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shannaraisles · 6 years

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The Rose In The Crown - Chapter 1

Summerday is always a day of joy, a day of marriages made and love affirmed. And for Ferelden, this Summerday is one to be remembered. King Alistair, ten years a king with no heir in sight, will finally marry his chosen bride.

Sequel to A Rose By Any Name.

Featuring the winners of my giveaway! Chapter one introduces @puddle--wonderful‘s character, Marguerite Dujardin!

[Read on AO3]

Chapter One

Spring had come to Ferelden at last, bringing with it warm sun and the promise of a long summer to follow.

Even the weather seemed to be celebrating with the people as they paused in their daily work for just a few days. Villages and towns across the country raised flags, festooning their streets with bright bunting, preparing to celebrate not only the many weddings due to take place on Summerday, but also the greatest wedding of their time - the marriage of their own King Alistair to Princess Felicita of Antiva. Though many of them had never even seen their king, they wished him well and happy in his marriage, looking forward to the day when he announced a new prince to celebrate over in the fullness of time. They could not help but imagine how very excited he must be, to be so close to the fulfillment of his own happiness after so many years alone. They might even have known about it ... if the palace staff could find him from one hour to the next.

As the date of the wedding drew nearer, it was becoming harder and harder to locate the king outside the hours he spent working. Worse, when he disappeared, he took his betrothed with him, as well as little Lady Maria, his new ward. With the palace in a state of barely contained chaos, anticipating the arrival of their most important guests for the celebration to take place in just two days' time, no one was admitting to seeing the king and his small family since breakfast. Or perhaps the staff were in on it, keeping the bride and groom from added stresses in the run up to the big day.

Because at least one person knew exactly where the king was as lords and ladies panicked about his absence ... the kennel master.

The kennels had welcomed their own newcomers just a few weeks ago - the king's own mabari, Lady, had given birth to five strong pups, sired by the Warden-Commander's hound, Monster, almost as soon as he had arrived in Denerim with his mistress to oversee the Month of Ladies, as it was now known - the Great Bride Hunt that had made this wedding possible. While Fergus, Teagan, and Anora were apparently unaware of it, this was where Alistair could be found when he disappeared from their reach in past days, and this was where he was now, lying in the warm hay with his head on his princess' lap, having his face licked with more enthusiasm than care by two boisterous mabari pups. Maria was sat cross-legged not so very far away, giggling as she played with the remaining three, and Lady, proud new mother that she was, had taken up station beside Fabs, her muzzle resting affectionately on the princess' shoulder. It was a playful, restful scene, especially for two people who had every reason to be particularly nervy about today's expected guests.

"Oh, so this is where you're hiding."

Fabs raised her eyes from her silent adoration of Alistair's relaxed face at the sound of a familiar voice they had not expected to hear today, glancing back down to see her beloved's lips part in a happy grin at the sight of Demelza Tabris leaning against the stall door. One of the puppies took the opportunity to lick inside his mouth, setting the king to spluttering along to the piercing giggles from Maria as she rocked on the floor.

"Serves you right for kissing someone you're not marrying in a couple of days," was Dem's mild response to this sight, though her grin brightened as she nodded to Fabs. "Princess."

"You know my name, Warden-Commander," Fabs objected with a warm smile. "I do wish you would use it."

"Interesting point of view, that," the elven Warden pointed out with a teasing arch of her brow. "You don't use mine."

Fabs' eyes narrowed above her own smile. "Well then, Demelza," she countered, rising to the bait. "What was my name again?"

Dem laughed, shifting from her lean to climb over the half door and into the stall with them. "All right, Felicita," she responded, "but I prefer Dem."

"Duly noted."

Fabs chuckled, raising her hand to pet the furry head on her shoulder as Lady huffed her own greeting to her master's best friend. Dem's hand joined hers for a brief moment, just long enough to say hello to the mabari queen before Alistair claimed her attention.

"I thought you were on your way to Tevinter and beyond?" he asked, pushing himself to sit up with a handful of pup.

Dem grinned at her friend. "Would you like me to go?"

"No!" Alistair's rush to insist that she stay was forestalled only by the laughter that erupted from his elven friend in answer, making him roll his eyes. "You know what? Yes. Go away if you're just going to tease me."

"My, my, aren't we testy today?"

Alistair sighed at the look on Demelza's face. "I know, I'm sorry," he apologized easily. "I'm not ... I didn't mean to be rude."

"We are both a little on edge," Fabs said, rescuing him from having to explain. "My parents are expected today."

"Oh, I see. Meet the parents." Dem nodded to herself, though her grin didn't fade. "You do have other guests arriving too, you know."

"Well, obviously, but I've met the Inquisitor," Alistair pointed out. "And Leliana doesn't frighten me anymore."

"She's here," Dem told him, and snorted with laughter at the sudden lurch this presented from her friend. "Oh, calm down. She stopped in the Chantry to have a few words with the Grand Cleric before she has to come and be all official at you."

"The Divine is here already?" Fabs asked, her eyes wide.

For a moment, it seemed surprising that the princess should be so startled by the prospect of meeting Divine Victoria. But Divine Victoria was also Sister Leliana, the Nightingale, the Left Hand of Divine Justinia. Fabs was expecting to meet a shadow from the past Divine's lifetime, a bard whose exploits in Orlais were close to legend, and more than that, a very old friend of the man who would soon be her husband. Leliana was much more the the Divine for the princess of Antiva - she was a legend, an icon, and more than a little intimidating.

