faderift | [OPEN] "At last, the Light shall shine..."

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[OPEN] "At last, the Light shall shine..."

WHO: Aleron Darton and OPEN
WHAT: Catchall post for March
WHEN: Present time: March/Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold: library, tavern, Camp Shady, out and about
NOTES: If prompts provided don't work for you, we can whip up something that does.

[Aleron's a man of routine and constancy, even when his life is on the brink of being turned upside down. Every morning and evening he's in the chapel attending to daily devotions. Each afternoon, he saddles his horse and rides over the Warden camp to spend time with Bethany. A familiar face in the area now if ever there were one. In the evening, he brings a book and sometimes some correspondence to read at Herald's Rest while slowly drinking one, and only one, ale or glass of wine.

Except there's something of a hiccup or two causing a logjam to his daily schedule. Instead of disposing of his letters from his family... he's reading them. And responding to them, even! Which means even more of his time is spent in the Library attending to his correspondence. This leads to less time spent in pleasure reading or in matters of research. If this is not strange enough, his e'er unflappable expression gives way to sighs, rubbing his eyes, and leaning back in his chair to issue some silent plea to the Maker.

Afternoons are no longer spent in the training yard either. Rather, he seems quite intent on seeking out friends to make inquiries with them about wedding attendance. Which perhaps explains the flurry of mail coupled with extreme exasperation. What does it even matter if the groom's clothes are green or blue anyway? And that long-suffering sigh? Probably tied to the man having just ordered a second drink for the third night in a row at the tavern.]

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[There's always so much to do around Skyhold, and now with a movement of forces upcoming, those higher up are busier than ever with planning and organising. Malcolm does, also, have his routines, and he can be found often in his usual haunts, but plenty of time is spent holed up in Cassandra's office as well, going over this, arranging for that. He'll be going, of course, as soon as possible, to be her arm across the sea.

So, no pressure. Malcolm has pages folded up under his arm, making his way from her office back into the hallowed halls of Skyhold to get to--well, it doesn't matter where he's getting to, because there's Aleron, looking for all the world as if he needs (another) drink. Was he being waited for, or is he here to see their fellow Seeker?]

Why so anxious, friend? Has something happened?

( when he comes seeking gwenaëlle, she's not hard to find; her self-imposed withdrawal from the rest of skyhold has by and large ended, though she's not been much for social calls. her latest maidservant - a young human orlesian girl, yva - directs him from her quarters to find her on a quiet part of the ramparts -

he interrupts her in the midst of climbing up to her usual nook on the ruined second floor of an unused tower. she's been coming here often enough it shows signs of her presence, a lamp half-hidden for the later hours, a few cushions and a thick blanket, the most secure part of the floor cleaned neatly for her use.

there's a long pause, gwenaëlle slowly lowering her scrambling feet back to the ground. )

Hello, cousin.

( this is fine. what does he need. )

[Maker, does he ever need another drink. There's a move on the horizon already and now there's wedding planning on top of it. Mother and sisters clamoring with a dozen questions about the most inane details and really shouldn't this all be Bethany's decisions anyway? He just wants to marry the woman! Colors and flowers don't matter as long as the bride is there and says 'I do.'

A slight smile twitches at the corner of his mouth and then Aleron nods.]

I have some news. And a request to make.

[The maid doesn't take him by surprise. Not even that it's a new maid. Nor that it's an Orlesian girl, charming little thing. It's that Gigi is now quite grown enough to have such a young maidservant. He pauses for a moment, mildly gawking, and then shakes his head because he doesn't wish to stare. Maker, why do all these children keep growing up and making him feel old?]

Ah, Gwenaëlle. I always forget you're no longer a little girl.

[He knows, but the reality of such knowledge hasn't ever really settled on him. It's rather like the shock he experienced on seeing his sisters Layla and Imogen as adults for the first time last year. Hard to believe they were women grown and mothers besides, for all he's been kept abreast of their lives via letters.]

I'm not interrupting am I?

I feel like the news never stops. [Aleron doesn't seem too upset. Tired, perhaps. Being around the likes of him long enough can make anyone an expert in his so-subtle-you-need-to-invent-the-microscope moods.] Of course I'll do what I can to help.

I'll understand if you cannot once you've heard it. Change is on the horizon and you're well in the thick of it.

[He can see that stack of paperwork tucked under your arm, buddy. It's quite possible you'll be too swamped to wade out for a wedding.]

I've asked Bethany to marry me.

[Stated just as calmly as anything else that comes out of Aleron's mouth. Though that bare hint of a smile gives away her favorable reply and just how thrilled he is that she's said yes. Because he really thought after meeting Mama she would have gone running away screaming.]

