A/N: Ugh, this was a bitch and a half to write. But now that we're past the wedding I can really start getting into the meat of their relationship, so hopefully it will be far smoother sailing from now on. And despite what I hint at, there will be no lovin' soon to come (sorry).

I got a job btw! So while I will attempt to keep chapters coming at the pace they have been, occasionally it may take longer between installments (no more than four days, I promise!)

Also, for those who have been following "Chosen and Joined" expect a new chapter up tomorrow or the day after!

Elissa took comfort in her brother's solid presence pressing against her side. After her conversation with Alistair she had needed something familiar to anchor her and remind her of all the reasons she had agreed to marry. While every syllable of her words had been completely true, she nonetheless felt guilty at having given them the weight and breath of speech. Elissa had loved her parents dearly, despite the restrictions they had placed on her life. Even now, should she so desire, she could conjure the sound of her father's rich laugh ringing through the stone walls of Highever. The scent of honeysuckle on the wind would bring her mother's face into stark relief and she would be swept away in memories of a life lived before this one. Her family had meant everything to her, and it was that dedication that kept her glued to the floor instead of running in the other direction. They would have expected this of her, to see her duty through and bring esteem to the Cousland name.

"What do you think father would have made of all of this?" Fergus asked, as if plucking her very thoughts from her mind.

"Oh, father would be having a grand old time," Elissa said with a wry smile, "were he here you'd think it was his special day and not mine."

"True enough," her brother replied with a chuckle, "he'd have used it as an excuse to take credit for every one of your admirable qualities."

"Why Bryce! You're daughter is the very picture of beauty," Elissa said in a high falsetto, mimicking a well wisher.

"Yes, she is. A much more feminine version of myself. A comely appearance is a Cousland trait you know?" Fergus replied in a deep baritone reminiscent of their father, "And smart as a whip too! I personally taught her every bit of history and statesmanship she knows, it being a specialty of mine."

Elissa laughed at the impression, knowing that while it was an exaggeration, it did ring all to true of their beloved patriarch. Fergus grinned back and pulled his sister close, an arm slung over bare shoulder.

"He would be ever so proud of you, little sparrow. You have grown into a fine woman, and I know you will be an exquisite queen. I only wish he were alive to see you in all your glory."

"You know who I wish was alive to see this?" she said softly, gazing down at the bouquet of orchids and roses clutched tightly in her hands, "Rendon Howe." Fergus gave a jerk and pulled back, sure he had misheard his sister. "That way he could see how spectacularly he failed in his attempt to wipe out our family's power base. It would really gall him to see me crowned queen."

"Be that as it may, I think I prefer the thought of him rotting six feet underground," Fergus muttered as the sound of the musicians striking up the processional reached his ears. Elissa took a shuddering breath and drew herself up tall and straight. After taking a moment to ensure all was in place from her long, trailing veil that hung down in her back in a whisper of lavender lace gracefully cascading to the length of her train, to the precise angle at which she held flowers, Elissa gently slipped her arm through Fergus'. Her brother glanced down at her and she flashed him a dazzling smile, slipping into the role of eager bride without a second thought. The music swelled to a crescendo and the pair stepped purposefully into the arched doorway of the castle's ball room.

Ready or not, here I come, Elissa thought as she began the slow and long walk to her new life.

~oOo~

She was beautiful. Of that Alistair could not even begin to doubt. The muted colors of her gown brought a soft richness to her skin, and her hair was a study of chaotic elegance, delicate sprays of trembling lilac blossoms twined throughout the strands. He was hard pressed, however, to focus on her appearance when her words and wishes for freedom still danced through his head. The fierce and utter longing in her voice filled so much space with in him, that for a moment, he had completely forgotten about Harlow. He had always expected his wedding to be a bleak, and heart breaking affair; a day where he would constantly be out running reminders of the woman he had lost; as if she were a spirit sent to plague him from the fade. Elissa Cousland and her sudden confession had changed all that, and the memory of Harlow was a dull, a distant throb within him.

