Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

As she waited for the modiste to arrive, Elissa ventured out of her rooms in her Dalish armor to check on her brother. She found him up and getting dressed himself, though in an ill-fitting breeches and doublet that Elissa recognized as being Teagan's. With Wynne in the Alienage with Alistair, there was no impediment to her visiting Fergus, nor anyone keeping him abed. Before she knew it, Elissa had flung herself into her brother's arms.

"Are you all right, pup?" he asked, pulling back to look at her in concern. "That blasted healer of yours wouldn't allow me to join the rescue party that went to Fort Drakon after you."

"I'm fine, Fergus. I don't really want to talk about all that right now. How are you?"

The smile he gave her was a shadow of the rakish grin she was so used to seeing from him. "Far better than the last time you saw me. There were a few scars that were too old for your healer to fix, but it will only add to my mystique, right?"

"You'll have all the ladies of the court clamoring over you in no time, and quite a few of the men as well," Elissa assured him with a wan attempt to return his smile.

Fergus abandoned his attempt at humor and she dropped hers as well, cupping his face between her hands. He bent and pressed his forehead to hers, holding her face as she did his, and Elissa closed her eyes and just allowed herself to feel his nearness, the warmth and familiarity and safety of him. This was her brother, her shelter and solace for as long as she could remember. They breathed together, silently offering and receiving comfort, sharing their unspoken grief for all they had lost.

After a long moment Fergus sighed and drew back, caressing his thumbs once over her cheekbones before he released her. "Will we have time to discuss all that has happened today, or are you running off to slay an archdemon or something?"

"Oh no, something much more terrifying and potentially deadly," Elissa answered glibly. "I'm waiting for Madame Lucille to arrive to fit me with a complete wardrobe so that I can go out and wrangle votes for the Landsmeet."

"You've summoned that old dragon?" Fergus asked incredulously. "After the way she used to make you cry at each fitting?"

Elissa sighed. "Yes, yes, I know, I'm too short and have too much hip to ever cut a fashionable figure. I'm sure after she's done scolding me for demanding she bring something suitable to wear today, I'll be wishing for that archdemon after all. However, since the nobles are never going to accept me as a general in my present state, I might as well play the part they will accept."

"Who do you intend to go see?" Fergus asked, sitting in an overstuffed chair before the cool hearth as Elissa took a seat opposite him.

"I assume you arranged to send messages to Bann Alfstanna and Bann Sighard as I requested before Ser Cauthrien took me into custody?" At Fergus's nod, Elissa hummed thoughtfully. "Very well then, that's where I'll start. I'll pay a visit to each of them, to check on Alfstanna's brother and Sighard's son, naturally. While I'm there, I'll try to emphasize that it was at Loghain's behest that Howe had Oswyn and Irminric in his dungeon. I'm afraid I may have to trade in rather cynically on your own injuries sustained at Howe's hands, Fergus. It may help establish a bond of common interest."

"You may as well bring the living proof if you’re going to take that tack. I'll come with you," Fergus said decisively. "You were kept away from court, they don't know you as well as they do me. Oswyn and I often went carousing together, and as for Alfstanna, well...."

Elissa's eyebrows lifted in interest. "She was a lover of yours?"

Fergus nodded. "My first. Father wanted her vote in the Landsmeet in favor of the first trade delegation he wished to lead to Orlais and I was only too happy to pave the way."

"Well, if she has fond memories, that should help us immensely," she said approvingly. "Thank you. If you feel up to it, I'll happily have you along. Of course, this means we'll need to get you some better fitting clothes as well. Best you resign yourself to Madame Lucille's tender mercies now, brother."

Fergus made a long show of groaning dismay. When he had finished, he proposed another call they could make. "I'd also recommend paying a visit to Arl Bryland. You resemble Mother closely enough that he'll be very disposed to like you. They carried on an affair for some months when you were quite young, and he was extremely fond of her. It resulted in Bryland siding against Howe and allying himself with Father during some rather contentious negotiations, and that was really the root of the schism that divided the two of them from Howe after they had all three fought together during the Orlesian occupation. If I recall correctly, Bryland's got a daughter a bit younger than you whom I once heard was giving him quite a bit of trouble. You may offer to take her under your wing once you have a chance to remain at court for a while."

