38 réponses à ce sujet

[Freckles04]

Auditions was one of my most popular stories, and I've had lots of requests for a sequel. So here it is. It's still a work in progress, but it's nice to have this story to turn to when Kiann in An Opaque Mirror gets dramatic. I hope I've managed to continue to capture what made Auditions so much fun. Enjoy!

---

Terris of River's Ford smoothed her hands over the skirts of her best dress for the fifth time in half as many minutes.  Beside her, her older sister Stella pointed out changes to the buildings their carriage passed.  It had only been a couple of months since they had last visited Denerim, but apparently a favorite dress shop had closed, replaced by a bakery, of all things, and Stella had already spotted three new merchants she wanted to visit.  Terris cared little for such mundane, unimportant things.  Her mind was otherwise occupied.

Dear Maker.  She was going to see him again.

She smoothed her skirts and swallowed as Stella continued to prattle on about something.  What if he didn't like her anymore?  What if he took one look at her and changed his mind?  It could happen; they'd only spent a week together, after all, and it was so long ago.  She could barely picture his face with any clarity--

Wait.  No, she could.  That strong nose, the laughing hazel eyes, the ever-present stubble on his chin.  Oh, she could picture him perfectly, like she'd seen him only an hour ago.  Her heart, her traitorous heart, thumped against her breastbone and she resolutely turned her mind's eye away from him.

"Are you nervous, sister?"  Stella looked at her with twinkling eyes that said she already knew the answer.

Terris pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head.

"You are a terrible liar."  Stella leaned back into the cushions of the bench and crossed her arms.  "There's nothing to be nervous about, dear sister.  It's not as if you're marrying the King--"  Her smile grew.  "Oh, wait."

"Funny.  Really."  Terris pushed back the heavy curtain draped over the window beside her and watched the stone and wood of the buildings meander by.

"Shall I tell you the rumors I've heard?"

"No."

Stella leaned forward eagerly, her eyes bright.  "It's said that he spars regularly with his Chancellor, the mage."

Terris shrugged.  "They were both Grey Wardens.  That doesn't seem so surprising."

"It doesn't frighten you to know that the man you're marrying still has such capacity for violence?"  Stella snorted delicately and shivered.  "It's so dangerous.  I find it exciting, but I thought you, dear sister, should know.  You're not the most physical of people, after all.

"Let's see, what else?  Oh!  Oh, this one…it's been said that he needs to travel to the Deep Roads once every two months…"  Stella's eyes widened.  "To acquire darkspawn blood.  And drink it."

"Maker's mercy, Stella."  Terris glared at her sister.  "That's insane."

"He's had a number of diplomatic visits to Orzammar, far more than his brother or father ever undertook."  Stella gave her a pointed look.  "It could be true."

"You are such a fool."

"A fool, am I?  Well, then you won't want to hear the best one."  She looked out the window and clamped her mouth shut.

Terris eyed her sister and chewed on her lower lip.  Maker, why did she let Stella get to her?  She huffed out a breath.  "Fine.  Tell me."

Stella leaned forward again, her entire body vibrating with excitement.  "This one is a little naughty," she said, smiling wickedly.

"Oh, dear Andraste…"

"It's said…"  Stella's smile grew.  "That our dear King is an innocent."

"A…"  Terris frowned.  "I don't understand."

Stella rolled her eyes.  "You are so dense sometimes.  A virgin?  Never been with a woman?"

"Oh.  Oh."  Terris's cheeks heated.  Well, that news…wasn't so bad.  She was, too.  It might make for an awkward wedding night, but--

Holy Maker, she was not going to think about that.

"But that isn't the best part."  Stella shifted, too excited to contain herself.  "I've heard that the reason he's…innocent…is that his tastes as a Grey Warden are, well…rough."

Terris's stomach clenched.  "Rough how?"

"Grey Wardens are not normal.  You do know that much, right?"

"I'm not an idiot, Stella."

"Really?  I would have sworn--  But no matter."

Terris resisted the urge--just barely--to stick out her tongue.  What was it about her sister that made her feel like she was five years old again?

"At any rate, the rumor is that being a Grey Warden makes it impossible to achieve his…pleasure…in the regular way."

"Which means what, exactly?"  Terris hated that her voice cracked, but she couldn't help the panic starting to bubble in her chest.

"No one knows."  Stella leaned back.  "But you'll find out soon enough, won't you?"

Her stomach roiled as she snapped her eyes back to the window.  Oh, what if Stella was right?  She always seemed to pick up tidbits of knowledge here and there.  Most of it was utter nonsense, but occasionally there was an ounce of truth to be had amongst it.  Terris hugged her arms to her chest and tried to calm herself.  The King was a kind man.  She knew that.  Or did she?  She'd only spent a week with him, after all.  Maybe he'd put on a persona for her, specifically to lull her into accepting his proposal.  Maybe she was the only one at that damned ball not to see through his façade to the monster beneath, and that was why he'd asked her to marry him.  Maker knew it wasn't for love.  They didn't even know each other!

Her breath quickened, and she swallowed once, then again.  The carriage pulled to a halt, and Stella made a noise of happiness.  "Oh, we've arrived.  And here's your husband-to-be.  He's so handsome, Terris."

