My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Me?" Rosie snorted. She'd felt her heart shatter in half when her mind feared Anjali dead. It was the deepest pit of despair, far darker than watching the assassin walk away could ever be. "Do you have any idea how much you scared me?" Rosie said while cupping a hand to Anjali's cheek.

  Her beautiful assassin pressed into it a moment, the warm curve folding right into Rosie's palm. After a breath, she sighed, "I did happen to overhear you shouting something just as you were about to geld that tainted slime tongue. It almost sounded as if you loved me."

  "Ah," the blush rampaged up her spine, spilling over her stomach and cheeks like bad wine. Rosie began to back away, her mouth babbling, "Heat of the moment. I was very flustered, and angry, and needed..."

  Anjali gripped onto Rosie's waist, her fingers cupping right along the curve of her hips. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice as unbreakable as the mountains.

  Leaping forward, Rosie caught her in a deep kiss. Anjali mumbled something in shock before giving into the warm need burning in both their hearts. The first kiss of love. Anjali slid away first, her umber eyes hunting around the piles of nobility standing around in their party clothes watching.

  "What about all of them? Won't they...?"

  "I don't care," Rosie laughed, "I have you..." Tears percolated in her eyes, the happiness threatening to consume her whole, when she paused. "Do I have you?" Her lips flattened in concern as it dawned upon her that they hadn't spoken of the future at all.

  "Sapheela, even if your entire court deemed me unworthy of your affections. If they locked you up high in a tower and cursed me to never look upon you for a hundred years," she drew her fingers against Rosie's ear, tucking the lost hairs back, "Every day I would climb that tower, waiting for when the curse would break so I may look upon your beautiful face once more."

  The romantic sentiment nearly swept Rosie off her feet. She plunged back to kiss Anjali with every ounce of love inside of her. That dusty heart she kept preserved away erupted out of its linens and paper. Beating stronger than she thought possible, Rosie drew her hand to her chest -- feeling her own heart -- before cupping over Anjali's. It too was dancing in a fiery passion.

  "Plus," Anjali shrugged, "I'd be a fool to turn away a beautiful princess' attentions."

  "Yes," Rosie smiled, "yes you would." She glanced back at the mass of her people who needed guidance, a leader, a strong hand and head to tell them what to do for their own sake. No doubt she should fill that role. Make certain that the prisoners were secure, escort the dignitaries somewhere safe. Begin damage control with Karelle to cut off any ill wanted rumors.

  Don't let them take everything from you. Keep part of yourself back.

  Wrapping a hand around Anjali's fingers, Rosie grinned slyly. She drifted her lips near her love's ear, "It seems to me we never had a chance to properly greet each other tonight."

  "That..." the assassin, a woman who'd seen the dark side of the world, walked her fair share of intrigue, blinked in surprise and blushed, "That's true. You...you want to now?"

  "I don't want anything else," Rosie snickered. She stole one last kiss from Anjali before leading her away from the throne room. One day it'd be hers. She'd find that malleable husband, she might even manage to have children of her own. Her life would belong to Ferelden. But in her heart she'd keep that small slice reserved just for her. A slice named Anjali.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  Judgment

  Everyone got what amounted to a good night's sleep over the course of a day and a half. Myra spent the first half of it with her mom's people checking injuries and just in general trying to be helpful. By the time she stumbled back to the agency as the sun was coming up, Lunet told her to get some damn sleep already. She barely made it to her bedroom, never mind the bed.

  Her mom stayed back to keep watch over her dad. She didn't say it like that, Reiss coming up with some excuse like she might be needed in case the prisoners make an escape but Myra knew. Judging by how the King clung to her hand even while other people kept trying to tear him away, the feeling and fear seemed to be mutual.

  She lost track of her...sort-of siblings until the second day? Third? Whatever. It was Tuesday by the time Myra wandered into the first real court since the attack, the theme for the day all about raining down fire on those that tried to murder the King. The tale echoed among all the streets of Denerim. Where there weren't criers, townsfolk picked it up nearly all flabbergasted that someone would dare attack their beloved King and how no one ever like that Eldon nor his family. People seemed a bit iffy on what exactly happened, though one claimed that "Princess Rosamund, resplendent in her resplendentness stepped into the barrier, which released a white light and freed the trapped King."

