Chapter 148: The King and his Lady
His panic had continued to grow as he had made his way to the Arl's study. He had been able to control it during the Landsmeet, so many eyes upon him; it would not have been wise to fall apart there. He had stood his ground as the lords and ladies all swore fealty to him. He had remained calm as they had escorted Anora MacTir away, he would not execute unless he had to, she was still well-respected, both by the people, and to a degree, him as well. It had been her father that had earned his ire.
He would not kill a woman because of the circumstances of her birth, nor would he forget all the good she had done for the kingdom. Good deeds deserved to be rewarded.
Through it all, he had remained calm, his Templar training had helped, but now, now that they were out of the eyes of the lords and people, the terror he felt almost overwhelmed him, it was all he could do to keep from running down the halls, confronting the man who had gotten him into this mess, who had trapped him this gilded cage.
Alistair frowned.
That is what this was after all, a golden prison, a prison he had been placed in because of his blood, and now, there was no escape.
He wanted his friend to know that, he needed to tell exactly what he had done.
He opened the door to the Arl's study. Alim sat in a large arm chair before the fire, Bandit dozing at his feet. The elf glanced up as he entered, from the look on his face it seemed that he had expected his friend and warden brother to come to him.
"Hello Alistair," he said quietly, "I guess you want to talk?"
The former Templar blinked.
Talk, he thought, Talk, after everything that has happened he thinks I want to talk?!
His panic nearly exploded then, it was all he could do to keep his calm, keep from yelling his head off at the little man who had dropped this heavy burden on his shoulders. He wanted shriek, let the elf know the full depth of what Alistair saw as one of the greatest mistakes in years.
When he spoke, it was with as few words as possible, anything else and he might have turned hysterical.
"You did it," he said, "You actually did it."
Alistair swallowed hard, trying to regain his voice.
"You actually made me king."
The elf sighed; he looked so weary in that moment, like the full weight of Thedas had settled down upon his shoulders.
"I did nothing," he murmured, "You were the one who went out and got yourself crowned."
Alistair sputtered.
"M…Me?!"
"Yes, you," Alim said with only a hint of irritation in his voice, "You challenged Loghain before the lords. You took charge exactly when we needed you to. You struck him down in single combat and proved your quality to every man and woman in that room."
The elf smiled wanly.
"After all of that, my endorsement was nothing, it was icing on a cake."
His expression turned sly.
"You can thank me now, if you want."
Panic rose in Alistair's breath, now unchecked because the two of them was alone.
"Thank you? Thank you? Lim…I…I weren't you listening over the last year?! I…I never wanted this. My blood has been a chain around my feet since the day I was born! The very idea of all this terrifies me."
The elf didn't yell, even though Alistair had given a reason to, all he did was give the new king a sympathetic smile
"Relax," the elf said raising his hands, "I was only teasing."
Alistair was about to launch into another tirade but the coolness in Alim's expression stopped him. Over the last year, the elf had matured, he had developed, what, Duncan might have called, a command presence.
It was enough to calm even Alistair's terror, or at the very least push it back, give him a chance to restore his sense of self-control.
The former Templar, the new king, shook his head.
He found himself thinking back to Ostagar, to the small stone ringed courtyard where they had first met. Had anyone told him then that they would be standing here, he would have laughed in their face, but here they were.
He shuddered.
Ostagar, it seemed so long ago now, like it had happened to someone else, in another life. So much had happened since then. The werewolves, Orzammar, the dead trenches, the circle tower, the sloth demon, Haven, the High Dragon, Flemeth…
A shiver ran down his spine.
Morrigan.
Her name, the memory of their time together had changed him too. The witch had awoken something in him; something he had not even realized was asleep until they had met. She…he…they…
He pursed his lips.
Did he love her? He did not know. He definitely still missed her, lusted after her for certain. Then…she had turned away from them…from what they shared, but he still clung to some vain hope, perhaps they could find a way, perhaps she would…she…she…
She was using you, his conscience chided, she is just what you thought she was when you first met.
