Dragon Age
The Rose of Highever
A/N: This chapter is beta-ed by Jinx1983. Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Thirty Six: Her Fairy Tale
If the archdemon decided to suddenly descend upon her, crushing her to her early untimely death, Samantha would die the happiest woman in the entire Thedas at this very moment.
Her fever had gone and color had slowly returned to her face, all thanks to two days of uninterrupted rest and her over-protective knight in shining armor. Catering to her every need, and barring anyone but Wynne, Leliana and Zevran to visit her, Alistair spent almost every moment with her when she was awake.
Just like he did right now.
Late morning sun peeked through the curtains. Lying in bed with her head rested on his chest, Samantha stared sleepily at the light illuminating from the edges of the thick curtains, enjoying the soothing sensation of his fingers stroking her hair rhythmically. The effect of the potion she had taken the night before had worn off, the soreness of her wound returned. Yet, she was able ignore the discomfort completely, as long as she was lying there in his arms, listening to his heartbeat. It was almost hypnotizing.
She couldn't remember when she had last felt this peaceful and rested. It was before that night at Highever, before Duncan had taken her away, before she had met Alistair.
"It's been a year..." Samantha claimed very quietly, breaking the peaceful silence.
"Hm?"
"It's been a year since we met," she clarified.
"Has it only been a year?" he asked after a brief pause. "It felt like I've known you my entire life."
She let out a faint giggle. "Well, almost. The very first time we met, I was... six, perhaps?"
He chuckled at the memory. "Right... Fancy dress, pigtails..." He grabbed a handful of her long hair and held it on the side of her head to demonstrate his point.
She playfully swatted his hand away to end the teasing, only to make him laugh. "I was a little girl," she defended her old hairstyle. "I even believed in fairy tales back then."
"Fairy tales?"
She didn't know why she would even bring it up. Never had she openly talked about it to anyone. But then, Alistair was hardly just anyone. When she was with him, her guard was all but down, she was once again just Sammy Cousland. "You know... Princes and Princesses in their castles, living happily ever after..."
"I know what fairy tales are." There was more than a hint of smile in his voice, she didn't need to look at him to know he had that teasing grin on his face. "I just didn't know you like it."
"I used to," she corrected him immediately. "Like many little girls did. I used to believe in it, not anymore."
"Why not?" His hand returned to stroking her hair.
"Because I am old enough to realize fairy tales are just what they are: fairy tales." That stirred up something inside her, rudely reminding her of the dark cloud that had been looming over her head for quite sometime, which the blissfulness of the past two days had all but almost kicked it away. She continued in a whisper, "There's no happily-ever-after in life."
His hand paused as he remained quiet for a long moment. She knew he was thinking about her words, perhaps even guessing the meaning behind them. "Maybe... Maybe not," he responded rather wistfully.
She took his hand in hers instead and laced her smaller fingers with his. The bruises and cuts on his knuckles were healing; he was honest enough to tell her those were from a certain wall-punching incident when he found out she had been taken away - a punch that was meant for Anora but landed itself on the nearby wall, all because he couldn't bring himself to hit a woman, no matter how much he hated her. Samantha brought his hand up to her lips and softly kissed the bruises. "If life were a fairy tale, there wouldn't have been a dragon threatening our country."
"Hm... I don't know. They have dragons in fairy tales, don't they?"
She had to smile at his insight. He had always been smarter and wiser than he had given himself credit for, and for that she knew he would make a good king one day, with or without her by his side. "And the prince in fairy tale could lay around all day and still have killed the dragon by the end of the story. Alas, our lives are not fairy tales, my love, and this prince has to get up to prepare for the Landsmeet."
He groaned in dismay. She could feel the puppy eyes he was giving her. Lying in bed for one more day was too tempting of an idea to simply shrug off, especially after being on the road constantly for one year. Samantha wisely avoided looking at his face, lest her resolve would be shaken.
"I should meet with Eamon as well." Giving his hand one final kiss, she sat up slowly and winced when her wound protested against the movement.
"You still need to rest." Through the thin fabric of her nightgown, she felt his fingertips brushed down her back, luring her back to his arms.
