There and Back Again Ch. 170

Chapter One Hundred Seventy: Sleep Like a Baby

The rest of the day was better. We ate, toured more of the Castle, and met about a thousand people wandering the halls. A few were minor nobility from the Highever area just waiting for the banquet; some were staying in the castle, others in inns in the town itself, and a few lived near enough to visit for the day. We met servants, knights, and guards, and two young mages who were empoyed by Fergus as his court healers – and the elderly Chantry Mother who watched over them and held services in the small chapel where Mother Mallol had died.

Despite recognising some of the places – and the nausea-inducing vertigo that it induced when I did – it was a pleasant afternoon. Fergus had fallen back to a polite vagueness when it became obvious I wasn't going to break down because of his callous behaviour, and Aedan, Zevran, and Alistair were enjoyable company as we explored. I remembered no one by name – and fervently hoped there wouldn't be a test later.

And that's when I discovered that supper was supposed to be a banquet – and that my husband and I were the guests of honour.

*****

"Honour," I scoffed, sitting on a cushionless bench in front of a vanity mirror in the suite that used to belong to my parents. "As if. He hates me – more like guest of dishonour. Or guest of disbelief, or distrust, or disgust..."

"All the 'dis' words. Yes, dear." Alistair rolled his eyes for probably the fifth time in the last half hour.

I picked up a makeup brush my maid had sent with me – I had only the barest idea what to do with it, if I was honest – and gestured with it instead of rubbing it along my cheekbones. "He's trying to trap me, or perhaps just humiliate me. Show me up as something other than I claimed. I use the wrong fork at dinner and he'll try to claim it means I'm a fraud."

"You won't use the wrong fork. I saw some of those ettiquette lessons with Seneschal Varel." He got off the bed behind me and came over to kiss the top of my head. "Besides, who cares what he thinks? By marriage, you're a princess anyway. He can't change that – it doesn't depend on your bloodline, but mine. He's not going to convince me or Aedan, so what's the worst that can happen?" He took the useless brush from my hand and put it back on the vanity. "You look perfect just the way you are. Stop messing with this stuff."

I sighed. "I know he can't do anything to me. But..." I turned and pressed my bare face against his flat stomach for a moment, and Alistair stroked my neck softly, waiting.

"But...?"

I looked up sadly. "But I want him to like me. To believe me. I want him to stop trying to hurt me at every opportunity. But nothing I can do seems to improve his opinion of me – he won't let it. Why did he even invite us?" I looked around the room I'd never thought to see in real life, and shuddered. "He can be so cruel. I didn't see any sign of that in the game."

Alistair looked around the same room, though his expression was pure puzzlement. "You never did explain why putting us in this beautiful room is so unkind." He took my hands and pulled me up and away from the uncomfortable bench and the little wavy mirror.

I sighed. "We don't have time right now."

"You promised, Sierra."

"I will! Just...after, okay?" The last thing I needed was an angry Alistair sitting next to our host at supper.

His acceptance was significantly more skeptical this time, but he nodded and led me to the door. "Time to face the music." I could tell, for all his reassurances, that he wasn't any happier about it than I.

Dinner was strained and awkward, despite the best efforts of Zevran and Alistair to lighten the mood; Aedan was clearly still furious with Fergus, and I had to suppress a flinch every time my liege lord looked my way. It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if we hadn't been sitting at the head table, up on a raised dais where every other guest could see us clearly. It made it impossible to just withdraw into myself and eat in silence.

The hall was beautifully decorated, with streamers and ribbons everywhere, and every table was full. The nobles I'd met earlier sat at a few tables together watching us sharply, but there were also prominent merchants, artisans, and other notable people from Highever, and all of them looked as though we were there for their sole entertainment. I wondered if they'd heard about the problems between us, or perhaps just gawking at a bastard Prince and his unknown wife was enough.

Zevran was the only elf seated at the banquet; there were elves serving the meal, but none were guests. I shouldn't have been surprised, but somehow I'd hoped Highever would be different than everywhere else. The Antivan didn't seem bothered, though, chatting with Fergus and Alistair as though it was nothing unusual. He was looking handsome in a loose silk shirt over tight black pants, and the swooning of all the women he was introduced to probably helped him feel a little more comfortable too.

