Chapter 6: Homecoming

The road to Denerim had been a blur after my encounter with Lyna. Long stretches of flatland and forests passed in a haze, while the occasional conversation between Cailan, Tavi, and Erik drifted in and out of my awareness. I didn't have the energy for small talk. I was too focused on the looming city in the distance—Denerim, where everything would change.

Denerim was the heart of Ferelden. It wasn't just a city—it was the epicenter of power, politics, and influence in Ferelden. A place where Cailan's authority as king would be tested, where every step he took would be scrutinized, and where the stakes would be higher than ever. And for me, it meant a reality where my role in his life, in his world, would become far more complicated. I wasn't ready for that.

In truth, I hadn't been ready to face any of this from the beginning. I'd been pretending, fooling myself into thinking that it would all settle into something familiar, something I could control. But the closer we got to Denerim, the more the ground beneath me shifted. I could feel it in my chest, a subtle but steady tremor of uncertainty.

I had started having strange dreams—darker, more vivid than before. Dreams of my family and friends, but no matter how hard I screamed, they couldn't hear me. The frustration of being invisible to the people I should have been able to reach clawed at me every time I woke up.

But those dreams weren't the worst.

There was her.

The woman with dark brown hair, doe eyes, and a smile that wrapped around me like a blanket. She held me in her arms, and though I couldn't move, though I couldn't speak, there was no fear. Only warmth. A suffocating love that made no sense. It wasn't a love I understood, and certainly not a love I could afford to indulge—not in the midst of everything else I was already struggling to grasp. But it was there, thick in my chest, pulling at me when I least expected it.

And so I buried it. Like everything else that made no sense in this strange, new world, I locked it away.

"Hey," Gareth's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts. "Denerim's coming up. Ready?"

I looked up at him, thankful for the distraction. His smile was easy and unguarded, and for a moment, it made the world feel just a little more normal. Like the journey we'd shared wasn't about to come crashing down around us. That Denerim was just another stop along the road, and not the beginning of something I wasn't sure I could handle.

"No," I answered honestly, trying to shake off the weight in my chest. "But I'll try to be."

Gareth chuckled, giving me a look of quiet understanding. "When we get settled, I'll take you around. Show you Denerim from a different perspective. We'll get you used to things."

"I'd appreciate that," I said, feeling a small amount of relief at the thought of having him as a guide. Gareth was a steady presence in the chaos that was this world, and having him around made everything feel just a little less impossible.

"You'll see," he added with a grin. "The city's got its problems, but it's not all bad. There's a few taverns around with good mead. You up for it?"

I let out a quiet laugh at that. "I think I'd be happy with that."

But even as we spoke, the weight of what lay ahead settled back into my bones. This was Denerim. This was the heart of everything, and it wasn't just Cailan's future at stake—it was mine too. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was about to be thrust into the middle of something I didn't fully understand, a game of politics and power I had no experience in, all while trying to find a way home from this nightmare.

As we neared the city gates, my pulse quickened. The noise, the movement, the smell of the bustling city—it felt like a thousand needles pricking my skin, a reminder that everything was about to change. The normalcy I'd briefly found, the quiet moments shared with Cailan, Gareth, Tavi, and Erik—they were all slipping away. And what came next, I wasn't sure I was ready for.

The sound of hooves clopping against the cobblestone grew louder, and I realized Cailan had ridden up alongside me. His golden hair was damp from the rain, clinging to his forehead, and for the first time in days, his expression was unreadable, closed off. The weight of the king he was—and would always be—seemed to hang heavier on him than ever before.

"I know you've been quiet these last few days," he said, his voice steady but with an edge of concern. "But I want you to be ready for what's coming."

I looked over at him, offering a short nod, though my stomach twisted with unease. Ready? I wasn't even sure what I was walking into. How could I be ready?

"You're not going to like it," he continued, his tone lighter than his words. "The noise, the crowds, the whispers. People are going to be paying attention. More than ever."

"I'm used to being invisible," I said, trying to joke, but it came out flat, lacking any real humor. "This is going to be... an adjustment."

Cailan's lips twitched, but his expression remained serious. He exhaled slowly, like the weight of everything he carried had settled deeper into his bones. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said, voice softer now. "But I need you to understand. Once we enter the city, things will change. People will be watching us. Not just me, but you too."

