doristhe changer: Aww, thank you. Having readers tell me the story makes them laugh is always the best compliment. And yep, something very shiny for Shale. She certainly deserves it. ;)
Chapter 24 - Going to the Chapel
"You're awake! Thank the Maker!"
I woke up to a stranger's face hovering over me. A tiny elven woman with a pale face framed by spiky black hair smiled brightly at me. There was such a warm gentleness in her smile, so much affection in her dark brown eyes—love, actually. Confused and still quite dizzy I blinked at her, wondering who she was. I was sure I had never seen her before, yet there was something familiar about her. And the way she looked at me... It was impossible, really. I must have been mistaken—and still...
"Who... who are you?" I asked puzzled, my voice hoarse as if I hadn't used it in a while. "Where am I? What happened? Where is Rori?"
"So many questions," the elf chuckled as she helped me lift my head to drink a sip of water. "I best answer them one by one or we'll get all confused." She winked at me, grinning impishly. I guessed her to be in her early forties—I wasn't sure. It's so hard to guess a woman's age, even harder when she's an elf, but her grin made her look like a young girl. "I am Grand Enchanter Fiona," she introduced herself.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I replied politely, causing her smile to widen. She now grinned from ear to ear. Weakly I returned her smile. Maker! I was so dizzy. "I cannot remember you, yet you seem familiar. Have we met before?"
"No!" she exclaimed forcefully, her smile wiped off her face. I was taken aback by her reaction, but before I could wonder about it she went on quickly: "You are still in West Hill. You do remember there was a fight after the Grand Cleric supported you?"
"Ugh, yeah, now that wasn't pretty... How many died that day?"
"I don't know the exact numbers. Far too many I daresay. Without the Denerim reinforcement, your side certainly would have lost. At least that's what I heard. And then you got stabbed."
I pulled a face and touched my chest where the knife had sunken in. "I died," I muttered.
"It was a close shave," Fiona confirmed. "Wynne could stabilize you but you lapsed into a coma. A raven was sent to Kinloch Hold. I was paying a visit to Irving and when I heard of what had happened, I volunteered to help. This Arl Wulff made quite a fuss about my presence," she added, her Orlesian accent becoming heavier,"but Mrs. Couldry knocked some sense into him. She's a remarkable woman."
"Undoubtedly." I agreed.
"You were unconscious for three weeks. Our hope was already fading but then you showed signs of recognition when the little ginger talked to you—and now here you are." She smiled again that warm, gentle smile of hers. I instantly felt loved and protected. Crazy, right? I mean, I didn't know that woman a bit.
"Rori! Where is she?"
Fiona just pointed to the other side of the bed. With enormous effort I turned my head and there she was, curled up in an armchair with Furdinand and both fast asleep. She wore her funny rainbow coloured stripped socks, sticking out from under the blanket Fiona had wrapped around her and the dog. My heart skipped a beat, a surge of warmth swept through my body, erasing whatever pain tormented me for that moment. Maker's Breath! She was beautiful. And I loved her. I heaved a sigh of pure happiness, smiling foolishly at the sleeping girl. For that moment I was content just watching her. I knew it wouldn't last. Reality would strike soon.
"She hardly left your side," Fiona said, regarding me with fond amusement. "She took care of you, talked to you, sang to you, held your hand. She worked her very own magic on you when Wynne and I were at our wit's end. We were convinced we had lost you. It seemed you had given up—as had we—but Lady Rori, she never surrendered."
"She's as stubborn as a Storm Coast ram," I chuckled—and instantly regreted it as a sharp pain pierced my chest. "Ouch!"
"You should rest," Fiona said softly.
"I've rested for weeks," I yawned, hardly able to keep my eyes open. "I cannot laze about..."
"Sleep well, my dear boy..."
And sleep I did.
That voice—and the melody she hummed. I had the strangest dreams afterwards. I cannot really remember. All I know is that it was fuzzy and warm and cozy and I felt safe from any harm. Weird. Maybe some kind of spell...
When I drifted back to consciousness I found myself sandwiched by Rori and Furdinand with the dog drooling onto my shoulder and snoring into my ear. Rori was half wrapped around me, nuzzling the crook of my neck. Rori's eyes fluttered open when I stirred, Furdinand just kept snoring. She yawned and stretched like a cat, then rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her hair a tousled mess, one curl tickling the tip of her nose. Instantly I knew this was the sight I wanted to wake up every morning from now on for the rest of my life. Wishful thinking unless I kicked the bucket within the next few days. Just because I had almost been stabbed to death didn't mean all my problems had POOFed! Quite the contrary. I was pretty sure new problems had piled up while I had been down and out. But for this short moment it was only Rori and I—and Furdinand blowing his dog breath in my neck.
