This the complete story of Queen Anora and Prince Michael Cousland, and their rocky relationship as they try to negotiate politics, drama and even romance in an arranged marriage.

Parts of this story has been released as separate shorter stories. Chapters 1-6 where originally published as "Luck and Destiny" and are largely unchanged. Chapters 7-12 where orginally published as "A Rose among Thorns" with some editing to the last chapter. Chapters 15-23 were originally released as "For the honor of the Queen."

Chapter 1. Post Coronation

The large throne room in Denerim was filled with nobles and dignitaries. Inside this grand hall it was almost possible to forget the signs carnage and destruction that had still not been removed from the ravaged city. Ferelden had survived the storm of a Blight, and a new Queen had been crowned. The centre of attention was not the Queen however, but her betrothed, Michael Cousland, the hero and savior of Ferelden. Noblemen, guards and servants all wanted to congratulate him, talk to him, touch him or just catch a glimpse of him.

It was more than anything else his day of glory. From the ashes of his family's destruction he stood before them, a triumphant, conquering hero. The bold knight who had received the Queen's hand in marriage as reward. He wished with all his weary heart that the day would soon be over. He felt too empty and lonely to be able to enjoy any of it.

Michael wryly admitted that he was actually grateful for Anora's insistence that he should appear in full battle armor at the Coronation. However cumbersome the massive plates of dragon bone were, they felt like an extra barrier from the crowd surrounding him. A shell to retreat within.

He saw Fergus smiling in his direction. Of all the things that had happened today, seeing his brother again was the one thing that had really made him happy. All this time he had felt the duty as the last living Cousland as an almost crushing burden. It wasn't until his parents death that he had truly come to appreciate what it meant to have all those traditions rest on his shoulders. That it was up to him and him alone now, to carry the family name. The thought that Fergus was still there, to share that burden with him, meant more than any friendship in the world.

He smiled back at Fergus. He felt the urge to talk some more to him, but he didn't quite knew what to say. As happy as he was, he also felt a distance between them. He had yet to figure out how to pick up their relationship after everything that happened to him. He felt so different from the hopeful reckless man he had been a year ago. Maybe Fergus own losses had changed him too.

Not far from Fergus, he saw Loghain standing with a slightly bored look. In the short time he had come to know the man he had developed a certain respect for him and he even believed it was mutual, but he never stopped feeling awkward with Loghain, not to mention the fact that he soon would be his father in law. Michael had seen how Anora seemed to make a point of ignoring him the entire ceremony. Loghain seemed almost like an anachronism to Michael, as if he was out of place and belonged to a previous era.

Michael saw a smiling Leliana standing in a circle of admirers. Retelling the tale of their adventure, and doubtlessly adding new things every time. Since his betrothal to Queen Anora, the redhead rogue had treated him as if their relationship only had been a minor flirt, hardly worth mentioning. He was sure it had been more than that, even if the right moment never had seemed to come for them, or the right word never had been spoken. He was being childish and he knew it. He was the one who had finally doomed whatever their relationship might have become, when he proposed to the Queen, but some part of him still resented that she had accepted it so lightly.

While Michael was lost in thoughts, Queen Anora regarded him from her corner, near one of the huge bonfires that warmed the hall. Not for the first time she wondered if it had been a terrible mistake to accept his bold proposal. She had been convinced that Michael would force her into marrying Maric's bastard son, to placate Eamon. She was even half-resigned to it, when he had surprised her with his offer. Her instinct had been to try and talk him out of it, but to have the such a hero, and a Cousland at that, by her side seemed the ideal solution to solidify her reign. She had also been only too aware of Arl Eamon's schemes to dare refuse him.

She had finally reached the goal of her ambition. She was the ruling Queen of Fereldan. She would never again be over shadowed by her father or Cailan again. Instead however she had given her hand to this Hero of Fereldan, as she had herself had named him. Michael Cousland, the man who had led the country's armies to victory against the Blight. The Warden hero who even had slain the Archdemon and lived. She was still trying to determine who he really was, but what she had seen so far was enough to cause her concern.

Anora found herself wondering what her future husband really wanted from their alliance. A title and influence, that was obvious, but what else? She had long since realized that a Queen had no business letting herself be ruled by romantic fancy, but that didn't mean she couldn't allow herself to hope that he might be more a pleasant partner than Cailan. She still knew nothing of his true ambition though. Was he content to be her consort or did he aim higher. She had after all ruled Fereldan in all but name, during Cailan's reign. Did he harbor similar thoughts?

She couldn't help but compare him to her father. His massive armor was made of dull grey dragon bone and spoke of business rather than royal finery, just like her father's. Not like the gold and silverite plated suits Maric and Cailan had sported. He was tall and imposing. His raven hair was slightly unruly and the fringe just bit too long. He had the same unidentifiable aura of command her father had, made only more attractive in him by the fact that he often seemed unaware of it. He would be a difficult ally to control at best, she realized, and at worst a formidable enemy.

