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Escaping imprisonment by a talking darkspawn emissary. Fighting dragons in the Deep Roads. Returning to the Keep to find a riot even she couldn't talk down. Already nearly at her tipping point, but she'd made a promise. She couldn't rest until she'd returned Keenan's ring.
Elissa had nearly lost her own ring in the Deep Roads; she had needed to retrieve it from a blighted, shambling corpse of a Warden the emissary had experimented upon. Had she died, she would hope one of her comrades would do Alistair the same courtesy she was providing Keenan's wife. Nida.
She had expected and was prepared for a grieving widow. Not an indifferent one.
He was gone for months at a time, often with no word.
Was I supposed to wait forever?
He forgets that I am a living, breathing woman, not just a symbol of something he's fighting for.
Love can only take you so far.
Elissa had sealed her shock and racing mind behind a cool mask of indifference, leaving Nida to her new...not that new...lover. If anyone noticed her foul mood on the ride back to the Keep, they didn't mention it. There was only Anders chattering away to fill the silence, occasionally broken by Nate and Velanna needling one another in a way that was certainly not flirting. The usual.
No one questioned Elissa's desire to retire to her quarters early after the day they'd had. She could be alone with her thoughts, a bottle of wine, and a quiet crying jag. One night of self pity, then back to work. She was their Commander, not a child to be coddled.
She sat at her desk, debating whether she had the energy to change out of her armor and into her nightshirt, and humming to herself in between sips of wine. She could never remember the exact order of the words, but the tune was permanently etched into her brain. A light humming tune in a gentle voice, a thick cable-knit blanket tucked around her shoulders, the comforting smell of violets and gorse in the air. Long, elegant fingers building and unwinding intricate braids in her hair until she fell asleep. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard her mother sing that song. Elissa knew she never did it justice herself.
A faint scratching at the door stopped her song. She frowned until she heard a chirping meow. The kitten landed in her lap without ceremony, purring and nuzzling against her uneasy stomach. Elissa smiled despite herself, swiping dried tears from her cheeks before scratching behind his ears.
"Hello, Pounce." Her voice was raw. She cleared her throat and ran a thumb down the tabby's cheek. "Did that door not shut all the way again?"
Another meow. She took it as confirmation.
"You're a talkative one, aren't you?"
He purred and headbutted her knuckles. She cracked another smile.
"You and your master are a perfect match then."
"Well, I'm glad we have your blessing!"
Elissa jumped and swore, sending poor Pounce scrambling under her bed and making her profusely grateful she hadn't been holding the wine bottle.
"Anders!"
"Is there any particular reason you're auditioning to be the next Oghren?"
"I'll have you know I resent that." She scoffed and sank heavily back into her desk chair. "And what, getting captured by a talking darkspawn isn't good for you, mother?"
Anders grinned. "Ooh, I take it you're an irritable drunk, then!"
She grunted and swiped for the bottle. "You're being irritating, so we're even."
"Ouch. Here, give me that." He deftly snatched the half empty bottle from her loose grip and took a long swallow.
"Hey!"
"Never a good idea to drink alone," he explained breezily, "Plus you get all the good wine! But you usually share, so..." He took another pull before passing the bottle back to her. "...must be a reason."
Elissa swirled the dregs of the wine miserably, scowling to hold back tears. This was why she didn't usually drink. Loss of her careful control was a luxury she couldn't afford. More so than ever now that she was Queen. And Warden-Commander. And Arlessa. And probably twelve other titles she could list in a trice if her head wasn't so fuzzy.
"It's stupid," she muttered, "I know it's stupid."
Another insufferable grin from her companion. "Knew there was something."
"Shut up."
"Shutting up won't make me less right." He waited briefly for a response and rolled his eyes when none was forthcoming, "Come on, you already admitted it exists. You're halfway to spitting it out."
She grimaced and drained the rest of the wine in lieu of answering.
"You're not going to make me guess, are you?"
She remained stubbornly silent. Anders clambered into the armchair across from her and perched cross-legged.
"All right then." He steepled his fingers, "You already mentioned the business with the darkspawn imprisonment, so I'm guessing that's not it..."
