convinced them to leave me alone while I bathed."
"They let you bathe alone?! You'll have to teach me how to do that."
She laughed and pushed him out the door. "Later." He turned around and looked back at her before she closed the door. "After we're married."
He walked slowly through the halls, finishing his muffin and trying not to overthink. He passed a group of women clearly heading for Elissa's room and amusedly shook his head. He didn't want to return to his own quarters as he knew there would be a pack waiting for him, poised to comb his hair for the thousandth time and chastise him for the crumbs on his shirt. He couldn't go towards the kitchen or ballroom because there was far too much bustle in those areas. He eventually found himself on a balcony overlooking the city.
Denerim was the epitome of Fereldan. It was energetic, independent, fierce, and practically barbaric. Alistair laughed to himself as he realized how similar the city was to the woman he was about to marry. The Chantry had been so strict and overbearing he spent most of his life accepting the fact that a loving wife would never be a part of it, and as a result he never even bothered to imagine what his dream woman would be like. But as he thought it over now, he realized even as a young man all those years ago he would have described Elissa. Someone strong and intimidating, but also compassionate. A woman who knew how to get what she wanted but also cared that the people around her were happy and healthy. She would go out of her way to help a stranger, not hesitate to take down an adversary, and make him feel like he was the most important man in Thedas. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly as the sun shone on the cragged Denerim streets. That was Elissa. And today she would become his wife.
