#and alistair drinking a helluva lot of women-respecting juice this chapter

[carterhaughs]

vir lath sa’vunin

The end of the Fifth Blight heralds a new dawn for Ferelden and her peoples, but consolidating support for the young new king will not be easy, and rebuilding would be an arduous task even without the threat of residual darkspawn and fresh new horrors lingering in the wake of the Archdemon. Aelinor Surana and Alistair Theirin will need all the strength, savvy, cunning, and knowledge they can muster if they are to heal their country's hurts. With help from friends new and old and their love for each other, they will face down adversity as they always have: together.

Read @ Ao3

Note: "Vir Lath Sa'vunin" is a line from Leliana's Song - the one she sings to the warden after Zathrian and/or the Lady of the Forest die during the Nature of the Beast quest line. It is an old elven song that Keeper Lanaya may share with you in the form of a codex entry. The line means "we love one more day."

Relevant to this chapter: I recorded myself singing the song I wrote for Leliana here.

Chapter 4: Song and Dance

“The golden eyes I knew so well

Turned far their gaze from me

Foresworn was I to break the spell

But adamant was she

By dark of night she stole away

Far-flung her path did range

O’er heart and soul she still held sway

Folk found me passing strange

For in the depths of moonless night

I sought that spark of gold

Without her flame to keep it bright

I found my heart grew cold.”

Leliana finished up her song at the head of the dais to a smattering of applause. When she took her seat above the salt, she thought it would have set off more indignation among the nobles, but most of that seemed to be reserved for the two elven women she seated herself near: Aelinor Surana, hero of Ferelden and the new royal chamberlain, and Shianni, the new hahren of the Denerim Alienage. She’d taken her place at Aelinor’s right hand and stuck out slightly less there because they were both elves, but her manner of dress certainly drew the eye–simple linen and brocade but finely stitched in the manner practiced in many elven alienages.

“That was a beautiful ballad, Leliana,” said Aelinor. Her coppery hair seemed to shift from red to gold and back at once in the warmth of the torchlight, and Leliana was proud of her for wearing it down. It had taken some coaxing to get her to grow it out as she had kept it short ever since she could remember for practical reasons.

“Thank you. I thought I might try something new and not obviously Orlesian for my first day in court here. But ultimately I think it may not have mattered because all eyes were on the two of you.”

“For better or worse,” scoffed Shianni. But she grinned. “But surprisingly mostly for better, I think.”

“Indeed.” Leliana surveyed the room and noted that most of those seated at the table were preoccupied with their food now. “You’ve both conducted yourself with enough finesse that their attention has been successfully diverted by the cheese platter. They don’t find you as threatening as they expected.”

“Because they’re starting to accept us? Or because they think us token members of the king’s court?” asked Shianni, idly stirring her stew.

“From what I was able to gather, a bit of both, and neither. Some of them think you, pardon my phrasing, the king’s pet project because he has a certain...inclination towards elven women. Which is something I’m sure will always be bandied about court so long as he remains unmarried and works with the elven community. I think that would be true even if you weren’t his chamberlain, Aelinor. But your reputation as the savior of Fereldan is not without weight, and a fair few powerful nobles were open in their support of you, especially the younger set who finds the stuffiness of a staid and complacent royal court suffocating. You are their breath of fresh air, and Seranni with you. Keep your sharp tongue at the ready, Seranni, for it will mostly serve to remind them that you speak with authority under the king’s protection now. Aelinor must play the diplomat, but you can remain a firebrand.”

Shianni blinked, slightly dazzled. “Your friend is as savvy as you said, Aeli. I’m impressed.” Aelinor, however, appeared somewhat anxious as she craned her neck to get a better view of the room beyond the taller human guests at the table.

“And what of Anora, Leliana? How did the court find my handling of her insinuation?”

Leliana nodded in the direction of the dais, where Anora was in conversation with the king himself. “I think you must have handled it well, or she would not so readily admit defeat by speaking with the king himself in front of all the court. That looks too much like begging for her taste, even if it matters comparatively little to her peers. She is prideful, and not unlike her father in that way.” Alistair looked vaguely annoyed, one eyebrow raised in irritation, but other than that their conversation seemed peaceable. Aelinor breathed a sigh of relief.

“I know that won’t be the last time I’m confronted in such a way but I am glad to know you think I’ve successfully deflected her best efforts this time. But what is it that you think she intends?”

Leliana narrowed her eyes and watched Anora on the dais, the way she held herself ramrod straight and clasped her hands at the base of her spine, behind her back.

“My guess is that she is looking for a way to divide the two of you. To lessen your importance or presence here so other matters more to her liking will take priority. She has no hatred for the elves, but I doubt she wants the country’s resources spent on them more than she thinks necessary. She wants to control the political direction of the country, even without her throne.” Leliana turned to Aelinor and smiled. “I think she will find that difficult. Like everyone else here, I think she has found your bond with Alistair to be much stronger than they could have imagined–you are a formidable political force and you’ve presented them with a united front. So far, your reconstruction of the country has proceeded in a straightforward, efficient fashion they have found to be as fair as it is effective and you make a romantic pair, given your heroism. You give them hope, as you once gave me.”

Aelinor smiled in that slow tentative way she had, the way of all people Leliana knew who had little reason to smile for much of their life and were afraid of assuming it would last. She put a hand on her shoulder. “That is good to know. I will have to tell him so, later. I know he’s probably more worried than even I am, he’s just better at hiding it.”

