A/N: Many thanks to Crisium, who is the person making this story work. All remaining mistakes are my own.
"This is so typical of you," Elissa said, throwing up her hands. "First you tell me you won't force me to marry him and that it's my decision to make and then, when I do accept him, you ride all the way over to Denerim to ask me why in the Maker's name did I accept him and if I've gone mad."
Fergus had the grace to look vaguely embarrassed. "I didn't say that last bit."
"But you thought it!"
They were alone in the guestroom in Arl Bryland's house that had been Elissa's for a week, but it wasn't the only reason Elissa had abandoned all her manners and reverted to childhood habits. It hadn't been an easy week, and the new Royal Engagement, capital letter clearly audible to everyone who spoke of it, had been only part of the problem.
In a way, being able to rant and pace was incredibly freeing.
Fergus sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "I know you wanted to get away from Highever – Maker knows, anyone would – but you spent months huffing and glaring when his name was mentioned. And now you want to get married to him?"
"I do not huff," Elissa said indignantly.
"You do too. And don't change the subject, brat."
"Oaf." Elissa barely caught herself before sticking her tongue at Fergus, who was grinning at her widely. With a groan and little grace she fell back onto the bed. "Oh, I hate you."
"Mind you, I think he is insane for wanting to marry you," Fergus said conversationally. "No sane man would. You don't like criticism, you don't tolerate any opinion other than yours, you are a harsh mistress—"
"I am not!" Elissa sat up, aghast. "Did you see how the servants cringe in this house? I never once shouted at a servant in my life."
"No, but you expect every command to be carried out to the letter. Very politely, yes, but you control every breath of the household."
"Fergus," Elissa said slowly, "who else is there? The castellan is as busy as I am, and you aren't there, and there's nobody I could delegate anything to. All the old servants are gone; half the castle is gone…"
"I know, I know," he said quickly. "I'm not blaming you for anything. You keep a very efficient household; Mother taught you well. But do you realise you are about to take over Father's job?"
It's not as if she hadn't thought about it. Bryce Cousland had been an occasional ambassador and a trusted advisor of King Maric's, and when King Cailan had seemingly inherited him and his services as a matter of course, the teyrn had chafed at Cailan taking him for granted with relentless good cheer. In the end Bryce had claimed advancing age and finally "retired" to Highever, full of praise for Anora's qualities as a queen and nothing more than polite smiles about the new king – until the Blight.
"I can do it," Elissa eventually said, hating the uncertain note in her voice. "And he is far from stupid. We can do it."
"It's not enough that he isn't stupid and you are bossy, brat," Fergus said tiredly. "You will need—"
"Support in the Landsmeet, ambassadors for sending abroad, trade agreements, rebuilding the farmsteads, provisions for the widows and orphans, yes," Elissa said. "And not in that order, yes. I know. I know it won't be easy."
"Then why?" Fergus asked. She couldn't tell by his tone if he was exasperated or truly curious.
Elissa closed her eyes, remembering. You wanted to see if I could be that king. "Because he won't be able to do it alone," she finally said. "And I—"
"You are a Cousland," Fergus summarised. "You knew that without you he doesn't stand a chance, and as a Cousland it is your duty to Ferelden and to him to give him that chance."
Elissa opened her eyes and looked at her brother – the only other person in Ferelden who truly understood. "We may still fail," she said. "But at least with me he has a higher chance of succeeding."
Fergus slumped in his chair, sighing. "Do you ever wish Father had been a fisherman?"
"All the time," Elissa said hollowly. "You?"
"Not all the time."
"No?"
"Sometimes I wish he had been a carpenter."
They sat in silence for a minute until shrill shouting from downstairs made them both jump. "Oh, I know I should be feeling sympathy for that girl, but I do so want to slap her sometimes," Elissa said.
"I did wonder how you could stand her," Fergus muttered.
"It's not her fault. Leonas is an abysmal father," Elissa said, standing up to smooth the wrinkles out of her skirts.
"Not all children of bad fathers turn out like that," Fergus said with distaste. "Anyway, I should get changed. I need to go meet some people."
"Were you thinking about reopening Highever Estate?" Elissa asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.
Fergus grinned down at her. "That bad, huh? We'll see; I need to inspect the damage first. I'll do what I can."
"Thank you," Elissa said, and then surprised herself by reaching up and giving Fergus a peck on the cheek.
