Reaching over, Alistair wrapped Cailan in a side hug. The groom didn't stop fussing with his outfit, but he did glance over. "I'm proud of you. Have I said that yet?"
"A few times."
"It's a bit awkward, this whole 'Hi, we barely know each other and now we're married' bits, but...give it time. Take the time, don't try and rush it."
Cailan nodded a moment before he smiled, "Are you concerned I shall besmirch the good Comtess' name?"
"Knowing you? Repeatedly, and half the reception hall shall overhear it," Alistair chuckled, grateful beyond measure that they'd all be free of this curse of chastity put upon him. It was a brilliant tactic on the bride's part, ensuring her groom would be at the chantry with bells on. Cailan was so screwed with her, but Bea probably got it right. He needed someone crafty to keep him in line.
Picking up his gloves, Cailan dangled both over his arm while he got in one final look at his appearance. Seeming to accept it, he turned over to the old man who looked presentable enough, but should probably be sitting outside the wedding telling passerby's outlandish stories about boats and birds. "Thanks," Cailan smiled, "for fixing my knot of office."
"That's what I'm here for. And seat filling. I'm an expert at that. Sit in chair. Don't move. True savant really."
His son snickered, and a hand reached over to shake Alistair's. He took it a moment and smiled. Around them the bells began to chime. Another ten minutes until showtime. He needed to get...somewhere. Probably somewhere important. Eh, Karelle would jab him into place as she always did.
Alistair turned to leave to give his son a few final moments of freedom to himself before he paused. "You know, we could have invited Cordell here."
"After Rosie's ban? She seemed rather adamant and shooty about it."
"There are always loopholes. A few hours at least, to watch you get married. It's an important day and all." Alistair shifted on his feet. Things had grown chilly between the two of them when the full truth came out. He should have expected it. He loved Cailan, he was his son, but they never clicked the way he did with Spud. His radish was so very different that sometimes they only found commonality by talking and laughing about the differences. Cailan took up residence further south near Gwarrin afterwards, on the assumption that his skills were put to better use in a new port city. The Queen spent half her year with her son, and the other up here in theory with her husband but everyone knew it was to be near Rosie.
Alistair would do all he could to keep his kids close, but he couldn't really blame them for wanting to stretch their wings a bit. The collar could chafe.
Trying to not feel too bad for himself as he came to accept the future of a lonely palace, Alistair began to shift towards the door. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to Cailan's ice blue eyes. "Far as I'm concerned, I only have one Dad. I don't want anyone else here."
Alistair spun back and wrapped his son in a hug. He expected the man to go limp or try to wiggle out, but Cailan returned it. His arms dug in while both men thought back to all the other hugs in his lifetime. How many times Alistair would scoop up the baby toddling along and place him on his back. How he'd sit on the nursery rug listening to a long winded story from an ecstatic boy. How he'd be bowled over by some random piles of numbers and barely be able to follow the words spitting out of Cailan's lips. How he missed his son with all his heart even if he understood why he had to break free.
"I," Alistair tried to wipe away the tears quick as he staggered back. "I should go before everyone starts screaming that the King's vanished."
Cailan snickered, "That was a fun Soul Day though."
"Get locked in one barn on accident and suddenly people think the entire monarchy's about to collapse," Alistair sighed, shaking his head. "Good luck, son. You'll do wonderful."
"Thanks, Dad."
Alistair cracked open the door and was about to slide out when he paused to add, "Oh, and make sure you say the right girl's name otherwise...ooh I would not want to be in your shoes."
* * *
Waving away a platter piled high with roast pig stuffed with some kind of tiny bird, maybe bluejays? Alistair patted his far too fluffy stomach. Blessed Maker, if anyone tried to get him to try this or that nibble he was going to explode into a spray of guts all over the place. Bit of a downer for the happy couple.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught said wedded blissers staring lovingly into each other's eyes. Cailan held his new bride's hand as if he was constantly helping her to cross the street. Was she a princess now, or something else? Something about the Arlessa of somewhere. Eh, he could ask Karelle later if it mattered.