Good looks meant nothing if they hid a horror.  Terris's hands clutched at the fabric of her skirts, wrinkling it.  The carriage door opened far sooner than she was prepared for, and she spotted a golden male hand grip her sister's delicate one as she alighted from the carriage. 

"Lady Stella, so nice to see you again."

That voice.  His voice.  Oh, Maker, he was right outside.  She was seconds away from seeing his face again.  Her stomach knotted and she swallowed.  She couldn't seem to get enough air.  Excitement and anticipation and fear--oh, by Andraste, an unholy amount of fear--set her stomach to jumping uncontrollably.  What had Stella meant, his tastes as a Grey Warden were rough?  What, by Andraste's ever-burning pyre, was she getting into?

"Lady Terris?"  He sounded concerned, worried, even.  "She did accompany you, didn't she, Lady Stella?"

"Yes, your Majesty.  Sister," Stella called, "you're keeping the King waiting."

His golden hand appeared through the doorway.  Terris watched as her own hand placed itself in his palm, as though she hovered over her shoulder.  She ducked through the carriage door and looked up to see his angular, smiling face looking at her with complete satisfaction.

She sucked in a breath--and promptly threw up all over Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden.

###

"Marcus, am I that frightening?"

A loud laugh burst from his Chancellor, followed by snorting chuckles.  Alistair waited patiently, drumming his hands on the arm of his chair, for his best friend to get himself under control.

Marcus Amell swallowed the last of his laughter.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  Was that a serious question?"

"I can have you replaced, you know."

"Yes, there are plenty former Grey Warden mages with excellent leadership skills running about the Ferelden countryside just waiting for your call."  Marcus lifted the mug to his lips, and Alistair didn't miss the scornful look he gave the thing.  It held tea, not ale, and his friend's displeasure at that fact was clear.  Too much time with the dwarf, he realized.

"There could be."  He rolled his eyes at the petulant tone to his voice, then rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "I'm serious, Marcus.  Did you see her face?  She looked at me like I was a genlock, leering at her."

"It was a long trip, yes?"  Marcus shrugged.  "Perhaps she suffers from motion sickness.  Maker knows I can't stand to ride in those closed-in carriages."

"You can't stand to ride."

"Well, there's that.  Why did the Maker give us legs, eh, if he intended us to ride on horses or some such nonsense?"

"So the carriage ride made her ill, but she kindly waited until she arrived in order to…share it with me?"  Alistair braced his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand.  "No.  You should have seen her eyes.  She was terrified."

Marcus sighed.  "You're the King, Alistair.  You are going to generate that reaction in some people, regardless of if you scowl or look pretty."

"But my future w-wife?"  He pinched his nose.  He really had to work on saying that word without stammering.

"Maybe she was concerned about your wedding night."  The mage waggled his dark brows.

"Maker's breath."  An odd combination of fear, desire, longing, and shyness rose within him.  He shifted as his body acted in a decidedly expected manner.  "Please.  I don't need to be reminded about that every five minutes."

"Is that how often we've talked about it?  Or just how often you've thought about it."

"Marcus…I will holy smite your ass, just you watch me."

The Chancellor guffawed at Alistair's growled threat.  "Just be yourself, Alistair.  It's worked pretty well for you so far, despite your disadvantages."

"Remind me why I keep you around?"

"Because I distract the ladies?"  Marcus's eyes twinkled and he shook his head.  "Come on, then, your Majesty, I believe it's time to meet your betrothed for dinner."

Alistair groaned and stared at the table top, wondering if there was any way he could avoid the awkwardness of seeing Terris again.  Not that he really wanted not to see her, just--Maker, it was just so bloody difficult.  He didn't know what to say around her, or how to act.  They hadn't really gotten to know each other very well following the Auditions Ball (Marcus's name for it, not his), but he thought they'd at least gotten part of this awkward stage behind them.

Apparently not.

They walked down the hall to the sitting room near the royal dining room, and Alistair couldn't help pulling at his tunic.  He'd gotten more used to wearing regular clothes on a daily basis, but armor still felt more normal.

"Maker's mercy, man.  You're fidgeting like a woman," Marcus hissed.

"I am not."  Alistair huffed out a breath and forced his hands back to his side.  "All right, maybe I am.  I hate this Marcus. Hate it."

His Chancellor paused and gripped his shoulder.  His eyes held sympathy, for a change, instead of good-natured humor.  "It would almost be easier to be back on the road, fighting, wouldn't it?"

"Or back at the Chantry," the King admitted under his breath.

Marcus snorted.  "Surely it's not that bad."

A grin tugged Alistair's mouth upward.  "All right, maybe not that bad."  He squared his shoulders, trying not to adopt the same mentality he'd had when facing the toughest battles of the Blight.  His future wife--minor victory, no stammering--was not something to be conquered or endured.  She was a treasure to discover.  He hoped.  Oh, Maker, he hoped that was the case.

But it wouldn't be the first time the Maker had laughed at his expense.

Modifié par Freckles04, 31 mars 2010 - 03:06 .

[Miliat]

This totally makes up for chapter 4 of Opaque Mirror

[MireliA]

Great start to the sequel

[Miri1984]

Hooray. Love these characters. I was hoping you'd give us some more of this.

