In writing My Hope, I had a few extra memory scenes that never made the final cut. I didn't want to bog down the plot more by cutting back, or they expanded upon something I'd already touched on and seemed superfluous. But then I thought, eh why not share them.
They're not important to the overall story, but here are a few more scenes with Lana, Cullen, and Alistair.
9:34 Denerim
"Lady Amell!"
Her rouged cheeks lifted in a forced smile, as Lana turned to find a familiar Bann and her husband rounding upon her from across the full to bursting hall. The name slipped past her grasp, though she suspected it was someone from the south. The Bann, an older lady with a ruddy complexion to match her exuberance, grabbed onto Lana's empty hand and pumped it up and down three times.
"I never imagined the Hero of Ferelden would grace us."
"Yes," Lana tried to remove her hand, but the woman had the vice-like grip of a constrictor. She'd need a plate of butter to loosen it free. "The Hero of Ferelden wasn't thinking she would either."
"Ha!" the Bann chuckled, still pumping her hand as if she expected water to dribble out of Lana's mouth. It was going to be a long night. Why did she even agree to this?
Nearly all of Ferelden's gentry was in attendance for the celebration, dressed in their own ruffled finery as they circled around each other trying to peck their lessers into place. It was going about how she suspected it would. Few paid much attention to the short woman slipping around the back and making eye contact with no one, not until the nameless Bann shouted hers across every marbled floor. A cacophony of curious onlookers flocked towards the unmistakable Hero of Ferelden who at least had her hand returned to her.
Voices perked up, mumblings curious about what would bring the reclusive Savior of the Blight out of her fortress. She'd damn near skipped almost every holiday the court held for the past year.
No, year and a half.
My stars.
Rather bold of an Arlessa to do such a thing.
But then again, she did have special recompense from his majesty, wherever in the blighted void he got off to.
Lana smiled and bobbed her head through it all, not hearing a lick of it. A few of her wardens had offered to come as backup but at the time she thought it silly. She was attending a party at the palace in Denerim, not storming a broodmother's lair. In retrospect, the broodmothers were less treacherous.
"My Lady," a voice oozed and she recognized this one, regretfully. It was the wife of Bann Loren, a pinched woman who reminded her of a belligerent and vengeful goose. She kept her grey hair short and slicked back the better to highlight her clifflike cheekbones. Rather than try to soften her icy exterior, this woman embraced it as one would a truncheon. "What an absolute pleasure to see you here in attendance. I assume you brought a gift."
"Yes," Lana smiled. Myself, and he was damn well lucky to get that much.
The goose woman clucked her beak. Swirling her drink in thoughtful repose, she eyed up Lana's attire, clucked her tongue again, then asked, "And who would be your escort for the evening," before taking a long sip.
"Uh..." Lana stumbled back as every damn noble's eye turned to her, sizing her up as they always did.
"That would be me," a supple voice broke through the crowd and everyone turned to find it.
"Arl Teagan," the goose woman was taken aback by both his appearance and interruption in her game. "She's your...date?" Tipping his head politely to the woman Lana wanted to strangle, Teagan slipped over to Lana and softly picked up her slack hand.
"I believe technically I am hers," he beamed, nary a faltered step as he raced to rescue her from the vipers. "For which I am grateful."
The Bann sniffed, unimpressed that she'd lost her fun. Waving a bony finger in the air, she directed her entourage to find some other low ranking sap to drain the life from. And people thought Lana was a blood mage; malifecarum had nothing on the blood curdling powers of nobility.
Even as the audience cleared away, Teagen kept ahold of her hands, both of them folded inside of his. "Thank you," she whispered towards his ear.
A soft smile turned up his cheek and he faced her fully, his tall stature blocking Lana off from view of the rest of the ballroom. "There is no thanks necessary."
"Do...are escorts required for this? There was nothing mentioned on the invitation," Lana panicked. Technically, it was her first real court party. Before, they were little more than drunken celebrations, everyone ripping into casks while singing about how grateful they were for surviving the blight and dancing around the archdemon's carcass. Her few attendances to court were brief and always on Warden business. She had no idea what was proper protocol and felt a foolish shame circling her legs.
