My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "There's some money to be made in that, but you've got to get in good with a printing press," Lunet said sagely before catching Reiss' shocked eye. "What? I didn't do it. I was with this gorgeous redhead who pretended she was damn near anything in thedas for years. Half of the men in Orlais kept her in jewelry in furs."

  "Men? But she was with you?"

  Lunet shrugged, "We're all players of the game on the great stage of life. More boring in bed than you'd expect too for all the fantasy playing."

  Shaking her head, Reiss spun around searching to see if the barkeep was going to give an elf the time of day. Lunet caught her and raised an eyebrow. "If I'm going to have to hear about your sex life, I need to be at least buzzed."

  "Afraid your cheeks'll burst into flames?" Lunet laughed, banging her palm against the table. It drew the attention of a few humans shuffling down the street but she ignored it. Reiss trailed them a moment, marking their general appearance and height, before sighing at her friend. "Don't worry your serious little head, I'll be keeping it all to myself."

  "Maker's breath," Reiss reached over to run a hand against Lunet's forehead getting a slow glare from those doe eyes. "Are you ill? I can't feel a fever but..."

  "Ha, ha, ha, oh you're so delightfully on point today, Madam Rattus," she sighed while rolling her eyes before sliding back in her chair. A pair of fairly well-to-do ladies strolled by, parasols tipped over their shoulders in deference to the spring's sun. Reiss caught the eye of one with a sneer across her face as she all but spat in the direction of them.

  Over the din of Denerim, both elves could hear her, "They'll let just about anyone wander the streets nowadays." Her friend responded, no doubt in agreement, but kept it quieter. She seemed terrified that the two elven women sitting at the table were about to turn feral and disembowel her. Please, it wasn't even First Day. One has to save their savage sacrifices for solstices otherwise what's the point?

  Lunet ignored them as she rotated her book around on the table. "I'll have you know my little romance has been well stitched together," she winked at that weird metaphor and Reiss scrunched up her face. That was code, but she had no idea what it meant. She expected Lunet to elaborate but for once her lips seemed to be sealed. "What about you?"

  "Andraste's flaming sword, we saw each other three days ago. You really think I'd fall madly in love in 72 hours?"

  "Isn't that how all the great stories go, girl meets boy, barely exchanges a word and they're both struck in the heart by the Maker's lovecurse." A dangerous smile lifted up Lunet's lips, "Ah, but you have access to an entire new level of potential conquests now. Such as...?"

  "I have no interest in the King!" Reiss spat out quickly. She thought that would shut her friend up, and at first Lunet blinked in shock. Then that sly dragon look twisted her friend's face.

  "I wasn't going to say anything about his Majesty, but now that you have..."

  "Oh for the love of..." Reiss folded her face into her hands and wished she could tunnel down into the deeproads. "You did that on purpose."

  "On the contrary, I was going to mention a few of the elves that work in the wings of the palace. You went and introduced our great and glorious lord into this discussion." Lunet situated herself in her chair, drawing her face closer to Reiss who refused to break from her fingers. "So...how do you find dear King Alistair?"

  "As my boss," Reiss interrupted, "and King, and human, and I am not going into this with you!"

  Her friend steepled her fingers like a megalomaniac about to release a pack of poison spitting wyverns upon her enemies. Reiss steeled herself for the worst when Lunet cracked a laugh and slapped her in the arm, "I'm just tugging on your leg. For the Maker's sake, he's a blighted King."

  "Right," Reiss smiled uncertainly, bobbing her head to try and follow along with her friend's change in demeanor. "And word is he only has an interest in mages."

  "Yeah, I think I heard that before. No woodland fever for you to have to shut down at least," the beautiful elf nodded sagely to the plain one. While there were always assholes in the world, Reiss managed to skip out on some of the terrible tales other elves would tell. Judging by Lunet's piercing gaze at any shem, Reiss suspected she had her fair share of horror stories.

  Smiling at her, Lunet leaned back in her chair, "And it ain't like you've seen his shoulders or anything."

  "Um..." Reiss' mouth answered before her brain ordered her to shut it.