"Oh, is she that bad?" he grinned, but patted her shoulder quickly.
"No," Elissa said without elaborating. "Shoo now. I need to get changed as well; I'm having an audience with His Majesty this afternoon."
"Yes, Leonas said. Do you want me to accompany you?" Fergus asked, hand already at the door.
"I think you need to; there'll be people there I need distracted."
"Court intrigue, how I missed it," Fergus sighed, walking out.
Ringing for the maid, Elissa thought that as much as Fergus complained, the change of place seemed to suit him. He was still pale, but rather more animated than he had been in Highever.
Two hours later she was thinking of something else entirely.
"This is not a riding dress," Elissa said desperately. "Maker's breath, Fergus, I need to be presentable when I get to the palace!"
"Then a wagon, perhaps?" Fergus suggested. His tone was innocence itself, but his eyes were anything but.
"Don't tease her," Bryland said. He was looking harassed, but that was more likely due to the shouting they had heard earlier. "I have one of those bench saddles somewhere, my girl, will that do? My wife used them when she was, er, expecting."
"If it can be found in a hurry, yes," Elissa said. "I can't ride in it; somebody will have to lead the horse, so it will take longer. Also, Fergus, I am going to order your execution the moment I am crowned."
"It wasn't my fault Wulff got drunk and wouldn't stop talking," Fergus said, rather unsuccessfully fighting a smile.
"You could have excused yourself on account of having a," she swallowed an expletive, "royal audience."
"How could I have known you wouldn't want to ride?"
"The very. First. Moment," Elissa said through gritted teeth.
"No, I think that's the moment he has to present you to the people. Tradition, you know."
"Children," Bryland said chidingly, returning from a brief consultation with a servant.
Elissa took a calming breath. "My apologies, Leonas. You get enough of that already, I suppose."
Unexpectedly, Bryland grinned. "Oh, no. This is restful. I'm not responsible for either of you, you don't want any money, there are no ear-splitting shrieks, and I get to simply watch."
"Watch," Elissa repeated tonelessly.
"I suppose he means something like a bear pit," Fergus said, elbowing Bryland in the ribs.
"Careful, my boy," Bryland said, although he wasn't even trying to hide his grin. "You don't want to hurt an old man."
"Nonsense; you are barely fifty," Fergus said carelessly. Suddenly he frowned. "What was that?" There was a crash from an upper floor, following by screaming.
"Habren," Bryland said with a sigh. "Don't mind her."
"Did you write to your wife?" Elissa asked gently.
"Yes, and I included your letter, too. We'll see what she—oh, there's your horse."
It took a stable boy and a huge mounting block to get Elissa into, or rather onto the saddle, much to her mortification. A page in Bryand's livery led the horse, clearly unused to the strange contraption on its back and balking at the smallest obstacle. Fergus, astride his bay gelding, pace matched to Elissa's mare, was trying so hard not to laugh out loud that his face had gone red from the effort.
Elissa concentrated on sitting still, holding on, and thinking uncharitable thoughts. At least it wasn't raining.
In front of the palace, while a flock of servants were swarming around them, she took the opportunity to ram her elbow into Fergus' abdomen when he was helping her dismount.
"Should I warn your husband-to-be about your violent habits, or let him discover them for himself, on your wedding night perhaps?" Fergus murmured into Elissa's ear, rubbing his stomach and trying not to glare too obviously.
"Oh, I do apologise, brother," Elissa said sweetly and loudly. "Please forgive my clumsiness. I do hope I have not hurt you too badly."
Taking the hint, Fergus offered her his arm and they swept into the palace entrance in silence.
This time they were shown to a small hall with a blazing hearth and carved wooden seats that made Elissa long for cushions. The king was standing by the fire, with three other men she recognised. When their entrance was announced, he came over to give a very credible bow and offered her his arm after she rose from her courtesy.
Elissa gave him her most polite smile. "Your Majesty, a pleasure and an honour to see you again."
"Lady Elissa, I trust you are well."
For some reason the studied words struck a wrong note; they were right of course, it was what he should have said, but after having met him in private they rang wrong somehow, Elissa thought. Nevertheless she sailed on. "May I introduce my brother, the teyrn of Highever?"
Fergus bowed formally, all trace of expression hidden behind a polite mask. "Your Majesty. I had the honour to be present at your coronation, but sadly I was forced to return to Highever very soon after and thus was not able to beg for an audience."