Alistair was already aware of her nerves when it came to meeting such an illustrious person, for his response to her unnerved query was to reach over and claim her hand in his own, raising her knuckles to his lips for a softly reassuring kiss.

"I promise you, love, she is not so terrifying as your imagination paints her," he said in his warm way. "She is probably more excited about our getting married than we are!"

Fabs relaxed visibly as Alistair offered up his reassurance, but there was no denying she was more than a little starstruck about meeting Divine Victoria, the legend in her own lifetime. Still, she smiled at her betrothed's gentle kiss to her hand, leaning toward him unconsciously as Dem smirked to herself.

"Well, you can't hide here all day," the elven Warden pointed out. "Leliana stopped off in Skyhold on her way here - the Inquisitor and his party are just being settled, but they'll be expecting a welcome pretty soon."

Fabs perked up at this news; she had been looking forward to the Inquisition party arriving for several days now. "Did he bring Josephine with him?" she asked, hopeful that this old friend would be one of the representatives included in the invitation to the wedding.

Dem shrugged. "How would I know? I don't do all that diplomacy stuff."

"No, you just laugh behind my back while I get it wrong," Alistair pointed out with a grin, scooping the puppies off his lap as he pushed himself to stand. He offered his princess a hand. "Let's go and get the official business over with. I know you're dying to gossip about Antivan underwear or whatever with your friend."

Maria looked up a little mournfully from her own doggie companions as Fabs rose with Alistair's help, her hands lingering in his. There was no disguising her smile as he took the opportunity to steal a kiss before Maria's voice drew their attention away from one another.

"Do I have to go, too?" the little girl asked, her expression making it perfectly plain that she hoped she would not have to leave the kennel for a good long while yet.

Fabs glanced at Alistair with a fond smile, reaching down to gently tweak the Rivaini child's chin affectionately. The past two months had brought the little girl ever closer to her heart; she could not now imagine life here in Ferelden without the child who would be her own adopted ward in just two days' time.

"No, little one, you do not have to come with us right now," she promised. "But later, you will have to be a little lady for the Divine and the Inquisitor, and my parents, too."

Maria bit her lip worriedly. "Will they like me?"

Alistair chuckled, bending double to bounce the tip of his nose against hers. "If they don't, I'll challenge them to a duel," he told her in a comical tone. "Me against all four of them, what do you think?"

The little girl grinned back at him. "I think you will be all bloody and bruised for your wedding day, Your Alistairness," she responded in a cheerful tone, utterly bemused when Dem burst out laughing at the open declaration of Alistair's new epithet from his adopted ward.

"I think you're right," Alistair agreed, ignoring his friend for a moment. "Will you do us the honor of joining us for the midday meal, Lady Maria?"

"Can I bring my puppy?"

Fabs interjected at this point - she was already caught between Alistair and some of his nobles when it came to appropriate behavior; she was determined to make sure Maria didn't join in with his occasionally silly ideas.

"No, little one, they are too small to be away from their mama right now," she reminded the little girl fondly. "In another month, they will be big enough. And perhaps one of them will have imprinted on you. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"Will it be my best friend for always if it does?" Maria asked hopefully.

"Oh, absolutely," Dem agreed with enthusiasm. "You've seen me and Monster. And I didn't meet him until I was sixteen!"

Cheered by this thought, Maria was quite content to let them all leave the stall and the kennels, absorbed in the antics of the five pups as they swarmed around her in the wake of the adults' leave-taking. Fabs couldn't help but be glad that the little girl was so easily contented with her four-legged friends; they would provide a good sanctuary for her over the next few days, while the adults were engaged with important guests and the whole ... wedding thing. As a working king, Alistair could not take more than a few days away from his duties to celebrate his own marriage, but for those few days, they were going to leave Denerim and stay in a villa on the coast, overlooking the sea. Maria would be staying in the capital, under the care of Fergus Cousland officially, but more likely in the company of Ceri and Ciara, both women she trusted without question. After all, when Alistair and Fabs returned, it would be as her married pseudo-parents. That was worth a few days without them.

Fabs still couldn't quite believe it - that in just two days' time, she would be Alistair's wife, Ferelden's queen, her own mother's equal in rank and her superior in responsibility. It was ... overwhelming, in a way. She had come to Ferelden at her father's instigation, unaware that her invitation was to a contest for the hand of the king. She had been determined not to engage in that contest yet, as she grew to know the man behind the crown, her heart had changed her mind. She had almost destroyed her chance by giving into doubt, only to have him chase her through the streets just to make sure she didn't leave. And now, two months later, she was within days of accepting the prize - not the crown, though she knew some of the other ladies had wished for it, but the man. Her man, her Alistair, who needed her love more than he could say ... who loved her in his own turn with a sweet devotion she knew she would never feel worthy of.

She knew she was lucky in the approval of his friends, too - that Demelza and Fergus seemed to like her and approve of her influence over him; that Arl Teagan was not automatically set against her. Luck had also been with her in the settling of her own new friendships - of Ciara and Ceridwyn and Anora, who had all been close by her whenever she had needed them these past two months. Indeed, Ciara had happily accepted an invitation to be the queen's first lady, and Anora slid easily into the role of mentor and teacher, and trusted confidante, cementing the friendship that had begun with little more than curiosity. She was not as alone here as her mother had feared she might be. In just a few hours, she would be able to reassure her parents in person that they had no need to fear for her future.

