My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Are you certain? Because I'm not a fan of royalty shouting anywhere near me."

  "Get in line." She glared out at this country that was meant to one day be hers, but what did that mean? What did that promise of blood matter when everyone kept wresting it away from her, because she didn't deserve it? Because it was above her? Because it was dangerous? Well, one day there'd be no one else and Rosamund would be all they had. What then?

  A soft hand cupped against Rosie's shoulder and she turned right into Anjali's flickering eyes. By light of day an impishness danced in her deep browns, but under cover of darkness they were wide and looked almost innocent, like a sweet fawn's.

  "How are you holding up?" the woman asked, seeming to stare right into her soul.

  "Who, me? The princess? The spoiled brat that has to get her way and pitches a fit when she doesn't? Just dandy." Rosie meant it as a distraction, but Anjali's head whipped and her lips pursed.

  "Was someone saying that? Accusing you of being..."

  "No," Rosie shook her head, cupping her fingers over Anjali's to try and assure her no leaping to her defense was necessary, "Just...something I always have to keep in the back of my head. I'm not me, I'm the crown. The face of Ferelden. And if people see me acting out even for a moment it forever taints the lofted station until it crumbles to dust."

  She expected the assassin to sigh, or blow her lips at the enormity of the situation but she brayed a laugh fast. When Rosie whipped over, glaring in confusion, Anjali raced to cover up the next one but didn't quite make it. "Really? You really believe that? That people can't think for even two seconds 'Oh, she's just having a fight with her dad?'"

  "If someone spots a single scarlet ribbon flitting through the sky in Rivain, what happens?"

  "Panic, shit their drawers, run inside to hide under beds."

  "Even if there's a perfectly logical explanation?"

  The woman sighed, "All right, ya got me. People are a pain in the ass." Rosie smiled a bit at the admittance. Sure, being a princess meant she got the best. Best clothes, best food, best teaching, best certainty that she'd be taken care of. In exchange her life was broken off into little pieces and shared around the country. Whatever sliver she hoped to keep private for herself kept slipping through her fingers.

  "I've never been gladder to turn down my mother," Anjali mumbled, her head tipping to her chest.

  At that, Rosie turned fully to her, the princess tipping her hip into the same banister so they could look eye to eye. "Is that why you became an assassin?"

  Anjali's head whipped up, the woman seeming to not have meant to say it aloud. A trait they appeared to share. "It's..." her teeth scissored against her bottom lip which shined by the torchlight. "You asked about this," she drew her finger to circle the tattoo around her eye. It didn't entirely look like a ribbon, tick marks jutting off the half circle a bit like a clock.

  "It's not a Scarlet Ribbon tattoo, we don't even really have those," the woman who had no troubles sharing anything on her chest seemed to falter. With eyes dancing, she said, "It's a Seer symbol."

  "Seers?" Absently, Rosie reached over as if she was about to trace the tattoo upon Anjali's face but paused and tried to stuff her errant hands into her hair. What in the Maker's name are you doing?

  "Like...okay, there's not a great example here. One part mother in the chantry to another part alderman. Seer women pretty much run the villages and towns in Rivain. Need to know when to plant crops? Visit the Seer. Need to know when it's best to harvest? See the Seer. Wondering if your baby will survive? Off to the Seer."

  "Are they...mages?" She didn't know much about Rivain but even they had circles until the entire structure collapsed about thirty years ago.

  "Some of them," Anjali said, "but not all. You don't need to see the future to be a Seer, just..." Her head hung down a moment before she glanced over at Rosie, "Like you, really. Smart. Poised. Able to arrive at a solution and then give the order no matter how badly it might go."

  Rosie touched her chest softly, feeling incredibly childish all of a sudden. She wasn't any of those things with her father. There was another thought stinging deep inside of her, which she couldn't stop from emerging, "And you ran from being a Seer. From someone like me."

  "Not, no, it's not like that," the assassin turned on her heel and quickly bundled Rosie's fingers in her own. It felt nice and friendly, until Anjali brought one of Rosie's hands up to her lips. So many people over the years had kissed her hand, sometimes as a sign of deference, sometimes to be an ass. But in all of them, she'd never sat upon the brink watching with her entire body stretched taut like a ribbon as a pair of succulent lips pressed warm breath to her skin.