"The ceremony was lovely," the big sop beside him sniffled. She'd been on a constant drip since the moment her baby boy walked down the aisle all alone.
"What little was visible through all the tears," Alistair said to the Queen.
Beatrice folded into her lap her handkerchief that at this point was pulling a triple shift. "He's my son. I couldn't help but get a little flustered at how much he's grown."
"I don't remember so much blubbering at Spud's wedding." Which wasn't that big of a surprise. Rosie and her mother would sometimes come to a head over matters, but Cailan was her baby boy. No questioning that.
The Queen shrugged, "I did tear up seeing her all poised...and, walking down the aisle with her..." Bea sniffled and tugged up a fresh lacy hankie to cover her nose.
"Oh Maker," Alistair couldn't stop the laugh in his chest, "here they come again."
"Are you really so callow as to not feel swept up in this moment? Both of our children so grown that they're married, begun families of their own?"
Alistair tipped his head to the side. He still had one more yet to go, and he rather doubted Rosie or Cailan were going to vanish into the ether with their spouses. But... Reaching over, Alistair patted the top of Bea's hand. Her cold, emerald eyes darted over to him, but he was smiling sweetly.
"It got to me too. Seeing them so tall and saying those binding words. Our babies are having babies."
"Maker turn his gaze on Cailan," Beatrice whispered with a prayer, but the edge of her eyes were crinkling up. This was about as civil as the two of them got.
At least the wedding planning on his end was easy. Bea, what do you need from me? Nothing. Great. I'll be out hunting. Ta.
Shifting in his chair, Alistair followed his Queen's gaze to the man dabbing a bit of soup off his new wife's chin. "I wouldn't worry. Kid's a bit strange but he'll get the hang of it."
After smiling, with eyes only for the blushing bride, Cailan's ice blue glare whipped over to the parents. "Are you quite finished dissecting me?"
"Got a bit of a mouth on him though," Alistair said while scratching his chin.
Beatrice laughed in her little held-in lilt, "All of your children do."
"True, very very true," he sighed, massaging into his temples. Rosamund was working the crowds, doing her princessly duties, and somewhere out there was Myra hopefully not getting into too much trouble. What he really wanted right now was to find himself a small glass of liquor, curl up in his favorite chair, and watch the fire pop. Also to yank off this damn vest they strapped him into. It was so tight, he suspected all his internal organs made their way to his brain or feet.
Alistair stood up, wanting to make good on his plan even if he knew he'd get swept up in politics on the way out, when a preternatural hush fell over the crowd. He held his breath too, his eyes drawn across the stilled ballroom as the doors opened to a heavenly sight. A woman stood there, her hands crossed under her breasts which were swaddled in golden fabric the same color as her hair. She stepped in softly, no boots on for once. The dancing slippers barely made a sound as she crossed into the ballroom. One of the guards turned to the elf waltzing in as she owned the place.
All but leaping over the tables, Alistair dashed through the happy crowds of people to intercept her before any problems began. Those sweeping meadowy eyes crinkled at the edges, her smile wrinkles always br
inging more to him.
"Reiss," he breathed, picking up her hand and pulling her closer. She floated on her shoes into his embrace. "I didn't think you were going to come."
"Well," she shrugged, her cascade of golden hair shimmering in the move. It was already white in great streaks along the roots, giving her an ombre look as it reached to the small of her back. "I finished early and...thought you might like a dance or two."
Alistair smiled wider, his soul lifting in joy. It'd been burdened a lot lately, and while many couldn't understand what the death of Lanny meant to him, at least he had Reiss and his children to help him get through it.
Darting his hand forward, he moved to scoop up the love of his life into his arms, when his hand instinctively drew apart her golden hair. "No bun?"
"I thought it would be more festive."
"You are the most beautiful person here," Alistair whispered in her remaining ear.
