Chapter 21
Many thanks to Clariana (Maria13) for allowing me to borrow her character Chantal from The Rain in Val Royeux
, linked in my Favorites, for this chapter. I found that I couldn't imagine the city without a Chantal in it. My chapter will be a spoiler for that story so by all means read it first, because you're in for a treat. A hat tip also to CostinRazvan for his story The Battle of River Dane
. Empress Celene must have read it, too! I am grateful as always to my readers, reviewers and to my patient fanfic therapist SurelyForth. Dragon Age belongs to BioWare. -A.17 August, 9:29 Dragon Age. Champs de Concourse, Orlais.
Cailan's shock never turned to fury as Ellie had expected. Instead, he reached up to dab at the blood streaming down his temple and looked dumbly at the red on his glove before turning his eyes again to her. As retainers rushed to help him shakily to his feet, the king's shock was broken by a brief smile. "I should have known. You do like to see me on my knees, Elissa."
"It was for your own good, Your Majesty. I'll explain later."
He regarded her silently, then looked up at the crowd. As the attendants clutched at him to lead him away, Cailan shook them off. "Just like Loghain and Anora. The three of you are always so eager to bray at me about my own good."
Ellie was bleeding, too. Nowhere visible, but she could feel it oozing on her shoulder, and could already feel where the bruises would be. Between her and Cailan, Anya would have her hands full that evening. Keeping her voice steady, Ellie replied, "If you would listen more, we wouldn't have to shout."
Cailan spat blood into the dirt and lifted a hand, gesturing towards her. "I'm the king, and I decide what is best. That's all that matters."
9 August, 9:29 Dragon Age. Val Royeux.
Ellie woke with the bells. The early morning rousing was the one drawback of the astonishing view of the Grand Cathedral that the main window in her suite afforded. From high on the Mount of Fire, bells pealed out early for morning prayers and again for the evening Chant. She found that she couldn't comply with her bodyguard Alun Marwell's wish that she stay out of windows. Every morning since her arrival, Ellie rose at prayer time and watched the city wake up beneath her feet. Even early in the morning, there was a muted energy that was palpable. Denerim could not compare.
She was not the only one who was too restless to sleep. Alun was installed on a cot in the outer chamber, guarding the entrance to her suite. Anya's room was next door to the teyrna's. For several nights, Ellie had overheard them talking quietly in the parlor, late into the night. The friendship between the two attendants was obviously growing. Ellie hadn't asked Anya about it yet, judging the relationship still fragile. She was nonetheless pleased that at least Anya was not lonely. The days were busy, but at night Ellie missed her husband's company.
Loghain's face had been white as they stood together on Denerim quay some two weeks before, waiting for baggage to be loaded. The ships they were boarding were plain merchant vessels, not painted royal carriages, but Ellie knew that Loghain was thinking of a day four years earlier when they had said farewell to Maric. He had admitted as much when they lay curled together in their bed on the morning of her departure.
"I'm afraid you won't come back," he told her, giving in to much prodding. "And afraid you won't want to come back."
Ellie had waved off his fears, but after several days in Val Royeux understood them a little better. Not only the city itself, but the Orlesian court was like nothing she could have imagined. Even the most extravagant of Cailan and Anora's parties was a small, backward affair compared to the welcome ball the Empress had thrown for her Fereldan guests. As one after another of the court was presented to them, Ellie had had to remind herself not to gape. The Fereldans were mostly dressed in velvets, trimmed with gold and chain, close fitting. Some of them wore ceremonial armor. The Orlesian fashions, both clothing and hair, were works of gaudy, gravity-defying architecture. Both men and women were painted with cosmetics.
The most understated of the Orlesians was the Empress. Her gown was elaborate and her blonde hair was curled in hundreds of perfect ringlets, but her look was simple compared to that of her Orlesian guests. Perhaps she was trying to be good hostess, navigating a middle road between Ferelden and Orlais. Cailan was obviously impressed. Many ladies sought to dance with him and he indulged them all, but the empress always got him back at her side. Ellie found Celene both beautiful and charming. Loghain would have said that her charm was artifice, but if it was, then the ruler of Orlais had mastered it.
