Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

Since the Blight seemed to be moving north and west, the decision was made to gather the armies at Redcliffe and march against it from there. The five days it took to prepare the royal entourage—and Alistair turned pale and looked faint the first time he heard it referred to as such—to depart for Redcliffe were passed in a frenzy of activity.

The first order of business, upon which both Alistair and Fergus were adamant, needed to be a wedding. Elissa could only imagine what Eamon would have had to say about it had he not departed for Redcliffe the morning after the Landsmeet to prepare for the arrival of the army. The arl seemed affronted that Alistair had completely side-stepped him on the business of choosing a bride to begin with. She herself thought it was an unnecessary distraction, but she was overruled by Alistair. She considered it a sentimental undertaking on Alistair's part until Fergus confessed it was his idea.

"Have you gone mad?" she shouted, rounding furiously on her brother once they were alone. These days it seemed her temper was hanging by a thread, a combination of her discomfort and impatience with being pregnant and the pressures of preparing to send an army to war. "We've only just convinced the Landsmeet that the Grey Wardens are not grasping for power and you give Alistair the idea to rush a wedding without the proper formalities? Andraste's ass, Fergus! This is not the time for Cousland ambition!"

"If Alistair falls in battle, Ferelden will be without a ruler if we don't solidify your place as Alistair's queen and the babe as his heir," Fergus said patiently. "The last thing we need is another civil war so soon after the succession has been decided. This is the politically expedient thing to do, pup."

She'd immediately felt contrite for not giving Alistair and her brother more credit for sensible motivations and acquiesced to the scheme. The Grand Cleric was summoned—as well as the few members of the nobility who had not yet departed for their own arlings and bannorns—to serve as witnesses in addition to their own companions for a very impromptu royal wedding. Elissa was certain there would be pressure for a more formal affair at some point in the future, but once she resigned herself to the idea, it seemed fitting that their wedding should be an understated event. Still, it was a relief to have it done with so that they could turn their attention to more pressing affairs.

It was not merely their companions who would be accompanying Alistair back to Redcliffe, but half the city guard as well. Alistair wasn't happy leaving Elissa in Denerim with a depleted guard, but since the royal army had been effectively destroyed at Ostagar, Denerim actually had very few troops remaining to contribute to the combined army the Grey Wardens had pulled together. Elissa sent Zevran to seek out the Crimson Oars and the other mercenary companies Loghain had assembled and convince them—with gold, if necessary—that with Loghain's death, their allegiance was being paid for by the new king.

Thus, Alistair would be traveling to Redcliffe with an army at his back, and at the core of it would be an honor guard assembled of the companions they had gathered through their travels.

She and Alistair had one truly spectacular quarrel during that time, and that was over whether Wynne would accompany Alistair into battle, or remain in Denerim to act as midwife to Elissa when the babe came. Elissa had immediately dismissed the midwives who had attended Anora when they reacted in horror to the level of activity she engaged in even in these final weeks of her pregnancy. They seemed to be under the impression that she could not possibly bring the babe to birth safely unless she spent her pregnancy abed.

"Do you imagine the darkspawn I've fought over the last nine months simply pierced themselves upon my arrows while I rested?" she asked scathingly when the one who identified herself as the chief midwife told her she was endangering her babe by being on her feet. "It's little wonder Queen Anora failed to produce an heir with you ignorant lot attending her."

Once Alistair learned of what she had done, he had insisted that she keep Wynne with her. Elissa was equally determined that Wynne should go with Alistair, as he would have no healer in his personal guard otherwise. He argued that he could find another spirit healer among the Circle mages that would be joining the army, to which Elissa replied that she hadn't the knowledge of or faith in those healers that she had in Wynne.

When Alistair threatened to delay his departure for Redcliffe until after Elissa gave birth so that Wynne could be with her—a proposition that sent Elissa into a rage—Wynne finally stepped in and settled the dispute. Elissa had no idea where she found the midwife she produced—she suspected the woman was one of the mages of the Collective—but the woman was so ancient and frail in appearance that Elissa wondered that a simple breeze wouldn't knock her over.

"Alba is a strong mage with healer talents, and a very competent midwife," Wynne explained when Alistair stared at the mage skeptically. "She attended the birth of my own son, many years ago, before she... retired from the Circle. She will attend the queen and I will go into battle with the king."

It took Alistair testing the mage with his templar talents—stopping just short of actually smiting the old woman, whose diminutive stature was only partially explained when she removed her cowl to reveal her pointed ears—before he gave his approval to the plan. From that moment on, Elissa learned her status as the queen of Ferelden meant absolutely nothing to the venerable old mage. The elf shared her disdain for inactivity, but nonetheless implemented and enforced a strict schedule for eating and resting at intervals when Elissa would have allowed the business of preparing for Alistair's departure to cause her to forget such things. She quickly came to dread the sharpness of the old woman's tongue and learned that unquestioning obedience was the only hope for sparing herself a verbal flaying.

