Dragon Age
The Rose of Highever
A/N: Big thanks to RandomWittering and Jinx1983 for beta-ing this chapter. My deepest thanks to all of you for reading and adding this little story to your favorite/alert list. And for the anonymous reviewer, whoever you are, I want to thank you for being so kind to me. To know that there are readers out there, it's the best reward I'd ever ask for.
"Courtesy is a lady's armor" is from George R.R. Martin's "A Game of Thrones". You've seen some references from "A Song of Ice and Fire" before in my story. And there will be more to come, because I absolutely love that series.
The chapter title may sound familiar, that's because I'm reusing the title of my older story.
Chapter Thirty Eight: Flawed but Perfect
Putting down the hair brush after running it through her golden hair one last time, Samantha glanced at the image inside the mirror. Even with a bit of color returning to her face, her skin was still quite pale, making those sky blue eyes even more prominent than usual. It had only been three days since her rescue, and truth be told, she knew she was in no condition to face another enemy. But this particular one, she had to meet.
Anora had been requesting a meeting with her, while Alistair had been rejecting it every time it was brought up by Eamon. Samantha understood Alistair's anger towards the Queen as well as his wariness, for she shared the very same sentiment with her beloved. But with the Blight looming and the country being at the blink of a civil war, she had to set aside her personal feelings for the greater good, such was her duty as a Warden and as a Cousland.
Besides, why avoid the inevitable? She knew what Anora wanted from her: her support. Zevran had suggested that she should form a false alliance with the Queen, only to betray her at the Landsmeet. An eye for an eye, her dear mentor had said. To her surprise, even Alistair had been a bit too enthusiastic about that idea. In truth, part of her wanted to carry out Zevran's plan. Whatever it would take to keep Alistair alive by winning him the throne, Samantha would be willing to do it.
But what would her father think if she pulled such a trick?
Samantha shook her head, slightly ashamed. She had to have enough faith in Alistair, enough to believe that he could win without resorting to trickery. After all, without a clean victory against Anora, Alistair would not get the proper respect and support from the nobles, nor would he be able to rule for long.
She let out a heavy sigh and shut her eyes for a brief moment to compose herself. While the Landsmeet was indeed just around the corner, she had one more battle to fight before that. And she was now preparing for it. Although this time, neither her armor nor her weapons were needed.
She reopened her eyes to examine the image inside the mirror. Golden hair had been brushed until it shone. Long silk dress covered the bandage on her torso, and hid the bruises and cuts on her body. Her gaze landed on the reflection of her mother's locket as well as her father's ring hanging on a delicate silver chain around her neck. The necklace was the only accessory she had, and the only one she needed, for it reminded her constantly of who she had been, who she was.
She was the Lady Cousland, last of her line.
Fine brows knotted tightly at that last thought. It was certainly not the time to dwell on that particular subject. Right now, she had to focus on the upcoming battle. Even though it would not be a physical one, it would be just as important as any fights she had faced so far, if not more so. Thankfully, Lady Samantha Cousland had been trained most of her life to prepare for such occasions where her poise would be her armor, her wits would be her blade.
Her mother would be proud of her.
Smoothing invisible wrinkles from the front of her dress, Samantha tossed one last look at the image inside the mirror before heading out of her guestroom to meet with the Queen of Ferelden.
Well, queen for now.
"Hello Samantha," Anora greeted with a polite nod. "It is good that you came to speak with me."
The Queen's golden hair was braided in an impeccable bun. Her sharp blue eyes landed on Samantha's softer ones. There was even a slight smile, although it was merely for courtesy without a hint of warmth.
Instead of a curtsy for the Queen, Samantha returned a nod of her own. Anora no doubt had heard about her engagement to Alistair, after all gossip spread faster than wild fire. The ever so shrewd Queen had to know that the younger woman would be replacing her if she lost the Landsmeet, while Samantha was not about to forget how Anora's lie had led to her capture. Yet, neither showed a hint of resentment. Such were the results from the training both had received since they were but little girls.
How they felt inside, however, was another story.
