Duty's Choice: The Bastards of Ferelden - Chapter 40

Let Union Be

9:36 Dragon, Spring 3, 21st day

The Chantry Hall of Highever Castle buzzed with anticipation. Servants, prominent members of the community, Grey Wardens and a few of Fergus's soldiers filled the room, but not to capacity. With only a few days notice, all the guests were local, but enthusiastic.

Elinora and Alistair occupied the front pew, Elinora holding Duncen, and Alistair keeping a close eye on Fergus. He was enjoying playing the traditional brother role, which including tackling the groom if he made a break for it. Cailin was stationed next to his chosen mother, as always. Petra was right behind them.

Maddox Dryden stood on the opposite side of the aisle, watching his soon-to-be brother-in-law closely. He had known before Fergus came back to Highever, and would stand quietly and menacingly by whatever his sister decided. Maddox was tall, dark and quiet until pushed too far. A runaway groom would be too far.

Fergus stood at attention before the altar, like a soldier waiting for orders. The only thing that gave away any nervousness was the occasional chew of his lower lip. Otherwise he seemed ready and eager.

Revered Mother Eartha, bent and weathered, knelt before the altar, Sybila behind her. The old woman rose to her feet with the young priest's help, turned, and awaited the bride.

Twyla entered as the guests got to their feet. She was resplendent simplicity in an elegant white gown and flowers in her hair, but her broad smile made her truly beautiful. She walked alone down the aisle, no need for an escort. Fergus's own smile grew as she drew closer to the altar, even if there was a little sadness to it.

Elinora knew what that sad tinge was. She had stood here ten years ago when Fergus had married Orianna. They had been so young and deliriously happy. It had been a big wedding, everything of the finest, and guests from all over. Elinora had served as an attendant to her sister-in-law, wearing the silliest dress that was the height of fashion. It had been very uncomfortable and she had to stand through the whole thing, the full two-hour ceremony. Today, Fergus and Twyla had selected the short version, and the guests were most grateful.

Even with the abbreviated ritual, Elinora started to fade about halfway through. Duncen hadn't let her sleep more than three hours together since his arrival, as was normal for newborns. Petra was encouraging her to let the servants take care of him sometimes, but Elinora didn't trust anyone but herself or Alistair with him. It left her exhausted. She nestled her head on Alistair's shoulder and tried to stay awake. Her thoughts drifted as Alistair's arm came around her shoulders, enveloping her in a warm halo of devotion.

Oddly, in the middle of all this joy, a gloom settled over her like a storm cloud.

Five years. Five years since she had killed the Archdemon. So much had happened since. Alistair was king and better one than expected. He had married and burned one wife and brought three children into the world. Elinora had traveled to the ends of the earth, gained the skills and title of Commander of the Grey, then returned home to take her command. She built her garrison and set off to build her force, and concurrently retuned to his side and bore the child they had dreamed of, but rarely spoken about. Too much had tried to come between them; lovers, gods and monsters.

But here they were.

Elinora looked at Alistair as Mother Eartha closed the ceremony, Twyla and Fergus sealing their union with an immodest kiss. Alistair's soft brown eyes met hers and a wicked grin spread across his royal face. He scooped Duncen from her arms and passed him to a mildly surprised Petra. Duncen issued a small squawk, which caught the attention of the bride and groom, who exchanged a covert glance.

Elinora started, "You're not thinking…"

"Oh, I most defiantly am." Alistair looked to Fergus, who looked to Twyla, who nodded.

Mutters rose from the assembled, including a yell of "Do it!" from somewhere in the back. Fergus and Twyla stepped aside as Aldo and Burion frog marched king and commander to the altar, not that they fought it.

Mother Eartha regarded the new couple before her and arched a wizened eyebrow. "About time." She cleared her throat and raised her hand to the heavens. "Andraste reached her hand to the Maker, and said 'I am your true bride, as you are my true husband. Our union cannot be unmade.' And so are the bonds between husband and wife…"

Elinora lost track of what the ancient priest was saying, too busy drowning in Alistair's adoring eyes. It was the same look he gave her every day, full of love and desire. The smile that swallowed his face glowed with affection and confidence. His hand held hers, warm and protective. Before she knew it, the ceremony was done and his lips pressed to hers, claiming her at last.

It was prefect.

"Sidonia always was too big for her breeches." Mother Eartha grunted a laugh and took another healthy swig of her wine. "One very well timed vision back in 95 Glory and this little slip of a girl becomes the next Divine."

The newlyweds, both sets, were enjoying a fine, if not extravagant, wedding feast. They mingled among their guests, though Alistair and Elinora sat down with their offciant in particular. And not to discuss marriage.

Alistair sipped his ale and raised an eyebrow at the old priest. "Did you know her?"

"Oh yes. Twenty-something and already a priest in one of the biggest and richest Chantries in Orlias, and that was before the vision. Once that happened it was nothing but 'Oh Sidonia this!' and "Oh Sidonia that!' As if she had any great insight."

"But she did," Elinora murmured. "She knew the High Dragon was a sign, of a Blight no less. And her vision wasn't wrong. Ashling came with the Grey Wardens as her army, we stood against her, but still, Ferelden has broken with the Great Cathedral." She squeezed Alistair's hand, knowing how much it had hurt him.

"Hmph. Visions and insight are two different things, girl. She sees what she wants to see, and she's seen herself to a nice fat estate of her own, a gift from the Empress for her devotion. If you ask me, she's the one behind this nonsense."

"Why do say that?" Alistair asked with forced casualness.

