Crown and Cuirass

It was a sunny day. Sunny, yet winter’s dampness still clung to the air. Denerim was awaking, slowly, from a long, cold and sunless winter. The palace gardens were in a sorry state; gnarled vines and thorny stems were the only greenery that had survived the bitter winter. The queen of Ferelden sat amidst this dreariness, humming softly to herself, fingers deftly working the worn pages of an elegant tome. The royal guard stood at a silent attention, breastplates engraved with the crest of house Theirin.

An awkward hush fell over the garden, and the queen looked up. A small procession entered the courtyard, clamoring and gossiping breaking the silence with giggles and chatter. Ladies-in-waiting herded a small cluster of children into the yard. One of the children, a tall girl with straw blonde hair and grey eyes spotted the queen, and darted to her side. Hoisting the child into her lap, the queen smiled and ran her fingers through the child’s fine hair.



‘Momma, Poppa says that Bann Teagan will be riding in from Redcliffe with the Arl and, and…’ the child fumbled, unsure how to continue her sentence. Smiling, the queen kissed the child gently on the forehead, before plucking her up and placing her feet back on the ground.

The child slipped her hand into the queen’s, and the woman squeezed it, still smiling down at the youth. ‘Marian, have you been to your lessons today?’ The queen’s voice was good natured, but the child still blushed and turned away from her mother, eyes now fully entranced by the dirt her feet were kicking up.

Tugging at the hand incasing hers, the girl attempted to pull her mother towards the throng of chatting women now lurking amidst the trellises and awnings of the garden. ‘Momma… Father Geoffrey says I’m to assist you in making sure everything is good for Uncle’s visit... only Sara has lessons today’ Grey eyes shone as the girl peered towards her mother, smiling sincerely.

The queen was about to admonish the girl, but hadn’t the heart and allowed the child to drag her towards the castle proper. ‘Where are you dragging me to Marian,’ the queen laughed as the girl let loose her hand and skipped ahead. Pausing for a moment, the queen turned to watch as the other children played in the loamy soil. Another blonde girl stood amidst them, flailing her arms wildly as she told the assembled youth a story.

‘Sara!’ The queen snapped, and the girl jumped, squealing merrily as she dropped the stick she had been wielding. Laughing hysterically, the girl charged the queen, hugging her tightly, small arms barely wrapping around the queen’s thighs.



‘Momma, momma,’ the girl giggled into the queen’s gown, nuzzling the soft fabric. The queen let out an exasperated sigh as the girl sank to her knees, exhausted. Looking up expectantly at her mother, the queen sighed, knelt, and swept up the toddler into her arms. The girl shoved a dirty thumb into her mouth, suckling contentedly as her mother carried her into the castle.

Marian was waiting for her mother in the doorway, looking more disheveled than her mud-and-loam incrusted sister suddenly. Sighing, the queen beckoned one of the attendants to her, ‘Illana, can you take the girls to Mistress Rhivala and make sure they get cleaned up. Arl Eamon’s arriving tonight with Teagan, and we can’t have them looking like,’ with her free hand she waved towards the muddied child now clinging to her, ‘this.’ The elven maid nodded, and scooped the now-sleeping toddler out of the queen’s arms. Smiling towards the older girl, the elf took her hand and led them away.

Glancing down at her dress, the queen sighed heavily and smiled, amused. The gown she was wearing was on of a few that had survived the occupation of the Highever estate, and it had been a favorite of hers. She was fairly certain it was ruined now, as it was crusted with mud and dirt. The castle’s laundress would see to the gown anyways, but she hadn’t much hope for it. Slightly exasperated now, she made her way towards the back of the great castle, towards her personal quarters. She was as dirty as her daughters she mused, and she needed a bath as much as they did.

Her thought shifted, towards the feast tonight, towards the politicking to be done around the table in the great hall. She would revel and feast, but there was much to discuss with her husband and with his Uncles. ‘Marriage and war,’ she thought to herself, absentmindedly chewing her bottom lip as she glided up the cold stone surfaces. There were rumors of Qunari in the Free Marshes, of agents of the Black Divine in Rivain and Orlais. Ferelden herself had only just begun to recover from the blight six years prior, refugees had moved back to Lothering and other settlements near the wilds, and Denerim had been nearly completely repaired; however Amaranthine and the Feravel plains in the southwest of the arling were still reeling from the assault on the fort and siege of the city by the darkspawn swarms. Alistair had returned from a tour of Amaranthine and the waking coastline not a week ago, and he had been grim.

He had been grim a lot of late, and that weighed heavily on the queen. Truth be told, part of the reason his uncles were making the trip to Denerim was to discuss sending an envoy to Orlais to request engineers and laborers to assist in the rebuilding effort. Teryn Cousland and the Arl of West Hills would be riding in within the fortnight. The Arlessa of South Reach was already in the capitol, and numerous Banns had been filtering over the past month. Something was brewing, the queen thought to herself.

‘My lady?’ The queen shook herself out of her reverie, unconsciously rubbing her stomach. By the Maker she was hungry.

‘My apologies Valerie, I had lost myself there.’ The handmaid smiled demurely, and curtsied gracefully as the queen entered her boudoir. Her bath had already been drawn, and the warm steam filled the spacious room. Lush cotton towels had been laid out on her bed, along with a variety of dresses for her to choose from. Slipping out of her ruined gown, she stripped out of her smallclothes and let her hair down.

Sinking into the warm water, she reached for the dragon bone comb that had been laid out for her and drew it through her wet hair. She combed her hair thoroughly, and then grabbed one of her favorite soaps – a gift from Empress Celene from when Sara had been born. Musing over how the bar had lasted as long as it had she rubbed it vigorously between her hands, creating a scented lather, then applied it liberally to her hair. Piling the frothy mess of hair and soap onto her head, she sunk deeper into the tepid water and sighed heavily.

