A/N: Shorter chapter, and we see a bit of Alistair's nasty side. (Also, if I didn't know before I most certainly know now that "Bann" in gender neutral, haha.) Thanks once again to everyone who has review/faved/followed. You are amazing.

Speaking of amazing, a friend posted a video to my FB page that was of David Gaider doing a presentation on sexism and sexuality in video games and how they are marketed, focusing on how women/minorities are left in the dust when these decisions are made. It was VERY interesting and well thought out. If you're interested in watching it (it's long, 49 min) google "sexism and sexuality in video games" and the link to gamastura's website should come up.

Alistair stormed through the hallways of the palace, his fury aimed to a sharp point at one particular woman. Ever since Elissa Cousland had waltzed into his life he found himself in a constant state of irritation and confusion. It had been bad enough when she had slapped him down after their first meal spent together, but when she had kissed him suddenly and moved up the date of their wedding without so much as a "by the way" it had driven him to a new level of anger. His revenge that followed should have brought him some satisfaction and amusement but all it did was ring far too familiar of his last interactions with Harlow. He couldn't deny there was a purely physical attraction to Elissa, she was beautiful, but the ill will he bore towards her had flavored those kisses and intimate touches with a sharp edge…the same edge he had felt with Harlow. The two of them had pushed and wounded each other to the breaking point, unable to let go of their past until all that was left was a sadistic sort of passion. Alistair felt the same when he had pressed his lips to Elissa, felt her submit to his fury and return it in kind with a soft plying of her tongue and hands. She had been thrown by his actions, but it left him with bitter memories and he vowed never to do such a thing again.

He had fully intended on apologizing at dinner that evening but Elissa had even managed to thwart that decision when she interrupted his meeting with Shianni and sent him on a fool's errand to the kitchen to discuss, at length, the merits of various roasts that could be served at their nuptials. All thoughts of apologies and supplication had evaporated when he realized she had subverted his authority and lied to him to achieve her own purposes. Even now he was to meet with her for their dinner, but food was nowhere near the front of his mind as he angrily made his way to chambers. Once he had changed he fully intended on pinning his fiancé to a chair and explaining, in great detail, how things were going to fall out from now on; that he was not the dumbstruck lack wit she thought and she had better start treating him with the respect that was due him.

Such thoughts and emotions swirled through his head, a violent storm of grief, anger, and determination, as he threw open the doors to his bedroom. He was brought to a sudden standstill when he discovered Elissa standing at his window, clad in a velvet gown of deep burgundy, her back to him. His eyes flicked to the table at her side and was surprised to find a meal for two set out along the surface.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, slamming the door behind him. Elissa turned at the noise, her eyes flashing at his tone, but she quickly took a breath and schooled her expression into one of calm.

"I thought that it was best if the two of us dined alone this evening," she replied softly, "Eamon and Fergus have no need to hear the words we speak tonight."

"Expecting a bit of a verbal brawl, lady Cousland?" Alistair asked sardonically as he unclasped the buckles on his armor, letting the massive plate clatter to the floor. Elissa winced a bit at the sound, but kept her bearing tall and straight.

"Yes. I suspect you have a few choice phrases to throw my way and I'd rather you say them privately than humiliate me by doing so publically."

"I have to wonder," he mused as he hastily unlaced his soiled tunic and pulled it over his head, leaving him bare from the chest up, "if you knew what was coming, why do the deed to begin with? Is it your hobby, perhaps, to drive men to such a state that they feel the need to lash out at you? Are you a deviant, Elissa?"

"I will remind you that I am to be your wife and you will keep a civil tongue when you speak to me," she snapped, her skin flushing in hurt at his words.

"And I will remind you that I am your blighted king and not some stable boy that you can order around to amuse yourself," he seethed. "Now sit down so we can get this over with."

"Alistair-" she began, her voice straining to remain civil and detached.