  Lunet slammed forward, "What um? Nugcakes, do not tell me--"

  "So, what's that book you were reading?" Reiss interrupted her. "Good? I've been trying to find one to recommend to my sister, we always try to read the same one at the same time to have something to share across the miles." It took a moment, but slowly Lunet's eyes shifted down to the book Reiss kept jabbing a finger at.

  "Aye, it's all right," she scooted it over to Reiss to inspect. "It's one o' them romatical historicals. Set during one of the early Inquisitions because blighted everyone's writing about the Inquisition now. I miss the old pirate serials."

  "What's it about?" she'd only intended to distract Lunet, but her curiosity was caught. Those who served in the Inquisition often found themselves wondering about the ones of old and ran into a lot of chantry folk who didn't want to speak of it.

  "Well, see, it's about this General of the Inquisition army. He's the hero, and while he's out hunting dangerous apostates...though I guess they weren't called that then. Anyway, he meets a girl, falls for her and..."

  "She's an apostate."

  "Bingo," Lunet thumbed her nose, leaving a grease print behind. "This is before he becomes a big General, told in flashback, so they meet up later to hunt demons together and rekindle that juicy romance. But there's some enemy attack, girl sacrifices herself for boy. He's heartbroken, blah blah blah, mercifully short funeral scene with no songs."

  "And the book ends?" Reiss asked flipping the cover over in her hands. The book felt thick enough to smash a few rats with.

  "You'd think so, but this is the third part where it turns out the girl was also involved with some long lost Duke out of the Free Marches back when it was under Imperium control. Anyway, turns out she's only mostly dead and this Duke knows where they have to go to rescue her. He makes the General team up with him to find her. Some pirates, some swordplay, I'm at the part where they fistfight because they always have to fight."

  "How is it?" Reiss asked, passing the book back to her friend.

  "It's trash, but entertaining trash. By the same guy who did that Swords & Shields serial, though he toned down the really exotic metaphors. Which I miss, actually."

  Reiss shook her head slowly, "Sounds interesting in that mind numbing way, but Atisha'd never go for it. She's of the opinion that unless it cleanses the mind or heals the soul it's a waste of one's Maker given time."

  "Sweet shitting Andraste, your sister sounds exhausting," Lunet sighed. She slipped her trashy book into her bag and patted it closer to the chair.

  "Tell me about it," Reiss nodded. Over the years Atisha grew close to both Andraste and the chantry, and in a bid to be accepted she became the most holy of holies without anyone asking it of her. Still, she was her sister even if Reiss had to scrub any of her swearwords from her letters before sending them.

  As Lunet swirled around her empty glass hoping to make more appear, Reiss jabbed a finger at her, "Why would you read a romance story with a man and a woman?"

  "It ain't like there a lot of other options out on the market. I make due by mentally turning General Grey into a leggy redhead with freckles splattered across her chest."

  Reiss laughed at her friend's pragmatism. She was going to miss this. Being with Lunet or visiting the alienage was her only chance to decompress and take a proper elven breath. Most of her life she held it in for fear of angering a human. And now she'd be holding it while surrounded by the highest people in the land.

  "Maker's breath, two months or more until we can do this," Reiss groaned.

  "So, what'
s two months? Don't go acting like you're gonna die or anything. Shit, if you don't want it, I'll take it. I could really use that 200 Sovereigns. Just got to find a blonde wig and I doubt that King will even notice..."

  "Fine," Reiss stuttered, holding her hand up to her friend, "you're right. I shouldn't complain."

  "Damn straight, suck it up, Rat. This ain't no Orlesian spa day. We're here to work!" For never serving in the Inquisition, Lunet did a spot on shout from the old sergeants that patrolled up and down the ranks. "Save the world, help old ladies out of trees, guide lost mabari across streets, and all that other stuff you soldiers get up to in retirement."

  "At least keep a single King from getting stuck in a tree," Reiss sighed. She suspected she should return back soon. The King gave her the day, but it seemed unwise to risk overstaying her leave for a minute.

  "Which with our illustrious King Alistair seems a possibility so..." Lunet reached over and patted Reiss on the hand, "good luck with that."

