Those destined for Orzammar leave before dawn the next morning. Arya sleeps poorly that night, but even so she drags herself out of the bed to see them off. She is finding that waking early is easier and easier, although she is sure that after spending the winter in the palace that it would be difficult to fall into the rhythm of traveling once more. The others, save Eldris and Anders, seem to be mildly disgruntled that their stay in the palace is over. Arya is sympathetic, although part of her wishes she could see Orzammar.
Eldris pulls her aside just before they leave, with quizzical looks from the others. He merely rolls his eyes at them as he drags her out of earshot.
"Something important you want to tell me?" she asks, a wry and amused look on her face, ears twitching playfully. Eldris shrugs.
"I visited the alienage yesterday. I met a woman named Shianni. It looks like they need help. I thought I should let you know, in case you wanted to try and help. Tell her you know me, if you do," he says. Arya blinks at him, surprised. She hadn't expected Eldris to care about the city elves. From what she knew, most Dalish turned their noses up at their brethren that lived behind city walls.
"Thank you for telling me, Eldris. I'll do what I can to help them," she promises. The smile he gives her is gentle and soft, completely at odds with her initial impressions of him.
"I knew you would, lethallan. I'll see you in the spring," he tells her, wrapping her in a hug before letting go and stepping away, bounding back over to the others. After a few moments to make sure all the gear is secure, and that everybody has everything, the party is gone.
The palace feels empty without them, and Arya can feel her mood from the day before returning. Where are you, Lanaste? Why did you leave me alone? she thinks, an ache in her chest.
Most of those who were left behind had opted to stay in the bed and sleep. As it was, Leliana and Wynne were the only other two that were there, and they seemed as though they were ready to fall back asleep at any moment.
Arya excuses herself to her empty bedroom. Since coming to Thedas, it has felt like there was always something to do, or a conversation to be had, or something to explain. She hadn't felt truly alone since she arrived, not with Brett and Eliza and Cailan always within reach. But Cailan is in his chambers, having given her a night of privacy with Lysander, and she doesn't know where Brett and Eliza are now.
Her eyes rove across the room, searching for something to do, and they land on her laptop. It makes her think of Ella, and with a twisting feeling in her stomach she realizes she hasn't spoken to her best friend in weeks, if not months. She wonders if Ella would even recognize her.
She decides to find out.
It takes three back and forth calls before they can actually speak. The first time Arya called, Ella hadn't answered. Arya had stayed on the bed, curled up on her side facing her computer, until she was nearly asleep. Ella had called back, and Arya had only rolled over and burrowed into the covers, until she shot upright with the realization of what that sound had been. Luckily, Ella had answered when Arya called.
"Hey! Holy shit, what the fuck happened? Thedas plastic surgery?" Ella asks, taking in the changes, an eyebrow quirked up.
Arya finds that she doesn't remember what she had looked like before. The changes wrought by unlocking her memories were subtle, but her face was undoubtedly just different enough to give Ella pause. And then, of course, there were the ears. At least her face was lacking vallaslin.
"Hah, no. It's…a long ass story," Arya answers, sounding exhausted. She's afraid that Ella would think her crazy, not that the girl probably didn't already think she was crazy. She doesn't know if Ella ever truly believed her. She knows she probably wouldn't, in her friend's place. Thedas wasn't real, after all. That was absurd. And maybe it wasn't real. Maybe none of this was, but if it was a dream it was one she couldn't wake up from and it was damned realistic to boot.
"I'll bet. It's been forever since we've spoken!" Ella tells her, faintly admonishing. Arya gives her a sheepishly apologetic look.
"Sorry, El. There's been a lot going on," she apologizes. If she were honest with herself, for all that she claimed to miss her home, she had forgotten about calling Ella. She feels like there is a gulf between them that she can't cross, not anymore.
"There must have been, since you couldn't even call me on your birthday. And that was over a month ago!" Ella says, hurt leaking into her tone.
"Whoa, wait, hold up. Birthday?" Arya asks, checking the date and time. The time zone had seemed to adjust, but it still followed Earth's calendar. Her birthday had indeed passed her by, a month and a half ago.
She was eighteen. She had turned eighteen and instead of the birthday bash she had been excited for once upon a time, she hadn't even noticed.
She knew, then, in that moment, that she would never go home. Even if Flemeth could send her back across time and space, could put her back to where she had been or where she was supposed to be, Arya wouldn't let her. She feels an ancient stirring in her mind, faintly pleased, that says we belong here.
