A/N: So so so sorry it took so long. My dad was visiting from out of town and as I rarely get to see him spent every free minute I had with him.
I have a feeling I may have to defend Elissa in this chapter *readies self for flying fruit.*
Lastly, I've been thinking of posting some of my original work on FictionPress (the sister site to this archive.) Have any of my loyal, wonderful, talented and oh-so pretty readers used the site? If so what were your opinions on it? I ask mostly because I do plan on publishing a certain piece and I worry about plagiarism. I would use the site mostly for beta testing the work, seeing what works and what doesn't from a wide audience. Thoughts?
Elissa swallowed hard as the servant announced her guest's arrival. At her side Alistair stood tall, a hand resting on her shoulder, reassuring her with his touch. Shianni swept into the room, her hair once more in a myriad of ponytails, a rough woolen dress clinging to her frame. Gone was every inch of the sumptuous silks and cosmetics Elissa had purchased for the elf. It was as if Shianni wanted her to remember exactly where the Bann to the Alienage came from.
"Your Majesties," she said stiffly, sweeping into a deep bow. Elissa closed her eyes and Alistair sighed heavily beside her.
"Get up, Shianni," Alistair murmured. The elven woman rose, hands clasped demurely in front of her, eyes cast at the stone floor: the exact and precise manner in which one addresses their monarch. "Oh for the love of-just stop it, already," the king snorted, eyes rolling heavenwards.
"Stop what, Your Majesty?" she murmured.
"You know exactly what I'm speaking of. In the three years I have known you, you have never bothered to observe royal protocol, and I can count on one hand the number of times you've actually called me by my title. You're doing this to bring Elissa low, and that is simply…bitchy"
"Maybe I wouldn't have to be bitchy if she hadn't brought me low in the first place!" Shianni snapped, hands dropping from place to rest on her hips, eyes flashing with their familiar fire. It was amazing how quickly the transformation from dour vassal to spunky spitfire took place, and Elissa fought hard against the smile that pulled at her lips, knowing it would be taken amiss considering the circumstances.
"I am truly sorry for that," Elissa said softly, drawing Shianni's gaze at last. "Please believe me; I am horrified that such a slander ever passed my lips. Never before have I used such vitriol, and I am sickened that I now have."
"I see, you were just waiting to use that witty gem of a slur against the woman you claimed to call 'friend,'" the elf spat back.
"I have no excuse for my behavior, and the fact that I once called you 'friend' and still do, despite whatever ill will you harbor me, pains me even more that you were the target of my rage," Elissa pleaded, eyes beseeching her to understand. "Shianni…I was so shaken by the evil Mortain laid at my doorstep I could barely think straight, and I spoke without thought, without pause, nay, without sanity."
"Such a pretty tale you spin, Elissa," Shianni muttered, "but it does not change the fact that 'knife ear' passed your lips. If you spoke it, you thought it, and that's all the proof I need to know where you stand."
"Then let us discuss where you stand," Elissa said rising, her temper flaring hot, "I may have called you knife ear, but how many times have you branded me 'shem' and nary an apology has passed your lips?"
"Shem is a bastardization of a cultural word!" Shianni protested.
"Yes, and do tell me what Dalish tribe you hail from?" Elissa mocked, "Truth, Shianni, your race has turned that word into a slur against my people, and yet you think to sling mud at me for a slip of the tongue that I have apologized for twice over now, when you yourself are guilty of the same damn thing!"
"Ah, I see we have come to the part of the evening where you shovel the blame on your adversary. Oh, Andraste, how I have missed your antics, Elissa!"
"Oh, that is absolutely it! I swear, Shianni-"
"Ladies!" Alistair boomed. Both women rounded on him, their glares fierce. He blanched a little at all that frustration focused on him, but stood his ground. "Maker, you two are scary."
"So astute for a shem," Shianni hissed and Elissa screeched like a tea kettle.
"There! There it is again!"
"Will both of you just please!" Alistair interjected once more. "This is getting us nowhere. Elissa, you cannot force Shianni to forgive you."
"Thank you!" the elven woman in question cried, hands thrown up in the air.
"And you," the king said, thrusting a finger in Shianni's direction, "of all people, do not get to hold the moral high ground. I've been called far worse than 'shem' by you and shrugged it off, but let's not pretend you are a highborn lady, Shianni. You, and half the kingdom to boot, know that decorum is a foreign concept to you. I am only amazed Elissa managed to bite her tongue for so long."
Both women muttered sulky arguments, arms folded across their chests as they turned their heads. Alistair shook his head and pulled his wife's chair out from behind the massive oak desk and motioned for her to sit. Elissa did so begrudgingly, sticking her tongue out as she did so.