"Maker's Breath, but you are beautiful," I whispered when Rori beamed at me, squealing with delight when she hugged and kissed me.
"I'd really like to return the compliment. Truth is, you look terrible," she grinned, nuzzling my nose happily.
"Is it that bad?" I asked, worriedly running my fingers through my hair. It was a mess, far too long and completely out of place. A complete disaster for someone obsessed with his hair.
"It's worse," Rori said mercilessly. "But I still love you."
"Whew, ain't I lucky?" I chuckled.
"Very lucky," Rori beamed, showering my rather hairy face with kisses.
There were a dozen questions or more I wanted to ask her, a hundred things to take care of, but there was a silent agreement between us to not spoil this precious moment together. So, instead of discussing our uncertain future, Rori fed me with soup, spoonful by spoonful. Only then did I realize how hungry I was. My beloved nurse was very pleased with me when I emptied a second bowl. Then she lathered my face and shaved me, chatting merrily about Furdinand's and Barkspawn's latest adventures and that Wulff ordered a statue made in Shale's honour. The golem drove the poor sculptor crazy. Nothing was ever good enough for it. And today the poor man had run screaming from his workroom with Shale's laughter following him. He had only just sat down with his hammer and chisel in hand when the statue suddenly shouted "BOO!", scaring the sculptor half to death. The insidious golem had hidden the statue and taken its place, unnoticed by the sculptor.
It felt good to be clean shaven again—and quite awkward when Rori washed the rest of me. "Stop being so finicky, Alistair," she scolded me when I squirmed and stammered and embarrassed pulled the blanket up to my chin. "It's not as if I haven't seen these parts before!" How to explain to a determined woman on a body hygienic crusade the difference of being starckers when making hot love to her and of the humiliation of being but a naked shadow of my former self, my body a ruin and me helpless. I tried but all I got for an answer was: "But you stink, Alistair."
"You sleep next to Furdinand and complain about me smelling bad?"
"You're not a dog, Alistair. But now that you mention it, Furdinand is in dire need of a bath, too..." As soon as the words had left her mouth the mabari fled under the bed. Smart move.
"You do recall I was brought up by flying dogs from The Anderfels, don't you?"
"With that smell how could I ever forget?" Rori teased. "You're still manly and sexy—and so incredibly cute when you blush," she laughed, ruffling my hair, when I stubbornly shook my head no.
"You're an evil woman!" I huffed, clutching my blanket even tighter.
"Evil, dangerous, and armed. Beware of the wrath of the spongespawn, mwhahaha!"
Armed with a dripping wet sponge, she pulled the blanket away. But I wasn't going to go down without a fight. Weakened by weeks of lying in bed I was no match for Rori and got thoroughly womanhandled, but at least in the end she was as wet as me. Straddled by the readheaded little imp, my hands pinned to either side of my head by her, I had to accept my defeat.
"Look what you've done," Rori scolded me, looking down her front at the thoroughly soaked formerly white and now rather transparent blouse clinging to her body.
"The view has certainly improved a great deal," I purred. Our romp had exhausted me, but Rori's hot core pressed against my manhood with only the smooth silk of her panties in between us was enough to revive me. It seemed I wasn't as dead as I had thought to be.
"As has the smell," Rori added with an impish grin as she peeled the wet garment off her skin, dropping it to the floor unceremonously but crossed her arms in front of her scarred chest shyly when she caught me staring, her sudden boldness swept away by her insecurity. "I... I should go..." she muttered, hiding her face behind a veil of red curls. "You're still weak and you need rest..."
"Rori," I whispered softly, gently taking both her hands in mine, brushing my thumbs across her palms. "You're beautiful." With a lopsided grin I added. "I would have to be dead as a gryphon not to notice."
"Flatterer," Rori muttered, a smile tucking at the corners of her lips. "Still... you need rest..."
"D'awww, but you wouldn't leave me without a kiss, would you?" I pouted.
Grinning, Rori bent down to nibble my lips teasingly, her milky white breasts pressing against my bare skin. And from that point on one thing lead to another. Afterwards I was so spent I pretty much passed out right in the middle of my own orgasm.