She woke early from her afternoon nap the day before Alistair was due to leave for Redcliffe to find Alistair slipping quietly into her chambers. He was dressed only in his a linen shirt and a simple pair of leather breeches, which meant he had taken the time to stop by his own chambers to remove his armor and change his clothing. She wondered if he'd summoned one of his body servants to help him; having an attendant—much less several of them—for dealing with the complicated process of donning and doffing his armor after so many months of relying upon his companions for such services in the wilderness was proving a bit of an adjustment.

"Did I wake you?" he asked when he saw her eyes were open.

"It doesn't matter," she said dismissively, struggling to sit as he crossed the huge chamber to her bed. She spent most nights in his chamber but found it to be less disruptive to the routine of his personal retainers if she napped in her own. "What are you doing here in the middle of the day?"

"I find myself with surprisingly little left to do," he said, looking perplexed. "All the preparations are made, except for a few details Fergus insists on seeing to himself as general of the royal army. All that remains to do at this point is wait for sunrise so that we can depart, since it's too late to leave today."

"I see," Elissa said, not entirely happily. She hated the thought that she would not be going with him into battle, that she would not be there beside him to bring the archdemon down after all they had done together. But she forced herself to push those thoughts aside; there was no help for it. She simple could not cross Ferelden again this close to the babe's coming, much less do so marching at an army’s pace. "Then what is your intention, husband?"

"Well, no sooner did I come to the realization that I was completely unnecessary then that midwife of yours cornered me. She's scary, you know."

"I do, indeed," Elissa said with humor.

"Anyway, completely oblivious to my discomfiture, she informed me that there is one service I can provide my queen before I leave."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes," Alistair nodded, a smile she knew all too well flitting about his lips as he stripped off his shirt and crawled onto her enormous bed. Elissa allowed herself to be momentarily distracted by the taut flexing of his buttocks beneath the snug leather of his breeches. "She tells me that you're getting rather impatient with being pregnant."

"Well, it would be nice to not wallow around like a drunken bronto everywhere I go," Elissa agreed. "And having a day pass without my back aching abominably would be grand. Or to be able to wear my boots again, which I’ve been unable to do this past week due to this horrid swelling of my ankles. Not to mention going longer than an hour without having to use the necessity. Speaking of which...."

Grimacing, she rose from the bed and ducked into the garderobe, emerging a moment later much more comfortable, though considerably lighter of dignity.

"As I was saying," Alistair continued, sprawled comfortably across the silk coverlet on her bed. The muscles of his back rippled as he rolled up onto his side, drawing her frankly admiring attention. "According to Alba, sex can help bring on labor."

"Yes, she said much the same to me," Elissa acknowledged with a small smile, climbing ungracefully onto the high bed.

"And when were you planning on mentioning this to me?" he asked, reaching for the hem of her shift.

"Hmm, should I have done so when you were pouring yourself into bed in the middle of the night utterly exhausted? Or perhaps an hour or two later when we both woke up screaming from nightmares of the archdemon? Or maybe at the very crack of dawn when we both dragged ourselves out of bed to begin the whole thing again?" She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Really, Alistair, you simply must appoint a chancellor to help you attend to these things."

"True. I was thinking after we've defeated the Blight of perhaps offering Fergus that position."

Elissa shook her head. "No. He's going to have his hands full getting Highever back on its feet, and administrative affairs were never his strong suit. Besides, it would look too much like a Cousland grab for power to have both of us so close to you. I'd recommend Eamon."

"Really?" Alistair looked surprised. "After all you said about him trying to run Ferelden through me?"

"It will placate him after the way you circumvented him in the matter of choosing a wife, and I'll be here to counterbalance him should he get it in his head that he has more authority than he does."

Alistair began to respond then shut his mouth with a snap, looking irritated. "Maker's breath, are we honestly going to sit and talk politics in bed together on my last evening with you here?" he asked, blowing out his breath with a huff.

Elissa gave him an apologetic shrug and a contrite, if flirtatious, smile. "My apologies, husband. You had something else you'd rather discuss?"

"Actually, I'm under rather strict orders by that martinet masquerading as a midwife you employ to make love to you at least once before I leave."

"At least once?"

"At the very least," he confirmed, his voice dropping low.

"I see. Well, if I've learned nothing these past days, I've learned it simply does not do to disobey Alba."

"I think I came to much the same conclusion," Alistair agreed as she let him raise her shift over her head and toss it away.

His hand came up immediately to cup her breast, his thumb stroking across the peak as it grew taut. "I was informed that this is especially useful in helping to bring about labor," he murmured, leaning close to draw her nipple into his mouth. He hummed as he collected a small amount of thick, creamy fluid on his tongue.

