Love's Blush

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  In full view of everyone, the wispy Spymaster turned fully to Donato and whimpered, "Yes."

  "Do you deny these allegations?"

  Donato reached over and grabbed up Ghaleb's hands, ignoring the gasps of the audience at such a bold move as he fought for his life. The pain of Ghaleb bit into the ambassador more than the potential hangman's axe. Pinning both of them tight in his own he lifted the pair and breathed across the skin. That had a calming affect on Ghaleb, his trembling shoulders slowing to treacle.

  Facing the King, Donato spoke, "There is no reason for me to. You have witnesses to the crime, no doubt have ransacked my things and discovered all the letters exchanged between us over the years. But please, Sire, I swear to you on the hem of Andraste's gown that it was not done out of malfeasance or to curry favors for my home country."

  The crowd began to turn against the ambassador pleading for his soul, each muttering turning into a spit as they surveyed the man who dared to defame Andraste to protect himself. Alistair glared up at them and stomped his foot on the ground. "What did I say about shutting it?" he warned them.

  Most of the crowd quieted down, but one male voice sputtered out, "Well, actually, you didn't."

  Maker's sake, there was always one. Scooting forward, Alistair addressed Donato, "Why? Why would you risk treason and death if not to better your standing either in Antiva or here?"

  Donato smiled sadly with eyes shut tight. In a whisper that carried across every stone in the palace, he said, "Love."

  That set everyone off yet again, one half of the crowd swooning from the romance angle, the other all but willing to tie the noose themselves and offering the king a shiny new axe at a great deal. "If the gathered gentry cannot hold their tongues, they shall ALL be escorted out of here," Alistair ordered, no longer in the mood to play babysitter to grown adults. "Chains are also optional if it comes to it!"

  It wasn't much of a threat, he doubted they had more than at most fifty manacles across all of Denerim, but the idea of it shut people up. "You're right about a couple things, Baronet. We did go through your belongings to try and uncover any connections you may have had to the assassination attempt made during Prince Cailan's naming day." People gasped out of habit whenever assassins were mentioned. Alistair figured after the third attempt on his life the only reaction he'd get would be a mild confusion at it being brought up and a request that he move out of the way of the buffet.

  Donato turned up, his eyes watering. He had to know how easily they could plant evidence, anyone with a quill and some parchment could draft up an "I'm going to kill the King" note. Without drawing it out, Alistair broke the tension, "But we found nothing."

  The condemned man sagged down, his hands coming to his lips as he muttered prayers to the Maker but the crowd lost it. In their minds they already concocted a much better tale than reality and wanted someone to pay for a slight not even against them. Booing roused from the back while the bannorn hissed like snakes. He noticed the only one not making a noise was Cherie, her arms crossed as those Orlesian eyes stared through the ambassador. No doubt she was already making calculations for all the times the two of them ganged up on the King over the years.

  Speaking over the crowd he could barely command on a good day, Alistair turned to the Baronet. "The Antivan guild of whoever owns your ass has interceded and demands we release you into their custody immediately. With no connection nor proof of obvious harm to me or my children I am afraid I must abided with their wishes." That went over as well as he expected, the crowd stamping and snarling like caged beasts. They wanted a sacrificial lamb and were willing to take it anywhere they could, even if the only animal around was a bewildered parrot about to beat wing.

  "Baronet Donato Alfonse de Seleny you are banished from Ferelden and forbidden from ever setting foot upon its soil ever again," Alistair decreed. It wasn't any true punishment but he made it sound enough like a death sentence the crowd clapped in appreciation. Cade stepped forward and made a show of freeing the man of his manacles. Donato didn't even pause to massage his wrists before reaching over to wrap Ghaleb into his embrace. Snatching out quickly, Cade grabbed onto his arms trying to tug him away to his boat home.

  "Commander," Alistair shouted, causing Cade to pause but not release his grip, "leave him until I am finished with the sentencing."

  "Milord?" Cade questioned a moment, before sighing, "As you say." He glared at Alistair and then the ambassador before sliding back.

  "Ghaleb of House Videnza, step forward," Alistair ordered. The spymaster lifted his head and turned not to the King, but the man clinging tight to him.