“The two of you are the talk of the alienage,” added Shianni. “And that’s no small feat considering how little love we bear for humans. We won’t forget how you saved your own, and how you fought for us when the Blight was at your door. They sing songs in the street of how you and the witch summoned a storm to rend the heavens and struck down the ogre the moment it breached the barricade.” Morrigan. Leliana felt something cold and hard in the back of her throat, and swallowed it down.

Aelinor smiled, a distant look in her eyes as she thought back on their adventures. “One of my better efforts. I couldn’t have done it without her. I’m overjoyed to have a place in your songs and stories. I spent little enough of my life in the Lothering Alienage before I was taken to Kinloch Hold, but I tried to remember all of the songs and stories I could. I’ve had to grow up far away from the traditions of our people, and to be a part of that now...I can’t think of a higher honor.”

The reedy sound of pipes being tuned drifted across the room from the end of the hall, and Shianni’s ears perked up. “Speaking of our people...” She lobbed a thumb toward the growing ensemble of elven musicians opposite the trestle table. “They’ll be needing me on the lyre.”

Aelinor grinned in delight. “I didn’t know you were musical, Shianni! Or that you would be playing for us tonight!”

“It was the king’s idea; I assumed he told you. Perhaps he meant it to be a surprise.” She and Leliana exchanged knowing looks and Leliana could tell Aelinor was fighting back the urge to look in Alistair’s direction, staring fixedly at the spoon in her hand, eyes half-lidded with longing. Instead, she turned to Leliana.

“Now that it’s just the two of us...” she spoke in hushed tones. “I know you sang for her tonight."

Leliana looked into the middle distance at nothing in particular, restlessly shucking her spoon between her knuckles. She’d often perform tricks with silverware to make Aelinor laugh and to attempt to outdo Zevran’s sleight of hand, honed with far deadlier tools in his line of work. But tonight she did so only to give her hands something to touch, lacking what they used to hold.

"How are you faring? As soon as I can get away, I still plan on searching for Morrigan. Will you wait with me, until the time is right?”

She nodded. “I could never desert you while the kingdom still dances on the edge of a knife. Ferelden is not so big as Morrigan thinks. We will find her.” Aelinor did not ask what she would do if they did find her, and for that Leliana was grateful, because she had no answer.

The music started up–a high, keen, silver-noted tune the likes of which Leliana had rarely heard. It was a shame the elves kept so much to themselves, even in the cities. There was so much hidden beauty in their understanding of the world. Of course, that is a choice that was made for them, she reminded herself. It was something she hadn’t really thought on until she and Aelinor had grown close and she had explained on many an occasion that city elves did not relish their lot but made the best of it and protected what they could of what remained to them with as much ferocity as the Dalish.

Slowly but surely, most of the assembled nobles drifted towards the dance floor. Leliana looked for Alistair, expecting him to dance with some female dignitary or other out of politeness as she had told him he ought, but found he was headed directly for their side of the trestle table. She leaned over to whisper into Aelinor’s ear.

“His Majesty is feeling bold tonight, but after all that has transpired, I think you should too.” Aelinor continued to stare determinedly at her spoon. “He will ask you to dance, and I believe you should say yes. There will be no stemming the rumors, so you should give them something to talk about that you can control. The king will dance with his greatest champion tonight, and there will be no question as to who rules this country. Give them the certainty they require.”

Aelinor smoothed the pale blue linen of her dress beneath her as she stood and turned to meet his eyes as he approached. Leliana recognized the fear in her, the slight crease between her brows and the stiff, still way she held herself. She curtsied carefully and with painstaking precision, slow enough to gather her courage. Alistair, for his part, appeared perfectly at ease with his choice to bind himself to her so publicly. He gently tugged her up and out of her show of obeisance and took her hand in his. She was so small beside him, and over Aelinor’s shoulder, Leliana could see he looked on her with a clear-eyed intensity that asked nothing even as it offered everything.

“Lady Surana, may I have this dance?”

“With your leave, Your Majesty, you may. But I may be a poor partner, as I do not know the steps.” He chuckled softly, his eyes bright.

“It’s a good thing Shianni taught me, then, isn’t it?” Aelinor looked between him and the company of musicians at the end of the hall, and her reply caught in her throat even as her eyes glimmered faintly with what could only be tears. “I’ll take the lead for once.” And he led her hand in hand to the middle of the floor, which cleared immediately at his approach.

Alistair wasted no time, his hand sliding to her waist as he lifted the other to lead her through the steps, a series of quick and intricate movements so unlike the stately, measured court dances typical of Ferelden nobility. Aelinor caught on quickly, as it was not too unlike the movement required of her in combat as an arcane warrior, finessing the sure, swift movements of melee combat with the preternatural awareness of the resonance of her steps in realms beyond this one. Leliana wondered then if elves had danced over and through the Veil many centuries past, when they had reigned immortal. Alistair had chosen this dance with the intention of showing how much her culture meant to him, no doubt, but he was also giving the court an opportunity to understand what he saw in her and her people. It was an effective political maneuver, intentional or no.

Anora watched from the fringes of the crowd, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. It was time for Leliana to put her own gambit into motion. She made her way towards her, and curtsied. Anora nodded in acknowledgement and Leliana rose up to meet her steely gaze.

“And you are...? A bard, or something more sinister?”

“I am merely an adventurer and former Chantry sister, traveling companion to the hero of Ferelden.”

“Ah, yes. Leliana.” Anora narrowed her eyes. “And what would you ask of me?”

“Why, only your hand, Lady Anora. I have made a quick study of this new court dance and know you to be a talented partner, or so it is said.”

Anora rolled her eyes. “I had not heard as such. But knowing your sort, the exact opposite would be said of me were I to refuse you. Very well. Lead on...Sister Leliana.”