A/N:Okay, this chapter was not fun, in the least, to write. I ended up scrapping a majority of it twice, and I'm still not pleased. (Here's a thought: don't indulge in a marathon viewing of the TV show Deadwood before sitting down to write fantasy based fiction….all you end up with is far too many swear words and Alistair with a Midwestern mining accent.) But none the less, here it is.
Trigger warning: there is a small bit of domestic violence in this installment. (Not from Alistair! From the new big-bad of the world)
Also, as odd as it may seem, in the middle ages swan truly was a delicacy fit for royalty. Henry the VIII was once given an entire stuffed swan that only he was allowed to partake in.
She should be here was the only thought in Alistair's head and he rode through the now pristine streets of the Alienage. Every façade of every building shone bright and clean in the afternoon sun, and kitchen gardens were in full bloom, women joyfully collecting the spoils of a healthy growing season with smiles on their faces. He felt a stab of guilt as he surveyed the improvements; there were still parts of Denerim that were struggling to recover from the blight, and yet this quarter looked as if it had never been touched by the mayhem and destruction. The nobility had grumbled throughout the construction, murmuring behind privileged hands how deplorable it was that such a poor, inferior section of the city receive such generosity. Eamon had even asked him to reconsider his edict, but Alistair had steadfastly refused. He had broken far too many promises to Harlow, he intended to see at least one of them through; if, for nothing else, to prove to her that he could. And so it was that he rode amongst the spoils of his word, fiercely wishing that she was present to see that such a thing could still be counted on.
"What do you think, Your Majesty?" a pleased voice called to him, breaking him free of his brooding.
"It doesn't matter what I think, Shianni," he said with a soft smile, "your opinion is the one that matters."
"You learn fast for a shem," the brash and grinning elven woman replied. "Get down off that horse and have a drink with me."
"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. Shianni let out a throaty chuckle and motioned for him to dismount.
"I wouldn't be the first," she said with a grin as they made their way to her front door. As the door swung open soundlessly on freshly oiled hinges, Shianni hesitated and turned to him with serious eyes. "My cousin sent a letter," she said gently, "I didn't know if you'd want…."
"No," Alistair said, his voice tight and controlled, "I mean-I would like to hear of her."
Shianni nodded and the pair escaped into her dwelling to discuss matters of politics and lovers past. Unbeknownst to them, a trio of elves watched their exchange with dull and angry eyes.
"Do you see how even she cow-tows to the filthy nobility?" one asked, the words bitter on his tongue.
"I never doubted you, Mortain, Shianni's been thick as thieves with the king since he granted her request to rebuild the Alienage," another by the name of Simon replied.
"Yes," Mortain sneered, "such a lovely consolation prize for selling our kind into slavery."
"Technically, Loghain and Howe were the ones behind-" the lone female amongst the group interjected only to be silenced with fierce glares.
"As if that matters, Sabine!" Mortain hissed, "That shemlan was all too aware of what those fucking slavers took from us, and in the two years since his reign has he ever tried to reclaim what was lost?"
"You came back to us," Sabine whispered meekly, her eyes downcast.
"Yes, I did," he replied, raising a hand to lay softly upon her cheek, "for you, my sweetling." When she ventured a hesitant smile his face turned hard and his fingers suddenly dug into her tender flesh, fixing her jaw like a vice. "Only to find that the coin paid for my freedom came from my wife spreading her legs for the shem in a fucking brothel!"
"It was the only way to raise to raise the gold," she wailed, "the price on you was set too high!"
"You defiled yourself," her husband hissed.
"Mortain," Simon said gently as he bid his enraged friend to release his whimpering wife. The elf did so with a harsh shove and Sabine went sprawling to the ground, silent tears marking a path down her cheeks.
"This cannot stand," Mortain muttered, turning back to stare once more upon Shianni's door. "Something needs to be done."
~oOo~
Never in her life had Elissa been forced to sit through such an awkward meal. At least the food is up to standard she thought wryly as she dug into her second helping of swan. She was told the bird had been prepared as a token of welcome for her on behalf of her soon to be husband, but considering the icy reception she had received that afternoon Elissa was more than convinced the elaborate meal had been Eamon's brainchild. In the end it did not matter who had bestowed the gift upon her, never in her life had she had cause to taste such a delicacy and she relished the tender meat that seemed to melt on her tongue.
