Her pink, luscious lips opened and closed, attempting to form words, but no sound came out. Her cheeks reddened as she stared at him. The ability for Caoilainn to form a complete sentence, let alone a thought, had been completely compromised by her state of shock. Her eyes were wide, like a deer caught in a snare.
The moment dragged on awkwardly and Alistair let it, at least until he was satisfied with his level of amusement. "Well we'll just have to sort that all out later, won't we?" He dismounted his horse and handed it to an Inquisition scout. The scout bowed and walked the horse to the stables. "You should introduce me to this Inquisitor Alanna… Lavellan, is it? That's elven, yeah?"
Caoilainn nodded. "Uh huh," she stammered dumbly before attempting a smile that did not remotely hide the shame written across her face. "This way… darling." Damn it! Caoilainn cursed herself internally. She never called him darling; it was so rigid and proper.
Muscles stiff, she mechanically turned to walk toward Skyhold's great hall. But before she could take her first step, she heard a familiar male voice call from the gate.
"Do you have any orders for me to give the Wardens, Commander?"
Caoilainn froze. Well, shit, she thought, before turning to face the source. Nathaniel stood at the gate with a mixed expression of concern and amusement. She deducted that his question was a last minute attempt at aiding her in her current predicament.
Caoilainn nodded blankly again, this time to Nathaniel, before walking over to the gate. Alistair's eyes followed but he did not interrupt. Patiently, expectantly, he waited with raised eyebrows.
Her voice professional and authoritative, Caoilainn gave orders to Nathaniel. "Yes, Lieutenant. Give the directions for training: I want the mages strengthened and I want extra attention on the new recruits." Then she lowered her voice and hissed, " …and leave me alone." Her hand formed a fist, then it rose to her chest to salute.
Nathaniel's lips twisted into a tight smile. "Yes ma'am," he forced out as he mirrored her motion. Then he coughed and hissed back lowly. "You two should decide who outranks who on your way in. Best to avoid awkward introductions."
Eyes large and face red with rage, Caoilainn took a deep breath to stay her anger. Nathaniel snorted, turned, and walked back to the Grey Warden camp to give her orders. Stunned by the blatant insolence of her Warden, especially in these unique circumstances, she took another deep breath.
Chin up. Tits out. That's what Morrigan had taught her. Caoilainn shook her head to clear the jumble of incomplete thoughts that had collected and returned to Alistair to escort him to the War Room to meet Inquisitor Alanna.
Armor clinking with each step, King Alistair strode through Skyhold's great hall. It took effort to retain his grin as he watched the inhabitants scurry out of the way of their processional. Some people seemed to recognize him and bowed in awe as he passed, others just stared in confusion. Finding entertainment from these situations was all Alistair could do to make them bearable because in actuality, he was tired. Tired from traveling, tired from ruling- especially from doing so alone- but most of all, from all the attention. Celebrity was incredibly draining. The least he could do to save from loathing it was to find humor.
Caoilainn walked just ahead of him. She was distant, literally and figuratively, as she avoided his gaze. Alistair debated as they walked whether to throw her to the wolves or not. Ratting out her abuse of power to gain influence within Skyhold would certainly be a harsh slap of reality for Caoilainn, and it would do nothing to strengthen their relationship, nor would it represent the unity of the Ferelden crown in front of the other political figures.
The duo, followed by a collection of Ferelden guards and advisors, entered the War Room of Skyhold. Buzzing with activity, the Inquisitor was surrounded by her War Council, Inquisition members, and some ambassadors of allies aiding the movement. The room fell silent, and the small crowd parted, as Caoilainn and Alistair stepped toward the War Table.
The Inquisitor greeted them with a nod. "King Alistair?" Alanna asked with a hint of confusion. The petite elven woman looked strong and willful; magical energy vibrated off of her but she looked tired, he recognized, relating to the exhaustion within himself. Yet, Alanna appeared determined and as though she had an inner force to be reckoned with. "We were led to believe you would not be able to join us." Alanna's eyes darted to Caoilainn who stared back guiltily.
