A/N: ah naughty-ness. After much debate I have decided to post the "light" version of this chapter here, and the full on smutty goodness as a separate story. I know not everyone digs the "porny" aspects of fan fic, and I really didn't want to change the rating to M, thereby risking turning some of my readers off to the story. But for those of you who like the smutty goodness, you can find the full chapter as a separate fic. Just look under my profile and you'll find it titled "Heavy are the Hearts: the smut chapter."
Elissa hesitantly opened the door to the royal bedroom, forcing her spine straight and wearing a cloak of confidence she clearly did not feel. Dinner had been sheer torture that night. Wanting to keep the news of the elven guard's demise under wraps for as long as possible, she had insisted on the celebration dinner to honor the champions of the tourney continue on as planned. Of all the times in which Elissa had found herself having to fake emotions, none was so trying as that feast. Thoughts of Shianni, Ambrose, Alistair and decapitated heads bombarded her throughout the evening, and she found her brilliant smile strain at the corner of her mouth as she sought to play the part of Queen. The nobility had no idea what transpired, and took full advantage of her hospitality, drinking and laughing long into the night. The sound of such gaiety seemed taunting and cruel when Elissa thought on the dismembered elf. She had not even bothered to ask his name, and the idea of such callousness shamed her to her soul.
Alistair had been absent during the festivities, and Elissa found herself making excuses for her husband, all the while wondering if she could lay the blame for his absence at the feet of Eamon, the scheming snake. And so she had come to their bedroom as soon as she was able, dreading what she would encounter when face to face with the man, but determined to see it through, even if it meant her ruin.
Alistair was seated in a chair, his back to her, eyes focused on a dying fire that lay smoldering in the hearth. Elissa calmly closed the door and cleared her throat, announcing her presence, but he didn't so much as flinch at the noise.
"You weren't at dinner," she said softly, "are you well?"
"Why, Elissa?" he asked, clearly not wanting to engage in pretense.
"What's done is done, Alistair," she murmured, walking wearily to bed, her fingers wrapping around the bed post in an effort to steady herself.
"Do you realize what you have done?" he asked, voice gravely and harsh.
"I've acted like a queen," she said, her tone the very model of righteousness.
"Funny how that is your reasoning for everything these days," Alistair said bitterly, finally turning his head to look upon her.
"It is my reasoning because it is the truth," she said, embarrassed at the pleading tone in her voice, "A queen has a duty to her people, to see them whole and cared for. It is too great a burden and I am but one woman but it is every day, Alistair. And If I do not make the hard choices, if I do not push you to do the very same, then our people die, by the hundreds, and I will not let that stand so that someone's feelings can be spared."
"A duty to her people, but what of her friends?" Alistair countered softly, turning to gaze at his fisted hands, clutched tightly about something she could not see.
"I do not want to talk about Shianni," Elissa said harshly, her voice catching on the elven woman's name.
"If not Shianni, then let's discuss Ambrose," Alistair replied angrily, swiftly rising to his feet. "Is your duty to him greater than that of your people?"
"What are you talking about?" she snapped, feigning ignorance as she strode to her vanity, refusing to meet his gaze. "Ambrose has nothing to do with this."
"Yes, but he does have something to do with this," Alistair said patiently, loosening his fist to reveal a crumpled lavender ribbon. Elissa stared hard at the favor and felt herself grow pale. She knew she would have to face the consequences of goading Eamon into action, but she truly had not thought the man such a fool to press the issue when other, far more dire circumstances demanded the king's attention.
"I can't believe it," Elissa breathed with a shake of her head, "the bastard really sought you out to tattle on me."
"What is the meaning of this?" her husband prodded, refusing to be thrown off track by her comments.
"Ambrose sought my favor," Elissa answered simply, hands reaching up to loosen the many plaits that bound her hair, "And as you were not competing, nor anywhere to be found, I saw no harm in bestowing the token upon my dear friend."
"You are my wife," Alistair hissed, throwing the bit of fabric to the ground, "whether I am competing or not, your favors are mine."
"And as your wife I have been offering my favors for weeks now," she countered angrily, "the only favors that truly matter and you have run from them every time. Do not seek to punish me over a scrap of ribbon when you have not done so much as kiss me behind closed doors!"
"It is not just the blighted favor, Elissa," Alistair growled, "Eamon has watched you, had seen how you dote on that man."
"I warned you that Eamon would do this Alistair," she cried, rising to her feet, "I warned you that man had a habit of making royal marriages his personal hobby. Are you shocked that he has now done so?"
"I have seen you, Elissa!" Alistair accused, "leaning far too close and sharing whispered conversations that leave you breathless."
"From laughter, you buffoon! And before you lay any more accusations at my feet allow me to point out that Ambrose is far more likely to seduce you than he ever would me!"
Alistair stared at her in shock, all his righteous anger leaving him in a rush. Elissa would have found it funny had she not been so filled with indignation and the need to defend her honor.
"You mean…that is to say…he's…"
"Fey? Yes, which is why you have nothing to fear from that quarter at least," she replied softly, her tone hurt and defensive. "And had Eamon even once bothered to do his research into the subject he would have discovered the truth quite quickly. Ambrose is rather famous for his exploits. But that is not the way of our dear chancellor, he is far more concerned with appearances than facts."
"He wants me to seek a divorce," Alistair said meekly, eyes downcast, "on ground of infidelity."