"Teyrn Cousland," the king said with a nod and again, Elissa felt some strange dissonance. The words were right, and so was the non-expression on his face, and yet…
But then, with the introductions complete, the nobles that had been standing with the king earlier were hurrying over and Elissa straightened, chilling her smile several degrees.
"Lady Elissa, Teyrn Cousland, may I present some of my… advisors," the king said woodenly. "The arl of Redcliffe, the bann of Dragon's Peak, and the bann of West Hill."
Elissa curtseyed again. "My lords, an honour."
"The honour is ours, my lady," Arl Eamon said. Elissa remembered him vaguely from her visits to Denerim with her father; he had aged visibly since and she thought she remembered Bryland speaking of some grave illness.
"Arl Eamon, a pleasure to see you again," Fergus said on cue. "My lords. It is an honour to be back in Denerim for such a momentous occasion." He took an unobtrusive step towards one of the groups of seats.
The king gave him an uncertain look, but at a gentle pressure of Elissa's hand led her towards the hearth. "How did you do that?" he asked quietly when they were out of earshot. "I couldn't get rid of them all morning; they kept telling me what to say to you."
"Such as?" Elissa murmured, looking at the embers and guiding him to turn around so that both their faces were turned away from the nobles behind them.
"Oh, pretty much everything we agreed not to do. How I would be the sole ruler and you were not to advise me on anything other than how you take your tea."
"Milk and no honey," Elissa said with a small smile.
He smiled back, almost too quickly to see. "They said you were a bossy shrew and I was not to listen to you."
Elissa blinked. "They are not entirely wrong," she said cautiously. "I have been recently reminded that I tend to be quite… forceful at times."
"Like when you dare a king to have you arrested, you mean?" he asked, the courtly expression slipping to reveal a grin underneath.
Elissa hoped the heat in her face was merely from the fire. "I ought to apologise for most of the things I said then," she murmured.
"Don't," he said, looking surprisingly serious. "It was a nice change. I felt like I'd eaten too much honey, and you were…"
"A sip of vinegar?"
"Oh, don't do this; it's not fair," he managed, his shoulder shaking. "If I start laughing now they'll never let me hear the end of it."
Elissa smiled despite herself, but then remembered that they had little time to discuss serious business. "Do you remember who first started dissuading you from giving me too much power?" she asked.
"I don't know. It certainly felt like all of them at once. Why?" To his credit, the king managed to not change posture or expression, nor to look over his shoulder when asking that.
"I remember a few rumours about Fran— the bann of West Hill," Elissa said cautiously. "It may be for the best if you tried to keep some distance from him."
"Eamon said the same thing," the king said, looking fixedly at the fire. "But I'm tired of—anyway. Never mind."
"Arl Eamon's advice may have been. I shall ask Fergus whether he knows more when we get back," Elissa said. "Mind, if mere unsavoury habits made bad advisors, you ought to throw Sighard out of the palace; that man is a terrible glutton. How he has kept from exploding I shall never know. But I think it was something truly unpleasant where Franderel is concerned. I will make inquiries."
"Thank you," the king said in a strange tone.
Elissa turned to look at him, a smile fixed on her face for the sake on the onlookers. He looked back at her, seeming strangely wistful.
"What is it?" she asked without moving her lips.
"Nothing. It's just… nice," he said cryptically.
Elissa blinked. "Nice?"
"I know we're in this together just because of politics, but it's still nice to know you're on my side," he said quickly, as the voices behind them came closer. "Since Darrian died—"
"Elissa, I was just telling Arl Eamon how much you were looking forward to removing to the Highever Estate," Fergus said loudly behind them; a clear warning.
Without removing her hand from the king's arm, Elissa turned around with a ready smile. "Oh, that is very much the case, my lord. I miss our city house. Arl Bryland has been so very hospitable, but there is nothing quite like being in one's own home, is there?"
"This will soon be your home, my lady," the Bann Franderel said with a thin smile.
"Oh, yes." Elissa laughed lightly. "His Majesty was just informing me about the date he thought suitable for the wedding. A wise decision indeed; well before the heat wave but also giving me enough time to assemble my trousseau."
To her relief, the king didn't miss a beat. "I don't think we should wait too long," he said.
"Certainly not; an early date is our best option," Arl Eamon said briskly, looking at Fergus. Under her hand, Elissa felt the king's arm tense.