"I miss Alistair," Elissa blurted abruptly. She cursed and stared down the neck of the empty bottle. "Shit. The King, I mean."
To his credit, Anders didn't gloat. Knowing him, that would come later.
"Not that I'm...familiar with the whole marriage thing..." He arced a short spark between his hands for emphasis, "...mage and all. But, isn't the whole 'pining for your spouse' thing...normal?"
Elissa shrugged. The wine bottle tipped from her fingers and clattered noisily away, pursued by Ser Pounce. "Didn't even get a week after the wedding before I had to come up here...." she grumbled.
"So...take a couple days off and ride to Denerim. You're the boss. Make up for lost honeymoon time."
He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she kicked his shin.
"I don't leave problems for someone else to solve," she said dryly. That was for the Loghains, dwarven assemblies, and Knight-Commander Greagoirs of the world. By now, she was a Maker-damned professional at solving every world-rending issue that came her way.
Except the riot. Perhaps she was losing her touch.
“Besides," she continued, "He's probably not even there. Trouble in the bannorn. We write when we can." She tilted her head back against the chair and blinked hard. "It's not the same."
This was the longest they'd been apart since they'd met. She had grown so used to his warmth as a constant presence. Strong and protective as they slept, loving and teasing when they traveled. Building her belief in herself when she faltered. Always finding some excuse to touch or hold her. Even the six months in the capital following the Blight hadn't changed them much. Less time to do as they pleased, certainly, but still just as joined at the hip. It had driven Eamon absolutely mad before they married.
She dragged both hands through her hair and groaned before sitting upright. "I don't like being away from him. Especially not this long."
Anders' easy smile cooled several degrees. "It's been a month and you're able to write him. Don't know if I'd consider that long."
That piqued the interest of Elissa's sluggish brain. "I see." She tilted her head, "So who is she?"
Anders froze a bare second before giving her an amused, but appraising, glance. "Perceptive, aren't you?"
"Wouldn't have survived otherwise." She smirked lightly and leaned her elbows on her knees, "And now you're avoiding my question. Who is she?"
"He."
She blinked once before inclining her head with a smile. The two of them were more similar than she thought; she should have picked up on that earlier. "He then," she amended easily, "Who is he?"
Anders smiled faintly. “His name is Karl. We were in the same Circle just before our Harrowings.”
”Where is he now?”
”Still Kirkwall, I assume. Got transferred over to that Circle nearly...” His eyes glazed as he frowned, “Maker, has it been fifteen years? Nearly.”
Elissa’s stomach plummeted. A strangled noise escaped her lips on a sympathetic wince. “Fifteen years?”
”Well, a year or two since I’ve heard from him at any rate. We wrote too, when we could bribe templars to send letters.” His expression flickered and cleared like a cloud blocking the sun. He forced a chuckle. “Always insisted on reading them, the filthy bastards. Anyway, couldn’t send anything during the Blight. No money and nothing to write on. If he even heard about it, Karl probably thinks I died with Uldred and most of the others.”
“If he heard? I don’t think so.” Elissa turned and rifled through her desk for a clean sheet of parchment and a fresh inkwell. She nodded in satisfaction and shoved the items into Anders’ lap. She very nearly tilted far enough over to spill herself onto the floor.
”There!” she declared, leaning back and crossing an ankle over her knee, “Write him tonight. I’ll send a messenger in the morning. Maybe we can sail off on a recruiting mission once all this talking darkspawn nugshit is squared.”
Anders laughed. “I don’t think Karl would be keen on the whole ‘drink this and see if you die in thirty years or thirty seconds’ thing.”
I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one.
Elissa frowned and shook her head. "I don’t conscript,” she said flatly, “Not if I can help it. If you thought he’d be useful to the Wardens and he was interested, that would be another story.”
”So," he bent in half to scoop Pounce from the floor. The kitten tunneled contentedly into the collar of his robes. "...am I just the lucky exception to your rule?”
