"So they were just talking?"
Leliana nodded. "Anora and the Rivaini Ambassador chatted for some time. The Ambassador did most of the talking. She mentioned her home, and the Rivaini Queen, and the like."
Elissa Cousland mulled it over. "Anora's made a friend?"
Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem, my lady?"
Elissa shook her head. "We have to make concessions somewhere. If we completely isolate her, she'll likely go crazy and do something stupid."
The Arlessa looked about herself. The statues were polished, the pews were dusted, and the floors were scrubbed to the point of gleaming. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, and she noted that not a single pane was smudged.
"This has to be the cleanest Chantry I've ever visited," she mumbled. "No rubble, no broken bookshelves..."
Leliana chuckled softly. "I'd have to concur. Though I must say, what it boasts in perfection, it lacks in character."
Elissa smirked. "Missing Lothering, are you?"
Leliana shrugged. "Say what you want, my lady. That small town had character."
"Was your journey too stressful?" Elissa asked, changing the subject. She didn't like thinking about Lothering, and all those poor souls who fell to the darkspawn horde. Those dark days were finally behind her and she didn't want to dredge them back up. "Is there anything you need?"
"I have all I need, my lady," Leliana assured her. She titled her head slightly. "It's so strange to call you that. When I met you, you were anything but lady-like. And now look at you."
Elissa snorted, looking her up and down. "Oh please... 'Sister'. You know as well as I do there's more to a person than what meets the eye. It's what I spent weeks trying to explain about Anora."
Leliana's head moved side to side, mulling over Elissa's words. "Legally, she is powerless, but you and I both know that in and of itself doesn't make her weak. However...she seems tired, my lady, as though she is finally accepting defeat."
Elissa's jaw tightened. "We'll have to watch her just to make sure."
***
The children had their own suite of rooms. Alistair had told Isolde and
Eamon to spare no expense, and the rooms were furnished as beautifully
as those of he King's. In the sitting room, Alistair sat, finally meeting with his sister's eldest child.
She was a little girl of seven or so, with dark blond curls and big, blue-green eyes. She was skinny, no doubt having gone without a few meals in her time.
No wonder her mother's obsessed with money, the King thought. He suddenly felt bad for Goldanna, as he sometimes did.
Alistair was usually quite good with children; he knew how to make them laugh and feel at ease. But as he looked upon this little girl, he was suddenly at a loss for words. He had no idea what to say to her, or how to even begin to explaining what was going on.
"And which one are you?" he finally asked. He'd never bothered to learn the children's names, and felt bad about that too.
"Brigid, Your Majesty," the little girl calmly replied. Her voice surprised him. Already, the common accent was fading. She spoke clearly, and made eye contact, with her chin up and her shoulders back.
That's Eamon's handiwork, Alistair recognized. The Arl of Redcliffe had done the same to him. He always insisted on Alistair's posture, tone, and eye contact. It was years before Alistair realized the old man was grooming him for the throne.
Now the old man is schooling a future queen, he realized. It unnerved him to think of it, to think of how this little girl might be Queen Brigid of Ferelden someday. He loathed to place such a burden on a child, but knew he had no choice.
We all have to make sacrifices in the end.
"Brigid," he said. "I am the King, but I am also your uncle. Did your mother tell you about me?"
The little girl nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He paused, unsure of how to continue. "What has she said about me?"
The girl lowered her eyes and said nothing. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
Oh, Alistair blinked. Yeah, that sounds about right.
"Well," he recovered, "I am the King, and someday, when I'm gone, you will be Queen." He waited a beat to see her reaction.
"Yes, Your Majesty," came the simply reply, eyes still looking down.
Alistair's eyebrow went up. It appeared Eamon had already covered this with her, and Alistair felt annoyed, as though the old man had overstepped in some way. The King had wanted to break the news to his heir. It only seemed fitting.
"But that's a long time from now," he assured her. "In the meantime, I want you -- and your siblings, of course -- to be happy. You are a princess, after all. If there is anything you need, all you have to do is ask."
Brigid looked up. "May I see my mother, Your Majesty?"
Alistair's stomach turned, but he willed it to calm. "Of course. I will have Lady Isolde summon her."
***
On the outside, Goldanna appeared a thoroughly changed woman. She had fully embraced the Orlesian style, wearing a fine silk gown of deep orange embroidered in gold. She wore amber earrings and necklace, set with gold and pearls. She smelled divine, like musk, fruit, and flowers, and she even moved like a courtier, with shocking propriety and grace.
Alistair didn't even recognize her when she walked into the sitting room.
"Mama!" Brigid exclaimed, running to her mother. Goldanna tensed, startled, but then relaxed slightly. She rested her hands lightly on Brigid's shoulders, but did not embrace her. Instead, she quietly turned towards Alistair and bowed.
"Your Majesty."
Alistair resisted a smirk. She still sounded like herself, just a little more proper.
"Your children wanted to see you," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll leave you both to it."
"No need," Goldanna said coolly. She turned back to her daughter and finally knelt. "Did His Majesty explain why you're here?"
Brigid nodded. "Yes, Mama."
"Then you know it's time to be a big girl now," Goldanna told her. "I have to go away soon, and I won't get to see you for a very long time."
Brigid was immediately alarmed. "Why?"
"Remember when I said you and your siblings had a right to live better than you were?" her mother asked. The little girl nodded. "Well, that day's finally come. You're going to be Queen. All of this --" Goldanna gestured about her "--is going to be yours some day and that's all you can think about now, you hear me? So study hard, listen to Lady Isolde and Lord Eamon, and His Majesty, because you are going to be Queen. And that's all that matters now. You'll never be hungry again, and you won't have to help your Mama with the wash anymore. Because you're going to be the Queen."
Tears seemed to tease the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back and steeled herself. She rose to her feet and turned back to the King.
"May I take my leave, Your Majesty?"
"To where?" Alistair asked, blinking in dismay.
"The Teyrn of Highever has offered to court me," she said flatly. "I already told him he didn't need to do all that fancy stuff for me. Of course, I'll marry him." She drilled her eyes into her brother's. "I'd be dumb as a post not to."
Alistair mutely nodded, stunned by his sister's behavior. He didn't know if this was her way of being a proper noble mother, distant and discerning, trying to do right by her family, or if she was just the same old money-grubbing Goldanna.
Perhaps it's a bit of both, he mused. At heart, she's a noble through and through. Only caring about coin and status. I bet she offered her children up before Elissa even had a chance to speak.
Goldanna bowed, then left without hesitation. Alistair and Brigid stared after her, both speechless. Even the little girl looked flabbergasted.
"Don't worry, little one," Alistair muttered. "You'll miss her...until the day you don't."
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