Alright, so here's my entry, since it wouldn't be fair to begin the thread and not contribute. It didn't quite start out that way, but now it looks like its something that's going to have to belong to my WIP, which I promise I will actually start putting up some day....
Kudos to Freckles for inspiring a bit of the story, to Sisi for telling me I could write fluff, and for the girls who helped decide who would win. ;-)
Alistair grinned as he snuck back into his room. He’d been looking forward to this day for weeks, especially when he realized they would be in Redcliffe when the day came around. He’d told Eamon to bugger off when the man would have scheduled political drill and preparation for the upcoming Landsmeet all day, and to his surprise, the Arl had smiled and not pressed the issue. Then again, he suspected Eamon wanted a holiday as much as everyone else. This day promised to be a feast of epic proportions as the whole town celebrated their Arl’s return to health, to make up for the bleakness of the past year.
He set down the laden tray he was carrying and made his way over to the bed and its occupant, still curled up in sleep. That he had managed to sneak out and fetch breakfast before she woke was a testament to her exhaustion – this day would be good for her. And a great deal of fun, he thought with a smile. He paused for a moment in admiration – he always loved to watch her sleep – then leaned over to kiss her awake.
“Good morning, love,” he said, as her eyes opened, sleep muddled at first then brightening as they met his. “Rise and shine, Kara dear, today is a special day.” He extended a hand to help her sit up, then pushed her gently back against the pillows. “The Dalish don’t celebrate Satinalia, do they?”
Her curious look was answer enough as he turned to retrieve the tray. “I thought not.” He set the tray down in front of her and seated himself on the other side. “Try some! Absolutely required tradition.”
He watched expectantly as she lifted a fork to her mouth, then grinned widely at the look of utter pleasure that formed on her face with the first bite. “I don’t think I’ve ever come close to putting that expression on your face before,” he teased. She scowled and mimed a swat at him, blushing.
“Hey now, no rough-housing or you’ll spill breakfast and make the housekeeper cry when she has to clean it up,” he said with a laugh. “And I’ll cry, if I don’t get to have any!” He took up his own fork and joined the elf in demolishing the plate before them.
“What is it?” she asked him. “I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful!”
“Pancakes with strawberries and whipped sweetened cream,” he told her around a mouthful. “I thought you might like it. I didn’t remember much in the way of sweets when we were with the Dalish.”
“We only get sugar when we trade for it with the humans, and my clan did that rarely enough. Our sweets usually just involve fruit and maybe honey, when we find it.” Between the two of them, they had nearly inhaled the formerly full plate.
“Well, just you wait. The festivities have only just begun!” Alistair pulled the now-empty platter away and rose with a wink. “Put on something pretty, and we’ll head down to the town. You’ll love it, I promise!”
When he returned from the kitchens, she had slipped into a linen shirt and flowing skirt.
“Will this do?” she asked, spinning so the skirt twirled around her.
He answered with an appreciative look as he walked over and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the door with boyish enthusiasm. “Let’s go!”
As they strolled down the path from the castle, the sounds of revelry could be heard, though the morning was still young. Many of the castlefolk journeyed the same road, some taking the steep path at breath-taking speed in eager anticipation of the festivities below.
“So tell me about this Satinalia,” Kara said as they walked at a slightly more sedate pace. “I don’t think my people have anything like it.”
“Well, let’s see,” Alistair mused for a moment. “It used to be a day dedicated to an old barbarian goddess, Zazikel, I think, but the Chantry renamed it after the second moon, Satina, when they took over. For the most part, it’s a day of wild revelry. You know. Feasting, public drunkenness, wild orgies in the streets.”
She looked at him skeptically, and he laughed. “Alright, maybe not that last one. But the other two, certainly. The nobles wait on commonfolk, the town fool gets crowned king for the day…dancing in the town square and the like. It was always my favorite holiday, growing up.”
His voice had grown wistful, remembering. “I used to look forward to this day every year. All the children got extra sweets, as many as we could eat, and a few coppers to spend on what we wanted for ourselves. Mine always went for cheese. I even snuck out of the monastery for a few Feastdays, until the brothers caught on and started setting extra guards in the dormitories. Feastday celebrations in the Chantry are….more subdued. Not nearly as much fun.” The laugh was a little more bitter this time, but his smile returned when he felt the sympathetic squeeze of the smaller hand in his.