  "It will be well, Dolcetar. I am here with you," Donato whispered to him. Due to the acoustics his heartfelt plea echoed to the awkward king trying to not blush.

  "Orange blossoms," Ghaleb whispered back, his forehead brushing against Donato's cheek.

  The ambassador smiled a moment, his eyes tearing up as he released his hold on Ghaleb, "Indeed." Slowly, the spymaster turned and stepped closer to Alistair.

  Ignoring protocol, Alistair stood up from his throne and crossed to the man with his hands strapped to a metal bar dangling limply off those bony shoulders. He stopped a few feet away, but tried to stare into Ghaleb's eye. "We searched your information, your tower to see if there was any connection to the assassins."

  "Nothing, not there. Not outside Ferelden either, within," he stuttered, struggling to get the words out.

  "Forget the crowd, if you can, Ghaleb. I've known you for years and respected you." At that the spymaster glanced up and he smiled so proud. That stung back at the King who knew the pain this trial would put the man under, who wished he could go back in time to tell Harding to abandon her search before it began. "My kids, they're my life, and I need you to tell me the truth right now, did you have anything to do with the assassins that threatened them?"

  Ghaleb blinked slowly, that brilliantly confusing brain processing the request and probably doing advanced maths at the same time. "No," he answered with the same sing-song voice that would ask for an egg without any yolks and then mash it all up into cut pieces of toast. Who'd sit across from Alistair during card nights and point out how people in Nevarra would place a skull on the table to tell when someone was cheating. That was perhaps the only man in Ferelden that didn't ever treat him like a king. To Ghaleb everyone had the same worth because they were people.

  Nodding, Alistair slid away from his friend and caught Beatrice's face. She had perfected the 'I'm listening without giving a fart about what you're saying' face for court, but now her lips hung flat and tears brimmed in her eyes. This wasn't easy for anyone. Returning to his throne, Alistair raised his voice to deliver the sentence he stayed up all night arguing with himself over.

  "Ghaleb, you have served valiantly these past seven years as Spymaster to the crown, and I would even call you my friend," he paused to glance down at the man. "However, I cannot overlook your egregious break in not just protocol but ethics as well." Alistair had practiced saying egregious in front of a mirror for ten minutes to make sure it didn't come out 'egg rageous.' "This breach requires a punishment."

  It wasn't Ghaleb who whimpered but the stalwart Donato. He reached his freed hands to grip Ghaleb's shoulder and the man cupped those fingers with his own manacled ones. Alistair gave them a moment to steel their spines before speaking. "Ghaleb, Spymaster to Ferelden, for consorting with another head of state without revealing that fact, you are henceforth with etcetera and so on stripped of your titles, any claims you have made on behalf of the crown, and..." Those crystal grey eyes tipped up and stared deep into Alistair's soul as he prepared for the end. "And are banished from Ferelden," he spat out, feeling tears prickling in his eyes but walking them back.

  Donato gasped, slapping a hand to his mouth as his knees began to buckle. The crowd erupted into no one was quite sure. Some were upset that no one was having their head chopped off, while those, in particular the ones towards the back, liked Ghaleb at least enough
to not want him lost. It was only the man of the hour who seemed unmoved by the King's words. Ghaleb twisted his head to the side like a lost bird and waited, but Alistair needed a minute for the crowd to die down and to find his voice.

  Turning to Donato, Ghaleb asked a question with his eyes and the ambassador whispered to him in antivan that he wasn't going to die. When understanding bloomed, Ghaleb moved to rush up and grab the King's hand, but Cade was quick to pin him in place. The Commander was fuming, as Alistair expected, but not about to disobey a King's order.

  He needed to wrap this up quickly and Alistair spoke above the crowd, "You will be boarded onto a ship immediately with a handful of your personal possessions. We shall retain any and all research or letters you have. I suggest you spend the walk to the harbor deciding on where the boat shall take you. I hear Antiva's not so bad, if you get used to crows everywhere." With that final joke the doom of the past week collapsed into a bright rainbow and Alistair's smile lifted wide over his cheeks. He felt like he could float as Ghaleb and Donato embraced fully, both of them whispering in shock to each other while tears of joy broke from both their exhausted eyes.