Next time I opened my eyes Eamon's face appeared in sight. "Your Majesty," he said. "We have hunted down many traitors, yet they succeeded in murdering the Warden Commander..."
Oh wow! King business! How I missed being loaded with insolvable problems! Nothing like tricky governance stuff to ginger up your life!
"... the situation demands you take action at once..."
Yeah, sure. Three weeks in a coma couldn't stop me. I had to go from zero to hero blazingly fast as soon as I woke up. A piece of cake—when I hadn't ingested solid food for almost a month now.
"... a darkspawn army is reported to march on Amaranthine..."
Doom!
DOOM!
Oh bloody blast it! Three weeks and the whole blasted kingdom was falling appart. I wouldn't have minded another three weeks' rest, but without anybody to command the Grey Wardens and me the only senior Warden anywhere close by, I couldn't afford to stay in bed. I knew what the darkspawn would do, should they conquer the city.
"O-okay, just gimme a minute," I groaned, trying to sit up in bed and failed completely. My head was spinning, my whole body ached and I collapsed back onto the matress.
"Your Majesty? Alistair?" I heard Eamon call me worriedly.
All he got for a reply was a pained grunt when I finally rolled out of bed and, clutching the bedpost for support, stood on wobbly knees—for about ten seconds or so—before I slid onto the rug. And that's where I stayed, gasping for air.
Eamon shook me by my shoulders, slapping my cheeks gently to get me back to my feet until Wynne came upon him like wrath incarnate, like instantly. Through the crack of a half-opened eye, I watched her usher Eamon out of my room.
"Arl Eamon, with all due respect, leave the poor boy alone! After all he has gone through he deserves some rest. You handled the affairs of the kingdom quite well the last few weeks; you will manage without his Majesty for another one or two until he has fully recovered!" Wynne firmly closed the door behind Eamon.
"You realize I don't have another two weeks," I muttered, pulling myself back onto the bed. "Whatever spell it takes to get me going, use it." It wasn't only about the people of Amaranthine, it was about the whole kingdom. My position as king was still weak, and if I didn't show up to protect my people, I could still lose what I had been fighting for during this silly investigation and the six months before. My reputation as a hero of the Fifth Blight had kept me in power, the fact that I had been there in the thick of the battle, that I had personally risked my life for the sake of Ferelden.
Wynne opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again when I shot her a look. "Didn't you preach about duty and sacrifice and how the Grey Wardens serve the people over and over again?" I asked tiredly. "You know there's no choice here for me. I have to go and you have to get me going."
"The magic you demand me to use could kill you," Wynne answered sadly, but she did not object.
"No risk, no gain," I answered with a lopsided grin. "I'll just have to cheat death again."
"The cards are stacked against you this time," Wynne pointed out worriedly.
"They've been stacked against me since Suri and I woke up in Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds, the only two Grey Wardens left to end the blasted Blight. Fate keeps dealing me bad hands, but it seems I'm pretty good at bluffing."
"Fine. But if you go, so will I," Wynne informed me and there was no arguing about that. Smiling I accepted her offer. Her concern was heartwarming. Wynne was the granny I had never had. She had changed my point of view on mages more than Suri had.
Grand Enchanter Fiona, when summoned, wasn't thrilled by my request, but she did as told, muttering something about stupid stubborn silly men under her breath. Both mages crammed so much magic into my ruined body that I felt like a magically stuffed turkey.
Rori wasn't as easy to convince as the mages. She didn't give a damn about my kingly duty when she stormed into my bedroom just as Arlington was about to help me put on my magically tweaked armor. "Out!" she barked at the butler who indignantly raised an eyesbrow at so much unladylike behavior.
"Leave us alone, please," I asked, although I would have rather hidden behind the butler.
"As you wish, your Majesty." With utmost dignity, Arlington stalked out of the room.
"Hasn't anybody ever taught you how to delegate?" Rori asked furiously, her blazing eyes hardly concealing her fear of losing me—again. "You're more dead than alive. Nobody in their right mind can expect you to fight darkspawn! How can you be so... so... so... stupid?!"
I smiled at her, riling her up even more. She was incredibly cute with her fists clenched at her sides, the curls bouncing around her head as she paced the room angrily. "I love you," I said.
"That's not fair," Rori complained and burst into tears as she flung herself at me, her arms wrapping around my neck. Hot tears trickled down my collarbone as she pressed her face to the crook of my neck. "Please, please don't go," she begged, as I gently petted her back while holding her.