With her back perfectly straight, her hands folded delicately on her lap, Samantha sat in a comfortable armchair across from the Queen. A small table separated the two blonde women, with refreshments and two cups of hot tea waiting for both ladies to enjoy. But neither showed interest in any of it.
"First, let me offer you my condolences. Eleanor in particular was dear to me, and what Howe did... was unforgivable. How fitting he died at your hands."
Samantha felt the jab but hid a wince. Anora's words might be kind, but the meaning behind them was not lost on her. Anora was glad to be rid of Howe, a possible thorn in her side, and Samantha had done the dirty job for her. Still, she was able to hold her Lady Cousland mask in place and returned the courtesy. "Thank you. My condolences to you as well. I am sorry for your loss. Cailan was a fine king."
The two women shared a glance, both knew the statement was anything but the truth. It was a game both had learned to played so well. Courtesy was a lady's armor, or so Samantha had been taught. Her custom leather armor would protect her in battles, but here in this room, it would be as useful as a silk dress on a battle field.
"It was more than my loss, it was our country's as well. But I thank you all the same," Anora replied on cue, then hesitated for a brief moment before she continued, "I am hoping that, despite our unfortunate beginning, we can still work together. Will you hear me out?"
Despite a spark of fire that ignited inside her belly, Samantha kept her tone as calm as ever. Her words, however, had a slight edge to it. "I am here, am I not?"
"Indeed. And I thank the Maker that you are out of Fort Drakon."
And I should thank you for sending me there, she thought. But what she said without missing a beat was, "Perhaps you should thank Alistair instead."
The Queen twisted the corners of her lips subtly, almost as if to suppress a grimace. Whether it was because of her words or disdain for Alistair, Samantha did not know, nor did she care.
Never one to waste time, Anora steered the conversation straight to the point. "I will be blunt. I can see that your voice has already become a strong one. It is to you that Eamon listens, and with good reason."
Samantha was rather thankful for her forthrightness, the last thing she wanted right now was to trade pretty words and dig up hidden meanings behind them. Still, she chose to remain quiet instead of denying that claim. False modesty was not even necessary. She knew what Anora wanted from her, but she would let all the cards be laid out on the table first.
"We will need to work together, and quickly. My father has gone mad. I didn't believe it at first, but he is gripped by paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense. He saw me as a threat, yet even now I'm certain he will be telling the nobles you are dangerous murderers that have kidnapped and mind-controlled me. He may even believe it."
Beside the occasional blinks and the subtle raise and fall of her chest, Samantha remained as still as a statue while she witnessed Anora laying ground work to once again lure her into doing the dirty work.
Anora continued with the momentum, "You have only just arrived in the city, so perhaps you are unaware of some... recent events. Denerim has been in turmoil since Ostagar. Many people here are angry or grieving. Strangely, the unrest is worst in the alienage. Few elves accompanied the army. They should have little reason to be upset. Which means that Howe and my father must have given them reason. I don't know what is happening there, but I am certain my father has his hands in it. You need that evidence for the Landsmeet."
Samantha was barely able to contain a snort. While it might be evidence against Loghain, who would be the real beneficiary?
"My father must be stopped, but once that is done Ferelden will need a ruler. I would welcome your support for my throne."
So there it was, plain as day. Anora knew about her relationship with Alistair, yet she still tried to seek an alliance. An eyebrow arched slightly on Samantha's otherwise passive face. "Are you proposing an alliance between us?"
Anora nodded firmly. "That is exactly what I am proposing. When the time comes, you support my bid in the Landsmeet to remain on the throne."
Samantha almost laughed at that. While she expected Anora's last ditch effort to seek her as an ally in her own campaign, she never thought the Queen would be so direct. Still, Samantha maintained her poise. There was just a tiny hint of amusement playing on her lips. "You are asking me to betray Alistair?"
"It's not a betrayal," said Anora indignantly.
"Is it not?" asked Samantha.