And I- we would like you to be in the wedding.

[Were he a different person, he might have let those pages dramatically drop. But it would be such a hassle to pick them back up and sorted back into the proper order, so instead Malcolm's face will just have to do. Wide-eyed stare lending itself quickly to a grin the likes of which few people tend to see.]

Aleron Darton, I never thought I'd see the day! I knew you two were fond of each other, but--marriage.

[Given Al's history, it's momentous. Malcolm claps a hand on his shoulder.]

Yes, yes of course I'll be there. I'll not let anything short of the cold embrace of death stop me. [andraste take the wheel why does he have to be so dramatic] When are you aiming for? Where? Surely you'll be somewhere closer to home than Kirkwall.

[He might think he's just having a normal walk down to the Warden camp to discuss things with his future bride -- and hand off fashion decisions alone - but what is going to happen first is that he is going to be tackled into a tree, gently, and then have said fiancee putting her arms around him and kissing him, just beyond the sight of Skyhold and the Warden camp itself.

Yes, even Bethany Hawke can be a leeeeetle bit fiery when she wants to be.

She will let his mouth go after a long moment, her eyes still closed as she murmured.] Why, hello there, future husband.

Everyone does, ( a bit dryly, of his forgetfulness; she will never be quite grown enough, she thinks, for some. particularly not now her grandfather resides in skyhold, scrutinizing the inquisition down his aristocratic nose. ) And no.

( well, maybe, a little. she doesn't come here for company--

but it isn't often that he seeks her out. she can make a bit of time. )

What is it?

[Well now. That is one hell of a hello and Aleron's quite certain he could very well get used to it. Even pinned against a tree, he manages to wrap his arms firmly around Bethany and even sneaking up one hand to cradle her head all the closer.]

Just who I was looking for.

[Although for what purpose? Who even cares. She's there and beautiful and more kissing is demanded.]

[Aleron rubs the back of his neck mildly sheepishly. He's not fussed about sharing the news with Malcolm but he's so unaccustomed to anything in his life warranting a big response (even if he recognizes that yes it is huge) that he finds himself mildly embarrassed.]

We're planning for Summerday. [It's soon and a holiday meant for weddings anyway.] We'd just as soon not wait much longer. Bethany wishes somewhere rural for the wedding and my sister volunteered Endridge. Mother hates it, naturally.

[Ah Mama's Orlesian snobbery against the Free Marches even after all this time, gotta love it.]

So the move to Kirkwall is more timely than we'd thought.

I wished to see how you were doing. And inquire if you were free to go for a ride.

[He's being shipped over to Kirkwall. No idea who else is, but he rather dislikes the idea of leaving her behind, even if her grandfather is here. Taking time to visit before departure seems even more important than ever.]

( aleron will doubtless hear at length what gwenaëlle thinks of being sent to live in the gallows, but not quite yet - no, right now, she brightens a little at the invitation, almost in spite of herself. he might feel old around her, but she feels young, too; he is a reminder of simpler and happier things, and she's not immune to that.

growing up is terrifying. as much as she rolls her eyes and folds her arms and is very grown up - there are benefits to someone who doesn't expect her to be, just yet. and he's good company, besides. )

My poor Percy - ( persistence, the very fine palfrey mare gifted to her by a friend of her father's at home, ) - has spent so much time in the stable since we've come here, it'd be wrong of me to say no.

She could have volunteered the Winter Palace, and you mother would have hated it simply because it was your sister's suggestion. [Oh but is that grin turning ever so slightly mischievous.] Has Lady Hawke met your family? [And by family he MOSTLY MEANS YOUR SISTER, AL.] Because I imagine they might get along famously.

[She gave him a mischievous smile, even as she tilted her head up to grant him all the kissing he might desire. Or, at least until they required air again. She hummed happily against his lips before she tipped her head so she could rest it on his shoulder.]

Oh, were you looking for me? Whatever for?

She's met Mother...

[But Ravonild is a treat that will have to wait until they travel to Kaiten for wedding preparations, Maker help them all. The intense sigh that escapes Aleron shows just how much he's dreading this return "home."]

...but none of the girls yet.

[Because all of his sisters are girls to him still, as they were when he was sent off as a boy, despite being women grown and mothers besides.]

Mother adores her. [Aleron holds up a hand with a wry grin.] And not just because someone's managed to convince me to 'do the right thing by the family' and 'settle down to start a family.'

Let us correct that extended stabling then, shall we?

[He holds out an arm for the taking, to escort her to the stables like a proper lady. Even if he wishes she were still a tiny and didn't make him feel so very old, Aleron's quite capable of treating her with all due consideration.]

