19, Firstfall 9:42
*My love,* (Strike)
Caoilainn,
*I'm at a loss.* (Strike) Words cannot describe this level of frustration. My mind keeps going back to you. Are you doing well? Has the sickness passed? Has Fergus arrived yet? Sorry, not sorry about that.
I'm writing from Jader, but don't bother with a reply. We are leaving for Cumberland tomorrow. The letter would never reach me. Another reason why I should be there with you. Not having any answers to these questions is agonizing. I'm kicking myself for leaving, but I didn't have a choice. Yet again. It seems a recurrent theme for me.
It's so difficult to be so far from you again. Worse this time, even. Of course, I'm still angry with you, but I'm sure you knew that. Anger doesn't even seem like the right word anymore. No. I'm sad, and it's not just any sad. This one is deep, way deeper than I thought possible. But at least I can understand angry. In some ways it's useful. Maybe I'll just stick to that.
Anyway, I've never been good at writing letters. I don't want to burden you with my ramblings. Please, be well. I know you. Don't overwork. Are you taking care of yourself? Please, Caoilainn, ask for help if you need it.
I'll write again soon.
- A
One Week Later
The dress hugged Caoilainn's shoulders, snug enough sleeves that stretched down to her hands. Warden Blue raw silk, tightly woven kept her warm. More comfortable than she expected, loose around her bust, looser around her belly; she could breathe. Fur lined the hood of the fine wool cloak she wore over, the same color.
Fireplaces burned in each of the rooms in use of the Denerim palace, cared for by staff on rotation. In the grand hall, the ingle of the central hearth burned bright, providing the most warmth to the lower level of the palace. Cold waited in the spaces between, banished to the corners, staircases, and hallways, requiring Caoilainn to hurry from the letter she read in her upstairs office down to the grand hall.
The dining hall had become lonely. Even with some combination of her new guests present with her for breakfast, she had found the space bittersweet. In the short time she had returned to the palace since leaving the Wardens, the long table had become a focal point of her moments with Alistair. Appreciating alone time to prepare for her day, she created a space of her own, a small nook in a sitting room that she repurposed as a second office.
As custom, a young man met her with a mug of tea and a plate of breakfast at the exact moment she reached the lower floor. The young woman who had escorted her down the stairway wandered to some other task in the palace.
Since she had announced her pregnancy, she adapted to the care from her attendants. They helped her dress in the morning, escorting her to the lower office, and often checking on her needs regularly. She had learned to accept the assistance, the needs of her body exhausting her too much to refuse.
Caoilainn smiled and walked with the man, past the dining hall to her secondary office; he set the items down and departed. With all the help the attendants offered, they knew to leave her be once they delivered breakfast. The morning routine had become a creature comfort, a reliable method to approach her day, remedying from the sadness resting on the back of her mind.
Caoilainn settled into her chair, drinking a tonic to reduce her morning symptoms in one gulp, then taking the mug of hot tea to her nose. Ginger complemented the earthy scent, a natural sweetness, the right amount of cream already added. She sipped, welcoming the additional warmth and clarity of mind it provided. Glancing at her schedule on the table, she noted her list of things to do.
Before Caoilainn sat her mug down, her newest guest popped his head in the door.
"I've caught up on the reports from the country's leaders." Teagan leaned in the doorframe, sorting through papers in hand, not looking at Caoilainn. She gave a thin-lipped frown but let him continue. "I'd like to go over a few things with you before I respond, to make sure I understand yours and Alistair's plans for rebuilding the country and considering proper allocation of funds," he glanced up, and added a hurried, "your Majesty."
"Thank you, Teagan," Caoilainn replied, refraining from snapping at him. He had arrived a week prior, and he knew of her recent custom to dine alone. Caoilainn's remedy for her nausea did not promise to improve her mood. "Can it wait until after my meeting for Adalyn?" Once her plans were organized, she met daily with Adalyn to discuss training goals for her army.
The Arl gave a sheepish smile and tilted his head to the side. "I'd say yes, but no." He held up the papers in his hand. "Alistair's bookkeeper is scheduled to meet this morning at the same time as your meeting with your knight."
Caoilainn glanced at the ceiling while taking a breath. She gave a reluctant nod to Teagan toward a chair near the table. "If we could be quick." She took her mug back in hand, holding it close to her chest.