A knock at the door drew her out of her reverie, ‘Yes?’

‘My lady, his Majesty is here,’ the auburn haired maid had slipped into the bathing area, eyes averted from the queen’s naked form.

Smiling, the queen shifted in the bath, ‘please do send him in Valerie, and,’ she paused sitting up a little higher in the water, ‘the dresses you laid out, they’re Orlesian, yes?’ The handmaid nodded, and the queen shook her head in response. ‘Can you retrieve one of my Ferelden gowns for tonight? On the eve of a Landsmeet, I don’t believe it would be prudent for the queen to be caught wearing imported fashion.’

The handmaid smiled, and nodded dutifully. ‘The blue one, milady?’

‘That will do; and do pull out the boots and cloak that match that as well.’

‘Will you wear a weapon tonight milady?’

The queen paused. ‘No, no, not tonight. Could you send his Majesty in?’

The girl excused herself and bowed out of the room.

‘The blue one, eh?’ The queen nearly snorted as her husband sauntered into the bathroom.

‘You disapprove?’ She smiled up at him, poise ruined by the sagging heap of soapy hair atop her head.

Pulling up the plush leather chair she kept in the room for applying her face, he collapsed into it – smile cutting across his still boyish features. ‘Not at all my love, not at all,’ he shivered excitedly, ‘it reminds me of the wedding gown.’

Her eyebrows shot up, and he gave her a funny look.

‘You wore blue on the wedding!’ He threw his hands up comically, ‘granted, I preferred what was underneath it.’

It was her turn to giggle, ‘you mean, those hideous black smallclothes that the Bann Emelia gave me as an engagement present?’

He winked at her, ‘I guess I preferred those on the floor more than I did on you.’ She snorted again.

Her tone turned serious, and she faced him directly, ‘so, what is of such importance that you interrupt my bath?’

Alistair’s expression hardened immediately, and he pushed himself out of the chair. ‘It’s Eamon, he’s,’ he turned to look at her, and she knew what was coming, ‘he hasn’t much longer.’ Quickly, she rinsed her hair, and got out of the bath, wrapping her nude form in the towel left out for her.

Placing a long-fingered hand on his shoulder, she pressed herself to him, ‘what’s wrong?’

He shrugged, ‘they are unsure. Teagan believes ‘it’s just age catching up to the bastard’, his words I promise,’ he smiled sadly as she punched him softly on the arm, ‘but I…’ he broke off.

‘You don’t believe that.’

Shaking his head, he turned around in the embrace to rest his forehead against hers. ‘I don’t, no. Call me paranoid, but to have the Arl of Redcliffe take ill just weeks before the Landsmeet… It strikes of more than just the Maker’s doing.’

Delicate fingers caressed his cheek, and she captured his mouth in a gentle kiss. He kissed her back, fingers slipping into the seams of the towel, pulling it away from her. The rough cotton of his tunic pressed against her breast, and she shuddered into the embrace.

‘Alistair, love, Valerie’s in the next room,’ she giggled as he tugged gently on her earlobe, ‘naught that it’s,’ he planted a line of kisses along her jaw, ‘much of a room,’ she managed to gasp out.

Freeing herself from his clutches, she admonished him while biting back a grin. He caught a hint of the grin, and lunged at her, pulling her in tight for another kiss, ‘You don’t think she’s heard us before? The poor girl practically sleeps outside our bedchamber.’ Alistair giggled naughtily as a hand reached up to knead one of his wife’s firm breasts.

The queen grunted and gasped, grinning all the while, and shot her hand into his linen trousers. Her fingers found their way to his hardening member, and she gave him a firm tug. He grinned into the nape of her neck, ‘you naught wench, you.’ Still giggling and stroking him, she eased her free hand to the waist of his pants and pulled them free.

Stepping free of his pants, he eased her over to the window-sill, all the meanwhile thanking the Maker that serving girl had closed it. ‘Bend over,’ he hissed into her ear, letting his lips linger at the curve of her jawline. She bent over obligingly, and sucked in a heavy gulp of air as he slipped a calloused finger inside her.

Squirming, she yanked him close to her, pushing their lips together firmly. ‘Oh Maker, Alistair,’ she moaned as he caressed her core. He smiled, and pressed his lips to her forehead, before sliding his finger out of her. She grunted in protest, then mewled in pleasure as he slipped his engorged member into her.

He settled into a rapid rhythm, wholly consumed by her. Burying his face into her bosom, he suckled greedily at her breasts while his hands massaged and squeezed the lofty orbs. Her face was buried too - in the crook of his neck, her hot breath pleasurable on his slick back.

She came first, fingers gripping his taught, muscle bound back, lips parted in a perfect ‘o’ as she whimpered out his name. He squeezed her to him, pressing himself as far as he could go into her, before releasing his seed deep within her core. They lay together, nuzzling for a few moments, before she slipped out from under him, cheeks flushed red.

Squatting over the bath, she dipped a finger in it, testing the temperature. Grimacing at its warmth, she quickly dunked herself into it, and scrubbed herself down with a worn sponge. Alistair shifted on the sill, and watched her bath quickly, a light playing on his face.

‘I love you.’

She looked up from her ministrations, and beamed back at him, ‘and I you my love.’

 

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This is just the prologue! Setting up the story from the perspective of the Warden/Queen of Ferelden. Next chapter will be from Hawke's perspective, then back and forth between the two as their stories unfold and intertwine.