Trouble & Strife: Chapter Thirty One

[scarylady]

Much love to bellaknoti the Comma Fairy Extraordinaire for correcting my punctuation.

Link to the beginning, for anyone joining us for the first time: www.fanfiction.net/s/6144534/1/Trouble_Strife

Title: Trouble & Strife: Chapter Thirty One
Characters: today we have Alistair, his wife, Anders, Leliana, Zevran, and a chorus of Dalish
Rating: T
Summary: The Blight ended over a year ago, Melissa Cousland is entombed at Weisshaupt, and King Alistair is now married.
In this chapter: The Vhenalas'Mamae pleases the Dalish, Anders has a dilemma, and Alistair puts his foot in his mouth.

 

 

-oOo-

 

“Now, remember what I told you about controlling the flow of power, let it pool around you, but not too fast.”

Maddy nodded faintly at Anders’ advice, only a small amount of her attention focussed in the real world. The rest was drawing power from the Fade, imagining herself as a tube, a funnel through which the power could move, rather than a fist in which a set amount of power could be grasped.

“That’s it, lethallan, let the Vhen’alas aid you; it is not necessary to do all the work yourself.”

The Keeper was right; she could feel the trees drawing what they needed from the pool at her feet. All over the grove they relaxed in relief of pain, stretched to the sun, dug down with stronger roots. Bark smoothed out, free from cankers and fresh green flushed overhead replacing the dead brown. All she had to do was keep the power flowing at a steady rate until they were finished.

Eventually she relaxed her hold on the Fade and came back to the real world. Came back to a healthy grove; the contented murmur of the trees and the land a background noise in her head. Their pain and misery was all gone.

Maddy staggered, drained for the moment, and Alistair caught her. “Are you alright, love? Anders, check on her, please. I won’t have her doing this if it hurts her.”

Keeper Passana drew in a deep breath, her expression awed. “Ma serannas, Madeleina. I cannot express our thanks. The disease would have decimated this entire section of the forest.”

“She’s fine Alistair, no physical problems at all, but she couldn’t help so much as a tiny seedling right now. I imagine it’ll replenish over time, just as a mage’s energy would.”

“I’m taking her back to camp to rest.”

“One moment, please.” The elderly Keeper, Gallian, seemed to be struggling with some emotion. “Abelas, Madeleina. My apologies.” His bow was stiff, but respectful. “It seems you truly are a Vhen’alas’Mamae, and I thank you for what you have done today.”

The smile Maddy gave him was weary, but sunny. “You’re welcome, Keeper, but, in truth, I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the trees; they were in dreadful pain.” She turned her smile on her husband. “Alistair, would you consider me a terrible baby if I asked you to carry me back? Not that I can’t walk, you understand, but…” It was difficult for her to explain; after the warmth and affection the trees afforded her in the Fade, the real world felt cold and indifferent. She needed to feel cared for, but couldn’t think of a way to explain it without sounding horribly needy. In the end she settled for: “I need to be close to you, as close as possible.” Ouch, that probably sounded exactly how she hadn’t wanted it to.

She was immediately swung up into strong arms, her head resting against leather and suede. “Your desire is my command, my dear,” Alistair murmured, against her hair. Thankfully, it appeared he didn’t mind if she was a little needy.

She sighed, contented and clung to him like a child. “Thank you, mon mari. Tell me if you get tired, and I’ll walk the rest of the way.” It seemed unlikely that he would; her husband was the strongest person she had ever met. He was her rock and her shield.

 

-oOo-

 

The strains of Leliana’s harp floated across the camp, supporting the voices of Dalish, singing a complicated round. Since the bound Templars had been dragged into camp three days ago, a fragile peace had settled over the encampment, with Dalish and humans mingling to train, to hunt and to socialise more freely than anyone would have thought possible. Tonight would be the last they spent together; tomorrow, the King and his travelling court would move on: up to South Reach and from there to Lothering. Those Keepers who were here could not speak for the rest of the clans, but they had promised to spread word of this meeting and of the possibility of better relations with the shemlen under this King Alistair. A King who was a Grey Warden, and whose Queen was confirmed to be a Vhen’alas’Mamae would garner more respect than any other possibly could.

While the Chantry held power in Ferelden, the relationship between the Dalish and their human neighbours couldn’t truly be cordial; it was the Chantry who had hunted them and destroyed their second homeland. This could never be forgotten, but a change from frigid neutrality to cautious friendliness was still a valuable alteration, if it could be brought about. Trade would improve and, once profit was involved, then Alistair had grounds for a proposal to make the forest a protected territory, a safer home for their elven allies. It was a tenuous and fragile start, but any improvement was better than none.

When the song ended, Leliana threaded her way through camp to where Anders sprawled on the ground by the fire. Her friend had been brooding all day, or at least brooding as much as his inherently cheerful nature allowed, and she was determined to find out why, and to help if she could. To this end, she sat on the log he was using as a headrest and announced her intention of brushing his hair. As Leliana was known to consider anyone with long hair to be fair game for this favourite pastime of hers, Anders made no complaint, merely raising his supine body a little higher to provide her with freer access.

