note: You all are so amazing, and I wish that I could reply back on here as easily as I can on AO3, but do know that I appreciate all of you and your comments. Writing can be a scary sort of thing, and it's wonderful to get back so much positive feedback. c:
i.
There is a swell of new faces in Vigil's Keep when Elissa finally makes her way inside (she spends an hour talking to Wade before she can even make it inside, and another hour getting an earful from her seneschal). It's worth it, to see their faces. There had been a time when it was just her and Alistair, the only two Wardens left in Ferelden.
Even her thoughts stutter over him. It's not a split. It's a needed separation. She has other duties besides being queen and wife, and the time away will do them good.
She already misses him terribly.
But seeing new Wardens, their ranks swelling? That's something she didn't imagine she'd see. They're not what they once were, from what she's learned. They're not the army that was lost at Ostagar, but she's proud to see what they are anyway.
"A bunch of ruffians, aren't they?"
Elissa turns, eyebrows raised. The girl who spoke steps up beside her, a slight frown tugging at her lips and a bitter look in her eyes. But she picks up the faint traces of fondness, too. She isn't a willing recruit, but she's also found a new family. In a second, Elissa already knows that she's going to like this girl.
They have a lot in common already.
When she turns to face her bunch of ruffians, she can't help but smile. Her stress doesn't disappear, but she feels more comfortable than she has in a long time around these people. Her people.
"And they'll make a fine bunch of heroes with the right sort of guidance," Elissa comments with a nod.
The girl narrows her dark eyes at Elissa, as if she's trying to figure out who she could possibly be. "Are you new here?"
"Oh, Maker no," Elissa laughs. She thrusts her hand out with a grin. "Elissa Cousland, Warden-Commander of this little hovel."
"You're the queen. Warden-Commander?" The girl's hands flutter, and she looks like she might explode with embarrassment, her face grows so red. It only makes Elissa grin that much more. "Forgive me, I - Nobody had warned that you were coming. There should be announcements, shouldn't there be? Preparations? I am not sure how the Fereldens do it-"
"You sound Ferelden," Elissa points.
"Yes, but I was recruited - That is to say, I was given to the Wardens somewhere near Kirkwall, so I am more of a Free Marcher now." A beat. "I still recognize you as my queen, though."
Elissa snorts. "And who are you, Free Marcher?"
Finally, the girl takes her hand, which is a blessing. It was getting pretty tired hanging in the air like that. "I'm Bethany Hawke."
"What brings you to Vigil's Keep?"
"I go where I'm told. There's a small party of us here for a week or two before we head out again." Bethany presses her lips together.
"What is it?"
"You're not what I was expecting when you hear talk of the Hero of Ferelden," she finally says and looks far too ashamed for having said it.
Elissa loops her arm through Bethany's, tugging her along with her through the hall. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll kill a few more of your expectations by the end of the night. Now how about a drink? I've had a tiring journey."
/
It turns out that Bethany's company includes Nathaniel. And it turns out that Nathianiel has just the thing to keep Elissa's mind off of her husband. Which is perhaps one of the things she shouldn't have been excited for.
Nate doesn't ask questions, though. He doesn't needle her for why she's back when she had been more than content to leave. She tells him anyway because it's not like he has anyone to tell. He looks distinctly uncomfortable throughout the whole exchange, but he offers to let her use his bow as his way of comforting.
It goes quite badly, but she does feel better about everything when it's all said and done.
And then they go back underground, the one place she doesn't want to be and knows she has to go.
ii.
"You love the woman."
"The whole world should know that I do," Alistair points out as he passes a few of his papers to Teagan. "It's not as though I've been keeping it a secret."
The older man tries to frown, but there's too much of a smile on his face to even properly be called a hint. "It's hard not to. She's a spitfire, that one. But you sent her away."
Alistair whips his head around so fast, the world spins for a second. "I didn't send her away."
"She's not here."
"You like her more than me, don't you?" He narrows his eyes as Teagan grins. "You're becoming a dirty old man."