She soon came to think the same about a young woman who presented herself to Ellie at breakfast the morning after the ball. If she had been at the party, Ellie hadn't noticed her under the wigs and makeup. The young woman introduced herself as Chantal. She was a head shorter than Ellie and far more petite, her blonde hair cut a few inches above her shoulders.
With a sweet smile she said in Orlesian, "You are the Lady Cousland-Mac Tir, no? Do you understand my language?"
"
Un peu," Ellie replied. In her youth, Bryce and Eleanor had insisted that Ellie learn some Orlesian and had hired a local clerk to teach her. Ellie had a quick mind for arithmetic and history, but trying to wrap her tongue around Orlesian was a different matter. The years had not improved her grasp. Bryce had attempted to practice with her on the ship, but her few attempts to speak it in Val Royeux had left the Orlesians either puzzled or laughing. Usually both.
"Then you need the practice," Chantal replied, laughing. She was speaking with a careful enunciation that reminded Ellie of the few actresses she had met in Denerim. The woman might be a singer, or a dancer, petite as she was.
Or a bard, Ellie heard Loghain saying, as clearly as if he were standing right next to them. That seemed more likely as she explained further. "I am to be your guide in Val Royeux. Anything you desire to see or do, anything you need, allow me to provide for you."
Ellie paused, shy of speaking. There was nothing for it if she were to act the diplomat, however, so she finally plunged ahead. "That is kind but not necessary."
Chantal clapped delicately. "You don't speak as poorly as I had heard, my lady. In any case I find the Fereldan accent charming. As to necessity, that you enjoy your visit, for us that is quite necessary. Do not be modest."
There was one way in which the young woman, whoever she was, might be useful. "Very well," Ellie replied. "I would like to see the Cathedral."
The empress' seneschal verified that Chantal was Celene's representative, and a time was arranged for that afternoon for the Cathedral visit. The sight of an Orlesian royal carriage accompanied by Fereldan royal guard drew stares all along the narrow streets. Slow as their progress was, Ellie had plenty of time to stare back. Occasionally Chantal commented on a landmark or, as they began to climb the Mount of Fire, on the monasteries and park grounds they passed. Finally they arrived at the Cathedral, entering through a side door that led through a small chapel.
Once inside the main sanctuary, Ellie found herself once again gaping, this time at the height of the vaulted ceilings that seemed to catch sounds and convert them all into a hushed whisper, and at the elaborate carvings depicting scenes in the life of Andraste and the history of the Chantry. Elves walked along slender ledges high above them, lighting lamps as even the little sun let in by small windows was lowering. At the altar, enormous braziers burned. As in the much smaller Fereldan chapels, there were priests and sisters praying before each brazier, offering an unbroken chain of prayers to the Maker.
Ellie had her neck craned back looking at the carvings high above her and nearly tripped over a small figure bent on one knee, in prayer before a bank of candles. It was Chantal. It felt odd to pray here, as though this place had very little to do with the modest chapel at Highever or the slightly larger one in the Denerim palace, or even Denerim's cathedral. Still, the Maker was the Maker even here. Getting down on one knee next to Chantal, Ellie tried to make her thoughts quiet enough to follow the thread of the ritual prayers she had learned from Mother Mallol.
In the end her prayers turned to Loghain and to Gareth. Loghain's work often took him away, but Ellie had never been so long apart from her son nor so far away. She could almost convince herself that he was around the corner somewhere with Anya, that he would run into her arms, give her one of his father's scowls and ask her where she had been so long. Her argument to Loghain and herself had been that she was part of this diplomatic mission for Gareth's sake. Weeks apart from her son had left the logic of that rationale feeling strained.
Eyes opening, Ellie whispered, "Keep them safe, my two men. Holy Maker, shield them. Don't let my sweet boy be sad without me." Tears made the flame of the candles dance. She felt in her pocket for the wooden horse and rider whose Gwaren crest was almost worn off. Gareth had once given it to his father when he was going away, and Loghain had carried it with him on every journey since. At the quay, he had pressed it into Ellie's hand.
When she rose, brushing at her eyes, Ellie saw that Chantal had already finished her own prayers and was regarding her with a concerned smile. "All well, my lady?"
