Chapter 13: Rose
In a fantastic stroke of irony, Cullen's family was completely uninterested in him for the duration of his visit. Instead, they were shamelessly interested in Evelyn.
The morning following the official consummation of their relationship, twice, Cullen took Evelyn on one more detour to purchase a very official engagement ring. Subsequently, after introducing Her-Worship-former-Inquisitor-Lady-Trevelyan as 'My Fiance Evelyn' to his family, all attention was directed at her and he was abruptly shoved off like the very uninteresting brother he'd always wanted to be.
He might have felt bad, throwing her to the wolves so to speak, but she seemed to take all the twittering and fawning in stride with reserved grace. She wasn't effusive but she answered all of their questions, even a few careless ones about her family and more than a few intrusive ones about starting a family of their own. They were vague answers. Answers that made him want to ask questions, but patience was the better part of valor for the time being so he would continue to quietly enjoy the triumphs he'd already achieved.
The past never came up in conversation, or inside Cullen's head, in favor of looking towards the future. He couldn't say for certain, however, what stray old strands of the past still lingered inside Evelyn's head though he hoped there weren't many. He did notice that instead of catching her staring down at the hand that wasn't there, a pained frown reflecting the pain behind her eyes, he would find her staring down at the hand that was there, where she wore his ring, and smiling.
After a short but sweet visit, they left behind South Reach and left behind the clutches of his family who were now ravenous over the prospect of a wedding. Just that quickly, it seemed, even without announcing to any of their friends yet, Evelyn had the start of a substantial 'real' wedding guest list. She was contently quiet on the short ride into Denerim and Cullen wondered if she was itemizing things like that in her head, things like guests and flowers. He hoped she was.
The Ferelden capital was a wonderful place to visit during the Harvestmere festivals. The old city had a comforting warmth to it, market stalls drawing you in with their bounty, awash with colors of rich orange, red, brown and dark yellows. The first fallen leaves crunched under their horse's hooves as Cullen led them to the stables. His summons from the King had been the perfect excuse for this trip but now he hoped the business they had to discuss would go quickly so he could enjoy the city and the festivities with Evelyn.
When they were almost at the gates of the palace, after taking the scenic route through town, she finally asked him why they were here.
"A bit late to be curious now, isn't it? What if I said the King was going to put me on trial for war crimes?"
"Is he?" She countered, deadpan.
"No, but…"
"Alright then." She drifted away from him and over to a merchant stall to browse the items. As she fingered a bolt of blue fabric, her face still expressionless, she baited him. "Rylen said you had to come to pay off your tab at The Pearl."
Rylen.
"Did he also tell you his tab was bigger?" Cullen would gladly play along with her teasing. With each passing day she seemed to recover something new, some small piece of herself, or build up a new part of herself where the brittle old parts had crumbled away. Even her off-color humor at his expense was thrilling to see.
"He told me something of his was bigger…"
His thrill died. He answered her original question through pursed lips. "King Alistair has made a generous offer to bring our former Templars into his personal guard when they feel ready to leave the farm, so he's granted me an audience to discuss the details so that I can extend his offer to everyone. Except Rylen."
Evelyn smiled and laughed. "Ah, but then we'd be stuck with him." She wandered away again heading for the palace gates. She mumbled intentionally loud enough for him to hear, "But if he stayed we could always take him up on his offer for a threesome…"
Cullen mumbled loudly right back. "We might just have to come back here for a trial afterall, love, when I murder Rylen."
xxxx
After the bustle of Cullen's family, the hustle of Denerim was almost sedate. Evelyn was enjoying herself, but felt she might do good to arrange some quiet time, so when Cullen asked her if she wanted to join him in his audience with the King she happily refused.
"Cullen, if I never have another audience with anyone even remotely important it will be too soon. I'm going to go for a walk. You're on your own. Good luck." She waved and left him at the door of the Landsmeet chamber, looking forward to minding her own business while others attended to theirs.
She took her time meandering around as the afternoon wore on and eventually found herself wandering through the 'gardens' of the Royal Palace, though she wasn't sure they could rightfully be called such by Orlesian standards, or any standards really other than Fereldan ones.
She passed through shaded copses jutting up between ancient fortifications, stone pathways overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, and a few scattered atria surrounded by palace walls, their bright patches of green grass striking against the muted grey of masonry. It was in one of those atria, lounging in the late afternoon sun, she found His Majesty King Alistair alone on a bench.
There was a wilted red rose lying next to him and, in contrast, there was a fresh one in front of him laid atop a marble plaque set into the ground. She must have been walking for long enough that he and Cullen had finished their meeting. At first she was going to tiptoe away to find Cullen, but something made her linger. But for his crown, slightly askew upon his head, the King looked nothing like a King. Admittedly she'd only met the man once before, and it was under slightly more dire circumstances. He'd had his retinue with him then, so at the time he seemed much more imposing than he did now. He was dressed plainly, and he seemed relaxed, legs extended, ankles crossed and leaning back on his hands. He had at least a few days of stubble on his face and he looked to be deep in thought, just staring down at the glossy square of marble at his feet.
Struck by curiosity, she took a creeping step forward, but it wasn't as stealthy as she'd hoped. Her movement disturbed a dove perched on a nearby bush and it fluttered noisily away. The King turned to the sound and saw her standing there.
So much for avoiding an audience.
Gathering herself, she bowed and tried to quickly bow out of the situation. "Sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty…" But he stopped her before she could scurry away.
"Inquisitor! Hello. Or, um, you know...'ex-Inquisitor'? Uh...Lady Trevelyan? Hm. Usually I have someone whispering in my ear how to address important people without offending them. You'll have to forgive me." The lopsided smile he offered her beneath his lopsided crown was endearing and she found herself smiling back at him.