Teagan rolled his crystal blue eyes, "No, they are not. I imagine the Bann and her people were hoping to unearth a piece of juicy gossip. Little is heard of the Arlessa of Amaranthine beyond her generous works, of course." A sigh broke from Lana, grateful she hadn't done anything wrong that'd reflect badly on her Arling. It was a small miracle.
That soft Guerrin smile broke across both of Teagan's cheeks. He had to bend down a bit to be heard over the rising music, "What brings the reclusive Hero of Ferelden to Denerim?"
Lana tried to not roll her eyes, "His royal pain in the ass."
"Ah," Teagan seemed to realize he was still holding her hands and he dropped them. "Business or...?"
"I have no blighted idea. He said he needed to show me something important, and I agreed to come," Lana glanced around at the spectacle that had so little to do with her life, "though I must have been out of my mind when I did. But," she turned up to smile at the Arl. "I am grateful to see you again."
"And I you," Teagan revived from his static niceness to a real kindness he only showered on those he found worthy.
"You must be keeping busy out in Redcliffe. How are things?" Lana asked, then she winced as the band struck up another song, somehow louder than before. Wrapping her arm around Teagan's, she gripped onto the top of his hand and began to pull the two of them towards the back balconies away from the crowd.
"They are improving, which is more than I can hope. I regret that I cannot be there as often as I wish."
Lana paused in her walk and twisted her head to the man, "Alistair?"
"He has specific needs that it seems only I can meet," Teagan very kindly skipped around calling the man an idiot.
"You know, you can tell him no. It's rather easy," she said, sliding her back against the glass door. The crisp night air cooled down the exposed skin of her shoulders and upper back, breaking away the impenetrable heat from the party. Teagan knotted his hands together in front of him, as if he was uncertain where they should go, and he stood as statesmen-like as possible.
"It is not so bad," Teagan, ever the diplomat, "he has a good heart."
"And a fat head," Lana tossed off. She meant it more to herself, but the Arl snickered, his head dipping lower so they could hear each other. His cheek almost glanced across her forehead, the cacophony wrapping them up in their own bubble. Waving away the rest of the world, Lana said, "Enough about the birthday boy, I'd rather hear about you."
"Me? Why, you do me too much honor, my Lady."
"Come now, Teagan. I think you can call me Lana. You more than earned that right at Redcliffe."
"When I remained shut up tight in the chantry while you risked your life to save the village," he whispered, those crisp, waterfall eyes hunting across hers.
Lana patted him on the shoulder, "And then you charged by yourself to the castle to try and save your nephew and brother. Which is very brave, no matter how you glean it."
"I," he swallowed, the flush of the hot floor climbing up his cheeks, "thank you. You are, we are lucky to have someone as noble as you for our Hero."
She tried to not roll her eyes at the sentiment. Maker knew she didn't feel noble, much less heroic. Anyone else and she would have, but there was such a sincerity to Teagan it was hard to not almost believe it. "So, Arl, that's a big promotion."
"It is indeed," he smiled.
"Have you begun the search for your Arlessa?"
Sputtering, Teagan's eyes darted out to the dance floor, then back to hers. "What do...? Why are you asking?"
Lana shrugged, "Seems to be how it goes. With power comes the," she lifted up her naked left hand and pointed at her finger, "ring."
"Ah," he bobbed his head, the gentle smile returning, "no, I have not. There is much to do to repair and revitalize Redcliffe. And that deserves my attention more than, uh... What of you?"
"What of me?" she asked, wrapping her arms across her chest. For a second Teagan's eyes followed her movement before they darted away, almost as if terrified of what they saw, or for being caught looking.
"Amaranthine, it must keep you busy."
"Beyond belief. We've finally, finally scrubbed away most of the darkspawn holes. There's still a gaping chasm but no sign of the blighted things in weeks. I'm trying to get in contact with Orzammar, hoping that they'd show enough interest in the thaig to maybe close the damn thing up." She had so much left to do having literally run out the door in the middle of passing judgement to make the caravan to Denerim. Why did she come here?
Teagan rubbed her naked shoulder in a friendly manner, drawing her out of her reverie, "Sounds exhausting."