"See now? Isn't uncomfortable silence so much better than screaming?" he asked cheerfully.
"Being a master of both disciplines, I'm sure you are an authority on such matters," Elissa grumbled.
"As you well know, I'm quite the authority on screaming, though probably not in the way you meant," He whispered wickedly and Elissa blushed furiously and swatted him away, an appalled sort of smile on her face. Shianni watched the exchange with calculating eyes, folding her arms over her chest.
"So that's the way of it now?" she asked, "my, but it has been a busy few hours for the royal couple."
"That is none of your business, Shianni," Elissa stated coolly, "but since you speak of hours, let us talk of why I summoned you. You are aware the time frame I gave to elves to turn in Mortain is quickly closing."
"Yes. Am I here to ready my people to be dragged into the streets like criminals and slaughtered by the authority of the crown?"
"No, you are here to carry out an order from your regent," the queen replied simply.
"You are just the most entitled sort of stupid if you think I'm going to oversee the repression of those I have sworn to protect," Shianni said with a bitter laugh.
"Protecting them is exactly what I am ordering you to do," Elissa said wearily, as she leaned back into her chair. "Shianni, when I made that declaration I was reeling from the horror of Mortain's message. Something had to be done, something still needs to be done, but upon further reflection I believe I may have been overly harsh in my orders."
It was true. In the moments when her thoughts had been free of Eamon, her marriage, and the sudden shift in her feelings for Alistair, she had dwelled on that harsh and line drawing declaration that had passed her lips. With each hour that ticked by, she felt sicker and sicker, knowing that she was about to alienate and punish the very people she had once sought to protect. In the end, as the hour drew closer, Elissa knew she could not see it through. She undertook this particular battle, and Maker willing she was going to emerge victorious, but she refused to be remembered as tyrant before being remembered as a queen.
"May have been overly harsh?" Shianni parroted, "do you need a vocabulary lesson, Elissa? I believe the word you were searching for was 'completely and utterly no question about it.'"
"That's seven words, actually," Alistair piped in, clearing his throat.
"Shut. Up." Shianni said with icy precision. Alistair raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, eyebrows raised high.
"If we could please remain on topic," Elissa sighed in exasperation. "As I was saying, I may have been overly harsh, but the fact remains that I must respond to this outrage. For months now that blighted elf has been trying to goad the throne into striking out against his operation. We have been able to ignore him for the most part as his tactics were nothing more than annoyances that could be shrugged off or quickly dealt with. But it seems he has learned something of civil disobedience and has finally done something that illicit a reaction. Thus, I must oblige him, though I hope it will not incite further violence."
"And what is your brilliant plan, her very high and mightiest champion of the elven people?" Shianni asked bitterly.
"Stop it," Alistair warned, all trace of good will and familiar tolerance absent from his voice.
"Firstly," Elissa continued, ignoring the rising tempers in the room, "I am temporarily suspending the elven guard. They will remain in the palace walls under the watch of the guard captain, and spend their days training to hone their formidable skills. This, more than anything, is for their protection. I will not have Mortain and his zealots deposit another bloody head on my doorstep, not when I can protect those men with all the power at my disposal."
"Agreed," Shianni said reluctantly, as though the very word pained her. Elissa simply nodded before laying out the rest of her edict.
"Secondly, I am imposing a curfew on the Alienage. All inhabitants must be in doors by nine bells, and any gathering, public or otherwise, comprised of more than three elves will be considered suspect and the offenders put to questioning."
"Absolutely not!" the elven woman sputtered, taking a step forward in disbelief.
"Lastly, Mortain's wife, Sabine, is to be brought to the castle and held as a surety of Mortain's cooperation. Whilst she is here she will be treated gently and with respect. As soon as our revolutionary friend turns himself in, she will be released. "
Silence descended upon the room and Shianni stared at the queen with the weight of utter horror. Elissa held herself straight, though her hands trembled beneath the wooden desk, hidden from sight.
"You wouldn't dare to stoop so low," Shianni breathed after a time.
"Wouldn't I? You should recognize the gambit well enough, for your cousin gave me the idea. When Harlow fostered the nobility of Amaranthine's children as a surety against their parent's loyalty, it caused quite the stir amongst the other holdings. We in Highever quite admired her ruthlessness."
"You cold hearted bitch, don't you ever compare yourself to my cousin. She is a thousand times the woman you will ever be."
"I thought that would be your response, so I offer you an alternative. Sabine may remain where she is, but in turn I expect Mortain's known accomplices brought before the court," Elissa countered softly.
"Done, fetch me some parchment and you will have the names," Shianni accepted quickly. Elissa gently shook her head and closed her eyes.
