Chapter 92: Changing Plans

"Eamon's going to try to convince Alistair to break things off with you," I knew it, I just knew it... "and try to convince you to marry me."

"That's just so typical – I hate his elitist sh ... wait, what?"

He shushed me again. "He wants me to put aside Anora – you know that, and honestly, he may be right – and he thinks that if we can garner proof of you being the 'lost Cousland', I will gain support in the Landsmeet if I marry you, especially after what Rendon Howe did to your parents."

"What makes him-" My face was red, my voice increasing in volume and pitch, and Theron covered my mouth again. I lowered my voice and started again. "What makes him think I would agree to such a thing? I'd be a terrible Queen! I don't know anything about Fereldan politics, and no one in the Landsmeet knows me from Adam. Why... ?"

"Blood matters, to him, Sierra." He sighed. "And it honestly wouldn't occur to him that you'd have any say in the matter. Usually marriage alliances are negotiated with the family. You think Anora or I had a choice? He thinks he just has to convince Alistair to step aside, and then make a deal with Aedan or Fergus. What you want would never be an impediment, in his mind. As for your abilities – it wouldn't matter. If he was responsible for finding Ferelden a new Queen, he'd have a lot of power in the Landsmeet. He wouldn't expect you to be involved in the politics – he thinks you and I would be off somewhere acting clueless, leaving him to run the country."

I barked out a laugh. "He's in for a nasty surprise, then. Alistair isn't going to step aside." He wouldn't, would he? No. He wouldn't. "And I won't agree to the marriage. Neither would Aedan. I don't know what Fergus would think, but it doesn't matter."

I looked at Theron's face, arranged in a carefully neutral, mask-like expression. "It's not about you, Cailan." I hadn't called him Cailan since Lothering – it felt weird, but it seemed important to making my point. "I'm in love with Alistair, and he loves me. And I would truly be a terrible Queen. What Ferelden needs right now is not another puppet monarch, only with Eamon running the show instead of Loghain. Ferelden needs its King strong, and you need, eventually, to find someone who will help you, not push you aside or be incompetent beside you. You need a Queen, a real one, and that's not me."

"Just so you know, I don't agree with you about your competence. Not at all." He raised his hand to forestall my interruption. "But I know it's not what you want, and I would never get in the middle between you and Alistair. He's suffered enough from being disregarded by Theirin men."

I smiled softly. "Thank you, Cailan. Theron." I shook my head. "I hope you find what you're looking for, one day. Just don't marry Celene, or I'll kill you myself, even if it means Alistair becomes the King."

He laughed, briefly, and then his face fell. "Let's worry about what I'm going to do about Anora, first, before we plan my wedding to anyone?"

I winced. "Can I ask? You can tell me to screw off, but ... do you love her?"

He considered, which was really enough of an answer in itself. If someone asked me that about Alistair, I wouldn't have to hesitate. "I ... do, I suppose, but ... it's not romantic. I care for her, but I'm not in love with her, if that makes sense."

"It does. Hard to be married to someone in that situation."

"She feels much the same, which is why we managed to put up with each other, I suppose. She was rather better at the whole 'running a country' thing."

"If that was true, why is Loghain her regent? Why would she need a regent at all?"

He looked at me, eyebrows raised. "That's ... a very good point. A question I intend to ask her, when we get there."

"I get the impression Eamon's reasoning about you needing an heir is really just an excuse to oust Anora and get more power for himself."

"Definitely, though I'm guessing that's not the question you really want to ask." He smiled sadly, but not defensively.

"Well, the heir thing ... I mean, I hate to ask this, and you'll probably have my head chopped off or something, but ... are you sure, totally sure, that the issue lies with her?" I grimaced as the question popped out, seemingly without permission.

He sighed. "I am."

"I ... oh. You sound rather sure about that. Do you... ?"

He looked away. "Before I married Anora, there was someone. She would never have been able to be queen, and anyway Anora and I were betrothed at birth, so I wouldn't have had the choice even if Seinille wasn't an elf. She was beautiful, and kind, and smart, and funny ... she worked in the Palace, and, I suppose 'things led to things'. We had a daughter, Mara. You'd never have had to ask if she was mine – damn Theirin nose. I loved her more than anything I could ever have imagined. I provided for her, but I couldn't claim her as mine with an elven servant for a mother. When Father found out, he was so angry ... but he didn't come down as hard on me as I expected, which makes sense in retrospect. Despite his anger, he doted on Mara. Now I know he was probably looking for something of Alistair in her little face."

"Where is she now?"

He looked away. "Gone. There was a plague in the Alienage when she was two. I tried to get to them, I tried so hard ... but Father wouldn't open the gates. Wouldn't let me send for her. Said there'd be too much suspicion if we broke quarantine. I hired a smuggler to take in supplies – poultices, herbs, food ... but I know Seinille. She shared them with her neighbours. Nursed the sickest ones when no one else would. She used the last of the supplies on Mara when she got sick, but it wasn't enough. They both died."

"Oh, Theron, I'm so ... I'm so sorry." I'm such a bitch for bringing up this trauma. "It wasn't your fault. I can't even imagine..."

