Fleeing the Scene (Alistair)

[Empress Celene I]

How dreadful. Simply dreadful. How could this have possibly happened to her? She was the empress for Maker's sake! Oh how things could change so rapidly in such a short amount of time. It seemed like yesterday she had taken her place as Empress of her beloved Orlais, and now here she was, crammed into a ship, forced to flee from her home in fear of death. And she only have one place to go, and that, was Ferelden. Perhaps there were worse places than Ferelden, and at least there she had connections. She could take her time and regroup, as well as plot for her revenge against that damnable Gespard for stealing what was rightfully hers. He would pay for each and every day she had to stay away from her throne and country. She had already spent far too much time on this ship. What was it now? Four weeks? Perhaps that, perhaps more. It was hard to tell.

Ah, at least she didn't leave entirely empty handed. Celene was grateful she was at least able to take a great deal of her attire with her, as well as her most loyal servants, including her very odd, yet unique servant Sandal. He wasn't the brightest, but he proved to be entertaining and useful to Celene thanks to her unique enchanting abilities. Again, it was better than leaving with absolutely nothing. Still though, she loathed every last moment of this.

Celene had ventured from below decks, having wished to get some fresh air. She had been informed just moments ago that they were nearing the docks of Denerim, and this brought a little smile upon her fair face. Soon she could be off this ship and be able to roam about as she pleased. She smiled again at the thought of Alistair's bewilderment of her being here. How would he react? Celene pondered this, feeling amusement. Well, soon enough she would see his reaction, no? Surely by now he would have been alerted of an incoming ship. Or well, soon he would be at any rate. After all, Denerim was right there, perhaps another mile away, not even that.

After a short time, the ship laid anchor and docked in the port of Denerim. Celene had been in the process of having her things be prepared to be taken out when the time came. She stepped off the ship, taking in Denerim in a single glance. Ugh. Ferelden was far different than her beautiful, clean Orlais. It looked so dull and smelled of...ugh...wet dogs. But, it would need to suffice. And at least it was better than being trapped on the ship. She would not be able to stand another day on it. Celene began walking away, just finally glad to be walking on ground rather than wood. Of course, she was not alone. She brought along a few of her servants, Sandal included, as she made her way down the streets of the city. Celene knew there were stares heading her way, but she didn't care. She carried herself with as much pride and dignity as she could muster as the empress made her way to the palace.

After another short amount of time, Celene was pushing open the doors of the palace with her group of servants close behind, Sandal being the closest. However, a few guards had stepped in her path as soon as the doors opened. They had told her to leave, to which she gave a slight scoff. "Have you any idea who I am? I am Empress Celene, and I am here to speak with King Alistair. Allow me to pass." She said proudly in her Orlesian accent. "Enchantment!" Sandal bellowed from beside Celene, giving an excited clap of his hands. The guards looked skeptical for a moment, but allowed the woman to pass without further questioning.

After that little mess, Celene brushed passed the guards, holding her head held high as she daintily made her way towards the throne where Alistair was. A coy little smile appeared on her face as she neared him, halting a good several feet away from the king. "Greetings your majesty." Celene said, giving the king a curtsey as she spoke.

[Alistair Theirin]

“Your Majesty, this is the sixth body we have found murdered this week and the evidence points clearly toward the Alianage, the knife-ears are up to something and they are slaughtering our noble-men and women. We cannot let this go unpunished! Let me deal with this and I will give you the answers we need to solve this mystery.” Teyrn Landon pleaded to King Alistair, angered and frusterated about the fact that so many of his friends had been killed in the streets. It was the elves, he knew it. He just needed to find the proof, one way or another.

“No Teyrn Landon, I will let Ser Cauthrien take care of this, you have other duties.” Alistair answered firmly, knowing well enough what the Teyrn was capable off. There were rumors, and not the good kind, people had come up to Alistair and told stories about Landon, stories that one would not want to believe, but which seemed to be true. However Alistair had no real proof to support their claims, the Teyrn of Gwaren was a clever man and apparently he knew very well how to cover up his dirty deeds. Why Anora wanted to keep him around, Alistair could never understand, what was it she saw in him that he didn`t? Was it because he knew her father, or was there something else going on behind his back? No matter, Alistair thought, as long he did not cause any more harm than necessary.

“But your Majesty, I…” Landon began to protest, but before he could finish, the doors to the throne room opened. What was this? They did not except any visitors, and there certainly was no meeting among nobles today, what was happening? In an instant the Teyrn grabbed the hilt of his sword, ready to fight, but when he saw who had come, he fell silent.

Because of the sudden sound from the door as it opened, Alistair had almost gotten scared, but as he too turned to see what was happening, his eyes lit up in awe. There she was, in his palace, but why? What in the Maker`s name was she doing in Ferelden?

“Oh, eh…Empress Celene?” Alistair spoke in shock and disbelief, surprised to see the Orlesian Empress in Ferelden. The closer she stepped, the more nervous he got and when she made her formal curtsy, greeting him, he became speechless. What a stunning beauty, he thought, and how fair dressed she was. It made everyone seem inferior, even him, who was simply clad in the brown typical noble clothing that was common in Ferelden. Had he only known she was coming, then he certainly would have prepared, but now there was no time for such. What would Queen Anora think when she found out about this? Maybe she already had.

Since the Empress had come to Ferelden uninvited, it could only mean one thing. For months Alistair had observed the situation in her Empire, and truth be told he had been worried about her safety, especially when he got the news that her precious capital laid under siege. How she escaped that, he didn`t know, but thankfully she was still alive, and now obviously right in front of him.

Just as she made her curtsy, Alistair was knocked into senses when the Teyrn gently pushed his back forward and when he got wary of the situation, he in response made his formal bow while he reached for her hand, which he gently kissed. “Your Highness.” He said and smiled, with a glance back up at her face, admiring the sight. “What…what brings you to Ferelden? Last I heard you were fighting a civil war.” He asked almost stuttering, but then as his gaze ventured from her to her servants and guards, he recognized an old friend by her side. “Sandal, is that you?” Alistair questioned overwhelmed, happy to see the little dwarf again after so many years. It seemed as if he had grown a lot since the Blight, but where was his father and what was he doing alongside the Empress. He didn`t understand, although hoped he soon would get the answers.