"She is quite beautiful and charming."
"Are we talking about the same woman? My wife?" But she is. Beautiful, incredibly beautiful. Even with those bags under her eyes and each new scar that mars her skin. Alistair wonders if she misses him as much as he misses her. There's nobody to hold him at night when the nightmares resurface. More importantly, there's nobody to hold her.
But she is gone, back into the Deep Roads to search for something she was too afraid to write down on paper.
"Yes, your wife," Teagan teases, coming around and patting Alistair on his protruding gut. "Unlike some people I know, she seems to be taking care of herself."
"You're calling me fat."
"Something like that."
Alistair grins and watches him carefully. This old man is far too happy to make much sense. He pauses, rubs his hand over his mouth as Teagan settles back into a chair to look through the papers. "Who is she?"
"What."
"You're happy. And not like, why yes I have everything under control. No, no. This is the kind of happy where I know a woman's involved. Or a man! Is it a he? You know, I have a friend who also doesn't quite care about if you're a male or female. I doubt he'd make you happy. Probably drive you mad, actually," Alistair begins to ramble.
Teagan leans forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're usually so unobservant."
The king perches himself on the edge of his desk. "Actually, no. I just like to pretend I am. Do you know how tiring it is to be the leader of an entire country? One, where I will remind you, that I have to put together again."
"One that you will never actually stop reminding me," Teagan laughs. "It was my brother and Elissa who put you here. Stop accusing me like I'm at fault for your misadventures, Alistair."
"Well, I can't very well blame my wife. She's a little terrifying, if you hadn't noticed."
Maker, he misses her. He wants to mount an expedition right this moment and storm the caves beneath the earth so that he can carry her home. Or at least fight by her side. He should be with her, not that hook-nosed Nathaniel Howe.
"You're pouting."
"Am not." Alistair waves him off. "And you're changing the subject. Who is it?"
Teagan thins his lips out before sighing with exasperation. "You will not let it go, will you?"
"Not on your life."
"Isolde."
And that is the story of how Alistair ended up breaking a three hundred year old vase as he flailed uselessly at information he had already known would happen.
iii.
It's the drip of water that wakes Elissa up, a quick jerk of her body as her hand immediately goes for the sword resting next to her. It takes her a moment to realize there's no threat. There's just darkness and rocks and the snoring company of her fellow Wardens. She hunches over, running her fingers through her dirty hair with a sigh. Another nightmare. They're worse, down here.
Shadowed whispers that crawl through her veins and hiss in her thoughts. She wonders if that's what they hear, too, if Bethany feels the call of the darkspawn when she sleeps or if Elissa is special simply because she killed the last archdemon.
She bites her lip.
Her hands are tainted with an old god's blood, but not his soul. No, her soul is fine. She is alive. Tainted, sure, but alive.
In the Deep Roads, though, she feels the call of something dangerous. Like she could walk away and find peace in the darkness.
A heavy hand rests on her knee. "Are you alright?"
She cups her hand around Nate's, squeezing his fingers lightly. "Dreaming."
"Nothing pleasant, I imagine." His voice is barely a whisper, the same sound the water makes when it hits stone.
After a moment, she stretches back out on her sleeping mat. She rests on her side, facing him. "I don't like the dark," she whispers back.
"Big Hero of Ferelden, Queen, Dragon Slayer, Arl of Amaranthine, Warden-Commander-"
"Wouldn't it be Arless?"
"The point is, all that weight on your shoulders, and it is the dark that you don't like."
"Oh, amongst other things, I'm afraid."
He snorts, rolling over onto his back. "Regretting leaving Alistair now?"
"Always. But I don't regret this. I love this."
He's quiet a moment, and she thinks he might have fallen back to sleep except for the fact that he isn't giving that slight whistle of a snore that's his signature move. "You can't have both, Elissa. Grey Wardens-"
"I know this, but haven't you already noticed how many rules have been broken? How much is changing around us? I was a foolish girl."