"Very much so," Lana agreed, patting his hand. "I suppose I thought a break to Denerim would be nice, help me cool off a bit, but..." She extended a hand to the multitude of gentry who were far more exhausting than anything the darkspawn could manage, "I fear I miscalculated."
"Perhaps, if you're in town for longer, we could meet up and," he shuffled on his feet, "relax together, later."
"I'd like that," Lana smiled. To her, Teagan wasn't noble, he was far too kind, far too sweet to have anything to do with the gentry always picking and clawing at each other. Was it any wonder the people of Redcliffe adored the man? How was he not married? It was amazing he hadn't been when she first met him, but now? Someone was certain to remedy that soon enough.
Teagan nodded, excited at the prospect, then he turned towards the action out on the floor, "Would you care for something to drink? I can fetch it for us."
"Ah," she watched the servants shuffling about with trays, "you know, that's a good idea. Maker knows how long this'll take."
"Right, of course. I'll be back in a moment," the Arl smiled at her, beaming the full force of his generous gaze before slipping towards the bar.
Alone, at the back of the procession, Lana blended in as she always did. It seemed a strange thing, the dark skinned woman barely being noticed in the sea of pale but it was her speciality. Whether it was due to her lacking height, or her plain features she couldn't say; when she didn't want to be noticed, she wasn't. Sadly, that only seemed to work in social situations and not on the battlefield. Teagan vanished into the flurry of activity, only snippets of his red hair visible to her as he dodged in and out probably looking for the best wine.
"Did you see what the Hero of Ferelden is wearing?"
Lana froze at the voice drifting almost clear as a bell towards her. With only the tiniest flick of her eyes, she followed the voice to a circle of nobles.
"Cut to expose her shoulders like that, it's scandalous."
She'd not had much time after Alistair's quick request, but thought her find was a treasure. Blue wool with a thin sheath of silver silk over top all cut in a sweetheart shape for the bodice. It reminded her of a night's sky in someways, or at least the warden colors which she never got far from. As long as she didn't have to get into a fight, she shouldn't have to worry about popping out of the low cut.
"You know why she did it, to flaunt those hideous scars. Remind us all of what we owe her."
Hideous? Her fingers darted over the few jagged edges remaining across her skin, most faded to a soft tan from the years. She never thought of them much, didn't have time with work and the wardens. Were they that terrible?
"The blight was finished nearly three years ago. You'd think she could move on from that. Let it go."
"And what has she done for us lately?"
"Let Amaranthine burn, for starters."
"Don't get me started on that mess. You know the only reason the king doesn't march on the Vigil and take it back from her."
"Mm-hm," the others in the group agreed, none of them willing to voice whatever reason they all knew.
She wanted to run over there, stomp her foot, and demand they tell her just what kept Alistair from marching on warden territory. Hm? Did they think she was some filthy blood mage who had him under her spell? Or that he still bore a misplaced sense of honor to the wardens? Or was it what it always was, the assumption she was still sleeping with him to get what she wanted? Grabbing onto the door's handle, Lana twisted it down. Something cracked inside, and it wasn't until she let up she realized it'd been locked. In her rage, she'd poured enough fade energy into her hand to break it.
Blinking rapidly and glancing to see if anyone noticed, she pushed open the door and slipped out onto the empty balcony. The door breathlessly fell almost shut behind her, unable to latch because of her machinations. A summer night's sky hung above her, stars sparkling through the blacks and deep blues. Let them stew, let all the nobles sip their wine and speak ill of her. She didn't care. None of them mattered in the slightest. When she needed people to end the blight, she didn't go for the Banns or the Arls. She found dwarves, elves, anyone willing to grab a weapon and defend their home. Let the better-off guard their gilded chamber pots, the true heroes rarely had two coppers to rub together.
A chill danced through the warm air, and Lana went to massage her exposed shoulders. Her fingers lingered for a moment over the scar that hooked across her skin like a loopy x. The dragon cult, one of the assassins caught them off guard and pinned her down. He sliced twice in rapid succession across her shoulder before...before Alistair threw him off. If she hadn't have been there in Haven, hadn't put her life on the line, then they'd never have saved Arl Eamon. But does anyone in there care? Of course not. For them the blight's something in the past, rarely thought of. Certainly not screamed about in their dreams, horrified beyond thought in the darkest of times, their hands shaking as they try to stuff all the memories back into a box.