  "Milord," Cade interrupted the happy moment, "may I please escort our prisoners out of the throne room now?"

  "Yes, Commander. Take them to the antechamber until their things are gathered, then a squadron will see both to a ship bound for Antiva this afternoon," Alistair ordered. He'd had to cough up a fancy Rivani rug to keep the damn thing waiting for him.

  "As you command, your Highness," Cade groaned. He tried to tug the two apart, but they seemed to be tethered together now by an unbreakable bond, for the first time letting their relationship out into the open air. That had to be nice.

  It took awhile before Alistair could officially leave the throne room, a few of the Banns taking the opportunity of the King in King-mode to bring up their grievances. He didn't remember everything he promised, but the lack of sleep and giddiness filling his veins may have caused him to say every man and woman in Ferelden would get their own nug hat.

  After gathering up Reiss, Alistair shook off the rest of the gentry upon Eamon and made a b-line for the antechamber. It was foolish, but he wanted to say goodbye. When he walked through the door, Ghaleb was adjusting a pin on his turban while Donato ran a finger down a stack of shirts inside a wooden crate. Both glanced up at the door opening, no doubt expecting it to be their escort out.

  "Your Majesty," Donato was the first to speak, and he bowed so deeply his head was perpendicular with the floor. "There is no gratitude I can express for what you have done."

  "It's not," he tried to wave off the emotion and reached over to shake the man's hand instead. The disgraced ex-ambassador returned it, so full of gratefulness while he no doubt awaited a lot of probing questions from his guild and a questionable future. It felt wrong to be thanked for uprooting two people's lives, but Alistair smiled through it and he turned to shake Ghaleb's hand as well.

  The ex-Spymaster launched himself at the King and caught him in a full hug. "Well, ah," Alistair patted against Ghaleb's bony shoulder blades and tried to ignore the awkwardness rising in his gut.

  "I am sorry we shall be unable to finish our discussions on morality regarding the rise and fall of darkspawn," Ghaleb said as if that was the most important thing to worry about. He nearly lost his head and the fact the King didn't have anyone left to talk to was his concern. "And if a shark riding a dragon could win in a fight against a grizzly bear astride a giant."

  "That, uh," Alistair stepped away from Ghaleb knowing his cheeks turned bright red as he tried to not glance over at the pretty woman watching this. "That's not important."

  "Sire," Cade stopped chewing apart his jawbone long enough to speak up, "the cavalcade is here to escort them."

  "Got it," he had more he wanted to say, to give some all inspiring speech but nothing came out. Ghaleb picked up a bag far too small to give any man a new start on life, but he slipped an arm around Donato who was struggling with his crate. Two of the guards took pity and picked it up, or wanted to get down to the harbor quickly.

  "Wait, I did have one question," Alistair interrupted before the opportunity vanished forever. "What does orange blossom mean?"

  Ghaleb's normally stoic cheeks lit up red and he glanced down at the ground as if he hadn't just had his personal life ripped apart by every able bodied person in the castle. Sensing his lover's reluctance, Donato spoke, "It is our code of sorts. When we first kissed it was under an orange tree in blossom."

  "Awe," a voice spoke from the corner, but when Alistair traced it to his bodyguard she was looking over her shoulder to see who it must have come from and also trying to disguise a no doubt blush on her cheeks.

  There wasn't time for proper goodbyes, or any really. Donato and Ghaleb vanished from the castle in a flurry of swords. To anyone watching it looked as if the two were being marched to the gallows by the level of hardware on display, but judging by the smiles stretching upon both of the lovesick prisoner's faces it appeared they had an armed escort to a picnic. Cade growled at their exit and looked about to say something to the King before shaking his head and leaving.

  Alone aside from the bodyguard, Alistair sagged his ass against a small fountain, crumpling against the stone basin. He felt water splattering against his back but didn't care, in fact, it was rather cooling. "You were kind when you didn't have to be," Reiss said, skirting closer.