"I see you have a healthy appetite about you, my Lady," Eamon said with a smile, "You will find Alistair does as well. I expect to find you both raiding the castle larder in the dead of night if I am not mistaken."
"If I appear to be ravenous I can only say it is because of the delicious offering you have set before me," she replied sweetly, " never before have I been blessed with such a delectable feast. Don't you agree, Fergus?"
Fergus, for his part, was looking a bit green around the edges and simply nodded in agreement, his eyes gone glassy. Elissa hid a smirk behind her hand, clearly the swan was not sitting well with her dear brother but he was far too concerned with social niceties to refuse such a bounty.
"His Majesty is most generous to gift me with such a magnificent meal," Elissa continued politely as she glanced down the table at the withdrawn man idly picking at his food. When Alistair barely registered her words Eamon coughed into his hand, startling the King into attention.
"Oh yes," he said absently, "you are most welcome. Although, I'm quite sure that a dead bird is the best way to earn a place in your esteem." Despite herself Elissa couldn't help but smile at the words. Perhaps she had simply caught the man in a bad moment and Alistair was not the dour villain she had painted him to be. "I see you have recovered from your…exertions, this afternoon," he said after a moment, gesturing to her immaculately plaited locks that coiled about her head, "not a daisy in sight."
Elissa felt whatever goodwill she felt evaporate and she once again was filled with nothing but annoyance and despair for the man.
"May I enquire as to where you were headed this afternoon? You seemed to be in quite the hurry," Elissa said pointedly as she delicately cut a bite from the piece of fowl on her plate. Alistair arched an eyebrow at her tone but did not rise to the bait and answered her with a false smile.
"I was touring the Alienage," he said, "keeping a promise I had made long ago."
"Promise?" Elissa inquired, genuinely curious. Before the king could reply Eamon overtook the conversation, hastily asking questions about the restoration of Highever. The conversation took up the rest of the meal, and Elissa could not help but notice that the King offered nary another word beyond what was socially expected. She could tell Eamon was frustrated at the monarch for his horrific behavior, and it made her wonder if she was destined to be married to a man who could barely bring himself to speak with her. Once the servants had cleared away the platters of picked over food Elissa gracefully rose to her feet and turned to address Alistair.
"I think it best that his Majesty and I excuse ourselves to get better acquainted with one another."
"If it's all the same to you, I would rather retire for the evening," Alistair said rising, turning to give Eamon a pointed look, "I find myself quite over taxed with thoughts of the footbridge."
"Apologies, Majesty, but I insist," she said, straining to keep a civil tone to her voice. Alistair leveled a hard look at her but nodded and bent to murmur something in Eamon's ear. Fergus pushed himself to his feet and grasped his sister's hand in an attempt to garner her attention.
"Elissa," he whispered, "what exactly do you think you're doing?"
"The King and I are going to have an abrupt conversation," she muttered.
"What conversation with you isn't abrupt?" he snapped.
"Look," Elissa whispered, thrusting a finger against her brother's chest, "you're the one who got me into this, and I will, by the Maker, see it through. But I will be damned if I'm going to spend the rest of my life married to a man who doesn't extend even the simplest courtesy to his wife. To the void with titles and duty, I will not have that man treating me as less than I am."
Without waiting for a reply she spun on her heel and strode to join Alistair who was waiting for her impatiently by the door. When he didn't so much as offer her his arm Elissa rolled her eyes and stomped off down the corridor, forcing Alistair to trail behind as they made their way to one of the castle's many meeting rooms. Once they were safely behind closed doors the King slumped into the nearest chair and spread his arms wide, face expectant.
"Well?" he asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.
"All due respect Your Majesty-"
"Oh stop it. We're going to be husband and wife, at the very least you can call me by my name," he interrupted with a sigh.
"Are we to be husband and wife, or are we to be two strangers who occasionally pass each other in the halls?" she replied "Because from where I'm standing it looks to be the latter, Alistair."
"What exactly were you expecting, Lady Cousland?" he replied, leaning forward in the chair, eyes mocking, "I've known you for less than six hours, even the bards would tell you that is not nearly enough time for love to manifest." Elissa stared at him for a few seconds before laughing loud and hysterical. Alistair looked at her, a queer and put-out look upon his face. "Care to enlighten me, Lady?" he asked wryly, "I am known for my stunning wit, but I do not recall making a joke."
