Dragon 9:27, Winter
The halls of Denerim's Chantry were dead silent now, the yellow sunlight bleeding in through the windows fitted all along the walls, reflecting brightly off the statue of Andraste towering over Cailan's grand and throne-like seat. It was as if the Maker himself were watching over them, and the young regent, very soon to be king, looked as if he were about to be crushed underneath His gaze.
Grand Cleric Elemena stood before him, the tips of her index and middle fingers shining with flower nectar, extracted faithfully by the local clergy from countless bundles of Andraste's Grace. She touched Cailan on the forehead, anointing him, and the man's elevation to the throne was complete.
Cailan continued down the hall with his wife, filled to the brim with lords and ladies, his gait somewhat stiff from struggling to balance the crown atop his head.
"Your Majesties," Bryce greeted, bowing deeply, and when he raised his head was met with the sight of the king suppressing a grimace. "Your father would be proud."
"Thank you." The king's eyes faltered briefly before regaining their strength. "It means more to me than you shall ever know to hear you say that."
Bryce smiled in return, ready to change the subject and keep his monarch from a state of vulnerability. "Are you ready for the tour?"
"Parading around Orlais on my own?" Cailan shifted nervously, fiddling with the hilt of his ceremonial blade. He was good at making friends, allies even, but even the very few bits of information he had gathered about their Game was unsettling enough, to say the least. "I don't think I could ever be prepared for that." He looked to Anora. "I only wish you could join me."
The queen let out a sigh, although everyone knew she was far from tired; in fact, as opposed to Cailan's trembling under his new title, Anora seemed only to be invigorated. "Someone must rule the land, dear."
The teyrn gauged Anora, before turning to the king. "I think you will agree when I say you leave Ferelden in the best of hands, and besides, both Loghain and I will be with you at our neighbour's."
"We all will." Adriani added in support.
Cailan was about to thank them when the royal steward raised his voice over the sound of the crowds clamouring just outside the palace. "Your Majesty. When you are ready."
The king pulled at his collar, done a little too tightly. "I don't know if I am ready, but they certainly seem to be," he whispered, so that only his wife could hear. He could already see his people through the window, a far-reaching field of faces, all out to see but one person, or one thing, today. After all, at least to the masses, he was more than just a man now, having come into direct contact with the Maker through Andraste's Grace. The monarchy itself was secular, of course, but its people, the life blood of the nation, were overwhelmingly Andrastian. He stretched out for Anora's hand, clasping it firmly.
"We must be strong, Cailan," the queen replied in a tone equally hushed, "for Ferelden."
One last deep breath and the king nodded to the steward, who in turn instructed the footmen to open the balcony doors, and as he walked through that grand frame, he heard a voice, Aedan's, raised over the shouting of the masses, "Long live King Cailan."
The trip to Val Royeaux was uneventful, which was always best when it came to travel. Their stop at the border was brief, and the carriage drivers, skilled and experienced, powered through the snowy region sandwiched by the coast and the Frostbacks with ease. They passed through Halamshiral, waving to the commoners crowded around the streets, who showed not adoration but curiosity toward the foreign leaders. From there, they were escorted by a platoon of Orlais' Imperial Guards to the coast of the Waking Sea, where they left their carriages behind for a grand ship, provided by the Empress herself, to sail across to the capital. Loghain, being as he was, raised concern for being surrounded by foreign forces while having such a lean escort of their own Royal Guard, but the king persuaded him that it was a gesture of trust. The old war hero grumbled for the rest of the trip, nonetheless.
Aedan marvelled at the scale of the empire's capital as it came into view over the watery horizon, just as he did when visiting the city several years prior to organise his betrothal.
"Your parents will no doubt be pleased to see you return, Cateline," Oriana said as she nudged her husband, napping in the seat beside her, awake.
Cateline nodded with a smile, staring longingly toward her home town, and she slipped on her porcelain mask. Deep purple in colour and with elaborate, rigid engravings across the forehead, the mask covered her face entirely but her mouth.
