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The ceremony was lovely despite the circumstances. It never surprised her how much glamor and unnecessary decorating went into these sort of affairs, but she’d found that humans could find a way to show off their extravagant wealth even in the middle of a blight. She’d stood near the back, and even in her full warden armor, some still managed to mistake her for a castle servant and held out their empty glasses expectantly for her to take, which she didn’t.
As proud as she was to be an elf, it was hard to be proud when it kept her from so much. She’d had to remained stone-faced as the man she’d loved and survived with was married to another woman. Anora, though likely unaware of her prior relationship with Ferelden’s new king, assured that no one would replace Cailan in her heart, yet it was still another blow to know that she couldn’t be the one in the elegant gown beside him. After what had happened with Nelaros, she should have been done with the idea of weddings and true love, but the yearning feeling in her chest suggested otherwise.
Still remaining stoic, she found herself inside the castle, away from the reception and people. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, and she hadn’t, even as her chest ached further. She’d always preferred it when they were risking their lives fighting against demons and staying in the wilderness for at least she didn’t feel like as much of an outsider as she had in her own city. She remembered how Loghain and his lackeys had approached her, referring to her and her kind as nothing but animals and reminding her to be quiet for her “betters” were speaking. The anger was at least something to distract her from her silly pining.
The sound of footsteps only briefly shook her from her thoughts as she stared from the window to the courtyard below and the alienage in the distance.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty.”
“...Oh, not you too.”
She didn’t turn, no good-natured smile crossing her lips, just the same detached look she’d had when offering her in the place of her fellow elves when facing down Vaughan, the same when she’d killed him, and the same when she had suggested he marry Anora in the first place. “It’s your title, is it not? You’ll have to get used to it sometimes.”
“You’re angry.” His footsteps grew closer and she could feel the faint touch of his breath on the back of her neck where her hair had been pulled up. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not angry. You are to be the king Ferelden needs and Anora is a beautiful woman with vast knowledge of local politics.” A breath was inhaled through her slightly parted lips, arms growing tighter around each other. “It’s for the best. I understand.”
She could hear his familiar scoff just over his head. “I think her feelings for me are strictly brotherly, I’m afraid. But, that does mean that I don’t think she would mind if we--”
“--no.” The response was sharp and immediate and though she still didn’t turn, her ears had gone a violent shade of crimson. “I will not be the king’s mistress. When we decided this, I knew what it would entail.”
The silence was enough to tell her that the words had affected him deeply already, but it gave her time to elaborate. “I was prepared to enter a marriage to someone I had never met if only so I could do what was best for my people. We both have our responsibilities to uphold, regardless of our feelings about it. I wish we could have been together. I wish I could have been your bride, but that’s not something we could do.”
“I--”
She did finally turn to look at him and it took everything in her not to take his heartbroken face in her hands and kiss it until it was better, but she knew that would only make it harder once the archdemon was gone and they weren’t by each other sides. So a fleeting touch was all she left him with, resting her much smaller hand on his chest for a moment before taking careful steps out the door.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty. I wish you a long and happy rule with your new wife.”