"It's for the good of the country," Anora responded with such conviction that Samantha would have liked to believe her, if she didn't know better. "Alistair seems like a kind, well-meaning man, and biddable enough. These are admirable qualities, if not kingly ones. He also seems to be a fine Grey Warden – which is exactly why he should remain one, and serve the kingdom by defeating the darkspawn."
Anyone who survived the Joining could become a Grey Warden, but only one man could be the rightful king. "Alistair would serve the kingdom better as a good king than a Warden," said Samantha.
Anora raised one eyebrow. "There are some who would follow Alistair out of respect for his Theirin blood. The others would see this as Eamon grabbing for power. Who else do you think Alistair would turn to for help?" The two women shared a look. Both of them knew the answer. "Eventually the nobility would return to the old days of constant warring with each other. Alistair's weakness would destroy everything Maric built."
"Not if Alistair learned how to rule," Samantha countered ever so calmly.
"Cailan was groomed to be Maric's successor, but look how he turned out when it was his turn to sit on the throne." The loving tone of a widow speaking of her late husband was all but gone. "For years I have ruled this kingdom as Cailan's Queen. As much as they loved Cailan, all of the Bannorn knew this to be so."
"Alistair is not Cailan." There, she said it, loud and clear. Perhaps it was as much for herself as it was for Anora.
A mild frown appeared on Anora's face. "Perhaps not. I simply believe that I am what this country needs. I will fight for what I believe. Would Alistair do the same?"
"He is already doing so, every single day. And he will continue to do so, not just to fight for what he believes, but what is right." A smile played on Samantha's lips, one of sheer pride.
The Queen studied the young woman. "Maric's boys are charming, aren't they?" she asked with a knowing smile. "And happiest when they have a woman to dote upon. The way he behaved when you were captured, and the way you speak of him. Is that why you support him?"
"Would you have supported Cailan if he were in Alistair's position?"
Anora's lips parted, but no words came out until she composed herself. "No. Because Cailan would not be the right choice for the country."
"But you would be," Samantha filled in the blank for her.
"I am the right choice."
"Alistair is not Cailan," Samantha repeated once more. "While Cailan might not have been the best choice for a King, I believe Alistair is."
Anora's eyes narrowed a fraction. "You think this is what he actually wants? To be the King?"
"I know so," said Samantha firmly.
Sapphire blue eyes bore onto sky blue ones. Samantha held the Queen's gaze steadily. "Maybe it is," Anora conceded. "If so, then he has changed."
"We have all changed after we lost those we loved. For better or worse," Samantha replied, wistful.
The two blonde women shared yet another glance. But this time, the tension was replaced by mutual understanding. Peaceful silence settled in between the two ladies, both so much alike, yet very much different.
"Just how do you know so much about him?" Samantha asked with genuine curiosity.
"Cailan knew of Alistair," said Anora. Samantha thought back one year ago at Ostagar, when she had caught a glimpse of the late King in golden armor watching the two youngest Wardens from afar, before he'd retreated into his tent. "It was Arl Eamon that kept Alistair out of the courts, as Maric had desired."
Just how Maric could abandon his own son, Samantha would never understand. Bastard or not, Alistair was still of his blood. Besides, Maric would certainly not be the first King who had a bastard child. Still, fate had a mind of its own. However hard Eamon had tried to keep Alistair out of the courts, the Arl was now working just as hard to send him right back into the game.
"It was Maric's decision to keep Alistair away from the courts. Alistair had never been given any choice when he was younger. But now, he can choose his own path."
"Ah. That's too bad."
"I think he would make a better King than you believe."
"Well, fair enough. I'll tell you this: my father must be stopped. Once he is kept from the throne, if it should fall to Alistair then I will be content."
Samantha held back a snort. They both knew it was a lie. Once Loghain was kept from the throne, it would be down to either Alistair or Anora, and Anora would be anything but content should Alistair win. Power was more addictive than lyrium potions, Anora would not give up her crown without a fight. But for now, they both needed to take the third party out of the race first. A temporary truce was called, a silent agreement was made. The Queen looked at her potential successor just as calmly as the Lady Cousland looked at the woman who had betrayed her. Still, not a hint of resentment was shown on either of their beautiful faces.