"His Majesty will arrange everything to his liking, I'm sure," Fergus said placidly.
"He has kindly given me enough time to put my affairs in order for the next Cousland heir presumptive," Elissa said with a serious-looking frown, and then turned to the king as if struck by a sudden idea. "Oh! If Your Majesty would grant me a wish, there is something that I was thinking of earlier." She beamed at Franderel. "Your lordship just reminded me of it."
"Certainly, my dear lady Elissa," the king said, smiling at her. She first thought that he was getting remarkably adept at feigning emotion before she realised that his smile was genuine.
"If I might be allowed to look at the rooms that are to be mine, Your Majesty?" she asked. "I was thinking about some items that are particularly dear to me, and whether I should take them along to my… new home." She gave a chuckle, inviting the men to share her joke.
"Why, yes, a servant can be summoned," Arl Eamon began before the king interrupted him.
"It will be my pleasure to show you the rooms myself," he said tensely. "It is my… home, after all." Before any of the others could say anything he steered Elissa towards the door and down the corridor.
"Slow down," she whispered. "The servants here are all paid a little extra by everyone, you can be sure." When he did slow her pace, she squeezed his arm briefly. "Sorry about the wedding date issue. I didn't want to pressure you."
"Are you kidding?" he asked, a little too loudly. "I wish you could move in next week."
Elissa pondered making risqué joke about the wedding night and decided against it. "In case you were wondering," she said as they walked up a grand staircase, "there are no items other than clothing I can bring with me, so I hope there is enough furniture."
"Shame; I had great hopes for a pet bronto," the king said, deadpan.
"No, that one's going into the royal gardens," Elissa replied in kind, which got her a grin in return.
Upstairs the king gestured her through an open door. "Anora took most of her personal furnishings with her," he said, "but they moved—" he broke off as they saw a maid dusting an armoire in the adjoining room.
Elissa pulled him towards what she assumed was the dressing room, "Oh, what a charming view," she exclaimed and then mouthed, "leave the door open."
"I'm getting really, really tired of this," the king said quietly as they stood side by side, looking at the roofs of Denerim.
"Arl Bryland is already looking for good secretaries and servants," Elissa whispered. "And we will pay them enough that they won't be easily bribable."
"You trust him that much?" the king asked.
"I trust him with my life, blindly," Elissa said. "I will tell you why as soon as we are married."
"But that doesn't mean that I can trust him, can I? He's only looking out for your interests," the king said, sounding bitter.
"Until we are married. Then we are one and the same – if we both keep to our agreements," Elissa said.
The king sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes I wish…"
"That your father had been a fisherman?" Elissa asked ruefully.
He blinked. "I was thinking cheesemonger, actually."
The sudden rush of feeling overcoming her wasn't pity, certainly; but Elissa thought it was sympathy. She had had her entire life to learn to be a Cousland, after all. He was probably still not used to thinking of himself as a Theirin, and already the blood prize was being demanded from him, day after day.
She reached down to briefly squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, his lips quirking in a sad smile. After a moment he turned to the window, as it pointing out something to her; an inspired move on his part.
Elissa looked at the bulk of Fort Drakon looming in the distance. "Was Darrian—?"
The king laughed briefly, entirely without humour. "They call him the Dragonslayer now. Do you know what they called him before he died?"
"'Warden'?" Elissa asked dryly.
He sighed. "In the end, yes. At first it was usually, 'Hey, you!'. He was an elf, from the Denerim alienage, did you know that? Does anyone even remember that?"
"I didn't know," Elissa said. She hadn't even considered that the surviving Wardens were people with separate histories and personalities until one of them had died ending the Blight and the other had miraculously ascended to the throne, but it would have been more than impolitic to mention that. "I spent most of the Blight… in hiding. We did not hear anything but the most unbelievable rumours about what was happening. You will have to tell me what you really did, one day, Your Majesty."
He turned to look at her. "My name is Alistair."
"I know that," Elissa said, taken aback, "but I can't simply—"
"Can't simply what? Can't call me by my name when we're in private and plotting?"
He had a point. "You are right, Y—Alistair. But only in private, of course."
He gave her a brief and incongruous grin. "And you, my lady? What shall I call you – only in private, of course?"
"I should be greatly honoured if you were to call me by my name in private, Your Majesty," Elissa said, trying to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice.
"Oh, ouch!" But he was smiling again.
