elfhame | PSL with theirinurpants

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."

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?

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.

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?"

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.

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."

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."

Edited 2017-09-14 14:18 (UTC)

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."

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."

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."

"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."

Edited 2017-09-15 00:20 (UTC)

"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!"

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

Alistair gives her a Look.

"You seem more qualified than Eamon," he points out. Isn't it obvious?

Now she is disarmed. After a moment, her hands come together, fingertips interlacing and twisting slowly, a very elegant form of fidgeting. It takes her a bit to process this, to adjust from believing him another Theirin puppet to be controlled by stronger-willed men. He might indeed be the first man to really believe her an expert in her field, besides perhaps her own father--who still underestimated her.

"I..." The word proves the valve that opens to let all her air escape. She deflates, her gaze dropping away for the first time. "I see," she finishes at last. "So you're saying you want...an equal partnership. I think."

That, or he wants her to train her replacement as the real ruler of Ferelden.

Edited 2017-09-15 14:11 (UTC)

"Yes," he says, still looking baffled - as if that was obvious from the start, and he's shocked she hadn't figured that out sooner.

"We're going to be married - isn't that what husbands and wives are supposed to be?"

"Yes." Anora looks like a cat who expected a fight over a meal and instead got a rival stepping aside to make room for her. She's wary, but not afraid. After a moment, she stands and approaches him.

"Your chief advisor," she says, referring to Eamon, "was long a political rival of my father. And I know he did not rescue me so that I might remain queen. He will resent my influence over you. Will you defend my right to serve my people when he tries to wedge us apart?"

Edited 2017-09-18 13:38 (UTC)

Alistair frowns. "We're going to be married," he repeats. "You know - bound together legally and in the eyes of the Maker, for better or worse, all that. I'm not marrying Eamon. It'll be my job to defend you, from - all sorts of things."

He says things and she hears them, but they make no difference. Theirin men are always sincere in their intentions, but both Maric and Cailan were stauncher about intentions than follow-through. Nothing Alistair says in a moment is going to earn her trust. But she believes he is sincere. That is all she can ask, for now. Thinking back, she cannot think of a man in her life who did not betray her. A promise, a ring, a wedding, nothing will heal that overnight. If Alistair stays true, then he will stay true. If not, Anora will be on her own again, and she has experience relying on herself when she has no one else.

He doesn't look exactly like Cailan. His hair is redder, his skin a little darker, his eyes brown instead of blue. They have the same nose. The same jaw.

"Then I will be your teacher," she promises. "Since it is also my job to defend you from all sorts of things."

Alistair is... maybe a little surprised by how quickly she acquiesces. Maybe Eamon's opinion had started to become his own - that Anora really just wants power, and doesn't want to share. But - she seems willing. At least to try, which is all Alistair can reasonably ask of her.

He'll be the first to admit he might end up being a terrible king, in which case she might end up doing all the work anyway. But he has to at least try.

"Okay," he finally says. "Great. Well. Good talk."

And just like that, her armor comes back on. She purses her lips briefly.

"Good talk," she mutters back, turning back to her book. She can never tell if he's mocking her or if he really thinks he's funny.

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.

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?"

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.

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.

PSL with theirinurpants

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