Embarrassed, Ellie nodded. "I miss my husband and son. They are in Denerim."
"The Hero of the River Dane, yes?"
It was strange to hear the term rendered into Orlesian. The words were not far off from the Fereldan, but pronounced quite differently. So that was how Loghain was known to his enemies. "Yes," Ellie replied, moving off towards the main altar. She wanted to put off the awkward discussion of Loghain's history that was bound to come eventually. The holy sanctuary was not the place for it.
Alun was instantly at her elbow, as he had been nearly every moment since they boarded the ship. When Ellie realized that her guards were pushing back those who were entering for the evening prayers, she tried to order them off. Every soldier accompanying the royal entourage had been handpicked by Loghain, however, and Ellie knew they didn't really answer to her.
Finally she gestured to Chantal that they should leave. As they made their way towards the side entrance, Ellie heard a woman call out "Maker bless you, Princess."
Chantal did not acknowledge the call, but at the door Ellie paused and turned to her with a raised brow. "Princess?" Ellie knew that Celene had been briefly married in her early years on the throne, a match that ended with the young man's death. It was whispered that the empress got what she wanted out of her consort in her children and removed him herself. Nevertheless she had never guessed that her guide was one of Celene's own blood rather than a handmaiden bard.
The blonde woman smiled sweetly. "I am the youngest, and we shall make no ceremony. It is the Fereldan way, yes? Just Chantal to you."
"Then you must call me Ellie."
Outside, Ellie diverted her guard so that she could see the main plaza before the Cathedral. Beggars and cart merchants looked to be fixtures, but others were apparently on their way to hear the evening Chant. They broke around the ring of Fereldan guards like water, staring and whispering, before continuing up the steps to the Cathedral. The sun was just about to set behind its spires. Ellie turned her head this way and that, listening to the cacophony of Orlesian. For a moment she imagined what she was hearing were the shouts of soldiers on a battlefield, that the crowds were turning on her with swords drawn. How many times had Loghain heard such voices calling out to the Maker as he ran his sword through them? Perhaps it was why he never joined her when she went hear to chapel. Soon the voices were drowned out by the peal of the cathedral's bells. Ellie watched the scene a little longer before she gave in to Alun's urging to leave the crowded square.
The subsequent days were taken up with meetings with tradesmen. Ellie accompanied Bryce, he speaking for Highever and she mostly for Gwaren. The traders were almost entirely male and not inclined to take a young woman seriously. At least with the merchants she could speak the common tongue, and all of them understood profit. Gwaren also had the most to offer because the Orlesians were the least familiar with its wares, the distance only a little further than Denerim. Ellie produced samples of timber, pouches of best quality mineral ore, and longbows engraved in the Chasind style. It was difficult to gauge how sincere the interest was. Only time and the exchange of gold coin would tell that. If it did, her teyrnir guildsmen would thank her even if Loghain did not.
Ellie did not see Chantal for several days, finally meeting her again at a dinner hosted by Celene.
"I have been hearing reports about you, Madame Ellie," the princess said as she approached. "All the city knows that you are here now, the clever young wife of the Hero of River Dane. Since you have been working so hard in the trade halls, shall we not do something more pleasant tomorrow? A small garden party, for women only. So many of our ladies would like to meet you."
The party was held at the estate of a widowed marquise on the city's outskirts, and Chantal had not been exaggerating that it was for women only. Alun insisted on accompanying her, and he held to his duty bravely even when it turned out he was the only man in a parlor full of perfumed ladies, apart from a butler who came and went announcing new arrivals. Rain kept the party indoors, and as the number of guests grew, doors were opened to the adjoining rooms.
Ellie was relieved that Chantal had at least exaggerated the interest in her. Other than the princess and the marquise hostess, few seemed to know who she was until it was explained to them, and she received more than one disdainful examination of her clothes and hair. Female-only party it might be, but the women looked like they had spent all morning at their dressing tables. Ellie wondered that they managed to breathe in their corsets, and not topple over on their high shoes held to their feet with the most delicate of ribbons.
