Amaranthine 9:32

Seven months after the end of the Fifth Blight

"So how long were you living up here, all alone?" Maebh asked Avernus as she carted in yet another bucket of soapy water. Her daily attempts to erase the older mage's crimes had little effect, but that didn't deter her efforts.

"Only a few months."

She knelt down and dipped a brush into the bucket. "I hardly think your test subjects count as company."

Avernus was silent as Maebh set to scrubbing the bloodstains. "I honestly cannot say. Over a hundred years, certainly. Probably more than one hundred fifty."

The shush-shush of the brush in Maebh's hand slowed as she considered this. "When did you stop minding it?"

"Minding what?"

"Being alone." She redoubled her efforts.

Again Avernus was silent as he considered her question. "I don't remember ever minding. I had my research."

"And that was enough? You didn't miss having friends?"

"What I had was enough."

She dipped the brush back in the water and rubbed the spot dry with a rag. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I made use of the results then, isn't it."

"I stopped caring about considerations such as 'good' and 'bad' a long time ago. You did not waste resources. I suppose one could call that 'good' if one so desired."

The brush went shush-shush against the stones. "Yes. Waste not, want not."

There was a knock on the door. Maebh leapt up and ran to the over, not wanting whoever dared disturb her in the Mage's Tower to learn of Avernus's existence. She opened the door to see a frazzled Levi Dryden, obviously at his wit's end.

"Warden," he said, eyes wide. "The King!"

"What about him, Levi." She crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"A letter, for you!" He waved a letter.

"Let me see it." She took the letter from him and read.

Maebh,


Denerim is driving me mad. I'm coming to see you. I would have asked, but I know you would only tell me to stay away. Too bad for you that I can think of a dozen reasons why I can and should ignore whatever you might say about the matter. By the time you get this I will have already left. It should still take me over a week from the time you receive this to when I actually manage to get there, so fair warning. If you could be a dear and plan for a darkspawn raid or bandit attack or something, so I could prove to myself I haven't completely lost all my fighting skill since my coronation, I would appreciate it.

Yours,

Alistair

P.S. If you could also arrange for some pressing (and incredibly dangerous to boot) mission for your father to be sent on, that would be lovely as well.

"Damn," she muttered. "Levi, I'll need your help. We have to get the Keep ready."

Maebh cleared her throat and stood up. "I have an announcement."

Thirteen pairs of eyes were turned to her, and thirteen pairs of ears listened expectantly. She swallowed. "I received communication from the King today. He will be visiting us soon, here at the Keep, in just over a week. I don't know for how long he intends to stay, but we must prepare accordingly. That's... that's all." She sat back down and gulped a mouthful of wine.

"Why, that is wonderful news!" gushed Ghislaine.

Loghain snorted. Maebh grimaced. "Yes, yes, it is quite an honor, I suppose." She mumbled.

"But," and Ghislaine tilted her head in the most charming fashion, "Wasn't your king your constant companion while you battled the Blight? I would have thought the two of you should have become at least friendly to one another under the circumstances."

Renaud fixed a look of significance on Ghislaine and shook his head slightly. She blushed, which only made her more appealing. "Oh, forgive me, I did not mean to intrude."

"No, it is quite alright. We were, or we are, rather … very good friends."

Loghain stabbed his meat with unnecessary force.

"I just don't know if the Keep is quite up to royal standards," Maebh continued, latching onto a change of topic.

"Commander, I would not be concerned. If you truly are such good friends, he will not mind that things are still, how do you say, rough around the edges. Did he not come from humble beginnings himself? I'm sure he will simply be pleased to see you," Renaud patted her hand.

"Yes, of course. How silly of me to think otherwise."

Maebh was pacing on the bridge between the main part of the Keep and the Mage's Tower when Renaud found her.

"Commander," he hailed her. "It is time for our ride."

"Oh, I can't. I have to watch for the King."

Renaud paused, considering his words carefully. "I am afraid Citrouille and Bonbon will not understand the importance of your guest. Horses are like that, you know? They must be exercised or..." he threw his hands up, "they will become quite unmanageable."

Maebh twisted her hands. "But what if he arrives while we are out? I can't make him wait."

"Why not?"

"Well... he's the King?"

"Commander, we are Grey Wardens. We answer to no king, only our own ranks. And in that regard, do you not outrank him?"

Maebh turned and looked toward the main gate. "I suppose I do at that. I... Yes, maybe it would be good to get out there for a while."

He took her arm, eyes twinkling. "Plus, once you have been out in the air a bit your cheeks take on the most delightful blush."

Maebh's eyes flew wide. "Renaud!"

"Simply making an observation, Commander," he replied with a rakish grin as they walked to the stables.

They returned two hours later, Maebh doubling over with laughter as she dismounted. "No, never again! I refuse to attempt a trot ever again!"

"Bah," Renaud scoffed. "You simply must practice more. Once you get the rhythm down it is quite enjoyable."

