Chapter Twelve: Anora

Previously: Playing Our Parts

 

Fergus Cousland couldn't believe his eyes when Orlando of Bastion walked into his study.

 

"Brother," Fergus gasped, eyes wide and threatening to water. He immediately rounded his desk to embrace his brother-in-law. "How can this be?"

 

Orlando granted him a lukewarm smile. "Your aunt, Margeria, is the new Antivan Ambassador. I volunteered to accompany her." Like his late sister, Orlando had a very thick accent.

 

"Where are you staying?" Fergus asked. "If you like, you can board with me. The King has granted me this suite of rooms."

 

"I would like nothing more," came the weary reply, "but my duties require that I remain by the Ambassador's side." His eyes narrowed slightly as his tone darkened. "Can't have anymore of our noblewomen dying."

 

"Orlando." It was a half-whisper, half-sob. Fergus closed his eyes and shook his head to steel himself. "You are most welcome."

 

"We have much to discuss," Orlando said. He was trying to remain neutral, but his eyes also threatened to tear. "Like what exactly happened to my sister."

 

"I was heading south when the castle was attacked," Fergus replied. He hated talking about this. His eyes were downcast. "It was days before I learned of the treachery."

 

"He sent their bodies back to us, you know," Orlando told him flatly. "Leonor, Oriana... Oren. He sent their corpses to us, packed in salt. And he wrote a mocking note about purging Ferelden noble houses of foreign blood." He paused as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He finally bit out, "Howe likened us to the Blight."

 

Fergus made noise, clutching his stomach as though he were physically ill. He'd been running from this, from the thoughts, the rumors, and now he was getting answers to questions he never wanted to ask. The hot tears ran freely down his face as he clammed his eyes shut to block out of the overwhelming grief.

 

Orlando could see his pain, and felt for him, but didn't comfort him. In the tearful silence, unsaid words hung between them. There was nothing between their families anymore, and they both knew what would happen next. Fergus would have to take a new wife to bear new heirs. She would not be from Antiva; that trust was broken. Fergus would soon have to return to Highever to rebuild his family's legacy, while Orlando would remain in Denerim, fulfilling his new duties.

 

This visit wasn't to say hello. It was to say goodbye.

 

***

 

Margeria slowly paced her new bedchamber, taking it all in. She examined the furnishings, and even ran a finger along a table to check for dust. Elissa watched her, and rolled her eyes. The rooms were impressive, even by Antivan standards, and it annoyed her that Margeria was pretending to be disappointed.

 

"Zia, why are you here?" Elissa bluntly inquired, short on patience.

 

"You are my niece," came the simple reply. The older woman didn't stop her inspection. "You are about to be Queen of a mighty nation. Did you really think I would simply remain in Antiva? Your mother once told me you were politically naive, but I refused to believe it."

 

Elissa held firm. "You know what I mean. Why are you really here?"

 

Margeria looked at her, but didn't stop walking. "Why do you think I am here?"

 

"I don't know," Elissa said honestly. "But I know it's not just for my wedding and coronation."

 

"I do not trust these Fereldan savages," Margeria said casually.

 

"I am Fereldan, Zia," Elissa said irritably.

 

Margeria finally stopped walking as she shot her niece a scathing look. "You are also Antivan and these savages cannot be trusted," the older woman enunciated. "I heard the stories. Fergus was trapped in exile, while you became the great killer of men. And as you were both suffering, not one ally or bannerman who pledged friendship and fealty to House Cousland lifted a finger to avenge your family! Do you know what we do in Antiva when someone murders our friends?"

 

Margeria's words stirred up all the bitter old hatred Elissa had swallowed months ago. She ignored the surge of rage and forced herself to remain calm.  She had thought these same things over the past year, when Arl Howe and Teyrn Loghain were given free reign to betray king and country. Every day she went into that throne room to face the nobles who failed her, failed Ferelden, and the knowledge that she couldn't trust a single one of them made her sick.

 

"So that's why you're here," Elissa snorted, masking her true feelings. "To collect the debts. You're chasing ghosts, Zia. Rendon Howe is dead. I personally cut off his head. Loghain Mac Tir is dead. Alistair cut off his head."

 

"And yet their children live," Margeria hissed. "Oh, yes. I heard of your King's 'justice', Elissa. Howe's children sent into exile, free to live out their lives, when your brother's boy cannot. Anora, that arrogant wench, locked in a fucking tower." She spat out that last part, visibly disgusted.