  "Thanks ever so much for your concern," Reiss sighed. "I should probably be returning."

  "It's a long walk to the palace district. Crossing over all that gold running the streets has to be hell on your knees," Lunet exasperated. "Oh, and Maker's sake, take your damn cat when you go. It's been mewling and crying at all hours since you left."

  "Sylaise?" Reiss spun around to follow Lunet's finger and sure enough there was the grey tabby marching towards them from across the road. Her stomach swung freely back and forth as she paid no heed to the others walking it. Reiss didn't even have to reach down to pick up the animal as she hopped up onto her traveling trunk and sat down upon it. With her tail curling along the edge, Sylaise beamed those yellow eyes upon the two elves and dared either to order her off.

  "Look at that, you've got a friend to go with you," Lunet chuckled at the bold feline. "Should make the long days and nights fly by." Staggering up to her feet, Reiss followed suit. Her friend held out her hand and clasped Reiss' in a weird handshake. "Seriously, good luck up there. All us little people down here are counting on you to not fuck it up."

  And if she did, if she lost the King on her watch, what would it mean for all the elves in Denerim. In Ferelden? Perhaps thedas itself? The pressure of her people crushed down her shoulders in exchange for a few hundred Sovereigns. Maker's breath, she was doomed.

  "Thanks, Lune. Not like I wasn't under enough stress already."

  "Happy to help," she smiled wide and without saying another word, she pressed the first book of the series into Reiss' hand. "Try to stay true to us up there, Rat."

  Running her fingers over the spine, Reiss slipped the book into her trunk, much to Sylaise's consternation. Picking the trunk up, cat and all, she smiled at Lunet, "You know I will, Rabbit."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Garden Party

  When a pop reverberated through the gardens Alistair cried out, "Okay, that's it. Daddy's done." Spud's impenetrable lip stuck further and further out, like a drawbridge to release the horde, but he was unmoved by her plight. He also couldn't move due to his knee seizing up. Groaning, Alistair tipped over to his side which invited a toddler to hop onto his back like a crazed deepstalker. She began to coat him in the grass she'd yanked out in tufts because of reasons that made sense in her mind.

  "Spud," Alistair warned, trying to get her to stop while he gritted his teeth and stretched out his knee. A thousand curses erupted behind his eyes but he bit them all down while the renegade joint gave in to his commands. He couldn't remember exactly what caused this part of his body to fall apart, but he suspected there was something stupid he did in his twenties that was finally enacting its revenge. Aging was best left to the young.

  Unaware of her father's struggles, Spud's pudgy hands beat erratically up and down his arm trying to get him to become the playful druffalo again. "I'm out, Tater Tot," he said, trying to rise to his feet. But the tyrant in short pants wasn't hearing any of that.

  "No!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. A few of the nobles who just had to visit the gardens while the royals did perked up. Alistair had wanted this to be simple, a family thing, so of course Eamon used the moment to their political advantage. Nearly everyone who was certain either the Queen was about to keel over dead, was already dead for five years or more, believed the children -- as a ruse by the palace -- were secretly puppets, or were just general jerks stood around watching. He'd shrugged most of it off, wanting to for once ignore that damn crown shrinking him down year after year, but nothing in his life could ever be simple.

  "Spudkins," Alistair warned. "What do we say?"

  "No, I don't wanna!" she fumed, nearing stage five on the toddler breakdown scale. After this it was pounding her fists on the ground, crying giant crocodile tears, and refusing to do anything anyone asked of her. Which would go over swimmingly with so much of the Bannorn sticking their judgmental noses into it. He anticipated a swarm of "Well I nevers" from old dowagers who hadn't seen a filthy nappy since they named the damn Age.

  Alistair reached over to swoop up his daughter into a hug, which she deftly dodged, the tears beginning, when a calmer voice spoke out, "Little Lady." While her father meant nothing, her mum's softer but more direct condemnation stifled those waterworks in an instant. "We behave when in public."

  "Fine," Spud groaned, before flailing out her skirt and plopping onto the ground.