She held the back of her head. "You are a liar, Renaud. That was terrible! I am certain I just jarred my brain out the back of my skull. I will be keeping my eye on you, ser. So polite, all 'Commander' this and 'Commander' that. But now I know the truth."

"Commander, you wound me with your cruel, cruel words!" he protested with a laugh and a stabbing motion made with his fist into his chest.

She winced as she tried to straighten her posture. "I'm going to tell Loghain this is all your fault when he tries to scold me for slouching, just so you know." She took a deep breath, winced, giggled one last time, and then looked around. "Where's Daralis?"

They were both quiet as they looked around for the normally ever-present stable master. It was then that Maebh heard unfamiliar voices from the courtyard. "Oh Maker," she grumbled and darted out.

All the inhabitants of the Keep, the Drydens and all the Wardens save Maebh and Renaud, had already gathered to greet the King. Even splattered in the mud from the road, his golden armor gleamed in the sun so that it hurt Maebh's eyes. He was obviously enjoying himself, shaking hands with the Drydens and bowing in the Warden salute to the Orlesians. Maebh held back. Renaud caught up to her. "Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not, not at all." She smoothed her robes and straightened her shoulders, all while trying to adopt the gliding stride of her sister as she walked down the hill toward the courtyard. The attempt turned into a miserable failure when Alistair looked up. He grinned and winked at her, and not two seconds later she tripped over a stone. Maebh would have fallen flat on her face if Renaud had not caught her elbow.

"It would seem that there are many areas where the ground is dangerously uneven, Commander," the Orlesian warden muttered to her.

"Thank you," she replied softly, pulling her arm out of his hand.

The crowd hushed as she approached, and Maebh realized with no great surprise that Loghain had not joined with the rest of them. She plastered a perfectly neutral smile on her face, stopped, and bowed in the Warden salute. For his part, Alistair kept a respectful distance and returned the chaste gesture. "Please, Your Majesty, allow me to welcome you to Soldier's Peak," Maebh greeted him with diplomatic calm. "Will you accompany me on a tour of the grounds?"

"Thank you, Commander, that would be lovely. From what I've seen so far, it is quite nice." His tone was equally neutral.

"Shall we, then?" She turned and gestured towards the Keep. Renaud stepped aside and allowed Alistair to walk next to the Warden Commander. Alistair's retinue of guards followed, an irritating tail tacked onto an already difficult task. "You think you're in danger of an ambush, Your Majesty?"

He grinned. "I believe I was quite clear in my letter, was I not? I admit, these kingly decrees have taken time for me to get used to."

She rolled her eyes, pretense weakening as the distance between them and the rest of the crowd grew. "Oh, please."

"Fine, fine." He turned to his guards. "It's quite alright. You're, um, dismissed for now. Perhaps it would be more effective if you remained out here, you know, making sure the grounds are secure, and stuff."

The captain of the guard nodded, and the two were allowed to walk alone into the Keep. Maebh shut the door behind her, and stood facing him in the main hall, heart pounding in her chest.

"'And stuff'? You sure weren't kidding about those kingly decrees." Maebh said, crossing her arms and glaring at the man she had handed Cailan's armor and throne.

"I'd like you see you do any better. Maker's Breath it's good to see you again…"

"I find myself caring less and less about naming things 'good' or 'bad'." She'd have to thank Avernus for that one. "So, tell me. What brought this on?"

He looked at her tenderly, took a step toward her, slowly took off his gauntlets, ran his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back. "Do I need a reason?" he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

Maebh started back when she heard a step on the staircase. They both turned to see Loghain standing on the landing with Sal, frowning. "I'm taking the dog out for some exercise," he declared in a clipped tone.

Maebh looked down and blushed furiously. Sal came bounding down the stairs well ahead of Loghain, who was taking his time descending. The dog spun in circles in front of Alistair, tongue lolling and backend wagging so hard he almost knocked himself over. Alistair crouched, rubbing the dog all over while bestowing copious "Who'sagoodboys! You'sagoodboys!" and other such ridiculous dog-talk. His Majesty was seemingly unfazed by the waves of disapproval rolling off of his father-in-law.

Loghain finally reached the door, fixed Maebh with a withering glare, and whistled to Sal. The dog immediately obeyed, heeling as Loghain strode out the door and slammed it behind him.

Maebh let out a long, slow breath and pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks. "Oh Maker."

Alistair pulled her hands away from her face and pressed them to his lips, smiling beneath her fingers and crinkling his eyes impishly. "I expect to hear that again before I leave."

"You are a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad man," she pouted. "Come, you wanted a tour? You're going to get one." She grabbed his hand and began to drag him to the next room. "In here, you will find the kitchen."

"Very nice."

"Yes, it is. And over here you will find the armory."

"Charming."

"Isn't it just? And up these stairs you will find, among other things, my office and a disturbingly large stockpile of raspberry jam."

"Now, that sounds interesting."

"Oh, does it? It's just an office. See? I have some bookshelves and a closet and, yes, a door that locks and a desk and a window that, yes, has drapes that shut."