“Right, what else…traditionally, it’s a day where people give gifts to each other.”
“Gifts?” she asked curiously.
“Yes.” His smile was more genuine this time, and he winked at her again. “You’ll see.” Further comments were stalled as the path opened up to reveal the town in all its festive glory. Banners draped the town square where musicians played for dancers already whirling partners around. Booths had cropped up all around the village – vendors of all items imaginable from weapons to jewelry to toys and food. The very air was alive with laughter and music. The boyish grin returned to Alistair’s face, and he pulled his beloved forward, eager to introduce her to all his favorite places.
Their first stop was, of course, his favorite cheese vendor, whom Alistair was delighted to discover was still in business, even after all these years. His joy reached indefinable peaks when the merchant recognized them as the Grey Wardens who had saved the town nearly a year previous and offered the pick of his stock, free of charge. They were in the middle of his fifth piece when a familiar voice interrupted.
“If I might be so bold, could I ask the lovely lady for a dance?” Bann Teagan Guerrin extended a hand towards the Dalish warrior with a courtly bow.
Kara glanced towards Alistair, who smiled and motioned her off. “Just behave yourself, Teagan,” he said, good humor in his voice.
“Why Alistair, I would never do anything to antagonize the future King of Ferelden,” Teagan protested, full of mock hurt.
“Thanks for the reminder,” he said with a scowl. “But it’s not me you should worry about. She’s armed, even if she doesn’t look it.”
“Alas, beautiful
and deadly,” Teagan sighed. “My lady, you are truly a treasure indeed!”
The elven Warden smiled at the complement and accepted the bann’s hand. “Enjoy your cheese, lethallin’an!” she called over her shoulder as he led her away to the square.
“Oh, I will,” Alistair chuckled. He noticed more than a few of the young women, and a respectable number of the older women as well, eyeing the pair with poorly veiled jealousy – Bann Teagan, it seemed, had made quite an impression on the female population of Redcliffe. The nobleman would likely not lack for dance partners, or partners for other activities, today at all.
As he savored a particularly lovely piece of cider-washed Dorset, Alistair alternated his attention from the square and its dancers to the booths that lined it. Bella, the recently elevated and rather enterprising owner of Lloyd’s bar, had opened her own kissing booth, and was doing brisk business. Across the way, children shrieked with glee as Wynne created magical butterflies for them to chase.
“Warden!” Alistair turned to see Oghren rumbling towards him. “That pot-bellied duster Teagan is holding a drinking contest later. You and the girl had better be there to watch me squash the competition!” Alistair assured him that they would be, though from the smell, the dwarf already had quite a head start.
A familiar voice rising in song drew his attention back to the main square, where Leliana had joined the musicians in a lively piece that he remembered from his youth. Kara and Teagan appeared to have stolen the show – the lithe elf was a quick study and made up for the steps she did not know with the agility and reflexes that served her well on the battlefield. The rest of the dancers had cleared the floor and lined the square, several clapping in time to the music. A growing number of the ladies, however, had murder in their eyes, directed at the pretty little elf who was so enthralling the handsome bann.
Alistair decided to intervene before a rather one-sided blood-bath could begin, and asked his cheese merchant to wrap up the next four pieces and send them up to the castle. He made his way through the crowd of irate women as the next musical set started up. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal my lady love back, Bann Teagan, before the two of you start a riot,” he said with a grin. “It seems there are quite a few young women here who would like a chance in your arms.”
Before the bann could reply, Alistair pulled his fellow Warden into the reformed line of dancers. They passed Zevran dancing with not one but several women, all who appeared quite taken with the suave elven assassin, who was doing his best to entertain them all at once. Bann Teagan whirled by, partnered with Wynne this time, and the two Wardens caught a passing warning about “younger men in my bed” from the elderly mage before the pair was out of hearing again.
As the set ended, the two Wardens made their way exhausted and laughing to a sweets vendor, where Alistair set about ordering more of his childhood favorites. They shared the goodies as they caught their breaths and rested tired legs.
With a very un-warrior-like giggle, Kara pointed to a beribboned area off to the side, where games and competitions had been set up for the children of the village. There, towering over most of the contestants, was Sten, impassive as always.