"Yes, well, that…" Alistair smiled charmingly and intervened the accusing eye contact. "I did not think I would have the opportunity to join this cause, but when my lovely Queen requested our troops, I just knew I had to uphold my duty to the Wardens and Ferelden." His subtle use of sarcasm with the words 'lovely queen' was barely noticeable. "I cancelled all of my meetings at once."
Alistair left out the fact that he was already on his way to Kirkwall for the summit meeting. That was until a concerned advisor, whom he had ordered give him notice immediately upon any word of his wife, sent a messenger to his convoy. Alistair turned the entire fleet around right away.
His eyes moved to Caoilainn as he spoke. He saw two things:
First, Caoilainn had moved from his side to stand along the ambassadors, finding a spot at the head of some other Grey Warden representatives. Predictable. He noticed that the lieutenant from the yard had stealthily found his way into the War Room and was standing behind her, looking smug and self-satisfied.
The second, in the back of the room, was someone he was not prepared to see. In fact, someone he had been told from the source he would never see again.
Morrigan.
She looked as annoyed as ever, an unamused eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for him to stop talking. Alistair's stomach twisted and he had to catch his breath before looking back to the Inquisitor. "So…," he added, regaining his center. "When shall we go kill the bad guys?"
Eyes narrowed while attempting to stifle a smile, Alanna wondered: Is this man joking in my War Room? Alanna had quickly deducted who he must be. The dashing, slightly cocky man, stood tall, emblazoned with royal regalia. He was quite kingly and had a horribly timed sense of humor. That in itself was amusing to Alanna. Insightful to a fault, and adept at reading the energy of others, Alanna could feel the tension between the King and Queen the moment they walked in the room. The flustered look on the Warden Commander's face, with a trace of anger and embarrassment contrasted Alistair's ruthless gaiety and wit. Alanna wondered what was going on between Caoilainn- who had written her, offering the largest donation of armed soldiers of any ally thus far- and the King, whom she had ensured would not be joining. It was ultimately irrelevant to the needs of the Inquisition, Alanna thought, shrugging off the couple's discourse. Though, she noted, the lack of communication could be problematic in the future. A humble smile found its way to her lips.
"Pleased to meet you, King Alistair. I am Alanna Lavellan." Her eyes shifted back to the War Table. "We were just looking at the map of Orlais to coordinate a mission in the Arbor Wilds." She glanced at Alistair to check his reaction.
Alistair had written to the Inquisition when they were little more than a rag tag band of survivors from Haven, offering condolences to their purpose and asking for a favor regarding communications with Orlais. The blatant neutrality of the Inquisition could easily conflict with the history between the two countries.
Now, the King's offer to help would require him to step foot in the mask wearing rival's land. It would be a test of allegiance and commitment.
Lovely, Alistair thought to himself sarcastically… Orlais.
Apolitical and allied with no crown, the Inquisition had freedom to move through the borders of both Ferelden and Orlais without limitations. A large band of Ferelden soldiers, on the other hand, may receive some push back. The Grey Wardens had more leeway as they had no political affiliation, though the different chapters of Wardens were mostly autonomous. They all served the First Warden in Weisshaupt; their only purpose to destroy darkspawn and other demony-type things. Alistair missed his days as a Warden and it hurt when he recalled how this whole mess started. If he could have guessed when he met Caoilainn, he would have predicted himself as the future Warden Commander, not her. A tinge of jealousy burned within him.
"Alright then," he said in reluctant agreement. "Though I doubt the Orlesians will be thrilled by a fleet of Fereldens marching right through their empire, if we are under the Inquisition banner, I suppose we will manage." His statement was made with a shrug and air of defeat but he bounced back quickly with a smile. "I can assure that myself and my men will be on our best behavior while in service to yourself and the Inquisition," Alistair winked.
Caoilainn stared hard at him while he communicated with Alanna, praying to the Maker and Her Beloved Andraste that he did not say something stupid in the process. Having held her breath through his response, she exhaled when he finished talking, relieved by Alistair's tamed playfulness and nearly adequate tact. Such a flirt, she thought with annoyance.
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