The past... Lana tipped her head back and spotted the constellation of Draconis, its tail looping towards Fort Drakon. That seemed apropos, she smiled to herself. Biting on her tongue, and closing one eye, she tried to trace the path of the constellation congruent to the moon skirting behind it. She almost had it when a woman's chuckle broke through the empty night air. Turning from the sky above her, Lana hunted around the other balconies scattered beside, above, and below her. All sat dark, save one to the east. It was far enough she couldn't overhear what was being said, but close enough she could make out the people standing on it. A lantern illuminated the silhouette of a woman, a well endowed one to be certain, with her hands planted on the railing as she gazed across the courtyard. She bore hair almost as red as Teagan's, a distinct shade that was stick pin straight. Absently, Lana tried to tug at her own spiral curls barely tamed for the night.
The woman turned from her survey to someone stepping out onto the balcony with her. Judging by the size of the shadow, it was a man, broad shouldered, tall, fitter than the average noble stuffing themselves with the cheese tray options. Perhaps a soldier or a templar who snuck away from the party. He tried to softly close the door, only to have his foot snag on the curtains. While shaking his foot like a rabid dog, the woman chuckled again. Lana knew that laugh, it was the 'I'm pretending everything you do is charming because I want to get into your breeches' chuckle. It seemed to be working on the man, because he found it even harder to disentangle himself from the illusive curtain. Lana couldn't hide her own widening cheeks at the courting dance occurring.
A solitary cry of success erupted through the night air, as the man finally defeated his villain and stepped onto the balcony and into the light. Lana's smile dropped immediately as she recognized the blonde hair, the cheeky self deprecating grin, the tight cheeks, the deep brown eyes she'd lost herself in. The strong arms that wrapped around her as they sat together at the campfire watching logs crackle and pop, betting which would go next.
No. She shouldn't be watching this. A blush erupted over her cheeks, her shame trying to drag her away, but she couldn't stop. The man, the...king slipped an arm around the woman's narrow waist and pulled her close to him. Her contagious laugh echoed through the courtyard. Lana clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound as he twisted the woman around, ran his fingers through her straight hair, and kissed her. Unaware of the audience, the pair dove into each other, Alistair having no qualms with traversing that woman's hills.
Oh Maker. Lana grabbed both her hands onto the railing, the freezing stone barely reaching her brain while she dug in tighter. Pain dropped dead into her gut, as if she'd eaten a massive burr, every sharp point of it piercing into her stomach, knotting up her guts into a bow. No, no this wasn't right. They weren't anything anymore. Certainly not...not that, not ever that again. He'd made that abundantly clear after the landsmeet. Alistair was king and he needed the proper person at his arm - not some tiny, filthy magicker covered in hideous scars. What he wanted was a woman who smelled of roses not darkspawn, whose skin was soft as petals not callused and scarred, who spoke of sweet nothings and not battle plans. It was what he deserved.
"Here's where you are," Teagan's jolly voice echoed behind her as he bumped his elbow into the door, causing it to swing open against the wall. Lana wiped at her face, trying to clean up the tears that'd already streaked away whatever makeup she'd managed. "I feared you ran off..."
"Ah," Lana threw up a false smile and turned to him, "No, it was growing stuffy in there and I needed a break." He extended one of his two wine glasses to her. She picked it out of his fingers and thought about downing it all in a quick drink, but then her stomach roiled in anger, deceit, depression. Adding any liquor to it would only cause her to turn ill. Lana was one of the unlucky ones; she couldn't drink her problems away.
As if sensing something amiss, Teagen slid closer to her. He placed his own glass on the railing and reached a hand to her when the woman giggled again, even louder than before. Lana couldn't bury the shudder in time, causing the Arl's eyes to dart in the direction of Alistair and his mystery woman wrapped up in each other. "Andraste's grace," Teagan cried loud enough to disturb the pair. It seemed unlikely they could see much less make out either Teagan or Lana shadowed upon the upper balcony, but they slipped apart, the woman sliding back inside after adjusting her dress. Alistair remained outside longer, trying to squint through the darkness before he too joined his...partner inside.