No one else sat at the head table; Nate and some of the other nobility – apparently Alfstanna was coming too – weren't expected until the next day. This was only the pre-event feast, so our table remained half-empty, which just amplified the awkwardness. In the end, Fergus, Zevran, and Alistair carried the conversation, while I just listened quietly and picked at the rich food we were presented with. It was probably the first time in a year when I'd felt like I had no appetite.

After dinner Alistair and I declined an invitation to join Fergus for a nightcap; I wasn't honestly even certain if the invitation was sincere, or perhaps just an opportunity for him to be unkind again. Claiming fatigue from the journey, I hugged Aedan and reassured him that we were fine staying in the guest quarters we'd been assigned, and then my husband and I retired to our room. I managed not to feel lightheaded as I walked through the corridors I knew had been bathed in blood the night my parents had been killed, but I was still relieved to close the door to the hallway behind me and sink onto the bed with no one but my husband to see my weakness. I kicked off my shoes, and Alistair sat beside me, rubbing one of my sore feet softly.

"So?" Alistair prompted after a few quiet moments.

I scooted up the bed to lean against the headboard, and he sat beside me with his arm around my shoulders. "Did you hear Fergus say these used to be the family quarters?"

He nodded, puzzled expression unchanged.

"As in, this is where they lived. This was Bryce and Eleanor's room. Aedan's and Fergus's rooms were next door." I waved in the direction of each. Alistair curled a piece of my hair around his finger absently as he continued nodding. "That night...this is where Aedan was attacked. Where he found Orianna and Oren...after. I wasn't there, but I recognise it. This is where Rendon Howe ruined Aedan's life. The last time I saw the corridor outside, it was painted in blood."

His expression darkened as I spoke. "He brought you here to test you, see if you'd recognise it. And now he's making you sleep here." He stiffened. "I made you come here – you didn't want to, but I said—" I knew I had to stop him before things spiralled and he did something we'd both regret.

"It's okay," I soothed, leaning in to claim a quick kiss. "It's not your fault, and it's going to be okay. It just took me by surprise, that's all. I knew I'd have to see places where people I knew had died, but I wasn't expecting...this."

"We'll leave. Stay at an inn or insist on a different room. You don't have to put up with—"

"No, no. Really. It's fine now – and nothing bad happened in this specific room, anyway. I definitely wouldn't have agreed to stay in Fergus' old room." I shook my head and wrinkled my nose. "Besides, I won't give Fergus the satisfaction, frankly."

He finally chuckled, pulling me closer. "No one could ever claim you weren't stubborn."

I grinned. "You love it." I hiked my skirts up and threw a leg over his lap, straddling him and slanting my mouth over his softly. He responded in kind, his lips moving gently over mine, his fingers weaving into my hair to hold me tenderly. His tongue teased at my lips in little tickly touches, but never pressed his advantage to deepen the kiss. I could tell he was leaving it to me to decide how much further to go – but that wasn't ever a question he needed to ask.

I pulled back a little bit and peppered little kisses over his lips and chin. "I know how you could distract me from thinking about Fergus anymore," I suggested, then nipped his lower lip sharply until he gasped.

"Oh?" He was breathless with arousal, his erection pressing against my core through multiple layers of fabric, and he groaned as I ground my hips against him. "Your desire is my command, my dear."

I kissed him again and then pulled him until we were falling, his weight pinning me to the bed, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. "Prove it."

*****

Between the glorious, enthusiastic exercise at bedtime, and the sweet, sleepy, middle-of-the-night second round that interrupted any dreams I might have had, I woke up remarkably well-rested and sanguine, despite the achy soreness that had me downing a healing potion before I could even drag myself out of bed. To Alistair's credit, all he did was give me a smug, self-satisfied smile that left me giggling, and steal a passionate kiss that had me almost dragging him back into the bed.

Finally getting ready, we met Aedan, Zevran, and Fergus in the family dining room for breakfast. Aedan had mysteriously informed me the night before that we had some sort of errand outside the castle for the day, so I was dressed appropriately in my Archdemon leather armour; Fergus raised his eyebrows skeptically when we came through the door, leaving weapons and cloaks on an unoccupied side table before sitting down to eat.

