A/N: Oh man…you have NO IDEA how hard it was to keep this a secret. I've had this planned since the beginning and was basically one of the main reasons why I even WROTE this story. So with that said, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to KatDancer2, mandymc, clafount, and Apollo wings. You guys will understand once you start reading…thanks for sticking with me through two novel length stories…
One more chapter to go!
A mourning bell tolled grimly throughout Denerim, each peal betokening a sorrow that could not be named. The sound echoed through the rafters of the city's Chantry, ringing hollow in the chest of the lone mourner that stood vigil over the body entombed in state. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight chased merrily across the floor, dust motes and incense smoke twining an ethereal dance in their luminescence. It was a beautiful setting, one that would make even the most ardent non believer take pause, but the lone figure standing vigil paid her surroundings no mind, focused only on her contemplation.
Elissa stood over Shianni Tabris' flower bedecked pyre in silence, hardly moving, as she had done ever since the funeral service had let out an hour prior. Wanting to spend the last few moments in peace and contemplation before the extraordinary woman she had called "friend" was sent to the Maker in a burst of flame, Elissa had quietly but firmly ordered everyone, including the Reverend Mother to leave her alone in her mourning.
It had been three days since Mortain's evil plot had unfolded, and Elissa was no closer to finding answers as to why it had all happened. Oh logically she knew, but the answers she was seeking had little to do with motive and powers play, and more with fate and chance. The most persistent question being, why had this extraordinary, strong, willful woman been the one to lay dead on the ground, and her, the Queen, remain breathing.
After Alistair had rescued her, she had collapsed in on herself and gone nearly catatonic. She would not reply to questions or inquiries, and stared at the healers and her husband with dull, unfeeling eyes. Alistair had been so alarmed by her state that he insisted she be sedated, reasoning that she needed rest. She was complacent with such an order until a healer, human, but bearing the same black hair and gray eyes as Mortain leaned down to obey. It was then that she erupted, screaming wildly and lashing out with madness. It had taken Alistair, Zevran, and another, unknown, man to restrain her so that the medics could be allowed to work. Fighting all the way she slipped into the fade and was plagued by nightmares of bloodied elves and loved ones lost.
When she awoke some time later, she found herself laid up in her and Alistair's bed, a familiar and worried face looming over her. When she realized it was Ambrose she burst into tears and wailed her grief to the rafters. Her friend held her gingerly, still recovering from his own share of trauma, and together the two mourned the loss of their dear friend Shianni. After they had wrung themselves hollow of tears, Elissa had composed herself enough to ask how the others were faring. To her great relief she was told that not only would Ambrose himself survive, but so would Torin and the remaining elven guard, all save two; their wounds had been dire, but easily tended two once under the supervision of the castle healers. Once all the questions had been asked, the pair quietly reminisced about the all too brief time in which they had known Shianni, and for the first time since she was captured, Elissa found herself laughing. After an hour had passed, two servants quietly knocked at her door and informed her that Ambrose needed to return to the sick room for further observation. Her friend gave her a wink before allowing the men to hoist him onto a nearby litter and carry him away. Elissa was left alone with her dark thoughts and eventually fell into a fitful slumber. If Alistair joined her in their great bed, he was gone before she woke, and she felt his absence like a knife to the heart. She was all too aware of the chasm that still lay between them, but none the less, she craved his touch as if it were a balm that would soothe her shattered soul.
Elissa would have loved nothing more than to lose herself in grief and despair, but the weight of her title hung heavy about her neck, and the next morning she set herself about the business of arranging funerals for the honored dead. And so it was that she came to stand before a flower strewn pyre, her friend daintily laid among the blossoms, tart and willful voiced forever silenced.
"She would have hated this, you know," an unknown voice intoned wryly and Elissa whipped her head around to see a lithe woman step out from behind the massive stone effigy of Andraste. "All this attention and frippery? I can almost hear the tirade now."
The woman was all grace and danger, clad in black leather breeches that fit like a second skin, and a sleeveless scarlet vest that flared seductively about her collar bones. Her ebony hair was shorn into a short and severe bob that framed the delicate bones of her face in a haunting way, and emerald eyes flashed predatory and sorrowful out of creamy, milk white skin.
"Forgive me for interrupting your mourning," the woman continued, glidingly silently up to the pyre, "I heard your decree from my perch in the rafters, but seeing as no one knows about my presence in this twice damned city I find that my options for saying goodbye to my cousin are rather limited."
Elissa started at the words and felt her heart stop dead in her chest as the woman casually swept a lock of black hair behind a delicately pointed ear. The pieces fell into place and Elissa knew with a certainty who this deadly, beautiful, elf standing before her was: none other than Harlow Tabris herself.
