A/N: Sorry for the delay my lovelies! I kept getting interrupted while writing this and if I'm interrupted it find it harder to get back into the grove and finish. But here it is! And we finally find out how Elissa spent the blight.
Also, don't worry, I haven't completely forgotten about Mortain and his creepy cult of elves. Just wait for the wedding (mwahahaha).
Lastly, miracle of miracles, I updated my BtVS/DA crossover fic. If you love Buffy as much as I head over and check it out! (It's called Chosen and Joined)
Elissa stared into the large, wrought iron mirror before her, eyes dull and unfeeling. Through her open window she could hear the excited chatter of a crowd milling about in the garden courtyard. The sound barely seemed to reach her, nor did the straining tug of her corset strings being pulled ever tighter by her maid. Indeed, nothing seemed penetrate her stoic shell that day: the day she was to be married.
After her conversation with Alistair she had found herself in the strange and terrifying position of wanting to hide herself away from the man. Whereas only days before she had sought to unravel the mystery behind his distant behavior, once she had been armed with the answers she felt an overwhelming desire to remove herself from any situation in which they may cross paths. Perhaps it was because the look of utter longing and crushing heartbreak in his eyes had haunted her since the night they had discussed Harlow. Not that she loved Alistair, far from it! No, she merely did not want to be reminded that in his eyes, she was less than. Having been taught from the cradle up that she was destined for a life of power and riches, Elissa was not comfortable with the thought that someone so unlike herself could rival, nay surpass her, in every way. She was not so pampered that the idea angered her; she was intelligent enough to know that not everyone viewed the world around them in quite the same way, merely it was a situation she had never before encountered and as such, was woefully unprepared in how to go about dealing with it. And so, like a coward, she hid…yet another emotion foreign to her experience. Say what you would about Elissa Cousland, cowardly she most assuredly was not.
She had filled her days with explorations of the castle, throwing herself into her soon-to-be duties by immersing herself in the life of the palace. She met with every servant the castle boasted, taking their measure with a calculating and shrewd eye. Some of them would be sacked once she took the crown, having decided their loyalty suspect, but the majority would stay. Alistair had filled his house with dedicated and hard working people, and Elissa found no need to completely overhaul the staff simply because they fell within her domain.
When not interrogating the maids and kitchen boys, Elissa could be found in the practice ring, growing ever closer to her new friend, Ambrose. The man was a miracle worker in that, for a few precious hours, he could almost make her forget her feelings of inadequacy. All he had to do was flash a mischievous grin and spit out a witty phrase and she was lost in a fit of giggles. Their lessons in the art of war were the highlight of her day and she took great pride in herself when at last, after much trial and error, she watched Ambrose plant an arrow in the center of a target ring. Her own lessons in wielding blades were coming much slower. The discipline was so contrary to that of archery that she often found herself cursing in a most unlady like manner as she fumbled through the exercises Ambrose attempted to teach her. Despite her lack of grace, her friend assured her that she was progressing and given time she would master the art.
These sessions that brought her such joy were almost ended permanently when Eamon had happened upon the pair three days into their training. Elissa's body had been pressed close Ambrose's, her arms gently pushing and guiding him into the proper position to release the bow string. Ambrose, true to form, had muttered a bawdy joke at her expense and she had laughed, unaffected knowing that he was not the least bit interested in her in that way. Unfortunately that was the moment the ex Arl came upon them. Elissa still remembered the way the man at looked at her with such undisguised disapproval and accusation. Had she been anyone else, some other daughter of nobility, she would have been mortified and begged forgiveness, but she was Bryce Cousland's daughter, and if nothing else the man had instilled in her a deep sense of pride. Knowing she had done nothing to earn Eamon's disapproval, no matter what the situation appeared to be, she had adamantly refused to offer apologies or explanations for her behavior. After that, Elissa had been irate to discover that Ambrose had been assigned to a different guard shift, and as such would no longer be able to attend their lessons. Elissa managed to subvert Eamon's attempt at controlling her life by simply refusing to attend her nightly dinner with Alistair. Instead she met with Ambrose by torchlight once he had been relieved and they continued to grow their friendship and skills beneath the stars. Ever since then, Eamon had barely managed to be civil towards her, clearly upset that she had not instantly cow-towed to his silent command.
None of that will matter after today, she thought, a little spark of joy igniting within her. In only three hours time she would not only be wed but crowned and her word would supersede Eamon's. Let him try to end her friendship with the guard; she would laugh as she struck down every attempt. The reminder that she and Alistair were to exchange vows in such a short time instantly sobered her and she once again retreated to that bleak place she had inhabited since she awoke that morning.
Just as her maid and finished lacing her corset a knock sounded at the door and Elissa turned, expecting her brother to walk across the threshold. Alistair, instead, appeared, and she stared at him with an open mouth, utterly surprised by his appearance. With a flick of his hand he motioned for her maid to leave, and within seconds the pair were left alone in silence.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded after a moment, "It's bad luck for you to see me before the wedding!"
"And since the luck we've been having has been so spectacularly good, it's quite the risk I'm under taking," he said wryly. Elissa couldn't help but quirk a grin at his words, realizing how ridiculous she had sounded.
"True enough, my king, but the question remains, why are you here?"