"You're not that old yet, Elissa. You're still that foolish girl. Now you just have the fate of a nation and the fate of us in your hands." Nate looks at her, and she can just barely make out his face in the darkness. "What that group found out of Kirkwall, Bethany's sister and the Tethras expedition. It's changed things for us. Kirkwall is what we should be watching, and we both know it."
He's right. But she's always held that fate, as if the Maker has charged her with some grand destiny, and for what purpose? Why her, of all the people in Thedas? What has she done to make herself so worthy?
She buries her face in her arms. "Go back to Kirkwall. See what you can find about this red lyrium. See if you can't… uncover our old friend and what he has to say about it."
"You know I despise him. And beside, nobody knows where he could be."
"That's why I need you to go." She reaches out and touches his arm. "I can't be both, remember? I need for you to do it while I remain in Ferelden."
"So you are going home?"
"Yes."
iv.
She arrives in Denerim under the cover of night, as she always does, nine months after she first left. This time, though, she sent a letter home ahead of time. Alistair is waiting for her when she walks onto the grounds, sweeping her off her feet.
"Alistair-"
"I'm sorry," he says first, keeping her feet from barely scraping the dirt as he buries his face into the crook of her neck.
She squeezes her eyes shut. "So am I. I won't bring it up again."
Finally, her husband sets her down on her feet again, smoothing her hair from her face as he cups it. The look he gives her is one of nothing but love, and she's so glad to not see frustration in his gaze. "You silly woman. I am not against the idea of us being parents."
"Just against the idea of seeking an outside source for it."
"You matter the most to me, Elissa." His mouth is soft and inviting when he kisses her. She finds herself leaning against him in no time, hands on his waist, fingers under the hem of his shirt. "Nothing else."
"Good," she declares. "It would be a shame to not have my feelings returned exactly."
/
Their reunion is short lived, but at least this time it's not her that's going away.
"When you get home, I am going to absolutely ravage you, I hope you know that."
His face goes red, which delights her still. "Why wait?"
Elissa grins, finishing the last button. "Because you have a ship to catch, if I recall correctly. Not that I like it. Kirkwall isn't safe."
He takes her hands in his and kisses her knuckles. "You forget that I'm a warrior, don't you?"
"Who hasn't had reason to pick up his sword in some time. Do me a favor and train while you're on your journey."
"You worry too much."
She gives him a small smile. "I worry just enough when it comes to you."
Elissa watches him ride away with his entourage, a growing feeling of anxiety in her gut. Not for his safety, but for her own. This is the first time, she realizes, that she is the one on the throne, watching for Ferelden. He may play the dunce, but her husband is a far better politician than she could have ever hoped to be.
v.
She's not exactly a horrible queen, but she does manage to set an arless's dress on fire during a tea party.
vi.
Elissa has always hated tea parties.
vii.
The Champion of Kirkwall is not exactly what Alistair has expected when she escorts him into the shadiest bar he's ever seen - and he's been in the Pearl. She's rough, crude, sassy. That's right. Sassy. She's likely what Elissa might have been had she been a commoner herself.
It's enough to give him a headache, of course.
"So, what is the King of Ferelden doing here in Kirkwall?" Hawke asks him, slamming down a dirty mug in front of him.
Perhaps being king has made him soft, because he suddenly wishes for a clean glass and cleaner booze. Once, he wouldn't have cared so much. He's never had rich tastes. Actually, he's pretty sure that if Elissa were here, she'd be drinking it down as heartily as this Hawke.
So he does, all in one swoop.
The woman next to him grins and pats him on the back when he begins to choke. "I should have warned you to take it easy maybe? I've killed a lot of things, but I don't know if I want to add 'king' to the list."
"I think it would take a little more than terrible alcohol to kill me. It's the Grey Warden thing. Makes us hardy against little things."
"Or it makes you more vulnerable with that sort of attitude. Next thing you know, you're tripping onto a sword." Hawke rubs her stomach, as if she's talking from experience.