How they truly felt inside, they would never show.
Alistair concentrated on the book in front of him, at least he was trying to. Samantha had just left to meet with Anora, and he didn't like that one bit. What type of meeting was it? Behind closed doors, and he wasn't allowed to accompany her? Whatever Anora told his betrothed, she would tell him anyway, so why couldn't he be there to begin with?
His 'betrothed'... He couldn't quite hide a small grin at that thought. But that grin was instantly quelled as soon as a disturbing thought entered his rather busy mind. That ice block of a woman had betrayed Samantha without even blinking her eyes, who knew what type of nefarious traps she had set for his unsuspecting Sammy?
Alistair resisted the urge to head to the room where Anora was staying, where his Sammy currently was. Ever since that heartless woman had come to stay with the Arl, he had been avoiding that part of the mansion like the plague. Not that he was afraid of that ice Queen, he was more afraid of what he might do when he saw her. His punch had almost landed on Anora the other day, the next one might not miss even if he tried.
"All by your lonesome with a boring book?" asked Zevran as he waltzed in and took a seat across from him. "Where is that lovely lady of yours?"
Alistair sighed. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with the assassin, or anyone. "Off to see that... woman."
The assassin's eyebrow twitched up a notch as he lounged back, folding his hands behind his head. "Time for a showdown already? Do you think my little protege would trick her?"
"No, unfortunately. Sam is too nice..." A faint smirk then appeared on Alistair's lips. "Although I would love to see that bitch's face when she got a taste of her own medicine."
Zevran laughed. "See? I knew you had it in you!"
"What can I say? I am a bad, bad man..." His smirk widened. Who knew he would find some common ground with the notoriously flamboyant Crow? Yet, here they were, once again agreeing on the same issue. Perhaps he needed to share his concern, or perhaps he was merely seeking yet another agreement. Whatever the reason was, he heard himself asking, "Do you think it's a trap?"
Zevran looked at him questioningly.
"This... so-called meeting. She insisted on seeing Sam alone. Why can't I be there?"
Zevran shrugged. "If they talked about you, would that not make it a little awkward for you to be in the same room?"
"Right..." Alistair admitted grudgingly.
They had come to the conclusion that Anora chose to remain behind not to hide from her father, but to try to win Samantha's support for her bid on the throne. Alistair couldn't blame Anora for trying to persuade Samantha to join her side, after all, who wouldn't want the support from the last Cousland? But he could and certainly did blame the Queen for betraying his betrothed, causing her to suffer for the past few days. And he was not about to forgive and forget that vile woman's atrocity.
"But what if it's another one of her traps? If she touched Sam by a hair, I swear to the Maker and Andraste-"
"Relax, my friend," the elf cut him off with a lazy wave of his hand. "Should there be a duel, we should put all our gold on our Sammy to win. We'd make a fortune."
Alistair's face turned sour at the nickname Zevran used for Samantha. He thought he was the only one who called her that. "That woman is wicked! If it's swords or daggers, or even magic, Sam could dodge."
"She does have a brain inside that pretty head of hers, you know?"
"I know that!" Alistair snapped. "It didn't stop her from being thrown to the wolves by that sick, sick woman last time."
A quick flash of guilt crossed Zevran's face, which Alistair noticed despite how agitated he was. The Prince let out a weary sigh. "Sam can hold her own in a fight; she could even kick my ass if she wanted to. But that woman is sick, wicked, evil, and mean!"
Alistair's stubborn refusal to utter Anora's name seemed to amuse Zevran to no end. "'That woman' may be sick, wicked, evil and mean, but our Sammy is a smart lass. Or at least I thought she was, until I heard the news..." Zevran trailed off. Amber eyes scanning the other man, a corner of his lips twisted up into a smirk.
Alistair frowned mildly, confused. "What news?"
Zevran leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, closing the distance between them, as if to share a secret. "Someone was bold enough to ask for her hand in marriage, and she was dumb enough to say yes." His smirk broadened into a teasing grin at the sight of a blush creeping up on Alistair's face.