"Yeah, birthday! You could at least tell me what the hell was going on! You know, I thought that I hadn't lost my best friend after all, when you called me. But it looks like I did anyway," Ella says, angry and sad mixed together in a way that makes Arya's heart hurt.
"I'm sorry, Ella, I really am. We've been traveling, and I found out why I'm here and how I got here, and this is bigger than just me," she says, but she will not beg Ella's forgiveness if it comes down to that.
"You know what? It's fine. I made peace with it," Ella says, something final in her voice. It doesn't hurt as much as Arya had thought it might.
"We can still talk some, if you like. I'm going to be stuck at the palace all damn winter, so there'll be time to catch up. And if you don't want to do it over a video call, we can text," Arya offers. It's the only olive branch she has that she can extend.
"I…Okay. We'll do that. But I've gotta go for now," Ella says, disconnecting the call before Arya can say goodbye.
It leaves her feeling frustrated, although she knows she should have expected this. She was the one who had forgotten Ella, after all. It only makes sense that Ella is upset.
She sends I'm sorry for everything before she shuts her computer. Now she needs something else to do. There was no point in moping around over a life that wasn't hers any longer, and she didn't feel like laying in the bed until Cailan deigned to join her. She could watch a movie, but she found that she wanted little to do with her computer now. It was just another reminder of how she had changed. No, the palace was hers for now. It was time she began to explore it.
Eldris feels eyes on his back until they clear the city gates. He can finally breathe, even though there's still on the roads. It isn't the true freedom he desires, but it's the best thing he's felt in weeks. The walls of the palace and the walls of the city had only served to make him feel claustrophobic.
He truly did want to help Shianni and the others in the alienage, but Creators if he didn't wonder how they managed to live in the stifling walls. Elvhen were meant to roam free, with nothing but the halla, their aravels, and each other. Maybe they'd had true homes, before. Before Arlathan fell, before they were driven from the Dales, before the humans had ruined everything.
It was an old anger, but it was one that Eldris fed. Sure, not all humans were bad. But he remembered those who had hunted his clan for support, and he had decided long ago that enough of them were.
He finds himself falling into step with Loghain. The surly faced general seemed the best out of any of the traveling companions to walk alongside, especially since the man seems more than fine leaving them to walk in a companionable silence until the city is well out of sight.
"Glad to be away from Denerim?" he asks, a knowing smile on his face.
"Creators, yes. I'm used to sleeping under the stars on fur pelts. I missed it," he admits. His anger had dulled, leaving sadness in his place. He still didn't forgive Duncan from dragging him from his clan- he would have died with them otherwise, and gladly at that. It hadn't been easy to let go of that anger. But there was no point in holding onto it, not when it would serve to poison him instead.
"Not many would complain about a soft bed," Loghain says, amused. He is one of the few that Eldris has met that hasn't tried to size him up or shrank back in fear of the wild savage rabbit with tattoos on his face. It was refreshing.
"Hah, you shems and your soft beds. You aren't meant to sink into your bedding," he returns, earning a chuckle from the older man.
"Lately, my back would make me inclined to agree with you," he says, glancing around at the others.
"What, don't mean to tell me you're getting too old for this," Eldris teases. Months ago, it would have taken some poking and prodding to get him to speak to any of his human traveling companions, much less tease them. It makes him think of Eden, and Theo, and home.
"I can hardly help it," Logan replies, and they lapse into silence again, an easy friendship between them.
It really was easier when Eldris wasn't making enemies out of friends.
Arya wanders through the palace until Anora finds her yet again. The Queen looks tired, but there's a faint smile on her face as she invites Arya to a private lunch in her quarters. Intrigued, Arya agrees, following Anora through the twisting corridors.
The food is already waiting on them, along with bottles of wine imported from Antiva and brought up from the cellar. Anora motions for Arya to sit down as she draws the curtains back to let the light in.
Her bedroom overlooks the back gardens. Even now, so close to winter when most things in the garden are dead, the space out there is beautiful. She wonders if Anora likes to spend time out there.
"My husband is going to be in meetings from the rest of the day, but my presence isn't needed. I thought perhaps we could use this time to get to know each other," Anora says, turning to her with a smile.