I swallowed hard. The reality of it sank in. The politics, the attention, the constant scrutiny—it wasn't just about Cailan anymore. It was about both of us. We were both part of a world that demanded more than we could give, a world that was far too big to navigate without losing pieces of yourself along the way.

"You've spent the last week with us, in a way that felt... normal," he said, almost regretfully. "But that ends the moment we enter Denerim. I'll have to meet with Eamon, Loghain, and Anora. The nobles, the politics—it's all going to hit hard once we're in the city. I need you to stick with Gareth, Tavi, and Erik. I'll send for you in a few hours once everything settles. We'll need to get you set up—a room, a handmaiden, new wardrobe..."

I blinked, surprised. "Wait, what?" I asked, not quite understanding what he meant. "You want me to… stay at the castle?"

His eyes softened with understanding. "You'll need to be in the castle. It's the safest place for you."

I was blindsided. I hadn't expected that. A room at the castle? I thought I would be sent to an inn somewhere. The idea of being inside the castle, surrounded by the constant hum of court life, filled me with dread. The thought of being even more involved in that world—being seen as a part of it—was overwhelming.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked, not sure how to even begin processing what he was offering.

"I'm sure," Cailan said simply, his expression firm, though there was an undercurrent of concern in his eyes. "It's the safest option. And it's the best place to get you settled. Things are going to get hectic in the next few days, but I'll make sure you're looked after."

I couldn't help the knot that formed in my stomach at the thought. A room in the castle. The weight of that felt heavier than any crown.

"Okay," I said quietly, trying to push aside my unease. "I'll stay with the guys. I'll wait for you."

He gave me a short nod before urging his horse forward. "We'll get through this, Maryse. One step at a time."

I followed him, but my heart wasn't in it. As we crossed the threshold into Denerim, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something I couldn't control. Something I wasn't prepared for.

But there was no turning back now.

The gates of Denerim loomed ahead, massive stone walls parting to reveal the hustle of the city beyond. It was everything I'd expected and more—the noise, the colors, the grandeur. Soldiers lined the streets, trumpets blared, and the rhythm of the crowd's cheer echoed off the buildings like a living thing, pulsing with energy.

At the center of it all was Cailan. He rode ahead of us, a golden figure perched atop his white horse. His armor gleamed in the dim light, every plate polished to perfection, reflecting the sun like a beacon. He waved, his smile as radiant as the crown on his head, his posture perfect—every inch the king.

I watched him as he moved through the crowd, waving to people who cheered his name. His presence commanded the street. It was like the air around him vibrated with power.

But there was something else too—something more personal—that caught me by surprise. His smile, as he interacted with the people, was... different. It wasn't the smile I had seen during our travels, or the easy, protective gestures he'd made in quiet moments. This was the smile of a king—shiny, practiced, perfected. It was a mask.

And somehow, seeing that polished, controlled version of him was like a punch to the gut. There was a sharp, unfamiliar ache that twisted through me as I realized this mask would be the new normal. That this was what he had warned me about. That everyone would be looking at him and by extension me and we had to show the world what they wanted to see.

I found myself staring at him as he approached a group of nobles near the front of the palace. Two men and a woman. The woman was the first thing I noticed. She was everything I wasn't—beautiful, poised, the epitome of royal grace. She wore a silver gown that shimmered as she moved, her long blonde hair twisted into a perfectly coiled bun at the back of her head. A crown of silver with little white jewels rested lightly atop her head, as if she were born to wear it.

It wasn't hard to guess who she was.

Anora.

She stood with one hand delicately placed on the arm of one of the men. Loghain, if I had to guess, considering his dark hair and grumpy features. Her posture was regal, her smile a mirror image of Cailan's—perfect, controlled, and somehow effortlessly dazzling. When they saw each other, when Cailan finally reached them, his smile widened even more, if that was possible. There was a spark of genuine warmth in his expression that I couldn't ignore, and for a moment, my heart stuttered in my chest.

As Cailan moved closer to Anora, their greeting seemed to slow down, as if time itself had decided to draw out this moment of perfect harmony. Anora's smile bloomed in the same golden warmth as the sun breaking through a storm, and Cailan, in his regal splendor, responded in kind. It was a smile full of recognition, of shared history, of something deeper that I couldn't even begin to understand.