But for now, there were other important guests to greet - Inquisitor Doshiel Lavellan and Ambassador Josephine Montilyet, to be precise. Though Divine Victoria would likely join them within the hour, Fabs could turn her nerves to one side and focus on the others. She had not seen Josephine for years, not since the woman had been sent to Orlais as the official ambassador from the Antivan court, but correspondence had never ceased between them, even during the widespread conflict that had brought the Inquisitor to prominence within Thedas politics. Of course, Fabs had other friends in the Inquisition, too - friends whom she had never met but had shared letters with for years, friends who had imparted hints that Josephine was a good deal closer to the Inquisitor than she herself had intimated. Fabs had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing this for herself.

And there they were, waiting in the private royal audience chamber with Anora and Teagan, making small talk together with one another. Fabs couldn't help a curious look at this fifth member of the party. The woman looked familiar, though she was sure they had never met. But there was something in the dark curl of her hair, the dusk-dark warmth of her skin, the bold, hopeful smile she sent toward the Antivan princess ... yes, she was familiar, yet Fabs could not place her.

"Your majesty, your highness," Anora was saying as they entered, Alistair belatedly releasing Fabs' hand with as much obvious reluctance as she felt. "May I present Inquisitor Lavellan, and Ambassador Montilyet."

"We've met," Alistair reminded her without rancor, offering his open hand to Doshiel Lavellan as a warm smile crossed his face. "Inquisitor, it is a pleasure to see you again. May I introduce you to my betrothed, Princess Felicita of Antiva?"

Fabs felt her mouth snap shut with an audible thunk. Doshiel Lavellan was tall for an elf, equaling her in height, built broad across the shoulders, strong with muscle honed for wielding his weapon of choice. The vallaslin markings on his face were a rich purple in color, though their meaning was lost on her, almost blending into the twilight-dusk of his weathered skin until they caught the light. He turned to her, bowing low, and she had to force herself not to look at his left hand - the hand where the mark of Andraste still dwelt, so they said.

"Your highness," he said, his lilting tone strangely soothing from the impassive face he presented. "Thank you for inviting us to your wedding."

"After all you have done for Thedas, for Ferelden, Inquisitor, it should be no surprise that you were invited," the princess answered, aware that Alistair was grinning at her wide-eyed hero-worship. "Were it not for you, we would not have this peace to enjoy together. You are very welcome."

Doshiel nodded to her, a half-smile illuminating his face briefly before his companion stepped forward.

"Am I welcome also, princesa?" Josephine asked, her tone teasingly arch, and Fabs felt her awkwardness melt away.

She surged forward to embrace an old friend, laughing as Josephine hesitated at the impropriety before returning that embrace with a warmth she had missed since they had last seen one another.

"It has been so long, Josie," Fab enthused softly, drawing back with a bright smile. "It is so good to see you."

"And I, you," Josephine responded, her eyes crinkling in affectionate amusement. "The little trouble-maker of the Antivan palace has grown into her potential, I see."

"Trouble-maker?" Alistair asked, curiosity firing in his voice and gaze.

"I did not make so much trouble," Fabs began to defend herself, but Josephine laughed, cutting her off.

"You released four feral kittens into the kitchens on your sister's wedding day," the ambassador reminded her in amusement, turning to add for the king's enjoyment, "Fur everywhere. In the dessert that was served, as well."

Alistair's grin deepened as he considered his bride. "I have to admit, this is a side of her I have not heard much about," he said merrily. "I think you and I shall have a great deal to talk about, ambassador."

"I look forward to it, your majesty," Josephine answered with smooth aplomb, turning to draw her other companion forward. "May I introduce my assistant, Lady Marguerite Dujardin? She - "

"Marguerite!"

As the name dropped, Fabs knew who this woman was. No, they had never met, but they had been friends for years, communicating by letter with increasing intimacy as they grew older and drew away from the friends insisted upon by family and duty. She had never thought she would actually meet the Orlesian beauty she had befriended from miles away, yet here she was. And Fabs being who she was, there was only one way to greet such a wonderful surprise.

Marguerite was already laughing as the princess launched herself across the room to throw her arms about her, the two women swaying as they embraced one another tight.

"It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, princess," she began, but Fabs shook her head.

"No, my dearest friend, you must use my name," she insisted. "I am Felicita, or Fabs, and you are Marguerite. And I am so delighted to finally meet you!"

She surged close again for another warm embrace, no doubt thoroughly bemusing the others in the room. Over her shoulder, she heard Josephine laugh a little helplessly.

"I see you already know each other," the ambassador was saying as she turned back to Alistair.

Detaching herself from Marguerite, though only briefly, Fab turned to the others with a warm smile.

"Forgive my enthusiasm," she apologized. "Marguerite has been a good friend of mine for many years, though we have never met in person. It is such a wonderful surprise to have her here!"

Beside her, Marguerite dropped a belated curtsy to the king, apparently as amused by the princess' greeting as everyone else. Alistair's smile relaxed as he inclined his head to the Orlesian woman.

"Any friend of Fabs' will always be a welcome sight in Denerim, Lady Marguerite," he assured her. He glanced at Fabs herself, catching her eye with a knowing glint in his own. "I am sure you have much to talk about. Please, don't mind us."

With a last nod to his betrothed, he turned back to the Inquisitor and Josephine, Dem at his side, and Fabs took the opportunity to draw Marguerite over to the window, clinging to her hands in delight.

