There And Back Again Ch 171

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-One: Record Keeping

The market in the afternoon in Highever was busy, and I was overwhelmed by the celebration. There were musicians and story tellers on every corner, and it wasn't uncommon that someone would grab a partner and start to twirl through the streets, laughing and cheering. There was mead and ale for sale from little kiosks, and there were vendors selling meat skewers, pies, and sweets from carts and tables all over the place. People were packed in shoulder-to-shoulder, and there was no way to even stand still without being bumped into by those trying to get somewhere else. I suspected pickpockets would have a banner day, and was briefly glad I carried almost nothing of value that could be stolen.

The celebration in Denerim after the Blight had probably been worse -- more crowded, more crazy -- but we'd been kept apart from the chaos, then. I'd never been so close to something like this, so crowded and surrounded by complete strangers. Our guards did their best to give us a little bit of space, and Alistair's arm locked around me kept me from being jostled excessively, but it was still somewhat intimidating. Everyone seemed to be having so much fun, though, that it was hard to be too upset about it.

The fact that I was back in a dress didn't help any. If I'd been wearing my armour, I'd probably have felt a bit more confident. Instead, I wore a long, conservative burgundy dress with my cloak overtop, and while Alistair assured me that I looked beautiful, surrounded by so many people what I mostly felt was...vulnerable. The dagger sheathed at my waist -- and the second one hidden against my forearm -- only helped a little.

Despite my discomfort, we made it through the afternoon relatively unscathed, and I knew when I was able to look back on it, it would be a memory I cherished. The people of Highever truly loved their Teyrn, and Fergus was toasted and cheered everywhere he went; he took the time to stop and talk to nearly everyone, greeting them by name and remembering the details about their lives and families. We even stopped in the Alienage, being greeted enthusiastically by the Hahren and many of the other elves. I noted that there were armed elves in city guard regalia wandering the Alienage streets and guarding the entrances, and the people we met were all well-dressed and well-fed, none of the half-starved, half-naked children I'd seen in Denerim.

Fergus ignored me the entire time, which was lovely; I got to stick to Alistair and Aedan, and watch Fergus interact with others without having to worry about him even looking my way. It was odd to see him so humble, so unlike the arrogant, cruel nobleman he portrayed around me. It was hard to reconcile his behaviour with the man I knew. It was nice to see Aedan respond to it, though, laughing and joking with his brother, looking more carefree than I'd seen him since I'd come to Thedas. Regardless of my personal relationship with Fergus, I would be grateful to him for that for as long as I lived. With all the responsibilities he'd accrued, Aedan didn't get a lot of time to just have fun.

When we retired to the castle, the celebrations weren't over; Nate and Alfstanna had arrived, along with a handful of other nobles I didn't know, and all of us were expected at the head table for the official banquet. We changed clothes -- again, and I briefly sent thanks to Maeve for packing so many gowns -- and then mingled with the guests and snacked on appetizers until dinner was announced, our guards following us surreptitiously, trying not to draw attention to themselves. I spent most of my time with Alistair, being greeted as the Prince and Princess by everyone assembled, much to both of our dismay, but we couldn't seem to stop the bowing and curtseying. The only ones who acted even slightly more naturally were those we knew reasonably well -- and Nate and Alfstanna both seemed to take delight in our exasperation when even they treated us deferentially. They stopped when Alistair practically growled, but the mischievous smiles didn't dim one bit.

I did find it upsetting how most of the nobles reacted to Nate -- or rather, didn't react. Because most of them seemed to be pretending he didn't exist, refusing to acknowledge his presence unless forced. Nate took it gracefully, sticking to himself and not imposing on anyone, looking unruffled and aloof, but it hurt my heart to see it. So instead of one more useless meeting with someone whose name I'd forget the moment I learned it, I excused myself from the endless stream of nobles trying to ingratiate themselves with my husband, and scurried over to where Nate stood.

"My Lord," I curtseyed, and he bowed in response, still grinning at my discomfort with the formalities. Before long we were chatting and laughing as he regaled me with amusing stories about the stuffiest of the nobles in the hall, telling me about drunken escapades and shameful affairs, until my head swam with gossip, and it couldn't have escaped anyone's notice that we were -- quietly -- laughing at them.