”That templar was going to execute you the moment I released you to her custody." She shrugged. "Conscription was the only way to keep you alive. I would have tried to convince you to join anyway. I saw you fight, and I saw you heal.” She had nearly lost an ear to a hurlock arrow on their way to the top of the Keep. He had attached it good as new, practically before she'd noticed it was missing.
"At any rate," she bounced her foot once, "The offer still stands. I'd even say we could try to negotiate leave to have him come to Amaranthine as a consultant, but Kirkwall is still pitching a fit about the Fereldan refugees that fled there during the Blight." She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Maker forbid they fed a few more mouths while we took care of the Archdemon completely alone, but..." She flung her hand in the air dismissively, "No one said politics made sense. Stingy damned Marchers."
A short silence passed, broken only by Ser Pounce's loud purring.
Elissa fished for a second bottle of wine behind the bed. She rolled it between her palms without reaching for the corkscrew. "Were you angry with him for leaving?"
Anders' chuckle had a sharp edge to it. "He didn't exactly have a choice. It was more frustrating that he gave up. Ended things before he left 'for my own good'."
"I...see." She set the wine on her desk and drew her knees loosely to her chest. She had accepted the Warden-Commander posting. She could have deferred to someone else, particularly in light of her political duties. But who would they have installed in her stead? All the other Fereldan Wardens were dead at the time; the First Warden would have doubtless sent someone from Orlais. That would have gone over well.
Anders hummed thoughtfully and snapped his fingers. "So that's it, isn't it?"
"What's it?"
"That Warden widow. That's what's got you so gloomy."
"Maybe." She flicked a bit of filth off her knee and grimaced. "Not just that."
"Don't tell me you think His Royal Smittenness is taking mistresses." He reached over and dislodged the cork from the new bottle with a practiced hand and an eye roll. "Anyone with eyes could see how likely that is."
"No..." She scowled and reached pointedly for the wine. He moved it out of reach. "But I still left. How far does love go when you up and abandon someone?"
"It counts as abandonment if you plan on coming back?" He stretched his free hand to scratch under Pounce's chin and tsked. "Or are you planning to send a surprise request for annulment in your next letter? Now, Commander, that's just cold."
"Hilarious." She used his distraction to reclaim her wine, sloshing a fair amount on the stones as she sat back with a wry smile. "But you have a point."
"Always do, don't I?"
"Shut it." Elissa snorted and took a perilously long drink before setting the bottle between them. "But you are right. About it not being forever. And about him being close. We're luckier than most. It's...hard to see that sometimes."
It was meant as an apology as much as anything. Elissa had led quite a charmed life before the Blight. It was easy to discount that, and the protection her newfound position offered, after a year of being hunted.
"What was that you were humming?" Anders asked suddenly, "Before I came in?"
"Hm?" She shook her head. "Oh. It's...a silly song my mother used to sing to us as children. Father swore up and down she'd made it up herself, but Fergus never believed her."
"And it helps?"
"Sometimes. I'd rather hear her sing it again. Obviously." She ground a knuckle into her brow and frowned at the floor. "Always thought I'd sing it to my own children. Someday." She flicked the griffon on her chest piece irritably. "Figures."
"Isn't a month a little soon to give up on that?"
Elissa took a pointed gulp of the wine. "Try a year."
He winced and took the bottle back. "I...right."
"I take it that's just as bad as I thought?"
"Not...necessarily..."
"I haven't had a cycle since I took my Joining," she said bluntly, "Almost two years."
Anders' low whistle was not encouraging.
"Okay," he acknowledged, "That's...not great. But I'm no expert."
She arched a brow. "You're a healer."
"That concern usually goes the other way in the towers. Might be different for healers on assignment outside, but--"
"You were too much of a pain in the ass to let out?"
"Or it seemed pointless when I just kept letting myself out."
She snorted, more than ready for a change in conversation. "Well. I'm glad it finally stuck, then."
"Hey, I'll drink to that!" He raised the bottle dramatically. "To permanent escapes, dead darkspawn, and the Commander's wine stash!"
Elissa laughed and raised an invisible glass to join him. "And fast messengers, dumb luck, and new best friends!"
"Aw, I'm your best friend? That's cute."
"You're a best friend. Don't you get cocky."
"Yes, ser!"