The woman in her 60's with greying hair, scars from a hard life, and a scab where her ear once was turned to the man staring dumbstruck at her. "There are dozens of beautiful women a quarter of my age in attendance," Reiss pointed out while jabbing towards the tittering maids.
Alistair shook his head, "I can't see 'em. I can't see a damn thing. You blinded me with your beauty."
"Maker's breath," she rolled those intoxicating eyes and playfully shoved at his chest. But then that smile appeared and Reiss grabbed onto his shoulder to pull him in for a kiss. Sweeter than anything he had a right to, Alistair wanted more but there was a lot of extended and super extended family hanging around. Probably best to keep it all ages appropriate for now.
"Would you care to dance, my lady?" he extended his hand to her with an emphatic finish. Reiss sighed, grabbed it, and tugged him to grip right against the small of her back.
As she slid her hands up his shoulders to knot behind his neck, Alistair fell into something of the beat. He didn't really care what was going on, he had her in his arms. For a time, Reiss glanced around -- no doubt doing her detective thing -- but that wore away to the woman inside who got to enjoy a dance with the man she loved.
When she nuzzled her cheek against his chest, Alistair sighed in contentment. "I adore you," he whispered, twisting her around to avoid the swivel of couples actually dancing to the beat. Ignore your old king and his love, they're gonna hang out in the slow lane for awhile.
Reiss looked up at him and sighed, "I feel silly in this dress."
Tipping his head, he gazed down at her body clinging tight to the golden waves. The skirt puffed out a bit, emphasizing her hips, and the bodice...Maker, he adored how low it cut. With one of those v dips right above her sternum and hints to the outline of the breasts on either side. There was a good chance he might start drooling a little from the view.
"You look beautiful in it," Alistair whispered, secretly aching to yank it off her.
"It's Myra's, I'm far too old to be in it," she kept on beating herself up. "But I didn't have anything else..."
"Reiss," Alistair turned her on the dance floor, then scooped her tight into his arms, "I am head choppingly jealous of that dress right now because it gets to touch you in all the places I can't."
She snickered at his flirting, but he knew that spark in her eyes. There wasn't going to be any quietly retiring to his study tonight. Well, they might run off to the study. That desk was a good height after all.
"How was the ceremony?" she tried to change tactics even while her body swayed closer to his. He was lost in the press of her breasts to his chest, and the shaking bell of her hips.
"Hm...good. Got the kid married off, so it did what it was supposed to..." The rousing attention in his trousers from her hips pressing into his waned as he turned to look back at his children. Rosie made her way over to Cailan, the two talking about something. Whatever it was, Cailan rolled his eyes, plucked up a bottle of wine, and began to chug it.
"I can't believe two of them are already married off. How did they get so old?"
"Probably around the time we got very old," Reiss chuckled. He joined in even if he didn't believe it. Alistair was old, but Reiss...even at eighty, ninety, a hundred she'd never be old. Not with those eyes that could rival an orlesian garden and a tongue that would henpeck the orlesian gardener.
"Speaking of kids," she said, "did you see who ours brought as an escort?"
Alistair nodded, his lips brushing against her ear, "I did. That was kind of her to ask him, invite him as a distraction after everything he's been through."
"Judging by how they've been secretly holding hands under the table the whole time, kindness had nothing to do with it."
"What?" Alistair whipped his head over to find his youngest sitting in her spot at the table. The man beside her was in a borrowed doublet instead of his knight armor, Gavin smiling a bit at whatever Myra said. Both had their hands on the table, one cupping a glass, the other fiddling with a napkin.
"They're not..." he began, when both of the kids made those eyes at each other and their hands vanished under the cloth. "Blighted toe of Andraste. How long has this been going on?"
"Not very," Reiss said.
"Did she tell you?"
"Of course not," the mother who always knew scoffed. "They're worried."
Alistair tried to look back, but Reiss tugged him away to face a different direction, "About what?"
"You."
"Me? What did I do?"