I curtsied to my liege lord politely as Alistair bowed stiffly and then pulled out my chair chivalrously. "Good morning, your Grace."

Aedan stuck his tongue out at me, earning a chuckle, and Zevran sent me a grin that was the expression equivalent of a peck on the cheek. I grinned back, and they both seemed to relax slightly.

"Your Highness," Fergus replied, smirking slightly at my usual grimace. I hate that title. "I trust you slept well?"

I struggled not to roll my eyes. "Like a baby, thank you."

Alistair dropped into the seat next to mine, leaning in to whisper, "That's how babies sleep?" in a husky voice that made my insides clench in reminder. I snorted and elbowed him in the gut, Zevran coughed discreetly, and pretty soon the three of us were stifling giggles as Aedan covered his face in horror, and Fergus just continued to watch us in bemused puzzlement.

"Did I miss something? Please, do fill me in."

Zevran opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced with a gasp when I kicked him sharply under the table; I squeezed Alistair's forearm desperately, hoping the sudden pain of my nails sinking into his skin would keep him from answering.

"Oh, you know," I responded vaguely, mind racing for an excuse – any excuse, "Alistair was just reminding me that, um, babies don't sleep particularly well, so it's a bit of a silly saying. 'Sleep like a baby', really!"

Aedan nodded sagely, but a little too quickly; Alistair picked up the first thing off the table that he could reach and shoved it in his mouth before anyone could expect him to talk. Fergus' suspicious expression didn't relent in the least, but I was saved as Zevran turned and changed the subject, engaging him in a conversation about the holiday market expected to open later in the day, and the security precautions he'd taken to limit theft and destruction during the celebrations. I could just kiss that elf! And he probably wouldn't even complain.

The rest of breakfast was unremarkable; food was eaten and serious conversation avoided, while Fergus continued eyeing the four of us in our armour, clearly hoping someone would clue him in but not wanting to ask. I'd like to know too, so he's getting no help from me. When we were done, Aedan excused us and promised we would meet up with Fergus in the town proper to open the celebrations after lunch, and dragged us outside.

Alistair and I each had a guard following us; we all ended up in the stables where Aedan commandeered six horses. The grooms couldn't trip over themselves fast enough to saddle the animals for us, and before I knew it we were riding out past the castle gates, through the town, and out into the open country beyond. It was cold, though the snow was largely packed down by traffic, and it didn't slow us down much. My armour was runed for warmth, so at least I felt comfortable, though Zevran complained bitterly. It seemed the assassin had no idea what we were doing either, and that made me feel a little better.

Aedan left the main road once we were out of sight of the city's walls, and we headed north across snow-covered fields. It was slower going, with the horses having to pick their way through untouched snow, but Aedan didn't falter – it was clear he knew exactly where he was going, even if he hadn't shared that information with the rest of us. I'd given up on frustration. It was beautiful, the few trees bowed low by the heavy weight of snow in their branches and everything else an unbroken blanket of pure white; I was spending the day with my favourite people in Thedas, and I wasn't being scowled at by Fergus. I resolved to enjoy myself and wait and see what my brother had planned.

It wasn't long until we reached the edge of a cliff looking down over the coast below. The ocean was a dull gray broken only by small white waves breaking on the shore; the water extended past the horizon, and I couldn't help but feel incredibly...small. I'd never seen an ocean before, apart from the crowded, smelly dock in Denerim; growing up in the Canadian prairies and relying on student loans for living expenses didn't provide me with many opportunities to see the world. This was enormous and powerful and incredibly wild, and it took my breath away.

"Aedan," I gasped as he took my hand. "It's so..."

He smiled warmly. "I know." He gestured to a small divot in the snow on the edge of the cliff. "Too bad it's winter – there's a stairwell carved into the rock there, and I could show you the beach where we used to have picnics and bonfires. We'd play in the waves, and there's even a little dock – Mother would teach us to sail on quiet days in a little sailboat she captained, and Father would curl up on deck and insist it was our duty to get him back to Highever – he was no sailor. Fergus and I would fight over who got to man the rudder, and take turns trimming the sails. Mother would teach us how to tie knots and climb the rigging safely." His smile turned sad as he sighed. "This is where you should have grown up." He let me look my fill, but finally, reluctantly, tugged my hand. "Come on."

