A/N: Ladies and gentleman, I give you tension…delicious, wonderful tension.
Thanks once again to all my readers! Your reviews, pms, and favs/follows completely make my day and keep me going. Metaphorical cookies to all of you!
Also, I changed the "your highness" to "your majesty" in the previous chapter (I should have done my research into royal titles, forgive me). As always, constructive criticism and technical errors are welcome.
Lastly, for those who care/are interested, I posted a new chapter to "Chosen and Joined" yesterday, check it out.
Normally the prospect of being locked behind closed doors with a beautiful woman was enough to have Alistair's common sense take leave of him, but not that night. Yes, a distant part of him did idly wonder how it would feel to trace a slow and sensual line across that honey kissed skin, but his irritation overrode such thoughts.
"Care to explain, my dear wife?" he ground out as he harshly closed the door. Elissa turned to him with genuine bafflement and raised an eyebrow in question.
"Explain what, Alistair?" she inquired as she nervously twisted her hands.
"Why you felt the need to so thoroughly undermine me in front of half the realm?"
"Undermine you? I was helping you!" she exclaimed defensively.
"And such a help it was," Alistair sneered as he pushed by her, hands rising to unclasp the uncomfortable brocade doublet that wrapped about his torso. "I'm quite sure the nobility is having a grand old time recapping how brilliantly you subverted my authority and claimed it for your own. Everyone knows I do strive to entertain my guests in whatever manner is open to me, so thank you for that."
"Would you rather I have let you beat the elf bloody?" Elissa snapped and she yanked the delicate veil from her hair, fingers combing through the strands to loosen the twenty plus iron pins hidden beneath the mass.
"It most certainly would have made me feel better," Alistair grumbled as he let the doublet fall to the ground, his attention turning to unlacing the thin under tunic that covered his chest.
"I'm quite sure it would, and then the nobility would have a grand old time recapping how delightfully common their King had behaved, but what can you expect from a bastard?" she mumbled in reply as she fumbled behind her back in an effort to loosen the strings that bound her corset.
"A king, bastard or not, knows when to make a show of strength," he growled impatiently, angrily strinding to stand behind her. Elissa stiffened when his hands pushed hers away and harshly tugged at her laces, the corset parting with an audible sigh.
"And a king also knows when to show restraint," she snapped back as she peeled the stiff garment from her torso.
"Well, then I am most pleased that you were there to act the part for me," Alistair seethed stepping away from her once more.
"I will say this one more time, Alistair," Elissa said patiently as she shoved her gown's sleeves passed her shoulder, "I was doing my best to diffuse the situation in an effort to help you. If you had risen to that man's bait it would have given him even more passion and fire to take back to his followers. Come morning the Alienage would have been abuzz with talk of the elf with the wounded face; bruises courtesy of King Alistair himself. You would have handed him his revolution on a silver platter and all the thanks you would get is six inches of steel in your belly!"
"Did it ever occur to you that I, perhaps, had a plan of my own, Elissa?" Alistair stated roughly, bending at the waist to remove his breeches and kick them away in anger. "I am all too aware of what Mortain is playing at, and my intention was to chuck the man into the dungeons and try him for treason!"
"And make him a martyr to his people?" Elissa barked out a laugh, "I take it back, beating him bloody would have been far better."
"Be that as it may," Alistair said, his eyes narrowed, "regardless of the outcome it does not change the fact that you publically humiliated me. Do not seek to do so again."
"Damnit, Alistair!" Elissa cried, "This is what I do! It was what I raised to do since I was old enough to form words. I can dance the steps of politics far better than you and it was why I was chosen to be your wife. Let me do my damn job!"
"At expense to my own? I think not, dear lady. Why does everyone assume I'm some bumbling fool who can barely dress himself let alone affect policy in any real way? I defeated a sodding blight! Or does that little detail get lost in translation when one discusses my shortcomings?"
"When you behave like a drunkard in a tavern brawl, yes!" Elissa snapped as she let her gown pool to the floor in a slither of silk. She daintily stepped out of the fabric before angrily closing the distance between the two. "But while we're on the subject, no, I do not find you a bumbling fool. I find you impulsive, unsure, completely distracted by the past, and scrambling to cover it all with a layer of puffed up masculinity just itching to lash out."