“What is he….Maker’s breath, is that a cake-walk?” Alistair wondered, as he shaded his eyes, trying to see. The pair snickered as one by one the children marched off, sweet prizes in hand until Sten alone was left empty-handed, then collapsed in helpless laughter as baker’s wife took pity on the Qunari giant and handed him a cake of his own.
Kara’s great Mabari hound bounded past, chased by a horde of the village children, and Alistair grabbed his Dalish companion’s hand one more and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go see the shops, they always have interesting things for sale at Satinalia.”
“You said something about gifts before?” she asked him as they made their way to the line of shopkeeps.
“Yes, its traditional to give something to family and friends, what have you, today,” he confirmed, eyeing the wares in the stall before them. “Do the Dalish not give gifts?”
“Not usually, no. Everything we own belongs to the clan as a whole. ‘My hand is as your hand,’ Master Ilen used to say. What kind of gifts?”
“All sorts of things. Take this, for instance” he said, picking up a book entitled “The Rose of Orlais”. “The perfect thing for Wynne, since she’s always reading.”
“Would you help me? Pick out gifts for our companions?” she asked him, and he agreed readily. They spent the remainder of the afternoon browsing the shops and filling Alistair’s arms with parcels and packages, something for each of the travelling companions who had aided them on the road to ending the Blight.
They passed by the dwarf Dwyn who had helped them defend Redcliffe, and stopped to examine his collection of weapons. Kara reached out to touch a sword, and her eyes narrowed. To Alistair’s surprise, she demanded the sword of the dwarf, who immediately wrapped the blade and handed it over. He often forgot how intimidating she could be and how wild and fierce the Dalish tattoos often made her appear to others. She moved on before he could ask about the sword though, and when he caught up to her again, her good mood had returned.
The two Wardens made their way over to the square again where Teagan’s drinking contest had begun – Zevran had moved to join Bella in her kissing booth and the two looked to be making a fine profit. The crowd laughed and cheered as contestant after contestant went down, leaving only two. In the end, a tie was declared between Oghren and Owen the blacksmith, as the two looked to drink the town dry before a winner could be declared.
Stumbling and bellowing a bawdy song, the two victors led the way back to the castle, where a fine feast was laid out in the courtyard. Arl Eamon waited the tables himself, along with his family and the castle knights. As the sky grew darker, the Arl, standing with his son and wife on the stairs leading up to the castle, gathered the attention of the celebrants.
“Though there is much to mourn, we also have much to celebrate this Feastday. Redcliffe has seen many dark days in the past year, but in the end, we have survived and rebuilt. We owe much of that to men and women who are present here today. My brother, Bann Teagan!” The crowd roared its approval as Eamon’s brother stood briefly. “And several more, who are honored guests this night. The Grey Wardens, Karaleyna of the Dalish and Alistair of Redcliffe, and their noble companions!” Again a thunder of approval and the embarrassed Wardens gave awkward waves before being allowed to sit again.
“Now, it is tradition that we name a king for the town on Feastday,” Eamon continued when the din had subsided.
“If it is a fool we are looking for
I nominate Alistair,” Morrigan commented. The dark-haired mage had declined to participate in the earlier revelries but had come down from her room for dinner.
“Arlessa Isolde, more like it,” Wynne commented acidly.
Leliana frowned from the other side of the table. “Why must it be a fool anyways? Isn’t that a little cruel?”
On the stairs where they stood, Connor whispered something into his father’s ear. Arl Eamon looked dubious at first, then resigned. “My son, it seems, has a nomination. Warden, if you would join us?”
Kara and Alistair looked at each other, momentarily confused, before Alistair sighed. “I think he means you, dear. Unless he wants to make me king early,” he muttered. “Go on.”
The elven Warden made her way up the stairs to join the Arl’s family, whereupon Connor proceeded to share his nomination with her. She laughed and turned to face the crowd below. She whistled shrilly and called “Anari! Come here, my friend.”
At her call, the great mabari hound leapt up from his place under the table and trotted the length of the courtyard and up the stairs. “Young Connor here wants to know if you’d like to be king,” she told the hound very seriously. “What do you think?” The mabari gave a great “Woof!” and proceeded to do his best to drown the boy in slobbery licks, much to the Arlessa’s disgust. “I believe that’s a yes, your grace,” Kara said with a smile.