"No, Shianni. I cannot simply hand a list to my guard and have them round up the criminals. It would do nothing but enforce Mortain's dogma of the evil humans crushing the righteous elves. It must be you that heads the arrests."
"You expect me to clap my own people in irons?" she demanded, slapping her hands down hard against the wooden desk.
"You are the Bann to the Alienage, Shianni. You are the voice, the figurehead, and the authority of your vassals. If they step outside the law it is your responsibility to see justice done. Did you think that you would merely reap the rewards of having been handed power? Did you think there was no dark side to that title? If so, I welcome you with a heavy heart to the reality of being named nobility. So rarely are we painted the heroes in the common man's eyes, unknowing as they are of what exactly it costs us to keep the world turning."
"I will never forgive you for this," Shianni murmured low, eyes closing in defeat. Elissa nodded, and reached a hand out in comfort to grasp her once friend.
"I know," she whispered, the syllables broken and painful, "you would not be the fiery, strong willed woman I admire so if you did. But none the less, it must be done."
Shianni briefly squeezed the Queen's hand, a tear sliding down her cheek, though whether it was shed for the friendship that lay dead between them or the imminent betrayal of her people was unknown. Between one heart beat and the next, Elissa felt the elven slip away, and the feeling of loss that accompanied that one movement was so great that it nearly felled her.
"You shall have your prisoners by morning," Shianni said stiffly before turning to regard Alistair, who stared at her with compassion laced eyes. "I hope you can rationalize this to yourself Alistair, because Maker help you when you try to explain it away to Harlow."
"I would hope, having spent her own time bent beneath the weight of a royal title, that she would understand our decision," he hedged softly. Shianni shook her head and turned her back on the royal couple. The guard's stationed at the door swept it open and the woman slipped away from sight, nearly kicking an elven maid who scrubbed the floors near the archway. Elissa sighed wearily and leaned back in her chair, hands rising to cover her face. Distantly she heard Alistair settle near her and she turned to regard him with tear stained eyes.
"I'm sorry," he offered quietly and Elissa was undone, her tears flowing in a heartbreaking rush. Alistair gently pulled her into his embrace and muttered soothing words of nonsense as she mourned the friendship fractured beyond repair by the weight of her title. Never in her life had she hated her crown and royal blood more than in that moment.
~oOo~
Mortain glanced over the pile of missives written code, the letters dancing in the light of a flickering candle. The damp and moldy scent of the cellar pervaded his nose, bringing with it the sense memory of being crammed within similar confines in Tevinter. For too many nights he had slept on slime slicked stone, pressed against his fellow slaves. Moans had filled the air, men and women writhing in pain from the wounds, both physical and soul deep, they had suffered at the hands of the magister they served. The memory almost hurt to bear and Mortain closed his eyes against it, fixing his rage like a talisman to pray over until the anxiety and fear passed. Letting out a clam breath he once more focused on the pages before him.
A light tapping on the cellar door drew his attention and he grunted his approval, eyes still fixed on the coded missives. With nary a sound Simon slipped into the room, a slight elven woman trailing behind.
"And who do we have here?" Mortain asked lazily, never once raising his eyes.
"I'm Celeana," the woman muttered, bowing her head in respect, "I work in the castle as a scullery maid."
"One of our many sets of ears installed in the palace," Simon supplied in explanation.
"And? Have our ears heard anything of use?" Mortain inquired, finally deigned himself to regard the woman, hands steepled into points. Celeana cleared her throat and began her tale, each syllable bringing a wider and wider grin upon the revolutionaries face. When she had at last finished her tale she swept a curtsy, head bowed low. Mortain rose from his chair and walked around the desk to regard her, cupping her delicate chin in his hand. When she rose her face to meet his, eyes sparkling with belief and adoration, he ran his thumb gently across her jaw.
"Such a loyal and obedient woman, offering fealty to her lord," he muttered, gently bidding her to rise. As he caressed her cheek he tilted his head back, directing his next words to the bruised woman huddling in the corner. "Do you see, Sabine, what loyalty looks like?" His wife said nothing, but whimpered her assent. Mortain grinned and dismissed Celeana with a flick of his wrist. She spared him one more longing glance before taking her leave, leaving him and Simon to converse in private.
"This is a gift," he friend muttered happily and Mortain clapped him on the back.
"Indeed, and it is not even my name day. It appears we must move things farther a pace, yes?""
Simon grinned, a rare and disturbing show of emotion and grabbed the stack of papers from the desk.
"As my lord commands," the man supplied before slipping once more out of the cellar, leaving Mortain alone with his terrified wife and memories that drove him to his vision of a brave new world.