The temptation of flopping back onto the mattress was almost too strong to fight. Samantha had to forcefully remind herself of the dire consequence of losing the Landsmeet: his possible death. "I will, but the Blight is not going to wait. Nor could Eamon delay the Landsmeet for long." Regrettably, she had to leave the comfort of his embrace and the warmth of the blanket to once again face the mounting duties that awaited her.
She heard a sigh of defeat behind her and the sound of him shuffling off the comfortable bed. Shaking her head with a smile, she moved to the dressing table and picked up a hairbrush. A glance at the mirror startled her; she could have sworn she just met a ghost of herself. Dark circles that had been plaguing her forever had gone, thankfully, due to much needed rest. But her skin had turned so pale it was almost translucent. Was that ghost what Alistair had been so lovingly hugging for the past two days?
She cast a glance at the reflection of the man she adored, and watched with amusement as he was searching for his discarded shirt. She would do the same for him, she knew, but it warmed her heart no less to know that he was there for her, no matter how bloody or ghostly she looked.
"Where are my boots?" he mumbled to himself as he pulled his shirt over his head.
"Try the other side of the bed," she suggested with a soft giggle while untangling the knots in her hair with the hairbrush. "You climbed in bed from my side last night."
"I did?" he asked absently and shuffled to the other side, then claimed after he had found his boots, "Oh, I did."
She smiled fondly at his silliness. "I love you. Don't ever change."
Alistair raised his eyebrow at her through the mirror, seemingly surprised by the sudden declaration. "Are you sure you don't want me to change?" He flashed a teasing smile. "You'd have to find my boots for me every morning."
Despite the warm late morning sunlight he let in when he pulled the curtains aside, a dark cloud gathered inside her heart, bluntly reminding her of the remaining time they had left together. Once he won the Landsmeet, once the Blight was over, they would be forced to go separate ways. Two castles, two cities, along the same coastline, under the same stars.
But it was better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, was it not? Whoever said that had never gone through the pain of losing one's love.
Samantha grimaced at some unknown pain that had surfaced, and decided to divert her attention - and his - on a more productive topic. "Riordan said there are two hundred Wardens at the border. Once the civil war is over, we could bring them in to help with the Blight." She brushed her hair absently, her heart and mind was nowhere on this simple task.
"If there's time left after the Landsmeet." Alistair shook his head as he continued to get dressed. "And if by some miracle that I won."
Samantha looked at him sympathetically through the mirror. "You will," she encouraged him with such conviction as though she could see the outcome of the Landsmeet through a crystal ball. In truth, she knew they were far from being able to secure a victory. "Have you been studying?"
A guilty look flashed across his face. "I... was distracted."
"Alistair..." She turned to him and feinted a glare.
"I was worried about you! All those words in the books turned into Antivan or something. Nothing made sense!"
Putting down the hairbrush, she walked up to him and tapped the tip of his nose. "Next time, study."
"Next time, you stay out of danger and don't get hurt, so I can focus on the mountain of books," he bargained with a roll of his eyes. "I'm beginning to see why Cailan left every decision to Anora."
The mention of Cailan's name reminded her of the news she had accidentally received in the Arl of Denerim's mansion.
"What is it?"
"Hm?"
"You have that look in your eyes, what is it?" he asked again.
Samantha briefly considered how to deliver the news. "Loghain ordered his army to retreat before the darkspawn overwhelmed Cailan and the Wardens..."
Alistair scowled harshly at the information. "Why would he do that?"
She shook her head. "To wipe out the Wardens because he thought we were a ploy to bring Orlesians back to Ferelden..."
Mentioning the event at Ostagar was a sure way to sour his mood, she knew well enough, but he had to know the enemy he was facing. "But why kill Cailan?" asked Alistair after digesting the news.
That was a question she had asked herself after she had heard about the treason. "I don't know... Perhaps he knew about Cailan and Celene?" That was the only thing she could think of.
"Celene?"
"The Orlesian Empress," Samantha replied. "Leliana said they had an affair... Cailan was about to divorce Anora and marry Celene."
Warm hazel eyes widened at the revelation. "I... I don't know what to say..."
She shrugged feebly. "People grow apart. Political marriages are never meant to be happy; they are for convenience. Being happy is just a bonus..." she trailed off, wanting very much to avoid the topic before it could get to her sore spot.