"How is it that I did not know you were coming?" she demanded merrily. "I would have asked you to be a part of the wedding party, had I known!"

Marguerite's dark eyes were dancing with mischievous delight of her own as she answered. "I did not know until a day before our party left Skyhold," she told her friend. "Josephine's other close assistant volunteered to remain behind and keep on top of the Inquisition's political struggles in her absence, I think purely because Commander Rutherford also remains at Skyhold."

"Oh, you are talking of the woman out of place, yes?" Her interest piqued, Fabs moved to make herself comfortable on the window seat, drawing Marguerite to sit with her. "Has the commander asked her yet, do you know? And has the Inquisitor asked Josephine yet? There are so many questions left unanswered since the last letter I received from you!"

Marguerite laughed gently, patting her hand. "I do not know everything that happens in Skyhold, your- ... Felicita," she said, correcting her address almost before she had begun it. "But no, I do not believe either question has been asked yet."

"And what of your own knight-captain?" Fabs pressed, eager for gossip face-to-face rather than in written form. "Do you hope for such a question yourself?"

Marguerite's dusky skin flushed prettily as she glanced to the window for a moment. "Perhaps," was all she would say. "Now that the world is calmer and I am no longer required to be patriotic to my homeland, perhaps I am thinking of calling another land home."

Fabs actually squealed, reduced to the status of an over-excited child at this exhilarating news. "But why did I not know you were coming?"

"I thought to surprise you, princess," was Marguerite's answer, trimmed with a soft huff of laughter at the mildly affronted look she received in reply. "I am so pleased to be here, and to see you so happy in yourself. You have been searching for a long time. I am very glad that you have found purpose in life and in love. You have been alone for too long."

Without quite realizing it, Fabs' gaze slipped to where Alistair was seated with the rest of the party, her own smile softening at the sight of his animation in conversation. Marguerite's squeeze of her hand brought her back to her companion, only to find a sly, knowing smile quirking at her friend's lips.

"You love him very much," the Orlesian beauty said quietly. "And he adores you. It is plain to see within moments. Even if I had not had your accounts of these past months to forewarn me, I should have seen it. I am not at all surprised that the people are so very pleased that you will be their queen."

At this, Fabs felt the little knot in her stomach tighten, her smile fading just a little. "I am afraid, Marguerite," she admitted in a low voice. "I never dreamed that love and marriage would make me a queen, yet here I am. I do not know what to expect of the role, what they expect of me. I am so very afraid I will let them down."

"You will not let them down," Marguerite responded near instantly, leaning closer to keep their conversation from reaching any other ears. "They will not expect you to know from the beginning exactly what to do and how to do it. They know you are trading life as a princess in a state that has little use for its monarchy for life as a queen in a land where royalty works every day for the good of the people. And they also know that alliance with Antiva through you affords their land additional safety, even without the friendships you have made over the years. The simple fact of your being is enough for them, and will remain so even as you transition into the role you have accepted by loving the king."

"You seem so very confident of that," Fabs murmured, uncertain if she should share that confidence. When she allowed herself to think on what her life would be in just two days' time, she felt overwhelmed.

Maguerite squeezed her hands once again. "I have moved in noble circles all my life, Felicita," she reminded the princess. "I have seen what it takes to truly be a ruler. You have it in you to be a great queen. And you will not be alone. You have your Alistair, and the friends you have made here. Ferelden will not suffer under your rule, I am certain of it."

Fabs felt the smile rising before it showed on her face, too excited to be a wife to allow fears of being a queen to overwhelm her happiness. "I do have Alistair," she agreed. "I do not know quite how or why he loves me, but he does. If a wife's duty is to support her husband, then I will do so with a light heart, because I love him so dearly."

"I should think you would do it even if it wasn't a wife's duty," Marguerite commented in a wry tone. "I have never known you to shrink from any opportunity to help anyone, especially if you love them."

It was Fabs' turn to laugh at this. "Ah, but you did not know me when I was a selfish, spoiled little girl," she pointed out, the glint of her own eyes as teasing as it was charming.

"True, but we were all selfish, spoiled little girls once," was Marguerite's wise response.

"Indeed."

This new voice startled Fabs into looking up, surprised to find a red-haired woman in a simple Chantry robe suddenly standing nearby. The woman was smiling at them both - a little guarded, perhaps, but smiling, nonetheless. She was a stranger to the princess, however.

"Leliana!" Alistair burst out, rising to his feet with a truly happy smile on his face. "How did you get in without being announced?"

Divine Victoria - for that was who this redheaded woman was, it seemed - laughed a rich, delicate laugh as she turned to greet her old friend, the king, clasping his arm and pulling him into a rough hug.

"Do you really wish to know the answer to that, Alistair?" she asked in a light tone. "I was not always as I am."

"Still crazy?" he asked in turn, accepting the light thump of her fist to his arm with a low chuckle.

"Still listening to the Maker," was her reply.

Others in the room were rising to greet her - to greet a woman who was known to them all in some way. Fabs rose with them, but hung back, her gaze following the legend that was Leliana, Divine Victoria, Sister Nightingale, as she greeted her friends from the Inquisition, acquaintances from the past, and ... She almost gasped when Divine Victoria clasped both hands to Demelza Tabris' face and kissed her tenderly, suppressing the sound before it could be heard as the memory flashed of the loving relationship the two women shared. A relationship that was still extant, it seemed, despite the rise in the bard's status. When the Divine turned to her, Fabs felt her knees automatically bend, the curtsy coming from the deepest ingrained instincts that had been trained into her from birth.