The city grew bigger and bigger until eventually they arrived, docking at the harbour, a large slot of it reserved strictly for Imperial use. From there it was only a quick carriage ride through the busy, extravagant, white and gold streets, nothing like those of Ferelden, soon arriving at the Imperial Palace. Aedan squinted on approach as the sun's rays reflected off the castle's gold filled exterior, illuminating the area in its radiance.
The carriage arrived in front of the palace entrance, where they were met with the sight of a legion of servants and nobles, and in the centre among them was a woman, standing tall and proud. Aedan knew little of how the empress looked, her having not been present during his first visit, but he could tell, easily, that it was Her Imperial Majesty who stood before them; they didn't call her the Lioness for nothing.
Close beside the empress, but not too close, was a man and a woman who Aedan did recognise. The pair looked as if they were about to rush toward his carriage at any moment as they pulled up by the entrance. He waited, with his betrothed, until Cailan had stepped off the king's own royal carriage, before disembarking himself.
The group followed behind Cailan as the king strode confidently toward the empress. The two leaders met, exchanged a formal greeting, the Fereldan with a little less refinement than his counterpart, and stood side by side as the king beckoned the rest of his party to approach.
Bryce and Eleanor approached first and were introduced, then Loghain, who, to the surprise of many, managed a civil and graceful exchange, followed by Fergus and Oriana, until, finally, it was Aedan and Cateline's turn.
"The Lord Aedan Cousland and Lady Cateline de Lafierre," Cailan introduced to the empress.
Aedan bowed deeply, arms crossed against his chest. "Your Imperial Majesty." Cateline curtsied with equal depth, repeating the greeting herself.
The empress nodded, then straightened, arms bent at the elbows and right hand resting gently on the left. She looked to the more familiar, Orlesian of the two. "Dear Cateline. I trust your stay in Ferelden has been well?"
Aedan tried, and failed, to ignore the hidden danger in the Lioness' tone, or perhaps he was just overanalysing; he certainly hoped he was.
"Nothing but," Cateline replied. "Castle Highever is my second home now, although it is wonderful to be able to return to my first."
"Of course," Celene said simply, smiling and revealing nothing, before turning to Aedan. "I hear that you are a reader, and am happy to tell you that our palace library boasts quite the collection. Perhaps you will even fancy a visit to our university, if you are so inclined."
Putting aside how unnerving the revelation that the empress knew such a detail of his person was, Aedan replied, "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will be sure to peruse with the utmost care and vigour."
Celene nodded, seemingly satisfied, although at what, Aedan could not guess, and smiled. "Enjoy your stay," she said, signalling that their exchange was over.
Aedan let out a breath that he had been holding unknowingly, and together with Cateline quickly made his way toward the pair from earlier, Adriani approaching the empress herself behind him.
"Father, mother," Cateline greeted, dearly, and they cheek kissed each other, which, with their masks, were merely the pressing of porcelain against porcelain. As a Fereldan, Aedan still found the custom to be peculiar of course, although he committed to partaking in it with his betrothed's mother. With the father, he shared a mutual nod.
Duchess Nanette continued to chat rapidly with her daughter, about what he could not gather.
"So, I hear there is a ball to be held tonight," Aedan said to Cateline's father.
Duke Alphonse adjusted his mask, eyes thinning. "Yes, indeed. What could be more fitting than a royal ball in honour of a royal guest?" He turned to his daughter, only then a smile spreading across his lips. "And I'm glad to say that you are in our charge for the duration of your stay, my dear."
"I'll be staying with you?" Cateline asked, elated, "Not at the palace?"
"You, Aedan, Highever and his family, and of course, Gwaren will all be staying with us," Alphonse replied. "We asked for the empress' permission, and Her Majesty accepted, it being so long since we have been able to spend any time with you."
"Oh, how wonderful!" the young lady exclaimed, smile shining brightly.
Aedan forced himself to express his gratitude also, although it was difficult to ignore the danger of leaving the king alone with Celene and the sneaking suspicion that the empress was actually the one to suggest this sudden change of accommodation in the first place.
Aedan's relatively simple Fereldan attire attained him some looks from the Orlesian nobles as he walked through the palace halls. He didn't mind, of course; in all fairness, he thought them to be a bunch of ponces.