Smile genteel, Teagan entered the small room and sat across from her. An old friend to the royal couple, and an even older acquaintance to Caoilainn, Teagan was notorious for using decorum to his advantage alongside his quick wit and good looks. But his thinning hair and gaunt cheeks made his charm significantly less effective on Caoilainn than when she was younger. Though he wore armor, his absence of physical training showed in his belly.
"You'll have to forgive me for eating while we talk. Would you like some tea?" Caoilainn smiled politely, deliberate not to offer him breakfast, communicating her desire to end this meeting as quickly as possible. Whatever shame she had around the impropriety of eating in front of him dissolved when she felt pangs of hunger.
He nodded and gave a wink. "That would be superb. I am so fortunate to be in the hospitality of one so kind as yourself, my Queen."
My Queen. Words she heard countless times in casual context from staff and civilians, the amorous epithet she longed to hear from Alistair sounded wrong from Teagan. Having long since grown out of her girlhood crush on the current Arl of Redcliffe, she shifted in her seat. Grateful for a passing attendant, Caoilainn waved her hand. The servant stopped to help.
"Another tea, with milk and sugar on the side." She thanked the servant and returned to Teagan.
Caoilainn swallowed another sip and shook her head. "Please, I've returned to serve my role, but you've known me far too long to start calling me that now." She hadn't seen Teagan in her years away from the palace, and he knew better than to ask her reasons for leaving.
"Forgive me, my lady." He crossed his legs. "My etiquette precedes me. I appreciate your time this morning."
Caoilainn gave a small smile, and the attendant returned with Teagan's drink. As he fixed his portions of milk and sugar and they discussed his concerns. Requests from regions within Ferelden for additional support, money, and manpower for rebuilding. He needed her guidance on the priorities of the throne, which regions she deemed necessary to aid first, and the location of the funds.
"According to these numbers, the bank is down to its reserve. If we spend from it, we run the risk of depleting resources if another emergency occurs." He sipped his tea after explaining. "I'm unsure how you wish to proceed."
This can't be too complicated. Caoilainn kept her thought to herself, hoping it to be true. She asked of the most in need, which cities and regions shortages prevented them from functioning and how the country would benefit most from providing aid. She ate her breakfast while Teagan explained.
The answers were not simple. A few of the country's chantries remained unusable, including Redcliffe's. Without the havens for worship, many regions' donation centers could not operate, people in need could not gather. Further, the Hinterlands lacked armed support, their guards eliminated through the events of Corypheus left the village susceptible to bandits and organized crime.
Crestwood's trade slowed since the Fade rift demons destroyed their resources, preventing their supplies from traveling to the rest of Thedas and to Amaranthine to be sold to the Free Marches. Although Amaranthine recovered, most of the port rebuilt, a major dock remained shut down. It influenced both incoming and outgoing trade to the country. The city fared well without the resources, but it cost the rest of the country an adequate supply of key items.
Teagan went over a few other requests with similar circumstances, including one from Starkhaven. They were too many to make any single solution easy to determine.
Caoilainn bit her lip, looking into her tea. A speck of tealeaf floated on the surface; she followed it with her eyes as she thought. When she requested to be included in major decisions, she had assumed herself more equipped. After the Blight, the young royal couple had combined their efforts to make choices for Ferelden, and when she departed to Vigil's Keep, obligations as the Arlessa of Amaranthine required careful consideration. Pride in her responsibility and aptitude as Warden Commander did not serve her here. Previous experience, no matter how similar the circumstances fell short. She had no idea where to start.
"If I may," Teagan spoke up, leaning forward to call her attention, "I can order for the bookkeeper to delay decisions until Alistair returns."
"No," she shook her head, "they need help now. Did Alistair have a plan?"
In all the time she spent preoccupied with the Wardens and even the royal army when she returned, Caoilainn did not notice that Alistair rarely spoke of the details of his responsibilities. She never asked, not comprehending the difficult decisions he made regularly- some of which he may have requested her counsel in their previous life.
Teagan nodded and set down his tea. As he glanced at a few notes, he explained, "At our last meeting he suggested we focus on helping those most immediately affected. Any regions who without support might face illness or death, no matter how small the population. He seemed confident the economy would recover. But if I can offer my opinion, these new reports make me think otherwise."