"She told you that?"
"With you trailing her like her shadow, when would she find the time to bring me such news without you noticing it?" Zevran snorted. "Although I do wish she would have consulted with me first. I would have asked her to think more than twice and perhaps reconsider once more."
Alistair narrowed his eyes at him. "Of course you would."
Zevran suddenly studied him with such seriousness, it was an expression Alistair had never seen on the assassin face. "Do you know how to kill the archdemon?"
Alistair once again frowned in confusion at the abrupt change of topic. "What?"
"Do you know how to kill the archdemon?" the assasin repeated, his face unchanged.
"I..." Alistair was lost for words. In truth, he had no idea; Duncan had never told him anything about that. "Like everything else, just chop of its head."
Zevran looked at him intently for a moment longer without making further comment.
"What does that have to do with us getting married?" Alistair asked suspiciously.
In a blink of an eye, his flamboyant face was back. Zevran merely shrugged. "Make sure you two stay alive long enough to get married."
That Alistair understood and fully agreed. "We don't intend to die, thank you very much."
Amber eyes looked straight into hazel ones, the intensity that had been gone a second ago was now back once more. "And if you ever make her cry..."
Alistair finished without missing a beat, "... I would stab myself before you did."
It was only after she closed the door behind her that she allowed a weary sigh to escape. Samantha leaned on the door and shut her eyes momentarily, pinching the bridge of her nose to will the headache away.
A simple meeting should not have been this exhausting, yet it was. The past few days had taken a toll on her, perhaps even more so than the past year. The capture, the injury, the emotional turmoil from assuming an inevitable end of their relationship to promising a happily ever after of her own.
But the most unbearable of all was the crushing news that she could never have a child. Not with Alistair - the one and only beloved prince of her fairy tale. Just when she thought she could have it all after losing everything, her world once again threatened to crumble. It was a flaw that would forever taint her happy ending; a void that could never be filled, nor could it truly be ignored.
Still, Samantha had to learn to come to terms with that glaring flaw in her otherwise perfect happily ever after. She would spend the rest of her life with the man she loved more than life itself, what more could she possibly ask for? Be it thirty years until their callings, or perhaps twenty, or even ten, she would cherish everyday with him, every single moment. Was that not enough?
She heard footsteps approach and looked up, not at all startled or surprised to have another person waiting in her room. As expected, Alistair stood in front of her and peered at her.
"I could get used to this..." she mumbled.
"Get used to what?"
"You waiting for me in our room every night," she explained with a tired smile.
He laughed. "Is that all you want?"
She looked at him lovingly then nodded. "That is all I want."
"Are you sure?" He grinned at her. "I can give you more than that, you know..."
She saw him leaning forward. Knowing full well he was about to kiss her, she tilted her head up and held a mischievous smile in check. It wasn't until the tip of his nose touched hers that she announced in a whisper, "You can give me a massage and a piece of pie. I would like to have a hot bath as well..."
He groaned in exaggeration at her antics, causing her to let out a soft giggle in response. Trapped between him and the door behind her back, Samantha realized there was nowhere in the entire Thedas she would rather be.
"You'll pay for that," he threatened then quickly stole a kiss before he backed away from her.
She smiled sweetly at that, then sat down at the edge of the bed. Although still drained, her headache began to subside. She knew it had to do with Alistair; his presence calmed her down more than he would ever know.
"So what did that woman want?"
"What else?" She glanced at him with a sly look. "She wanted to steal me away from you."
Alistair's eyes widened briefly before he burst into laughter. "Over my dead body."
"Don't say that," she chided with a wrinkle of her nose.
He stepped closer and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his finger tips tickled the side of her neck as his hand glided down, making her squirm. "Are you going to pick her over me?" She knew he was joking even without seeing his flirtatious smile. "The crown looks better on her, doesn't it?"
"I think... you look better than Anora, with or without that crown."
He grinned. "And I think that crown would look best on you."