"You, not approving. It's at that whole moon eyes, and sneaking kisses, and whispering stupid things into each other's ear stage. Very early."
He slowed in his dancing to beam his puppy dog eyes right into hers. "I dunno, it seems I still adore staring directly into your beautiful eyes." A bit of a blush rose on Reiss' cheeks and she snickered.
"And I try to steal every kiss from you I can get away with." He pulled their conjoined hands together in order to place his lips against his finger and then press it to her lips. Reiss sighed at the contact, her shrewd eyes calculating how many people were looking at her right now and weighing the risk of going for the real thing.
Alistair slid closer, the woman he was too damn lucky to have in his life folding tight against his body. "And I whisper into your ear every chance I can."
"Usually stupid things too," Reiss smiled, but she licked her lip at the thought. Maker, he wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her away.
"I love you," he said, his heart thumping harder in his chest.
She smiled, "That's probably the stupidest of them all."
"No, I..." the playing fell away, Alistair gasping as the finality of it all landed upon him. He'd curse about getting older to anyone in earshot but he never thought it a possibility. Not until Lanny...
Bundling up Reiss' hands in his own, the two old lovers froze in the middle of the dance floor. Seas of younger couples floated around them while they clung to each other. "I love you, and every damn day I am left in this world I am forever grateful that you found me, you saved me," he cupped her cheek that was starting to burn with a blush, "That you loved me."
"Alistair," she breathed, the first sign of tears glistening on her eyelashes. He'd done a lot of stuff in his life, some good, some occasionally going totally bottom's up, but he knew there was nothing he could have done to deserve her.
"Yeah?" he prompted, feeling as giddy and foolish as the first time they kissed out in the courtyard. Though some of that stomach knot may have been from her kicking him.
Reiss bit into her lip and tipped her head to the side, "Let's get out of here."
"Oh yes!" he gasped. And, despite being in his 60's, he plucked Reiss up in his arms. She laughed, insisting he put her down, but he felt as if he could carry the world at the moment. "Out of the way," Alistair cried, parting through the crowds, "love emergency." The entire walk to the door, she nuzzled tight to his chest -- the she that was forever tattooed in his heart.
Laughing, Reiss snatched up a bottle of wine before the two vanished from the party entirely
.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Majesty
Princess Rosamund smiled to the men she'd been leading around on a tour of the palace. In truth, she hadn't stopped smiling since breakfast and her cheeks were liable to snap like a twig soon. The ache traveled all the way up to her eyes, but there were appearances to keep and a long bath awaited her after, when her father took over.
"Gentlemen," she commanded to get their attention, "as you can see, this statue dates from nearly four hundred years ago around the time of the fourth blight."
A few rounds of aha's and hm's broke out while the men all scratched their pointed beards. When she first spotted them, Rosie grew a theory that all men in that region had a predisposition for their hair to grow to a dagger's point. Then she met their leader and realized it was less blood at work more dictated style. Some seemed to be struggling with the fashion, wearing what appeared to be false hair attached to their chins, which bobbed and weaved with every scratch.
Well, that was probably enough time to look at an old horse. On to the next...
"Your Highness," a voice gasped, feet sliding across the tiled floor before the servant managed to slow.
"Yes?" Rosie clung to her shroud of eternal calm while mentally she began to tick over everything that could be going fatally wrong in her world.
After adjusting her tunic, the messenger pointed behind her, "The Rivaini ambassador has returned."
Her face remained polite neutral by sheer willpower while Rosie watched a woman saunter into the room and command it in an instant. A gorgeous, red silk-lined half cape dangled off her shoulder -- stations of her new office. The doublet was more scarlet than black now, but it was hard to deny how the color made her tattoos pop and skin shine.
Dipping her head down, Anjali greeted the princess with a smile, "Good afternoon."
Despite her lips aching, Rosie couldn't hide the rise of her smile as she stepped a touch closer to Anjali. "Ambassador," she greeted her, causing Anjali to snort a moment as if the title were still a facade. "You've returned early."
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