Chapter Six: Shadows of Highever

Previously: Secrets of Redcliffe

 

"Alistair, my friend," Fergus chuckled, shaking his head, "you are a terrible chess player."

 

"I didn't learn to play until I joined the Chantry!" the young Warden protested. "Need I remind you once again that I didn't have a noble upbringing?"

 

It was early winter's afternoon at Redcliffe Castle. They were sitting in the great hall, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the grandeur of the room. There were guards and servants present, so they couldn't speak openly about Alistair's parentage. Rather than press the issue, Fergus began to reset the board.

 

"Then I have much to teach you," he said. "I've been playing since I was six."

 

"How nice for you," Alistair replied, scowling slightly. "I was already working in the stables."

 

"More ale, my lords?" a young maid offered, carrying a pewter jug. She winked at Fergus, who patiently smiled back at her. He and Alistair raised their tankards for her to refill.

 

"You can leave the jug," Alistair told her. When she left, he leaned toward Fergus and said lowly, "I'll never get used to the attention either."

 

Fergus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You've never indulged the... company of maids?" he asked lightly, keeping his voice light.

 

Alistair shook his head. "They never liked me that way when I was here. Didn't like the way I smelled. And besides, they only had eyes for Teagan."

 

"And now?"

 

Alistair looked uncomfortable. "Now it's just awkward."

 

"What about tavern wenches?" Fergus asked. "Do you ever visit brothels?"

 

The young Warden made a nervous sound, like a snort crossed with a giggle. His face flushed as he shook his head. "My lord, I can't believe you'd ask me that."

 

"You're a man and a soldier," Fergus said, shrugging. "I'd understand."

 

"I never could afford a proper brothel," Alistair admitted. "Also, the Arl didn't raise me that way. But taverns..." He didn't finish, instead flashing Fergus a look.

 

The teyrn grinned, snickering. Before they could begin the game anew, the double doors of the hall swung wide and in came Elissa Cousland, like a winter storm. She was in full armor, her eyes paint black, hair and shoulders dusted in snow. Beside her, her war hound Baby sauntered in, his tale wagging.

 

Her presence swallowed the room. Fergus noticed the guards seemed to stand a little straighter. Some even greeted her with slight, brisk nods, even though Fergus was certain they had no idea who she was. The servants hastily moved out of her way as she strode towards her brother and friend, looking neither left nor right and not missing a step.

 

Fergus and Alistair were dumbfounded, glancing at each other before staring back at her. She walked to their table, picked up Alistair's tankard and drained it halfway.

 

"Andraste's holy knickers," she sighed loudly, eyes closed. "I thought I'd never taste a proper ale again."

 

Her brother gawked at her; this wasn't the Elissa he remembered. She was tougher, and even her accent sounded a little rougher than before. They'd been apart for less than a year and yet it seemed a lifetime.

 

"Sister," Fergus gasped, glancing from her to Alistair and back again. "We weren't expecting you?"

 

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Weren't you?"

 

Alistair awkwardly rose from the table. "It's good to see you, Warden," he greeted, somewhat shakily. "H-H-How was Soldier's Peak?"

 

Fergus was baffled to see the young Warden so flustered. He'd never heard Alistair stutter before. 

 

"About as cold as an Orlesian's twat and twice as miserable," Elissa replied without blinking.

 

Alistair burst out laughing while Fergus stared, shocked into speechlessness. He'd never heard her speak in such a manner.

 

"Let me grab you a chair," Alistair offered.

 

"Actually," Fergus interjected, slowly rising to his feet. "My sister has come a long way and we haven't seen each other in almost a year. Do you mind if we retire to my suite?"

 

Alistair was caught off guard, but recovered. "Not at all," he told them, looking back and forth between the siblings. "If either of you need me, I'll be in my room."

 

"Great," Elissa said, glancing down. "You can feed Baby. Poor hound is starving." 

 

Alistair left with war hound, casting one last glance at Elissa. Fergus gestured for her to follow him. His heart pounded as he led her through the halls and up the stairs to his rooms.

 

"Arl Eamon gave me these rooms," he told her. "I had one prepared for you."

 

"And yet just now, you pretended you were surprised to see me," she mused, closing the door behind her. "Right before you whisked me away. Does the Arl himself even know you summoned me?"

 

"I had good reason to send for you," Fergus assured her.

 

Elissa scoffed, incredulous. "Do you know how many days' walk it is from Soldier's Peak? Do you know how cold it is? Are you aware there's darkspawn roaming the land?"

 

Her voice seemed deeper and louder, much more commanding than he remembered. It suddenly occurred to him that despite their tragedy and separation, they hadn't embraced upon seeing each

other. Worse still, he felt almost afraid to try to touch her now.

 

"For months now, I've heard nothing but the legend of the great Warden Elissa," he reminded her. "I doubt there's anyone -- or anything -- that you can't handle out there. You probably drew less attention traveling alone."

 

"True," she admitted, shrugging casually. She slowly moved about the sitting room, casually touching the furnishings before settling on the couch near the fireplace. "Hitched a ride with a few caravans, got to sleep in a decent camp. Some of them didn't even charge me. So what is this about?" she pivoted suddenly. "Arl Howe? Or that massive cunt Loghain?"

 

Her newfound vulgarity hit Fergus like a blow to the chest but he didn't show it. "Neither," he replied, coming to sit next to her. "It's about Alistair." 

 

Elissa chuckled, leaning back into the softness of the couch. "You summoned me from across the country for fucking Alistair? What is it this time? New clothes too itchy? Can't fall asleep without a lullaby? What the fuck have you people even been doing down here all this time?"

 

"Sister," Fergus said patiently, slightly raising an eyebrow, "your friend Alistair is of royal blood. King Cailin was his brother."

 

It was Elissa's turn to stare. After a time, she asked, "Are you having a laugh?"

 

Fergus was serious. "I think Arl Eamon plans to call a Landsmeet and present Alistair as the rightful heir."

 

Elissa laughed. "Alistair's mother was a scullery maid, Fergus. He mucked Eamon's stables as a child. He's a fucking Grey Warden. Which of these self-serving shits do you think would actually make him King?"

 

"Arl Eamon's house and ours," he stated resolutely.

 

She scoffed. "Oh please, brother. We have no house. Our name is myth and your title is air."

 

"Yet when I called, you came."

 

She glared at him. "I thought you had news of our enemies. But instead, while I've been fighting, bleeding, starving, and freezing, you've been here, sipping your fine ales by the fire!"

 

"I am the rightful heir to Highever!" he retorted. "You are Elissa Eleanora Cousland -- is there nothing left of you in there besides the Warden?"

 

They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily, their silence only broken by the crackling of the hearth.

 

"I can assure you I am very much myself," Elissa said through clenched teeth. "Do you know how many men I killed at Highever? I didn't even bother to count. I saw our family in pools of their own blood -- your wife, your son, our father, my lover -- all of them dead, and the only reason I didn't cut my own throat was an all-consuming need to cut someone else's."

 

"And you still can," Fergus promised her, deliberately ignoring the disturbing imagery she conjured. He leaned toward her, and noted how she subtly tensed. "But we need allies, sister. If we can help Eamon succeed, you'll have a friend and a Warden on the throne. Alistair can give us back our lands with a simple decree and then, sister, we can make all our enemies pay."

 

She looked at him, trying to quell that rage that made her whole body quiver. Blinking back hot tears, she rasped through gritted teeth, "As the crow flies."

 

Fergus nodded grimly, his jaw tensing. "So do those who owe them a debt."

 

Next: Matters of the Heart