Love's Blush

by Sabrina Zbasnik

"He..." Reiss knew it wasn't her place to speak for the King, but she had to say something, "he'll be very happy to see you again."

  ***

  "Maker's sake, do you know what you did to me? Look at all this grey hair. Yards of it. I bet my beard's gone stark white now," he babbled while he kept his hands locked tight around the princess, both of them with tears in their eyes.

  " 'm sorry," she kept mumbling regardless of what he said.

  "You scared me so, so bad, Spuddy."

  Reiss found him in an antechamber sizing up some lesser nobles while Cade prodded through their things for answers. She barely had to speak before the King ran across the floor and scooped his daughter up in his arms. Guards and nobility watched on alike as the King tried to chastise his daughter while also praising anything in sight for bringing her back.

  "Where did you go?" he asked the princess before turning up to Reiss. "Where did you find her?"

  "She never left the throne room. I spotted an old servant's lift and suspected she may have snuck inside there," Reiss explained.

  A grateful smile turned up his lips and she felt one stirring across her own. "Andraste's blessing, you're good. You're very good. Spud, you should thank her for finding you so quickly."

  The princess' haunting eyes turned around and she glanced up at Reiss, who cupped a hand below her elbow and waved at the girl. "'fank you," she muttered, her eyes boring into the floor.

  "Where's that, uh," the King staggered to his feet and absently wiped a forearm along his eyes, "the basket of food?"

  "Here, Sire," a hand passed it over. It was almost as if they'd been leaving crackers and jam crumbs on the floor to try and lure out any princesses.

  "Daddy?" The girl's grubby hands tugged on his tunic as the King dug into the basket. He paused in his search and glanced down at her. "Am I in trouble?"

  "Immense," he admitted, breathing a sigh of relief.

  "Are you mad?" those stark green eyes sized up Reiss as if the blow about to come was all her fault. It only seemed fair in the three year old's mind.

  The King surprised her as he cupped the back of his daughter's head and tugged her tight to him for a hug. "No, I'm glad you're here and safe. Still shaking a bit from fear, but I'm not mad. I can't entirely blame you for finding a way to skip out. I wish I'd thought to try that servant's door."

  "Ah, it's at best two feet wide," Reiss said, terrified she may have to one day yank him free of it.

  He ran a hand down his impressive frame and then shrugged, "So you're saying there's a chance." His almost boyish charm brought a laugh out of Reiss before she became blisteringly aware of the eyes watching her. In particular, Commander Cade was watching with a razor focus. "Ooh," the King yanked the red candy out of the basket, "look at this, Spud!"

  All her internal torment vanished as the princess snatched up the treat. Her lips suckled it deep into her mouth, red goo dripping down the sides of her cheeks in absolute bliss.

  A sly smile twisted up the King's lips and he whispered to Reiss, "Renata?" Which earned him a nod. "She must like you. Spud, don't stick it in your hair!" The princess shoved the candy back in her mouth, but through the sugary pacifier her eyes darted up to the new bodyguard. She seemed to be waiting for her confession to land as much as Reiss was regretting that she had to bring it up.

  To stall for time, Reiss pointed at the basket, "There's also some cheese the cook suggested..."

  The King yanked up two of the stars and popped both into his mouth quickly. Swallowing fast, he sighed, "Spud hates cheese."

  "So the stars were for..." Reiss buried her realization instantly and smiled, "I see."

  Sighing, the King took in the little girl who managed to streak her dress in a red, sugary glaze in record time. "Has anyone seen, Marn?"

  "I have, Sire," a servant popped up, the man as ruggedly handsome as an elf ever got.

  "Good, take this walking lolly to her for a bath," he picked up her daughter's fingers with as light a touch as he could manage and passed her off.

  "Don't want to go!" Spud suddenly erupted, her fingers reaching out to him.

  "You're not off the hook, young lady," he spoke certainly, but without the heat from the slap. "You will do as Marn says, head to bed, and then...I'll talk to you about your punishment later."

  "'Kay," she shuffled her feet back and forth, accepting the elf's grip. "What about the book? You must read it!"

  The King's unbendable stance shattered and he picked up his daughter's black curls, "Don't we always? After your bath I'll be up, I promise."