It is a smile that Arya returns. In the sunlight streaming in through the window, Arya notices how beautiful the queen looks. Her cheeks are dusted with freckles and some of her hair has fallen from her braids to frame her face. "I'd like that a lot," she says, softly, bringing her legs up in the chair until she's sitting with them crossed. After a moment spent looking out at the garden, Anora turns to join her.
"Well, that makes this easier. You know, I was almost determined to hate you. Things had been rocky between Cailan and myself, and I thought you would only serve to split is further apart. But I think you are actually the best thing that could have happened to our relationship," Anora says, taking a moment to pour the wine. It is odd, in a way, to see the Queen serving herself, and even more odd to be served by her.
"I'm glad to hear that. I was worried about you the most- you deserve to feel secure in your relationships. If you had insisted, I'd have told Cailan to never touch me again. I'm glad that things have worked out like this. And I really do look forward to getting to know you as well," Arya says. She is glad, suddenly, that she had landed in Fereldan instead of Orlais. She doesn't like the idea of Empress Celene dining with her, although Arya doubts she would have been so lucky in Orlais. She wonders if she will have to face the Empress someday, or if Anora and Cailan can keep her hidden here in the Fereldan court.
"Not many other women would say that. If the King turned his attention to them, and believe me, there are chambermaids that can claim such, they would laugh at the thought of my anger. I'm not stupid- I know the lack of an heir has turned much of the nobility against me. But I'm more than my ability to produce an heir- it was me that kept the kingdom running during Cailan's absences. It is not a good feeling to see those achievements ignored," Anora admits, picking at her food. Arya makes a sympathetic sound, reaching across the table to take her hand.
"You are much, much more than that Anora. And from what I hear, Cailan hasn't been that kind to you in bed. A little bird told me that he's never even gone down on you," Arya says, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Anora, to her credit, doesn't even blush. "When Cailan would lay with me, he would do what needed to be done to finish inside me and would leave it at that. Lysander was better, but it was clear he never planned on staying," she says. Although there is a faint smile on her face, Anora is unable to completely mask her feelings on the matter. It's clear that it's left her feeling ignored.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere unless you make me, so say the word and I'll keep my face between your thighs for hours," Arya says, squeezing her hand gently. Anora snorts, but she squeezes back.
"That's hardly necessary," she protests. At that, Arya gets out of her chair, coming around behind Anora. Her hands fall onto her shoulders, kneading gently.
Anora practically melts.
"Oh, my beautiful Queen, but it is. You need someone to treat you right, to worship you like you need to be worshipped. Perhaps we should even make Cailan watch- he doesn't know how, after all," she purrs in her ear. A shiver races down Anora's spine.
"I can certainly see the appeal, temptress," Anora breathes, food entirely forgotten.
"Come with me," Arya says, reaching around to take Anora's hand and tugging her towards the door, a playful look on her face.
"And where would we be going?" the Queen asks, rising to her feet.
"My rooms. And no, not for sex, unless you want to," Arya answers. Anora gives her a questioning look, but Arya doesn't answer as she leads the Queen down the hallway.
It only takes Arya a moment to set everything up, opening her computer and turning the volume up just loud enough. She gives silent thanks to her past self for setting up plenty of playlists as she clicks on one full of slow songs perfect to dance to.
Anora is mystified until Arya uses her magic to shove the couch out of the way.
"You want to dance?" the Queen asks, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised.
"You need someone to treat you right. That doesn't just mean sex, sweetheart," Arya answers, her voice soft, a gentle smile on her face.
Arya never knew how to dance, not well at least. But Bellanaris has hazy memories of elaborate parties that would last for months, of twirling through the crowd with Lanaste. There were whispers that even the Evanuris envied them.
It is those memories that Arya uses as she guides Anora into a dance. She wishes she were taller, but even barefoot the Queen has several inches on her. She tunes out the music, operating instinctively as she keeps her attention focused on Anora.
They dance until they slow unconsciously to a gentle sway. With the curtains closed and no fire in the fireplace, the passage of time seems strange. They could have been there for minutes, or maybe they have been there for hours.
They talk the whole time. Anora learns Arya the same way Arya learns Anora. It is light conversation, at first, about trivial things that don't matter. Gradually, it shifts into deeper conversations, where Arya learns that Anora fears she will only be remembered as the Queen who couldn't produce a Theirin heir, and Anora learns that Arya is struggling in an in between.
They do not stop until Anaba knocks on the door to bring them to supper.