As the door closed behind the king, Teagan's voice rose, "Would it have killed him to try and, is it too much to ask for a little decorum in the face of...?" She'd never seen him so agitated before, not even as they faced a clearly lying Isolde and a castle full of walking undead. Lana's fingers laced across his arm, drawing him out of his fervor.
Blinking his eyes as if trying to remove dust, Teagan rolled down his shoulders and turned to her, "Are you...? That could not have been, um, I'm not certain what to say."
She shrugged. The burr sat in her stomach, but the fiery pain behind her eyes abated, "Neither do I. It's all complicated. Very, very complicated and..."
"We could return inside," Teagan suggested, pointing towards the flocks of judgmental gentry ready to tear her apart at a moment's notice.
Instinctively, her fingers wrapped around her shoulders, trying to shelter them from prying eyes, but Teagen interpreted it another way. "The air is chillier than one would expect this time of year." Lana didn't respond, only dug her fingers deeper into her skin as she glared through the air. "Or, was there something else that drove you out here?"
She was acting petulant. Let them talk, let them assume. This wasn't her life, they weren't her concern anymore. Lana belonged to the wardens, no one else. The life may not be simple, but at least no one cared about the state of her shoulders. Smiling, she took up Teagan's arm - both glasses of wine forgotten - and pulled him back into the ballroom. He gave into her tactics easily, almost as if he wanted to spend the night tethered to her dilapidated skirt. The man was too sweet for his own good sometimes, a fact many could take advantage of. While she could cling tight to him, giving the others something to talk about, Lana released his arm.
"I understand if you do not wish to remain for the festivities," Teagan whispered near her, his spine rigid as he watched through the hordes of people - probably looking for the nephew he spotted getting his tonsils examined.
Lana shook her head, "No, I made a promise. And, it's all right. I, it was bound to happen eventually, and I'm rather glad I didn't need to face it alone."
Smiling to match hers, Teagan grabbed up her hands and said, "Come, dance with me."
"I don't know if that's a wise idea," she tried to drag her feet, but the Arl had a pull to him beyond his straining forearms. He stopped at the outer ring of the couples twirling to their heart's content. "We never had any dances in the tower. I've only, uh, done it once or twice before and usually with disastrous results," Lana kept trying to discourage him, but he only smiled.
Placing one hand on her hip, he extended her left hand to the side. She tried to reach to place her arm on his shoulder, but could only graze it. That must be why the women all wore heels to these things. Chuckling, Teagan switched it around so her hand rested on his back and he held her shoulder. He didn't flinch from the raised skin beneath his fingers, only lightly brushed her scars without a care. "Do not worry, my lady. I can lead you for once."
"You know, you don't need to call me...whoa!"
They danced for one song, Lana struggling to keep up while Teagan gently led her through the steps. He maintained a conversation even as she stared daggers at her toes, the Arl asking about the wardens and the small minutiae of her life. By the second song, she thought she was getting the hang of it and risked looking up into his beaming face - only to trod all over his toes thrice. He didn't even grimace at her stumble, only shuffled his feet out of her deadly step.
"Sorry, sorry," she muttered, racing to catch up.
"It's all right, you're rather light," he whispered, bending low to her ear. "Now, you were saying something about a yellow deer."
"Maker, the locals were convinced it was a golden hind of all things. I knew it couldn't be that, but something told me it was worth investigating..."
They made it through another song, Lana finally feeling gleeful enough to risk a twirl here or there as the Arl obliged her. She was beginning to understand what made this dancing stuff fun when the music broke. "You're far better at that than you give yourself credit for, my lady," Teagan said as they stepped off the dance floor.
"Beginner's luck, I assure you," Lana smiled, for the first time feeling lighter for having attended this party. That was Teagan's power, somehow he made even the darkest night seem survivable.
The cacophony of small talk rose and Teagan bent low, drawing her eyes to him, "We shall have to see if it holds up."