She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I have not been involved in the meetings since the breach was formed. I'm not sure I have enough information to make these decisions on my own."
Teagan sipped the last of his tea and set the cup and saucer down on a side table. "I can make a recommendation if you wish."
Knowing the differences between the two men, Caoilainn understood Teagan's plans would differ from Alistair's, but she wished to hear all options She nodded for him to continue.
"As I've suggested to his Majesty, I'd recommend improving trade. A small withdrawal from the reserve would repair the dock in Amaranthine. You can use less money rebuilding chantries to help generate donations and shelter to those in need. The losses should be minimal, your more likely a return of funds and increase the flow of supplies."
She thought about his answer, staring back into her mug. "And if we help rebuild the villages fearing bandits, death, and disease first?"
Teagan frowned, but gave the answer."You will have to use the reserve and it would take longer to build it back up. The least lives would be lost."
"How would Alistair handle this?" She creased her brow as she set her mug down.
"My lady," smiling, Teagan's head leaned to the side, "the King is a most courteous ruler. He would undoubtedly use the reserve to help those most in need. While he is gracious, he is also stubborn. He would insist the economy will rebuild before the depleted reserve is problematic."
A thought occurred, and Caoilainn squinted, looking up. "Could we redistribute any funds from Denerim, or regions that didn't suffer from the effects of the rifts?"
Lips pressing to a thoughtful frown, Teagan shrugged, "I could check in my meeting with the bookkeeper. I know there isn't much room for those adjustments but it might be enough. Regardless, what is your priority, your Majesty?"
"The people," she stood, a sign for Teagan to do the same. "Alistair has been a good leader, and I plan to continue that. If the funds are available by reorganizing expenses, fix the dock in Amaranthine. The reserve will help the smaller regions."
Rising to join her, Teagan confirmed her request and bowed. She escorted him from the room before their conversation could wander back to friendly banter or small talk. Sighing, Caoilainn took the few minutes of quiet to breathe prior to Adalyn's arrival.
The day passed with less effort. Discussing the army's needs with Adalyn proved uncomplicated compared to addressing the state of Ferelden.
"Another letter came, your Majesty," the same attendant who escorted her that morning knocked on her open upper office door. She nodded for him to bring it to her, stating gratitude before he left.
Amaranthine. She recognized the symbol pressed into the seal as her fingers slid under it. Slowly, she scanned the page. The first letter of congratulations for her pregnancy came from the Arlessa of Amaranthine. Caoilainn had appointed Selina as her replacement before returning to the palace after the events caused by the Architect. They had remained in contact about Amaranthine's affairs, particularly when Caoilainn went back to Vigil's Keep.
Since announcing her pregnancy to the palace, she had received a few small gifts and well wishes from within the city. Citizens who wanted to show their happiness for the King and Queen's heir, pleased with the continuation of the Theirin line. But this letter informed Caoilainn that the word has spread outside of the confines of the capital. Soon all of Ferelden would know. It added pressure.
She reread the letter from Selina.
Your Majesties,
The Arl and I send you well wishes. You are both a gift to our kingdom and news of your heir promises continued growth and prosperity to Ferelden.
Maker watch over you and your child. Long live the King and Queen! To Ferelden!
The words conveyed the image Caoilainn and Alistair gave the people; a perfect couple, a lie. She was supposed to share this with him, the excitement of announcing the news of their pregnancy to the kingdom. A pit settled in her stomach.
Now she was alone, reading this joy-filled letter, not knowing when he would return, if he would return. He might not come back. Glimpses in her mind of his smiling and laughter only worsened longing. Fear emerged from where it hid within her sadness. A lingering dread she held since Ostagar, the knowledge that someday she might lose him permanently.
As if the emotion rose from her heart to her eyes, tears welled and then overflowed. She tossed the letter down on her desk and leaned over, head in hands. Her face scrunched, and she squeaked, failing to hold back from sobbing.
Her crying continued, racking with undenied grief.
A smooth voice called from the doorway. "It is unwise to leave your door open in bouts of intense emotion, should you wish to be alone." Caoilainn looked up to see Morrigan with her arms crossed.