Beside him was an ever elegant Cateline, gliding along, arm wrapped around his.
They continued until ahead of them appeared a doorway, wide open and allowing an unobstructed view of the festivities on the other side, only the two guards and a doorkeeper with a thick tome in hand separating them from opulence and indulgence.
Aedan declared his name, and Cateline's, to the doorkeeper, who, upon checking with what he assumed to be a list of approved guests, in turn announced with a voice far more befitting of the grandness of the ballroom than expected from the frail looking man. "The Lord Aedan Cousland of Highever and Lady Cateline de Lafierre."
It was unusual to include his father's teyrnir as a part of his name, but, of course, it being less likely for nobles in Orlais to recognise the Cousland name than in Ferelden, it was only natural to do so.
The pair stepped inside, and within, noblemen and women alike chatted and danced along to the heavenly music which was most distinctly Orlesian. Grand and beautiful, managing to sound both cutting edge and ancient simultaneously, the notes from the violin, originally an instrument of the Imperium and quickly adopted by the cultured side of southern Thedas, forming the heart of the sound. The room itself was filled with gold and marble, sheets of royal blue hanging from above along with the oversized chandelier looming over its domain.
Cateline beckoned him toward a servant carrying a tray of white wine. He took two, handing the first to his betrothed of course, and took a sip, whereupon his mouth was exposed to a surprising but rather pleasant fizz. He swallowed quickly, examining the tall, thin glass, countless tiny bubbles floating to the surface. "What is this?"
His betrothed started to reply, only to be interrupted by a woman, redhaired and with a silver mask, "It's sparkling. Poor soul, to be deprived of such a simple pleasure should be considered a sin."
"Wine is divine, after all," Cateline said, "or, rather, it should be."
"And shoes, also," the woman added with solemnity, index finger raised, before she smiled warmly. "Oh, I am so glad to see you again, my lady."
"Not as much as I am to see you, Leliana." The two shared a hug, earning them some quick glances from the other nobles, the gesture being uncharacteristic of Orlesians in high society. Cateline introduced Aedan and her old friend to each other.
"And how has your stay been so far, my lord?" Leliana asked.
"Splendid," Aedan replied simply. Unsure of what more to say, he took to his drink; this woman claimed to be his betrothed's friend, but to him she was yet an unknown, and one could never be too careful with unknowns.
That was what he told himself, anyhow. Reality was much simpler; he was just bad at small talk. She looked decent enough, and Cateline seemed to trust her, which only meant that he could probably afford to also.
Fergus was always better at these things, but his brother was nowhere to be seen.
The redhead shared a glance, uncomfortably knowing, with Cateline. "I see. Well, I am ever so glad hear that the reputation of Orlesian hospitality remains untarnished."
Well aware of Aedan's weakness in ballrooms, Cateline took charge. "Are you working tonight, or is this visit at your own pleasure?"
A grin spread across Leliana's lips quickly, not sinister, but wholly mischievous. "Why not both, my lady? And thus, I must be off. We shall catch up later." She turned to Aedan, curtsying. "Good evening, my lord."
The young Cousland returned a nod, Leliana detaching herself from the pair and blending back into the sea of masks. "Work?"
"She's a bard, you see."
An Orlesian bard; spy, saboteur and even assassin, all in one elegant little package. So, the woman was dangerous.
Aedan frowned. "An ally, I hope."
"We've known each other since we were both very young, and she's saved my skin more times than I can count. I trust her with my life, so, yes, naturally she is very much an ally."
"Quite the testimonial," Aedan said. "I'd never realised you lived such an exciting life that you needed saving so often."
Cateline giggled, her expression warm, then a little pensive. "My family is," she hesitated a moment, "well, we've had our moments. You can't get much higher than a dukedom, and in Orlais the better off you are, the more numerous your enemies. At times I wonder, in the end, is it even worth all the trouble?" Aedan opened his mouth to retort, but she continued, "I know, I know. We have a duty to our people. I only wish we lived in a world where leaders not necessarily be generals. And yet, alas, we do not."