"Her father lost Ferelden. Meghern was squatting on the throne, but it was seen as the Emperor's loss, one that he railed about."

Alistair cocked his head to one side. "How do you know this?"

Eartha snorted again. "I was there, boy. Well, not in the room, mind you, but I was training in Val Royueax. Once Maric took Ferelden's throne, the Emperor shipped us out in hurry."

Elinora's brows knit. "How closely have the Chantries of Ferelden worked with the Divine since then?"

"Hardly at all, but I take it that changed with the young Grand Cleric you dislike so much?"

Alistair nodded. "She came from the Great Cathedral, chosen of Sidonia herself."

"Then you are well rid of her. Send her back to the Great Cathedral and let the Divine figure out what to do with her. In the meantime, Ferelden's priests will keep singing the Chant of Light, just like we always have, no matter how dark it got."

Elinora gave her husband a sidelong glance and sly smile. "Huzzah for that Ferelden independent streak."

Alistair returned his wife's grin. "Let's hope it holds through an Exalted March."

Sybila ambled away from Aldo to stand behind Mother Eartha's comfortable chair. "Exalted March? She wouldn't dare."

Alistair looked up at the young woman. "And why not?"

Sybila looked between Elinora, her king and the old lady greedily sipping her wine. "Uh, Haven."

Elinora and Alistair got the idea at the same time. They said nothing; Haven was still something of a secret and it was more secure that way. But they both came to the same realization: Andraste's Ashes could be the bargaining chip they needed to keep the Divine off their doorstep.

Or the perfect place for a first strike.

Alistair kicked open the door to Elinora's room and delicately carried a giggling wife and son inside.

"Ah, the honeymoon suite," he announced proudly, "only vaguely reminiscent of the room we woke up in this morning."

"Oh, you mean my room since childhood?" Elinora quipped.

Alistair grinned as he set her on her feet next to her rocking chair. "At least its not a tent or a corner in a cave somewhere. I took you to so many exotic locations during our courtship."

"You forget, my husband," Elinora pointed out as she settled in to feed Duncen, "that I was the leader of our little outfit. The responsibility was solely mine. A certain Grey Warden turned down his chance to lead us; something about waking up without any pants."

"Ah, my wife remembers the damnedest things." Alistair puttered about the room, removing bits of armor and digging up a burp cloth. "You sure you're up for a proper wedding night? Its not too soon?"

Petra entered with only a cursory knock as Alistair asked his question. "It would be if not for the skills of a most gifted healer."

Elinora snorted a laugh. "And modest too. Besides, when have we ever done anything properly?"

"Isn't that the truth," Alistair muttered.

Another knock at the door admitted Sten and a blushing Barth. "Sorry Commander, Petra said to come fetch the cradle."

Elinora's mouth twitched uncomfortably. "Right."

Petra pinned her with that authoritative glare she was so good at. "None of that. You agreed. Duncen stays with me tonight. It isn't much of a wedding present, but I can least give you two a night to yourselves."

"But…"

Petra laid a reassuring arm on Elinora's shoulder. "I'm three doors down."

Duncen finished his midnight snack with his usual burble. Alistair took him for a snuggle and burp before passing him off to Petra. "Come on boys," the mage said to the Wardens, "let's give the happy couple some peace."

Sten and Barth picked up Duncen's cradle, Sten muttering about being a warrior not a servant. Barth called out his congratulations as they left the room. With a warm smile, Petra pulled the doors closed behind her, leaving Alistair and Elinora alone.

"Alone at last," Alistair whispered, pulling his wife from her chair and into his strong arms. His soft eyes searched her luminous blue-green depths. "I love you, Elinora, my wife."

"I love you, Alistair, my husband."

His kiss started slow, a velvet caress, but it aroused a hunger that had gone unsatisfied for months. His mouth still locked on hers, Alistair lifted Elinora and carried her to the bed. She broke away as she landed, running a loving hand down his cheek, and then tugged at his belt.

Alistair straightened with a sensual smile. "My queen commands, and I obey." He pulled off the tunic he wore under his armor, ropey muscles displayed in the candlelight.

Elinora started wriggling out of her own dress. "I wonder if the Landsmeet will have to grant me that title before I've re-taken up my Warden duties." She cast aside her dress.

Alistair dropped a boot and stared at her, but his gaze wasn't taking in her lack of clothing this time. "Oh. Right. That." He looked uncomfortable. "Um, when were you planning on that?"

She crossed her arms over her swelled breasts. "Burion's ready to hand it over right now. He asked me about it yesterday."

"What did you tell him?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Not quite yet." She cocked her head, studying him. "Alistair, you know I'm going to continue to be Ferelden's Commander of the Grey, right?"

A small frown tugged the corners of his mouth. "Um, yes, I guess."

Elinora's eyebrows shot up. "You guess?"

"Well… I," Alistair realized he had stepped wrong, but had nowhere to go but forward. "I suppose I was hoping that you would give it all up and just… be my queen."

A flare of anger burned sudden and hot, but died out just as quickly. His hope wasn't about her abilities; it was about being together, building a family. Her face softened, the suspicion falling away. "I don't think either of us can just be anything." Her hands found his belt and drew him close. "I will be queen." She kissed his left cheek. "I will be commander." She kissed the right. "I will be wife." She kissed his throat, making him moan just a little. "And I will be mother to all our children, no matter who birthed them." She laid a final kiss on his chest, just above his heart.

Calloused fingers lifted her chin. "You will be you. Which is all I could ever want."

A long, sensual kiss led to a passionate night of wedded bliss, including the royal couple being able to sleep long past sunrise.

Perfect.