  She didn't make it easy on the elf, but the princess fell into his tug, both of them vanishing to find the nanny. Even then, the King kept a locked focus on his daughter. He seemed to want her to go as much as she did. "Maker's sake, I swear that kid's gonna kill me. Boom, keel right over, not even give the darkspawn a chance," he whispered the last bit to himself, but Reiss overheard it. Seeming to see her, he grabbed her armored hand and pumped it freely, "Thank you again for tracking the wily toddler down and dragging her back. I'm certain she didn't make it easy. She's got the will of an avvar warrior."

  "It's not a problem, your Highness," she said, trying to tap down a blush at the attention. Slowly, he yanked his hand off hers, revealing a red stain in its wake. The King winced at that, but she barely batted an eye. "Um," Reiss sidled a bit closer, her eyes watching the nobles. "Could we speak in private?"

  "Right," he nodded, "Cade, you've got this?"

  "As always, Milord," Cade groaned, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience, but..."

  They wound up returning to the throne room that was only filling with a handful of servants who thought they were free to try and clean up the mess. The King paced near his throne, trying to spot the hidden door his daughter snuck into. "Was that it?"

  "Yes, Ser."

  He whistled at that, "Maker, she's tinier than I thought. Right, you wanted to say something. I hope you're not quitting already."

  "No, no, though this has been a memorable first day."

  "At least the baby didn't vomit on you...and now that I said that it's probably going to happen," he groaned, his head dropping down.

  Reiss chuckled, "That I am used to, but what I wanted to say does concern your daughter." He focused his full attention upon her, which caused Reiss' mouth to dry out. While the King's vision tended to hop from one shiny bauble to another, when it honed in on something it was as if the rest of the world fell away for him. "When I found her she was distraught."

  "Of course she was, she's two and knew she was in trouble."

  "I understand, but she made mention of her brother and, um," Reiss swallowed, aware she was wading into dangerous waters, "how he made her mother sick."

  A groan reverberated in the King's throat but he didn't thunder how that was none of her concern or try to toss her from the palace. Instead, he buried his head in his hands and tugged on his hair, "She noticed? Of course she did. It worries me how smart she is already. In another year, she'll be outthinking her father and then what do I do?"

  "Kids tend to notice things, change in particular is..." Reiss paused, blanketing down her emotion, "hard on them."

  "And with Marn working nursemaid duty, she was never supposed to be official nanny but Spud's particular and..." the King shook off his own internal torment to return to Reiss, "You sure you don't have any children?"

  "I think I'd know," she chuckled, before paling at who she talked down to. "I helped to raise my siblings."

  "Right, of course, that's what people do with siblings, I think," the King picked at his elbow awkwardly before nodding at Reiss. "Thank you for telling me. It'd take me days to get it out of Spud, if even then. Not that I can blame her, I'm tempted to crawl under my bed for a few weeks. Maker, why can't the world stay normal for one damn year? Is that too much to ask?"

  "Sometimes I fear what else can be waiting on the horizon," Reiss admitted.

  "It's one hell of an age to live through," A
listair groaned, shaking his head back and forth. "I'm gonna go check on my kids. Ah, feel free to take the rest of the night to yourself. I think there was something about Cade wanting you to meet the other guards or, oh right, your old guardhouse. They probably need to be informed and your things shipped here or somewhere."

  Reiss patted him on the shoulder, her fingers flexing into the knotted muscle below. "It's all right, Ser. I shall handle it."

  His fingers glanced over top of her gloves and he smiled. "Thank the Maker one of us can."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Memory

  After he gave a gentle talking down to Spud, who was very penitent and used every trick in her book to try and convince him she didn't need punishing, Alistair got a professional tongue lashing from Marn. While he could have stomped away, or maybe sent her to the stocks for awhile, he felt like he deserved it. He knew he'd overreacted when Spud pulled her vanishing act, that it played right into something something... Marn's words washed over him while Alistair kept glancing over at his daughter curled up in bed with her stuffed frog. That tiny hand clutched tight to its webbed foot, her wide eyes shut tight as she traipsed through the fade.