  Cordell slipped over to the grumbling princess and hovered above her. "Shall I play with you instead?"

  She jabbed her finger into a small hole in the dirt, sifting it back and forth with the full anger at her reach before turning to the man and shrugging, "Okay."

  Clearly out of his element, Cordell wasn't prepared for the princess to lob a clump of dirt at him. It splattered against his not so pristine white robes before flopping onto the ground. Spud gave him the same look the advisors often did to Alistair after explaining something blisteringly simple. "You catch it." Then the three year old mimicked catching her dirt clod to the man, certain that he didn't understand the mechanics.

  "Yes, of course," he gasped. "Do you not have a ball we could use or...?"

  "She's always puncturing the bladders, they never last," Alistair explained.

  Those startled blue eyes met his a moment, Cordell gasping with uncertainty in how to address the man. "Ah, yes, I understand."

  Spud reached over and tugged on the hem of his robes, "Chase me!" Before he had time to respond, the girl ran off down the rocky path, her shoes long since abandoned. Nodding to his King, Cordell ran stiff legged after her. He was so far out of his element it was almost adorable. Spud was going to run rings around him.

  Chuckling under his breath at the man of the cloth saddled with toddler duty, Alistair collapsed onto the warm bench beside the Queen. She kept a shall draped over her head to try and combat the sun, and also keep her pale face shadowed from the other onlookers searching for any chink in the royal armor. Still, she looked better every day, the healers assuring him the danger had passed. Thank the Maker for small miracles.

  "How's he doing?" Alistair asked, jerking his chin at the blanketed prince snuggled in his mother's arms.

  "Full and exhausted. He's been sleeping most of the day away," Beatrice commented, rocking the boy back and forth.

  "Oh boy, growth spurt incoming," Alistair groaned. "I turn around and the kid'll gain another ten pounds and be walking."

  She smiled politely at his complaint and then lifted the baby towards him. Without needing any suggestion, Alistair scooped him up. For a moment, her fingers trailed over Cailan's slumbering mouth, those tiny lips slightly parted. "It goes quickly, but we should have some time to enjoy the quiet moments."

  Bea was right, the baby was down and out, barely twisting in his sleep as the father he tolerated shifted him in his arms to a comfortable position. "Sure, quiet moments right before he's dipping into levels of rage a berserker can't reach," Alistair tipped his head in the direction of their daughter, who was currently lecturing Cordell on so
mething. Knowing Spud there was a good chance what she was saying only made sense in her head. Often times Alistair would nod along in utter confusion, and if she got really worked up about it, swoop in to tickle her.

  "She is very certain in her opinion," Beatrice said, "That will serve her well on the throne."

  He tried to not groan. That was the point of their little family farce after all, to make kids however they could to fill that seat when he was gone. Before, when an heir was just a theory or a lump under the Queen's dress Alistair didn't care. But the idea of putting all that stress and fear on his daughter's shoulders rubbed Alistair raw. He hated the idea of her suffering, in particular because of him.

  "What about you?" Alistair whispered to the bundle in his arms instead. "Will you be set in your opinion?"

  "Ah..." Beatrice began, about to whisk the baby away but Cailan didn't wake despite the interruption. His tiny fist thudded a few times against the course peasants before falling back to the blankets. Beatrice smiled warmly at her baby, enjoying every moment she could before he was a two year old rampaging through the gardens. It was stressful on her keeping up with the voracious appetite of a newborn, but she insisted that Marn take some time off. If it weren't for the gathered gentry, the bear of a bodyguard standing frozen beside the gate, and a continual threat of assassins on the horizon this was almost a nice day.

  Folding her hands across her lap, Bea smiled, "This was a lovely idea."

  "I wouldn't go that far," Alistair said. "I could kill Eamon for..."

  "Now," Bea interrupted. Funny, she never did that before. Not that she didn't often object to whatever stupid thing Alistair said, she simply didn't care or didn't think it her place to raise her thoughts. "It is all well. The day is lovely and warm, the spring flowers are in bloom. In particular those sunny daffodils, and there is no reason the rest of the gentry cannot enjoy the garden with us."