We dismounted and followed him through the snow; I was grateful to be following the men, because the hardened white stuff was up to my thighs and wading through it would have been beyond me for more than a few feet. Here I thought I was in shape! Even Alistair was puffing as he and Aedan took turns breaking in a path towards a copse of trees near the cliff. Our bodyguards followed at a discreet distance – close enough to keep an eye on us, but far enough to grant some privacy. At a gesture from Aedan – and reassuring nods from both Alistair and I – both of them waited for us at the edge of the trees where they could watch our mounts but still hear us if we called for help.

Once we reached the small forest, the going was both easier and harder at the same time; the trees meant less snow had reached the ground and the wind hadn't crusted it over with ice, but if we weren't careful, snow would fall down from the branches above, burying us. We stepped cautiously, evaluating the branches overhead critically – and still had a few near-misses. Aedan was buried to his shoulders once – which was amusing, once we'd ensured he was in no danger; it took Alistair and Zevran both to partially dig and partially boost him out of the drift he was stuck in.

Finally after a slow and uncomfortable slog, we found ourselves coming into a small clearing, open to the cliff and ocean on one side and surrounded by trees on the other three. The wind had blown most of the snow off the edge of the cliff, so it was only calf-deep, protected by the surrounding trees. It was a beautiful spot, but what had my gaze riveted was not the ocean view, but the statue that stood in the middle of the clearing. It was made of marble, or maybe some sort of stone, but pure white; it must have been seven feet tall, beginning with a solid square base, rising up to what was obviously a body, the legs carved roughly but the precision increasing as it rose, ending in a highly detailed head I could only see from behind, sporting a recognisable pony tail. I knew, from the distinctive armour, the unique weapons crossed over the figure's back, and the hair...I knew without looking what the face would look like.

Stepping forward almost as if in a trance, I rounded the beautiful statue to see the face I'd missed for so long, the thick beard covering his chin, the expression that wasn't quite a smile, but still managed to convey warmth and compassion along with nobility and honour. I hadn't even noticed the tears streaking down my face until the cold wind nearly froze them in place.

I wiped the tears away irritably, then pulled my gaze from the statue's face to look down at the base, where Aedan was busy digging out the snow so we could see better. When he stepped back, I saw that there was a plaque with only a few words:

Duncan, the first Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens

Mentor, Friend...Family.

In Death, Sacrifice.

Alistair joined me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders; I curled into him and hugged him tightly, despite his bulky armour. I reached out blindly and Aedan took my hand, his warm fingers interlacing with mine.

"Thank you," I finally choked out, looking up to see my brother smiling at me fondly. Alistair was equally effected, his face pale, his lashes damp with unshed tears. Zevran stood to the side awkwardly, until I gestured and he came closer. I dragged him in until the four of us huddled together in the snow, sniffling and leaning against each other.

After a moment, something occurred to me. "What, Zev, no cheeky comments?"

Alistair snickered while Aedan just sighed. Zevran tutted at me with a smirk.

"Ah, cara mia, I mustn't allow myself to become that predictable, yes?"

I threw back my head and laughed. "Oh no, that would be terrible."

Feeling somewhat less fragile after a good laugh, I pulled away to look at the statue again. "It's beautiful, Aedan. How did you do this?"

"You can thank your husband, as well, actually." Alistair and I both looked at him in surprise. "What did you think I wanted that drawing for, anyway?" he continued.

Alistair's jaw dropped. "My drawing...?"

Aedan nodded. "Queen Sereda was kind enough to recommend a sculptor – but he'd only met Duncan once. He used your drawing...and, well, this was the outcome."

Alistair looked absolutely dumbfounded – shocked completely speechless. His mouth hung open, but no sound emerged. I knew how honoured he would feel that his drawing was used – but also how unworthy, given his history of terrible self-esteem. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"You're amazing, you know that?" I leaned up to kiss his cheek. "No one else could have done that – made a drawing so lifelike that a sculptor could use it as a model. I love you."