[Sisimka]

Wonderful!!

[Miliat]

Also, I really don't like Stella. lol

[Freckles04]

Miliat wrote...

Also, I really don't like Stella. lol

But she's trying to be so HELPFUL... 

[Jules8445]

Stella is kind of a jealous cow, isn't she? lol, I know how siblings can be though. I love getting a taste of what Alistair would have been like after a huge bromance instead of a romance.

And you're right...I needed this after the fourth chapter of Opaque Mirror.

[Freckles04]

Jules8445 wrote...

Stella is kind of a jealous cow, isn't she? lol, I know how siblings can be though. I love getting a taste of what Alistair would have been like after a huge bromance instead of a romance.
And you're right...I needed this after the fourth chapter of Opaque Mirror.

I LOVE love love the conversations between Alistair and Marcus. You know they love each other like brothers. And yes, I know that's weird for me to say, since I'm the author, but...it's true.

[TanithAeyrs]

Glad to see a sequel to "Auditions". It's nice to have some light hearted FF to enjoy once in a while.

[Freckles04]

Chapter 2

Dinner was a disaster.  All right, maybe not a throw-up-on-your-future-husband-who-is-King level of disaster, but still…not pleasant.

To begin with, Stella wouldn't stop flirting.  She started off with batting her eyes at the dark-haired mage who smiled back politely enough.  But then she started with the innuendo…Maker, had she no sense of the company she was in?  These weren't some simple soldiers at a backwater freehold in the Bannorn to appreciate such crude manners.  It was the King and the Chancellor, and the Arl of Redcliffe.  Luckily the mage, Ser Amell, didn't take offence, though the King's ears turned a bit pink.  Which made Terris think about the rumor of him being an innocent.  Which in turn led to her thinking about his tastes.  And she promptly spilled her wine all over her dress and onto the floor.

If she'd stripped naked and started dancing on the table, she couldn't have been more embarrassed.  Oh, what he must think of her!  She endured Stella's silent giggles, the King's awkward assurances that the carpet had its share of stains, one more wouldn't make a difference, and the amusement that glittered in the mage's eyes.  She dared not meet Arl Eamon's gaze, sure she'd see nothing but disapproval there.

Once a pair of servants had cleaned up the wine as best they could, they retired to the sitting room in which they'd started the evening.  And Stella started flirting with the King.

"Tell me, your Majesty."  Terris recognized that tone of voice, and that look--she'd seen it often enough since her sister had realized woman parts had a purpose to them.  She shook her head at Stella, and she knew she saw it when one brow arched, but it didn't deter her bold sister from her chosen course.  "Is it true what they say about Grey Wardens?"

The King took a sip from his goblet.  "And what do they say?"

"That a Grey Warden's stamina is legendary."

Oh, holy Maker.  Did she just--  No, her sister would not humiliate her like that.  Wait…

Yes, she would.

The mage coughed, masking something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.  His Majesty gave him an odd look, then turned back to Stella.  "Well, I suppose."  He frowned.  "To be honest, I haven't spent a lot of time comparing my abilities from before I became a Grey Warden to now."

Stella raised her goblet to her lips and took a delicate sip.  "Oh, no?"

"No.  I was certainly not the most skilled at the Chantry, but I was no slouch, either."  He shrugged.  "I suppose my stamina has increased somewhat, though.  I can certainly swing my sword for much longer than your average soldier.  Wouldn't you say, Marcus?"

The Chancellor's lips were pressed very tightly together, and he looked far more serious than the question warranted.  "If you say so, your Majesty."

Terris glanced from the King, to the Chancellor, to the Arl, and back to her sister.  Unless his Majesty was remarkably adept at playing dumb, he truly had completely missed her sister's insinuation.  Everyone else in the room had picked up on it.  Terris wasn't sure if she should be reassured or frightened that her future husband seemed so naïve.

"Well."  Stella smiled at her wine.  "That's good to know."

The King's brows dipped.  "Indeed."

Ser Amell cleared his throat.  "Lady Stella, might I interest you in a tour of the gardens?"

She waved a hand at the mage's invitation.  "Oh, no, ser.  That's my sister's interest, not mine."

"Oh."  The King placed his goblet of wine on the table at his elbow.  "Then, Lady Terris, would you care to accompany me on a walk in the gardens?"

And escape Stella?  Absolutely.  Except...  "You will be fine without me, sister?"  She used her best stern voice, the one she remembered Mother using to get Stella to do as she was told.

"Perfectly fine," Stella answered, her eyes on the mage.

By Andraste...  Terris bent down under the pretense of giving her sister a peck on the cheek.  "If you must, please be discreet," she hissed in her ear.

"Dear sister, you wound me," Stella returned without moving her lips.

Terris groaned under her breath and straightened to find the King disconcertingly close.  She shoved her nerves away and forced a smile on her face as she took his arm.  He said nothing as he led her to a set of terrace doors leading to the lovely gardens that surrounded the palace.  Her lips curved as she remembered the last time she'd ventured here; she'd been chasing a surprisingly large firefly when she'd slipped into the deep mud at the pond's shore, and shortly thereafter was tackled by a young nobleman who'd assumed she was a monster of some sort.  A young nobleman who had, in fact, turned out to be the King.