"Well I meant the jam, but yes, I can see the… appeal of your office. Come here. I need help with my armor." He sat in her chair so she could reach the buckles. It was the only chair in the room, Maebh reminded herself when she felt a flicker of territorial petulance. She made quick work of the shoulder buckles, the armor more for show than actual protection. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her deeply. "Why are you trembling?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.

"I... I don't know," she admitted. "I just... I missed you. It's so lonely here. I can't talk to anybody, not like I could with you. I'm always worried about saying or doing the wrong thing and they all need me to lead them and I just don't know what I'm doing."

He held her tighter. "I understand. Are you still unsure as to why I came here?" He looked at her and pushed her hair away from her neck. "Forget them," he said and kissed her. "Just be with me, right now," his hand began to drift up her leg.

She placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him up so that she could look into his eyes. There were creases forming around them that were not there before. His face was fuller, the result of better food and sleeping in the same place every night. His hint of a beard was more carefully trimmed, and his hair had been made to be absolutely perfect. She looked into his eyes deeper, and the kingly edifice dropped away and she was presented with the same young man she had met nearly two years ago. A young man who was confused and scared and not sure whom he could trust and certain he was not up to the role he was being called upon to fulfill. The one person who understood, who had been there and seen the same terrible things and made the same terrible choices and told the same terrible lies.

Still, he had not seen everything she had seen. He had not told all the lies she had told. He didn't know that she was still lying to him, here and now. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him fiercely, hiding her most recent deception. He smiled against her lips and lifted her up on the desk, pushing away the papers and inkwells and maps and teacups that had accumulated. "You are making a mess!" she gasped. "Who's going to clean that up?"

He pushed her robes up, and began to pull down the short pants underneath. "Don't you have servants? That's what they're for you know. That's the trade-off. You don't get to wander off whenever you want, but you do get to make somebody else clean up when you throw some papers on the floor."

She wrapped her legs around his hips. "Something tells me I won't be asking one of the Dryden boys clean up this particular mess," she said with a wicked smile.

"You minx," he teased and unlaced his own trousers.

She reached down and traced a finger lightly along his length. "You don't need much convincing, do you?"

"You're surprised? After you came back from Maker-knows-where with that Orlesian all... glowy, like a glowing thing."

She leaned back and grinned. "You're jealous! Really?"

"Well, what do you expect? I haven't seen you in what... six months? A long time. And then he touches you..."

"He caught my arm so I didn't fall flat on my face."

"Yes, well. I suppose that can be excused."

She giggled. "You're ridiculous."

"And lucky for me, you have a weakness for ridiculous men."

"Guilty as charged," she sighed as he pulled her close and he slowly entered her. He placed a hand flat between her shoulder blades, supporting her weight as she arched away from him. "Oh Maker," she moaned as he filled her.

"I thought I'd hear that again."

She curled her fingers, digging her nails into his biceps. "Would you stop, already?"

He withdrew from her. "Really? You truly want me to stop?" He was almost bubbly.

"Maker's Breath," she cursed and tightened her legs around his waist. "Do you want me to go find Renaud? I'm sure I could convince him to do this properly."

"No, no," he said, voice gravelly as he glided into her again. "I don't want you anywhere near him, let alone speaking his name." He kept one hand on her back as he wrapped the other around her waist and buried himself in her. She hooked her ankles together and pressed her heels into the small of his back, her want for him so intense she was nearly breathless.

It was not sweet or gentle, nor was it a harsh battle for dominance. It was raw need, a desperate desire to feel close to somebody, to feel supported and understood. They moved together, she was unwilling to let him withdraw enough to do anything else. She clung to him, tight, like she could make him stay if her knuckles were white enough, if her teeth clenched hard enough.

But it ended. It had to, eventually. She held him within her as he reached his inevitable conclusion, already feeling empty and alone. Slowly he removed himself, and she saw her haunted look mirrored in his eyes. "We should get dressed and ready for dinner. They'll get suspicious." She said dully.

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Actually, now's as good a time as any to tell you the real reason why I came."

Her mouth quirked, but she decided against making the obvious joke. "So? Spill."

He looked down as he laced his trousers. "I got a letter from the Anderfels. They had... quite a bit to say but the part that concerns you is, well, they think you should be dead."

Maebh jumped to her feet and grabbed her short pants from the floor. "Oh, do they?" she asked in her practiced neutral tone, mind racing.

"Yes, and they had an explanation as to why you should have died. Maebh, I don't know what you did."

"I didn't do--" she protested.

"And I don't care, to be honest," he continued. "I already know what I'm going to do: I'm going to play dumb. That is my specialty, anyway. And in this case, it just also happens to be true. I wasn't there. I just thought you should know that they're asking questions. You need to be prepared for when they start asking you. Now, help me get this stuff back on." He sat on the chair and Maebh lifted the breastplate over his head.

"How long are you going to be staying?" she asked, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice.

"I'm leaving the day after tomorrow."

She paused. "So soon?"

He frowned. "I promised Anora I wouldn't, um, linger," he mumbled.

She lifted her chin. "Of course."