"All right," Elissa agreed with a decisive nod. "Though I suppose I ought to make it clear to you now that I have no intention of carrying out any seductions. For one thing, it would be absurd with me being the size of a bronto—"

"But a lovely bronto, still," he offered gallantly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "—moreover, it would only serve to confirm whatever gossip Howe had been spreading about the Couslands. Right now we'd be best served presenting a very chaste and proper image. But beyond that... honestly, I just couldn't bear it right now."

Fergus sighed, looking as lost and confused as Elissa felt. "Me either, pup."

"Do you think it will get better, brother?" she asked softly after a long moment.

"I hope so. It has to," he said fervently, closing his eyes. "It did after that first time Howe brutalized me when I was seventeen, when Father was trying to patch up relations with him. It took time, though. And an experience with someone who wasn't a brute. Speaking of whom, I suppose if Duncan had made it he'd be here with you now?"

"He helped me to escape Highever at Mother and Father's request, but he was lost at Ostagar."

Fergus nodded in resignation. "I figured as much. So what about this Alistair fellow? I take it he's not the father of your babe."

"No. It turns out Grey Wardens are notoriously infertile. But,” she favored him with a meaningful stare, “I dare not say more on the subject with the queen under the same roof."

Fergus started to speak, and then his eyes widened in amazement. "Really, pup?"

"Oh, yes," she said with a deep sigh. "I came very close to achieving everything I'd plotted and schemed for all those years in Highever, only to be thwarted by Loghain's madness."

"Cai—he took you to bed and then failed to leave any sort of assurance for you if he fell in battle before the matter could be formalized?" Fergus scowled. "Very negligent of him, not to mention unchivalrous. It wasn't a dairy maid he was tumbling, after all, but a Cousland! He was always a bit of a popinjay, but I didn't think he was that big a fool. He used to be more conscientious than that, at least where matters of gallantry were concerned."

"It doesn't matter, Fergus." Elissa shook her head dismissively. "None of it matters now."

"Because now you've taken Maric's other son as your lover."

"No! Maker's breath, no. It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

"Assuming Alistair and I can ever bring ourselves to be any more than awkwardly civil toward one another again—and that appears to be a rather far-fetched assumption at this point—Alistair doesn't want to be king and I... even if he becomes king I cannot be his queen," she explained.

"You reputation is damaged because you can't verify the father of your babe," Fergus concluded.

"Precisely."

"It's not like you to give up so easily, pup," her brother observed, glancing at her shrewdly. "You've always looked after your interests better than this."

"Leave it, Fergus," Elissa said shortly. "It's done with."

"But—"

Whatever Fergus was about to say was interrupted by the nervous rapping of a servant upon his door. Scarcely had he called out permission to enter than the door burst open, admitting the extremely over-painted couturier Elissa had summoned. Madame Lucille took one look at Elissa's abbreviated leather armor and bare, bulging belly, and then gave a horrified glance at Fergus's ill-fitting garments. Anything else they might have said to one another was then drowned out in a torrent of loudly-spoken Orlesian as the dressmaker began yelling orders at her assistants.

---

Eamon was happy to loan them his carriage for the day so that Elissa would not have to walk the streets of Denerim in her condition. It was then that Elissa began to understand how useful projecting the illusion of fragility could be. The sight of her in a gown brought out a gallant solicitude in the arl that her armor had not.

Very well, then, she thought with a hint of amusement. If they would not accept her as a general, then let them believe her a delicate flower, so long as either way they did her bidding.

The gown she wore wasn't much different from those she had worn before Highever fell. There had been little time or money for embellishments, as Madame Lucille would only advance her so much on credit until Highever and the Cousland properties were definitively restored to her family by the Landsmeet. As a result, the familiar velvet yoke across her shoulders—dyed a sapphire shade that emphasized the blue of her eyes and embroidered with red silk and gold thread—was decorated with simple gold studs across her chest and back rather than jewels. Elissa liked the effect; it made her look more somber and competent, a woman intent on a purpose rather than simply another preening court swan.

The overgown itself was a lustrous shade of ecru satin over a voluminous light blue shirt. Instead of the customary intricate lattice-work of laces across the bosom and high-necked shirt below, the neckline was cut lower and fastened with golden buttons, and the shirt beneath laced down the front. She was informed that this adaptation would come in handy after the babe was born, should she choose not to utilize a wet nurse.