"No," he replied tiredly. "You can't. And I hope you never can. A year later Father died, and a few months after that Anora and I married. I tried to put it behind me. I wanted to be a good husband, but I wasn't ready. I couldn't cope with losing them all, and I withdrew totally. By the time I saw that, saw what was happening ... Anora and I had drifted even further apart, and I'd abandoned my duties so long that I was just in the way when I came back. So I just left her to it. And every month, when we hadn't conceived, Anora would be so sad ... she didn't want my comfort, so after a while I stopped offering. Played at being a hero, a warrior, and left her."

I considered his sad face for a moment before reaching up – he was almost as tall as Alistair, I noted – and pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry." It was all I had to offer, but I got the impression no one else had known, or if they had, none had offered any comfort at all.

He stiffened for a moment before hugging me back tightly, but just briefly. He turned away, composing himself, and when he turned back, his mask was back in place, jocular expression belying any emotion. He's a better actor than I gave him credit for.

"We had better be moving if we don't wish to be caught in here."

After peeking out the door of the closet, he offered me his arm again and ushered me out, walking me the rest of the way to my door. "Goodnight, my Lady." He kissed my hand, and I rolled my eyes when he winked at me. I went into my room, closing the door softly behind me, taking a big breath.

My things had been delivered to the room, and I changed into my usual linen sleepwear. A servant came by and asked if I'd like a bath; I declined, but did accept the offer of having food brought up.

"For two?" I requested, and she nodded quietly; I was grateful she didn't ask more questions than that. I'm sure most of the servants know anyway – seems to be how things work in this world. I wasn't sure that Alistair would risk coming to my room after his talk with Eamon, but I hoped he'd find a way. After my conversation with his brother and his with Eamon, I needed to be with him.

I picked at some food, read a little from a book I'd found in my room on Fereldan history, and finally dozed in the chair in front of the fire, still hoping. It was late when I was disturbed by a soft knock on my door. I stretched my neck as I crossed the room; I'd gotten a kink from sleeping sitting up. I opened the door to see Alistair looking haggard. I stepped back and he followed me inside, closing the door behind him.

He held out his arms to me, and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding as I fell into them. "Are you okay?" I asked.

I felt more than heard him nod. "Fine. Just tired."

"Theron told me what Eamon wanted."

He stiffened, and I stepped back slightly to be able to see his face. His hands tightened on my arms. "He did, did he?"

"Yes. He doesn't agree, Alistair. He wasn't trying to convince me. He was warning me."

He relaxed and pulled me to him again. "I told Eamon no."

"I know." I pressed my face into his chest, squeezing my arms around his waist.

"You didn't doubt me?" He looked down at me with a skeptical grin.

"No. Well, maybe for a moment. Like, a tenth of a second. And then I remembered it's you."

His smile was brilliant as he leaned down to claim my lips in a heated kiss. His voice was a low growl in my ear when he pulled away, leaning down to nip and suck at the skin on my neck. "Mine."

I moaned, arousal shooting straight through to my core as he pulled me even closer so I could feel him, already hard and ready, between us. "Yes. Yours."

He kissed me again, backing me against the wall, lifting me so my legs wrapped around his waist. He fumbled with my nightgown, finally managing to lift it up and off. "Mine."

I gasped as he ground his hips against me, the rough fabric of his trousers rubbing me intimately. I started fighting with the buttons on his shirt, biting his bottom lip until he hissed and rolled against me again. "Yours. I swear."

I finally got the shirt off him, scratching my nails down the smooth plane of his muscular chest. He was panting as he fumbled with the laces on his trousers, and then I finally felt the heat of him pressing up against my wet folds. He adjusted his grip on my hips and thrust, and then he was in me, filling me, stretching me delightfully, and I let out a long, ragged moan.

"Mine," he growled, then pulled back and thrust again, sheathing himself even deeper. "Mine."

He'd never been this possessive, never been this aggressive, and I should have been afraid or uncomfortable, but I wasn't. I loved it – the discomfort of his fingers digging into my hips, the smoothness of his skin against mine, the delicious sensation of fulfillment when he was inside me. I wanted him to own me, my body, just for that moment, the way he'd owned my heart since Lothering.

"Yours, yes, please Alistair..." I was babbling, alternating declaring my love for him and begging him for the release he was driving me towards. His steady pace and smooth thrusts took me higher and higher as his teeth sank into my skin, marking me, and I couldn't quite get there, despite reaching hard for my climax.

"Mine!" he roared, driving into me, and his erratic thrusts as he spilled himself finally sent me over, squealing his name and writhing in his grasp as my orgasm made my vision grey out and the room spin.

Seemingly without difficulty, he finally turned and laid me down on the bed, shucked his trousers, which had puddled around his ankles, then climbed up behind me to spoon my naked, sweaty form to him. I was so tired I could barely open my eyes.

"S'food over there," I gestured towards my little table, "if you're hungry."

"Thanks, but I'm not getting out of this bed until my legs stop shaking."

I grinned, falling asleep mid-chuckle.

I woke as the sun rose in the morning; shutters just aren't as nice as blinds for blocking the light, and I squinted as a shaft of early morning sunlight fell across my face. I was curled on my side, head on Alistair's shoulder, and when I looked up, I caught him looking down at me with a soft smile.

"'Cause that's not creepy." I grinned, and he chuckled.

"What can I say? You're gorgeous, and you look so peaceful when you sleep."

"You're forgiven." I turned my head, pressing my lips to his shoulder. "Oh, ugh. We reek."

"Yeah well, I figured we could have a shower later. I, um..." he flushed, and ran his hand nervously through his hair.