"So this must be Princess Felicita," Leliana said, looking her over with an appraising expression in her eyes. "Do stand up, dear. There is no need to stare at my shoes today - they are nothing special."

Hesitantly, Fab raised her eyes, slow to rise from her curtsy as she glanced toward the others in the room. Dem was grinning behind her hand; encouraging smiles abounded from every person around them who considered Leliana a friend. Even Alistair gestured for her to speak freely, despite knowing that his betrothed was more than a little starstruck when it came to this Divine.

"Most Holy, I -"

"Oh, there is no need to call me that." Leliana waved a hand dismissively. "In private, princess, here among friends, I am still Leliana." She tilted her head back to meet Fabs' astonished eyes. "And I will be very pleased to call you my friend. Alistair has needed someone to hold his hand since before I met him."

"I can function on my own, you know," Alistair objected in amusement, opening his hand automatically as Leliana nudged Fabs back to his side.

"Nonsense, Alistair, you will always be a clumsy little puppy to me," the redhead teased him cheerfully.

Dem snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes. "Believe it or not, princess, this is actually an improvement in their relationship."

"In that case, I am not entirely sure I wish to know what their relationship was before," Fabs managed, pressing herself into Alistair's side as her fingers tangled with his. She was surrounded by heroes and legends. If the Champion of Kirkwall walked in now, she thought she might possibly have to go and hide under the nearest bed.

Alistair laughed, tilting his head to touch his temple to hers. "I wasn't the most ... discerning ... of people when we first met," he told her. "I may or may not have decided she was crazy right from the start."

"And maintained it for a decade," Leliana added, her fond amusement plain. "Oh, it is so good to be back among friends. Inquisitor ... Josie!"

As the redheaded Divine rushed to embrace Josephine, drawing the attention of the room with her, Alistair raised Fabs' hand to his lips, brushing a tender kiss to her thumb as he sought her slightly wild-eyed gaze.

"There now, you see?" he murmured to her. "She's not that intimidating, is she?"

Fabs couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

"Says the man who traveled with her for months long before she became the legend she is now," she countered, grateful for the way he stayed with her, rather than follow his friends back to their seats. "You have powerful friends in interesting places, mi amor. You cannot blame me for admiring them as I do. Their stories have shaped our world."

"I suppose you're right," he conceded, albeit begrudgingly. "You still like me best, though, don't you?"

"Alistair ..." Laughing, she turned to him, reaching up to trace her fingertips along his cheek. "You need a shave."

He sighed. "I always need a shave." His own hand covered hers, pressing her palm to his cheek. "Still like me best?"

"I am marrying you in two days," she reminded him, her voice soft with affection as she leaned close to brush the tip of her nose to his. "I love you, silly man."

"I will never grow tired of hearing that," was his reply, a grin hiding the waver of his certainty as he closed the distance to kiss her tenderly. "Two days, my fabulous Fabs."

"Two days," she agreed, adding out of pure mischief, "And my parents."

His groan made her laugh as they turned back to their current guests. Though, yes, her parents were arriving in just a few hours, and more guests would also be making themselves known right up until the evening meal tomorrow, this short time could be set aside for old friends that were as close as family. And that was a good thing, Fabs knew. Her soon-to-be husband had no family he could call upon, yet the world was littered with friends who would drop everything to aid him if he chose to call on them. That was a family worth the having, she knew, a family she was proud and privileged to be allowed to join in some small way.

Two days was too long and too short a time to wait, yet when those two days were over ... her Alistair would never be alone again.

#the rose in the crown #alistair theirin #princess fabs #alistair x oc #sequel fic #maria theirin #demelza tabris #doshiel lavellan #josephine montilyet #leliana #two days before the wedding #nerves and excitement #established relationship #friendship #fluff #let's face it #all of this is going to be fluffy #five chapters of fluff to be exact

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shannaraisles · 6 years

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A Rose By Any Name - Chapter 14

In which Alistair does what a king does best (in theory) and encounters something he wasn’t expecting. Banner created by the superb @kagetsukai.

[Read on AO3] OR [Read from the beginning]

There was nothing worse than letting Maria down, Alistair had decided. But since this particular instance of letting her down actually involved her future, he thought he was allowed to feel slightly less guilty about it on the whole. That still didn't make telling her that their playtime was going to have to be postponed any easier.

"But ... you said we could play ..."

There was the pout, and the big eyes, and Alistair could feel the guilt coursing through him as he crouched down beside her.

"I know I did," he told her, sure that the best way to get through this was to admit he had done wrong and make sure he made it up to her later. "I'm a terrible cad, and you have every right to be angry with me. To make it up to you, I will set aside my entire afternoon tomorrow. Is that enough to earn your forgiveness? Please, please, pretty please, oh gorgeous little mischief Maria?"

The pout didn't last long in the face of his cajoling, breaking into giggles as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his shirt. Alistair grinned, hugging the little girl fondly in return.

"All right," she conceded. "But only if we get the whole afternoon, and you do the horsey thing."

"Again?"

But even he couldn't feign weariness with her favorite trick, which was to ride him like a horse until someone pointed out how undignified it was for the King of Ferelden to be galloping around the palace neighing. Alistair chuckled, nodding as he rose to stand once again.