The accustomed strip of cloth binding her breasts was discarded. Madame Lucille had taken one horrified look at its sweat-stained and frayed state and ordered a fire built on the hearth to destroy it. Instead, she wore a long, fine-woven linen shift under her gown that tightened with a drawstring beneath her breasts to offer some support, which could be lowered to nurse a babe (as Madame Lucille demonstrated, handling Elissa's breasts into and our of the shift with brusque efficiency and absolutely no tolerance for modesty.) The couturier also promised that when the rest of Elissa's gowns were completed, she would send with them an ample supply of absorbent pads that could be tucked inside the chemise to prevent the inevitable leaking milk from staining her gowns.

Gone was the wide, belted stomacher cinched tightly about the waist, replaced by a simple sash in the same shade of sapphire as the yoke, with the same intricate red and gold embroidery. It tied in back and fell in streamers past her backside, drawing in the bodice beneath her breasts and above the swell of her belly. After the babe was born and her figure restored, she could return to more fashionable stomacher, while still keeping the practical conveniences built into the upper bodice. The skirt was actually cut longer in the front than in the back, but after it draped over the mound of her belly, the hem turned out to be even. That would have to be adjusted after the babe was born, but all told it was a remarkably versatile gown.

Madame Lucille argued vociferously and threw up her hands in frustration when Elissa insisted upon soft yet practical calfskin boots to wear beneath, rather than the flimsy cloth slippers common to court wear, but Elissa would not yield upon the point. Eventually the dressmaker sent one of her assistants to the cobbler's shop to retrieve a pair of boots in something approaching the correct size until a custom-made pair could be crafted. The ensemble might be entirely unsuitable for fighting, Elissa thought in satisfaction as she observed herself in the glass, but at least she wouldn't have to endure the agony of beautiful but useless shoes on her aching feet. Unfortunately, if her feet swelled up any more, the boots were going to present their own set of difficulties.

Fergus, the dressmaker sent off into the Market District under the escort of another of her assistants, to the tailor with whom she worked in tandem. He returned in a somber brick-red satin doublet and brown leather breeches that suited his coloring well and also fit him much better than Teagan's clothing had. He also had placed an order for several more custom-made sets to be delivered before the Landsmeet convened, also using the Cousland name and the restoration of Highever as his surety.

His convalescent state was made apparent when he returned from his excursion limping slightly and wincing with each step. It was his own suggestion that he affect a walking stick for their visits, to add credence to his claims of Howe's brutality. Elissa approved of the plan; Fergus understood the importance of making an impression every bit as much as she did.

Their visit to Bann Alfstanna's estate proved abortive, as the butler informed them the bann had gone to the Gnawed Noble tavern to congregate with the other banns who were trickling into Denerim in preparation for the Landsmeet. Seizing upon this an as opportunity to pay as many of their calls as possible with the least amount of effort, they returned to the carriage and directed the coachman back to the Market District.

The Gnawed Noble was considerably quieter than it had been the last time Elissa had visited the inn, and she blushed to remember that day when Zevran had sold her to the mercenaries for their pleasure. Thankfully, the Crimson Oars had not returned to the tavern and none of the other patrons seemed to recognize her as the woman who had visited the tavern so many months before. Again, she found herself appalled at just how indiscreet her behavior had been in those days. What sort of mad recklessness had been driving her then?

Conveniently, they found Bann Alfstanna in conference with Arl Bryland. She was elated to see Fergus and generous in her gratitude toward Elissa for finding her brother, Irminric. When Elissa politely inquired after Irminric's well-being, she was assured that he was in the care of the Chantry once more and recovering.

"I'm quite relieved," Fergus said, giving Alfstanna an affectionate pat on the hand. Elissa wondered just how much attachment had existed between them when they'd had their affair. The bann was known as a very competent and independent woman, disinclined to marry as she had nieces and nephews to stand as her heirs, but she seemed quite fond of Fergus. "Having experienced Howe's hospitality first-hand, I can say it's only by Andraste’s own grace and the fact that my very resourceful sister, the Grey Warden, has managed to acquire the services of an extremely skillful healer that I am doing as well as I am today."

"I'm surprised Bryce and Eleanor let their daughter become a Grey Warden," Arl Bryland said, giving Elissa—or specifically, her belly—a disapproving glower. Elissa reminded herself that he was the father of a girl not much younger than she was. No doubt he was envisioning his daughter in such a scandalous condition. "The way they sheltered and cloistered you, I was sure they intended you for some Orlesian or Antivan prince, at the very least. Perhaps it might have been better if they had," he concluded gruffly. "Shame for Eleanor's daughter come to this."

