"Eldon?" Rosie gripped onto Myra's shoulder, her eyes darting around in confusion. "Where's Eldon?"
The people were all breaking into a mass of confusion, guards reaching out to re-imprison mercs who thought they could try to escape, the nobles just generally getting in the way, but there was no sign of the bastard who started it all. Where the hell could he be hiding?
Myra tried to peer over the crowds, her breath hitching higher up her chest, when she spotted him. The bastard was nearly at the door, running as fast as he could. "Rosie!" she shouted, but her sister caught him too.
There was no getting through the mass of people, not in time. Rosie yanked up one of the merc's bows, leapt up onto the throne for leverage, and fired a shot right at Eldon.
It struck, hard. Rosie's fingers were still quivering from how tight she drew the bowstring back while the asshole tumbled to his knees from an arrow embedded in his shoulder. Calmly, Rosie picked up the entire fallen quiver and slung it on her back. Eldon was scrabbling to get up and run, when Rosie lifted her nocked arrow and aimed through the middle of the crowd.
Everyone moved out of the way real fast and when she had a clear shot, she fired. "That's for threatening my family," she shouted as the second arrow embedded into the back of Eldon's knee. There was no more running for him now. He crumpled to the floor, his mouth bouncing on the ground while a few chipped teeth cracked free.
The people's princess strolled calmly down the line, her eyes burning at the man scrabbling in his own blood. "Your...your Majesty."
She dug the back of the arrow tight to her cheek, Rosie pausing not even five feet away, "This is for nearly killing my father."
Eldon screamed in pain at a third arrow impaling right through his hand. Blood pooled on the floor, for once his own.
"This," she ruffled the fletching on her arrow before brushing it to her jaw, "is for harassing me at every turn!"
"Fuck!" Eldon cried as the fourth stuck deep into his thigh meat.
"And this..." Rosie screamed, her voice echoing over the hushed audience. "This is for trying to kill the woman I love!" She aimed the point of the arrow right to Eldon's crotch. The man tried to shield himself, but his body was a pincushion, most of the limbs useless now. There was no chance he'd be walking out of here with his manhood intact.
"Rosamund!" a voice called out above hers. She didn't fire the arrow, nor did she release the tension either. Rosie cast an eye over at her father who was standing with the help of Cailan. "I think he's had enough. This isn't the way."
Myra was on Rosie's side. Finish him off with a thousand cuts, make him bleed all over the floor while everyone watched. Sit on his throat and watch his face turn blue. Slowly, Rosie let the bowstring fall slack, the castrating arrow falling to the ground. "You're right, father."
"Wh...what are you going to do to me?!" Eldon shrieked, the man turning into a total coward now that all his plans had failed.
"Me?" Rosie smiled cruelly. "I'm not going to do a thing."
The dead man's eyes whipped around as if he really thought he'd be walking away from this. As if he could scamper back to his little Bann and pretend none of this treason ever happened.
Rosie tented her fingers and all but cackled, "Cailan?"
Their brother looked up in surprise at the summoning. "Yeah?"
"Destroy him," Rosie said as she threw the bow onto the ground. Eldon winced at that, before his eyes focused on the prince coming for him.
"Wh...what's going on?"
Cailan didn't smile, but he didn't snarl either. He packaged all his emotions away to appear cold as a breath of winter. "I'm going to go through every single document your father and his lands have ever kept. Every sovereign you hid from the crown, every dodgy meeting you took with those traitorous to Ferelden. When I am finished, there won't be a copper left to your father, your children, your grandchildren, or any great grandchildren. Assuming you're still capable of such a feat. Now. Let us get started. I will require access to all your books..."
While her brother unleashed the full force of a man with an eye for detail and head for numbers upon the traitor, Myra turned to her father. In the middle of the show, the Hero of Ferelden walked up the aisle. She was wearing a tight smile, clearly struggling to keep upright after burning through who knew how much magic.
"Ali," she nodded to the man about to fall to the ground.
"Lanny," he said with a terse tip of his head before both old friends wrapped their arms around each other and supported one another.