"I bow to your whim, little lady," he promised her, raising his eyes to find Princess Fabs standing to one side. Unconsciously, his face lit up with a bright smile as he took Maria's hand to escort her to the princess' custody. "I give the marvelous madame of mischief into your care, Fabs."

The Antivan woman's smile seemed unenthusiastic in answer, a far cry from the warmth of the day before. "Thank you, your majesty," she answered, polite but cool.

Alistair's smile faltered. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, unable to keep himself from inquiring. "You seem ... out of sorts."

"Nothing that time will not heal, your majesty," she assured him, taking Maria's hand into her own.

"Alistair," he corrected her. "My name is Alistair."

"It does not seem appropriate that I call you by your name," Felicita told him quietly, glancing toward the ladies waiting for her, namely Ciara, Callista, and Ceridwyn. "You are the king, and I am merely a guest in your home."

Alistair stared at her, nonplussed by this odd sense of detachment. She'd been so warm, so lovely, and now ...

"Have I offended you, princess?" he pressed, his hand hesitating between them, wanting to take her hand but knowing that to do so would result in gossip he wasn't quite ready for. "If I have, there was no intention to -"

"Alistair!"

His jaw clenched at the peremptory call from behind him. Only one of his nobles did that, and with this unexpected council meeting looming before him, it did not bode well for the tone of the evening ahead. Felicita's expression turned to a frown as she looked past him to Arl Eamon, her gentle eyes hard for a long moment until Alistair heard his uncle stutter an apology. I really should learn how she does that.

"Your majesty ... I mean. Your council is waiting."

Let them wait, Alistair thought irritably. Fabs is upset about something and she won't tell me what it is. But Fabs was not going to tell him, it seemed, already lowering into a curtsy with Maria.

"We will not take up any more of your time, your majesty," she promised, her smile brightening as she looked down at her little companion. "We have things to do, don't we?"

Maria's face lit up. "Painting things?" she asked, squealing happily as Felicita nodded.

"Dare I ask?" Alistair grinned down at her.

Maria offered him a sweet smile in return. "No, because it's a secret."

"Ah, well, a lady must be allowed her secrets," he agreed affectionately. His gaze rose to meet Fabs' once again. "Though I hope she would share some of those secrets with those who care to know them."

He was pleased to see her smile in answer, though it was still not the smile he recalled from just a day ago.

"A lady would share everything with the one who loves her," she informed him candidly. "And it would be a pleasure to have such trust."

"It would," he agreed, relaxing his concern just a little, though confusion still tugged at his heart. There was a pointed cough from behind him, and he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Forgive me, I really must go. Enjoy your evening, ladies."

He bowed to them - little lady, princess, and friends - and turned to stalk past Eamon toward the council chamber, inwardly berating his uncle. He'd never yet managed to say the words out loud, but just the fact that he was playing what he would like to say through his mind was a sign that things were definitely beginning to come to a head in that relationship. It was time Eamon stopped reaching for power that was never his to dream for, and with luck, this session would make it blindingly clear that the arl's star was fading.

That luck was definitely with him, it seemed. As soon as the doors were closed, Eamon started.

"What is she doing here?" he demanded, just barely preventing himself from pointing at Anora, seated demurely at the privy council table. "This is a privy council meeting."

"Teyrna Mac Tir is here at the king's invitation, Arl Eamon," Fergus Cousland said sternly, dropping into his own seat opposite Anora and beside Shianni Tabris.

"She resigned her seat!" Eamon protested, but didn't get any further.

Demelza had just walked in through the door he had closed behind them, her own closing sounding rather more final than his had. The elven Warden and Hero of Ferelden offered him a brittle, insincere smile.

"Oh, has the bitching started already?" she asked innocently. "What a shame, I do enjoy watching elderly men behaving like bigoted old farts in company."

Shianni didn't even try to hide her snort of laughter at this announcement; even Alistair had to fight not to let his uncle see how widely he was smiling. The privy council was a small group of trusted friends, and met very rarely - what they would be discussing was actually what Alistair would usually discuss with Eamon, Shianni, and his secretary, Cormac. Eamon had learned not to dismiss Shianni reasonably early on; it appeared that he had forgotten he was not the only voice in Alistair's sphere. While Fergus did not often have the leisure to come to the capital and join them, and Dem was a rare face in Denerim too, they both had as much, if not more, right to sit on this council than the arl himself.

"Do sit down, uncle," Alistair suggested, taking a seat himself.

He watched as Dem placed herself quite deliberately next to Shianni, leaving the only vacant seat the one directly beside Anora. Eamon's jaw twitched, but he kept his mouth shut, sitting down stiffly next to the teryna who, it had to be said, didn't look any happier with the seating arrangements.

Alistair nodded to each of them, sobering his expression. He wasn't wholly sure this council meeting was going to go well - Eamon seemed to be spoiling for a fight, no doubt hoping to regain a little of the dignity he had lost over the Rosamunde fiasco.

"Cormac?"

The king's personal secretary was seated beside him, ready with the matters that needed discussion and decisions made by this select group. He shuffled his papers a little nervously.

"Your majesty." Clearing his throat, Cormac looked around at the gathering of the privy council. "There are only a few matters that require input. For one, the appointing of a new Orlesian ambassador. Emperor Gaspard has appointed Lady Jolien De Valors to the position here at court - she is expected within a week."