He has heard rumors about her fight with the Arishok, and now he squints at her as if he's going to see through her clothes. His face flushes at the thought. No, no, he doesn't mean like that.
"So, why are you here?"
"Oh, you know, traveling. That sort of thing. Checking up on how Kirkwall is going. Three years is quite some time without a leader. It makes everyone a little antsy."
"It's not Warden stuff?"
"Maker, no, Elissa takes care of all that."
But she's looking at him like she knows he knows something. He tries to wrack his brain, but can't quite come up with anything. Not that he's likely to tell her anyhow. Warden business is exactly that. What Kirkwall has to offer for him at the moment is strictly political and the threat it will pose to Ferelden.
Hawke is quiet, making quick work of her drink and ordering another round for the both of them. Her smile is harder than Elissa's but there's the same kind of sadness that lingers in the corners. He knows that kind of pain. He's felt it. More importantly, he has seen it on his wife's face since the first moment they met. The Champion is not what he expects because the Champion is as much of a myth as the Hero of Ferelden is. Here before him is the real story, the face of the legend.
"I hear your sister is a Warden. Is that why you're worried?"
Hawke stills for a second, and she gives herself away with the slight jerk of her body, the forced laugh, the widening of those electric eyes. Alistair isn't the most observant, he'll admit it, but being king and dealing with the court, well… It makes just about anyone take notice of the small things.
"You Wardens give us a lot to worry about, what with your impending death sentences."
Alistair laughs. "Elissa met her, I believe. Said she was a good mage. You should be proud of the kind of service your sister is doing for Thedas."
"I am," Hawke answers softly. "I just wish things could have gone differently."
"Don't we all."
viii.
Elissa threads her fingers through Alistair's as they lay side by side on the bed. "Kirkwall is a threat."
"No doubt about it, but a smaller one."
"Smaller than what, exactly? Templars running the show, blood magic running rampant through the streets, red lyrium."
"The red lyrium isn't a problem if even the Wardens can't find it now. We should leave it be, it's none of our concern."
Elissa bites her lip. "I have a bad feeling, Alistair. When I was in the Deep Roads…" She sighs, her breath brushing against his cheek. "It felt like I could hear something in there."
Concern twists his face. "You're too young to hear the Calling."
"There is no age limit on it, Alistair. But I doubt it was the Calling. There was something more to it. Things are beginning to happen. Weisshaupt has stopped answering my letters. I can't find the Architect. I haven't heard from Nate."
Alistair pulls her closer, his lips pressing to her forehead. "We've stopped a Blight together. There's nothing we can't do."
ix.
Anders blows up the chantry in Kirkwall, and the world falls to shit.
Kirkwall falls to shit first, and then the mages.
"It's my fault," Elissa whispers to nobody in particular. She can't shake the feeling, that if she had tried harder, if she could have saved Anders and Justice both.
x.
"The mages have rebelled from Kinloch Hold, your majesties," a templar tells them, bowed at the waist with his fist to his chest.
"Where is the Knight-Commander Greagoir?" Elissa demands from her throne.
The templar hesitates. "Well… Rebelling with them. He opened the doors for First Enchanter Irving, after all."
Alistair laughs, and Elissa shakes her head. "That's not surprising."
What is surprising is the way the mages and templars turn on each other so violently.
xi.
And in the midst of a growing epidemic, Alistair comes to Elissa with a letter in hand and a haunted look on his face.
"I have to leave."
"Alistair?" She reaches for the papers but he dances out of her reach. Curse her for getting him back into shape again, fighting fit and trim.
"My father-" Her husband makes a choking noise, as if he's unsure what to say now.
Her shoulders slump. She has run off countless times and left him here to figure out his own way. This is important to him. When she steps up to him this time, he doesn't jerk away, and she smooths her hand over his hair, his face, down his arm until she can take the letter from him and read for herself.
In the end, she kisses him.
"Go."
xii.
He does.