"Good memories?"

She smiled at him, forgetting her fears for a moment.  "Yes.  We certainly met in a unique manner, didn't we?"

"Oh, yes.  Something to tell our grandchildren."  His steps faltered as he realized what he'd said.  "Uh..."

She let him lead her around the well-maintained grounds, dividing her time between looking at the plants, the sunset spreading over the western sky like an artist had just swept his brush across it, and the path in front of her.  Not at him.

"Are you enjoying Denerim so far?"

She blinked.  "I suppose, your Majesty. I've only been here a few hours."

"Right.  Of course."  He nodded, his lips tense.

"But I've always thought it a nice city," she rushed on.  "Not that I...have a lot to compare it to, your Majesty."

"You don't have to do that, you know."  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  "Use my title when we're alone, I mean.  Marcus calls me Alistair all the time.  Amongst other names I'd prefer you not use."

"A-Alistair?"  How odd that the name felt so right on her tongue.

"There.  That wasn't so hard, was it?"  He stopped suddenly and faced her.  "Have you ever been outside of Ferelden?" 

"No," she admitted.  "Why?  Have you?"

He smiled.  "No, I haven't, though I'd like to, someday.  Did we actually just find some common ground?"

Her lips quirked.  "I think we may have.  Let's see...shall we refresh our memory of each other?"

"I'm not sure..."  His eyes widened.

Terris frowned.  "You don't want to share each other's favorite colors and all that, kind of like a refresher?"

"Oh, right.  That."  He chuckled, sounding nervous.  "Sure."

"All right.  May I go first?"

"Of course."

"Favorite food."

"Simple.  Frozen cream, sweetened and with a hint of vanilla."

She nodded her head, a smile stretching across her lips.  "Excellent memory, your--Alistair.  And your favorite food…cheese.  I don't recall a single meal without some kind of cheese."

"One point for Lady Terris."

"Oh, we're counting points, are we?"  She shot him a mischievous look, some of her earlier nervousness dissipating.  "I'm rather competitive, you know.  Are you sure you want to start this?"

"I never enter a battle I can't win."  His grin faltered slightly.  "Uh, forget I said that."

Terris's brows twitched, wondering what he meant, but she let it go.  "And…Alistair…if I'm going to call you that when we're alone, you must call me Terris."

"All right."  His eyes twinkled in the dimming light.  "My turn.  Favorite color."

She closed one eye, remembering.  "Blue.  Deep blue."

"And another point. Congratulations, my lady."  He pulled her over to a stone bench and they sat down.  "Your favorite…is lavender, if I recall."

"We're tied, then, I see."  Terris smiled, enjoying herself more than she'd expected to.  "Tell me, what does the winner receive?"

"I think that should be up to the winner," the King--Alistair--said.

Something in the way he said it made her stomach flutter.  Don't think about tastes, Terris.  "Uh…favorite childhood story?"

"Tough one."  He took her hands in his, tentatively.  The calloused palms and fingers felt so strange against her skin, though she did appreciate the shivers that cascaded through her as his thumbs stroked hers.  "But I do recall that you enjoyed the Adventures of the Black Fox tales."

"Maker," she sputtered.  "Did I tell you that?"

"Indeed you did.  And my favorite childhood story, my lady?  Do you recall?"

"I--"  She couldn't think with his thumbs circling on her skin like that.  It muddled her brain.  "My apologies.  I don't remember."

"Then I suppose I am the winner."  His eyes seemed warmer, somehow.  Heated, almost.

"I s-suppose you are."  Terris swallowed.  "And what do you desire for your prize?"

"A kiss?"  He looked as startled as she felt at those words pouring from his lips.  "I mean, if you've no objections, that is, I would like--love--"  He groaned and his head drooped.  "I would just really like to kiss you."

Terris took a deep breath, feeling light and heavy and hot and cold all at once.  A funny feeling stirred in her abdomen…and lower.  "I think I…would like that."

"Good."  He smiled widely.  "Good.  Then, uh…may I?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.  He angled his lips over hers, and they were so warm and firm, much like his touch on her hands.  She sighed against him, melting and drifting forward.  His arms caught her, inexpertly, but somehow it was all right.  His lips were still on hers, and that's what mattered.  And then those firm lips parted, and his tongue touched her, and--Maker, how could a single, simple kiss be so electric?  He groaned as she mimicked his movement, and suddenly their kiss was no longer so simple, or so chaste.  Heat blasted through Terris, wild and urgent.  His hands moved from hers, to her shoulders, then drifted downward, cupping her breasts--

She pulled back with a gasp and slapped him, hard, on his cheek.  He stared at her, utter shock sweeping across his face, and she covered her mouth with both hands.  "Oh holy Maker," she breathed.  "I'm sorry.  I--  It's habit."

"Do you have a lot of men grabbing at your breasts, then?"  Alistair frowned, and rubbed a hand over his jaw.  "You've got some strength in those arms, haven't you?  Ow."

"I'm so sorry."  It was all she could say and it didn't seem like nearly enough.  Stupid, stupid Terris.  Tears in her eyes, she rose, determined to get away.