"Lady Jolien is a known spy," Anora offered in a tone of vague suspicion. "Rather too well known to be given such a prominent position. I would suggest investigating the staff she brings with her for the true spy."

"Such suspicions merely show how deeply your father's prejudices are instilled in you, Anora," Eamon scoffed. "To assume that the Orlesians would send a spy to our court -"

"- is perfectly acceptable, uncle," Alistair pointed out. "Aren't you the one who told me that I must expect and accept the presence of foreign spies within the ambassadorial appointments to the palace?"

"There is no need for Orlais to place spies in the palace," Eamon answered. "We are allies."

"We are also allied with Nevarra and Antiva, and it is not unreasonable to assume they have agents among their people here," Fergus interjected. "It's a common political practice, Eamon. Far better to know which of the Orlesians needs watching than to let them pull the wool over our eyes with such an obvious appointment to the vacant position."

"With your permission, your majesty, I will coordinate with the spymaster and learn what we can of Lady Jolien's party," Cormac offered.

Alistair nodded, ignoring the annoyed expression on his uncle's face. He caught Shianni's eye, the familiar glint that told him she had something to say but needed to be invited to speak before she would interrupt.She had never yet volunteered her information without Alistair inviting her to, no doubt a holdover from her worst experiences before the Blight.

"There was some talk of the former Orlesian ambassador interfering in the running of the alienage," he said, giving the elven bann the invitation she needed. "Shianni?"

"We found the collaborator," the redhead said in her stern way. "A human merchant who employs some of my people was putting pressure on them to carry messages - threatening their homes, their jobs, that sort of thing. It's been passed on to the Bann of Denerim, but I can't say for sure he's done anything about it."

"I'll suggest he does," Alistair assured her. "I will not have the elves mistreated or made pawns in some elaborate game designed to make them the enemy, not again."

"Thank you."

Shianni nodded to him, glancing to Dem, who was smiling in approval. Having an elf in his inner councils hadn't been a shrewd political move, but it was one of the best decisions Alistair had ever made. There had been no trouble in the alienage for a decade, thanks to Shianni's ability to let him know when his human nobles were letting things slide. In fact, there had been very little trouble in any of Ferelden's alienages since it had become known that if the local bann or arl did not curb their human people's excesses, somehow word of it would reach the king, and he would very pointedly demand they did their duty.

"Is there any more news on the hunt for the assassin?" Alistair asked then, turning his attention to Fergus Cousland.

Fergus shook his head wearily. "Not a sign," he admitted. "We are rapidly coming to the conclusion that it must have been a freak accident. It's not entirely unfeasible that a fire was lit in that room erroneously, and if left unattended, burning wood could have jumped onto the rug and started the blaze."

"Wasn't the blaze started on the bed, though?" Dem asked in a curious tone.

"That's where the confusion comes in," Fergus admitted. "It is possible that Ceri's attempts to fight the fire before alerting anyone may have transferred the flames to the bed and thus made it worse."

"Ceri?" Dem repeated innocently.

Alistair bit down on his smile as Fergus flushed, stumbling over a correction to the familiar way he had spoken of one of the prospective brides. Not that the king minded at all; it was good to see Fergus finding some common ground with someone who was definitely determined to make him smile.

"I would suggest we maintain the close guard on the ladies, however," Fergus went on, rolling his eyes at the knowing trio of feminine smiles pointed at him from around the table. "We may yet have missed something, and it would be better to be safe, rather than sorry."

"True," Anora agreed. "One threat to our foreign visitors is permissible - a further suggestion of violence against them will have a devastating effect on our place in international politics."

"All right, maintain the watch," Alistair told Fergus with a nod. "But relax it a little where you can. Maria, in particular, is very uneasy to always be in the close presence of an armed soldier."

Fergus considered this for a moment before agreeing. "She is constantly in the presence of one of the other ladies, even at night," he conceded. "I can remove her bodyguard if it will make her more comfortable."

"Which rather neatly leads us into the next order of business," Cormac said smoothly, producing a collection of papers from his pile. "Inesa, Queen of Rivain, has agreed to the king's request to adopt Lady Maria as a ward of the Ferelden crown. She has sent the official documentation, including a signed affidavit from the Grand Cleric of Dairsmuid agreeing to the transfer of nationality."

"I do not see why that is a council matter," Eamon said in a dismissive tone. "Put the child in an orphanage and have done with it. She cannot be allowed to remain in close quarters with the king once he chooses his bride."

Alistair felt his jaw stiffen at the man's attitude. Has he not paid attention to any of the information we've been given about that little girl's life so far? Does he really think I would offer her sanctuary and then throw her away? He opened his mouth to respond ... but Anora was already speaking.

"I find it fascinating, Arl Eamon, that you are so ready to dismiss a child out of hand again," the blonde teryna commented in a deceptively mild tone. "One would have thought that your past experiences in such matters would have taught you to keep your opinions to yourself on this matter."

"I fail to see your point," was Eamon's cold answer, and Alistair found his gaze turning to Anora, surprised to see a glint of relish in her eyes.

"Let us revisit your past attempts, by all means," she replied, just as cold in tone as the arl sat beside her. "You were given charge of King Maric's second son; at the first test of your loyalty to the boy, you cast him away to the Templars and did not even appear to notice when they, in turn, gave him to the Grey Wardens. Indeed, you only became interested in him again when the fact of his existence offered you a path to power."