"I'm very much in favor of this plan," Elissa sighed, feeling the languid warmth of arousal suffuse her even as other parts of her body tightened pleasantly. "But why all this interest in bringing on my labor?"

When Alistair raised his head, there was something dark and troubled in his eyes. He looked afraid. "It's going to drive me crazy to be out there not knowing how you're—if you've—" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"I'll be fine, Alistair," Elissa murmured, sliding her knuckles down the line of his jaw. "I'm young and strong and it's been a very healthy pregnancy."

"But women die. My mother died."

"I can't give you any guarantees, my love. It will be as the Maker wills," she said softly, then she smiled, trying to lighten his mood. "But your mother didn't have a martinet whom I've been assured is the most powerful healer in all of Ferelden looking after her during her confinement."

"I know. I know. You're right," he sighed, laying his head on her belly. The babe immediately began kicking, either curious about or unhappy with the pressure. "But if I have to leave not knowing, it will haunt me every day."

"Do you think I won't feel the same?" she asked unhappily. "To know you're out there facing the Blight without me by your side... It will be agony to be here and not know how you're faring. But this is what we must do, Alistair. You must lead our people against the Blight. And I cannot go with you, however desperately I wish it could be otherwise."

He clasped her to him then, so hard it was nearly painful, depriving her of breath. And yet Elissa clung to him, holding him even tighter.

"I'll do everything I can to come back to you, my love," he vowed, pressing his lips into her hair. "I swear it."

---

Darkness had fallen before they slept, weary and replete, but Elissa woke not long after for yet another trip to the privy. She ached pleasantly from Alistair's determined lovemaking, which had featured an ambitious number of orgasms (also per Alba's instructions, Alistair had explained with his head between her legs) and she took the time to wash her sticky thighs after she'd attended to her most urgent need.

She felt the periodic surges of tension in her womb that seemed to come and go at times and picked at the tray of food her maid had brought for them at supper while she waited to see if they would continue. Deciding they were intense enough that it couldn't hurt to encourage matters along, she resolved to walk for a while, an exercise Alba told her would aid labor once it began.

Donning her shift and a light dressing gown and stepping into her slippers—thankfully it was not necessary to bend over to put them on—she left the chamber so that she wouldn't wake Alistair and worry him unduly. Her mabari, sleeping in his accustomed spot near her door, immediately rose to join her, panting contentedly at her side.

The normally active palace was strangely silent, save for the occasional guard patrolling the hallways. They bowed politely and she greeted them with a dignified nod. She came to a long, wide gallery lined with portraits of Theirin kings and queens who had ruled since the days of King Calenhad. Someday, when the Blight was over and there was time for such niceties, Alistair's portrait would join them, and perhaps her child's as well. She paused for a long while before Cailan's portrait, sparing a moment to wonder—as she had in the Landsmeet—just where Ferelden would be now had Ostagar turned out differently. Would things have been worse, with Cailan mismanaging the war against the darkspawn? What sort of Ferelden would she had brought her babe into had things gone otherwise?

At the end of the gallery a tall door opened onto a balcony that overlooked the gardens. Elissa stepped out onto it, pausing a moment to adjust as the damp coolness of the interior of the palace gave way to the hot, humid air outside. The night had only cooled the miserably hot day to a barely tolerable temperature, and Elissa was about to retreat back within the cool, thick stone walls of the palace when a shadow moving down in the garden. The shape resolved itself into a familiar wolf, and its yellow eyes looked up as though it sensed her staring at it. The wolf wavered, shimmered, and began to dissolve, and in a moment it was no longer there. From where it had stood, a large hawk or falcon launched itself from the ground and flew to the balcony. Once again, the shape wavered and grew indistinct, and then suddenly Morrigan was standing before her.

"Unable to rest, Warden?" the witch asked coolly. "I would have expected you to be abed with your beloved."

"And so I would be, if my blasted womb would decide whether or not it's serious about having this babe," Elissa answered impatiently. As ever, Morrigan glanced away and looked discomfited by mention of her pregnancy.

"'Tis a curious thing," Morrigan said after a long, thoughtful moment. "I scarcely know what to make of it."

"Shall I venture a guess as to what you're referring? Is it possible you've just had your first feeling?" Elissa asked tartly, then immediately regretted it. She and Morrigan had never become friendly, Morrigan's stand-offishness had seen to that, but she'd never sought to antagonize the witch before. It was the heat and her discomfort and weariness, she thought, irritated with herself.

