Dragon Age: King in Exile

Part Twenty-Six

…

King Cailan has written Alistair into the succession and is ready to recognize him publicly. Loghain will do almost anything to keep that from happening. The darkspawn give him the perfect opportunity. Alistair/Cousland, featuring F!Tabris.

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Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize from Dragon Age belongs to me.

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The stop at Redcliffe was brief, just three nights before moving on to Orzammar. Eamon was inordinately pleased by their retrieval of the Writ, promising Alistair that he was already commissioning a new set of plate mail and shield for him.

Alistair tried not to grimace as he gave his obligatory thanks. He understood his responsibility, but he still didn't love these reminders about what his life was going to be.

While Kallian was busy preparing their supplies for the trek to Orzammar, Eamon took Alistair and Elissa aside as much as possible to give lectures on politics and what to expect at the Landsmeet. Alistair couldn't help feeling annoyed at the sort of ownership Eamon seemed to feel over them.

"He will expect us to return the favor," Elissa whispered to him at one point, and by her expression he could see it sickened her almost as much as it did him.

Alistair had never wanted to play politics. He'd never been ambitious and had a hard time thinking like those who were. All he'd desired was to be genuinely valued and wanted, like he'd found with Cailan and with the Couslands. He barely trusted anyone now except Elissa. How could he know now who liked him for himself rather than for his power?

When it was time to leave for Orzammar, Alistair was glad. At least his traveling companions were honest, as much as he didn't always like or agree with all of them.

Before they left, Eamon pulled him aside once more. "I hope you have been taking my advice to heart." When Alistair gave him a questioning look, he continued. "It is of the utmost importance that you produce an heir as soon as possible. Calenhad's line has never been so threatened as it is now. We cannot give Orlais another opportunity."

Alistair blushed deeply, but managed to dredge up something he'd heard said before about such matters. "The Maker acts in his own time. These things don't always happen immediately."

Eamon caught his eye again. "Alistair… it is best for you if it does."

Uncomfortable, Alistair left the room and went back to their preparations. Being a father was just one more responsibility he wasn't sure he was ready for. And Eamon's pressure wasn't helping.

…

The hike from Redcliffe to Orzammar was, if nothing else, scenic, Leliana thought. There were some beautiful views as they traced the western shore of Lake Calenhad. Third watch was her favorite, with the sun rising over the lake and the world coming to life with birdsong.

Beyond that, it was rather dull. There were some of the usual road nuisances of course—traveling salesmen, wolves, occasional bandits or darkspawn. But no one seemed inclined to talk much. Not even Alistair and Elissa seemed like they were speaking much. Alistair seemed distracted, as if he had much on his mind. Elissa simply looked tired. Wynne had been a bit introspective and standoffish since she'd been healed through blood magic, so Leliana was steering clear of her for the time being.

Sten and Kallian were never chatty, and Morrigan, who could usually be provoked into talking a bit, seemed engrossed in her mother's grimoire. Zevran could be relied on for a little banter, but Leliana often felt disappointed, like any talk with him was shallow. She understood why, but it still rankled her that he kept all of them at arm's length. The freedom to be oneself and express actual feelings was something she relished after leaving her bardic life in Orlais.

All in all, Leliana was happy to finally reach Orzammar. The entrance to Orzammar was a charming, lively market that she wouldn't mind spending some time exploring. But Kallian, unsurprisingly, had a one track mind. She had no interest in stopping in the market, even for supplies. She planned to find the monarch, acquire the army, and move on. But things, of course, were never that simple.

…

As they approached the great doors, Kallian could see a group arguing. Loghain's men, of course. They seemed to show up everywhere, like vermin.

She smiled a little to herself when she heard the guard deny them entry. But that smile dropped immediately when he said no outsiders at all. She would see about that.

She pushed past Loghain's men, to their annoyance and her satisfaction. "I'm a Grey Warden," she announced to the guard. "This treaty demands aid from Orzammar. You can't deny me as easily as you deny them," she said, waving a hand at the offended looking humans behind her.