Oblivious to the Queen's discomfort and shock, Harlow deftly drew a dagger from her boot and quietly cut a lock of her silky hair, gently laying the strands beneath Shianni's cold and still palms.
"Ah, Cousin," she said, wistfulness and sorrow lacing every syllable of her words, "I'm sorry I was too late. I was too busy playing 'least in sight' to be of any use to you this time. My mistake. I should have said 'damn them all' and saved you, but I didn't realize how deadly that monster Mortain truly was. I hope one day you can forgive me…and while my hand wasn't the one to slay your villain, please take comfort in knowing I did cut down his ally, and left him to fester in the streets. Small consolation, but there it is. I'll miss you, Shianni, more than I can say."
Harlow closed her eyes and laid a hand upon her cousin's brow, a sad smile painting her lips. Elissa watched with a guarded expression, sympathy and anxiety warring within her. When at last the elf had finished her goodbye she sighed and regarded the queen with a slight grin and arms folded over her chest.
"So you're Elissa Cousland," she said wryly, eyebrow quirked in disbelief.
"And you're Harlow Tabris," Elissa responded softly, "Forgive me, but your husband's letter left the impression that you would not be journeying to Denerim. I am most confused by your sudden appearance."
Harlow let out a soft chuckle and shook my head, "Zev's not my husband…paramour is a more apt description. You've met the man, so you should know firsthand just how appalled he would be by the idea of marriage."
"He is…quite enthusiastic in his interactions," Elissa said politely, trying to frame the seductive assassin's personality in a way that wouldn't offend.
"Oh, Your Majesty, his interactions is just the surface of what he's enthusiastic about," the elf replied with a wink. "And Zevran has no idea I'm here, a bit of information I'd appreciate you keep to yourself if at all possible. I remember all too well how the court likes to gossip."
"Why would you hide yourself?" Elissa asked in bafflement.
"Because for all that my dear assassin acts the lothario, he is undeniably possessive. If he knew I was in the same city as Alistair he would have twenty different kinds of fits, each involving some very creative and unique Antivan curses. But I knew that things were very, very wrong here, and I thought I would be able to help in some way," she said wearily, turning to once more gaze up her cousin, "apparently it wasn't help enough, though I did what I could."
Elissa puzzled over the words and let out a gasp in surprise, "It was you!" she cried thrusting a finger out to emphasize her point, "You were the one that slaughter Simon. Try as we might we couldn't fathom who was behind it; all the guardsmen were in the cellar, none posted outside. In the end it was decided Sabine had finally fought back against her oppressors, seeing as we have seen not a trace of her since that night. But I knew that such a thing was impossible…not after I had seen how far into the abuse she had sunk."
"She is safe, if you were wondering," Harlow offered, "and before you ask, no I will not tell you where. The last thing that woman needs is to be questioned and berated. Let her live out her life and heal far away from the memory of Mortain. And yes, I will happily claim credit for Simon's death, though only to you. It was a distinct and sincere pleasure to feel his blood on my hands."
Elissa paled at the undisguised glee in Harlow's voice, remembering for the first time that in addition to being named the Hero of Ferelden, she was a very skilled, very deadly, assassin. The other woman took no notice of the queen's reaction and glided gracefully over to a nearby pew, flopping down with an insolent smirk.
"Are we going to engage in pleasantries all day, or are we going to address what's really on your mind, Elissa?" she asked pointedly, letting her gaze rake over the monarch's body in a measuring sort of way. "You're prettier than I remember."
"How very galling that must be for you," Elissa said with a bit of heat, "Should I apologize for my appearance? Alistair seems to be quite taken with it."
Harlow laughed and shook her head before saying, "I'm pleased to see you have some spirit in you. Our Alistair does have penchant for strong women."
"You would be the expert in such matters," Elissa said darkly, turning away.
"You seem to be under the impression that we are rivals," Harlow inquired gently and Elissa rounded on her in anger.
"Aren't we, my lady? 'Our' Alistair? Truer words were never spoken, for all that I am his wife you are still twisted up in his life, patiently waiting for the years to pass until you can once more be together and I will be left behind, to mourn a man who was never truly mine to begin with," she cried, her heart laid bare in her words. Harlow let her rant with placid eyes, never flinching from her words. Elissa tensed, breathing hard, waiting for the elf to strike back and her with her own share of vitriol, but was surprised when all that left Harlow was a weary sigh.
"I don't view us as that at all," she said softly, hanging her head between her legs. "At one time, yes…I thought of you as this simpering noble woman, so very pretty and rich come to steal away the man I loved. But that was before Zev and before many other things…the details of which I'll spare you as I'm pretty sure you do not relish hearing an in-depth account of our relationship."