Morrigan seemed amused by her acerbic response, however. "That would be unlikely, wouldn't it? I am reminded of the first time I saw you in the Wilds. I had been watching you for some time in my animal form, intrigued. You were much younger and clearly less proficient at arms than the men you accompanied, and yet you carried with you an aura of power and authority and they deferred to you. It was not until that night when I saw you slip into the tent of one of your fellow Wardens that I saw how very much alike we actually are. We both know our power over men and how to get the most out of it. I suppose that's why I resented it so when Flemeth sent me to travel with you. In some ways, we are too much alike, you and I. I assumed you would drive me from your company in short order."

"We've never been close, it's true," Elissa acknowledged. "But why would I do that?"

"There is only so much room for women like us in a given group. You drew the men—and even the other women—to you like a lodestone, and made even those you did not take to your bed care for you. And even though I did not want them, still there seemed to be nothing left for me. I am well aware that I have little talent for forming friendships," Morrigan confessed. "I know nearly nothing about such things, and see little use for them."

"Whereas, I've recently been told, forming bonds of affection is one of my strengths," Elissa agreed. "Yes, I can see why we puzzle each other so."

Morrigan nodded. "Yet, when I discovered Flemeth's plans, you did not abandon me. It could have cost the lives of companions you valued far more highly than me, but still you fought that terrible battle on my behalf."

"Once again you've managed to misunderstand me," Elissa sighed. "I may feel more affection for others amongst our party, but you have been my companion as well. Your life has no less value to me than that of any other in our company."

"And that is what I do not understand!" Morrigan said in frustration. "I am not your friend nor am I your lover. My usefulness does not explain why you made overtures of, well, friendship toward me in those early days after we left the Wilds, before I rebuffed you. You could have ignored me entirely, and yet you did not. Instead, you put yourself, and your child, and the rest of your companions in danger to defend me."

"You are one of my people, Morrigan," Elissa explained. "It's as simple as that. Whether we are close or not has no bearing on it. You have fought beside me, risked your life and bled in my cause. We may not have friendship between us, you and I, but there is still a loyalty there, an allegiance. Your life has value to me not because of the camaraderie you provide, or the services you render, but because you are one of my people. I can do no less."

"I see," the witch bowed her head, seeming troubled. "I still do not know what to make of it, but no matter. I only wish to say... I am grateful for this loyalty, this... allegiance you have shown me. Perhaps I have been unworthy of it, but I shall always value it. I wanted you to know that, before I leave here, for I have no intention of returning after the archdemon is dead."

"Thank you," Elissa said with a nod. "I appreciate the thought."

"I also wish you to know that perhaps I can reciprocate the service you have done me. It may be you will not care for it when the time comes, but I will do my best."

Before Elissa could respond to that last cryptic statement, Morrigan was gone, and a hawk was winging away from the balcony, leaving Elissa to stare after its dark shape, disturbed.

After Morrigan had departed, Elissa realized the tightening in her belly had once again ceased entirely, and disappointed, she began to walk back to her chambers to rest as best she could. She was nearly to her door when she heard the scream of the archdemon echo through her mind, followed by Alistair's yell from inside her chamber.

She ran the rest of the way to find him sitting up in her bed, panting and sweating, his eyes wild and frightened. "Did you hear it?" he gasped.

"Yes, even fully awake I heard it," she said, scrambling onto the bed. "It was like that night the shrieks attacked our camp. It's getting stronger."

Alistair rubbed his head as though pained. "If Riordan hadn't already left to go south, try to get an idea of where the Blight is heading, I'd say we should go see him and find out what it means, but I doubt he'd tell us anything we don't already know."

"And what is it we know?"

"That one way or the other, this is coming to an end," he answered, his voice hard and his eyes bleak.

She flung herself at him, clinging to him. "Alistair, I'm afraid."

"I am, too," he whispered, gripping her tightly.

Their coming together was thunder and fury, hands clutching and kneading as their mouths clashed against each other, open and frantic. Alistair tore at her dressing gown and shift, rough and urgent in his need to have her bare skin against his. The echoes of the archdemon were drowned out by feral cries of another sort as they clawed and bit at one another, surging together as though they could drive their fear away with desperate thrusts of their bodies.

The sky was beginning to hint at the first predawn light when Elissa came the final time, looking down at him, her face wet with tears she could not remember shedding. And then there was no more time as Alistair returned to his chambers to allow his grooms to dress and arm him for the march to Redcliffe.

Strangely, there were no tears at the king's departure, a formal and ceremonial affair at the city gates where all the court and a good portion of the citizens turned out to bid him farewell. Elissa stood there solemn and silent, arrayed in her finest gown, as Alistair bent and placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek. There was a murmur of approval from what little of the court remained, and she knew what a heroic and romantic picture the two of them must have made, their leave-taking so dignified and yet tragically poignant.

She stood there until long after the forms of Alistair and her brother, walking side-by-side to war, disappeared in the distance. Then with a sigh she straightened her shoulders and returned to the palace and her duty.