Chapter Seven: Matters of the Heart

Previously: Shadows of Highever

It was hard to explain what Alistair felt when he saw Elissa. When she first strode into the great hall, she was like some sort of thunder goddess, accompanied by her unkillable hound. Their entrance shook the room, and it was like being struck by lightning. All of him was awake, alive. Even his fingertips were tingling.

His breath caught in his chest as he headed to the kitchens. For a moment there, he feared he'd actually faint.

 

He couldn't say what it was. He wasn't sure. He didn't know if it was love, lust, worship, or all three. Elissa had a way about her, commanding fear and awe in equal measure. When they'd first met, her years of training already greatly surpassed his. And despite being the senior Warden in their party, everyone naturally deferred to her, including Alistair.

 

In battle, she had no rival. In decision-making, she brooked no hesitation. Her conviction was unyielding.

 

"Come, boy," he said. Alistair absolutely refused to call the beast "Baby." The two of them got along well enough. Baby was actually a fairly gentle creature outside of battle. He was sensitive and affectionate even.

 

"What is that doing in here?" the head cook exclaimed upon seeing them.

 

"Another Warden has come to Redcliffe," Alistair told her. "This is her war hound. He needs any spare meat you've got, and some bones to gnaw on later."

 

The cook nodded, warily watching the hound. She fed Baby, who ate voraciously e while Alistair gently stroked his head and ears. When the hound was done, they headed out into the gardens, so the beast could empty its bowels.

 

Winter was still new; the air was heavy with cold but light with snow. Alistair could see his breath with every exhale. It was sunset at Redcliffe, but the skies were gray and clouded. Even so, the gardens were still a beautiful sight, with various winter flowers providing a pop of color against the snow.

 

"Is that a Mabari war hound?"

 

Alistair turned to see his host and guardian, Arl Eamon Guerrin. The lord was accompanied by his brother and heir, Bann Teagan Guerrin. Eamon was an aging man, his long braided hair gone gray. Teagan was a man in his prime, with long reddish hair.

 

The two men watched in awe as the war hound sauntered off.

 

"Yes, sir," Alistair answered with a slight bow of his head. He looked back at the beast. "We had them with us at Ostagar. This was the only one to survive."

 

"So it's true then," Teagan said. "Elissa Cousland has come to Redcliffe."

 

"Her appearance was sudden, my lord," Alistair rushed to explain. He didn't want them thinking he was inviting people into their home without permission. "I suspect the Teyrn may have summoned her."

 

 "To what end?" Eamon asked.

 

Alistair shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I think... I worry they might be discussing me, sir."

 

The brothers exchanged knowing looks.

 

"I swear I didn't tell them!" Alistair said. "The Teyrn sort of just... figured it out on his own."

 

"As I hoped he would," Eamon mused, nodding slowly. "It seems the next phase of our plan can finally begin."

 

Alistair was lost. His head swiveled back and forth between the two lords. "Plan, sir?"

 

Eamon was amused. "My dear boy, you are a Grey Warden. I pulled you off the front lines during a Blight. Did you not wonder why?"

 

"Of course, sir," Alistair said, blinking. "I just... didn't understand why."

 

Eamon and Teagan glanced around, as though making sure no one was listening.

 

"My dear boy," the old man said, "your brother died without an heir. His widow's father has usurped the throne. The country is facing civil war in addition to the Blight... and you still have no idea why?"

 

***

 

"You had a lover in Highever?" Fergus asked, pouring his sister a cup of wine.

 

"You caught that, did you?" Elissa accepted the cup, and leaned back against the couch. Respecting her newfound boundaries, Fergus smoothly retreated to the far end. 

 

He gave a wry smirk. "I thought you were bound and determined to avoid the company of men. Or was your lover a woman?"

 

"It was Dairren," she told him bluntly.

 

He raised an eyebrow. "Lady Landra's son? You know that woman got intolerably drunk and flirted with me?"

 

"I do know," Elissa said nodding. "Mother invited them over after yelling at me about doing my duty. I had every intention of resisting, but..."

 

Fergus's blue eyes glinted mischievously. "But?"

 

"He'd been fostered in Orlais for years and he came so... refined," Elissa sighed. "He was wearing these dark orange robes and smelled of this incredible perfume. We talked for hours and he was so... I don't know... interesting? He had read and traveled far more than I had. One thing led to another, and I was creeping out of his bedchamber in the middle of the night." She mumbled that last part, avoiding eye contact.

 

Fergus laughed. The Elissa he remembered would never do such a thing, but he took it as a good sign that she had.

 

"You wanted to marry him?" he asked.

 

She nodded. "As we lay together, I thought I could be with him. I thought we'd live in the country and have many children. I told myself it didn't matter if he was such a fancy boy. I believed I could be warrior enough for both of us." She glanced down, as though fighting some deep pain. Her black warpaint glowed in the firelight. "He was the first to die when Arl Howe laid siege."

 

The siblings drank in silence for a time. Fergus didn't want to talk about that night anymore than she did, so instead, they listened to the crackling of the firewood and the sounds of castle life beyond the door.

 

"It's how I got through the first few months, you know," Elissa suddenly confessed. "Whenever it was cold, or if I had trouble sleeping, I closed my eyes and remembered the warmth of his touch, the smell of his perfume."

 

Fergus raised an eyebrow. "Just the first few months? What happened later on?"

 

Elissa snorted. "Alistair and his inappropriate sense of humor. You know, we could be lost in the middle of the Brecilian Forest while hunting werewolves, and that man would suddenly tell a story about passing gas during a Chantry choir recital."

 

Her brother laughed, eyes lighting up. "Sounds like you two have been on quite the adventure."

 

She nodded. "It's been strange not having him by my side these last few months. The insanity at the Circle with all those Templars might have upset him, but he would've loved the ales of Orzammar."

 

"Your camaraderie sounds strong," he observed.

 

"It had to be," she replied, shrugging. "It's how soldiers get through the day." 

 

"Do you ever still think of Dairren?"

 

She looked down, grumbling, "What's the point? He's dead, is he not? Besides, I don't think he'd much care for the woman I've become."

 

But Alistair does, Fergus noted. As far as he was concerned, there was no need to openly press the issue. The odd couple was already giving him more than enough to work with.

 

Instead, he simply offered, "More wine?"