Elissa smiled back, and then frowned as a thought from earlier reappeared. "Your—Alistair, a week ago, when they were putting me forth as a candidate, did they speak about limiting my power, or is that a new development?"
"They couldn't stop talking about how knowledgeable and politically experienced you were, before," he said. "I mean—"
Elissa smiled. "I understand." She bit her lip, thinking. "I didn't speak to anyone of importance during this week, and Bryland's servants are trustworthy. So they are either afraid of Bryland and Alfstanna gaining power through me, or it was Fergus' arrival in Denerim that spooked them. Fergus, most likely, because I was under Bryland's protection from the beginning."
"Does, ah…" The king sighed. "All right, I have no idea how to ask this politely, but does your brother want…?"
"Hmm? Oh." Elissa shook her head. "No, he will not attempt to influence you through me, unless something fantastic happens. I wouldn't let him, anyway. Well, Highever is always interested in better trade with Antiva, of course, but that is something that concerns all of Ferelden; Fergus' interests are the same as yours and mine there. He is…" she sighed. "He still hasn't come back, in a way. I'm glad he is in Denerim now, although the teyrnir needs him. But this is good for him."
"Come back?" the king asked, frowning.
Elissa looked down. "I was told you and the—and Darrian were the ones who killed Howe."
The king's expression darkened. "Yes."
"I'm glad," Elissa whispered fiercely and closed her stinging eyes. "I'm so glad you did. I only wish I'd been there myself to cut his throat."
"Howe proclaimed himself the teyrn of Highever, didn't he?" the king asked slowly.
"To be able to do that," Elissa said without opening her eyes, "he had his soldiers slaughter every person in our castle while the majority of our men had gone with Fergus to Ostagar. They killed Fergus' wife, Oriana, and little Oren…" She stopped before she lost control of her voice.
"And your parents," he finished for her. "I'm sorry." Elissa opened her eyes in surprise as she felt his hand squeeze her arm briefly.
"Thank you," she said almost calmly. "I almost wish you could have displayed his head on a pike outside the palace, like the Orlesians used to do."
He made a face at her. "That's… rather disgusting, actually."
Elissa lifted a shoulder in what was almost a shrug. "Maybe. But very satisfying." She sighed. "Sometimes I'm almost glad Teyrn Loghain is dead. I don't think I could have ever brought myself to speak to him again after he allied himself with Howe."
The king turned to her abruptly, his expression livid. "Almost glad? He killed—"
"Ah, Alistair, there you are," Arl Eamon said from the outer room and they turned to face him. Elissa was almost certain that her face betrayed nothing, but the king visibly fought for composure.
"His Majesty was telling me of the battle of Denerim," Elissa said, with the appropriate gravity.
"I see," Arl Eamon said, looking from her face to the king's. "My lady, your new secretary and the head servants are waiting to meet their new mistress."
Elissa arched an eyebrow at such a rude dismissal; was the man truly underestimating her to such a degree, or was he trying to demonstrate his power over the king? In any case, there was no need to make an issue of it now. "Oh yes, certainly," she said with a cheerful smile. "Thank you for arranging it, my lord. Your Majesty, thank you so very much for the honour of your personal guidance." She laid her hand briefly over the king's arm, looking up into his now emotionless face.
He bowed briefly, no trace of his former smile on his face now. "My lady." Obviously there was a personal connection to Loghain's death that she had previously overlooked; stupidly short-sighted of her. Something else she made a note to look into.
Following Eamon she caught Fergus' eyes as she saw him outside in the corridor. He nodded to her briefly: message received and understood.
The meeting with the servants was very interesting indeed, Elissa thought in amusement, as she tried to guess who was paid to spy on the household by what noble. The secretary was clearly an employee of Arl Eamon's; it was the deliberation and the carefully worded non-answers that gave away the taste of an experienced politician. The personal maid chosen for her (an indignity in itself, as normally a noble bride would bring her personal servants with her to her new husband's home) was both terrified and calculatingly fawning, so clearly one of Franderel's plants. The under housekeeper, amusingly, might turn out worth keeping after a private talk with her; the intelligence in the elven woman's eyes might be worth her shady origin and double agents were always handy.
Eventually the amusement, what little of it there had been in the first place, had worn off, and Elissa asked to be escorted to meet her brother, taking care to seem a little overwhelmed and possibly even teary-eyed. It wasn't very difficult, as she was deep in thought and exhausted by needing to think in two directions at once.