  It lasted at most a heartbeat, but it felt a lifetime, her flushed cheeks and hungry eyes darting over to Anjali's as whatever offense she felt was long lost. "I ran from my mother forcing me to become something I didn't want. The people adored her. She is a mage, and could see into the spirit realm often using it to divine secrets."

  "But not you?"

  Anjali twisted her head sadly, "First day out of her body and I already managed to disappoint her. I see in you some of what," she snickered a moment, "what I was taught to do. The playing nice, the pretending to be detached and unaffected. But there's more, isn't there?" Her full bodied voice drifted even deeper, Rosie's lips parting as her spine shivered. More?

  "You, defying your dad like that. Breaking into the Tern's office. Standing your ground when that hurlock charged you."

  The latter was the most foolish of them all, Rosie being knocked on her back from the move. She was only saved by Anjali and Ser Michael acting quickly. With the wind kicked out of her, their beloved Princess had to scrabble across the ground, snatching up all the dropped arrows she could.

  Rosie's cheeks lit up at all of her sins listed like that, but the assassin smiled wide, "It's glorious. I never expected..." The smile dipped and she stepped back a breath, "Didn't think one could be both. My mother tried to train the fire out of me, to quench it with words like duty, and privilege, and devotion."

  "I just..." Rosie swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the woman's face, "try to be me."

  "Me too," she snickered, "and look at how well that's gotten me."

  "What about your father? Did he want you to become a Seer?"

  "Don't know. Never met him. Mother did not like to talk about it. I could bump into him on the street in a market somewhere and I'd never know," Anjali grew quiet a moment, her head bouncing with the wind before she sighed, "Could have slit his throat on a contract and been none the wiser too."

  "That's..."

  "Grim? Dark? Bloody?" she shrugged, "I am an assassin. I can't hide what I've done or what I will do."

  "Is that it then? Your only options in life are assassin or seer?"

  "Awe," Anjali smiled, her warm fingers sliding against Rosie's cheek to tuck back an errant strip of hair. "Is the beautiful princess trying to save me?"

  "I'm only...you seem rather reticent about your life choice. I mean, if you could be anything, what would you be?"

  The woman paused, her lips curling up in thought as she turned out to the vast world before her. There were a multitude of options in a land where no one would have ever known her as an assassin or a seer's daughter. It was the best kind of freedom -- anonymity.

  After a moment, Anjali turned back to Rosie, and her lip curled into an enchanting smile. Heavy lidded eyes darted up and down Rosie's face as if she was trying to savor the view, before the assassin whispered, "A prince."

  The single word pulled Rosie in, her eyelids fluttering shut as she leaned closer to Anjali. She felt a hand with a great gash down the palm cup first against her waist, then rise against her jaw. Rosie tipped her head, easily following Anjali's soft directions to line up her lips with...

  "Hey, kid."

  Her eyes sprung open and she whipped away from the assassin to find her father stepping out onto the veranda. Rosie didn't need to drop her hands as
Anjali did it first, the assassin easily pretending they hadn't been about to...to what? Nothing. They weren't doing anything. Obviously.

  "Dad?" Rosie gasped out in a high voice before trying to drag it down, "Father."

  "So, you're not going to start with calling me a feckless boil snake that's consumed its brains instead of its tail? Progress."

  Rosie pursed her lips, knowing she'd never call her father such ludicrous insults. He was showing off because he was angry, or in pain. For a beat, her dad looked over at the shadow by his daughter's side.

  "You're her, aren't you? The assassin to catch an assassin," he said it with such sarcasm, the idiocy of the plan wasn't lost of Rosie who folded her arms and sighed.

  "Uh," Anjali eyed up the king with her toes lifting as if she wanted to scamper over the railing and leap into the courtyard far below. "Yes, that'd be me." Screwing up her courage, she extended a hand to the King which he actually took.

  He shook it a moment before snarling, "If you hurt my daughter..."