Only once his blond hair had been freed from the confining band, and the soft scrape of the brush over his scalp soothed him, did she raise the subject of his mood. “Has something been bothering you? You’ve been quiet all day.”

He chuckled quietly. “And here I was, thinking that you’d all find that a merciful relief. I thought I was a pestiferous chatterbox, who no-one even recognised if my mouth was shut?”

Her merry laugh rang out. “Who told you that?”

“Oh, Nathaniel, of course.” Her hands stilled momentarily before continuing. He shifted a little higher, so she could drag the brush up the nape of his neck, combing the hair there through her fingers. “I never thought I’d miss the gloomy old stick, but I do. The Wardens are the nearest thing I’ve ever had to a family.”

“Is that what’s bothering you? Are you homesick for the Keep?”

“No-o, not really. Politics is fun, and the whole thing with… you know… trees, is really interesting and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see something totally new. I’m having a great time, although I do miss being able to blow things up freely. It’s not that; in fact, it’s not really about me at all.” Leliana put down the brush and slipped her hands into his hair, massaging the scalp. She felt his shoulders drop as tension began to release. “Mmm, that’s fantastic. What was I saying? Oh… family. The thing is; Keeper Lanaya spoke to me earlier, about Athras. She says he lost his wife a couple of years back and hasn’t been the same since.”

Leliana nodded, digging her thumbs into the nape, finding tense lumps to massage. “I remember. It was terrible for him; he lost her to the werewolf curse.”

Anders dropped his head forward to accommodate her. “Really? I guess that might make more sense then. Because Lanaya says that he’s been more alive these last few days, hunting and scouting with us, than he’s been in forever. Since his wife died, in fact.”

“Is she asking us to take him with us? I’m not sure he’d find the rest of this tour to his taste, even if Alistair agreed. We’ll be in castles a lot; you saw what it was like at Gwaren, feasting and dancing and other noble entertainments.”

“Nono, that’s not it at all, although castles are part of the problem. She’s asked me if he’d make a good Warden.”

Leliana finished the scalp massage and picked up her brush again. “I think he’d make an excellent Warden. He’s brave, and determined, and a very good archer.”

“But will he hate it? Living at Vigil’s Keep, stuck behind stone walls, separated from his family. Y’know, very few Wardens have any family to speak of, most of us come from messed-up backgrounds. I really don’t think I’ve ever even seen an extended family like this one before.” There was a wistful note in the mage’s voice that made the bard want to hug her friend tightly.

“Perhaps that’s the problem though, did you think of that? Maybe in the bosom of such a close family, the hole where his wife used to be is there forever, so that he can’t move on.”

Anders turned around, his hair slipping from her brush and her fingers, his forearms now resting on her knees. The pale brown eyes looking up at her, usually so merry, were tinged with anxiety. “Do you really think so? Because I really, really couldn’t do to an adult what is done to us mages as children. Taking someone from their family… I just couldn’t.”

Leliana pushed the unruly hair back, her thumb rubbing at the crease between his brows. “I believe you are over-thinking this, Anders. No-one has asked you to conscript him, have they? Why don’t you ask him if he would like to be a Warden? Explain how he would live.”

His brow cleared. Anders scrambled to his feet, taking the bard’s face between his hands and planting an enthusiastic kiss on her forehead. “You, dear lady, are an angel. You’re right; what was I thinking? I’ll go speak to him now.”

-oOo-

 

The Dalish camp evoked memories of the one he had run away to as a boy. It had been a pleasant place to visit, and a boring place to live. Interesting though this visit had been, Zevran would be glad to leave in the morning.

“I need a word with you.”

The appearance of a glowering King always brightened up a dull evening. Zev allowed his eyes to roam over his former comrade, aiming for maximum insolence. “Of course, my friend. You are always such delightful company.”

The glower increased significantly. “You can pack that in, for a start. In private, please.”

“As you wish, mio re.”

Once they were alone in the Royal Pavilion, Zevran watched Alistair fling his gloves on the table, and run his fingers through his short hair. As hospitality appeared to be lacking, the assassin took a chair unasked, and provocatively stuck his heels on the table. “So, what is it that causes you to fire commands at me this evening?”

Alistair turned to him, hazel eyes hard and suspicious and his jaw set tight. “I want to know what, in all the deepest depths of the Fade, you think you’re doing.”

“A sweeping statement, amico mio; I am doing all kinds of things. Perhaps you could be a shade more specific?”

“For days now you’ve been following Maddy around. Even when you aren’t with her, I can see your eyes on her. What I want to know is what the hell you want with my wife?”

There was a tiny pause in which Zevran stared dumbstruck at the enraged King. Then his eyes hooded, hiding all emotion. “She is, of course, a very charming young lady.” This enigmatic statement was delivered in a purr that Alistair couldn’t fail to find provocative. The icy rage in the assassin’s gut demanded that it be so.

Alistair’s hand slammed down on the table. “You are not doing this to me again, Zev,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

The cold, hard fury spread; it took significant effort for the assassin to keep his face calm. “You will have to excuse my ignorance, Maestà. What exactly have I done?”