She and the dwarf both ignored Loghain's men as one blustered something nasty about the Wardens. The guard examined the treaty she presented to him and sighed as he handed it back.

"That is the royal seal," he admitted. "Only the Assembly has the right to address this while we have no king. I cannot bar your entry."

Loghain's men, of course, refused to let them go without a fight, and Kallian was more than happy to oblige.

It was quick, easy, and satisfying to scare them off. These so-called soldiers had whet their blades on bandits and wolves. They'd probably shit themselves if they had to face darkspawn.

"He's calling himself King Loghain now?" Alistair muttered in the aftermath.

"Not for long," Elissa said, her face dark. "We'll deal with that at the Landsmeet."

Kallian didn't care what Loghain called himself. He was marked for death either way. She stroked her blade and smiled at the thought of ending him as they finally passed through the great doors of Orzammar.

…

Orzammar was a strange place, dim and warm, vast yet oppressive. Stone above their heads and lava beneath their feet. It was truly a marvel of engineering and architecture, but Alistair found it hard to appreciate. Heat wafted up over the edges of the bridges and platforms. The orange light from below cast strange and unnatural shadows. The murmur of a hundred voices surrounded them in a muffled echo.

Kallian stopped for directions once they were inside, intending on heading straight for the Assembly chamber. With no king, they were the ones to speak to. But before they could get too far, they were stopped by a crowd in the street. Two men, one armored and young, the other finely clothed but old, stood with their retinues behind them and spectators surrounding them.

"It is the Assembly who makes a king, and a king who nominates his successor. None of it is carried in the blood," said the grey-haired man.

"Or, as now, when someone tries using the Assembly to pull a coup," retorted the younger man in his shining armor. He raised his voice, now performing to the crowds. "Who's to say what my father said in his final hours when the usurper, Harrowmont, was the only one by his side?"

"I'll have you thrown in prison," growled the older man, apparently this Harrowmont.

"You've bitten off more than you can chew," the younger one retorted. His second pulled a weapon, but in a moment, they were separated by guards and it was over.

"This seems promising," Zevran said with a wry smile. He wasn't wrong. Everywhere they'd been there was infighting and disaster. Why should Orzammar be any different?

In the aftermath, one of Harrowmont's men approached Kallian. From what Alistair could see, it didn't seem she was enjoying the conversation. "I'm not Harrowmont's bloody errand elf," she snarled. "And if you think I'm a spy for that other guy, I'm pretty sure you noticed we just got here. How about I let you know if we're interested in talking to your master." Her hand was clenching on the grip of her blade as she turned away, face red and angry. "Idiot," she huffed.

Kallian led a forced march straight to the Assembly chambers, but they were rebuffed at the entrance. "The Assembly will not see you," the guard said. "Only a king can help you now. Pray to the ancestors that we will have one soon."

Kallian growled and turned to the group. "Any ideas on how to make them choose a damned king?"

"The man that approached you seemed to have some thoughts upon the matter," Wynne said. Alistair winced. Wrong move.

But Kallian didn't explode at Wynne the way he'd feared. She looked thoughtful for a moment and then grinned. "Maybe the other wannabe-king would like to hear about the old man's meddling. What's his name…" She snapped her fingers.

"Bhelen?" Leliana supplied.

"Yes," Kallian agreed. "We go to Bhelen. But that can wait for the morning. I want to try some dwarven food and sleep in a bed again. Pretty sure I saw an inn around here somewhere." She went straight for the nearest dwarf to ask directions and, as usual, the rest of them just followed in her wake.

…

They were nearly at the inn when Zevran saw Elissa, walking in front of him, sway. A moment later her knees gave out, and only a quick move on his part prevented her from hitting the ground.

There was a flurry of movement as everyone else reacted. Alistair pushed everyone out of his way to reach his wife, who he unceremoniously took from Zevran's arms as she tried to fight her way to standing. Kitty nearly knocked Morrigan down on his way to her side.

"I'm fine," she said weakly. "It's just very warm in here."

Alistair immediately put a gauntleted hand on her forehead. Zevran snorted. "Are you getting sick?" Alistair asked, sounding more than a little panicked.

