PSL with theirinurpants

[solitaryrose]

Is there a chance, a fragment of light
At the end of the tunnel, a reason to fight?
Is there a chance you might change your mind?
Or are we ashes and wine?
-A Fine Frenzy

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[solitaryrose]

Since the world was saved, things have gotten very quiet.

Loghain hasn't been seen in the capital since the coronation and celebration of the victory against the darkspawn. Mahariel has flitted in and out, but hasn't been seen in some time, as he tends to his duties as Warden-Commander. Wardens aren't beholden to schedules any more than the darkspawn. Alistair has been asked to stand still for measurements and fittings, but none of his input has been asked with regards to the wedding. Apparently nothing is expected of him but to repeat what the Grand Cleric says and avoid crying, tripping, or turning up overly drunk. In fact, Her Majesty's servants have assured him in no uncertain terms that they have everything totally in hand.

It's two weeks before the wedding when Her Majesty's servants are suddenly astir. Alistair can see one ducking out of Anora's quarters and telling another to fetch Erlina immediately because there is an emergency. A few minutes later, Erlina races into the room and is ushered in. There is the sound of loud speaking, Anora's voice louder than Erlina's. After a good half-hour, Erlina drizzles back into the hall, looking pale and wan. She approaches the new king, looking anxious.

"Your Majesty. Please forgive me, but...I beg of you to speak with the queen. She has never refused to listen to me before."

[theirinurpants]

After all the frenzied activity of defeating the darkspawn and ending the Blight, and being crowned and feted by all the nobles in the land - Alistair finds himself at somewhat of a loss in the weeks leading up to his - Maker's breath - wedding. Anora hasn't really spoken to him, and none of the servants want his help. Even the advisers are all busy with things but just wave him off when he asks if he can do something.

He needs to do something. All this nervous energy can't be good for him. Right? When was the last time he beheaded a genlock?

So it's with a certain amount of surprise that he receives Erlina's request.

"Um. What about?" he asks, looking totally baffled. What on Earth does Erlina think he might be able to say to Anora - a woman he barely knows - that no one else can?

[solitaryrose]

Erlina doesn't explain. She leads him into the room, where Anora sits on a stool and reads a book. In the center of the room on a screen hangs a beautiful white gown, cut in a streamlined Fereldan style with a long train and decadently embroidered. The queen looks up upon hearing someone enter. Her smug expression freezes with an eyebrow lifted upon seeing Alistair.

"My king," she says lightly. "How pleased I am to see you."

She's not. She is, in fact, displeased that Erlina has dragged the boy into this. The elf hopes to weaken her resolve with his stupid puppy face and his stupid helpless look. Anora won't give in. She is in the process of acting out, and will not be deterred. Bluff called, Erlina.

"Feel free to examine the dress," she says, turning back to her book. "I decided if I'm marrying the same man, I might as well wear the same dress."

Erlina winces and gives Alistair an apologetic look.

[theirinurpants]

What... is even happening here? If Erlina was assuming Alistair would start making stupid helpless puppy faces - she was right. He is. He totally is. He is really confused and unsure what he's supposed to say or do here.

But one thing does register - her snide comment about marrying the same man. That - why does that make him defensive? He's not sure.

"I'm not Cailan," he says finally, still not entirely sure what he's doing here or what Erlina expects him to say. "I didn't even know him! I mean - he was learning how to be a prince and I was playing in the mud with dogs." He glances at the dress - it really is very pretty, he's sure she looks stunning in it. "You can - wear whatever you like, I don't know anything about that, but - maybe we could try having a conversation before you decide I'm just like the brother I never knew?"

[solitaryrose]

The wind goes entirely out of Anora's sails. Perhaps Alistair can't see it, but Erlina can. If Alistair wanted to know the servant's purpose in bringing him here, it is shown on the corner of her mouth when it tips upward. She was not the one bluffing.

There will be a different wedding gown than this one. Nobody will allow the happy couple to be paraded before the banns with a clear statement of how poorly the bride thinks on the groom. The trouble is that Anora doesn't want to have a conversation with Alistair. She doesn't want to get to know and appreciate him because for that wearying and agonizing process to begin anew while she is barely finished mourning Cailan feels...

Adulterous.