The guests kept to their small cliques, chattering or playing doublets or les échecs. Ellie joined in as she could, but was starting to feel bored and out of place when Chantal appeared at her elbow. "Madame Ellie, a few of us are retiring to another room where we might be more comfortable. Would you join us?"
It sounded like a fine idea. In her simple silk dress, Ellie had no need of greater comfort, but she couldn't doubt some of the less pretentious Orlesians would appreciate a chance to put their feet up. She was curious to see what informality looked like in Orlesian circles. Ellie followed Chantal into the small side parlor, Alun right behind them. She paused at the door of the salon, glancing around the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dark-haired woman stretched out on a divan, a lady with red hair seated at her feet and unlacing the ribbons of the woman's shoes, removing them and massaging her friend's feet. So it was true that the shoes were as uncomfortable as they appeared.
A plump young woman she had met earlier spied her at the door and smiled, gesturing for Ellie to join her. Ellie started forward, trying to recall the woman's name before she had to ask it again. Had it been Eloise? Justine? It was so hard to remember. When she glanced back at the divan, Ellie froze in her tracks. The dark-haired woman had lifted her skirt up to her thighs, and her companion was kissing the woman's feet rather than massaging them. Ellie stood transfixed for a moment, watching as the red-haired woman's kisses moved from a pair of delicate ankles up towards the exposed thighs. The dark-haired woman had rested her head back on the divan, and soon began coiling fingers into her companion's hair, loosening it from its clips and letting the auburn coils free.
Ellie started and turned as someone said her name. It was Chantal, smiling at her and reaching for her hand. "Come, Madame Ellie. You needn't be embarrassed. Perhaps your guard could wait outside this time, yes?"
Mumbling, Ellie took a step back. "I... I'm sorry, Chantal. There is some mistake. Please excuse me."
She fairly pushed Captain Marwell back out into the main parlor. Her heart was still beating fast as Ellie found a quiet corner near the garden door where the air was not so close. The double doors had been thrown open despite the rain, and though she was occasionally splattered by a drop blown in by the breeze, the fresh air was welcome. Ellie tried to collect her thoughts. Some of her acquaintances had confessed that their lovers did not include only men, but such matters were rarely treated so casually in Ferelden. It was just the surprise that rattled her, Ellie told herself. Nevertheless she could not deny that as she looked back towards the closed door, she was curious.
When she glanced back again, Chantal was in the doorway, looking around the parlor. The princess spotted Ellie at the garden entrance and crossed towards her. Her blonde hair was mussed, and as she approached Ellie noticed that the princess' small, rounded lips were reddened with kissing, her brow moist with perspiration. Despite herself, Ellie stared at the princess' mouth a moment longer than she intended.
Sighing, Chantal straightened the bone of her corset, then gestured towards a maid who was serving cups of wine and cordials. "Come sit with me," she said, gesturing towards an empty table nearby. When they had taken a seat, Chantal chose a glass of white wine from the maid's tray, gestured for Ellie to do the same, and went on, "I hope we did not offend, Madame Ellie."
"No, no, princess. Of course not. I was surprised, that's all." She forced a smile.
"
Ah bien." Chantal dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief, took a sip of wine, then laughed. "More than one of the ladies was sorely disappointed that you left. You are something of a rarity for us, you see."
Ellie was afraid to ask. "How so?"
Chantal gestured towards her. "So strong. I think you are a warrior, yes? Like Aveline of the tales. Yet your hands, they have the fine, long fingers of a bowmaiden."
Sure that her cheeks were hot enough to raise the temperature in Denerim, Ellie stammered, "I... thank you. I don't... That is, I have not..."
Laughing once again, Chantal shook her head in disbelief. "Dear Ellie, it is as though you were a maid. Is it such a surprise for you? Many of my friends are married, as well. Some of them, like you, have husbands who are much older, men they married for politics and not for love. If we presumed, it was only because we guessed you were a like spirit. In any case, it is only a few moments' diversion away from the eyes of the court, some pleasure to ease the boredom of the daily routine."
"I see." Ellie smiled, a little more genuinely. She studied her wine glass, unsure what else to say but feeling Chantal's eyes on her.