Leliana nudged his armored hand out of the way and yanked off her leather glove to feel the other woman's forehead. "You do feel a bit warm," she said. She turned and glanced over her shoulder. "Wynne, can you–"

"Guys," Kallian interrupted. "Let's get out of the street and into the inn. Tuck the princess up in bed or whatever." She rolled her eyes. "Come on."

Stalwartly ignoring Elissa's protests, Alistair carried her right into the inn and–if Zevran had to guess–tucked her directly into a bed as Kallian had suggested. Most of them had stayed in the tavern below for food and drink, some worried and waiting to hear about Elissa and others merely enjoying having a tavern to drink in.

Alistair came down the stairs looking a bit shocked.

"What is it?" Leliana quickly asked.

"Wynne kicked me out," he said.

"Oh," Leliana said, sounding disappointed that there was nothing yet to tell.

"You let her kick you out?" Zevran asked, amused.

Alistair got a little spirit back. "She can be scary when she wants to!" he insisted.

The table was rife with denials and laughter. Zevran was sure that Wynne had a spine of steel beneath her old woman guise, but she was still, by far, the least scary person traveling with them.

…

"Well," Wynne said brusquely, "your temperature is a little elevated but not to the point of a true fever."

She stood by the edge of the bed, making Elissa feel small as she towered over her. "What about your cycle?"

Elissa blinked. "My cycle?"

"Some women feel weakness during their bleeding or in the days before it. Are you currently bleeding or expecting it soon?"

Elissa stammered, "No, well… I don't know exactly. I'm, um, not very regular."

Wynne frowned. "Have you had it since the wedding?"

Elissa's heart started to pound. "N-no but Isolde told me sometimes that can get worse when a woman starts an…" She felt the blush rising in her cheeks. "Intimate relationship."

Wynne snorted. "A possibility," she said. "But not, I think, the most likely."

Every bit of the blush drained from Elissa's cheeks. She couldn't speak.

"Most women aren't able to know for sure until the quickening," Wynne continued after a moment. "Fortunately, my healer training permitted me to learn certain spells which can be used to determine a pregnancy."

Elissa's heart pounded. This was all happening so fast. She didn't want to hear this.

Wynne seemed oblivious to her discomfort, or perhaps she was just ignoring it. She had begun moving her hands and speaking in an arcane tongue. A dim glow seemed to grow from Wynne's eyes. For a moment, she was very still.

Elissa watched the glow dissipate and waited to hear her fate.

"Congratulations, Elissa. Your child's soul is strong and shining brightly. The spell does not permit me to know the timing of conception, but certainly the birth will be no sooner than nine months from your wedding day."

Wynne looked at Elissa, and seemed to realize she was incapable of providing any sensible response. "Ah… let me get Alistair for you." And she slipped out of the room.

…

Tears burned at the back of Elissa's eyes. She would never admit it, but she'd been praying every day that she would not become with child until this was all over. She loved children, but she wasn't ready to be a mother! Shouldn't this have taken longer? She never thought it would happen so quickly, She was terrified of what was to come.

She began to sob, becoming increasingly insensible to the world around her. The next thing she noticed was Alistair's familiar arms wrapped around her and his voice whispering comfort in her ear. Her tears subsided and Alistair could hold back his questions no longer. "What is it, my love? Please tell me, what did Wynne say that upset you so much?"

"We're having a baby," she managed to choke out.

An expression of awe spread across Alistair's face. "Oh, Liss," he said softly and caressed a hand across her stomach. "This should be a happy time."

"Alistair, I'm so afraid," she confessed. "I'm not ready for this. I don't know what to do."

He pulled her tight to himself, kissing her hair. "We'll get through this together. You're not alone, love."

Elissa tried to calm herself, but she couldn't feel the same confidence as Alistair seemed to. It was her body, her life that would be most changed, and she feared it. She knew that he wouldn't let her fight now—and worse, she knew he was right to stop her. How could she protect him if she couldn't fight at his side? Who would watch his back like she did?

She shuddered and clung tighter to him, trying to calm her whirling mind and emotions.

…