  "I, I am doing my best to prevent that, Sir," Anjali widened her eyes while glancing over at Rosie.

  "Dad!" she shouted, growing embarrassed by his overreaction. If Anjali had any intentions to dispatch with Rosamund there'd been ample opportunity already which she never took. The answer why seemed simple enough.

  "All right," Alistair released his death grip upon the woman and stepped back. "Can you excuse us a moment, assassin? I need to talk to my spawn in private, preferably without her stomping away in a snit."

  Sighing even more dramatically, Rosie tried to whip her head away from her father but in doing so she caught Anjali peering at her with concern. She looked as if she intended to remain. Why? To protect Rosie? Barely lifting her hand, Rosie tried to convey that she was fine with her dad. Anjali's darkened eyes drifted over the old man a moment before she nodded her head.

  "Yes, Ser," she fake saluted and turned back towards the door out.

  "Oh," Alistair spun on his heel to face her, "you wouldn't happen to be Antivan, would you?"

  "No," Anjali shook her head, fully lost.

  "Thank the Maker for tiny miracles," her dad spun back, making no sense, but that was normal for Rosie. Anjali drew her teeth over her bottom lip, one hand clinging to the door handle, but Rosie gave her the go ahead. With a sigh, the assassin vanished, once again leaving father and daughter all alone on the balcony.

  Wind was clearly breaking up the trees lining along the village, but only the sound of the waterwheel churning from the river feeding the lake filled the night air. Rosie was content to stand there listening to it only, but her father finally drew up the courage to speak.

  "I knew an assassin once," he said, causing Rosie to whip her head over in confusion. "Biggest pain in the ass I ever met," her dad laughed, before scrunching up his nose, "except for the witch."

  "When was this?" She knew her father kept circumspect company at times, in particular the smuggling ring he was involved with to ferret slaves out of Tevinter and into Ferelden. But aside from the pirates and mercenaries, she never heard of a full blooded assassin in the mix.

  "The blight, not my idea to keep him around, believe me. You can't really ever trust someone like that. If their loyalty can be bought then how do you ever stop questioning them, stop wondering if they'll turn on you for the right price?" Her dad slowed in his rant to stare out across Redcliffe. She knew he grew up here to some extent, but he never liked to talk about it much.

  "Did he?" Rosie's question threw him off, as Alistair whipped his head over to her. "Did he betray you?"

  Snorting, he staggered back from the view, "No. No, he never ever did. Was still a pain in the ass though. Look, Rosie..."

  "Dad," she interrupted, "there isn't anything else to say."

  "No, there's a lot left to say between you and I. For starters, you apologizing for storming out. You want to be treated like an adult you don't do that. Or you hurl a wine bottle and scream for someone to clean it up. Either way, do it like an adult." She didn't laugh at his interlude, just folded her arms and waited.

  "And I need to say I'm sorry too. You were right, I have been shielding you from this, all of this...ruling stuff."

  Her arms fell apart, Rosie's hands thudding to her thighs as she watched her father pick at one of the knots on his shoulder. They were meant to display to everyone in thedas that he was a King and due the respect necessary. Most of the time, he barely tied the things, leaving it to Karelle or one of the other long suffering advisors to do it up quick. When she was little, he'd sometimes encourage her or her brother to undo them.

  "I get it," she said, falling back upon the logical conclusion she reached earlier. "My ascension to the throne requires your..." Maker, it was hard to say, to think, "loss. And that's difficult for anyone to..."

  "Oh kiddo," her father turned to her, a doleful smile stretching across his dour cheeks, "I'm not worried about me dying, or plan on clinging rotten tooth and nail to the crown. Though, I'd appreciate you not shoving me off the top of the stairs to get it."

  "Dad!" she gasped, tears prickling at the fearful thought of losing him.

  Alistair bit into his lip and snickered, "The truth is, I don't want you to suffer same as me. No parent does. No good parent. I suppose there are plenty of shit ones who like watching their kids toil away."

  "It's not suffering if I choose it," Rosie insisted but her dad sighed.