She closes the book and motions for Erlina to leave the room. Looking satisfied, the elf bows and departs. Anora watches Alistair and waits for him to speak.

[theirinurpants]

There is clearly a lot of by-play here that Alistair is completely missing out on, but Erlina seems satisfied by whatever she sees on her mistress's face.

And then she leaves them alone. He's alone with Anora for the first time, ever, and she's looking at him expectantly, and how in Andraste's name did he end up in this ridiculous situation again?

Eventually, he takes a couple of steps across the room, and extends his hand, as if for her to shake.

"Hi," he says. "I'm Alistair. Nice to meet you. I wish I didn't have to be led around by servants all the time, but this place is huge and I know I'd get lost in two shakes of a dog's tail."

[solitaryrose]

The casual greeting is decidedly un-Cailanish, but spectacularly Maricish. The rest could have been spoken by any of the three. Anora is not yet convinced. If he wants to disarm her, he'll have to try harder. Her lips purse briefly.

"You understand that the only thing we have to do together is have a baby, yes? You needn't try so hard."

[theirinurpants]

That takes him aback a little. In part because - well, it's just not true. (Also he's trying very hard not to think about the making babies stuff yet.)

"What? No. We have a country to rule. Or did you forget about that time they sat us down and put those big ugly crowns on our heads? My palms get sweaty every time I think about it. Whether we like it or not, though, we're the king and queen of Ferelden and there's a lot of work to do."

He could've put his foot down. He's the first to admit he's more than a little bewildered by all of this, but he made the choice. He's going to own it.

"You don't have to like me. Well - I kind of hope you do, eventually, get around to liking me, it probably wouldn't be very pleasant married to someone you don't like. But - but Ferelden needs us."

[solitaryrose]

Ferelden needs me, she wants to say. Ferelden was doing fine while you grew up singing hymns and sleeping among dogs. But that would not be a useful thing to say, and it would be cruel to reduce his sacrifices that way. The boy is trying to do the right thing. She should give him that much.

She starts again, her tone a little softer.

"What I mean is that our duties barely require we be in proximity of one another. At least, that was the bargain struck with Mahariel, that I would govern in your name. You are free to do as you please, except for turning up at important events. I barely saw Cailan, by the end. He ran off chasing...glory, and skirts, and the like. There's no reason you couldn't do as he did. It seems to be what kings do."

A moment of hesitation.

"I would prefer you not to chase skirts, but if you do, please do so discreetly, and in a way that won't humiliate me. Otherwise, your time is your own."

[theirinurpants]

Alistair, frankly, looks a bit dumbfounded. Also, perhaps, slightly offended????? She doesn't even know him, why is she assuming all these terrible things about him?

"What are you talking about? Kings are - are supposed to lead. They're supposed to do good for their people. They made me king, I'm not just going to - to run around and... chase skirts! I'm going to do my job."

[solitaryrose]

"I thought you didn't want the job!" Now it's Anora's turn to look dumbfounded. She'd thought these negotiations over. She can feel herself being crowded back into the corner of having to fight to have her competency given power. "Everything I'd heard was that you had no interest in governing, and why should you? This has never been your life, you were never prepared for this. Maybe it was foolish for Maric to keep you out of it, but what's done is done. I know how to do this. You don't. You have good intentions, clearly, but you need to be responsible. When you made decisions as a Warden, you only put your life at risk. Here, you pay for your mistakes in the currency of lives, none of them yours."

[theirinurpants]

"Of course I didn't want it," Alistair says, frowning at her. "That doesn't mean I'm not going to try to be good at it. I didn't know anything about how to wield a sword, either, but I got sent to the templars anyway, and they taught me. I had to be taught how to be a Grey Warden, too, and now I'll learn how to be king!"

[solitaryrose]

"And who will teach you? Eamon?" The name drips with disdain on Anora's tongue.

[solitaryrose]

One minute, Alistair is minding his own business, reading one of the books she's having him read to prepare for his new job. The next, Anora is sweeping into the room, followed by a small train of servants.

"Alistair," she pronounces, "a word in private, please."

The servants are shed from her wake to dissipate somewhere out in the hall.