"I have to," I muttered into her hair, inhaling the fresh scent of verbena on her.
"Then I'll go with you," she declared defiantly, fidgeting out of my embrace.
Now it was my turn to object. "What!? No way! You can't fight darkspawn! You are with child... Our child..." I hesitated, searching for a confirmation in her expression. All I got was pure defiance and stubbornness. "You are, aren't you?"
Rori misunderstood me completely. "So you, too, believe me to be a stray whore to lay with any men I come across?" she snapped, hurt and disappointment making her voice shake.
"No, Rori, never. I just thought it could have been a bluff... Grey Wardens really have an infertility problem. So I thought you perhaps made it up to help me..."
"No, unfortunately it's all true," she said bitterly. I didn't understand until Wulff joined us, storming in unannounced with Eamon, Jane, Leliana, and a still rather shaky Grand Cleric in tow. She was recovering from a broken skull with a splitting headache as her constant companion. It didn't make getting along with her any easier. Before the door shut behind them, Mrs. Couldry squeezed in, melting with the shadows. Arl Wulff was concerned, too, that I could possibly die in battle or when the magic subsided. His conclusion, however, wasn't meant to keep me out of battle.
"The kingdom would be left without a monarch, should you fall, your Majesty," Wulff pointed out. "You should take preparations to ensure there won't be a power vacuum."
Uh-oh, I was quite sure I wouldn't like what was going to come.
"You have to marry before you leave tomorrow," Wulff went on, shoving Jane to the front.
Yep, so didn't like it. I was getting pretty good at predictions. I opened my mouth to protest. The last thing I wanted was to get married right now. At least not to Jane.
"You will need West Hill's support against the darkspawn, your Majesty," Wulff pointed out coldly.
"Err... what? Are you saying if I don't marry your daughter you won't send your soldiers to help save the people of Amaranthine from the darkspawn?" I asked incredulously.
"I also demand,"Wulff went on as if I hadn't said anything at all, "that Lady Rori hand over her child to the Chantry and abdicate from the throne completely—both herself and the child."
"No!" Rori cried out fiercely, spinning round to face Wulff. "No, I will not give up my baby! You can have the throne. I don't want it. But you cannot make me give my baby away!"
"Why not?" Wulff asked acidly. "You already gave up your first child, didn't you?"
"That... that was different..." Rori protested meekly, a shudder running through her.
"The first child was of no worth to you," Wulff snarled. "A heir to the throne, however..."
"I don't care about the throne," Rori shot back, her voice shaking.
"That's what you say," the Grand Cleric meddled with affairs that certainly weren't any of her business.
Rori slumped her shoulders, retreating slowly like a cornered animal. She opened her mouth to tell Wulff off, but no sound came out. She had had her reasons to abandon that baby, a child conceived through rape, and yet she was ridden with grief. It had been one of her darkest moments in times so dark she would always live in their shadow. I reached out to take her hand, but Wulff stepped in, coming face to face with me. "It's your choice, your Majesty. But what chance to you stand against the darkspawn without West Hill?"
"Father!" Jane protested, clearly uncomfortable with the situation she found herself in.
"Quiet, daughter," Wulff ordered. "It is not your place to question my actions."
Outraged but vacillant, Jane stayed silent, disapproval written all over her face. She opened and clenched her fists, wavering in between obedience and defiance. "This so isn't right," she muttered when Leliana wrapped her arm around her shoulder, beckoning her to follow her out of the room with Mrs. Couldry opening the door for them quite eagerly. "It's cruel. And it's not what I want. I never wanted any of this!" The last sight I caught of the two women was Leliana whispering to her emphatically before Mrs. Couldry closed the door, rubbing her hands together with utmost satisfaction.
Something was brewing, and I couldn't get rid of the feeling the cook was stirring the whole mess with a wooden ladle.
I had a bone or two to pick with Mrs. Couldry and I was furious enough to do it right here and now when Wulff demanded I made a decision.
Anger flared up inside of me. How dare he force me to make such a choice? Clenching my fists, I hardly could restrain myself from punching him straight in the face. "You..." I pressed through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab Wulff by his colar. Sharply Mrs. Couldry's ladle came down on my fingers, stopping me from going after the Arl. "OW! Bloody blast it!" I cursed, sucking at my throbbing fingers.