"How very intuitive of you," Elissa grumbled, folding her arms across her chest.
"The thing to take away from this," Harlow said with a bit less patience, "is that you have nothing to fear…from me at least. I've seen the way the young ladies at court watch Alistair…it's frightening really how predatory they are. If I wasn't as stunningly awesome with a blade as I am reputed to be, I'd almost be afraid of them."
"And that is where I have you beat, my lady," Elissa said with a measure of humor, "you may excel at killing creatures made of nightmares, but I am the expert at navigating the deadly waters of palace intrigue."
"As I said, our Alistair does admire strength and forbearance in the women he loves," Harlow replied with a smirk. It faltered a minute later and she rose to her feet with a sigh, coming to stand before the queen with resigned eyes. "And he does love you, Elissa. Anyone in attendance at today's proceedings would have to be blind not to see it. Even an assassin perched in the rafters picked up on his feelings."
"You can't know that," Elissa whispered in protest and turned to walk away, but Harlow caught her about the shoulder, urging her to stay.
"I know Alistair," was her firm reply, "as much as it might pain you to admit it, I spent the better part of two years loving that man, I know every one of his tells. The way he looked at you…his heart in his eyes, gaze never once leaving your face. I never thought I would see such a look on his face again…lest it was aimed at me. I won't lie and say I am thrilled at the prospect, but I am happy enough in my current life that I can accept his feelings for you will good cheer. He loves you, Your Majesty…so much that I'm not sure my presence in his life, real or imagined, would make much difference now."
"And the calling?" Elissa pressed, "What happens then? He knows how much this…connection to you pains me, but he refuses to renege on the promise he made you."
"And whether you're willing to admit it or not, you really don't want him to," Harlow said carefully, "if he did, he wouldn't be the man you love. The calling is something only he and I can share, Elissa. You will never understand what waits for us below ground…frankly, I wouldn't want you to, because it is a nightmare most are not fit to bear. Not even Zevran will fully understand, and he traversed those dark paths right by our side. We know what is in store for us…and perhaps it is a measure of mercy that we spare those who choose to love us the heart ache of watching us descend into madness cruelty."
"It's all so strange," Elissa said with a watery laugh, "I never expected to fall in love with the man. But he has this infuriating way of creeping below your emotional walls and making himself at home."
"Something I know all too well, my Queen," Harlow said with a laugh before sobering once more. "Elissa, truly…you want no part of your husband's death. Let your last memories of him be filled with the life you created together, not of him trying to walk the border of sanity and failing. That is my burden not yours."
"Stranger still, I did not expect to like you," Elissa said after a pregnant pause, the words strangely sorrowful.
"Likewise," came Harlow's amused reply. She seemed to struggle with something in her mind before muttering "sod it" and grasping the Queen's hands in hers. "You have nothing to fear from me, Elissa. I will not show up on your doorstep to claim what is no longer mine. Trust me when I say that it would end oh so badly for everyone involved, including myself. Alistair and I…we don't fit unless there is a battle raging around us…and as I told him when I left, I'm sick of fighting. Zevran and I? We are matched rather well and he adores me so…not that I can really blame him. I am more than content to live out my days with my dashing Antivan Elf in Amaranthine. There is nothing left for me in Denerim. Be satisfied with that."
Elissa nodded and cleared her throat, head swimming with revelations. She pulled her hands from Harlow's grasp and hesitantly grasped the hilt of one of Harlow's many daggers. The elf tensed at the movement, hands reaching for other weapons but stopped short when Elissa merely brought the blade to rest against her mahogany hair, sawing through a think chunk with a bare detectable sigh. Elissa said nothing as she strode to Shianni's pyre and gently placed the locks next to Harlow's, studying the contrast of texture with a faint smile. Leaning down to lay a lingering and farewell kiss upon her friend's brow, she whispered "goodbye" and rose, her bearing no longer mournful, but that of a stately Queen readying to great the world. Harlow watched her go, not making a sound, emerald eyes guarded against a myriad of emotions. Elissa paused at the door and tilted her head ever so slightly as to direct her words to the elven woman.
"It was an honor to meet you, Harlow. You, much like your cousin, are a remarkable woman. I do so hope we never meet again," she said quietly.
"Likewise, Your Majesty," Harlow said with the slightest dip of an exaggerated curtsey, a true and genuine smile upon her delicate features. Elissa laughed and pulled open the great chantry doors and strode out into the sunlight, letting it wash the grief and uncertainty from her soul. Eyes flicking to the horizon, she sighed and began the long, winding stroll back to the castle, her heart lifting with every step.