"Just 'Evelyn' is fine, Your Majesty. I'm not so important anymore, and I'm finding I like it that way. And also, thank you for what you're doing for Cullen's Templars. I know how hard they've worked to forge new lives for themselves. They're good people who can still do good work."
"Mm." The King's smile faded a little as he turned back around to face the fresh rose. "It's important to feel like you have work to do. Especially when you've lost something. She taught me that." He nodded down at the plaque.
Compelled now, and drawn into this unexpected interaction, Evelyn walked forward to get a better look at the object that seemed to be the focus of Alistair's attention. Stupidly, she didn't think on the fact that she hadn't actually been invited further into his presence, but neither did he seem to mind when she approached him. He made room for her on the bench, and she sat. There was an engraving on the smooth surface of the stone.
Solona Amell, d. 9:31 Dragon. Mage. Warden. Hero. Beloved.
When the King spoke again his voice sounded familiar. The prosody, the intonation, the emotion. He sounded like she did. He sounded like Cullen. He sounded like each of the wayward Templars he would soon be recruiting into his service. He had lost something. As they all had. But he had work to do, and he moved on as they all must, yet the memory of what was once beloved lingered.
"Sometimes I think she made me King so I'd have something to do when she was gone." He laughed at his own joke. It was boyish warmth mingled with a quiet sadness.
They sat in peaceful silence. Evelyn thought about her own sadness. She remembered when it was loud, buzzing in her brain like a plague of locusts, swarming and destroying the rest of her. She remembered a dull and muted sadness, as if the buzzing was still there, but it's ever-presence numbed her to the vastness of it. And now, as she felt out her sadness, strange that she had to remember to look for it now, it was neither loud nor muted but...clear? Also strange, that word. Clear. Not a buzzing chaos out in the open or one where she'd simply shut a window on it. It was there and clear and it knew its place. She could acknowledge it or choose not to. She could let herself hear it, or set it aside and choose to hear something else. Like Cullen's whispers in her ear as they held each other close, or his laughter when she teased him.
Alistair's sadness, however, seemed even different from all of those. He was at ease with it, not overrun by it, nor controlled by it, nor controlling it. His sadness was dignified and silent, sitting next to him, like the wilted rose.
"Congratulations by the way!" He suddenly exclaimed. "Cullen told me about the wedding. I love weddings. There's always cake. You should get married here. I would offer to marry you myself, but I think that's ship captains, not kings, right? I could give away the bride though, I'm sure a King is qualified to do that."
Evelyn just stared, not quite knowing what to say to the monarch's sincere and kind enthusiasm. She should have tried harder to find something to say though because he misinterpreted her hesitation. He shook his head and waved his hands and Evelyn would swear she saw a blush rise on his cheeks beneath his beard.
"Oh, but well done, Alistair, inviting yourself to other people's weddings! Anyway, the offer is there Lady Evelyn." Then his voice changed a little again, the dignified sadness returning. "Cullen and Solona knew one another. A long time ago. Before she and I. And I consider Cullen a friend. So I think she would have wanted me to offer to give you away at least. Either that or she would have been appalled at my bad manners and I would have had to dodge a fireball."
Evelyn couldn't help the snort of a laugh she let out. Turning, she rested her good hand on top of the King's. "I'd be honored if you would give me away, Your Majesty. And I'll keep my fireballs to myself, I promise."
Alistair relaxed and chatted a bit more about Solona. Nothing consequential, but Evelyn knew it was the little things that often shone the brightest when one wanted to recall happy times.
"May I ask you a question, Your Majesty?"
"Just 'Alistair' is fine, by the way. If I give you away, that makes us close enough to family, so can we dispense with the titles? Then I won't have to worry about what to call you."
"Would you have married her, Alistair?"
"Absolutely." He answered almost before she even finished the question.
"But…"
Again he was quick with a response to the questions he didn't give her a chance to get out.
"But she was a mage? But we were Wardens? But the Chantry wouldn't condone it? But 'my subjects' might object? But she didn't have family ties or lands or titles or blah blah blah blah. I didn't really give a nug's arse about all that, to be honest. I loved her. She loved me. Bugger everything else. If we'd gotten the chance in the end, maybe it would have made me a bad King ignoring all those things, but I didn't care. Still don't. We deserved it. She deserved it. And if she'd lived, I would have given it to her. So, if you're asking for my very Kingly advice, enjoy your wedding and bugger everything else. And enjoy every moment while it lasts."
Alistair stood, paused, then reached down to pick up Solona's rose. He smiled and handed it to Evelyn, then left her alone in the garden, straightening his crown as he walked away.
It wasn't long before Cullen found her on the bench. She idly brushed the soft petals of the flower along her lips and inhaled the scent of it as he sat down next to her.
"I...uh...I understand the King is going to be giving you away at the wedding?" Cullen must have run into Alistair after he and Evelyn's brief, strange, and very forward conversation beside the Hero of Ferelden's memorial.
"Mmhm." She nodded.
"So, Her Holiness Divine Victoria is going to marry us and His Majesty the King of Ferelden is going to give you away?"
"Mmhm." She nodded again.
"Shall we ask the Imperial Archon to come and set off fireworks for us at the reception?"
"Does Dorian know him?"
He ignored her question, but offered a statement, spoken with a bit of chagrin, a profound sincerity and entirely in the spirit of enjoying the moment. "I love you, Evelyn."
"I love you too, Cullen."
A/N: I'm still just writing this in fits and starts when something comes to me and I'm not agonizing over it (or editing it much ;p ), I'm just writing what feels good and I'm still enjoying it a ton, so thank you for reading!