Chapter Text
9:23 Dragon
Redcliffe Castle, Arling of Redcliffe, Ferelden
“And how’s your son, Tess? You have a few days off to see him and your husband soon, right?”
“Oh, Arl Eamon’s good enough to give me one day and night every week, but I get a few days all together every season, yes.”
“And leave us in the lurch to pine while you play doting mama. Foolish, ungrateful girl,” Dera complained, but there was a smile tucked into the corners of her mouth. Tess grinned back at the cook before looking back at Alistair. Her hands fell into the bowl where she was dropping the shelled peas for supper. She loved talking about her son.
“Jarral’s just lovely. Don’t you go telling tales that I don’t love my work, and the arl’s just as good as he can be, but it just kills me to be away from him. I suppose we all have to make a living, and I’m lucky to have a good man who knows what it means to be a father. Still. Sometimes I’m so jealous of Pol, I want to scream.” Tess smiled again, a little sadly this time. “Jarral’s running and climbing and skipping rocks across the river now. He could probably give you a run for your money at marbles, Master Alistair.”
Alistair blinked at her. “Me?” he asked, placing a hand over his chest. “He’d beat me into the ground! I couldn’t hit the broad side of the barn with my shooter, and that’s the Maker’s own truth!”
“Someday, you’ll pay for all your lying and blasphemy, child, and that’s the Maker’s own truth,” Dera laughed.
“I’m sure you’re right, Dera,” Alistair said solemnly. “I’ll try to do better. For true, this time. Maybe I could beat Tess’s six-year-old son at marbles. But, really, is it any great tribute to me if I do? Unless he’s a prodigy.” He turned to Tess, affecting a worried expression. “Jarral isn’t a prodigy, is he?”
Everyone laughed, and Tess set her bowl aside to get up and hug him. “Well. I think he is. But I’m just the doting mama.” She kissed Alistair’s forehead and ruffled his hair. “Maker, it’s been an age, Alistair. Why don’t you visit with us more often? Give us the village gossip! You’re there more than most, these days.”
Alistair hugged Tess back and then let go. “Well, you know I enjoy a good gossip,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I seem to be absolutely parched.” He made his voice into a froglike croak, and Dera rolled her eyes.
“You want to tap a tankard of apple juice in the cellar? I suppose that and some nice, greasy cheese will loosen up that throat good, hmm?”
Alistair bowed. “You are a spirit of mercy, Dera. You know, you were always my favorite.”
Dera snorted, and Tess and Hazel made shocked, play-hurt faces at him. Alistair laughed and went to get a mug of apple juice. Dera was usually good for an afternoon snack and three to go any time he visited her kitchen. She was a cook. She loved feeding people.
“Is there a party happening in here?” a new voice asked from the door behind him. Alistair bit back a groan. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to. He knew that Orlesian accent.
“My lady,” Dera, Tess, and Hazel were saying behind him.
Alistair turned then. “My lady,” he said, quietly, bowing much more deeply than he had to Dera when they were just playing. He didn’t raise his eyes to look at Lady Isolde. It didn’t matter anyway. She almost never looked at him.
“I came to discuss tonight’s menu,” the arlessa said. “Though I am sure it will be delicious. You know, I did not believe Fereldans knew how to cook until I came here. Even everywhere I went in Denerim, outside of my cousin’s house, the cooks were useless. No appreciation for vegetables, no knowledge of how to use butter or of how to time a dish. But you, you have something special, Madame Dera. It is not like the cooking of Orlais, but it is hearty, savory, no? And I have never had anything like your puddings!”
“Thank you, milady,” Dera said, dimpling and giving the arlessa another curtsey. “I’m glad you’re pleased with my kitchen.”
“I am more than pleased,” Isolde announced. “I would like to show you off! To throw parties at Redcliffe again that will allow the length and breadth of the nobility to envy us our cook. I was hoping to learn your thoughts on some more complicated dishes, to explore your abilities and learn how best to take advantage of your gifts so you receive the recognition you deserve. What do you think, Madame? Are you up to the challenge?”
The arlessa’s eyes sparkled with fun and ambition, and Dera drew herself up. “Any day, milady! I’ll take on any challenge you like!”
Isolde pursed her lips then. “I do not know,” she said. “I know this is a smaller house than the ones in Denerim. With just two maids and no undercooks, you must provide for the entire castle staff, no? Perhaps you are too busy feeding all the chamber maids and grounds workers all day long to cook the kinds of feasts I wish to throw here again. Perhaps my plans are too ambitious. What do you think, Madame?”
Alistair’s stomach sank. There it is. The arlessa never even looked at him, but it always came back to him somehow. Hazel was giving him an aside glance, and Dera had turned red, her brows scrunching up in a confused frown. “I promise, milady, we can cook whatever you like for however many people you want—” she started— “Maker bless your lord husband, but I always thought he kept it a trifle quiet around here—”
“You are certain?” Isolde asked. “You seem so very busy already. No, I should not have asked. I must not be selfish.”
Alistair stepped forward. “I’m sorry I distracted Dera and the others, my lady. I’ll—”
The arlessa didn’t even acknowledge he had said something. She continued to look straight at Dera and went on as if he had never even spoken. “We must content ourselves with speaking of supper tonight for now. Perhaps we will revisit the feasts and parties again in the future, no? Perhaps when I have spoken with Eamon about his quiet and about your help in the kitchen?” She smiled dazzlingly at Dera, and the cook turned brighter red and started smiling back.
Behind her back, Tess gave Alistair a worried look. He made a face, shaking his head. I’ll be all right. Isolde didn’t see him, but she saw the way Tess was turned in his direction. She stood up even straighter. The smile seemed to freeze upon her face, and Tess froze too, seeing it. Carefully, she turned away from Alistair.
Alistair sighed and let himself out by the side door. He didn’t say goodbye. It didn’t matter anyway. None of them said goodbye to him either.