He understood all too well what she was feeling. Having been first raised in the chantry and then recruited by the Grey Wardens, he too had never felt the sweet relief of being truly free. Even as king his life was not truly his own, the most evident display of that being the woman walking down the aisle towards him. So he understood her yearning for a life not constantly bound by duty and sacrifice, it was something he himself had once, foolishly, thought to have.

Alistair watched as her brother gently kissed her cheek and murmured something low in her ear. Elissa smiled wryly, her mask of court polish slipping at Fergus' words, and Alistair was almost taken aback to see a genuine flash of joy upon her face. It was there a gone as she turned to climb the dais, her steps measured and deliberate. When at last she stood before him he took her hand in his and the two turned to face the Reverend Mother, sinking gracefully to their knees in supplication.

It was long, as chantry ceremonies tend to be; the droning tone of the Divine's voice weaving a soothing spell of devotion and dogma. When at last she bid the pair to rise and exchange vows, Alistair once more faced his intended, and found her staring up at him with a panicked look in her eyes.

"Elissa Cousland, you stand before the realm to pledge yourself to our King, Alistair Theirin. Speak your vows so that your love may be blessed in the Maker's eyes," the Reverend Mother commanded softly, gesturing grandly with a withered hand.

"I, Elissa Cousland, take you as my wedded husband," she said, her voice clear and even, despite the frantic look in her gaze, "I vow to forsake all others, and keep you only unto to me as a wife should a husband. I vow to forever bind my fate with yours, Alistair Theirin, 'till death parts us."

When it was his turn to speak the words, he could no longer stand the anxiety that seemed seep from her very being and he found himself acting without even thinking.

"I, Alistair Theirin, take you as my wedded wife. I vow to forsake all others, and keep you only unto to me as a husband should a wife. I vow to share my fate with yours, Elissa Cousland," he said softly, pausing to place a comforting hand upon her cheek, his eyes full of understanding and mercy, "and I promise never to place you in chains of my making. I swear this, 'till death parts us."

Confused and titillated whispers filled the great room as the Reverend mother struggled to regain her footing, so unprepared was she for a deviation in ritual. Alistair ignored it all; his eyes locked with Elissa's as he silently urged her to understand what he was offering. She gazed back in shock, a thousand emotions flittering across her face. He would have been disappointed when she seemed to settle on stoic indifference, but he had caught that flash of utter gratitude and knew that his words had made the impact he desired.

Eventually the Reverend Mother regained her wits and proceeded with the ceremony. Rings of chased silver were exchanged before the couple were bid to seal their marriage with a kiss. They had agreed on a chaste and proper kiss, unwilling to scandalize the nobility more than they already had with their petty games. Because of this, Alistair was very surprised to feel Elissa fiercely press her lips to his, lingering far too long for what was deemed "acceptable." He knew it was not a kiss of passion or love, but one of thanks, the only action available to her at that moment for her to truly express her gratitude. When they parted, her eyes were tear bright as she turned away to kneel once more to receive the Divine's blessing of her coronation.

Alistair watched, barely hearing the words being spoke. His mind was too full of what had just transpired, and the knowledge that he was, truly, married, hit him hard. The wedding was over, and he had survived, something he never thought would happen. The marriage awaited, however, and despite the newly shared understanding between them, Alistair wasn't quite sure it would be a peaceful or happy undertaking.

~oOo~

"May I have this dance, Your Highness?" Ambrose asked with a wicked gleam in his eye. Elissa laughed and placed her hand in his, her sweeping train thrown over one arm.