Myra moved to give her dad some room, when she had her own visit by a Rutherford. Leaping around the gawping nobles and nearly plowing into some as he had none of the grace of his mother, Gavin's amber eyes honed in tight not on the King, or the Hero, but her. She froze, uncertain what was going to come. Would he hug her?
"What in the void were you thinking?" Gavin shouted, his voice cracking in anger. "You could have died! You might have died, and...and then what? Huh, Myra?"
"I thought that..." she danced back and forth on her toes, uncertain what to do while the boy yelled at her.
"People here care about you! We don't want to lose you! You're...you're important, damn it!" All the yelling faded to blubbering as Gavin dropped his sword and swept both his hands around Myra. She was in such shock at the change, she didn't think to hug him back. "If you'd died..."
"I couldn't lose my dad," she said, finally giving in to the embrace locking tight around her body.
"Well, I don't want to lose you either," he buried his face into her shoulder, the sobs obvious while he rocked her back and forth in his arms. She'd been so mad, so lost with no claim to anything but a fraudulent life as ephemeral as a bubble. But now. She didn't want to leave. Not ever. But...
"Gavin," Myra whispered beside his ear.
"Yeah?"
"Please don't kiss me right now."
She felt like an ass for saying it the moment his arms stiffened around her, but she had to. If he did that, if he started acting like she was all sugar and spice and his chaste lady, and then he got talked into doing something he didn't want to because she might have died, well... Myra really didn't want to hate herself for that.
"Right," he slid away, wiping at the tears in his eyes. "Of course, I only..."
She put on a smile and grabbed his hand. "Friends?"
"Friends," he nodded, when a body tugged on the tall boy and yanked him back.
"Mom?" Myra gasped as Reiss now hugged her stupid daughter tight.
"Maker's sake, My."
"How many lectures am I going to get now?" Myra muttered, falling into her mother's embrace.
"Oh, I think that young man covered most of it," she sighed against her daughter's forehead. Myra could feel her mother turn to Alistair who slipped a hand behind Reiss' back and joined in the hug. "You did good, kid. You did real good."
Her parents hugged her for a bit more before Lana and Gavin helped Alistair back towards a chair to sit down. No doubt he was going to need more healing, more time. It was close. It was so damn close she could still feel it all slipping away if she closed her eyes.
"I feel sick," Myra muttered, all too well aware of her hand flaring in pain.
"Yeah, that'll happen too."
"Mom?" Myra ran her tongue over her teeth, the thought that'd been festering inside of her ever since she was able to have one, rising up. "How come I didn't die?"
"Myra," Reiss sighed. She cupped her hands around her daughter's face. "You look just like him, you act exactly like him, much to many people's grief. You are his daughter."
"But how?" She was so confused. First he was her dad, then he couldn't have any kids, and now...
"There was a potion and, let's just say you've always been our miracle baby. Okay."
"So there wasn't another...?"
"Maker's blighted sake, Myra. Has there ever been another?"
No. That's what tore her up more than she wanted to admit. Even though her parents could never live together, nor be married,
they were hopelessly devoted to one another. Through the fights, through the bad times, their love never broke. Who could have possibly come between that to create her? There was no one worthy. And now...
"Mom? Does that mean that I'm..." she shifted on her toes, about to feel sick again. "I'm the one with the blood of-of the royal stuff in me?"
Reiss bit her lip and rolled her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. "My, isn't it enough to know you have a father that adores you? Who did everything in his power to keep you from having to suffer as he did? As he does?"
She could take the throne. She may be a bastard half-blood, but she was the only one born of the Calenhad line. The only one remaining of the man who created Ferelden. Her eyes darted over to her sister who stood surrounded by the royal guards while giving them instructions on what to do with Eldon and the rest. Even in the face of such heart rending torture, Rosie had to slap back on her smile and get to work. Myra wanted to curl up in a ball and not move for a few hours.
"Mom," Myra swallowed hard, her fingers running up and down the staff. Her heart swelled with a request she ached to ask for but she feared how her parents would respond.
"Yeah?"