  "Was I? Ghaleb's scary smart but he doesn't have much in the form of people skills and Donato's going back with a scar across his reputation to the land of assassins and more assassins but with fancier boots. They'll have a huge climb uphill to make it." He'd obsessed with it forever. No punishment was out of the question. The fact remained that both lied to him, to the people, threatened the security of Ferelden. People would demand blood if Alistair didn't make a show of it. So he tried for the kindest cut he could.

  He felt a hand land upon his shoulder and lifted his exhausted head to stare up into Reiss' eyes. Peridot! That was the stone's name that glittered a sweeping grass green. Somehow hers were even brighter than a cut gemstone. "As long as there's a chance, it's amazing what people can manage."

  "I've seen some crazy pairings in my day. Ferrier with a butcher, stablehand with a dowager, mage with...with a templar, but a spymaster and an ambassador? People are going to be gossiping about this for years." He felt a pinch around his temples, and Alistair's hands wandered up to his head to bounce up that blighted crown. Yanking it off, he placed the damn thing beside him on the fountain and gently tugged his hair back into place.

  Reiss glanced out the door then turned back to him, "Love can make people do strange things. But what other ruling could you have made? It was the best decision given the circumstance and no one can argue with that."

  "Wanna bet?" Alistair asked. Staggering to his feet, he lifted his hand and said, "Three, two, one."

  "Sire!"

  "Your Majesty!"

  "I protest against your unfair treatment for this supposed spymaster. He is a traitor to the Ferelden people!"

  "Will you be honoring the concords enacted by the ambassador or have you destroyed everything the man worked for?"

  "Why wasn't there a hanging? We were promised a hanging?"

  As the multitude of his citizens all burst in to remind Alistair that in this game there was no pleasing anyone, ever, he glanced over to Reiss. She grimaced at the multitude and then mouthed to him, 'It was good.'

  Somehow, in that moment, it was enough for Alistair.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Dumplings

  "Here, let me look," the King reached across the table, his sleeve skirting through a boat of gravy to snatch up one of a dozen missives that arrived on the hour. Reiss tried to gesture to his mess, but he caught it and absently sucked on the stained sleeve while reading though yet another report from Harding. "She's only been acting Spymaster for two days, and I've already got enough reports from her to build a little fort," he
complained. "Was she this bad in the Inquisition?"

  "I cannot say, Ser," Reiss said. While the rest of the castle either breathed a sigh of relief at having the Ghaleb problem solved, or flounced off to stew about the King's decision, they were granted a nice reprieve from an ever pressing doom. Only Harding bit fully into her job, unearthing thousands of Ghaleb's old notes and often needing the King to translate some of it.

  "Oh, I know this one," he turned the paper upside down and then glanced up, "anyone got a quill?"

  "Yes, Sire, we regularly dine with ink bottle and feathers," someone called from the end of the table. It was hard to make out who as people kept flittering in and out, Reiss barely catching a face or voice.

  Unperturbed at the sarcasm, Alistair dipped his finger in a red jam and dotted it against the first letter in each paragraph. Proud of his work, he leaned back and smiled, "There, Harding should be able to get the rest." As he rolled up the jellied scroll, another plate of dumplings were deposited in front of the man. He didn't even blink as he turned to the woman and smiled, "Renata, these are perfect."

  "Aye, I'd hope so seein' as how you've eaten a horse full today," the cook snickered. She'd taken the time to toss off her apron and fluff her hair out of the cap, proud of the food that was fattening a King who never showed it.

  He flashed a cheese eating grin and stuffed one of the dumplings straight into his cheeks. Gnawing upon it like a squirrel ready for winter, he shrugged, "It's nice to have an appetite back."

  "Right you are, Sire," Renata smiled, her hand patting the King on the shoulder like an ornery but generally good natured boy. She limped back towards the kitchens no doubt to prep them for another dumpling run.

  Alistair returned to the work he'd let pile up while he stewed about Ghaleb. On occasion Eamon would pop in and gently try to steer the man towards other matters, but after his performance with the Spymaster problem it seemed everyone was happy to give their wayward King a little more leash. Which made him even more playful than before.