"Lanny! You made it!" the king's voice boomed over the crowd, the music, the stamp of feet - almost as if they all broke just for him. She rose straight, trying to jam all her bubbling emotions deeper into her stomach as Alistair crossed the floor towards her. At least he took the time to dress himself in the favored finery of the day. Or, someone did anyway.
"I was worried the message wouldn't get to you in time, or you'd be in the deeproads, or off on some grand adventure in..." His babble fell away as he turned to his uncle rising away from her. "Teagan."
"An adventure in Teagan?" Lana interrupted. She couldn't miss the spark of anger between them, but she had no idea why. Knowing Alistair he probably did something particularly idiotic to cause it.
"What?" Alistair blinked. "No, no, uh, what was I saying?"
"I have no idea, your majesty," Lana curtsied deep which earned her a scowl from Alistair at first, then she felt his eyes darting down her plunging neckline. Maker, damn it. She didn't mean to do that. A blush charred against her cheeks, embarrassment and a host of conflicting pain burning behind it. The king rebounded quickly at least, coughing in the back of his throat and making a fool of himself as he turned back around away from her.
He waved at a person in the crowd, then said to Lana, "There's someone you have to meet."
This must be whatever reason she simply had to attend. At least they could get it out of the way early. After trying to yank up her bodice without drawing any attention to it, Lana looked up and her heart dropped into her stomach. The red haired woman parted through the crowd. She barely breathed inside an emerald dress revealing her own cream colored shoulders, back, and strategic cuts into the bodice around her hips - nary a scar in sight against that porcelain skin. With a sweetheart face to match her statuesque proportions, she was exactly the kind of woman one would expect to be on a king's arm. Lana dug both of her fingers into her palms, squeezing tight so she didn't scream aloud.
Unaware of anything amiss, Alistair almost placed a hand on the woman's arm before he realized what he was doing then yanked it back to ruffle his hair. "Lanny, this is Amada. She's our new...what do they call it?"
Amada beamed at the man she'd been snogging only a half hour earlier, then in a polished voice she said, "Arcane advisor."
Rage struck the back of Lana's head, its tendrils digging through her clenched jaw and into her burning eyes as they turned to Alistair who smiled awe-shucks and glanced down at his shoes, "Right, fancy titles aren't much of my forte."
"You have other skills," Amada purred and Lana couldn't bury the snarl along her lips. On a silver, the woman turned back to her and smiled, "I was hoping to have a chance to meet up with you again, Solona. It's been too long since the tower."
Lana blinked, thrown off by the familiarity in her tone. She didn't know this woman, couldn't place her face, but, but she must have bumped into her as an apprentice, if she was a- was a...
Gripping his hands around the shoulders of his newest plaything, Alistair beamed, "Amada's been wanting to catch up with you. All kinds of wild mage things I don't understand."
"Damn you," Lana hissed through her nose, the curse barely evident through the crush of people resuming the festivities. Amada probably didn't even hear it, but Alistair's grin faltered and he turned his head to the side like a dog trying to understand a confusing command. Lana could let it go, walk out of there without saying a word, be the bigger person. She unclenched her fist and spotted a small trickle of blood dashed against her palm.
Snapping her head up, the tiny mage roared into Alistair's face, "You dare to invite me here, to drag me from my work, from the wardens, from doing what I was created for like- As if I'm some puppet, a little dog that'll come calling whenever you want? And why? All to entertain and impress your..." the tens of denigrating terms died on her lips as her wrathful gaze glanced once over the newest mistress. Whipping back, Lana jabbed a finger into Alistair's face, "Never again."
Before he had a chance to respond, she gathered up her skirts and stomped away, her gait as elongated as it could be due to her short legs. She wasn't going to cry, no, and she wasn't going to run bawling out of the party while all of Ferelden's gentry watched. But she couldn't stay, not to play as a dancing bauble to entertain his mistress.
"Lanny?" she heard his confused voice stumble out of him, before he turned and tried to race after her. "Lanny, wait! That wasn't what... I don't know what you think, but..."