"I said sit down," he roared, advancing on her until she stumbled backwards into a chair, eyes wide in shock. He gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles turning white with force as he effectively caged her between his muscled arms.

"You may be an expert on how to manipulate and play the game of politics, but you are a dismal failure at how to gain trust and affection," he said harshly, his face inches from hers. "What Shianni had to report could spell a great deal of trouble for the kingdom and instead of hearing what she had to say I spent the afternoon tasting pastries!"

"I know," Elissa said softly, "Shianni told me of the secret gathering."

"As hard as it is to believe, I have been ruling this country for the past two years, and I will be damned if you think to swoop into my life and rearrange it because I don't fit into the fucking nobility's mold of what a king should be. I have given up far too much for the likes of you, I refuse to give up more."

"I know, Alistair," she whispered, eyes locked on his, the orbs filled with surprising sympathy, "Shianni also told me about Harlow."

Alistair pulled back from her as if he had been struck, a look of shocked horror on his face. Elissa watched him calmly, an infuriating blend of pity and despair writ upon her features.

"Was it really necessary for you to have that bit of information?" he asked after a moment, voice gone soft and guarded.

"I believe it was," she replied, rising to her feet in a smooth motion, hands clasped tight across her belly, "if for no other reason than to understand why you are so resistant to even play at showing me affection."

Alistair turned away from her, unable to stand the look in her eyes. He felt enough sorrow and self pity over the situation, he did not need hers added to it. He hoped his behavior and silence would stoke her anger and bring back the self-righteous wench he was used to dealing with, but he was dismayed to hear her soft voice continue undeterred.

"I do not pretend to understand what you feel for her. Having never been in love myself I can only guess at the depths of your emotions," she said hesitantly, "but please know that I have no intention of taking her place. Even if I had such designs on your heart, I don't think I ever could live up to what she meant to you."

Alistair swallowed hard, his muscles tense, still unwilling to face this woman who was being remarkably understanding about the situation. He could feel her eyes roll over his back, as if her gaze were tangible.

"Is that the mark of the poison?" she asked softly, and he unconsciously glanced down at the scarlet stain that curled about his hip, stretching from his lower back to abdomen, tendrils disappearing into the waistband of his breaches.

"Yes," he said hoarsely, "it cost me a kidney and my liver was badly damaged."

A moment later he went deadly still as he felt her fingers hesitantly trace the swirling line, her touch so gentle it fair ghosted over his skin.

"What did she lose?" Elissa whispered, clearly wanting an answer but thinking it impolite to ask. Alistair reached behind and grabbed her wrist, turning about to face her with grave and guarded eyes.

"Something far dearer," was as much an answer as he was willing to give. Elissa was clearly unsatisfied with his response, but refrained from pushing farther, wisely sensing she was treading on dangerous ground.

"We must learn to live with one another, Alistair," she said after a time, eyes locked with his, "and I don't see that happening with the specter of Harlow Tabris hanging over our marriage."

"And I don't see that happening when you take such delight in pointing out my short comings," came his terse reply.

"If I promise to play nice, will you in turn promise to not look at me as if I am some usurper come to claim what is not rightly mine?" she shot back in reply, brows raised in expectation. He searched her face and nodded, sensing it for the lie it was. Elissa herself didn't look entirely convinced of his sincerity, but stepped away from him and strode to the door.

"I'm sorry that you love her, and she is gone," she said as she paused at the threshold, "but I did not choose to take her place. Harlow is gone, Alistair, and I am here. There is nothing that will change that, no matter what prayers you offer up. But while you project your heart ache on me and harm me with your indifference, bear in mind that you are not the only person in this marriage who had to give up something to do their duty."

Alistair watched her go, unsure as to what exactly he could say that would mean anything to her in that moment. He wasn't sure that any words he spoke would even do any good, if not outright harm, and so he had bit his tongue and said nothing; a talent, he realized, he was getting better at with everyday. It was a dangerous habit to form, one that brought him shame instead of righteous satisfaction he had craved only moments before.