Alistair frowned at that idea. "How could you marry someone you don't even love? You have to see them everyday and... sleep with them every night!"
She could either bury her head in the sand and avoid this topic like a coward, or face it head on with every bit of her courage like a Cousland. As much as it pained her, she chose to continue, "Yet, it's been done all the time throughout history, almost everywhere. Whether for the sake of uniting two houses or two countries. It's expected from some of us..."
The quiet look they exchanged told her he understood her meaning. There was a bitter taste in her mouth and a sharp twitch in her gut. She was once again reminded of their not-so distant future – no, not 'their' future, for he had his path and she had hers. She knew that day would come; deep down she had always known from the moment he first kissed her outside Redcliffe castle. Yet she had ignored it, just as she had ignored the pricking from the thorns of the rose in her hand while she was melting in his arms as they shared that kiss.
But now, it was finally time to wake up and face the future. Starting today.
The past two days had been an absolute bliss. If only she could wake up everyday to see that silly smile she loved so much. If only she could help him to locate his boots every morning.
If only she could spend the rest of her life with him.
"My love?" he quietly called out to her, saving her from the spiraling train of thought.
She looked up at him with a faint smile. He had been calling her with this endearment for the past two days. It was one of the few changes she noticed ever since she had been rescued.
He took both her hands in his and dropped his gaze down. His mouth opened to speak, yet it quickly turned into a nervous grin.
She tilted her head and tried to look into his eyes. "What is it?" she asked, very much puzzled by his sudden strange behavior. Whatever undercurrent she was feeling, she promptly suppressed it to focus on the man in front of her. He was her first priority, as he had always been. When there was no immediate answer, she gave his hands a squeeze and probed gently, "Did you finish all the cheeses in the kitchen? Or did Eamon finally find out you have worn out his rugs?"
He chuckled at that, which she knew he would; tensions drained from his face. "No, and no." He shook his head. "Thank the Maker."
She let out a soft laugh. The silliness she allowed herself to show when she was around him was only one of the many reasons she loved him so. She could be who she truly was - not the prim and proper Lady Cousland, not the dutiful and honorable Warden. However silly, childish, or even weak she was, he still loved her just the same. And for that, he would forever have her heart and soul. "For which one?" she asked lightly, continued with the jest to put his mind at ease. "That they still have cheese in the kitchen, or that Eamon has yet to find out about his rugs?"
His humorous smile turned into a loving one. "For you."
Sky blue eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden admission. However long they had left, be it months or even weeks, she would always remember this particular moment. Her smile was sweeter than any pies in Ferelden when he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. She looked up when his lips parted from her skin, only to find them pressed gently on her own. The soft lingering kiss soon turned into a passionate one as her mouth opened to his.
And she would have let it continue, knowing exactly where it would lead them, had there not been a nagging thought inside her mind. She pulled back, breaking off the kiss. He leaned forth to continue, yet her hand was faster. One finger gently pressed onto his lips to halt his advance. "No..." she said rather breathlessly. "Not until you tell me what is on your mind. Don't you dare distract me."
He took her hand and kissed it with a sly smile. "Who is distracting whom?"
She wrinkled her nose at him. Zevran's influence on her silly Alistair had been showing quite a lot these past two days, she would have to have a nice talk with her dear mentor. But that could wait. "Alistair..." She gave him a pleading look, one which she knew would melt his heart. Even though it would not be as effective in getting his attention as her more 'revealing' method, it wouldn't be as distracting either. And right now, such distraction would work against her, regardless how much either of them would want it.
"It's nothing important... really..." He let go of her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. It was his nervous habit, she had long recognized it. She remained quiet, allowing him to take his time to work it out of his system. Eventually, he continued, "Well, it is important. Very important, in fact."
Samantha looked up at him in alarm. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes. Well, as fine as it could be with the Blight hanging over our heads..."
"Is it about the Landsmeet, then?"
"What? No, no." He shook his head, then ran his hand through his hair before breathing out a heavy sigh. "It's about... us."
She froze. Everything seemed to stop around her; at least the man she loved had stopped and stared right at her, his expression was the most nervous she had ever seen on him. Her stomach began to sink. Had he finally realized the implication of his potential victory on the Landsmeet? Had Eamon talked to him about being King? Was this what she had been dreading? Was this... the end?