"You think this is about love?" she gasped between fits of giggles, "Oh that is rich! Fergus was right, you are still a commoner aren't you?"
"I will not apologize for my humble upbringing," he said dangerously, but was hard pressed to hold the emotion when the words elicited an even stronger bout of laughter from the woman. Minutes ticked by as she attempted to stifle the amusement that bubbled out of her. Once she seemed to have her emotions under control she delicately folded her hands across her stomach and smiled at him.
"My apologies, Alistair," she said simply, "I did not mean offense. It's just the notion that this marriage is about anything more than power and convenience is a bit farfetched."
"Is it so wrong to want to bear affection for the woman I marry?" Alistair asked as he rose from his chair.
"For nobility? Yes," she said softly, her features instantly sobering. A silence descended upon them, each unsure as to how to continue.
"And you are fine with that?" Alistair asked eventually, his tone neutral. Elissa snapped her eyes up to meet his, a fire flashing in their dark depths.
"It doesn't matter if I am 'fine' with it as you say," she said, her voice filled with bitterness, "for all we worship a goddess, a woman knows her place in this world. And mine happens to be here, in Denerim, as your wife."
Alistair regarded her with shrewd eyes, taking in her stature and bearing. He had to admit there was something he admired in the way that she so effortlessly stood her ground. It was as if she was utterly unimpressed that he was the King. Such a thing was both irritating and impressive all at once. And she was beautiful, with thick shining hair that fell in waves to her waist, and deep brown eyes, so dark he would swear they were black. She was the exact opposite of Harlow in every way, from coloring to upbringing, and in the end that was why he could not bring himself to offer her the social courtesies due a wife…not when he could not marry the person he truly wanted to.
"I suspect you have demands? A long list of dos and don'ts that I shall have to agree to lest I incur your wifely wrath?"
"My wrath?" she sputtered.
"A term Eamon uses when he's earned the sharp side of Isolde's tongue," he said with a shrug, "having grown up around the woman, I say it is a vast understatement of her temper."
"I remember her," Elissa said wryly, "she was never fond of me, said I was impertinent and uppity. Believe me when I say the feeling is mutual."
"Well at least we have one thing in common," Alistair said with a sigh, "I don't suppose that is enough to make a happy marriage?"
"Not nearly so," Elissa said sweetly, her eyes disapproving an irritated. "Look, I am no more happy to be in this position as you, but the die has been cast and here we are. All I ask that is in public you treat me with the respect due my station and at least pretend, for the sake of appearances, that you bear me some affection."
"And in return?" he prodded, "You will what? Act the very sweet-tempered queen who never has nary an ill word to say of her husband? Forgive me, Elissa, but from what little I know of you I find that hard to believe."
"In return," she said through clenched teeth, "I will bear you an heir, as is my duty, and assist you in the ruling of our kingdom. In addition to which, I shall try to give you court polish and lessons in etiquette, something you sorely need."
"I don't need help ruling," he said dismissively, completely glossing over the child issue, "And I quite like beingunpolished, I don't need you to make me shiny."
"If you think I am to be sold off to a man I hardly know, taken from everything I hold dear and forced to live a life completely foreign and opposite as to what I once dreamed, only to be treated as a pretty adornment that is dusted off and propped up for social functions, than you are dearly mistaken," she said in a low voice. Alistair's eyes widened as she stepped close to him, their faces inches apart. "Lesson the first, my dear King; never seek to take power from a member of the nobility. Not unless you are willing to deal with the inevitable fall out."
She stepped back and gave him a low curtsey, eyes never once leaving his, as if she were daring him to defy her. When he said nothing she gracefully rose to her feet and took her leave without another word. Alistair stared after her long after she had left and mulled their conversation over in his head. A part of him whispered that none of this was her fault and she was just as much an unwilling victim in this mess as he; but the part of him that heeded the iron will within the woman bristled at the notion that this was no mere noblewoman seeking adoration and fame as a queen. Elissa Cousland would dig in and fight for what she thought was proper and right, and damn the consequences if he didn't agree. It was a terrifying and thrilling concept, and Alistair could only hope that this marriage didn't implode ten minutes after their vows were spoken.