I'll saddle her for you so we need not wait for the hands to leave.

Nothing nearly so nice as this.

[Might as well enjoy a private moment alone while they may. Aleron kisses the top of Bethany's head and inhales slowly. Wedding decisions are important, but this impromptu snuggling is so much the better.]

Mother and the girls keep writing with inquiries for the wedding and I've no clue what they're on about. As long as we're wed at the end of the day, I'm content, but whatever your desires are is what I want.

Well I would think nothing would be as nice as your future wife's kisses.

[She dimpled up at him, before a laugh left her lips, followed by a smirk.] Oh yes. I know. I have received alllll their bribery to seeing this through.

[Looking down towards the camp, she exales.] In fact I'm not quite sure what to do with it all. I don't have a room to put it in.

[There's a long sigh from Aleron. It's more than most people ever see of his emotions, his exasperation, his long-suffering and how sometimes it wears on him. Bethany, however, is one of the very rare and few shining exceptions to his keeping absolutely everything buttoned down. As an apology, he kisses her forehead.]

I'll ask them to stop. [Not that he expects in the least to have his wishes respected, but...] They simply must be made to understand that this is not a summer gala and we've not the space to indulge in trifles.

[Yeah good luck getting through to Mama with that one, buddy.]

If you need, send some of the excess and I'll store it with me. My belongings are few.

[She leaned up to give his cheek a comforting kiss - her poor Al. His family really is a trial for such a sensible man. She gives him a little, elegant shrug, and a smile.]

Oh, don't go and make a fuss. You know as well as I do they'll just find some other way to show their affection. However I will take you up on your offer, and store some of these gowns.

[She beamed at him, before kissing him once more.] After all, in a month's or so time, it will be our room.

Our room. I do like the sound of that.

[There is very much a part of him that rather wonders if any of these 'gifts' are pretty and how Bethany might look in them. He's got no appreciation for fashion whatsoever but is given to understand Mama and his sisters all have exceptional taste. But the practical side of him recognizes that a mountain fortress is no place for lavish clothing, no matter how beautiful he's quite certain it'd look on his betrothed.]

Though, it shan't be for too long. [Might as well tell her now and get it over with.] Once we're back from Kaiten, I'm being sent to Kirkwall.

[Which uh... brings up a whole bevy of personal problems of the excessive regret variety.]

She would adore her. Especially anyone who makes you this happy. [And rest assured, this is extremely happy for Al.] I can't wait to see how much trouble Lady Hawke gets into around your sisters, though. You're going to have a handful, and while I know you can handle a lot, that? That's going to be more than you can handle.

I might not be of much help on that front. Might be laughing too hard.

Thanks, Malcolm. You're a great help.

[Was that sarcasm? Why yes it was! Proof positive that Bethany's had more of an impact on the lineface than most people realize. At least this is meant in good nature and it's followed by a hand clapped onto his fellow Seeker's shoulder.]

We'll see how much laughing happens when Ravonild sets her cap at you. She's unaccustomed to being told no.

[Of course there's the implied 'my sister is off-limits' implication behind the ribbing.]

I thought you might like that.

[She is rather wondering that herself, and whether or not she ought to pack up a few of them for their journeys. After all, she does want to make a good impression on her future in-laws, and what better way than to wear some of their gifts?

She would also ... pack some armor too though.

Especially now.]

Oh. Oh dear. [She makes a face.] Then I suppose I ought to hold off writing to your mother and get started finding ways to bribe Viscount Bran.

( it's a bit of a contrast, strangely; he treats her like a lady and she feels comforted by childhood's familiarity, tucking her hands at his elbow and falling in step as if she weren't just caught trying to wriggle into a space no one is meant to actually be in. )

I'm glad to hear you've time for it. You must have had much on your plate, lately.

I have a feeling she's going to be hearing no quite a bit. It's your wedding; she'll still have to abide by her brother's wishes. In the letter of the law, not the spirit.

[Ravonild is, of course, quite spirited in her own right.]

Of course things will be busy in the near future, but if there's anything I can do to help, I am, as always, at your disposal.

Bribe the Viscount? Why would he require a bribe?

[Whose head does he need to hit?]

[Ah but children do so enjoy small spaces to wriggle into. His own childhood is decades gone but he remembers as much. Perhaps it's a contradiction that he treats her like a lady, but thinks of her as a child. But everyone is growing up on him and it makes him feel so painfully old.]

I have, and must beg your forgiveness for neglecting you. I shant bore you with the particulars. However, I do have some news on some of what has occupied me which I hope you'll like. I'm to marry, on Summerday.

Well darling, I don't know if I told you this ...

[And here her smile is mischievous, because he knows very well who she is, where she came from.]