  "Look," Alistair interrupted Marn, who reeled back in her words but glared for having to do it, "I get it. Okay. If I was the perfect father of the year, I'd have done things better. If I wasn't sitting on a teetering edge constantly afraid all the damn time that some fat arse off in Antiva or Tevinter gets it in his head to off my kids to make a point, maybe I wouldn't have overreacted. Welp, sorry, this is the king you're stuck with full of all that gooey feeling stuff they're supposed to scrape out of you in war. Somehow I missed that part."

  He expected Marn to renew her attack with more vitriol, but instead she sighed and shook her head. "A'right. Fair enough. And I don't think we'll have a spoiled brat on our hands for one over reaction followed by her father lavishing her with attention for a night."

  "Thank the Maker for small miracles," Alistair scoffed.

  "But make a habit of it and you will be facing a tyrant in short pants," Marn threatened.

  "Tell me again why I don't have you out there chasing down these assassins? I think you'd put most hunting mabari to shame."

  She snorted and folded her arms up tight across her chest. "You ain't the first man in thedas' history to fear for his children."

  "I am well aware, but...it feels like it," Alistair admitted. He flexed his bruised knuckles that he'd only soothed the pain partially away with a balm. To think, in his younger years he wouldn't have even noticed the pain unless the skin broke, or a bone. And his need to work out the emotion last night was nothing, just a small sparring practice. Maker's sake, he did far more damage to his knuckles when they met that templar's jaw. By the void, what were they feeding them in Skyhold, actual bars of iron?

  Marn plucked up her own child into her arms, and with the love of a mother bear carting her young out of the stream, she plopped him into the shared bed with Spud. His daughter only began sharing it with the boy a few months back, and at first it was the true end times upon abandoning the crib, but she seemed to grow more used to it. Routine. That's what she needed.

  "How's the Queen doing?" Alistair asked.

  "Why?" Marn shot back. After prudently tucking her boy in, she took a moment to kiss his forehead and he snuggled in to sleep.

  "Because I wanted to talk to her about Spud and other things. Is that so bad?"

  Marn folded a moment, her head tipped down, "She's sitting by the fire with Cailan."

  Alistair tried to not shudder at the idea of his dead brother haunting through the castle sitting by fires and whispering to people. It felt like the first few years he took the stupid crown, so many of those velvet portraits were hung up in every damn room of the palace. Sometimes Alistair would turn around and he could swear a portrait would appear on a wall that'd been empty a moment earlier. Nodding thanks at Marn, he slipped into the Queen's chambers. The two personal handmaidens were asleep, or feigning it, upon the daybed thing. He wasn't certain what it was called when it wasn't quite couch and wasn't bed either.

  The lone rocking chair creaked back and forth before the hearth. Funny enough, it was a gift from the Dalish. Carved from ironbark it was a mother's rocking chair that could double as a shield should the need arise. Bea's hair, that was always pinned up in fancy dos, cascaded down her shoulders as she hummed a song softly to her son sleeping in her arms.

  "Hello," Alistair began, feeling like a stranger walking into someone else's home.

  She turned her head to the side, the flames highlighting her face that finally bore a bit of color. "Good evening, my King," Bea whispered.

  With that opening, he stepped closer and took a knee beside the chair. Even with business hanging in the air, Alistair couldn't stop from peering down at the little face framed by blankets. He dipped a finger down the baby's cheek, and froze when the tiny mouth opened in a yawn. But Cailan wasn't in the mood for more screaming, as he settled back to sleep.

  "Someone's had quite the day," Beatrice cooed to her boy.

  "How's his, uh..." He couldn't bring himself to admit that he let their daughter slap the baby on his watch.

  "It is fine, barely pink now, probably not even going to bruise." She turned over to look at him and in a voice one used when talking to particularly stupid dogs said, "These things occur between siblings."

  "So everyone keeps telling me," Alistair admitted. "That's what I wanted to come talk to you about. I heard...Spud misses you. She knows something's wrong and I think that's why she's acting out."

  Bea's head hung down heavy from the crown of motherhood, "I miss her too."