"Do you have no lovers at all?" The princess sounded skeptical, even concerned.
"I have one."
Chantal nodded, smiling. "Ah, and you are loyal to him. I understand."
Ellie was sure that the princess did not understand, and that she assumed that the lover was someone other than Loghain. The realization made Ellie feel peculiar, as though in this company she was the scandalous one and was about to make a shocking confession. "I mean my husband. We did marry for politics, but I have grown to love him and want no other."
The princess appeared surprised, but after a moment laughed. "
Ça alors, Ellie, but you are more of a rarity than we thought."
On the way home from the party, the carriage passed by a large building that Ellie first took for a chapel, but which Chantal explained was the city's largest hospital and medical faculty. The sight reminded Ellie of something she had heard Anora discussing with Loghain. Ferelden's queen wanted to improve Ferelden's uneven patchwork of Chantry schools and to introduce a university faculty to Denerim, but the royal accounts weren't able to support it and the Chantry wasn't forthcoming. Ellie realized that Anora might at least be interested to see how such schools operated in Orlais. Chantal obliged by organizing tours of several academies.
Occupied as she was, Ellie had not been able to comply with Loghain's wish that she keep a close eye on Cailan. Alun, at least, was able to follow the king's activities through his contacts with the other guardsmen. They reported that the king spent a great deal of time with the empress, and went out less than Ellie did, mostly receiving Orlesian visitors in his apartments at the palace. He had received several night calls from Orlesian courtesans, but was keeping to security protocols. This was the most surprising news Alun had for her. Since his youth Cailan had been infamous for his ability to give his guard the slip, earning the nickname the Rogue Prince. It was what allowed him to take such full advantage of Ellie's visits to Denerim. Ellie wondered if Loghain's warnings had finally sunk in, or if the trip to Val Royeux was enough of a roguish adventure in itself to satisfy him.
Ellie couldn't be certain, but the description of one of the courtesans who had visited Cailan in the night sounded a great deal like Chantal. The princess was obviously a designated Fereldan ambassador. Chantal could speak some Fereldan, but it would not have taken much digging to learn that Cailan was also fluent in the language of the boudoir. There was little doubt that the king had received Chantal's advances more willingly than Ellie had.
Late one afternoon Ellie received a message inviting her to Celene's private apartments for breakfast the following morning. A royal escort met her at her suite an hour after the bells. This proved to be more than a courtesy. Celene occupied an entire wing of her vast palace, and the network of marble hallways was bewildering. Surrounded as she was by a small army of Fereldan guard and the Orlesian escort, it took them a half hour. They remained in the hallway at the empress' suite, trying to outdo each other in looking impressive. Alun and Anya accompanied Ellie inside.
Ellie found Celene fresh-faced and her blonde ringlets immaculate, dressed in a simple shift and robe that looked little more formal than a dressing gown. The three women sat in a sunny alcove of ringed with delicate sculpture and orchids. Alun stood at the door, his face the usual impassive mask he assumed when on duty.
"Shall I call you Lady Cousland or Lady Mac Tir? Or Teyrna?" Celene asked Ellie while servants uncovered chafing dishes and poured tea.
"Lady Mac Tir, please. Or simply Elissa if you prefer." From the thoughtful look the empress gave her, Ellie guessed that this question had been a test of sorts.
They spoke of Chantal and of the things Ellie had seen and undertaken during her stay. Ellie presented her idea of having guest lecturers from Orlais visit Ferelden to teach, beginning with a teaching physician she had met at the hospital who knew some Fereldan. She would raise the funds for a stipend herself, she insisted, declining the empress' offer to contribute.
Celene laughed gently. "You wish to maintain Fereldan independence even in this. Very well, Madame Mac Tir. Write to us when you are ready and the arrangements will be made." After a silence, the empress went on, "Tell me about your husband. I have been able to learn something of him from the men who fought him, and your king has told me more. However I wish to know of the man, not the legend or the advisor."
"I do not know what you wish to hear, Majesty. Loghain is not a political sort. As he seems to his men and in his public life, so he is."
"I am told that he is ruthless and cunning, that he kills with a cold eye. When the rebels could not afford to take prisoners at River Dane, they cut their throats on Commander Loghain's orders. To many of the older officers in our armies, he is known as the Butcher of River Dane."