The men, she noticed upon being brought to the downstairs hall they had retired to again, had been served refreshments in the meantime. Fergus threw her a wry look noticing her expression, but of course he could not offer her anything unless the king did first. The king, however, did not seem inclined to offer anyone anything, judging by his expression, unless it involved a pike outside the palace.
"Let us allow His Majesty to take leave of his betrothed in as much privacy as we can grant them, my lords," Fergus said pleasantly. "My sister is used to much smaller castles, I'm afraid."
Judging by Arl Eamon's face, the suggestion did not sit well with him, but he could not easily contradict a teyrn, even a young one. The four men walked to the other side of the room, three of them shooting the king and Elissa suspicious glances.
Turning her head to the side, Elissa gave the king an obviously artificial smile. "I have such a headache from saying one thing and thinking another," she murmured as quietly as she could; it wasn't even a lie.
The king's shoulder relaxed a fraction. "I thought you learned how to do this from the cradle?"
"There was a reason my father lived in Highever and not at court," Elissa replied.
"Promise me something," the king said suddenly.
Elissa made a conscious effort not to change her posture in any way. "Your M— what, Alistair?"
"Promise me that if you want something from me or are angry with me, you'll speak plainly. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder with you as well." She couldn't make out his expression.
"We promised to respect each other and trust each other," Elissa whispered. "If we both do that, it will be a relief to speak the plain truth to you – unless you grow tired of it. This morning I was told no sane man would want to marry me."
"Who said I was sane?" the kind said, too seriously for her liking. "And I think I like your brother."
"How did you—Maker's breath." Elissa sighed. "Inviting me to speak plainly, Your Majesty, is also inviting me to speak to you as I speak to him. Which, as per the law concerning your royal person, is forbidden to me."
"Oh, you call him names? That I have got to hear," the king said, a true, if small, smile coming back to his face. "Also, I thought we'd agreed that I have a name? Insignificant little thing, can get lost in protocol, but there you are."
"I grew up with a castle full of knights and veterans, Alistair," Elissa said, forcing her teeth to unclench. "If I had called my brother everything I wanted to, this morning, Arl Eamon would be looking for another bride already."
The king shook his head impatiently. "I don't care what Eamon wants. Look, I'm supposed to give a ball in your honour in two weeks."
Elissa nodded; that wasn't news.
"Can we meet after that and talk?" he continued, sounding almost desperate.
"I will think of something," Elissa promised, just as the four lords made their way back to them.
"I remember my wife being nervous before her wedding," Franderel said with false cheerfulness. "She got over it fast enough."
Elissa just curtseyed in order to hide her expression.
"Your Majesty, my sister and I are deeply grateful for the honour bestowed upon us," Fergus interjected, as usual reading her correctly.
"It was my pleasure, Teyrn Cousland," the king said with the proper – and yet somehow still wrong – lack of expression. "I hope to see you at the ball."
"Certainly, Your Majesty, and may I thank you again for your invitation," Fergus said, offering Elissa his arm.
"Such an honour, Your Majesty," Elissa said, not looking up.
They were silent on their walk through the freezing palace and even during the ride back. Elissa was too deep in thought to even be annoyed at the unusual saddle or the snail-like pace.
At Bryland's estate, after being told that the master was not yet back, Elissa dismissed the servants with a cheerful smile and a request for tea and food to be served, to their genuine horror, in her rooms.
Fergus followed her inside without a word and collapsed into an armchair. "There was a reason Father lived in Highever," he said glumly.
"Eamon presented me with a secretary and a maid," Elissa said with a thin smile, sitting down across from him.
"A personal maid of their choosing?" Fergus' eyebrows shot up. "They cannot think you'd be so stupid."
Elissa shrugged impatiently and then looked down at her gown. "Let me change into something normal," she muttered, and walked into her dressing room.
"I hope Bryland finds somebody suitable," Fergus said loudly enough for her to hear. "I'd hate to give you a Highever girl; we're short of servants as it is."
"I know," Elissa called back, struggling with tiny hooks of her bodice, "and most of them are fishermen's daughters, anyway. I'm more concerned about the secretary, to be honest. The one they presented me was well qualified; it will be difficult to get rid of him if Leonas doesn't find a good substitute."