The King caught her wrist in one of his magnificently rough hands.  "It's all right, Terris.  I deserved that.  Too fast, far too fast. I--"  With his other hand, he scrubbed his face and hair, making the ruff at his forehead even more jagged.

"Are you truly a virgin?"  Oh, sweet Andraste.  Just open up a chasm beneath her and be done with this torture.

"Am I--"  The light from the setting sun was just enough to see the path by, but Alistair's blush was clearly visible.  "When you have a question, you don't hold back, do you?  Maker's breath.  Where did you hear that?"

"From--from my sister."

"I suppose it's useless to ask where she heard it."  He stared at the ground.  "Well, it's, uh, no secret I was raised by the Chantry.  They don't actually encourage that kind of activity."

"You don't say." 

He shot her a quick, rather embarrassed grin.  "It's true.  They raised me to be a gentlemen, to not take that--that kind of thing lightly.  So, no, I have never been with--"

"Neither have I."

"You've never been with a woman?"  His eyes widened.  "Did that just come out of my mouth?"

Terris snorted at the look of horror on his face.  "Yes, your Majesty, you just asked me if I had ever been with a woman.  For the record," she said, "no.  Nor a man."

"Oh.  I, uh…that's good, right?  That we're both…that we haven't…"

Terris gave in to impulse and pressed her lips to his again.  This time, the kiss was a little more controlled, if no less heated.  "I think I should probably be heading to my rooms," she breathed as she pulled away.

The King--Alistair--looked down at her, and, yes, that was definitely heat in his eyes.  Enough to warm the castle, she suspected.  "Terris, I--"  He swallowed, then looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again, a little shyly.  "I'm glad I found you."

Her breath hitched, but she forced it back into a steady rhythm.  "So what is your favorite childhood story?" she asked as she turned to walk up the path.

She glanced to her side at the gentle laugh, and saw a small, sad smile on his lips.  "I have none," he said with a shrug.  "I didn't learn to read until after I was sent to the Chantry, and before that, I had no one to read me stories."

The nonchalant tone of his voice as he told her, like it no longer bothered him, tugged at Terris's heart.  It was the first time she'd ever heard him speak without an ounce of emotion in his voice, and that told her more than a flare of temper ever could.  Suddenly, the rumors that Terris had been worrying about seemed so absolutely idiotic.  Drink darkspawn blood?  Have horrid sexual tastes?  Not this man.

Silently, she intertwined her fingers with his as they walked back to the palace.

[Sandtigress]

Awww, what a sweet chapter, and SO full of that Alistair awkward that I love!!! Yay!

[Sisimka]

Indeed it is, Sandy. How does Freckles capture him so well! (I'm glad she does.) Wonderful installment.

[Miliat]

Poor dear, I'm thankful she didn't get sick again.

[Freckles04]

Me too, Milia, 'cause I think even Alistair would be having second thoughts at that point...

[Miri1984]

Oh, that was so lovely. I think I'm falling in love again.

[Jules8445]

*sighs happily* This is my favorite bedtime story.

[Treason1]

I absolutely loved this, Freckles. The awkwardness between the two of them is priceless and endearing.

[MireliA]

I loved this . They are so cute together!

[Freckles04]

Thanks, everyone! I'm glad you're enjoying this.

[Freckles04]

A/N: In my defence, I held off the darkness for two whole chapters! I think that's a record for me...

---

Chapter 3

Alistair tried to keep his attention focused on the minstrels playing a lovely tune on the stage in front of him.  It was really quite pleasant, the light, airy notes a perfect accompaniment to the summer day blooming around them.  But his eyes kept drifting over to the entry to the stands of the amphitheatre, looking for a particular brunette with sparkling sapphire eyes.  Terris should have been here by now.  Her father had been due to arrive an hour ago, from the latest missive they'd received.  He'd left a few hours after Terris's carriage and had been due to arrive much earlier this morning, but had broken a wheel on the road and had been forced to spend the night at a farmhold in the Bannorn.  His fiancé had taken the news quite well, considering it must have been worrisome.

His lips wanted to curve just thinking about her.  Just remembering the heat of the kiss they'd shared the night before.  Did that make him a fool?  Well, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?  Maybe he was a fool, with this odd fluttering in his chest when he thought of her.  Maker's breath, he barely knew the woman.  He found her fascinating, yes, and he hoped she felt somewhat the same, but he wasn't as naive as Marcus and Eamon often thought he was.  He knew this marriage had nothing to do with love and everything to do with securing the Theirin line.  If it was even possible.

Alistair forced his eyes back to the musicians.  No point in dwelling on that bit.  He'd have to broach it soon enough, he supposed--but not today.

The crowd applauded politely as the band finished their piece and bowed.  Movement at the edge of the stands caught Alistair's eye and he couldn't help the wide smile that stretched his lips.  He knew he must look like a besotted fool, but he was powerless to stop himself.

He rose to greet Terris as she and Stella accompanied an older man through the stands to the royal entourage.  Alistair recognized him from the Auditions Ball, but even if he didn't, it would be easy to figure out who he was from the resemblance between him and his daughters.  His dark hair was receding a little, and tinted with silver, but his face was still strong, giving Alistair the sense that Terris's father was formidable in his own right.