Sky blue eyes wide open, yet things were all but a blur as her mind raced through all possibilities. Her stomach had dropped down into a bottomless pit, the weight in her heart was unbearable. She couldn't move a single muscle, all she could do was to stare at him.
"That... doesn't sound right." Alistair frowned in mild annoyance. "I mean, it's about us, but... Let me try again." He began to pace around while she froze in the same spot. "Maker's breath, I thought it was hard enough the other night when I asked you, but now, with you standing there-"
"The other night?" She blinked, trying to bring some semblance of composure back. Maker be damned, she was a Cousland! And she would face it like a Cousland, whatever it might be, however it might hurt. With her back straightened, her shoulders squared, she braced herself for the inevitable heartache.
It was better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, she repeatedly reminded herself.
"Well, yes, that night when we got you back... I was an idiot to think it was a decent timing for that, you know, with a close brush with death and everything..."
That was a decent time to end what they had? Still, Samantha was not at all surprised; he had a knack for finding the worst timing. But still, it had always been adorable in her eyes.
Even now.
Samantha instinctively shook her head and reassured him, "You are never an idiot, my love." She winced inwardly and reminded herself that she would have to stop calling him that soon. Very soon.
He paused and grinned at her. "Oh, you say that now, one day I would do something so idiotic that you would hate me forever. I just know it."
She shook her head once more, firmly this time. "Whatever you do, I would never hate you." She tried to smile for him, but for once, she couldn't. The corners of her mouth twisted up feebly, then fell flat as she fought to keep her lips from trembling. "And I will love you until the day I die." That was the truth, he deserved to know it. If she didn't say it now, she might not have the chance to ever say it again.
Something sparked in his eyes in that instant. Was it determination that she spotted? Samantha chose not to read too much into that. Not now.
He looked straight at her, almost as if he was staring into her soul. She remained still, allowing him to examine her for as long as he needed. She had bared every single part of her for him already, why not her soul? No more than a second had passed, yet it felt like forever to her. It felt as though she was waiting for an execution, knowing her death warrant had already been signed and sealed. Much to her surprise, his eyes softened and a loving smile appeared. "And I you."
Her heart melted and shattered simultaneously at his sincere response. There was a painful lump in her throat; she swallowed hard to push it away, but it stubbornly remained. He was not making it easier for her, or for both of them.
Alistair stepped close to her once more. She had to fight the urge to back up, to keep a safe distance from him, or perhaps even to turn and run away, not giving him a chance to deliver the fatal blow. But she was a Cousland, and she would face it as one. Samantha willed herself to remain still as he stopped right in front of her, and cursed herself for wanting to lean onto that familiar body for strength and support she so desperately needed right now.
"Andraste's flaming sword, I never thought it could be this hard... I mean, it's just words, right? Perhaps I should write it on a piece of paper and pass it onto you instead?" There was that little grin she loved so much, yet it pained her to see it right now.
She responded quietly with a ghost of smile that never reached her eyes, "I understand and I agree."
Hazel eyes widened in shock at her decisiveness. "You... really?"
She nodded once, dropping her gaze, unable to face him without breaking into tears.
Alistair let out a heavy sigh and laughed in utter relief. "Oh! Thank the Maker!" He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, and kissed the top of her head. "Here I thought you might say no to me!"
The wound on her torso protested as she was crushed onto him. She suppressed a cry but her body tensed on its own accord. Alistair gasped and released her quickly as soon as he felt her twitch. "I'm sorry, love!"
Why did he still call her that? Her frown tightened as she fought the pain coming from both her body and her heart. Still, Samantha shook her head wordlessly to dismiss his concern. She didn't trust herself to speak or even to look at him, lest she would break down and cry.
He put his hand on the side of her cheek, then showered her with a few soft kisses, soothing the pain away just as effectively as it had always been in the past. She wanted to push him away - she knew she should, but she couldn't find the strength to resist him, not even now.
"You know what a clumsy idiot I could be," he whispered jokingly as he rested his forehead against hers. "Are you sure you want to marry me?"
Once again, she froze. But this time, it was for a different reason.
Alistair pulled back and looked at her when there was no answer. "... Sammy?"