"Language!" Mrs. Couldry shrieked, waving her ladle at me menacingly. "Think before you act, lad. You do need West Hill. And the kingdom needs stability. You won't gain it by the rivalry of two possible heirs."
"What!?" I stammered incredulously, staring with disbelief at the old elf.
"Act like a king, boy," Mrs. Couldry demanded sternly. And then she winked at me.
Damn that old hag! Whatever game she was playing, she hadn't bothered explaining the rules to me.
"I... um..." Wavering between just exploding and throwing a major fit right there and playing along despite not having the slightest clue where I was heading. I so didn't know what to do.
"You've slept a long time," Mrs. Couldry said, gently patting my arm. Beneath the gentle tone there was a sharpness even I couldn't miss.
"Huh?"
"Things happened while you slept," Mrs. Couldry went on, her stare boring into me.
"What you are trying to say is..."
"... that you now have to act like a wise king," Mrs. Couldry finished the sentence for me before I could blurt out something stupid.
Okay, fine. I would act like a wise king. But how she was going to make Rori act wisely was totally beyond me. Of course, Mrs. Couldry was right. I couldn't defend Amaranthine without Wulff. I didn't have much choice. Actually none. Sacrificing a whole city crammed with people for my own happiness was absolutely beyond question. I could have never looked at myself in the mirror again had I put myself first. Still, I put up a fight before surrendering unwillingly.
"Fine, I will marry your daughter," I submitted after some to and fro with Wulff that got me nowhere. He had me cornered and he knew it. "Just let Rori keep her baby..."
"I think I made myself clear," Wulff bellowed unnervedly. "You will only have my support if the child is given to the Chantry."
"I... I cannot ask this of her," I gasped.
"Then you will have to fight the darkspawn without the support of West Hill," Wulff said coolly.
"Fuck you!" Rori hissed. "I will fight the blasted darkspawn myself but you won't make me abandon my baby!"
"Then the people of Amaranthine will die," Wulff remarked mercilessly. "And it is your egoism that kills them."
"Oh, don't you blame their deaths on me, you bastard!" Rori snapped. She was bristling with anger. Furiously she grabbed the nearest thing she could get hold of and hurled it at Wulff. It happened to be a chamber pot. It slammed against Wulff's head, the smelly contents raining down on him. Wulff was outraged; Rori was rather pleased with herself. He called her a bitch and a whore, she called him a shoddy piece of crap and a base-born jackal. Caught in the middle of a cussing blizzard, even Mrs. Couldry didn't know where to bring down her ladle first. Teagan and Eamon had to step in to stop the two of them from starting a brawl, and it took a whole lot of persuasion from Eamon's side to stop Wulff from having Rori arrested.
"Get out of my sight!" Wulff barked. He was so wrathful he frothed at the mouth.
That's when Mrs. Couldry stepped in and ushered Rori out of the room. "Come on, my dear, the two of us will have a nice cup of tea and a little talk."
Rori neither wanted tea nor talk; she wanted to scratch out Wulff's eyes. My sentiments exactly. Mrs. Couldry, however, firmly dragged her along like a misbehaving brat.
I never found out what that little talk was about, but after several cups of tea, Rori, her face ashen, eyes puffed and red from all the tears she had cried, gave in to Wulff's request to give up her baby to the Chantry. "For the sake of Ferelden," she croaked, her eyes boring into Wulff with undisguised hatred and contempt. "For the lives of the people of Amaranthine."
There also was no chance to talk to Rori afterwards. Wulff and Eamon wouldn't let me get near her when she needed me most—just like I needed her. I was in a state of shock when Arlington stuffed me into something that could pass as a wedding suit. My mind circled around Rori and the baby, around the marriage I didn't want. At some point I burst into hysterical laughter when remembering the conversation with Suri. I had fought my way back to life only to have it kick me in the nuts. Life was a tremendous bitch.
"Chin up, lad" Mrs. Couldry encouraged me, patting my arm comfortingly. "This is not yet the end."
"Nope, it very much feels like the beginning of endless misery," I muttered sullenly.
Mrs. Couldry looked me straigt in the eye. Instead of craning her neck, the tiny elf just grabbed me by my colar and pulled me down. "Do you trust me?" she asked.
"Um... no?"
Bang! Bang! Mrs. Couldry's wooden ladle went down on my head.