"Bann Gerald," Alistair greeted him warmly.  "Nice to see you again."  He held out a hand.

The Bann looked at it for a moment, nonplussed, then grasped the King's wrist.  "Your Majesty. Girls, you may sit down."

Terris and Stella both sat immediately.  Alistair's brow twitched at his fiancé's abnormally subdued nature, but he didn't call attention to it.  "Bann Gerald, this is Marcus Amell, my Chancellor.  I believe you met briefly at--"

"The mage, yes."  The Bann's eyes darkened.  "I recall."

Alistair's lips pressed together.  So, no love for mages.  He caught Marcus's eye, and his friend just shrugged good-naturedly.  The King returned to his seat and Marcus and the Bann followed suit.  Terris sat between him and her father, her hands folded demurely on her lap, her eyes straight ahead.  She didn't even glance at him.  Odd.

"I have heard these next performers are quite talented," Alistair said.  "Normally the Empress is loathe to let them out of her court, I'm told, but Arl Bramley somehow lured them away."

The Bann sniffed derisively.  "Orlesians."

"The Orlesians are well known for their artistic talents, Father."  Terris's voice, like her attitude, was uncharacteristically restrained.  Concern rose in Alistair's chest.  Was she having second thoughts about the wedding tomorrow?  Was she not feeling well?  Unthinking, he reached for her hand, only to have her gently move it out of reach.  He frowned.

"That's what you get for having your nose constantly stuffed in a book, girl," Bann Gerald scoffed.  "You haven't a lick of sense when it comes to reality, do you?  The Orlesians are pigs, plain and simple.  No matter how pretty it's dressed or how lovely its singing voice, it's still a pig."

Alistair stiffened, his entire countenance growing still.  Regardless of the Bann's opinion on Orlesians--an opinion Alistair himself did not share--he had no cause to speak to Terris so sharply.  His fiancé gave the slightest shake of her head.  With an effort, the King reined in his initial reaction to leap boldly to her defense.  Instead, he reached over and grabbed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.  Her palm was unresponsive in his for a moment, then she melted, just a little, and he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

The Orlesian players were entertaining, to be sure, but Alistair found himself utterly distracted by the delicate hand clasped in his.  She felt so tiny.  His fingers drifted over her skin, exploring, almost of their own volition, as he struggled to keep his eyes on the stage.  Her arm, pressed against his, trembled.  His own breathing was a little rough, too.  He worried that his sword-worn hands would be too harsh on her smooth skin, but she didn't pull away.  Instead, her hand flipped in his and returned the favor, whispering over his skin with the barest of touches.  He suddenly wondered what it would be like to have that sensation all over his body

He shifted, uncomfortable at the sensation of his britches growing tighter, and recaptured her hand in his, holding it tightly and preventing more lovely explorations. 

"Maker's breath, girl, people are staring."

Alistair's brows twitched at Bann Gerald's hissed admonition and his eyes travelled over the nobles surrounding them.  One or two glanced back at him, their eyes warm, but he couldn't see any reactions that would be worth the Bann's biting words.  Terris started to tug her hand away from his and he grasped her fingers more firmly.

"I believe the King is entitled to hold the hand of his future wife," he chided gently.

Gerald's lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded Alistair's purposely bland expression.  "Yes, your Majesty," he said after a moment.

Alistair leaned down and whispered in Terris's ear, "Perhaps we can continue that on a larger scale, later?"  He felt his ears burning as soon as the words left his mouth, but he didn't regret them.

"Tomorrow, your Majesty."  Terris's voice was barely a breath, filled with bemusement.

With an effort, Alistair turned his attention back to the stage.  But he couldn't erase the grin stretched across his lips.

###

Marcus felt his lips twitching--again--as he caught Alistair's fidgeting out of the corner of his eye.  Maker, he had it bad.  The poor sot was head over heels, even if he hadn't quite figured it out himself, yet.  A tendril of satisfaction uncurled within the mage at his closely guarded secret.  For once, it was a secret of a good nature, instead of being all dire and dark and horrible-consequences-if-revealed.  He still hadn't decided if he'd ever tell Alistair that he'd set up the "chance" meeting between the King and Terris.  Maybe on their anniversary.  Or when their first child was born.

His insides gushed a little at the thought of a little copy of his friend.  Merciful Maker, what had happened to the fierce Hero of Ferelden, to be turned to mush at the thought of a baby?  A twinge of horror crept up his spine.  He needed to kill something.  It had been far too long, that was the problem.  He needed to get out of the city, find some darkspawn, and unleash his wrath upon them.

Or maybe unleashing wrath of a different kind was in order.  He glanced behind Alistair, Terris, and the Bann to eye Stella's profile.  She'd made her interest plain the night before, and he'd been very tempted, but somehow the thought of bedding his best friend's future wife's sister was enough to dull his libido.  Today, though--well, everything looked different in daylight.  And Stella was no exception.  She seemed a little more innocent today.  Not that it was a prerequisite for him--dear Maker, he'd prefer experienced over inexperienced any day.  Apparently they shared the same itch, so perhaps he'd take her up on her offer to scratch it.