But you are marrying into a rather infamous Kirkwall clan. The sentence 'Hawke in Kirkwall' probably has poor Bran tearing out his rather lovely red hair.

[Her expression became more serious.]

For all the good my sister did ... well. She is still the one who let Anders live. I am uncertain of my welcome home.

I appreciate it, Malcolm. Truly.

[And in a rare show of brotherly affection, Aleron grasp's his fellow's shoulder lightly.]

Though I think you'll not thank me if I recruit you to the efforts of green or blue for the wedding clothes. Why does such a thing even matter?

[Why are the lot of them making such a thing over the color of cloth? Women.]

Nonsense. You will be my wife and you will be with me.

[Has Bethany ever truly seen Aleron with his heckles up? Because she's getting a fair hint of it now.

And for the first time ever in his life, he leverages his family.]

Because if you are prevented, Viscount Bran will find himself no longer receiving his shipments of the rose-scented milk soaps from Endridge.

[Look, he recognizes the name. Ravonild has absolutely no head for running the estate and since her husband died, Aleron's been in close contact with the steward keeping tabs on the business particulars of the family's holdings. Behind her back. But details.]

It's first about appropriate familial representation, and second about fashion. I'll admit to being partial to blue, but there's no reason they can't have a blend of the two colors. They actually go very well together, depending on the...

[The sentence fades away, a sheepish look springing to his face.] Well. Yes. Anyway. I'm sure the ladies will get it all sorted.

[Wrong. That sounds like Malcolm just volunteered because he understands this nonsense. Aleron shoves a stack of correspondence at him with a wry sort of grin.

The requests/demands are as follows:

Mama - The du Guille colors of blue and silver because she's determined that Aleron is her heir, like it or not.
Ravonild - Green and gold, the Darton colors, because he is still a part of the family and Mama can shove it.
Imogen - Consideration given to the Hawke family colors of red and black, because it is unfair to do otherwise.
Layla - Please, for the love of the Maker, do not use all of those colors and blind the company.]

They wish me to decide, though I feel it best to allow Bethany the final say. It matters not to me, so long as she is by my side at the end of the day.

...does it truly matter?

[w e l p

He looks at the stack in his hand and then back up at Aleron. He did this to himself, opening his big mouth like that.]

Ah...it does truly matter to some. Family colours being represented is traditional. Of course I'll ask Lady Hawke her opinion. [Though he'll have to stop calling her that at some point, given she's not going to be a Hawke for much longer.] Your families, ah, complicate matters some, but I am...sure we'll get it all sorted in due time.

My family is nothing if not complicated.

[It's not even being snarky, it is a statement of fact. Probably more than Aleron even realizes. He sighs quietly. He doesn't remember all this headache from his first marriage, but then Mama and Mirielle's mother had made all the decisions for them.]

Bethany is worth the effort. I shan't shirk my responsibility in this, once I understand it better. But I confess I haven't the slightest what that should be.

[Her entire expression softened at that, and she had to admit that her future husband? With his hackles up? Was very ... attractive.

Of course, that last bit just made her blink, then laugh.]

You're joking! [A moment.] Wait, you're not joking? He really gets rose-scented milk soaps?

[This is Aleron. Does he ever joke? Well, does it ever joke and it actually comes off well and humorous? Not really.]

I'm quite serious. There is a limited supply of the luxury soaps that the estate can produce in a year and the buyers are kept informed of the current supply available.

[There we have it. The man was always meant for estate management and never for something akin to a soldier's life.]

Most of our sales are to select noble buyers and certain wealthy merchants in Antiva. Demand is high and they always command a premium price. [A small shrug.] The income keeps Ravonild in her ridiculous supply of dresses, though I doubt she realizes it.

What, that woman?

( what an incredible reaction; she has the grace to catch herself and course-correct, if slightly later than might have been ideal. )

Well - congratulations.

( it's hard for it not to feel sudden, but it isn't as if she hadn't been - she'd been imagining a great many things that won't happen now, just as fast, elsewhere. and it has been a long time; she's always thought he should live his life.

if the warden makes him happy, she supposes, scrutinising him for happiness. )

[He doesn't usually ... but Bethany supposes there is a first time for everything.

Except not now, because this really is about rose-scented milk soaps. She blinks at him for a moment, because it is a marvel he can remember All That from those few letters he gets from his sister's stewards.

After a moment, one corner of her mouth lifted, then the other, and she let out a laugh.]

Imagine! The fate of the world rests on fine smelling soaps. This sounds like something Varric would write.

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[OPEN] "At last, the Light shall shine..."

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ALL THE SMUSH

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Re: ALL THE SMUSH

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