“Spent your time slinking around my woman like an amoral alleycat. As though the world isn’t filled with others who’d be happy enough to receive your attentions. Do you really think I didn’t see you oiling your way around Melissa? What is it about my women, the only two I’ve ever cared for, that holds such special attraction for you, Zevran?”

Zev forced himself to stretch languorously, seemingly unconcerned. He would die before he allowed this petulant ragazzo to see his anger. “Ah, yes, well of course, Mel was very fond of oil.”

He’d expected Alistair to hit out, and had been ready to catch his punch, but it never came. When he finished stretching, and looked lazily at his antagonist, he found him still glowering, but with an unfathomable sadness in his eyes.

“I know she took you as a lover, Zev. As I’d relegated her to the status of a mistress, I could hardly protest, could I?” This was said much more quietly than anything previously. But before the assassin could respond, the glint and the determined look returned. “But Maddy is different, and I won’t allow you to harass her.”

“Your idea of harassment is quite different from mine, it seems.”

“You will stay away from her.”

Zevran shook his head. “I’m sorry Alistair, I cannot do that.”

“If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

Enough. Zev exploded out of his seat, landing about two inches from the infuriated King. “I find your opinion of your wife, your pregnant wife… Oh yes, do not look so shocked, do you think there is anything said in this camp that I do not hear? Your opinion of your wife is very interesting, Alistair. You think she would cheat you? You think she would slide out of your bed and into mine? Tch. Melissa was a free spirit, you could not hold her and neither could I, and you were a fool if you thought otherwise. But you are right, your Madeleina is different; she will cleave to you all of your life, which is far more than you deserve.”

Annoyed with himself for his outburst, Zevran turned on his heel to leave; but first, there was one more thing to be said. “Once, you let a woman die for your pernickety principles. If you do so again, I promise that, this time, your life will end at my hands. The Chantry shall not have her. I have sworn it.”

Alistair hadn’t moved a muscle since Zevran’s loss of temper. “Well, we’re in agreement on one thing, at least. But why, Zev? Why Maddy?”

The Antivan gritted his teeth; he really didn’t need that question shoved up his nose right now. “You are presumptuous, Alistair. I did not swear an oath to Madeleina.” He left quickly, before any more difficult, unwanted questions could be asked, disappearing into the shadows the instant he left the tent.

 

-oOo-

 

Once the Antivan had left, Alistair slumped into a seat feeling like an idiot. Your opinion of your wife… Maker, he’d never thought for a second that Maddy would… that she’d… he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. The sight of Zevran at her side, or watching her as she moved around camp… it had triggered a fury that really had nothing at all to do with Maddy, and everything to do with Melissa.

He’d never been sure, really sure that Mel had been faithful to him. The damned assassin had always been there, sharing too many smiles, too much flirting. Then, after the Landsmeet, after that horrible conversation, which had pulled Alistair’s heart to pieces, while Mel just seemed to shrug it off… Well, after that she made no secret of sleeping with the elf, and he’d never dared mention it. After all, when you’ve told a woman that you have to find and marry someone else, and that the best you can offer her is to be the bit on the side, it doesn’t leave you with many rights.

Alistair rubbed his eyes, they felt hot and gritty. The main problem was, he was worried about Maddy. Ever since Anders had told her that she had magic, Maddy had changed. She was still sweet and caring, and he adored her more every day; but the vivacious girl who had cut him a rosebud in the Imperial gardens, who had slapped a mercenary in a tavern in Val Royeaux, was gone. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. Her vivacity had been quenched by the crushing fear of the Chantry, of being made Tranquil. Maddy was frightened and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, and now that she was pregnant she was more afraid than ever.

She’s carrying the heirs to the throne; they wouldn’t dare take her now.

Unfortunately, her maternal instinct wasn’t listening to reason, and he couldn’t do anything to ease her fears. The Chantry was too big, too powerful, to just destroy overnight. Not that he wanted it destroyed, that way madness and lightning bolts lay, but he definitely wanted them controlled. He wanted to ensure that they couldn’t behave this way, not now, not ever. That meant politics, and those wheels turned slowly, too slowly to soothe Maddy’s hidden terror.

“Mon mari, what’s wrong?” He hadn’t heard her enter the tent and now she stood watching him, green eyes full of concern.

Alistair smiled at her, holding out his arms, “Nothing, my love. I’ve just been talking to Zev, and you know how annoying he can be. It’s nothing.”

Maddy accepted a cuddle, perched on his knee, kissed his forehead. “I don’t know about annoying, but he scares me a little. I don’t understand why Philippe is so interested in him.”

Alistair went utterly still, and his question came out small and tight. “Philippe?”

“I know, I can’t make sense of it, either. Philippe has always been so fastidious.” She hugged him tight and planted another kiss on his forehead, not noticing his reaction. “All I can get out of my brother on the subject is that Zevran has hidden depths.”

I’m an idiot.

And I owe that bloody irritating Antivan assassin an apology.

Arse.

 

-oOo-