"I want to study magic at the college. I want to learn how to do all those things I should have been able to do. Barriers, ice, healing." Myra stared deep into the same meadowy eyes while she hung on what had been a thousand no's in the past.
Reiss didn't instantly shoot it down. She turned back to the man she nearly lost, that they both could have lost if the Hero of Ferelden hadn't come to a silly birthday party across the country. Nodding her head, Reiss focused on her daughter, "All right. I think you're ready."
"Damn straight I am. Did you see the fireballs I was throwing in the fight?" Myra shouted, her adrenaline pumping back in as she stared around at all she accomplished. "I bet I could show some of those collegie types a thing or two about staff fighting!"
Reiss sighed, "Maker have mercy on your instructors."
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Salvation
She could scarcely believe that breath yet drew into her body, into any of their bodies. By some miracle of the Maker, they survived, they all survived. Rosamund turned from the Commander of the guards to glance back at her father. He plopped down onto a chair and was flanked by nobles all trying to shove medicines and poultices onto him. When one elderly woman attempted to yank open his tunic to rub a brown salve all over his chest he waved his hands in the air like a bee was in play.
"No, no more. You can cover me in your medicinal herbs when I'm dead!" her dad shrieked, tired of being fussed over. But he nearly did die. If not for Myra's sacrifice, which turned out to be less of a sacrifice than Rosie or Cailan expected, they'd all be fatherless. She bundled up her skirts, planning on questioning her father about it, when the Commander of the guards spoke louder.
"Your Majesty..."
Oh dear. Had he been talking to her while she wasn't listening? Putting on a pained smile, she turned to the man. "Please, tell me again."
"What do we do with him?" They already trucked off Eldon's bloody body, Cailan giving a cheerful wave that they'd find every sneaky way he'd managed to finance a mercenary army. The rest of the mercs were either bundled off the pyre or the dungeon. All that remained was the man in the chantry robes left standing in the corner.
Brother Cordell's weary face lifted at the focus, his eyes watering while he stared from Rosamund back to Cailan. The likeness in the two was striking, and a glimpse for Cailan of what his future would hold. But the prince wouldn't turn to look upon their father by blood, he didn't want to. He kept a scowl up while shuffling around their mother who was out of breath and off put but unharmed.
The Queen turned from her ladies and friends of the court who'd been all in a tizzy about helping with her husband nearly dying. Her eyes honed in on Cordell, the man she supposedly took to her bed. Was it out of love or desperation to create heirs?
"Beatrice," Cordell began, dipping down lower in a bow to their mother as the Queen eyed him up. "I swear to the Maker, I didn't mean for this to happen. I had no idea that..."
The Queen's bejeweled palm slapped hard against Cordell's cheek. Its concussive splat echoed through the grand hall, rendering everyone else's speeches moot while all eyes turned towards their queen. She sneered at the man with a red welt rising fast. "You're pathetic," was all she said while grabbing up her skirts and stomping away.
Cordell's pleading eyes tried to follow, but he knew better than to move. For a moment Cailan glanced over, and the man tried to reach out, before the prince sneered as well and turned away. Broken, Cordell's head hung low to his chest. No doubt he was already preparing his sob story for the crown. It'd have to be amazing for him to stand a chance from escaping the noose, and yet...
Shutting her eyes tight, Rosie whispered, "Take him to the dungeon. The crown shall pass sentence later." It was a headache for another day. She had enough on her plate right now. The Commander nodded and with a twitch of his fingers, guards appeared to drag Cordell away. Perhaps she should have watched the man, her supposed father, being pulled away in chains, but her eyes were all on the real dad in her life.
Alistair finished shooing away the helping hands while insisting someone bring him something useful like beer, or cheese. Or both! At the end of his command he turned to his eldest and smiled. "That's one hell of a night."
"The bards hardly know where to begin," she tried to smile, but her father looked worn. Age, which never truly stuck to his boyish grin and sparkling eyes, walloped him hard. His cheeks deflated even more than usual, sunken lips that struggled for breath pulled tight to his teeth.