"Be careful now, that's treason."
"Isn't that what I am doing?" He sat down next to her.
"You have the right to claim the throne."
He just smiled at her without arguing. Samantha was relieved to see that he had finally stopped struggling with his birthright and the path he was on. His hand rested on her back and stroked her slowly. "Tell me, what did she offer to win you over?"
"Oh, the usual... Fame and fortune..."
"And just how am I supposed to top that?"
"There is one thing I want she could never give..."
He pretended to think hard, then lit up with revelation. "Ah... I see. She's a woman, that means she doesn't have..." That earned him a smack on his arm. "Ow! Beard, I was going to say beard! What did you think I was going to say?" he asked with a snicker.
She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, making a face no one would have ever thought to see on the Lady Cousland.
He laughed before leaning close. "So, what is it that you want?" he asked very softly, his voice tickling her ears.
She knew he knew the answer. Instead of saying that one word he wanted to hear, she rolled her eyes at him, hiding a smile rather unsuccessfully.
His hand found its way to her waist, nudging her closer to him. "What is it?" he asked once more, his puppy face surfacing at will.
She looked up at his pup face, mentally counting down the seconds until she inevitably conceded. She made it to three seconds before she gave up and said, "You."
Puppy look was instantly replaced by a happy grin as he landed a kiss on her forehead, it was all the reward she needed at the end of the day. Her headache disappeared. If only his grins and kisses could settle every problem in their lives. "There is still one matter..."
"Let me guess: the castle ran out of cheese?"
She snorted. "If only..."
"Let's see... So far we've faced undead, demon possession, abominations, werewolves, stone golems, and countless darkspawn. Can't be worse than any of those. Nothing we can't handle together, I suppose?"
She looked straight at him and held his gaze for a moment, a smile slowly spread across her face. "No, there is nothing we can't handle together." She reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his. "There is unrest in the alienage. Anora suspects her father is behind it. The more evidence we can gather against Loghain before the Landsmeet, the easier it will be for you to win the votes."
He nodded and remained thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose it's worth checking it out. I'll go there tomorrow."
"We will," she corrected him pointedly, knowing it was not a misspoken word.
Alistair shook his head. "You've just been injured-"
"That was three days ago," she pointed out.
"And you're still recovering," he continued.
"We are not going to fight a dragon, we are only going to the alienage," she reasoned. "I can walk around the mansion and outside the garden, why not the alienage?"
"What if you're hurt again? What if a pickpocket accidentally hit you on your side?" He frowned, rather disturbed by that thought.
She arched an eyebrow at him. "If you are so concerned about my wound being reopened from some activities, perhaps you should sleep in your own room until I'm fully recovered. It's just next door..." She tossed a brief glance at the direction of his unused guestroom, driving her point home while keeping a straight face with some effort.
Alistair opened his mouth to retort but found no words. His puppy face was summoned instead.
"No, don't give me that look." She wisely turned away.
"Sammy..." Damn him, even his voice was lowered to a pleading tone. Samantha could feel her willpower begin to slip away as his eyes fixed onto her profile. She could still see his pup look in her mind's eye even without so much as to glance at him.
Samantha knew she had no choice but to fight fire with fire.
With her lips slightly pouted, she turned back to him and batted her long lashes once or twice, staring straight at him, a pleading look plastered firmly in her expressive eyes. To drive her dagger further in, she softened her voice to a breathless tone. "Alistair..."
She noticed the long breath he was taking to steel his mind. It was time to give another nudge to tip the balance of power in her favor. "Please, my love," she continued, leaning in closer, subtly yet deliberately pressing the softness of her body onto his arm. "You will be there to protect me, will you not? No one would dare to come close."
His pup face dissolved into thin air as he let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, fine. Have it your way." Glancing at her with a fake stern look, he warned, "But you have to stay by my side-"
"And not stray a step away from you," she finished his terms with a sweet smile reserved just for him.
He chuckled then breathed out yet another sigh. "You will be the death of me..."
She whispered before she planted a kiss on his lips, "As you will be mine..."