Celene was watching her as she spoke. Another test. Perhaps the empress meant to shock her, thinking her naive. Lifting her eyes, Ellie answered calmly, "I am aware. Surely you are also aware of the butchery that your people perpetrated on our country, on soldier and innocent alike." She paused. "Since we are being frank with one another, Your Majesty, tell me something. Why are you so different from your predecessors? Is it because you are a woman, or is there something else?"
The empress smiled. "Don't you really mean to ask if I truly am different than them, or if I only seem to be? Madame Mac Tir, how shall I recount my country's history in such a short time, or that of my family? It would bore you. Let me compare it to
le vin. In its youth, the juice of the grape is bright but fickle. When it rests, it learns patience, it learns the reward that hides in subtle things. I make no apology for the actions of my fathers. What they did, it made us stronger, both your country and mine. However I do not share their appetites. I love poetry, sculpture, and
le dans. I want to remind my people of such things. They cannot remember to appreciate them when they are occupied with conquest."
"Then you do not intend again to make war on Ferelden?"
Celene laughed and clapped her hands, looking much like Chantal as she did so. "Very good, madame, very good. Now I truly know that the Hero of River Dane sits before me."
Ellie remained sober. "Perhaps I have been influenced by my husband, but if that is so, then you should know I am as stubborn as he is. Please answer my question. Too many people suffered for us to make light of it here."
"But look what their suffering has gained. You and I, the children of this war, sit peacefully in my home in Val Royeux and drink tea together. You will soon return to your country having, so I hope, made friendships and valuable alliances here. This work is slow, it is painful to learn to trust one another. I, Celene, speak for Orlais now, and I tell you that we wish nothing but peace and friendship with our honorable neighbors."
It was what Ellie expected to hear, but there was nothing to do but accept it. "I hope you will remember your promise, Majesty. But forgive me, I did not intend to spoil our breakfast with politics."
"Not at all. I admire your determination. If I am well informed, it is a trait you share with your queen, no? A pity that I could not meet Queen Anora. I have watched her career from afar with admiration."
"I shall pass on your greetings, thank you."
Celene sipped at her tea, going on without missing a beat. "I have heard rumor, in fact, that you might have become the queen of Ferelden instead of Anora."
Somehow Ellie managed not to choke on her biscuit. Of course Celene would have heard the rumors. If the canny empress had watched Anora's career, then surely she had been watching the rivals as well. It seemed that her indiscretions were going to follow her her entire life and even across Ferelden's borders. The biscuit bought Ellie some time while she considered whether or not to be candid. She decided that there was no point in denying what the empress already knew. Nodding, she answered, "I was Cailan's lover at one time, before our marriages and his coronation. That was a long time ago. I am now devoted to my husband, as the king is to Anora." Bards mixed truths with lies, Ellie had heard. She decided to test out the theory. The empress would know of Cailan's infidelities, but she need not know that they were anything more serious than bored noblewomen pleasuring each other at a party.
The empress smiled. "An admirable loyalty. Yet do you not sometimes regret missing your chance to be queen?"
"I am not an ambitious woman, Your Majesty. Serving as teyrna to a small but important port of Ferelden suits me well." Ellie paused, then added, "My choice of husband also suits me."
"And you suit him. Is it not so, Madame Mac Tir?"
Ellie smiled. At least in this she could be genuine. "I hope so."
A secretary interrupted them to bring the empress a message. Celene read it, expression unchanging, then put the note aside. After a moment, she asked, "Are you still friends with your king, Madame Mac Tir? Do you still admire him, as you must once have done?"
She must be careful now, Ellie knew. Not even a tic of expression should give her away. "I love Cailan as a subject loves her liege, Majesty. I look upon him in friendship as I always did."
"Then you should know that he is in danger." Celene lifted a hand. "No, not in any mortal danger. All of Val Royeux knows that they would earn my undying vengeance if any of your party were to be harmed. It is his pride that is under threat. I would like you to ally with me in seeing that even this does not suffer at the whims of my countrymen. Will you help me play a little game?"