As if she sensed his eyes on her, she glanced in his direction, then quickly swung her gaze back to the stage.  Marcus frowned.  He'd expected a wink or some other suggestive gesture, not for her to flee his interest like frightened maiden. 

His lips twisted as he turned his attention back to the musicians.  Perhaps the darkspawn were his only hope, after all.

He rose with the rest of the audience as the concert ended and applauded.  He enjoyed music well enough, and he appreciated the effort the Arl of Denerim had expended to bring the troubadours to Ferelden, but if he had to sit any longer on these Maker-forsaken wooden chairs…

Just another sign he was getting soft.  Too used to luxury.  How quickly the body forgot what it was like to camp in the ass-end of Ferelden, in the rain, the wet, the cold, and the heat, with no comforts but a mostly flat rock on which to rest your behind.  Ah, good times.

"Wonderful concert, your Majesty."  The tone of the Bann's voice made it clear he meant the exact opposite of what he'd just uttered.  Marcus decided he didn't like Terris's father at all.  "Come, girls.  Back to the palace."

Alistair draped an arm over Terris's shoulder, somewhat possessively, Marcus noted with a slight grin.  "It's early yet, Bann Gerald.  I'd thought that perhaps Terris could accompany me on a stroll through the Market."

"No."  The Bann narrowed his eyes at the King.  Daring bugger, Marcus thought with a reluctant spurt of respect.  "Upon the morrow, she is yours, your Majesty, but until then she will do her duty by her father.  Terris."

The dark-haired lass bowed her head.  "Yes, Father."

Marcus's hand whipped out to grab Alistair's arm as the King made to follow as Terris meekly stepped away.  "No point in alienating your father-in-law just yet," he murmured in his ear.

"Something isn't right, Marcus," Alistair growled.

The mage watched the future Queen, her sister and her father leave, a solemn procession, and he had to agree with his friend's assessment.  "Short of bludgeoning him over the head, what do you think you could do?"

Alistair's hands clenched as his eyes followed Terris.  "I don't know.  Something.  Bloody Maker, he was just this shy of disrespectful, wasn't he?"

"To you.  Fairly openly disrespectful to everyone else."

"True.  The perks of being the King, hey?"  Alistair inhaled deeply, and Marcus could see him forcing the tension from his shoulders.

"Want to kill some darkspawn?" Marcus suggested with a grin.

The King laughed, a short, surprised bark.  "I wish.  Oh, and I going to be struck by lightning for saying that, aren't I?"

Marcus clapped his friend on the back and they started making their way to the amphitheatre's exit.  "Too bad we can't make them appear on command.  What wonderful stress relief it would be."

"We're sick, you know that?  Actually wanting to see darkspawn."

"Alas, there are never any around when you really want them."  He shot the King a crooked grin.  "Want to pretend to kill each other instead?"

Alistair's eyes sought out Terris's retreating ebony head once more before turning back to Marcus.  "You're on.  Just…no marks on the face.  I think Eamon would murder me.  Or look at me with that terribly disappointed expression."  He frowned.  "I hate that look."

The mage chuckled.  "Don't worry, I'll make sure your pretty face stays intact.  Can't have your bride-to-be fainting at the sight of you."

The grin dropped from the King's face.  "Holy Maker, Marcus, I'm getting married tomorrow."

Marcus gripped Alistair's elbow as the other man's knees seemed to weaken for an instant.  A wide grin split the mage's face.  "Another good reason to have a sparring match.  It'll take your mind off of that pesky fact.  Come on now, your Majesty.  Time to get your ass kicked."

###

Terris was finally able to escape her father's quarters an hour later, after he retired for an afternoon rest.  He'd insisted on knowing every detail of her time in Denerim without him:  where she'd gone, who she had been with…if the King had taken any liberties.

Her stomach twisted at the last.  It wasn't so much that he'd asked it--any caring father would have, given his absence and the relatively unknown element that was the King--but it was how he'd asked it.  Maker, she should be used to it by now.  The biting accusations, the--

Her cheeks heated and she dashed away a hot tear.  Stupid.  There was no point in dwelling on it, was there?

She strode down the corridor with the vague notion of relaxing against a tree, maybe cloud-gazing for a few stolen moments, when she heard the unmistakable sounds of battle.  Shouts, weapons clashing…in an instant, she was transported back to the days of the civil war, when fighting had reached the streets of River's Ford.  Then she heard a bark of laughter.  She blinked, realizing the sounds she was hearing must be the King and Chancellor enjoying a round of sparring.

Terris bit her lip, torn for just a moment, before deciding to seek out the entertainment.  She'd never seen the King fight before; she'd heard tales, of course--everyone had--but she found herself filled with an eagerness to see him in a battle stance, his sword and shield at the ready.  She stepped carefully down the stairs to the courtyard and stopped at the edge, well away from the two men shouting good-naturedly at each other.

The King was recognizable enough, in his gleaming silverite armor, but his opponent was…odd.  He wore armor as well, but he glowed, literally glowed, with a power Terris had never seen before.  Whatever it was, it made him incredibly difficult to hit.  He laughed as the King missed--again--and struck out with his own blow against his Majesty's shield.

"You can move faster than that, Alistair!" he taunted.