When she reached for his hands, her movements were elegant, practiced—a queen meeting her king. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness between them, only the ease of people who had shared countless moments like this. As they clasped hands, it felt as though they were two halves of the same whole, as if they had been forged together from the same light, the same strength. And in that instant, my heart sank further than I thought possible.

I wanted to look away. I needed to. But my eyes were drawn to them—Cailan and Anora—like the pull of a star. And in that moment, everything crystallized in my mind. The realization hit me like a flood. They were perfect together. A radiant king and his beautiful queen.

A vision of strength and grace, born to rule together, side by side.

I could see how they fit—how they completed each other. The kingdom needed them both. Cailan, with his charisma, his fire, his ambition; and Anora, with her poised elegance, her grace, and her quiet strength. The way they moved together, as if this was nothing more than the natural order of things. They had a history together, a bond that was deep, beyond politics. And that truth, that bond between them, was undeniable.

And then I looked at myself.

I wasn't part of this world. I was a stranger here. I was like a shadow at the edges of their bright, beautiful lives. I didn't belong.

I took a breath, trying to steady myself, but it only made the ache inside grow sharper, deeper. I tried to look away—tried to focus on anything else—but I was trapped in the truth of it all. The way Cailan looked at her, the way she looked at him—it was clear. They were not just playing a role as king and queen. They were that role. Together, they were everything this kingdom needed.

And I wasn't even a footnote in the story.

The sharp sting of that realization made my chest tighten with something darker than just jealousy. It was a suffocating feeling, as though the walls of the city were closing in on me. I felt small, insignificant, lost in a sea of people who all belonged to this world, except for me. My feet felt heavy, and my head ached with the weight of everything I didn't know.

And then came the sound of Erik's voice, cutting through the heavy fog of my thoughts.

"You're doing it again," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

I blinked, startled. I hadn't even realized he was standing beside me. His gaze followed mine, his expression unreadable.

He cleared his throat again, his tone shifting to something more practical. "Everyone's too busy looking at them right now to see you, but if they did…" He let the sentence hang in the air, and I could feel the weight of his words.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice sounding more fragile than I wanted it to.

Erik's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking back toward Cailan and Anora, who were now laughing together, completely at ease in their roles as monarchs, as if the world would bend to them. He wasn't looking at them, though. He was looking at me, studying my face. "You've got to do better than this."

I felt my throat tighten. "Do better?"

Erik's expression was hard, but there was an edge of concern there too—something I hadn't expected from him. "Your thoughts are written all over your face. In a place like the palace, where power is everything, that can do a lot of damage, not just to you either."

I shifted uneasily, suddenly aware of how tightly I was gripping the reins of my horse. I had been so focused on the raw, aching feelings inside me, the sharp sting of watching Cailan with Anora, that I hadn't even considered the consequences of my own reaction.

Erik's eyes softened for a moment, but his voice remained firm. "You can't afford to wear that on your face here. Not with the nobles. Not with Cailan, either. In this city, everything gets read. And trust me, if they see that you're struggling, if they see that you're unsure—well, you'll be seen as a weakness. And people in Denerim, they prey on weaknesses."

I nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling over me. My stomach turned at the thought of how much I was exposing with every stray glance, every flicker of emotion. This wasn't my world. This wasn't a place where I could let myself falter. If I showed even the slightest crack in my armor, if anyone saw just how lost I felt, they would pounce. I could almost hear the vultures circling above.

"Do you understand?" Erik asked, his voice low but insistent.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "I understand."

He didn't say anything else but gave me a small nod, offering his arm like a silent signal for me to follow. It wasn't just an offer of physical support. It was the understanding that I had to hide the inner chaos, to mask what I was feeling, to blend in. I took his arm, grateful for the strength he offered, even though I knew it wouldn't change the fact that inside, I was still crumbling.

Erik led me away from the crowd, toward the barracks where Gareth and Tavi were already heading. I focused on my breathing, trying to calm the storm that raged inside. But the vision of Cailan and Anora together stayed with me, haunting me with every step I took.

They fit together perfectly. I couldn't deny it. And not for the first time since arriving in Ferelden, I knew that I was never meant to be part of that perfect picture.