  "I was thinking, maybe tomorrow, if you're up for it, we could all gather in the garden. You could sit on the bench with ol' stoic here," he gestured at the baby, "while I roll around in the grass with Spud. And, Cordell can come too, to take over when needed so your daughter could sit in your lap. All five of us for a day of garden fun." It sounded idiotic he knew, but it was the only answer Alistair could come up with.

  "That sounds delightful," Beatrice smiled at him, "but you're forgetting the day." He lifted a shoulder in confusion. "Tomorrow is the fifteenth." Alistair parted both hands. Fifteens tended to come after fourteens, that wasn't any big reason to cancel garden plans. Bea dropped her head and she whispered, "The fifteenth of Cloudreach."

  Andraste's grace, how could he forget?

  "Cade's informed me that the usual parade has been cancelled due to the attacks, but people will expect you to appear at the memorial," Beatrice explained while Alistair kept mentally kicking himself.

  How could he blighted forget that date? There were only four he kept tattooed in his memory; the end of the Blight, the fall of Ostagaar, his ignominious entrance into the world, and that one. Might as well forget your birthday next time too. Wander into Isolde's party shirtless and covered in mud asking what everyone's doing standing around in their best outfits.

  "And," she shifted around her arms to slide the baby into his. Without thought Alistair accepted his son but his mind was on the other side of Ferelden. Rubbing her sore arms, Beatrice smiled at him, "I rather suspect you would not wish to miss it."

  "No, I...everything's been so blighted crazy lately, I forgot what day it was."

  "I understand," Beatrice traced her own manicured fingers across the boy's chubby cheek, "and I imagine she would have as well."

  Alistair sighed, "Probably. Depended on what mood she was in." One of Cailan's fists tumbled out of the blankets and Alistair curled it up with his pinkie. He was fascinated by the teeny tiny nails on the ends of each adorable digit. Who would have ever thought he'd become so entwined around two chubby fingers? Spud could make him leap with a look, and he suspected this one would be giving him heart attacks once he figured out rolling over. Maker, the first time Spud did it, she nearly rolled right into the stuffed teeth of a bearskin rug. That was the fastest Alistair had ever moved in his life, including at a broodmo
ther and away from dragon fire.

  "I really want to get this right," he whispered to the baby.

  "Right isn't a thing in parenting," Beatrice said. "All there is is trying your best." She was a few years younger than him physically, but she acted like she was fifty the moment they met. Considering how often she tried to patiently mother him, Alistair was grateful to feel no attraction to her because that would just raise all kinds of confusing questions.

  He snickered at the idea of trying his best, knowing just what kind of a mess his best tended to cause. Bending over to his son, he placed his lips close to his forehead and whispered, "Sorry."

  ***

  If the King rose in the middle of the night to attack his dummy either Reiss didn't hear it, or, more likely, he found other ways to work off the tension of the day. On the plus side, no bountiful mages slipped out of his room in the morning. She was waiting with gritted teeth for that day, but for now it was simply the two of them. The King waved away the clerk he dubbed 'itinerary guy,' snatched up his daughter from her room, and had breakfast while their two bodyguards stood watch.

  Reiss spent some of her free time after the princess incident speaking with Commander Cade, who introduced her to Brunt - a man of few words and all muscle. He'd been receiving a dressing down for losing the princess when Reiss stumbled across the guardhouse, then he had to stand and listen to her praise for finding the girl. It was so awkward, she began to suspect that the Commander was trying to punish them both as if to say they needed to remain in their lanes and any deviation, even if it was a gain, would be frowned upon greatly.

  After breakfast, and the King taking the time to scoop half of the princess' dropped food off the floor, he sat her in a special chair and brushed her hair. The princess kept giving him tips for the entire attempt, passing over silver combs and boar's hair brushes which the King pretended to run over her locks before slipping them back in a drawer. Brunt was ordered to sit in the tiniest pinkest chair and watch. While Alistair attempted to dissuade the girl, her bodyguard huffed, and balancing his weight all on his feet, hovered his mighty frame right above the chair. It was the kind of humiliation that would do in the most hardened veteran, but Brunt bore it with aplomb. After the King added a fifth bow to the pin straight locks, the nursemaid appeared and swept her away.