She felt betrayed.
Her, Anora Mac Tír. The cold-hearted, politics-oriented, seasoned Queen of Ferelden. The ridiculousness of the whole situation, the risk she ran of someone, anyone, finding out her emotional state was almost enough to make her feel ashamed. Not that she was not, but not exactly because of that.
It was because she saw them. She saw her.
She saw her practically fucking him as she grinds her hips onto him. She saw the way their eyes sparkled when they looked at each other, under the secrecy of the night and the solitude of the archery grounds. They shone the same way they used to sparkle when they looked at her.
Now, her precious turquoise blue eyes are full of tears. Treacherous drops trimming inside her lids, wanting nothing more than to escape and land on her perfectly smooth porcelain cheeks tinted with red, flushing with anger and agitation.
She wants to drag her out, pull her away from those silver eyes staring adoringly at her, in that special way Anora had grown so accustomed to and doggedly refuses to quit her habit. The Queen wants to be gazed at with that much love once again, even if it was just once more, but she knows she cannot.
The most powerful woman this side of the Greyback Mountains is, so, stuck between insisting in her desires and cause them all more heartbreak as she watches them grow closer and closer, or leave the room, punch her wall and cry her lungs out. Perhaps even scream, scream loud enough so the guards come and see the mess of a person she became.
Finally, after much deliberation, Anora decides for the former. She does not want to cause a scene right now. Let it be known through its natural ways. Once the usually vivacious king becomes demure, once the feasts and fests become few and far between, once the Diamond of Highever becomes dull, once, Andraste forbids, stomachs start to grow, it shall be known. They will know something is wrong. They always do.
Then, they will come with apologies and appeasements, and she will bask on it, because what hurts is not the betrayal, as she expects nothing less of her husband, but rather to be left behind.
Equally cold-hearted, Elissa looked at the Queen, but there was something wrong with the way that she did. No-one would mistake her for a fragile damsel, with that fire on her eyes and an accomplished sword to back it up, but she was rarely anything less than courteous, and this is not it. This was not how she normally looks at people, it was not how she normally looked at her.
No, the way her eyes met the Queen's turquoises from across the room alerted something in her, alerted that innate sense of a politician in the depths of her stricken mind, and her heart broke.
Elissa was looking at her apologetically. She never did, so it took her quite a few seconds to register exactly how she looked at her.
Finally, the Queen shed her tears and walked out of the room, her vision blurry and her feet stepping on the hem of her skirts. She did not care anymore. She did not care what they think. Because having the Diamond of Highever looking at her like that broke her. Much, much more than she thought she was already. Also because of her.
What is she sorry for? The way she just left her? The way she cannot love her as she did before? Or how she wished she could go back to the simpler times, before Cailan?
With those striking eyes of hers, Elissa Cousland could burn anybody once she looked at them.
And she burned. Anora Mac Tír burned as hot as the fires of Hell. For her, and only for her.
It has been a few days. Anora expected Elissa to follow her from the party, but she did not. Out of pride, the blonde lady has not talked to her, either, but she could not help but hear, listen to her, though not in a way she would have desired.
Anora gathered up the courage, wanting to finally talk to Elissa, to finally have this overdue conversation. Her fist already met her door, three loud knocks, her voice calling hers, when she heard rumbling, fumbling of sheets, and her voice. Moaning his name.
Immediate regret washed over the Queen.
Elissa did not hear her. Or she did, but elected to ignore. Anora was hoping she did because it would hurt less when she heard her say those three little words that she would kill just to hear from her. She was hoping the Diamond of Highever was saying it out of spite, out of anger and frustration and heartbreak, and not because she meant to tell Cailan about how she truly felt.
If Anora was to be honest with herself, she knew that she did not actually hear her, but she was not ready to face reality just yet.
"I love you." The wise and sweet tenor voice sounded through the wooden door as if it was the Chant of Light, even when drowned in sin.
Elissa told Cailan that she loved him, and he returned wholeheartedly, suddenly hitting the spongy spot inside of her that made her go feral. Her eyes rolled back as she moaned his name again.
Yes, Anora wanted to hear it from her, but she wanted you to tell her that. Not him.
There it was again, tears. She rushed out of the hallway still carrying the lovers' knot Elissa gave her. She should throw it away, because it was just an act of caring. She liked her, adored her, admired her, but she never loved her.
Anora saved herself because, when she left, she told him the words the Queen said to her, which she would only return a mere smile.
"I want to spend my whole life with you."