"I assume you're referring to my rather disgraceful state," Elissa said softly, caressing her belly with subtle deliberation. "No, ser. It was no Orlesian or Antivan prince for whom Mother and Father intended me, but a Fereldan nobleman. When Howe carried out his sneak attack on Highever, they sent me away to join the Grey Wardens to keep me safe from Howe's men, knowing that when I reached Ostagar, I could find the man whom they intended me to marry and secure the alliance. That was their wish, so that I would have protection and aid in reclaiming our lands.

"Alas, he and I reached our agreement but before it could be formalized, my intended was lost in the battle thanks to Loghain's treachery, and I barely survived. If not for the so-called regent, I'd be respectably wed to my betrothed even now and gleefully anticipating the arrival of our firstborn with him by my side. So you're quite right, my lord arl. It is a shame that it has come to this, that honored brides are widowed before they are even wed. But imagine if it had been your daughter, ser. Would you have had her do any less to ensure her own survival, had it been her home taken and her family murdered?"

"No," he said after a thoughtful moment. "I guess I wouldn't. I suppose you've done your mother proud then, thriving as you have despite the adversity you've faced."

"Thank you, ser," she gave him polite bow of her head, and a soft smile she knew made her resemble her mother. "My lady mother always spoke very fondly of your kindness and generosity, and my dear father as well. I can see they were right in all they said."

The arl stammered, "Ah, yes, well, thank you, Lady Cousland," and cleared his throat awkwardly. Beside her, she heard Fergus cough softly and didn't dare look over to see if he was suppressing a laugh.

"Brother," she suggested sweetly, "why don't you take Lady Alfstanna to get another glass of wine and perhaps discuss with her what sort of redresses we can demand from the regent at the Landsmeet for the atrocities Howe committed at his behest."

Fergus rose with a smile still twitching at his lips. "As you say, sister."

After a moment, Arl Bryland recovered himself enough to turn his mind to less personal matters. "It's a drastic accusation you're leveling against Loghain about the business at Ostagar, Lady Cousland. What proof do you have?"

"I've little enough direct proof of his actions at Ostagar, it's true," Elissa conceded. "As for the rest of it, it's quite certain that Loghain authorized the attack Howe carried out on Highever, in which my honored mother and father were slain. Howe confessed as much to my brother when he had him in his dungeon. As the only other teyrn in Ferelden, my father was the biggest single obstacle to Loghain's plans to name himself regent and seize control of the Theirin throne. The only other nobleman with nearly as much influence in the Landsmeet is Arl Eamon, and we also have proof that Loghain hired a blood mage to poison him."

"That is true," Alfstanna added as she accepted Fergus's hand to rise. "Once my brother started to stabilize, he had some very interesting information to convey about the regent's interference in his hunt for a known maleficar."

"And so you see, my lord arl, it all fits together a bit too neatly to be coincidence," Elissa concluded once Fergus and the bann left to seek another table. "Why would Teyrn Loghain, now the regent, give Howe license to slaughter my family and poison Arl Eamon—both of which schemes were put into play before the battle at Ostagar—unless he intended in advance to see the king dead and seize the throne for himself?"

"That makes a great deal of sense," Bryland admitted. "However, if you'll heed the advice of someone who first stood in the Landsmeet chamber long before you were born, you'll stick to claims you can prove when you make your case there."

"Thank you, my lord arl," Elissa said with another gracious bow of her head. "But surely with my brother's testimony of Loghain's involvement with Arl Howe's actions against my family, the circumstantial case is strong enough to be heard? After all, it would be a terrible injustice not to be able to call Loghain to account for the death of our king, especially since he saw fit to accuse myself and the Grey Wardens of that exact crime."

"It would indeed, Lady Cousland," the arl acknowledged, "and no doubt you have a strong desire to exonerate yourself of Loghain's accusations, but it's a gamble. You've convinced me that Loghain needs to at least explain himself on these charges, but some of the banns might not be swayed without direct evidence. Still, I will speak to whom I can, exert what influence I may, and perhaps justice may yet carry the day in the Landsmeet chamber."

Elissa gave him another modest smile, and when the arl returned it, she knew he was hers.

Politics, she mused as she asked after his daughter and Bryland launched into a tale of his woes, was merely a seduction of another sort.