The reception was well into its third hour and Elissa had finally managed to relax enough to take some joy from the festivities. Alistair's coded declaration of allowing her as much freedom as he was able had rocked her to her very soul, and she barely remembered her coronation that had followed. But once she had gotten some food in her belly and, perhaps, one too many glasses of rich red wine, she was slowly allowing herself to enjoy the festivities around her. Ambrose's presence had done a great deal to bring out her merry side, for he was never far away, always finding a moment to whisper a witty observation when he passed her way. Twice now she had choked on her wine, startled into laughter at his comments. She had insisted that he remain off duty for the day, and issued him an invitation over Eamon's incredibly vocal objections. Elissa took a smug sort of delight as she glanced the man's face turn red with anger as he watched the pair glide across the dance floor. She was, however, ever mindful of appearances, and spared a moment to ensure that her husband took no umbrage with her partner. For his part, Alistair seemed barely aware of her behavior, so caught up in a discussion with Shianni to notice her.

A pang of some unpleasant emotion coursed through her as she watched the pair speak, unable to stop herself from wondering if the topic at hand was that of Harlow Tabris. Such a notion was easily dismissed when she saw frustration and not heartache flash through Alistair's eyes. Satisfied that all was well, or as well as it could be given the circumstances, she returned her focus to Ambrose and gaily twirled about the room, laughing as he spun her ever faster in an effort to amuse her.

A wave of angered and startled gasps rose from the crowd and Elissa became puzzled as the music abruptly came to a halt. She swept her gaze around the room and was utterly surprised to find an unfamiliar elf pushing his way purposefully towards herself, and by extension, Alistair.

"Mortain," Shianni called out, her voice gone hard, "care to explain just what you think you are doing?"

"Why, I was invited, my dear Bann," the man said regally as he produced a thick piece of parchment from beneath the folds of his shabby cloak. Elissa turned at the sound of a chair scraping back against stone and found Alistair striding angrily down the dais and towards the man. She spun back around as Ambrose plucked the supposed "invitation" from the man's hand and inspected it with a thorough and calculating eye. All the while the elf smiled pleasantly at the crowd, but his steel grey eyes belied an anger so strong it bordered on outright hatred.

"It appears he speaks the truth, my lady," Ambrose muttered as he pocketed the parchment, "Though a good forgery isn't out of the question."

"Yes, it must be a forgery," Mortain hissed, his eyes narrowed, "for the idea of an elf to be invited within the palace walls is beyond ludicrous. We must then all be perpetrators of fraud for such a thing to happen."

"Or perhaps it is so because I have never met you before," Alistair replied as he came to stand at Elissa's side.

"Oh but you have heard of me," Mortain responded with a dark confidence, flicking his gaze to land upon Shianni, who was silently seething behind them. "I know all too well that your little pet elf has informed you of my…activities."

"I am not his pet!" Shianni cried out at the precise moment that Alistair called for the guards. Elissa stepped between her husband and the unwelcome guest, arms held out in a silent command.

"I apologize, my lord Mortain," she said calmly, eyes locked unflinchingly on his, "You are an invited guest and have been treated abysmally. Please, enjoy our hospitality and join us in the celebration."

"As if I would partake in any hospitality offered by the shem," he replied with a sneer, "tell me, yourmajesty, how many elven women slaved over your gown only to be paid half of what they were owed?"

"None," she stated evenly, "for my dress was commissioned in Highever and stitched by my personal seamstress."

"How very noble of you," he sneered, "I can see why you favor her so, Your Majesty, she's quite the beauty. She would have to be for you to cast aside the elven woman you claimed to love."

Alistair growled and stalked forward, his fists rising as he advanced on the now smirking elf. Elissa gripped his arm tightly, silently commanding him to stay his hand.

"I do not deny that Harlow Tabris is a great woman; truly she is a hero to both elves and humans alike. I hold nothing but the deepest of admiration for her. Alistair may have loved her once, but she has found happiness in the arms of another, as your king has found in me. I do not seek to take her place, and you would do well to remember that," Elissa said diplomatically, her voice edged with only the faintest of warnings.

"She is a lesson you should take to heart," the man replied menacingly, "not all elves seek to submit to their human overlords. Harlow was one of them."