"I wanted to talk to you…before…everything happens," he said softly, running a hand through his hair. "You look….very nice, by the way."
Unconsciously Elissa turned to regard herself in the mirror, hands running self consciously down her dress. Having immediately vetoed a gown of flaming Theirin red, claiming the color upon her honey skin made her look sickly, she instead settled on a low cut dress of pale lavender silk with a brocade corset of buttery yellow; a muted version of the Highever colors. Her hair had been pulled back from her face and piled low at her nape, flowers expertly woven through the elegantly tangled mess. Initially her desire for the posies had been to irk her future husband, a subtle reminder of their first meeting, but the sighing girl within her could not help but admire the beauty of it.
"Thank you," she said demurely, "what did you want to speak of?"
"I haven't seen you much since…" he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable to even bring up their last interaction.
"Yes, well…it didn't exactly end well for either one of us," she said smartly, willing herself to hide her discomfort behind a wall of sass and indifference. "What, then, would be the point of reliving it? Unless you enjoy the feeling of awkward and painful conversations. Are, you, perhaps, the deviant, Alistair?"
"I deserve that," he said flinching, "I was angry and wanted to be cruel. Had you met me three years ago such an insult would never have passed my lips."
"And now?" she prodded.
"Now I have a temper, one I find is rather difficult to keep in check around you," he said softly.
"Your majesty, you must be careful. Keep talking like that and you're liable to spin my pretty head with such praise," she said with mock affection.
"Well, you make it pretty damn hard to act otherwise," he snapped before taking a deep breath and composing himself.
"As my brother had told me with great frequency," she said with a sad smile, "a flaw in my personality to be sure. You wanted to speak? Then sit and we shall, though time is a bit of a factor."
"I can't be your husband," he blurted out suddenly. When Elissa's eyes widened in shock and panic he hastened to explain, "I mean, I'll marry you, I will, but to truly be your spouse? To give you all the physical and emotional courtesies owed a wife? I don't think I even have those in me to give anymore."
"Gifts I never asked for, Alistair," she replied with an impatient sigh, "through all our delightful conversations have you not picked up on this? I never asked you for anything more than pretend, do not insinuate otherwise."
"And that truly doesn't bother you?" he pressed, disbelief clear in his tone. "Elissa, I may think you are a harpy sent to vex me for Maker only knows what purpose, but even you are not so cold as to truly want a marriage without even the barest hint of affection."
"You truly wish to know what I want?" she snapped, rising to her feet, "Very well, I shall tell you. Do you know how I spent the blight, Alistair?"
"We assumed you were one of Howe's hostages, being held as a surety against his claim on Highever," Alistair replied dismissively, completely at a loss as to what the blight could possibly have to do with this conversation.
"Howe never touched me," she seethed, eyes flashing with utter hatred at having to speak the man's name. "While that villain sacked my home and slaughtered my family I was making my way across Ferelden on horseback, returning from yet another failed attempt to marry me off to some pock-marked nobleman. Word of Highever's fate reached my party just barely ahead of Howe's men. I was forced into hiding, being secreted away in cellars and barns of those loyal to my father. For a year I sweated, and toiled, and hid in the filthiest, more dire conditions you can imagine. Every single facet of myself that had been bred and instilled so thoroughly in me since birth shattered that year, and I became I stranger to myself. And I have never in my life been happier than I was then."
Alistair's jaw dropped open at her confession, sure he had misunderstood her words. But when he took in the glowing flush of her skin, the fire burning deep in her glittering eyes, he knew she meant every word she said.
"For the first time my life was my own. Yes, it was in constant peril, but I was in control of it. To make my own decisions, to know that from that moment on I had a future that was unknown and not planned down to the last minute detail; it was the greatest gift ever given to me. Even now a dark part of me wants to thank that bastard Howe, because had he not destroyed my former life so entirely, I never would have known what it was to be free."
"Elissa…" Alistair trailed off, complete at a loss for what to say.
"But I knew the moment the blight ended, when Howe lay dead and the heroes stood in triumph, I would have to return. The love for my family is too ingrained and so when your precious Harlow killed the archdemon I returned to Highever and once again became the well bred, dutiful daughter. You asked me what I want, Alistair, I want my freedom, but that is something you cannot give me, so kindly refrain from asking."
Silence descended upon the pair, heavy and oppressive. Outside, a group of musicians struck up a merry tune, the notes wafting in through the open window; a sharp and mocking contrast to the emotions that swirled through the room. Distantly Elissa could hear a bell toll sharply, and her eyes fluttered closed. Their time was up, duty called.
"We should go," she said softly, brushing past him in her haste to leave. His hand came hard upon her arm, fingers gripping tightly. She turned and was surprised to find a look of fierce compassion and understanding on his face.
"Then leave," he said, the words gentle, "Go. You do not need to do this, you can have your freedom, Elissa."
"And return to Highever?" she said with a bitter laugh and a smile that did not quite reach her eyes, "Alistair, it is merely trading one prison for another. If I do not marry you, than it is someone else. At least if I tie my fate to yours I have the opportunity to do something with my life. As cages go, it is better to be locked in one that's gilded."
He watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek before she turned away and effortlessly slipped out his grasp. Elissa took her exit without another word, and Alistair stared numbly after her, a strange blend of dread and the desire to set things right tumbling through him.