  "Spuddy," he mused before flinching, "Sorry, I know, you're not a child. You're an adult, a woman that can get very cross like her mother when she's got half a mind." She felt foolish for her outburst, but didn't race to correct him either. The old nickname was childish and should remain dead.

  "Just because you choose something doesn't mean it can't hurt you," her dad said. "I want to protect you as long as I can from it. From the real pain of...of what I get in my reports, or what I have to decide. Having lives hanging in the balance while you choose where to put your thumb on the scale is honestly not a lot of fun. I have no idea why anyone wants to do this job. Kills to get this job. We should put a cat in charge or something."

  "Dad."

  "A goat? Or is that too evil?"

  He hated being King, everyone knew it who met the man for maybe five minutes. But somehow he was also cursed to be rather good at it. He could make the decisions necessary, keep the country floating through some of the worst times of the age, and his daughter looked up to that. More than that, she respected it.

  "I want this," Rosie repeated what she felt she'd been fighting with for an age. "Keeping me from it isn't protecting me, it's...it's delaying the inevitable. Eventually I will have to learn."

  "But while there are assassins about? That's a bit like teaching a kid to swim by chucking him off a waterfall."

  "It will show we are strong, that the Theirin line does not flinch from adversity," she stuck out her chin, her eyes gazing across the horizon and up to the stars above.

  This was her land, not just by right or blood, but in her soul. She was taught everything about it, the leaders who guided it, the hands who fed it, the life blood that sustained it, and the dangers lurking under the surface. Ferelden was as much Rosamund as her hair or nails were.

  "How long you been working on that one?" her dad asked, his shoulder bouncing into hers.

  "Since we first bumped into Anjali," Rosie admitted, growing flush on her face at the thought.

  "It's not bad. Could use a few more pompous words for the criers, but..." He reached over with one arm to tuck his eldest into a side hug. "I will never, ever ever, never stop worrying about you. From the day I picked you up out of the cradle and you were like this big," he extended a hand and pretended to cup a baby's head to show how small Rosie was as an infant, "I swore to myself, self, nothing bad will happen to this tiny, squealing potato."

  It was so foolish, but she couldn't stop the laugh at his sincerity.

  "And I meant it. Still do. For you, and Cailan, and Myra who's about ten times h
arder to protect on a good day."

  "Dad..."

  "I know, I can't control you. Andraste's sake, I could barely convince any of you that we poop in the latrine hole not our pants."

  "DAD!" Rosie shouted, whipping her head around out of fear anyone else was still listening in.

  He sighed at the chastisement, seeming to find it slightly funny but also exhausting. "Is there anyway I can convince you to come home with me? To plan a new trip later when things are safer out here? Without an assassin lurking about in the background?"

  The Princess blinked a moment at the sincerity in his voice. No orders, no threats, just a plea. Slowly, she shook her head no.

  Groaning, her father tipped his head back to the stars, "I figured as much. You know, you can be a real pain in the butt when you think you're doing something you have to."

  "So are you," Rosie added back, causing her father to smile.

  "All right, I hate it. I want you to know I hate it. I will put it on record if I can fish any of my clerks out of the fountain. Don't ask." He licked his lips in thought before continuing, "But if you're going to keep on, you're taking Karelle. Ah!"

  He threw a hand up to stop Rosie who was about to launch into an argument. "You need her. Without Avery, you're going to need someone who bleeds protocol from their veins. Trust me, on these pointless trips all the Banns love is protocol. Helps 'em show off. Without that, they'll eat you alive."

  "And the fact Karelle will report everything I do directly back to you has no factor in this?" Rosie twisted her head to the side.

  "It's exactly why this is the choice that I'm giving you. I'll leave, head back to Denerim and you can continue on, but no more lying, Rosie. No more you being all alone and sole decider. We're not at odds in this, we can make choices together too. Having allies, people you can turn to, to aid in all those sticky decisions, that's what this is really about. A lone ruler sat apart on a throne is one that's about to start impaling people up their bums until it's just a nation of corpses."

  She winced at the metaphor but nodded her head. "Okay, I can certainly use Karelle."