  While the man seemed to be blitzed out of his gourd as the words plopped from his mouth, the other idiots around him agreed. Not even a week out and they all but turned Rosie into the next Andraste herself. Seemed about right. Wait until Myra could torture her sister with it.

  The grand hall had been scrubbed rather well, all things considered. All the blood was gone and the dead bodies. She noticed a few heads jammed over the entrance to the gate thrown wide open. Probably from the dead mercs to make a show of strength. Judging by the wailing coming from the cells, the captured ones still had their date with the headman's axe.

  A few scars remained on the walls where arrows and...a bit of mage fire charred up a tapestry. Myra ran a hand around the back of her neck to try and rub away the awkwardness as she didn't remember causing that. Barely looking at what was probably a hundred year old relic burned to toast, she stepped into the throng of people. It was more packed than usual. Court could wax and wane depending on if anything good was being presented.

  Some days it was just the King, Karelle and her pack, and four or five complainers. Oh, and that one guy who'd sit on the bench and slowly peel an orange without making eye contact with anyone. He was always here.

  Today however they were turning people away. Seemed all of Denerim wanted to see the bastard who threatened their King and Princess. The guards nodded at Myra, easily letting her pass. Seemed she was getting some respect for slicing open her hand like a roast duck.

  "Gah," she hissed glaring down at the bandages still weeping a bit from her impatience. "They always make it sound so easy in stories, but this thing hurts!"

  No one was around to listen in on her whining. She should have brought Bryn, or maybe she was working today. In the shuffle of day becoming night and her body craving all the sleep in thedas, Myra lost track of her friend. Thank the Maker she didn't get caught up in all of that at least.

  Walking up the fancy aisle to try and find a seat, Myra turned to spot Ser Daryan standing towards the back. She had a hand upon the hilt of her sword at her side but no squire. Odd. No doubt Gavin was off feeding baby kittens he found dumped in an alley. Which, okay, would be pretty damn adorable to watch.

  The Knight's eye darted over towards Myra, clearly watching the king's daughter who was staring back. In focusing on the nobody, she failed to spot the dark, tiny woman sidle up beside her. The Hero of Ferelden smiled a moment at her and stuck a hand out.

  "Ser Daryan?" she asked politely.

  The Knight could barely contain an eye roll, but picked up Lana's hand, "Yes. And you are?"

  "Gavin's mother."

  "Really?" that seemed to surprise the Knight who honed in on the tiny, unassuming woman. "Here I thought you'd be much younger."

  "And prettier," the Hero spat back without a pause. Daryan's eyes widened a moment, but Lana barely paid it any attention. "People make many assumptions about me and my husband, but I don't much bother with idle gossip."

  "That's wise," she tipped her head and moved to slide her fingers away from the lagging handshake, but Lana gripped tighter.

  Her sweet voice snapped to pure ice as she glared daggers up at Daryan. "If you ever try to hurt my son, physically or psychologically, I will destroy you."

  Daryan, this
tall practically Avaar warrior of a woman, eyed up the mage that barely came to her chin and laughed at the threat. The air began to thicken, Myra tasting the veil shattering to pieces. She whipped her head around to see the sparks flying but nothing seemed to be happening until she heard a groan fall out of Daryan's lips. Her face was beet red and she seemed to be trying to wrench her grip out of Lana's.

  "Do not doubt it," the Hero said before releasing her magic assisted vice on the Knight. While Ser Daryan attempted to massage her bruised but not broken hand, Lana turned and waved. "Hi Ali."

  "Lanny!" he smiled wider, pumping his fist while breaking from the circle of people advising him. Rather than join the King, the Hero wandered off to sit beside her husband. He clearly whispered something curt to her and all she did was snuggle closer. The Commander seemed less than happy with the response, or perhaps he knew her actions, but he gave in and wrapped an arm around to pull her to him.