"How dare you -"

"And, of course, there is the way you have treated your own son," Anora continued, ignoring Eamon's spluttering indignation beside her. "Again, bowing to your wife's demands, you endangered Redcliffe and everyone living there by attempting to keep Connor's magic a secret, inadvertently placing yourself in mortal danger as well at a time of crisis for the country. As I understand it, you have not even spoken to your son since he was sent to the Circle, and do not allow many to speak his name in your presence. Did I forget anything?"

"Ooh, I know," Dem offered with a sweet smile. "He's just recommended that a little girl who has spent her life so far in a Chantry orphanage with no connection to anyone beyond a Reverend Mother with severe issues, by the sound of things, should be sent to another Chantry orphanage and forgotten by the one person who can make her life change for the better?"

"Ah, yes, of course." Anora inclined her head to the elven Warden. "Thank you. Well, Arl Eamon?" she added, turning to look at the man beside her once again. "Would you care to continue spouting nonsense designed to keep yourself in your position of influence, or would you rather shut your mouth and listen to what the king has decided?"

"I am merely attempting to point out that taking a child of foreign heritage and unknown parentage into the royal household is not a wise decision." Eamon cleared his throat, looking to Alistair. "We know nothing of this girl's background beyond what the Chantry has told us. She could be anything - if you take her into the royal family, she could be used as a weapon against us."

"Good points," Anora allowed, "but irrelevant. This is the king's decision, not yours, and by extending this offer, Alistair has clearly already made his choice."

"My advice is not irrelevant, my lady," Eamon began, but Alistair was already cutting him off.

"Enough, uncle," he said sharply. "Anora is absolutely right, my decision is already made. It was made as soon as I found out Maria has nothing waiting for her but abuse and loneliness. I maintain she will be a ward of the crown, she will have a place here in the royal household, and she will be treated as though she is a lady of the blood. I am not about to suddenly make her my heir - quite apart from anything else, that is the last thing I would wish on a little girl who just needs a family."

"You could place her with a family of good standing," Eamon pressed.

Alistair's expression turned stony. He had had enough of being talked over, of having his decisions questioned, of listening to Eamon drone on and on in the hope of wearing him down. Enough was enough.

"I am a family of good standing," he informed the older man. "The whole point of this ridiculous month - something you arranged and bartered for among the Landsmeet - is to provide Ferelden with a queen and me with a wife. Maria will have a mother and a father within a few months. She is staying with me, if she chooses to, and that is all I am going to say on the subject."

"What about Princess Felicita?" Dem asked, cutting over any further attempts by the arl to force his viewpoint on the gathering. "Word is she's offered the same sort of position in her own household to Maria."

"As I understand it, the Antivan ambassador was also sent word of Queen Inesa's decision," Cormac told her. "The princess is well-versed in the political landscape; it is likely she will understand the reasoning behind this choice."

Alistair hesitated, confused by the injection of information he hadn't yet been made aware of.

"I didn't know she'd ... Of course, Maria can make her own decision," he stuttered, pulling himself together with a frown. "What reasoning?"

Anora tilted her head. "Antivan politics is a dangerous game, Alistair," she explained, almost gently. "As much the princess may wish to offer the child safety at her side, as a princess of the Antivan blood royal, she cannot always assume that her side will be the safest place to be. Blood is a currency that is often paid in Antiva by the unwary and unwilling."

"Maria would be safer here," Shianni translated bluntly. "The princess probably already told her that."

Alistair's frown didn't immediately lift at this news, but it wasn't because of the obvious concern. Is that why Fabs was so cold with me just now? he wondered, thinking back on the strange interaction. Is she angry that Queen Inesa decided to give Maria to me and not her? But as soon as that thought trickled through his mind, another came to assuage the guilt. I can make it up to her. I'll just ... make sure she knows how welcome she is here. Can't propose, not yet, but I can make it clear I like her. Maria likes her. We could ... we could be a family. As a slow smile crossed his face, he heard Dem clear her throat, looking up to find his friend swiping her fingers across her mouth with a warning look in her eyes.

Realizing he was the center of attention for the entire table, Alistair echoed the motion, wiping the smile from his face as he nodded professionally.

"I trust that the princess will do as she sees fit," he said, hastily looking to Cormac for rescue. "Any further items?"

The secretary swallowed what looked like a smile of his own, lifting a piece of parchment weighed down by the heavy wax seal of the Inquisition.

"Inquisitor Lavellan is requesting permission to send an expedition into the Frostback Basin," he explained, drawing the slightly antagonistic silence toward himself. "It would appear they are in search of the truth behind the first Inquisitor's disappearance, and have funding from the University of Orlais."

As the details were shared and dissected, Alistair let the conversation slide past without much need to pay attention. In this, at least, he trusted this group to make the appropriate decision without his input. No, he was more concerned with Fabs and her apparent change toward him. Was she really so put out by having Maria's guardianship snatched away from her? And how could he put it right, he wondered. The time was fast approaching for him to make his decision, but without her consent, it would be pointless to declare it. So what should he do?

Whatever he decided, it would have to be something special. Something she couldn't misconstrue.

But how to do that, when he couldn't even get her name right?

#a rose by any name #king alistair theirin #politics #arl eamon #anora mac tir #fergus cousland #shianni tabris #demelza tabris #maria of rivain #princess fabs #i have no idea #a little bit of this is fluff #and a little bit is angst #but mostly #just a king doing what a king does

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