[theirinurpants]

He's - still not used to the way she just kind of walks in and tells people to do things and they do them. Honestly, Alistair usually feels like when he was a novice at the monastery and had to go see the Brother for discipline, it was always something he dreaded.

Still, though. He's king. She's queen. They're going to be - gulp - husband and wife soon. They should at least be on speaking terms... even if sometimes he almost wishes they weren't.

"Er - sure?" he says. "What do you want to talk about?"

[solitaryrose]

She comes face-to-face with him, hands folded before her.

"Shall we spend the night of the wedding in your chambers, or mine?" she asks matter-of-factly. Since it's only a few days away, they might as well get the minute details in order.

[theirinurpants]

It's a good thing he's not eating or drinking anything at the moment, because at her blunt words, Alistair nearly does a spit-take.

"Uh... what."

Okay, to be fair, he's been actively avoiding thoughts of the wedding night. To the extent that he's buried himself in anything that will let him do so. So... yeah.

[solitaryrose]

If that's how this is going to start, it's going to be one of those conversations, clearly. Instead of answering immediately, she moves to a nearby table and pours brandy from a snifter into two glasses. One glass she downs immediately before refilling and bringing the other to Alistair.

"The wedding night," she reiterates helpfully, refusing to patronize him. "In whose chambers? Doubtless we will both be too tired to make the decision immediately after the party, but regardless of what else we do, the both of us must end up in a single chamber or there will be gossip."

[theirinurpants]

Oh, good. A drink. Alistair could use a drink, especially if this is going to be the topic of this oh-so-important conversation.

He takes a swallow. It burns a little, going down. He coughs.

"Um," he says again, trying to think. Right. Eventually, the wedding party will wind down, it'll be late, and they will be expected to go to bed. Together. In one chamber.

"...Whichever is closest to the banquet hall?" he suggests helpfully.

[solitaryrose]

There is a slight helpless widening of Anora's eyes. She smothers her expression with a sip of brandy.

"They are equally distant. Unless you would propose doing things up against a wall somewhere, choose one."

[theirinurpants]

"No, no, that's - no," Alistair says with a cringe. That sounds so... public. And uncomfortable, to boot.

"I - I don't know - is there a right answer to this? What do you think we should do?"

[solitaryrose]

Sweet Maker. This brandy can't kick in fast enough.

"I'm asking you to make one decision," Anora says flatly. "A very small decision. If you're more comfortable in your room, this is your chance to make that call. Probably the easiest decision you will ever make as king, and I'm giving it to you for free."

[theirinurpants]

He winces a little at her words, still uncertain. The strangest things set her off sometimes. Will she be annoyed if she has to go to his room on their wedding night, instead of hers? Or will she be exasperated if he suggests her room, because that's just Not the Done Thing?

"I... I guess, mine?" he says, tentative.

[solitaryrose]

The truth is that Anora is just as anxious about this particular subject matter as Alistair. He is an easy target as an outlet, but she is genuinely trying to involve him in what she can, regarding the wedding. Maybe after he realizes she means it when she says it's a small decision--

Then something occurs to her that makes her skin feel a little cold. Alistair is made so uncomfortable by this, and practically quakes with trepidation. Theirin men have a flair for the dramatic, but this seems a little excessive even for them. And Alistair was raised in the Chantry.

Anora suddenly puts down her glass and checks to make sure there are no eavesdroppers outside. This is nobody's business but theirs. When she returns, she takes a deep breath, her entire demeanor changing from irritation to problem-solving serenity.

"Are you a virgin?" she asks under her breath. Just because she didn't see eavesdroppers doesn't mean they're not there.

[theirinurpants]

He knows, logically, this is a discussion they really need to have. It doesn't make him any more comfortable with it. Her question is a simple one, with a simple answer, and still his neck and ears burn red with embarrassment.

"Well, yeah," he admits, trying to sound nonchalant about it. And... then he word vomits at her.

"Look, I get it, you don't like me, you don't know me, we don't have to - to do anything, if you don't want, or we can - later, you know, once we get to know each other, or -"

He shrugs, helpless. This is terrible. This is really the part he's dreading the most. Running a country? Fine, he'll figure it out. Sex? With someone he not only doesn't love, but barely even knows? He wants to crawl into a hole somewhere until after the wedding.