  A fancy horn blared, announcing the arrival of someone of importance. Myra turned around to see Rosie standing in her circle of forced-upon female friends. All the old familiar pains in the ass were there, except one. Forgetting the manners barely bred into her, Myra hopped over to her sister. She expected to be shooed away like the gnat while all the important people were watching, but no reason to not ask.

  "Rossie," she began, waffling back and forth on her feet. "Where's Tess?"

  Her sister turned away from whatever missive she'd been reading and smiled at Myra's invading of her political sphere. "My," she tipped her head as if she was grateful for the distraction. "Tess? Oh..."

  "She made it through the night, right?" Myra glanced around. There'd been a few faces they had to say goodbye to, arms that moved too slow, and body's that sacrificed themselves for others. Once this was over, there were going to be a few funerals for all to attend. She dreaded the one for the agency most of all. Everyone there was her family.

  "Yes, yes," Rosie licked her lips and glanced away a moment, "Tess survived. She helped greatly in directing the royal guards to us."

  "So... I mean you two are never apart."

  "Um," she noticed it now, her sister blushing hard on her cheeks as if she wanted to melt into a puddle, "she decided to take a break from her duties and visit with her family back west for a few months."

  "Now? Why?" Myra scoffed in confusion. Sure, things didn't go great but that'd been their entire summer so far. What was one more setback?

  Her sister rubbed the back of her neck, "Because..." she drew out before her eyes darted to the shadow hugging the wall. Anjali's eyes shone from where she stood and not for the first time Myra regretted sleeping through the breakfast when Rosie officially introduced her to Dad. Everyone refused to talk about it. Even Cailan wouldn't divulge what happened because 'you had to be there.' Something told her Dad made his cheese wheel puppet to break the ice and the cool assassin had to suffer through it all.

  Myra nodded at Rosie's lover, fully confused what Anjali would do with sending Tess away. It wasn't as if... "Oh," she smacked her forehead, her brain catching up. "Tess? Really? She was...boy, I did not see that."

  "Please," Rosie whispered, "It's private, and personal, and a bit awkward now."

  "All these years. All these years and I didn't even catch a whiff that she..."

  "You?" her sister stared hard up at Myra, "What about me?"

  "Rossie, you barely knew what you wanted. But I'm supposed to see this stuff. Just, do me a favor, okay. Don't tell my mom. I will never hear the blighted end of it. Oh Myra, you think you're so clever and can cold read people? Well look at this warlord army you missed."

  Her sister chuckled at Myra's impression of Reiss. Tipping her head to the side, she sighed, "Deal." Myra smiled back and began to turn on her heel, when Rosie added, "Oh, I think your mother's sitting up at the front and she saved you a seat."

  "Mom's here?"

  "She didn't wish to leave our father's side," Rosie said with a lift of her shoulders. After the veil shredding truth of how unrelated all the Theirin kids were there should have probably been a lot of soul searching, slammed doors, and yelling off of balconies about how they didn't know what they were anymore. But in the end it didn't seem to matter. They all loved their Dad, he loved them, and they...Maker save them all, they loved each other too. Not that they'd admit it to their faces or anything. Reputations and all.

  But they were siblings, family. A messy, complicated family that could get on each other's nerves without trying. But what family didn't have that?

  Waving to her sister, Myra scampered off towards the front. She spotted Reiss sitting not in her signature coat and hat, but one of the livery tunics the royal guards wore. At Myra's confused quirk of the head, Reiss explained, "My clothes were disgusting and this was all that was available. Short of me stealing your father's, but I fear that would send the wrong impression."

  "Oh no, this lady elf is pretending to be our King!" Myra mocked while taking the seat beside her mom.

  "More due to your father's broad shoulders how much of my chest I'd be flashing at the court. I'm too old for such tawdry things," Reiss grumbled as she leaned back.

  "Ah, come on Mom, you're not that old," Myra smiled. "I mean, you are old. Like... fought in the first blight old. Saw the rise of the dragons old."

  "Laugh all you like, but one day it'll happen to you."