Baffled, Ellie replied cautiously, "I will do whatever is necessary to help Cailan, Empress."
"Marvelous. I ask because I have heard something else about you, Madame Mac Tir. I have heard that you are very good with a sword."
17 August, 9:29 Dragon Age. Champs de Concourse, Orlais.
It was over. As Cailan walked away, Ellie turned back to the crowd and realized at last what it was that they were shouting. The Orlesians were cheering wildly, and many of them were calling out a name.
"Aveline! Aveline! Aveline!"
It was then that Ellie understood the empress' game. Aveline of Orlais was a female warrior who entered the lists of a tournament, though at the time it was forbidden for women to do so or to serve at all in the famed chevaliers. Aveline kept her helmet on and defeated all challengers, even a prince. When her identity was revealed during a fight, the jealous competitor killed her, goaded on by the jeering crowd. The warrior got her own revenge when that Orlesian prince became emperor himself, knighting her posthumously and turning her into a national legend. Celene knew that the one thing her countrymen would enjoy more than an Orlesian victory was a bit of theater paying homage to one of their heroes, with the role of Aveline played by the wife of the Hero of River Dane.
At their breakfast meeting, Celene had informed her that several Orlesian nobles were preparing a grand mêlée and had challenged Cailan to enter the competition. Over his guard's objection, Cailan was determined to accept. Ellie knew better than the empress that Ferelden's young king would never back down from a chance to flaunt his skills in battle. The nobles, Celene revealed, intended to cheat, stacking Cailan's lists with bought men who would throw the fights and cause the king to become overconfident. They then intended to put their best fighter, Ser Reynaud Agen, in the final against Cailan, hoping that he should humiliate the young king in front of the Orlesian crowd.
When asked why noblemen would resort to such tricks when they could achieve the same ends by simply having Agen challenge Cailan directly, Celene smiled and replied that Orlesians preferred subtle games. "But no one plays better than I do, Madame Mac Tir. We will have a bit of fun, you and I. In the end, Fereldan honor will remain intact, and the people will love it all the more."
Ellie had seen no other choice but to agree. Even if she could persuade Cailan that the Orlesians intended to cheat, it would only make him more determined to beat their champion. Keeping her identity secret would not only allow Celene to run her little game, but would also permit Ellie to keep an eye on things, to overhear competitor gossip without giving herself away as Fereldan, and thus to recognize any threats to Cailan that were more dire than a strike at his pride. It was for that reason only that Alun agreed to the plan as well.
She was given an Orlesian squire to help maintain her facade. Celene had Ellie fitted out with a set of silverite armor, battered enough to look like the kit of a hedge knight or a lesser nobleman's son, and a helmet with red plume. Ellie insisted on using her own sword, a dwarven weapon forged in Gwaren, but accepted an unpainted Orlesian shield. Chantal was drawn in to the conspiracy, arranging late-night practices for Ellie since it had been several weeks since she had practiced and her arm was dull. She would not be any help to Cailan if she lost in the first round. Bryce had to be brought into the plan, since he would have to make excuses for her. Ellie waited until the morning of the competition to tell him. He made one last attempt to dissuade Cailan from competing, and when that failed, came back to Ellie and told her to go ahead.
Ellie was entered as a last-minute addition, with the sponsorship of some country relative of Celene's. After easily defeating her first several opponents, she began to suspect that the empress had bought off competitors on her behalf. Nevertheless she saw the same weaknesses in the other fights, and it accorded with what Loghain had told her about the chevaliers and Orlesian gentry. Only nobles and knights fought in such contests, and these wanted above all to outdo each other in their own strict traditions. This made them conservative and predictable. In contrast, the strength of Fereldan warfare since the rebellion was in its flexibility. Rebel forces had been forced to improvise and then improvise again in order to survive, and Loghain saw that they never forgot those lessons. Bryce was a product of the same experience and had hired an Antivan trainer to supplement Ellie's lessons. In her practices first with her father and then with Loghain and Cauthrien, they were always trying to outwit one another. The chevaliers would have done well to learn from their own bardic fighters, but their honor would not allow it. Loghain would be pleased to hear that this hadn't changed.