"Maker! Yes, yes, I do!" I hurried to correct my judgment, not daring to remind her she had once told me to trust absolutely no one. You have a plan, right? Right?"
"How about you exercise a little faith?" she asked, ignoring my question. "The Maker moves in mysterious ways."
As did Mrs. Couldry. I never knew what she was up to until her ladle came down on my head.
Half an hour later I found myself walking down the aisle of the castle's chapel, feeling very much like a dead man walking. There were few guests. Eamon, Teagan, a rather miffed looking Grand Enchanter Fiona, Wynne explaining to Shale over and over again why crushing Wulff's head wouldn't change a thing, Leliana and Mrs. Couldry, her arm wrapped around Rori who was bawling her eyes out. Wulff dragged a rather unwilling Jane down the aisle as quickly as humanly possible, as if he was afraid I would get cold feet and run for the hills. Not that far fetched.
I only had eyes for Rori while I held Jane's hand. She returned my gaze with so much longing that I could feel my heart crumble. The agony in her dark blue eyes, the despair that blemished her features—she became a mirror of my own misery. Standing there with Jane felt like betraying her, failing her. I was sacrificing my own and Rori's happiness for the lives of the people of Amaranthine. It was the right thing to do, but it didn't feel right. Not at all.
I missed the whole sermon and only snapped out of my stupor when Teagan nudged my side.
"Huh?" I asked, blinking stupidly at the annoyed Grand Cleric.
"Alistair," she repeated unnervedly, "will you take Jane to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"
I tore my gaze away from Rori and for the first time looked at Jane without much excitement. It wasn't her fault. She deserved better than a husband who didn't care. Guilt crushed me when I looked at her, loaded on top of the guilt I was burdened with for failing Rori. "I will," I sighed, desperately unhappy.
"Jane, will you take Alistair to be your husband?" the Grand Cleric went on, unmoved by the tragedy playing out in front of her. "Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"
Jane let go of my hands and cupped my face instead, looking me deep in the eyes. A sad little smile played across her lips, then she bent forward to kiss my brow ever so gently.
"Lady Jane?" the Grand Cleric urged impatiently.
Jane let go of me, straightened up, and her voice ringing out strong and clear, answered: "No, I will not!"
"Jane!" Wulff barked, jumping from his seat at the same time I went: "Huh?"
"Oh, shut up, father!" Jane snapped back as she stepped down into the aisle, taking off her bridal veil.
"But the kingdom needs a queen!" Eamon got up as well, both men blocking Jane's way out of the chapel.
"Very true," Jane answered. She turned on her heels, marching back down the aisle until she reached the bench where Rori sat all alone. Smiling at her, Jane placed her bridal veil on Rori's head before pulling the stunned girl to her feet and leading her down to the altar. "Here is your queen," she said, placing Rori's hand in mine.
"But..." Eamon began.
"She can't..." Wulff sputtered.
"Yes, she can!" Jane snapped. "They love each other! He's a good king, devoted to his kingdom. And she'll make a good queen. Maker's Breath, she was willing to give up her child, a child of love, for the sake of this kingdom. What more can you ask for? Nothing, I daresay. Everything else is about your own egoistic ambitions."
Silence.
Jane stood there with her arms akimbo, staring down Wulff and Eamon, her eyes gleaming with determination. Eamon's expression changed from angered to thoughtful. He slowly sat back down on his chair, leaving Wulff's side. The arl was so hopping mad he didn't even notice he had lost an ally.
"Jane," Wulff thundered as soon as he recovered from the shock of his daughter turning against him. "I am your father and I order you..." Wulff stormed towards the altar and ran straight into the solid wall of the golem's chest.
"Shame on you, father," Jane said sadly. "Don't you have any honor? For far too long I have watched you defile the name of our family. You wanted grandeur and influence, but all you do is drag our name through the dirt. Loghain, Anora, Franderel, haven't you learned your lesson from them? We have to stand together, not fight each other in times like these."
"She is right, Wulff," Eamon said solemnly. "We wanted to do what is best for the kingdom and lost sight of our cause, much like Loghain did when he stubbornly insisted Orlais was the true threat and ignored the darkspawn. We thought our king to be too weak to rule this nation without the guidance of his advisors, seeing ourselves as the real power behind the throne. We didn't see Maric's strength in him. Alistair, however, has proven us wrong. I daresay he could become an even greater king than his father. We have also looked down on Lady Cousland..." He paused and grimaced. "And though we might disagree with her on many things, though she might not be the queen we hoped for, she certainly has proven herself worthy."
