Fic: Teagan's Chance: Love Lost
This is a sequel to Teagan’s Chance. You can read it by itself, but I think it’s more poignant if you’ve read the first chapter. It’s also a response to the challenge “ Love Lost.” I apologize to Bann Teagan fans for the Alistair-heavy nature of this piece. Some stories just need to be told. You may also notice that I went from vague-Warden to Warden-With-A-Name (River). It made sense to me from a logistics standpoint that Teagan, at this point in the story, would think of our hero as “the Warden” instead of her name--he doesn’t really know her well yet, and he’s got her on a bit of a pedestal. But Alistair is her best friend, and has no such excuses.
Anyway. The next piece will pick up where we left off with Teagan, so Alistair fans, enjoy him now, and Teagan fans, you shouldn’t have long to wait.
And should you like this piece, I live for comments. ^__^
crossposted to swooping_is_bad and dao_challenge
Title: Teagan’s Chance: Love Lost
Author: SignCherie
Rating: E
Pairing: Teagan/Warden
Summary: Alistair follows his fellow Warden from the coronation ball...
He shouldn’t have left the coronation ball. Eamon would have his skin when he caught up with him, and Anora’s face when he left...well, he wasn’t looking forward to facing that music. But, Maker take it, he was the King. If he wanted to step out of his own coronation ball for a few minutes, he should think it was his right.
Anyway, River had left first, and she was just as much a guest of honor as he was. Yeah, sure, technically it was a coronation ball, but everyone knew they were really celebrating the end of the Blight. As the woman who slew the archdemon, River had just as much responsibility to be there as he did.
That’s what he would tell Eamon. I just left to bring our hero back. I thought people would get...persnickity. No, not persnickity. Irked?
That story would never work on Anora, though. He didn’t think there was any story good enough to get him off the hook with her. Maybe he could just...hide from her until she forgot about it.
Of course, it wasn’t true anyway. He’d left for sheer curiosity’s sake. He wanted to know what his fellow Warden was up to.
So now Alistair was waiting just around the corner from the door to River’s quarters. She’d looked like a woman on a mission when she left the ballroom, and Alistair was betting that it didn’t involve holing up in her quarters for the remainder of the night.
His patience paid off. After a few minutes, the click of her door opening let him know that she had emerged. He peered around the corner to see her hurrying down the corridor, away from him.
Alistair followed.
Luckily for him, night had fallen, and there were very few torches lighting these corridors. Alistair had pestered Leliana until she’d taught him her “walk silently” trick. He wasn’t very good at it, but it was better than his usual gallumphing, and he tried it now. It worked--she didn’t notice him--and Alistair was mildly surprised. Even with the dim lighting and his quiet steps, he fully expected River to turn around and call him out for spying.
She didn’t, and that could only mean one thing: whatever she was up to, her mind was completely occupied by it.
Aha, my friend! he joked to himself. You cannot hide your secrets from me! I shall unearth your dastardly deeds!
As they wound through the palace corridors, Alistair trailing behind the oblivious Warden, it dawned on him where they were heading, and he began to smirk.
Really? With a huge feast going on in the ballroom, you’re sneaking off to the kitchens?
This was too funny an opportunity to pass up.
Just as he was preparing to ambush her--and mock her mercilessly, of course--he saw something that wiped the smirk from his face.
Bann Teagan was waiting outside the kitchen doors.
Alistair blinked. Why in Andraste’s name would River be meeting Bann Teagan outside the palace kitchens?
Teagan saw her, and his face lit up. Alistair couldn’t see River’s face, but Bann Teagan took her hand and kissed it.
It was like being hit in the face with a bucket of water.
Alistair understood.
He pressed himself against the wall, in the shadows, so he wouldn’t be seen. He could hear the lilt of their voices, but he wasn’t close enough to make out words. Then the creaking of the kitchen door told him they were gone.
He sank to the floor.
Well, of course she’s going to find someone, dummy. She’s beautiful, and strong, and brilliant. And too good to be alone.
And Alistair had never told her how he felt.
It was too late for regrets now. He was King of Fereldan, married to Anora. Even if he were single, he couldn’t marry River. They were both Grey Wardens, tainted. He had a duty to provide an heir.
He had thought it all through before.
But...Bann Teagan? He was so old, so...stuffy. River was young and unconventional and bold. He was completely wrong for her. Alistair tried to imagine them together--Teagan holding her hand, Teagan kissing her--but the images wouldn’t come.
Then they did, and he wished to Andraste they hadn’t.
“Maker,” Alistair groaned.
The problem was, he couldn’t keep up the pretense that Bann Teagan wouldn’t be good for her. Alistair liked Teagan. He’d always looked out for Alistair back at Redcliffe. He was a good man. He had a strong sense of justice and honor--just like River.
Teagan would treat her well. He had a reputation as something of a ladies man, but Alistair knew that it stemmed from his previous relationships simply...not working out. Teagan was too honorable to lead a woman on.
It was a good situation for everyone. Except, of course, for Alistair.
Maker, but his heart ached.
He wished he could be angry at River. He wished he could yell at her until she felt as bad as he did. He wished he could lock her up in chains and keep her away from all men until she was a wrinkled old lady.
He couldn’t, because he loved her, and loving her meant that her happiness was more important than anything. He couldn’t blame her for trying to find happiness. Especially when he’d never told her, never given her another choice.
He might hate himself forever for that. But he couldn’t blame her.
A loud clatter made Alistair jump.
A servant was standing in front of him. She had dropped her tray, and had her hands clapped over her mouth.
“You...Your Majesty...” she stammered through her fingers.
“No, no, no!” Alistair scrambled to his feet. “Shh, shh! It’s okay!” He began to pick up her tray.
Too late. She was falling into a deep curtsey.
“No, don’t do that.” Cursing, he pulled the startled servant up by the arm and thrust the tray into her hands, then glanced down the hallway. The coast was clear, thank the Maker. “Listen--what’s your name?”
She looked up at him with round eyes. “B-Brigid, Your Majesty.”
“Right. Brigid. I was never here, okay? I mean, you never saw me.”
The frightened girl began to curtsey again. “Yes, Your Majesty. Of course.”
“That’s fine. That’s fine. Just--go on back to whatever you were doing.”
Brigid gave one last bob of a curtsey before scurrying off toward the kitchen doors.
Alistair sighed. He’d better get out of here before anyone else came along. Hopefully, Brigid was a woman of her word. He didn’t want River to know that he was out here.
As he headed back toward the ballroom, Alistair grumbled to himself, “Teagan had better be good to her. Or I’ll...I’ll demote him to palace shoe-polisher. And then I’ll send him Oghren’s shoes.”
That idea cheered him up considerably.