Chapter Ten: I Can Do Blood

Previously: Landsmeet

 

They circled each other for several moments, their footsteps immaculately balanced. Fergus's stomach was in knots, but Elissa? Elissa was perfectly calm.

 

When Loghain struck first, swinging his giant sword, she dodged nimbly, almost like a dancer. In fact, she dodged the first several strikes with ease, not bothering to parry or thrust. Fergus thought he might be imagining things, but it seemed as though...

 

"She's toying with him," Alistair said grimly, as if he were reading Fergus's thoughts.

 

Indeed, she was toying with the older warrior, like a cat with prey. She ducked and weaved and spun on her heels, circling Loghain over and over until he became visibly frustrated.

 

She's a Grey Warden. Fergus didn't understand why it had taken him so long to understand this. It suddenly occurred to him he'd never seen a Warden in action. He'd never even seen a darkspawn, and yet on her first hunt, Elissa killed three of them on her own.

 

Fergus's eyes widened. The old man never stood a chance.

 

And when, like a cat, she finally grew bored, Elissa began to fight. Wardens were taught to win by any means necessary. Elissa didn't care if she was fighting dirty. She punched like a brawling sailor, and wielded her blade like a sellsword from the gutter. She used her elbows, her knees, her feet. Nothing was off limits, and every rule was meant to be broken.

 

Fergus realized that when he watched her practice all those years at Highever, or spar with Alistair at Redcliffe, Elissa had been holding back.

 

I can do blood, she'd said. Apparently, it was an understatement.

 

Elissa soon disarmed Loghain and then began beat him mercilessly. She rained blows and kicks to his face without mercy. All around, nobles watched in horror. It was appalling to see the former hero be treated so cruelly. They gasped and clutched their chests, wincing at each blow.

The fight didn't last long. One could even say it was over before it began. Loghain was soon bloodied, beaten, and on his knees, gasping for breath.

 

"You fight like an Archdemon," the old warrior rasped. "I haven't seen such strength since King Maric himself." He looked Elissa in the eyes. "Make it quick." 

 

She didn't gloat, or demand confess his crimes first. She simply handed her sword to Alistair, stating, "For our King. For Duncan."

 

Alistair took the blade without hesitation, softly echoing, "For our King. For Duncan."

 

Fergus had known Alistair was a good fighter. He'd seen it with his own eyes, but he'd never expected to see Alistair -- gentle, awkward Alistair -- cut off a man's head.

 

It was a single, clean blow to the neck, with minimal blood. The fair-haired Warden didn't even flinch as Loghain's severed head rolled across the floor, to the shocked gasps of the nobles.

 

"It is done," the priestess intoned numbly. "Loghain Mac Tir has fallen. Alistair Theirin is King." She raised a chalice engraved with the mark of the Chantry. "Long live the King."

 

Though they fleetingly hesitated, the nobles' voices thundered in the great hall. "Long live the King!"

 

***

 

Arl Rendon Howe stared speechlessly as guards came to collect Loghain's body.

 

"Put his head on a spike outside the palace walls," Elissa casually ordered.

 

Howe's eyes narrowed as he hissed at her, "How dare you! He was a Teyrn."

 

Elissa snorted softly. "And I am to be your Queen. On a spike," she reiterated to the guards, louder this time.

 

Howe looked between her and Alistair, visibly disgusted. "Your Majesty, you can't possibly be serious!"

 

"'Your Majesty'?" Elissa sneered. "My, that was quick. Did you bend over for Loghain that quickly?"

 

"Enough," Fergus interjected, stepping forward. "I am Fergus Cousland, rightful Teyrn of Highever. Your Majesty, I demand this man's head in payment for the brutal invasion and massacre of Castle Cousland."

 

"I was owed Castle Cousland!" Howe barked. 

 

Elissa held out her hand to get her sword back. "I'll do it. I'm sure we have enough spikes for him and his family."

 

"My children are innocent!" Howe protested, panicking. His eyes beseeched the new King. "Your Majesty, my son Nathaniel and my daughter Delilah played no part in my actions at Highever."