She...is a complete and utter bitch!
She chose to end what you had, not you.
That should be proof enough of what she is.
Cruel
Thoughtless.
Heartless.
A bitch.
Alistair sighed.
In his weaker moments he almost believed that.
He sighed.
Almost.
He pushed all thoughts of his faithless lover away, and returned to the present.
Returned to dealing with Alim.
The elf had changed to. He was no longer just the snarky little mage who despised chantry sisters. It was not just his legend that had grown in the last few months, it was the man himself. Leliana had played a part in that of course, her love smoothing away some of his friend's rough edges. Bellethiel had also contributed to his changes, her gods keep her. The Dalish girl had driven Lim to truly stand up and be a hero for the first time. He wished that, where ever she was now, she could look down and smile on what her sorcerer had accomplished. Of course, had she lived, it was safe to say that Alim and Leliana would likely never have happened. Regardless, both women had played a part in making Alim into the warden he was today, a hero in every sense of the word. Small in stature he might be, but a small man can cast a very long shadow.
The shadow of the warden now covered much of Ferelden. He was known, both to the lords and the small folk. He was both feared and respected.
If they were to defeat the Archdemon they would need both fear and respect. They had made a lot of promises to get to this point.
Now…they needed to turn those promises into actions.
Alim would keep their treaty bound allies in lines. The noble would not fall to Alistair, he…
The realization that the nobles were now his, almost sent him into a panic again, he forced it down, mostly. He gave his friend a pained look.
"I'm going to be a terrible king," he said morosely, "You realize that right?"
Alim's elven ears twitched, he sighed with irritation.
"Some might sit back and say that the Theirin blood in your veins will win out, but not me, that is a cheap answer. You are a good man, Alistair," he said, "And a fine warrior. I'm not going to stand here praising you and licking your boots, but even I must admit that. What is being asked of you is big, I won't deny that, but you are selling yourself short. You have strong sense of justice. You will fight when you must, but you don't go off seeking glory like some peasant boy playing at war either, you understand what your people will face."
The elf smiled slightly.
"Cailan did not get that. I thought him a bit of a fool when I first met him when Duncan and I arrived at Ostagar. That is not an insult, merely an observation, your brother did not truly grasp the situation, maybe wouldn't be here right now if he had."
Alistair reflected on what his friend was saying. He had not spent a lot of time around Cailan in Ostagar, but he had seen enough to know that at least some of what the elf was saying was true. He did not like thinking ill of the dead, but if Cailan had not been so eager to meet the horde in battle, maybe the order would number more than five right now, maybe Duncan might even still be alive.
The new king sighed.
"What am I going to do?" he asked.
"For now, you will lead your people against the Blight," he said, "If we survive, you will need to settle in and have to work to rebuild the kingdom."
The thought of that almost made Alistair whimper.
"It won't be easy," the elf said stopping him before he could cry out in fear, "But you won't be doing it alone either. Eamon and Teagan will be with you for sure, that I'm certain."
"Provided they survive the Blight," Alistair added.
"Yes," Alim agreed, "When the time comes you are going to have to marry. You will find a noble wife, and try to produce heirs. I know what you told me about the taint. You will just have to try and not focus on that."
The thought of taking a wife and trying to have children did not seem as daunting as ruling a kingdom. It was still a frightening prospect, but did not seem as big.
Alistair's brow furrowed in thought.
If he did marry, he hoped that the girl would at least be able to tolerate him, maybe even feel some affection for him in time. She might think him a fool at times, but hopefully she would think of him as being her fool.
The thought twisted his heart.
Morrigan had come to see some value in his mat least. Hopefully this future noble girl would as well. The thought of what the witch might think of him marrying gave him pause for a time. Would she feel jealous? Would it matter if she did?
He sighed again.
"I might need your help with it," he said, "All this ruling stuff; you seem to have a better handle on it that I do."
