Epilogue: Hear My Song

"Hear my song:
It'll help you believe in tomorrow
Hear my song:
It'll show you the way you can shine
Hear my song:
It was made for the time
When you don't know where to go
Listen to the song that I sing.
You'll be fine."

**
The Denerim estate appeared to be a cold one; it was an almost archaic stone building with quite an eerie look from the outside. Any passerby with next to no knowledge of its inhabitants might shiver and pull their travelling cloak around their body.

The insides of its halls where decorated in a plush and earthy green, an almost different world to its exterior. Inside those halls roamed a young woman. She let her small slippered feet hit the rug-covered stone floor in search of whom she was looking for, gathering her skirts for better access as she went.

Her long brown hair was tangle-free for once, looking freshly brushed and swept to her back, and there was a tired look that hung in her tired almost-grey eyes. By her demeanour, it looked as if even she had been decorated to match the interior design, and she walked as if she knew exactly that.

The elderly servant in front of her looked over his rather crooked shoulder, trying to speed up when he noticed who was tailing him.

"Hey!" She yelled. "Recro!"
The elderly man didn't stop, even when she caught up with him.
"Where are you going in such a hurry, Recro?" She teased, slightly out of breath from the charging through the halls she had just done to find him. She was a lot taller than the man; she was quite tall compared to most women, and Recro had started to become frail with age.

"Oh, my Lady Salvia, I-I didn't hear you," he twirled his cane. "Horrible hearing."
"Oh, don't be so uptight, Recro. And there's quite no need to bother with this 'My Lady' or 'Your Highness' business, either," she paused for a moment, bracing herself as she hooked an arm through his. "I need your help."
The man turned properly to face her and quickly turned away again, making a gesture that was like that of one trying to shield their eyes from evil.
"I should think the last time I 'helped' you I got into rather a lot of trouble with your Father," he grumbled. "And where are you go dressed so...?" He trailed off with an accusing tone, waving his cane to accentuate what he could not bring himself to say.

Salvia looked down at herself, moving her arms dramatically. "What? Things have changed since your day, old man. It's only about the same length as my leather armour, and you've seen me in that!"
Recro paused to glare at her in the eye. "Yes, but this is different. Go and get changed, you'll get us all in trouble again."
"Ah, well see, that's what I need you for," she paused again. "Now you're not going to like this, but I just need to nip outside for, er, a bit. I need you to tell my Father that I've been with you for the past few hours or so a-"
"Oh dear Maker." He interjected.

Foots echoing in the narrow stone hallway could be heard around the corner, familar voices following soon after. Salvia knew she was done for.
"Uh oh...quick, Recro, er, help me think of a plan."
The servant looked like he was doing no such thing as Salvia panicked, gesturing to him in an unbeknownst and frantic manner.
"Oh Maker!" She exclaimed when she heard the sound of footsteps grow too close. She quickly hightailed it back to Recro, trying to hide her guilt by subtly stepping half-behind the man. Recro sighed outwardly.

The two men she failed in trying to avoid this particular day rounded the corner, the older man animatedly telling the younger a tale, by the look of it. He stopped, and both men ceased in their footsteps to stare at the scene in front of them.

Recro spoke up, his over-used voice hoarse with age and supressed anger.
"Good evening, Ser Morbray. Your Majesty." He addressed the men as if it was quite normal to have a rather tall princess hiding behind the estate's oldest servant, looking well as if she believed she was well hidden.

"Recro..." the older man trailed off in his speech. Recro noted that he looked quite a bit older today, especially to when he had first saw him all the years prior at the now often exaggerated Landsmeet. The king took a few steps away from the younger man in the direction Recro blatantly staring over his head at Salvia. He cleared his throat. Salvia looked up from her position as if she had just spotted the, begrudgingly stepping out to stand beside Recro.

"Father. Ser Morbray." She tried to echo Recro's officious tone despite the scenario.
The King's eyes widened almost as quickly as the tips of the tousle-haired Ser Morbray's ears turned a bright red.

"Dear Maker!" Alistair gasped. "Where on earth are you going dressed like that, Salvia?"
Her stomach dropped. She knew he meant business because he used his "I-brought-you-into-this-world-I-know-just-how-to-embarrass-you" voice.

"I was..." she decided to keep the peace for once. "I'm going back to get changed. Recro already persuaded me to."
Recro looked up at the mention of his name, looking rather sheepish.
"Oh...yes." Recro offered.

Aistair looked between the two unlikely friends. "Hmm, well then. I suggest that would be the best thing to do, you'll catch your death like that. And besides, you're hardly old enough to dress-"
Salvia interrupted him quickly before he embarrassed her. "Okay, okay, Father. I will, er, right now."

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek in the manner of which a small child would, partly because she knew it was her bargaining chip. She ceased to resist the urge to wink at the rather nervous Morbray as she headed back down the corridor in the direction of her quarters.

"That girl will be the death of me." Alistair piped up. The other men didn't reply, but there was a sense that they all agreed.

**
Salvia looked up from the book she was reading when she heard a knock on her door. Her waiting maid, Letrya, had left about an half hour before to run some errands, and must be back early, Salvia mused.

She plonked down her book on the end table next to her, crossing the room and regretting taking off her footwear. Her brow furrowed when she spotted who was not there.

"Morbray!" She grinned. "Come in, Letrya's out."
She pulled him inside the quarters before he had much chance to object to it, or object to the usage of his surname. Salvia wasted no time, standing on her tip toes to kiss the young man. Her hands went to his face, him not objecting as his arms found their own way to her waist.

He eventually pulled away before she could deepen things.

"Your Father, I think he knows something. About us." He gulped.
"Nonsense! I think I'd know if he did." Salvia refused to stop her kisses now, resuming them without hesitation. The young man was forced to speak around them.
"Yes. I don't think we should...you're the princess."

Salvia stopped for a moment. "And you're a Knight. Exciting, isn't it?"
Morbray laughed in spite of himself, gently touching the touching the exquisite purple feather she always had on a delicate thread around her neck.

She looked at his hand as he did, before raising her eyes to his, hers seeming heavily lidded from her eyelashes and emotion. Instead of kissing him, or forcing herself to be some seductive character, she rested her head on his shoulder. Morbray's arms fell around her waist.

They were unsure of how long they stood like that, in peace, as cliché as it would sound to even suggest aloud.

A cough sounded from the suddenly open doorway. Salvia's elven lady-in-waiting and confidant stood in the doorway, fresh linens in her arms. The young woman was about the same age as the princess. They had been quite close since Salvia had came to Denerim, probably as they were both new and out of their depths.

"Excuse me, my Lady." She offered, trying to hide the smirk that was forming on her lips as she crossed to the bed.

"Ah, yes, Letrya. Morbray was just...dropping off," Salvia looked around the room almost frantically "a new sword!"
She held up one resting on a plush armchair next to her.
"Yes, I bet he was, ma'am." The elf quipped, quickly exiting the room with her now-empty basket, a furiously blushing Morbray following her, trying to smile at Salvia as he did.

She returned the smile before shutting the door behind them. She crossed the room again silently, staring at the now-empty chair by the wide window left from the sword's resting place. Throwing the sword on the bed, she allowed herself to collapse into the chair. She looked out onto her perfect view on the townspeople going about their daily business and felt a strange emotion. Salvia pondered on the situation. She loved her life, but there was guilt and grief and regret. And, of course, doubt; in herself and her relationship with Morbray.

She placed her elbow on the windowsil, massaging her aching temple gently. Salvia looked around the room to ensure she was definitely alone.
"Oh mother," she whispered, to no one in particular. "What would you do?"