Dinner, when it finally began, was a formal affair; I was stuck again at the head table, but at least there were others present to distract the rest of the people from staring at Alistair and I. I ended up sandwiched between Alistair and some pompous Bann whose name I couldn't remember; he was prodigiously inebriated, and finally had to be carried off when he passed out with a mouthful of potatoes and spilled them all down his front. Nate sat across from me and made cuttingly witty comments that kept me trying not to laugh out loud in a terribly unladylike fashion; Alistair had to cover his mouth several times to keep his guffaws from echoing around the room. It kept the dinner from being the awkward, stilted affair it otherwise likely would have become, and to my surprise, I actually enjoyed myself.

If I'd thought the hall had been full the night before, I was mistaken; there must have been twice as many people stuffed in there for the official banquet, including, I was pleased to see, a small table with a number of elves -- the Hahren of the Alienage and a number of other, well-dressed, unruffled looking elves. By the way those at the nearest table were ignoring them, this was not the first time; no one said a word about them, and the elves looked unfazed by the number of humans conspicuously ignoring them. But at least it showed that Fergus really did care for the elves among his people, not just the humans. Again I wondered at the dichotomy of a man who would treat his people so well -- and his brother so poorly. Because I wasn't really surprised that he'd refused to accept me, but he was being incredibly unkind to Aedan in the process and it made me furious.

Fortunately for me, there hadn't been a ball scheduled after the dinner; I hadn't relished the idea of having to dance, especially as knowing my luck, I'd have been stuck dancing with Fergus. Instead, once everyone was finished eating, the guests spent the rest of the evening socializing.

I got to speak to the Hahren, and bowed to him politely. I'd heard his name earlier, but with my head spinning with the names of dozens of people I'd met in the last two days, I honestly wasn't sure I remembered it -- something I'd feel ashamed of for a long time, I was sure.

"Hahren." I curtseyed politely, knowing it was probably not appropriate but refusing to be less respectful to him than I was to the masses of nobles I'd been introduced to already. I was saved when Alistair also bowed -- not deeply but noticeably -- before being dragged away somewhere by Aedan. I squeezed his hand as he went, and he squeezed back before disappearing into the crowd.

The Hahren bowed back, anxiously, stuttering a little as he rushed to urge me up. "Your Highness! Please, please don't."

At least he doesn't look like he thinks I'm about to hit him.

"It is an honour."

He's already more polite to me than Fergus has ever been.

"The honour is mine, Hahren. How did the Alienage fare this afternoon? I understand there has been a certain amount of...careless revelry, shall we say, in the rest of the city."

"Oh, dear me, no, not in the Alienage. Our guards are cautious and keep a close eye on anyone who appears to have over-indulged."

"I was quite pleased to see you have your own people in the guard."

"Only within the Alienage itself, but it keeps us safe. Highever has always been a safe haven, and the Teyrn -- and his father before him, Maker-bless-him -- have been good to the elves." He eyed me curiously. "As are you, or so I've heard."

I blushed. "Not good, no. I don't consider evaluating people for their skill rather than their ear shape to be particularly progressive. Just practical."

He laughed. "Still. My people appreciate the opportunities you have provided."

"Which reminds me, by the way -- we are always looking for more people -- soldiers, guards, tailors, cleaners, cooks...if you hear of anyone with skills looking for work, from here or anywhere else, send them my way, would you? I can give you my seneschal's name."

He agreed gratefully, and we chatted a little while longer before I was pulled into a long discussion with the elderly wife of one of the local minor nobles. She asked about my 'ladies in waiting' -- I blinked, having no idea what she was talking about -- before recommending her own daughter with glowing praise. I stumbled my way through the conversation, promising I would consider her recommendation if I ever decided to have ladies-in-waiting, which she made sound like servants who happened to have noble parents.

I don't even like having normal servants, never mind having ones with titles.