Wulff looked as if he had been given something rotten to swallow. But with his daughter refusing to marry the king and without Eamon's support, he had to grin and bear it. Sure, it was a rather forced grin, but it was a grin just the same.
I couldn't believe this was happening. Neither could Rori. We stared at the assembled crowd in mere disbelief. "Pinch me," Rori muttered. "I must be dreaming." I pinched her, she pinched me and nothing happened save for Jane spinning around, glaring at the Grand Cleric. "Don't you have work to do?" she asked pointedly. The Grand Cleric didn't move, just stared slack-jawed at the young woman.
"Step aside then." Jane ushered the Grand Cleric out of her way. "I received the ordination to priesthood right before my father ordered me to leave the Chantry. I can very well perform the wedding ceremony myself. Does anybody object to keeping things short? No? Fine." Jane took her place at the altar and turned to me. I was still too stunned to even close my mouth. "Alistair, will you take Rori for your wife?" Jane asked briskly. I gaped at her in mere disbelief. "This is the moment when you say 'I will'," Jane prompted.
"For real?" I asked, my eyes wandering from my ex-bride to my now-bride, the borrowed veil sitting lopsidedly on her head, her cheeks smeared with tears, eyes wide with confusion.
"For real," Jane confirmed.
"Yes! I will!" I jubilated, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't yet believe my luck. It felt like a dream. I felt like I was floating several inches above the ground. I looked around the room for someone to explain to me what was happening and caught Mrs. Couldry arm in arm with Leliana, both grinning like two cats that swallowed some really fat pigeons. Bards!
"Rori, will you take Alistair for your husband?" Jane asked, smiling broadly at the younger woman that had taken her place at my side.
"I will!" Rori cheered, bouncing up and down giddily. Laughter bubbled from her lips, a sound so sweet and joyous and golden like a sunny day. And then she pounced me, sending us both toppling down the stairs. She came to lie on top of me, crushing her lips against mine. I melted into her kiss and the world around us stopped to exist. It was Rori and I, a dream come true that I hadn't even dared to dream anymore. When we broke the kiss, gasping for air, we stayed there on the floor in front of the altar, my arms tightly wrapped around her, and I smiled against her lips.
That moment I was completely happy. Happiness engulfed me, it soaked me, filled me from head to toe. For this short moment, life was perfect.
Reality caught up with me pretty soon, though. There was no cake, no dance, no party. Just getting ready for battle and leaving in a hurry. I looked much like the walking dead—my eyes had sunken in during the weeks in coma, my skin was stretched tight across my bones, and I was relying solely on magic to keep me upright. Still, the evening of my wedding day I boarded Bann Angus Mac Eanraig's ship to sail me, my Denerim guards and Wulff's soldiers to Amaranthine.
Later that night when the ship was sailing along the coast, I slipped out of bed when Rori was fast asleep. I found Mrs. Couldry alone in the tiny galley, sipping tea.
"This was all your doing, wasn't it?" I asked, slumping down on a stool next to her when she offered me a cup of tea.
"What do you mean, son?" Mrs. Couldry said, regarding me innocently. She looked as if butter couldn't melt in her mouth but I knew better by now.
"Rori and I. You made this marriage happen."
"I'm only an old woman, son."
"Old woman my a..." I bit my tongue in time when Mrs. Couldry raised her ladle. "You cannot fool me. You planned it all from the beginning. You chose Jane from all the bachelorettes because you knew she didn't really want to marry me. But she would have never risen against her father just because of her own desires. You had to give her a reason and when you learned about Rori's pregnancy, you had the tool you needed. Thus you whispered to Wulff that now Rori was pregnant I would never marry Jane, and that even if I did, the baby with its claim to the throne would be a danger. You manipulated Wulff into forcing me and Rori to give up what we loved most, and that's how you turned Jane against him and at the same time made Eamon accept Rori as my queen. Am I right?"
Mrs. Couldry just smiled silently to herself.
"Blast yes, I am right!" I muttered.
"Language!" Mrs. Couldry shrieked and Bang! Bang! her wooden ladle went down on my head.
I just grinned as I rose from my chair and bent down to kiss her old wrinkled cheek. She blushed bright crimson and got all flustered. "Thank you," I smiled. And then I returned to my beloved wife.
Wife.
Wiiiiiiiiiife.
Now, didn't that sound wonderful?