What she thought? There was no doubt about what she thought. A mage, a fucking mage. Out of every Maker damn person in thedas, he had to take a mage to his bed. She made it to the foyer when the tears began to tremble, water threatening to rain down her cheeks. Biting into her tongue to stop the flow, she broke into a run down the stairs. It didn't matter who saw her, didn't matter what anyone said behind her back, she had to get away from him, away from all of it. Too bad the bastard kept up on her heels begging her to stop. She thought she heard his mage crying in the distance for him to stop, but the mistress couldn't keep up with either of them, her own heels hobbling her.
"My la-" was as far as the footman got before Lana rushed through the door, yanking it open herself.
He couldn't have her, couldn't keep her as his while being king. She understood, convinced herself she understood because they'd look down on a mage being so close to power. Might even call her a blood mage. Well, what did it fucking matter? The gentry already bandied about malifecarium in the same breath as Amell, and the bastard keeps his own red headed mage in his stable to mount whenever...
"Lanny, stop!" a hand landed on her shoulders, and she spun away from it, reviled both that he touched her and that he had to suffer touching her. "It's, I don't know what's got you upset. Okay. I'm lost here."
"What's got me upset? What do you blighted think has me...?" her eyes whipped away from him to the woman standing eclipsed in the doorway at the top of the stairs. Snarling, Lana burst a wall of ice across it, sealing the woman off from them. If she's such a powerful enchanter, let's see her break through that.
Alistair watched, his lips pursed but he didn't break off her spell. He only whispered, "Not a fan I take it."
Yanking back on her grip to the veil, she sneered up at him, then resumed her march away from the palace. In her state, she'd walk the entire two week trek back to Amaranthine in her revealing dress and tight shoes, her feet bloodied and broken, her shoulders scratched and bitten from the march.
"What's going on?" Alistair continued hounding her, refusing to give up. She could shove him off, knock him unconscious, or even encase his feet in ice. Let his little pet thaw him out, no doubt she was in the middle of that right now. A dangerous exhaustion trembled through her and Lana's foot skidded against the cobblestones. While she didn't fall, it was enough to throw her off balance, her resolve crumbling with it.
Dropping her skirts, she ran her nail dug palms down her stomach, trying to calm the rage, "You brought me here because of the whims of your...of her...the arcane advisor," Lana spat out, unable to say the word.
"What?" Alistair turned back to the ice wall that had barely melted, "No. I, that wasn't it at all. She saw you here and mentioned knowing you, so I thought that..." He had to know she knew what the woman was to him, even he couldn't be that dumb. But still, Alistair kept playing the fool, acting as if a random mage wanting to meet the Hero of Ferelden was completely expected.
Lana yearned to call him on it, to throw every self hating curse she felt back at him for what he did to her. But there was no point. It was over, done. Accept that you'll never be enough, Lana. It's what the Maker always expected out of you.
Through her tears, she asked, "Then why?"
"Well, I didn't want to do it in front of an audience, though you made sure there isn't one, and..." his blather paused at her glare. "It's Morrigan."
Lana snapped her head up at him, her anguish stemmed. "What about her?"
"Seems someone's spotted her recently, and I thought, given the fact you two got on for some reason, you'd want to find her. Talk to her," Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at the stars, "see if she's got any two year olds with her."
"I..." She was a fool. He didn't care if she found out about his mistress, didn't want to dangle it in her face. Only needed her to investigate Morrigan and, and the problem she forced him to create. Damn her weak heart. "I'll look into it."
"Lanny," Alistair turned back to the melting ice wall where a host of guests were almost visible behind the solid water, "is there something wrong?"
"No," In the crisp summer night, she closed off her heart to him as she should have done years ago. "Nothing wrong at all. I will speak with you in the morning about the witch problem." Lana wiped the snot off her nose, then waved her fingers against the ice wall. It splattered apart instantly, leaving an entire mess of people wiggling fire and torches at nothing. "I am tired, and it's been a long enough night."
"Lanny..." he tried to grab onto her shoulders, but she ducked away, sliding further from him.
"Good night, Alistair," Lana picked up her skirts and began the slow climb down the second staircase. Behind her she heard the others race to rescue their king from the mad mage. "Oh," she paused before the horde reached him to add, "and happy birthday."