"Bryland is unexpectedly good with finding trustworthy people," Fergus said, as Elissa, now wearing an old blue house dress, came back into the sitting room. "I'm more concerned about my future brother-in-law."
"What about him?" Elissa asked sharply.
"Calm down, brat; I actually thought he was a decent fellow, all things considered," Fergus said. "But they're eating him alive there. Eamon first, of course, but his influence is declining. He's treating him like a boy – which he is, granted, but he is also the king, by Eamon's hand or not, and Eamon would do well to remember it. The king could do worse than Sighard; that one was always an honest one, much to his wife's displeasure. But—"
"Franderel," Elissa said grimly. "I remember something about him. Something in connection with Urien's son…"
Fergus barked an unexpected laugh. "Do you know what happened to that creep Vaughan Urien in the end?"
"I'd assumed he died at Ostagar," Elissa said, not quite a question.
"Hah! His father decided to keep him safe in Denerim. And with Arl Urien away, he continued… well, you know what he liked to do. Eventually he was – imagine that! – killed by an elf from the Denerim alienage whose bride Vaughan abducted for one of his 'parties'. But, and this is the crazy part, you will never believe what happened to that elf."
Elissa's lips curled into a wry smile. "Let me guess. He was recruited by the Grey Wardens, survived Ostagar and went on to unite Ferelden, get the dwarves and the Dalish to fight besides us, and then killed the archdemon and ended the Blight."
Fergus gaped at her and blinked a few times before managing to close his mouth. "How—how did you know?"
"Alistair said the other Warden had been a city elf," Elissa said, her smile growing into a grin.
"Oh, it's 'Alistair', is it?" Fergus asked, waggling his eyebrows.
Elissa swatted at him tiredly. "Stop that. I'm more afraid for him than of him."
Fergus grew serious so quickly, she barely had time to blink. "Yes. And you are right about Franderel. He used to run with Vaughan's crowd. His tastes didn't stop at elf maidens, either." He rubbed his forehead wearily. "I know some families were paid off, but some were… silenced in other ways."
"I told the king to be careful around him. I'm not sure if playing our hand too early would be a good thing, here."
"No," Fergus said firmly. "Leave it until after you're married. It'll be safer that way." He sighed. "They spent most of the time trying to find out what my intentions were and whether I could be trusted to keep you in check when you were queen."
"And they told the king to curtail my power, when in the beginning I was sold as the sole answer to his political inexperience," Elissa said. "I don't think they'll try anything too drastic, but do be careful when hiring staff for the Highever Estate."
"They won't try to assassinate you; you have too much value as a Cousland," Fergus said. "But there might be Serious Talks."
"I don't mind those; that particular tool works both ways," Elissa replied. "I learn as much about them as they about me. I'm worried about him, however."
Fergus hummed absently in agreement. "There is something about his manner," he said eventually. "The court ways suit him about as well as they would any other soldier. He doesn't have the confidence to act smoothly, and knowing he is not playing his own role doesn't give him any more confidence. It might have been a deliberate tactic by Eamon, I think."
"I was thinking about that," Elissa admitted, sighing. "I can't see another way. He needs to learn to act, and he needs to learn quickly, as little as it may suit him. And you are right; it feels so very wrong."
"Hmm."
"What?" Elissa asked in vague irritation. "Don't hum at me. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking we are looking at it from the wrong angle... Oh, do stop hitting me, I'm getting there."
Elissa lowered her hand and arched an eyebrow.
Fergus grimaced. "If I talked as quickly as I thought, we'd be in Fort Drakon by now. Anyway, what I meant is, he needs something entirely different, I think. Everybody knows he is Maric's bastard and a Grey Warden; there is neither any need nor any way to hide it. So maybe we should forget the way we all act and look at it differently."
"Like what?" Elissa asked, intrigued. Fergus words rang true, certainly truer than the king's wooden playacting of the usual court behaviour, earlier.
"I don't know him well enough for concrete ideas, but you are starting to. He needs to develop another way; something that feels so natural to him that he can do it easily and gain confidence from it, but something that will also satisfy the foreign envoys and the Landsmeet. You'll need to discuss it with him, and soon."
"Yes," Elissa said slowly. "You are right. But it will be difficult."
Fergus snorted. "Yes, and Andraste was burned at the stake. Tell me something I don't know." He cocked his head, listening. "I think Bryland's just come in."
"Ask him if he wants to eat in here with us," Elissa said. "I think it's time for another strategy meeting."