 

"Then kneel," Alistair ordered. "Your life shall pay for theirs."

 

Howe looked at Elissa then back at him. "Your Majesty swears? No harm shall come to my children?"

 

Alistair paused, slightly amused at repeatedly hearing "Your Majesty". The only thing that made the phrase even more ludicrous was the one uttering it.

 

"Rendon Howe," the new King began calmly. "You are forthwith stripped of the Arling of Amaranthine, to be given to your future Queen. Your life, as I mentioned earlier, is forfeit. In exchange, I swear by Andraste that your children will not be harmed."

 

Howe dumbly looked back and forth between Elissa and Alistair, as though not sure what to say or do next.

 

Elissa was helpful. "This would be the part where you kneel, Howe."

 

His whole body was shaking as he glanced around the hall in vain. The nobles now looked at him with overt disdain, as two guards took a step toward him.

 

"I kneel," he hoarsely conceded, slowly dropping to one knee. "I'm kneeling."

 

Elissa grinned, raising her sword. "This is for my family, you traitorous fucking cunt."

 

***

The next few hours were surreal. The new King and his betrothed were escorted to the royal suites. Alistair and Elissa turned round and round, baffled by their new lodgings. They'd never been in bedrooms so large or so beautifully furnished. The servants were already changing the curtains and bedding, and stoking the hearths.

 

"Anora has great taste," Elissa mumbled.

 

"So did my brother," Alistair mumbled as well. 

 

"His Majesty and the lady require baths," Fergus commanded a servant. She was pretty, elven with brown skin and beautiful dark hair. She calmly bowed, then gestured for the other servants to follow her out.

 

While they waited, Eamon presented Alistair with a gift. It was a great sword and a resplendent set of gold armor, accented in black and burgundy.

 

Alistair stared, lightly fingering the sword. "Are these what I think they are?"

 

Eamon proudly nodded. "Your father's sword, and your brother's armor. I had them retrieved from the battlefield at Ostagar."

 

Alistair's eyes widened. "And... my brother's body? Duncan's?"

 

"Cailan was placed upon a pyre, as befitting a King," Eamon gently assured him. His eyes then clouded over. "They could not find the fallen Warden, however."

 

Alistair felt his chest tighten as he went to sit down near the fire. Understanding, Fergus immediately sent for wine.

 

"What happens next?" Alistair asked, voice barely above a whisper as he stared into space.

 

"First, you will be crowned and your enemies rounded up," Eamon stated matter-of-factly. He gently laid the old King's sword down on a table and turned back to the new King. "That can take a while, so in the meantime, Riordan has been summoning Wardens from all across Thedas to finally address the Blight."

 

"Right," Alistair murmured, nodding and looking up at Eamon. "The Blight."

 

"Not your concern anymore," Fergus said quickly. When Alistair was about to protest, he held firm. "You can't risk your life anymore, Alistair. You weren't even supposed to risk it before. You are King of Ferelden now... Your Majesty."

 

Alistair glared at him. "Don't call me that."

 

"Get used to it," Arl Eamon said bluntly. "You're going to be hearing it a lot now." A servant arrived with wine and Fergus poured everyone a goblet.

 

"Now that we've secured the throne," Eamon casually continued, taking a seat near Alistair, "I will summon my wife to court. It's clearly been a long time since Elissa was a lady. She will need a lot of guidance in that department."

 

Elissa was appalled. "I'm standing right fucking here!"

 

"You're going to have to start talking like a Queen," Fergus said. He looked her up and down. "And dressing like one as well. Yes, the two of you are Wardens, and it has made you both great people. But that can only take you so far. You can't curse and blaspheme and joke like you used to. If you want to survive the throne, you have to play the part, play the --"

 

"Politics," Elissa cut him off, scowling. "I know. Believe me, I know." She leaned back against the fireplace mantle. "So that's what's next for me? Isolde laces me up in a gown and tells me how to talk?"

 

"Something like that," Eamon said casually.

 

Elissa and Alistair sighed in unison.