Bann Alfstanna saved me from further discussion, and we drifted into talk about other subjects. I noted she was wearing a pant suit not terribly dissimilar to the ones I'd ordered in Denerim, which led to a discussion about being female and having a title -- instead of being married to someone with a title. It wasn't unheard of in Ferelden by any means, but that didn't make it common -- most nobles left their estates to their sons. We shared exasperated scowls about that stupidity; it was nice to talk to someone who'd been in my situation, stuck between dresses and armour, trying to be taken seriously by the patriarchy.

I didn't ask her about needing a husband -- something she was absurdly grateful for -- and she admitted that she'd made plans to adopt one of her cousin's daughters as her heir if she never had her own children. The girl was smart and sensible, but came from a poor, landless line of the family which had a title but nothing to show for it. The cousin had practically been raised by Alfstanna's parents, and they were still close as adults. I was impressed by her planning, but somewhat shocked by the fact that not all nobles were rich. I supposed it made sense -- if each family had multiple children, not all of them could inherit estates or land -- but it seemed remarkably short-sighted.

Mind you, that's what I think about making titles and political positions hereditary in the first place. What if a kid isn't well-suited to ruling an Arling, but the old Arl only had the one child? Ludicrous.

Many of the people left early -- I didn't even see the elves sneak out -- but the rest spent the time mingling and chatting. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that several business deals were hammered out at those tables between serious-looking nobles and stuffy businessmen. I couldn't be more grateful that I didn't have to be involved with that sort of thing.

It wasn't long before I found the whole thing tiring. I'd been squeezed, had my hand shaken and kissed, been bowed to and been forced to curtsey in return more times than I could count. My feet were sore in my stupid heeled shoes, my back ached, and my head had started pounding. Other nobles had excused themselves and escaped, but Aedan and Alistair were still going strong, campaigning for support for the Wardens -- and, in Alistair's case, trying to fend off nobility who hoped they could use him to get access to Cailan.

Suddenly completely done with all of it, I caught my husband's eye from across the room -- his smile still made my heart flutter -- and I pointed to the small, side door leading out of the great hall. He nodded, his expression sympathetic, and I slipped out gratefully when I thought no one else was looking. My guard -- Avanna herself, this time -- followed me out a moment later. Once the door shut behind her, I paused in the hallway, leaning back against the wall and taking a deep, calming breath.

I don't know if I'll ever make a good noblewoman, when even relatively small social gatherings send me running for the hills.

Avanna merely waited patiently, though I wondered if she didn't look a little bit relieved to be out of there too.

Despite being sick of all the politicking and fake smiles and incredibly tired, I wasn't actually

sleepy

; I found myself rather wound-up, actually, and wondered briefly whether I'd be able to change into armour and make my way out into the practice yard without being noticed. Deciding that it would probably not be in my best interest, I looked at Avanna and shrugged.

"Care to explore?"

"Lead the way, my Lady." She grinned at me, and I rolled my eyes with a laugh.

The two of us spent the next hour wandering aimlessly around the castle. I avoided the areas that were clearly meant for servants, but the rest of the castle was rather empty at that time of night, and I poked my head into sitting rooms, storage rooms, and a variety of other, unoccupied rooms whose purpose wasn't obvious. We wandered down hallways I'd seen earlier, and some that we'd missed on our tour. None of them were terribly interesting, until I finally stumbled on a small room, lined with bookshelves, that held a couple of comfortable-looking couches, a large desk, and a small lit hearth. Avanna insisted on waiting for me in the hallway once she was certain the room was uninhabited, but I wandered inside, intrigued, as always, by books. I examined the titles, finding a mix of historical and political tomes -- many of which I'd read while Nathaniel helped me learn about Fereldan politics -- as well as a few, more fanciful ones about Fereldan legends and ancient heroes.

I found one that drew my attention -- it was a well-loved, rumpled book about Grey Wardens during the various Blights, and I wondered how many hours Aedan had spent as a teen reading it and daydreaming about becoming a hero.

Bet he'd never have guessed that his dreams would come true -- and how stressful it would be. When I dreamed about being a hero, it was always sunshine and roses.

I picked it up off the shelf, settled onto the couch, and flipped through the worn pages.