Whether by Celene's design or chance, not all of the fights were easy. Ellie struggled first against a young nobleman in splendid white-painted silverite armor and again when facing the only other woman in the competition. The white knight had also studied Antivan techniques, and in the end Ellie beat him by sheer luck. The other female competitor was simply hungry to prove herself. This very desperation was her undoing, but Ellie did not take the round from her gladly. Nevertheless she was not at all sorry to humiliate Ser Reynaud. The great bull of a man took a long time to beat. He sorely did not want to lose to the mysterious upstart who refused to doff his helmet. Ellie was younger, however, and her long practices paid off in endurance. Finally Agen also was compelled to yield.
The noblemen who had arranged for Cailan's humiliation must have been very nervous at that point, but in at least one respect they had calculated accurately. The Fereldan king had won all his contests, too, and not all of these were weak contests. By the time he faced the mysterious red-plumed knight, Cailan's confidence could not be shaken by a slender challenger. Ellie could hear him laughing with his squires as he prepared to face her.
After only a few minutes of fighting, he was not laughing anymore. Ellie had to bring all her speed and wits to bear. Cailan had been trained by Loghain, too, and it showed. She did not need to beat him, and in fact she intended only to let him show well for himself and then she would yield. This was not in Celene's plan, but Ellie had no wish to defeat Cailan. He had shown well for himself and deserved to win, and he was her sovereign. In an overconfident moment, however, the king rushed her and Ellie was forced to bring up her shield. It took Cailan in the face, staggering him and drawing blood. Seeing the blood and Cailan struggling to rise, she decided that it was time to end the farce.
"Enough, Cailan," she said, stepping back. Dropping her shield, Ellie removed her helmet and shook her hair free.
The crowd had been cheering what they thought was a new Orlesian champion. When Ellie revealed herself, they fell silent in bewilderment. A few from the court recognized her as one of the Fereldans. There was a murmur of discontent and confusion before someone took up the name of Aveline. Before long the rest of the crowd joined in, clapping and throwing flowers onto the tournament field. The empress had been right. The people recognized that there was a game afoot, and quickly forgave the fact that a Fereldan had won the tournament after all. It was obvious, the crowd assumed, that the Fereldans were but paying homage to the great Ser Aveline d'Orlais.
Ellie watched Cailan walk from the field, then turned to scan the cheering crowd. Among them she saw only one pair of eyes that were not fixed on her. All of Val Royeux nobility was acclaiming the new Aveline, but Empress Celene's eyes never wavered from the retreating Fereldan king.
9 Kingsway, 9:29 Dragon Age. Denerim.
When Ellie first caught sight of them from the deck of the ship, Gareth was perched on Loghain's shoulders. He spotted her, as well, and began to kick so hard that Ellie thought Loghain would surely have bruises on his cheeks and shoulders. It was Gareth, too, who broke through the crowds on the quay and met her first, Cutha right behind him. Catching Gareth up in her arms, Ellie held the three year-old fast and rocked him, then turned to shower his cheeks with kisses until he laughed and pushed at her face to defend himself.
"You came back, mamma," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Ellie laughed, though tears also sprung to her eyes. "So it seems. Did you miss me?"
Gareth nodded, though just as she had predicted, he then gave her a fierce Loghain scowl. "Don't do it again, mamma, okay? You went away too long. I didn't like it. Don't do it again, okay?"
"I know, pet. I know. I won't do that again, not for a long time." Her eyes met Loghain's across the top of Gareth's head.
Stepping forward, Loghain leaned in sideways, slipping an arm around her waist and giving her a kiss that was longer and more intense than he usually allowed in public. Releasing her, he said, "We'll hold you to that promise."
Ellie smiled and shook her head. "You won't have to. I wanted nothing more than to come back."
End chapter 21.
Modifié par Addai67, 01 février 2011 - 05:13 .
- a state visit was bound to happen eventually, in one direction or the other. Cailan just hurried it up a bit.
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I always liked Cailan's character in the game and it's interesting to see good stuff like this written from the little we actually got (it wasn't enough, I tell u). As for the praise, better believe it 
The most interesting fantasy is made of real-life issues.