Elissa stared at him hard, silence stretching tight between them. She had known this was coming, even had prepared herself for the devastating blow, but she was laid low when presented with the reality of it. Something inside her broke, shifted, and she lost all sense of nobility and dignity. She would not back out graciously, slinking away to live out her life in shame and ignominy. She would dig in a fight, with claws and teeth, for her position, her life, and yes, even for this man standing before her. A man whom against all odds, she had come to care for in some small way. It was not love, of that she knew, but she found herself drawn to his sense of humor, his unexpected kindness, and she could not deny that something in her sparked hot and heavy when he railed at her with such impassioned speech, his eyes blazing and locked with hers. So no, she would not acquiesce to an old man's scheming. This is where she belonged. She was the queen.
"Infidelity?" she said, her voice harsh and grating, "I'll show you infidelity." Angrily she pulled at her gown, unlacing the stays with fumbling, shaking fingers. Alistair followed their progress with wide eyes, face blushing crimson.
"Elissa, you don't-"
"I will not stand by while my virtue is called into question," she cried as she pulled the garment from her body, leaving her in nothing but hose and a corset, "I have done nothing but try to be a wife to you in more than name, and by the Maker, I will not suffer fools who seek to wrest my crown because you will not take me as I have asked you to." She angrily strode to him, hands fisting the fabric of his doublet as she pushed him hard against the wall. Alistair gazed down at her, breath coming in labored pants as he drank her in. She was magnificent in her fury, and he could not deny that a part of him, the part that was undeniably male, roared its approval at her actions. He could not help but think back to the few moments of intimacy they had shared, each kiss and touch flashing through his mind until his skin fair hummed with the desire to trail his fingers along her honey skin. It had been too long since he had lost himself in the embrace of a woman, and he yearned to slake his lust, an emotion that had been growing with every night he slept beside his wife, in the beautiful woman standing before him.
"Elissa, don't do this," he murmured softly, unable to tear his eyes away from her heart shaped lips, his voice husky and low.
"Give me a reason not to," she said angrily, her dark eyes flashing, "Do it, Alistair, take me, and I'll show you proof of my fidelity! Spill my virgin blood and you will see that I have been a faithful wife!"
It was too much and he was helpless against her demands. When his lips met hers in a crushing and possessive kiss, Alistair lost all sense of reason and restraint. She was so close, her body pressing a line against his that set his skin ablaze. He moaned hungrily into her mouth, the sound swallowed as she parted her lips, allowing him access to deepen his embrace, tongues dueling for supremacy. His hands moved of their own accord, one fisting the cascade of hair at her nape, the other clutching her hip, urging her closer. When she pulled back to catch her breath, eyes half lidded, he growled at the loss of contact and tightened his grip, refusing to let another inch separate them.
"Would it not be better on a bed, Alistair?" Elissa panted, the familiar tartness to her voice goading him even further. In response he spun her about, pinning her to the wall and dipping his head to claim her mouth once again. She let out a gasp of surprise, one that soon turned to a gasp of pleasure as he thrust his pelvis into hers, marveling at how well her hips cradled him; a perfect fit. Alistair's hand caressed a burning trail over her skin, wanting to explore every inch of her exposed flesh, as if he would never get enough. Elissa's nail's pricked into his back as he trailed his fingers over her neck, her body arching into him, silently asking for more.
"Maker…you taste like every man's downfall," he whispered against her lips, breath hot and labored. She should have been angry at his words, furious, but lost as she was in that moment it did nothing but cause her to reclaim his mouth, kissing him with a renewed passion that lit the two of them with need. When at last Alistair claimed her, hoisting her in his arms to carry her to their bed, Elissa felt herself break apart with desire, surrendering herself completely to the man who lit her skin aflame.
It was miles away from gentle and everything the other needed. There was no love in their touch, only lust, primal and desperate. After, when the two collapsed, breathless and sated, neither were capable of forming speech. Had a group of eleven revolutionaries burst into the room, weapons drawn, neither would have been able to move let alone run from the attack, so completely sated were they. Minutes ticked by as they fought to regain control of their breathing. Elissa was first to come back to herself, shock, guilt, and heady satisfaction consuming her thoughts. When she had pictured this day it had been filled with determination and unpleasant acts, a duty she had to see through. Never did she think that she would be consumed with such an over whelming desire to be consumed and possessed. She had utterly abandoned herself to Alistair, and upon remembering the fight that had led to their consummation she felt shame over take her. This was a man who had accused her of infidelity, had spoken of divorce; yet with a few well placed caresses she had forgotten her anger, been driven by her base needs and surrendered to lust as if such hurtful words had never been spoken.
Feeling the sudden need to distance herself from the man beside her, she quickly rolled off the bed, hands reaching for her discarded gown. Clutching the fabric to her chest, wanting every inch of her exposed flesh hidden, she turned back to face her husband. He looked at her, eyes guarded and revealing nothing of what he was thinking. Unable to hide her own emotions, she flicked her gaze to the bed linens, eyes landing on a small smattering of crimson droplets that stained the crisp white.
"There is your 'infidelity,' my lord," she said softly, "I do hope you are not disappointed."
"Elissa-" he murmured, voice rich with a thousand emotions she was not prepared to deal with.
"Burn it," she said hastily, turning away, "or else the servants will talk. You cannot have taken my virtue twice, after all."
When he said nothing she walked steadily to the small bathing chamber attached to their rooms, never once looking back, afraid of what she would see in her husband's eyes. She closed the door softly behind her, heart clenching at the sound of Alistair sighing wearily from the bed, a sound so full of loss and satisfaction that it hurt to hear.