I don't know how long I'd been there, half reading and half staring blankly off into space, when I was roused by movement in my peripheral vision. I looked up -- to find Fergus standing in the doorway, arms crossed on his chest, expression unreadable. I swallowed, wondering if I'd found myself somewhere I wasn't supposed to be, and hoping against hope that Aedan or Alistair were standing behind him.

I wasn't that lucky.

"Your Grace," I finally stuttered, trying to come up with something else to say.

"I hope you find my study to your liking, princess?" He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and strode across the room to sit in the big chair behind the desk. He rifled through some papers, evidently ignoring me.

I flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I just saw the books, and..." I sighed. "I didn't know. And I didn't touch your desk. I'll get out of your way -- Alistair is probably looking for me anyway."

He didn't dismiss me, but continued shuffling his papers for another minute. I looked from him to the door, wondering if I should just leave, even knowing that the rules of courtesy would have me wait to be dismissed.

He's never been courteous before...why start now?

I stood, awkwardly, waiting to see if he'd say anything. He didn't look up, so I edged slowly towards the door.

I made it to within three feet of the door when he finally spoke. "After I retook this castle from the soldiers Rendon Howe had left here, I discovered that he had not found all of my father's papers. Father had multiple places he kept important documents -- some of them obvious, like the safe in his room, but some of them better hidden. Often he would bind them into books and leave them tucked unobtrusively on bookshelves, especially here, in his office. It never occurred to Rendon, when he was searching through my family's things, to look at the untitled books scattered across the bookshelves in the castle."

I turned to him, reluctantly, curious about where the story was leading, but somehow knowing it wasn't anywhere I wanted it to go. I took a shaky breath and nodded. "Smart. Or paranoid, but I guess it's not paranoia when they're really out to get you."

He chuffed a surprised laugh. "Quite. So after we cleared the mess and began rebuilding, I discovered that many of the papers I'd assumed were gone were actually just hidden. It took me days to find them all -- his journals, lists of less obvious assets, records of business deals...it was all here. Because of that, I was able to salvage some of the riches Highever had accumulated over the centuries. It allowed us to rebuild and recover without being financially ruined."

I nodded. "That must have been a relief. I know Howe would have raided the treasury and taken everything if he'd been able."

Fergus moved a few more pieces of paper restlessly. "But I also found personal things, like the journals he'd kept since the end of the rebellion. He wrote down his observations as he learned to rule Highever, as he married my mother, as he watched Aedan and I grow up."

I swallowed, tears welling in my eyes unbidden. I wasn't sure why that upset me, but I wasn't going to cry in front of my liege lord. I blinked and swallowed, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

He watched me critically, but finally seemed to accept I wasn't going to respond. "He talked about my sister often, actually. How devastated he and my mother were when they realised something was wrong with her. How they took her to healers, called in mages from the Circle...and he also talked later about thinking about her, about who she would have been as she grew up if she'd been born healthy. How he'd daydream, sometimes, about her running around with skinned knees and torn dresses, learning to sail, maybe taking up archery like my mother.

"Her name wasn't Sierra." His eyes reflected the light from the hearth in the dim room, making it look like fire burned in their depths. He watched me like a lion watched its next meal, waiting to see if I'd run.

I wouldn't. I'd decided never again to run from my husband -- and I sure as hell wasn't going to run from an angry man-child who may, or may not have been my brother. I rubbed my forehead irritably. "I know. It was Elissa." I'd played the game as that character enough times never to forget what her name was. I returned to my spot on the couch and sat down heavily.

Might as well be as comfortable as possible physically, if I'm going to be this uncomfortable emotionally.

"As an infant when I was found, I had no say in what I was named, nor did whoever my parents were. I imagine some well-meaning social worker named me, though the usual practice was to name anyone without a family 'Jane'. Even if I am your sister, they'd have had no way of knowing my name was Elissa."

He didn't reply for a long, silent moment; I just waited, knowing somehow that he wasn't done yet. Finally he looked down, selected a thin book off his desk, opened it to a bookmarked page, and then walked around to hand it to me. He leaned against the front of the desk, arms crossed again, staring down at me with his blank, expressionless face. Looming.