Samantha could only stare at blankly him with her eyes as wide as it could be. "... M-marry...?" She blinked hard a few times, welled up tears fell but she was passed caring.
He was alarmed to see the drops of tears falling. Brushing them gently off her cheeks, he donned his best pup face and gave a feeble shrug. "Well... I don't know what else to call it, but... you know... Spending the rest of our lives together, starting with a little ceremony that involves swearing in front of the Maker that I am forever yours as you are mine-"
Still shocked beyond belief by the revelation, Samantha struggled to find her wit. "M-marry?" she repeated tentatively, as though she was learning a new word in Orlesian. "... I thought you wanted to..."
He looked at her dubiously. "To what?"
She shook her head and signed. "... To end this." Now it sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud.
"To end wha-" His eyes widened in shock as he realized what she meant. "What? Why would I do that? Why would you even think that I would do that?" A harsh frown appeared on his face. She realized she had deeply offended him by her words, and hurt him with her distrust.
Hanging her head in shame, she offered her reason, however weak it might sound right now, "Because you are going to be king-"
"And? Kings can't get married?" he cut her off, his tone sharpened a notch.
"Kings can't get married to just anyone-"
He impatiently cut her off once more, "And you are not just 'anyone'. Maker's breath! Hello! You are Teyrn Bryce's daughter. If the Teyrn's daughter isn't good enough to be Queen, then no one is!"
Samantha stared at him as though that thought had never crossed her mind. In truth, it never had, until now.
With both his voice and his expression softened considerably, he continued, "Even if you weren't a Cousland, I would never marry anyone but you. But since you are the Lady Cousland herself, I guess we would make the perfect match."
"Even if you lost at the Landsmeet, I would still spend the rest of my life with you," she vowed gently.
"And I would remind you of that if you ever tried to run away from me," he said with a teasing smile.
"Never."
"Good." He nodded in satisfaction, hazel eyes twinkled in delight. "When Cailan married Anora, everyone saw them as a match made in the Golden City. Wait till they see us. We are a much better team than those two."
She couldn't help but smile sweetly at that. "That we are."
"I am prettier than Cailan, and you are smarter than Anora." He flashed a teasing grin. "Or is it the other way around?"
"You are both smarter and prettier than Cailan..." she trailed off, suppressing a giggle, then continued, "And Anora."
"You think so?" He laughed. "I see you do love me. So, let me get this straight and ask you one last time: Will you marry me?" He looked straight at her expectantly, pup face surfaced full force, melting the heart that was broken just a brief moment ago.
Heat crept up on her cheeks. Her smile broadened and became sweeter than ever. "Yes."
He let out a dramatic sigh of relief in jest then grinned at her. "Well, you missed your last chance to reject me."
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she raised an eyebrow at him. "And missed the chance to marry a Prince? Perish the thought."
"Then you are stuck with me for life. I do feel sorry for you." He laughed and pulled her into his arms once again, gently this time. "Hm... Would you still want me if my father weren't Maric?"
She leaned back barely enough to give him a look - the same look she always gave him for his silly antics. "Would you still want me if my father weren't Bryce Cousland?"
His brows knitted as he tilted his head to one side, seemingly in deep thoughts to consider her question, earning him a smack on his chest. "Ow! I jest!" he whined then laughed.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "You are stuck with me for life."
"And I wouldn't want it any other way," he said with sudden sincerity. "I am the luckiest man alive." He leaned in to kiss her but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
He groaned in annoyance. "Hold that thought," he whispered to her before marching to the door to fling it open.
"Your Highness. I'm sorry to interrupt, but the Arl would like to see you and Lady Cousland."
"Tell the Arl that Lady Cousland is still resting, we'll talk to him later this evening." With that, Alistair closed door and locked it.
Samantha watched as he walked back to her. "We have to tell Eamon..."
"Yes, we do," he agreed absently before reaching out to tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingered around her cheek. He leaned in once more and brushed his lips teasingly on hers, then whispered, "Where were we?"
Her breath became shallow in response, her knees weak. It took every bit of her self control not to dart forward to demand a kiss. "But Eamon..." she whispered back breathlessly.
"... Would have to wait." He sealed his lips with hers before she could say another word, and continued where they had left off. Soft lingering kiss once again quickly turned into a passionate one. But this time, none of them stopped.