  Reiss turned away from Myra pulling a face as another round of horns did their little ditty. It wasn't something to dance to, but she knew enough that it meant the King was about to begin deliberating. Everyone rose when Alistair walked up the aisle, heads bowing to their king. He moved slowly, his feet barely lifting off the ground from injuries she knew the healers were still concerning themselves with.

  Upon reaching the throne, the King turned to look out at the assembly and moved to sit. Heads popped up from their bow, people about to sit as well, when the King froze. Practically everyone hung suspended in the air, asses hanging out when Alistair smiled, "Simon didn't say."

  With his joke breaking the looming fear of their King's fragile mortality, he plopped onto the throne and the other players stepped into view. Rosie took what was usually the Queen's chair beside their dad while Cailan and Beatrice sat on a bench at the side. When the door from behind opened to reveal both Gavin and Ser Daryan, Myra had to bite down on the urge to wave furiously at him. They took up the second bench, Daryan in particular sitting proud. Though when her eyes darted towards where the Hero sat she flinched. Served her right.

  The rounds of sentencing passed rather quickly. Merc -- dead. Merc -- dead. There wasn't a lot of changing up the monotony of the sentencing. Every man Eldon bought was a murderer wanted for some crime or another. And even if they weren't, treason and attempted regicide pretty much doomed 'em. Myra at least expected sentencing Eldon to be interesting, but that one fell more to Cailan.

  Her brother rattled off so much tax code and precedent, nearly every head in the assembly slipped to the shoulder beside it in sleep. It drew on so long, no one cared or even noticed when Cailan offered his judgment. It wasn't until Alistair clapped his hands hard that people jostled awake and attempted to focus on what was going on.

  While Eldon was dragged away, Myra jabbed her mother in the side, "What just happened?"

  "How should I know?" Reiss shrugged.

  "Is that all?" the King asked the bailiff. "Please tell me that's all, my ass blisters are growing adorable baby blisters."

  "Ah, not quite your Highness. We have one more..." the man turned towards the doors flung open and everyone followed suit. The last doomed man stood with his paper thin hands shackled against the ratty cassock tossed on his body. His bald spot was even more pronounced by how his head hung down, the neck muscles custard while his chin bobbed this way and that. Someone shoved into the Brother's back and he began to walk forward.

  Oh boy. This should be interesting.

  "Brother Cordell," the bailiff began, "accomplice to Lord Eldon in matters of attempt
ed regicide, invading the palace, murdering of the royal guards, and smearing the good name of our beloved Princess. How do you plead?"

  "I didn't mean for that to happen," Cordell blubbered, his blue eyes burning over in tears. "I swear to the Maker, please believe me. I tried to warn you, to..."

  "Silence prisoner, or you will be silenced," the bailiff took over, unmoved by his pleading. But Myra knew who would be.

  "You were there, Cordell," Alistair began inching off his seat. In her life she'd seen him show great mercy for the smallest plight, but it was obvious that there was no drop of compassion inside his body for the man who threatened his children. The man who threatened the lives of his own children. "We all saw you. You could have stopped it but you didn't."

  "I...I didn't mean for it to go that far. Just, I wanted to be heard and..."

  The King tented his fingers together and stared across the top of them. "I am recusing myself and giving this over to my daughter, Rosamund."

  "What?" Cordell's head snapped up in surprise. Myra expected to find the same shocked look on her sister's face but she must have been warned this was coming.

  The Princess stepped off her fancy dais and moved closer while speaking. "There is only one punishment for treason, Cordell -- death."

  "Please," he reached out with his hands, but the guards yanked on the chain binding them together. The weak man tumbled to his knees. It was a pathetic sight but for all he put into motion he deserved far worse.

  The Princess seemed to feel the same, her eyes hard as stone as she gazed down at the broken man. "Brother Cordell, I pronounce you..."

  "Rose!"

  Every head swiveled back to the Queen who didn't stand as she spoke at her daughter. "Think carefully about your actions."

  "I am, mother," she glared, no doubt having weighed how much of a threat this man would be to her reign if he was allowed to live. In truth, Myra'd have killed him that night if she were in Rosie's place, but she was always the most brash in the family.