The elf smirked.
"I will be there if and when you need me, as long as I'm still alive to do so." He said; reminding the king that victory over the Blight was still not certain. "As far as making an heir, you will need to handle that part yourself. I don't think your nobles or Leliana would appreciate me getting that involved in royal business."
Alistair chuckled.
"You're such an ass," he said dryly.
"I know," the elf quipped,
He leaned back in his chair, his foot once again stroking Bandit's side,
Both of the wardens stared into the fire, contemplating what was to come.
"We will leave tomorrow," Alim said, "Word has been sent to our allies, our forces will amass at Redcliffe."
Alistair nodded, that part of the plan had already been agreed upon. They would slip their forces around Lake Calenhad, using it for cover, take the darkspawn horde in the rear, cut them off from the Blighted lands they had already secured, and any avenue of escape.
Alim hoped to scatter the horde, break it up into smaller pieces that could be destroyed more easily. Hopefully they could do enough damage to the spawn to tempt the Archdemon out of hiding. If they could draw the beast out, get it to engage them in battle…then…
The elf frowned.
Then the real work would begin.
Chop off the snake's head, and then the body would die. That was how the wardens ended Blights. Alistair had first said those words a year ago, to a young elven mage in a courtyard in Ostagar.
The former Templar, warden, and now future king frowned.
He doubted it would be that easy. They had travelled far, but it had been a journey full of surprises.
He would be foolish if he did not believe that fate did still not have at least one in store…
He would be very foolish indeed.
IOI
She had retired as soon as they had returned; citing exhaustion from the day, and frustration at dealing with noble fools, but that had only been part of it.
She had needed to get away; she had needed to be by herself for a moment. She needed to consider what came next.
She needed to think about the future.
Morrigan lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The witch could find no rest tonight, not after everything that had happened.
The witch frowned into the darkness.
It is almost time dear girl.
She sat up in bed. She scanned the shadows with wide amber colored eyes.
"Mother," she whispered, "Are you here?"
She looked around, expecting the old witch to step out of the darkness and sneer at her. Yet no Flemeth appeared.
Morrigan sighed.
Flemeth was dead; she needed to remember that, at least for now.
Had her mother taken precautions against her betrayal? She found that highly likely, but now was not the time to be worried about future vengeance.
At long last, it was time to put the plan into the motion, the true plan.
She took a deep cleansing breath.
The foolishness with the treaties was done, and now the fool Loghain had been silenced. The wardens' army stood ready, and Alistair was king. He…
She almost laughed at that thought.
Her sweet fool, a king, t'was hard to believe, yet fate often had a strange sense of humor. Now they needed to face the Archdemon, but first…one more thing was required of the wardens, something that she needed above all else.
It must be done, she thought.
Someone needs to tend to the needs of the future.
She sighed and lay back down, her hand went down her body, past her beating heart, and yes, despite what others said, she did have one. It came to rest on the flat of her belly.
Her thoughts began to drift.
One night, dear girl, Flemeth had promised, one night and the future will be secure.
The young witch frowned.
What a future it would be, she thought, guided by her hand, not her mother's. The future deserved better than to be hid in a bog.
She would see to it that the future was brighter than anything that Flemeth could have dreamed.
Soon the Blight would end, she did not doubt that, she knew the quality of her companions, they would not stop, if they failed, she would likely fall with them, so what did it matter. Yet, she did not believe that was their fate, to fall and die.
No, she thought.
She had faith in Alim and in her sweet fool.
They…they would find some way to succeed, and when they did.
She smiled into the darkness. It was a smile that was a mix of fear and excitement.
The Blight would end, and from its ashes...
…The future would be born.
She thought of rising, going to the wardens right then, but again Flemeth's voice came to her.
Patience dear girl, you have waited this long, a little longer will not matter.
Morrigan nodded.
She had waited long.
She could wait a little longer.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to find rest.
She would need her rest; the morrow would come soon enough.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
It was almost time.