"How very droll you are, Elissa," Alistair said low and dangerous as he shifted ever so slightly forward, "You speak as if you yourself aren't seeking to cover your own share of emotional hurt. You are out running ten different kinds of pain and you hide it all behind the visage of the bitchy, pampered rich girl, completely unreachable and frigid."
"Despite what you think of me, I stand by my actions tonight, Alistair."
"If you take nothing away from this conversation, at least try to remember this," he said fiercely as he gripped her shoulders in his hands, fingers unconsciously kneading her flesh. "I am not my brother and I will not allow you to be a clone of Anora. We will not reenact scenes from their failure of a marriage, and I will not have you pulling the strings from behind the throne when you find fault with my ruling."
"How very fortunate for you as I have no intention of ruling from behind a throne," Elissa mocked sweetly, her dark eyes flashing with temper, "I find it far more effective to do so when standing in front of such a thing."
"You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met, and that includes Morrigan!" Alistair snapped, pulling her close in an effort to display his aggravation.
"Likewise, your Majesty," she hissed back.
It was only then, as anger flared between them that Alistair's head cleared enough to take in their position. He himself was clad only in a pair of white cotton breeches, suitable for sleeping, and Elissa…well she was in little more than hose and an under corset, the boning pushing her heaving chest up high. They were pressed so close to one another that he could feel her agitated breath fan across his skin in a hot rush. Despite how very, very put out he was with the woman, he could not stop himself from glancing at her full and trembling lips and remember how expertly she had kissed him the night their engagement was announced. Flicking his eyes back to hers, he caught the moment she realized their same position and a delicate pink flush crept across her cheeks, her breath becoming uneven with an emotion completely opposite of anger: nervous anticipation.
Alistair quickly released her from his grasp and hastily stepped away. Elissa stumbled a bit and let out a surprised gasp as she sought to regain her footing.
"We will speak more of this in the morning," he muttered as he busied himself with turning down the bed linens, "I find myself overly exhausted."
"Alistair…are we to…" Elissa inquired hesitantly, voice quiet.
"Do you honestly think that after a conversation such as this I am in the best of moods to do…that?" He asked incredulously.
"In the mood or not…it is expected. We must," she said, eyes downcast and refusing to meet his.
"I rather think we don't," was his terse reply.
"Alistair…you don't understand. To ensure my…station is intact there must be proof of our…coupling," she huffed, silently pleading for him to understand. When no such recognition came over him she let out an exasperated breath closed her eyes, completely horrified to be having such a conversation. "Lesson the third, my king-"
"Stop with the blighted lessons," Alistair ground out through clenched teeth.
"Servants talk," Elissa continued, "you'll find they know far more about politics than anyone else in all of Thedas. So what do you imagine they will say when they discovered the bed linens free of any blood…any tell tale sign that I was…that I am…"
"You're saying that unless we lay together and furnish proof of your purity that come tomorrow morning you'll be labeled a harlot?" Alistair asked incredulously.
"I doubt it will take more than an hour for the rumor to circulate," she replied bitterly. Elissa watched as a war of emotions played over Alistair's face. Anger and irritation were expected, but she was surprised to see a flash of predatory desire overtake him for a brief moment. She held her breath and waited, steeling herself against the inevitable course her words would set in motion.
"Very well," Alistair muttered eventually, eye's half lidded and swirling with unnamed emotions. She watched as he turned from her to open a worn chest that lay next to the bed. When he produced a shining dagger and locked eyes with her once more, determination set in his jaw, she had no time to ask him his intentions before he brought the blade against his palm in a hard and fierce line. She stared in shock as he held his hand above the linens and let a trickle of blood fall upon the mattress, leaving a dark, scarlet stain.
"Your virtue, and reputation, shall remain intact," he said softly as he tossed the dagger to the floor. Elissa stared at him dumbfounded, mouth open as if words were about to tumble from her lips. "Goodnight, Elissa."
He lowered his gaze and gracefully climbed into the bed, turning his back on her once settled and refusing to say another word. Elissa let a moment pass before following suit, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. This man was such a conundrum to her; one minute she was so infuriated with him she could barely see straight, the next…he would show her these brilliant flashes of compassion and she would be completely thrown.
Sleep was hard in coming that night, for both occupants of the royal bedroom. Alistair and Elissa were both far too aware of each other's presence, and contrary to what they would ever admit out loud, the memory of the intensity with which they spoke and the knowledge that only scant inches separated them was enough to keep them awake well into the night.