Terris found herself smiling, just a little.  It was Marcus.  Maker's breath.  She didn't even know mages could wear armor, let alone wield a sword like he was doing.

"I don't want to risk you not being able to service your lady friend this evening."  The King's eyes glittered over his shield.

Marcus laughed and darted forward to strike again.  "You don't have to worry--oof!"

The King's shield caught Marcus in the chest, once, twice.  A third time sent the mage tumbling to the ground, and his glimmering magical shield dropped as Alistair approached, his sword pointed at Marcus's throat.

"Uncle.  I call Uncle."  The mage chuckled, shaking his head.

An answering grin lit up the King's face.  He sheathed his weapon and latched his shield on his back, then reached a hand down to help his friend regain his feet.  He pulled him into a quick embrace as Marcus stood, and Terris's heart did a little dance.  This was the real Alistair:  smiling warrior, comfortable on the battleground, with his best friend at his side.  Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding, and she turned to leave.

"Wait, Terris!"  Heavy steps jogged across the dirt and grass and she turned back to watch the King approach, his eyes bright, his countenance free.  It was really a remarkable sight, and she understood clearly why the sparring was such an integral part of his routine.  It connected him to who he had been.

"I didn't think I'd see you again today," he said.  Warmth flared in his eyes, just a touch.  Enough to make her heart's dance pick up its tempo.

"Good afternoon, your Majesty," she said, dropping into a slight curtsey.  It wasn't as deep as it should have been, but she doubted he'd notice.

"Oh, stop.  It's just us three, and you'll see I treat Marcus more like family than a Chancellor."

"I'm the handsome brother," Marcus interjected as he joined them.

"So he likes to think."  Alistair gave him a shove on the upper arm and smiled down at her again.  "Would you care to join me for tea?  Or a snack?  Maker, I could use a snack."

"I'll go warn the kitchen."  Marcus left them, grinning at some joke shared between the two former Grey Wardens.

Terris didn't understand, but she felt her lips curving as well.  She couldn't help it; the humor that darted between the two men was infectious.  "I think I'd like that, your--Alistair."

"Excellent.  Uh, just to warn you, I have a bit of an appetite."

Terris's smile dropped as she remembered Stella's talk of tastes.

The King didn't miss the change in her expression.  "It's…a Grey Warden thing.  We eat a lot."

"An appetite for food," Terris clarified.

"Exactly.  Our snacks are generally the size of a dinner.  Or two.  I'd thought I'd better let you know in advance, lest you think I'd invited the entire castle to dine with us." 

He pressed his hand gently to her back, nudging her forward.  The motion caught her off guard, and she hissed.  Damn it.  Maybe it had been too soft for him to hear--

He froze, his hand lifting from her back.  "What?  Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine."  She raised a hand to wave away his concern and began walking.

Alistair caught up to her in a pair of long strides and pulled her to a stop.  "One does not generally wince if everything is all right.  Did you hurt your back?  Shall I call for a healer?"

"I'm fine, your Majesty."  She moved away again, and this time his hand fell to her shoulder.  She couldn't help the whimper-cry that left her lips.

"Terris, tell me right now what's wrong."  Worry, dreadful worry, dulled Alistair's eyes.  A hint of fear.  And a spark of anger. 

It was the fear that undid her.  No one had ever feared for her before.  Wordlessly, she unhooked the top two buttons of her dress and pulled the fabric aside.  "It's nothing," she insisted as he grew terribly quiet.

Suddenly, he turned and marched across the courtyard, his steps radiating power.  Oh, Maker, no.  Damn it, why had she shown him?  It would have waited until tomorrow night, when Father and Stella were on their way home.  Now…blast it, Stella would get the brunt of the repercussions of this. 

She jogged after the King.  "Your Majesty…Alistair….please."

He said nothing.  They stormed through the doors, into a corridor, and the King bellowed for his Chancellor.  She'd never heard him like this, so absolutely full of fury.

Unthinking, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt.  "Please, don't!"

He turned on her, his eyes alight with rage.  "You would defend him?  After--after that?"

"He'll take it out on Stella," Terris whispered.  "It's…worse for her.  Please.  Please don't."

She knew she was begging, and she couldn't help it.  She had to make him understand.  Some of the light faded from his gaze, and he cupped her cheek.  She closed her eyes, nuzzling into the roughness of his palm.

"I will fix this," he promised, his voice thick.

Eyes still closed, she nodded, even though she knew there was no way to do so.

[Sandtigress]

Somebody's going to be in trooooooouuuuuble.....

[Miri1984]

Awww, what a *&^%!



It couldn't be all fluff, could it Freckles . You had to find some way to toy with our emotions.

[Crixt]

Haha, I like what you've done.

[Freckles04]

@Sandi - Just you wait. Angry!Alistair incoming!



@Miri1984 - No, it really couldn't. I tried. I tried very, very hard to keep it fluffy. But I suppose I'm twisted. Also, even though this is a fantasy setting, I want the people to be real. Happy people without a care in the world aren't real. It works for a limited story, like Auditions, but the best I can do here is try to keep as much of the feeling of Auditions incorporated while still building characters you feel you could meet on the street one day. If, you know, you lived in Ferelden.



@ Crixt - Thanks!