Work Text:
It was with an exhausted sigh that Alistair stepped out into the royal gardens.
Almost immediately a strong, floral, scent hit his nose, the sun shining bright against the watercolor arrangement of flowers and making him squint. It wasn’t so much that the gardens themselves were particularly bright or gaudy, no more so than any other spring day at least. Being kept inside from breakfast until well after lunch, however, left him rather unprepared for how vibrant the outside world was.
A welcome change from the dim throne room, or his study.
His stomach growled insistently, a reminder of the meal that had been skipped in lieu of solving land disputes and planning a diplomatic visit to Orlais, and Alistair hurried down the graveled path of the gardens. Past the tulips and daises, the sprigs of elfroot and the rosebushes, he nodded a quick greeting to some of the gardeners before veering off to the left.
As he approached the trellis covered in vines of prophet’s laurel and trumpeter blooms, he let an apology rise to his lips.
“Do you like fried mush and nug?” An apology that died almost instantly when he heard Theo speaking softly. “I do not like them Mister Klug! I do not like fried mush and nug!”
His steps slowed considerably as he followed the path, Alistair pausing to take in the sight before his eyes.
Theo was sitting comfortably on one of the lounge chairs, the remains of their meal spread out on a table and Elle curled contently in her lap. Their daughter looked to be asleep, one little arm dangling precariously over her mother’s knee with a small smile on her face. As though even then, unaware of anything beyond her dreams, she couldn’t help but giggle at her favorite poem.
“Would you eat them on a rug? If you eat, you’ll get a hug!” Theo glanced up at his arrival, grinning even as she continued working her fingers through Elle’s curls, braiding them neatly. “I would not eat them on a rug; from you, I would not want a hug.”
“I would not eat them on a rug! From you, I would not want a hug.” He said, the lines coming easy from repeating the poem at least once a week for the past four years. “Sorry I’m late. Meetings got held over, you know how much detail has to go into planning an Orlesian visit.”
Elle twitched slightly when Theo shifted to let him snuggle in close, giving a quiet little grunt as her fingers twitched slightly.
“Luckily for you, I saved some of the brie tarts you’re so fond of.” She chuckled, relaxing against his chest after a bit more juggling so he could grab one.
Alistair scarfed it down quickly, not even allowing himself the time to enjoy the flaky crust. “Suff a graffous queen.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Theo chided, hiding a giggle in her shoulder as he finished chewing. “And don’t you dare wake Elle up, I just got her down for a nap.”
He wanted to point out that nothing short of another Archdemon would wake their daughter once she was out, but given the fact that his ribs were dangerously exposed to Theo’s elbows, he wisely focused on eating a little slower. Playing a quick game of catch-up, he focused more on satisfying his hunger than really tasting the food, and it didn’t take long for him to finish the remains of the lunch.
“I am sorry I missed lunch.” He apologized again, one arm curling around his wife’s waist as he planted a kiss to the top of her head. “Though I notice you’ve managed to master sneaky hair braiding.”
She tilted her head up to look at him, grinning. “When do you think she’ll notice?”
“If we’re lucky? Not until after her lessons with Enchanter Surana.” He sighed.
Elle was a whirlwind of a child, and at the point in her life where she absolutely detested having her hair up out of her face. Never mind the fact that it would frequently fall into her ink well otherwise when she was working on her letters, or that it was a pain to clean the paint out of it, she insisted that nobody braid her hair. Which had led them to employing some relatively stealthy ways of pulling it back to keep it clean. It wasn’t something they did often, but after a few complaints of inky curls left in the pages of their books in the library, drastic measures had to be taken.
“Ah yes, become the court mage for the King and Queen of Ferelden. We’ll look to you for guidance in all matters of arcane and magical providence, and also to babysit our little hellion.” Theo laughed.
“Under the guise of teaching, even. It’s a miracle he didn’t up and quit on us from the beginning.” Alistair nodded seriously.
Theo bit her lip thoughtfully. “We should get him a cheese basket or something. Send him on a vacation, perhaps? Do something nice.”
“You’re right. Between Elle and the puppy, his patience has been tested beyond legal limits.” He leaned back against the arm of the lounge, enjoying the comfortable weight of his wife and their daughter against his chest.
He didn’t know how much time he’d have until Teagan came to drag him into some more meetings, but he was bound and determined to enjoy it while he could.