 

Elissa had to remind herself she wasn't just some second daughter, or junior warden patrolling the wilds. She was a future Queen. She couldn't think about herself and her personal vendettas.

 

"My King and future husband has made his decision," she said tightly. "I will stand by that decision." She didn't know where those words came from. They just sounded like something a proper noblewoman would say. Like something her mother would say.

 

Margeria shuddered and made a noise of revulsion. "His decisions are those of a soft young man who wants everyone to live in peace and harmony. He will not last on the throne, and you know it."

 

Elissa's eyes shot daggers. "I will not be moved to treason, nor will you," she warned the older woman. "Not against this King. Not on my watch. We have had our fill of traitors in Ferelden. Look to the palace walls and you will see I have placed their heads on spikes." She cocked her head to side. "And I have plenty of room for more."

 

Margeria paused, surprised, eyeing her niece. Her head slowly rose and fell in approval. "It seems you have the Antivan fire after all."

 

Elissa's tone was strained, her body trembling from repression. "It's the Fereldan savage, I assure you. My country has been through war and there are demons at the gates. If it is civilization you seek, I suggest you go back across the sea."

 

***

  

Elissa was still shaking when she returned to her chambers. Alistair was in the sitting room, playing with Baby by the fire. She said nothing when she entered the room, but went over to a table of refreshments and poured herself some wine. She quickly drained a cup and refilled it.

 

The King noticed her demeanor right away.

 

"Everything all right?" he asked.

 

"This gown is too warm and too tight," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "And apparently, Antiva is not happy with us."

 

Alistair was bewildered as he scratched Baby behind the ears. "What did we do? We just got here."

 

Elissa closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. She wasn't in the mood for Alistair being... Alistair. It seemed no one in the world was just now.

 

"There seems to be a bit of concern about the lack of justice in this country," she began delicately.

 

He stared at her. "There are heads rotting on our walls as we speak."

 

"Only two," she pointed out. "But Howe and Loghain had help. They had enablers. They conspired with others, and we need to root them out."

 

Alistair looked disturbed. "That sounds messy."

 

"I told you we were walking into a viper's nest," she reminded him. "I swore to have your back. You are my King and I will support your decisions."

 

He raised an eyebrow. "But...?"

 

"But I will be your Queen," she finished. "And you need to heed my council, not just the things you want to hear."

 

He sighed, pausing before he spoke again. "Elissa, we promised our people peace and unity. We have a Blight on our hands. We can't solve all our problems by putting heads on spikes. Sometimes we have to compromise, even if we don't forgive."

 

She had to admit he was making sense, and in some way, that gave her comfort. It reminded her that she hadn't chosen the wrong King, nor the wrong husband. She had wanted someone kind and just, and Alistair would always be that.

 

"Of course," Elissa acquiesced. "You're right."

 

He smiled brightly at her. "Good! I like it when we're on the same page. That's why I've decided to release Anora from the Tower, and install her in the palace as a councilor -- under constant guard, of course."

 

Elissa's eyes widened as she felt her heart stop. She stared at him in total disbelief and, for the time ever, was furious with him. "You did what?"

 

"She knows this palace," he insisted, casually rubbing Baby's belly. "She knows the people, and most importantly, she knows the politics."

 

Elissa felt her head swim and her vision blur, as though she were about to sway on her feet. It took everything in her to keep from screaming at him.

 

"I just defended you to my aunt," she said through gritted teeth, "and you released that bitch from the Tower?"

 

He stared at her again. "Elissa... have you ever actually met Anora?"

 

"Have you?" she fired back. "Have you ever met her, the real her? Can you say you truly know the politician, or do you only recall the pretty princess in pink?"

 

He paused, looking down for a moment before saying, "I'm not swayed by her beauty, if that's what you're worried about."

 

"Oh, I think you are," she snapped. "I know she's fair of face and hair; I bet she even speaks with a high voice. And like all men, you don't take her seriously. I know. I've been there. Why do you think I started wearing armor and painting my face in the first place, Alistair?" Her voice was loud now, bordering on shrill. "It's because I know that when I walk into a room, I have to inspire fear for men to respect me. Me, Alistair, not my father, not my brother -- me!"

 

She slammed her goblet down so hard the wine sloshed out and spilled over, and then stormed from the room before he could respond. Alistair stared after her, not sure how he got here.