"I refuse to let you use my cousin's name as a figure head for your shit-brained scheme, Mortain," Shianni seethed from across the room, "were she here she would knock you on your ass for your behavior."

"My good lord, if you did not come to join us in celebrating the union of my husband and myself, then pray tell why did you grace us with your presence? Surely it could not be to simply threaten your liege?" Elissa said stoically as she sought to keep the tension from rising to unmanageable levels.

"I came to take the measure of the man who allows twenty plus elven citizens to wither away under the bonds of slavery," Mortain said through clenched teeth, his hands fisted at his sides. Murmurs of outrage rippled through the captivated crowd, and Elissa held a hand up for silence.

"Shianni has told me of the unfortunate instance of slaving within the Alienage. She has also spoke of how you are a slave returned, your freedom bought with hard earned coin."

"And has Shianni also told you how that coin was acquired?" he prodded.

"She has, and if I were a man such as you I would refrain from speaking of it, if only to spare my wife abject humiliation," Elissa murmured softly, her eyes flashing in anger.

"And I think you've had more than enough time to take my measure," Alistair interjected, stealing away the man's focus. "You have overstayed your welcome, Mortain."

"Ambrose?" Elissa called out, "Be a dear and escort our guest back to his home. Along the way take a full accounting of his time spent abroad. I wish to know every detail of his trials."

"It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty," her friend muttered before roughly grabbing Mortain's elbow in crushing grip. The elf stared daggers at the royal pair, an unspoken threat of more trouble to come hanging heavy in the air.

"Good evening, my lord Mortain," Elissa said diplomatically, "should you wish to discuss this matter further you may request an audience with His Majesty, or myself. I look forward to speaking with you soon."

As Ambrose dragged the sullen man away, Elissa turned to her still seething husband and sighed wearily. Excited and scandalized whispers rose from the gathered guests who had watched the scene play out with rapt attention. When the day began Elissa had thought it would have been trial enough to make it through the ceremony…clearly she had been optimistic in her estimation of the event.

"This is only going to get worse," she muttered and Alistair snapped his head around to face her.

"What gave you that impression?" he replied sarcastically. Shianni angrily strode to join them; steam fair shooting out her ears so great was her rage.

"I'm going to beat that man senseless, I swear Alistair," the elven woman shrieked, "he's been a thorn in my side ever since he came back to Denerim."

"You will do no such thing," Elissa insisted, voice firm and commanding. "If Mortain wants to play at being the revolutionary that is more than fine. We just need to ensure his uprising never gets off the ground."

"We?" Alistair inquired, "Elissa, I think it's best if I handle this-"

"And I think you have far too personal a stake in this," she replied calmly. "You made a vow to me Alistair; it would hurt me greatly to know you intend to break it so soon after it was spoke."

Her husband flinched as if he had been struck, but he closed his eyes and nodded. Elissa felt a wave of guilt wash through her, and she regretted using his words as bargain to hold over his head. But she truly felt that she was firmly on the side of right in this; Alistair's feeling for Harlow would color his judgment to sharply in his dealing with the elves. It would then be left up to her to fix this mess that had fallen into their laps.

"I think the time for celebrating has ended," Alistair said quietly, as he glanced around at chattering nobility. "Should we…I mean…I suppose that all that remain is to…"

"Yes, my king," Elissa said, her throat suddenly gone dry, "I think it best that we retire."

Alistair nodded and hesitantly gripped her hand in hers. All eyes in the ballroom turned to glance their way as they slowly made their way up the grand staircase and out of sight. Elissa could feel herself trembling with every step, and she could not help but glance at her husband, wondering if he could feel the evidence of her unease. If he could he made no note of it, and Elissa swallowed hard as the door to their bed chamber came into view. She took back her earlier thoughts…crazed elves were hardly intimidating when faced with the prospect of losing one's virginity.