He worried his hands through his hair before shrugging. "As long as I don't have to listen to any of 'em, or judge which is the best song, I don't care."
"Dad?"
"Hm?" he sat up a bit higher in his chair as Rosie squatted down towards him.
"Not that I'm ungrateful for the outcome, but...how are you alive?" her eyes turned away from the struggling man to her sister. Myra was waving her hands around at her mother while the Hero of Ferelden kept inspecting the shattered staff. They never thought much of how close in resemblance she shared with their father. He was all their dad, until he was none. But now...
"You're smart, Spuddy," her dad's warm fingers gripped onto her arm, "You know how."
So it was true. The one real heir to the Theirin bloodline was...
"Doesn't change a damn thing, 'cept now you all know the truth. Not before half my hair went grey trying to keep the secret in. These past few months have easily taken all my color."
Rosie sighed and turned to her father who'd been sporting ice white hair for nearly the past three years. He was fumbling with it now, trying to slick the coarse hairs into place while simultaneously tugging them up. "Dad, if Myra...?"
"You think Wheaty will be a problem? Okay, yeah, she'll be a problem for me, for her mom, for whoever gets in her way. Whoever thinks of marrying her. Maker take mercy on that poor sod, she will walk all over him. But come on, kid."
Alistair scooted closer on his haunches and tipped his head, "She's too much like me. Always has been. She doesn't want it, never has, never will. And you...you're perfect for that chair." With his hand he waved towards the throne still bearing Rosie's boot print where she hopped onto it to take down Eldon. "Plus, a Queen that might shoot you while she's on the throne. That's gonna make for some great tapestries."
Her cheeks burned red at the thought, already afraid of how much tongue lashing there'd be for her performance. Shoring away the fears for later, Rosie turned to him, "But the truth..."
"You're my kid, you're all my kids. Always and forever. That's the truth. The real truth. Maker blessed and all that stuff you stitch on pillows in old widow's houses." Her dad tipped his head and smiled wide, the wear of his nearly dying falling away. He was in his mid thirties and she two years old, sitting on father's shoulders while he showed her the world.
&nb
sp; "What of the people?"
"People shmeeple. A few might care, assholes like Eldon, but I bet you the real story will come out that you, Princess of Ferelden, cut your palm open to save the King from a very stupid death. Thereby proving once and for all that all those rumors are dumb and stupid."
"Dad," Rosie wrapped her arms around and hugged him tight. It was about so much more than the crown or Ferelden. She didn't give a fig about losing the title, or the power, but if he'd taken her father from her, from them all, Eldon would ache for the comfort of the void compared to what Rosie would unleash.
"There, there," he patted a hand into her and tugged on his collar. "I uh," his eyes wandered back towards Myra and her mother, and a blush burned on his cheeks. The elven detective stared not daggers but loving concern at the man. "I should go and talk to some other people."
"Of course," Rosie nodded her head while backing away. "Reiss is...family too."
Her dad smiled wide at that while he rose to his aching legs. Giving a little stiff walk in a circle, he patted his eldest on the back and pointed out into the crowd. "Someone's gonna want to talk to you too." Rosie followed his finger towards Anjali. The assassin stood on the side, doing her best to keep out of the way during the clean up while she nursed her bruised ribs from the bolts.
Unable to hide the burst of joy in her heart, Rosie moved to take a step forward, when her dad added. "Just...try and get her off the assassin track, if you can. The court's got enough to keep the gossip mill churning for decades already."
Rosie nodded at him while he slipped into the arms of his lover. It would be Reiss who'd truly heal his heart the way no poultice or balm could. With every step towards Anjali, Rosie's legs began to tremble. This was a disaster beyond counting and if her assassin hadn't returned to her side, then most likely Rosie would be dead or imprisoned. Her father lost to her forever.
"Anjali," she breathed her name, slipping in closer to the woman.
Her bright smile lifted an inch, Anjali breaking from the wall. Hands falling out of the cross, she moved to touch Rosie's side but paused at the hundreds of eyes watching. "Sapheela," she breathed. "You had me worried there. Blood magic is...not a trifle to be tossed around."
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