Eyes burning from so many tears, Caoilainn rubbed them and voiced a sarcastic snicker. "Don't you have a son somewhere around here? Shouldn't you be concerned with what he is doing instead of pestering me?"
"Kieran seems to be fascinated with Fergus." Morrigan shrugged and walked in the room, not waiting for an invitation. "Oddly, he has stated he does not mind. Currently, he's showing Kieran how to play with swords."
Oren. The thought pulled at Caoilainn's heart and her eyes welled again. She blinked back the tears and smiled."And you're comfortable with Kieran playing swords?"
"My fears have been lifted about his future. He was intent, and most unfortunately, I suspect a strong genetic component to his desire." Standing behind a chair across from Caoilainn's desk, Morrigan smirked.
The reminder of Kieran's paternity did not cease to be bittersweet, confusing to feel both gratitude and resentment for the young boy's existence. Now more than ever, it connected Caoilainn and Morrigan deeper than friendship.
"Your tears are wasted. I can think of at least ten ways you could better spend your energy."
Blunt as usual, Morrigan was unwilling to cushion advice with sweet words or pampering.
It made Caoilainn laugh. "I have my own fears, Morrigan," Caoilainn sat up straighter and crossed her arms. "Alistair might not return. I might be left to care for the kingdom and this child on my own."
A condescending hushing sound came from Morrigan. "You speak as if you weren't raised from birth to do so. Sad as you may be, you would be well equipped to manage those responsibilities, and your support system is extensive."
Exasperated, Caoilainn shook her head. "You speak as if I'd ever get out of bed again. If I lost Alistair, I don't know if I could live."
"You would have to," Morrigan's hand waved toward Caoilainn's belly, "If not for you, then for him."
It's true. Caoilainn admitted without voicing her agreement. She paused, frowning. "You still believe it's a boy?"
Giving a solitary nod, Morrigan replied, "I do. Have you chosen a name?"
Caoilainn made a small shake of her head and mumbled, "I'm waiting for Alistair."
"Then let us keep faith he returns, lest you will have a nameless son."
The comprehensive fear of losing Alistair ran deeper than death. Caoilainn pressed her hand to her belly. "He might return and still decide to leave me."
"'Tis his choice," Morrigan's hand waved away the concern, "though I doubt he has the capacity. As much as he may think otherwise and as much as it makes me gag, his love for you is unconditional."
Caoilainn exhaled through her nose, tapping her foot under her desk. "Morrigan, you assume too much as usual." Her hands extended above the desk, annoyed, frustrated. She took a breath and set her hands down over the letter from Amaranthine. "You don't understand how much I've hurt him, over and over."
Scoffing, Morrigan raised her voice. "I know what you did. You blamed him for everything and now you insist on owning all culpability, Caoilainn. Who does that help?" Stunned, Caoilainn's mouth opened without a reply. Morrigan huffed and continued with her rant. "No one. You and he are each responsible for your marriage. Your crimes were blatant, but he is not without flaws. He must own his choices, including to stay with you, and you cannot take that from him."
"I don't..." Caoilainn's mumbling trailed off.
With a sigh, Morrigan twirled her hand. "Enough. 'Tis nothing to dwell on in his absence. When he returns, you can determine how you will live. For now, reserve your energy to care for your offspring."
"I'm trying." Caoilainn mumbled thanks. Gratitude admitted, Caoilainn could not deny the validity of the suggestions the Morrigan had given since she arrived.
Patient and knowing, Morrigan acknowledged Caoilainn's efforts with a nod. "I'll see you at dinner." Slow steps took Morrigan to the door, but she turned before leaving. "You will find no absolution from your sins in fear. Not even giving him a son will make him forgive you."
Caoilainn gave a respectful hum of agreement. "I've noticed." She could not argue, but another thought came to mind. "Morrigan," Caoilainn murmured, "What happened to Kieran at Skyhold?"
Lips pulled down, Morrigan made a pensive chuckle. "'Tis no concern of yours. I will see you at dinner, Caoilainn." Morrigan left Caoilainn's room. Her footsteps echoing as she walked toward the stairs.
*Writer's note* Thank you SO MUCH to the people that let me know they were reading. Words of encouragement, feedback, anything is so nice. I know not everyone is a commenter, but the thought/effort is so freaking appreciated.