Eamon sighed, though his smile was quick to return when he saw his son’s happy face. “So be it then. The hound is king of Redcliffe for the day!” He turned to the mabari. “Well, your majesty, what is your wish?” Anari let out another happy woof, and dashed down the stairs. He leapt on to one of the tables, grabbed a juicy ham hock from a startled soldier, and took off into the night to enjoy his prize.
“It seems our king is easily pleased.” The arl shook his head, though Connor was laughing in delight. “Enjoy the rest of the evening, my friends, and I hope you have had a happy Satinalia. Maker watch over you all.”
“Come on,” Alistair said eagerly as Kara returned to her seat. “Time for presents!” The two Wardens passed the gifts they had purchased earlier in the day to their companions. A new book for Wynne, and for Leliana blue suede shoes over which she cried out in delight. Oghren approved heartily of the flask they had purchased for him, and even more so of the brew within. Zevran was stunned speechless by the gift of fine Antivan leather boots – “They fit perfectly!” he exclaimed. Though Morrigan said little beyond a stammered thanks upon receipt of the golden mirror Kara had purchased for her, her eyes were suspiciously misty.
“Here, Sten,” the Dalish Warden said, handing the Qunari the wrapped sword she had taken from Dwyn.
“Parsharra, I have no use for such things,” the giant grumbled as he began unwrapping the blade. As the cloth fell free, he stopped, and put a hand reverently to the blued metal. “Asala.” His voice was awed and it was a moment before he could continue. “I believe you must be an arishok, to find one lost blade in a war-torn land. Thank you….kadan.”
“All right, that’s the lot of them. And now it’s time for my gift to you,” Alistair said with a smile, pulling his fellow Warden off to the side and into a more private alcove. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small package, pressing it into her hands. She unwrapped it to find a ring, simple in design save for the relief image of rose that twined its way about the band.
“I had it made in Orzammar. I had intended to give it to you…..after, but now Eamon intends to put me up as king. I never expected that, not in a million years.” He sighed and took her hands into his. “I can’t imagine being without you….not ever. You’re the first woman I’ve ever spent the night with, and if I have my way, you’ll be the last.”
“Alistair…” she began, but he stopped her.
“No, let me finish first. I don’t know what’s going to happen at the Landsmeet, but just in case…in case there’s no other way…well, I wanted you to know. How much you mean to me. And that I’ll marry you, if I can. That is, if you’ll say yes…” he trailed off, belatedly realizing she hadn’t given him an answer.
She threw her arms around him in reply, and he held her tight for a moment, relieved and yet still apprehensive all at once. When she finally pulled away, he was surprised to see sorrow in her grey eyes.
“I’ve never proposed to a woman before, but I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to be sad after saying yes. Marrying me can’t be that terrible, can it?”
“No! I mean, I
am happy, I just…I wish I had something to give you in return.” She looked away from him, unhappily. “I tried looking while we were in town, but nothing seemed right.”
“I’d say that yes is about the best Feastday present I could ask for, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose. But I, oh!” Her eyes went wide. “Wait here!” With that, she left, dashing up the stairs and into the castle. Bewildered, Alistair waited where he was until she returned breathless several minutes later. She handed him a cloth-wrapped bundle which he unwrapped curiously.
In the folds of the cloth lay an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it, lined with cracks. It was an amulet that he knew well, and thought he had lost forever.
“This is…this is my mother’s amulet. It has to be. But…why isn’t it broken? Where did you find this?”
Now there was a smile lighting her eyes again. “I noticed it in Arl Eamon’s study when we were here before. After we woke him up, I asked him about it. He gave it to me, and said I should give it to you. I didn’t understand then, but I think this is what he had in mind.”
“I thought I’d lost this to my own stupidity.” The words were soft as he remembered. “I wish I’d had this years ago. Thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
She stood on tip-toes to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed him. “So, good present then?”
“Mm,” he said against her lips.
“And did you have a good Satinalia?”
He smiled warmly, arms around the woman he loved. “My dear, it was the best I’ve ever had.”
Modifié par Sandtigress, 03 avril 2010 - 03:44 .
Ser Pounce-a-lot!!
.
Retour en haut