In the meantime Michael turned to look at Anora. She had her blonde hair carefully braided and rolled into two austere buns. Even alone in a corner of the hall she was beautiful and regal he thought, but she also looked oddly lonely and almost a little lost. When he watched her, he wondered why she seemed to avoid the celebrations. It was her triumph as much as his, and yet she seemed to shy away from the crowd. Not for the first time did he wonder what life as her husband would be.

He remembered the day in Denerim when he had worked up the nerve to ask for her hand in marriage. It had seemed so logical then. It was obvious that Alistair was frightened by Eamon's insistence that he should assume the Crown and he had probably been a bit scared of the Queen too. He himself had felt the burden of his Cousland heritage and realized that a bond with the Queen could maybe in one move make up for all the terrible things that had happened to his family.

In truth Anora's reputation as a determined and efficient ruler had only made the proposal seem more attractive then. For over a year now he had felt the crushing burden of authority and responsibility. He had felt just relief at the thought of letting her assume responsibilities he was weary of.

The unbidden image of Alistair in his mind brought bile to his throat. Alistair had in the short span he had known him become the sort of childhood best friend he had never had, or so he had believed. But in the final confrontation he had realized that he had never really known the man. Alistair had abandoned him, the war and everything they had strived for, when Michael had been pushed to let Loghain become a Grey Warden by Riordan.

How could things have possibly come to that? How could their bond have been broken over the fate of the tortured figure of Loghain? He still could not see how he could have acted differently, but neither could he really fault Alistair. He couldn't make up his mind if Alistair had betrayed him, or if he had betrayed Alistair. All he knew was that it had left an open wound in his soul, festering with doubt and regret.

He suddenly realized that Anora had noticed him and was looking back at him. He heaved a sigh. Even if he wanted to retreat from the celebrations he knew he ought to talk to her. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and made his way past the people surrounding him and walked across the stones of the hall towards her. Anora waited for him straight and still.

"Allow me to offer you my personal gratulations Warden," she said as she acknowledged him with the a slight graceful curtsey. Her voice was neutral and business like.
"I must admit that while I did not share my father's pessimism regarding the Grey Wardens, I had my doubts that so small a number of you could be victorious. Yet... here you are." Her voice trailed off.

For moment the silence between them grew awkward. Michael relived the final battle in his head again. The desperate charge, the street battles, Riordan's mad leap to his death and the final dreadful fight against the Archdemon. It didn't quite seem real to him, more like a bad dream.

"We... we were lucky," he said and realized he meant it.

"The Maker smiles upon you, or so they are saying," Anora replied, still maintaining her composure. "Luck and destiny are two branches of the same tree."

He looked at her silently. He suddenly realized that her feelings may not be so different from his own. She had lost a great deal to achieve this victory too. Did she wonder why her father had betrayed her, or indeed if she had betrayed him? The silence between them dragged on and he felt his embarrassment grow.

"At any rate, I understand that preparations are underway for our wedding," Anora suddenly said, stumbling a little on the words. "Are you nervous?" she asked him almost shyly.

Michael looked quizzically at her. She had sounded so unlike the woman he had come to expect. He knew her as a regal Queen and formidable politician. He hadn't quite been able to picture her as a nervous bride. Was he nervous? He had thought he had long since resigned himself to the inevitable, but now he realized that Anora still could make him feel nervous and awkward.

"Perhaps a little," he admitted.

"Good," Anora said and smiled in relief. "I feel the same. You are quite... intimidating you know."
The woman looked almost bashful as she said it, he thought. She found him intimidating? If anything, he was a bit in awe of her.

"I guess that makes two of us then," he answered her smiling. "You are quite formidable yourself." Anora giggled, but then her face sobered.

He wanted desperately to say something before this moment passed, but he felt drained and almost numbed by everything that had passed in the last few days.

"I guess we ought to make the best of things together now, you and I, he said finally."

"I suppose so, she answered him tonelessly."

For a moment she avoided his gaze, but then she suddenly composed herself and was all business again.

"We will need to speak more of the role you wish to play. As hero of Ferelden, there are many opportunities, she said. But that can wait. For now enjoy the celebration. We can speak further when the day is done."

Michael realized that the conversation was over and retreated down to the revelry below. He took a deep breath and prepared to smile yet some more and to be displayed to the eager crowd outside.

Anora watched Michael as he made his way through the celebrants below. He had a disarming demeanor that somehow made it so easy to confide in him, she thought. She had not meant to admit any of her thoughts about the wedding to him, and yet somehow he had made seem a natural thing to do. Nor did he seem afraid to bare similar thoughts to her. She didn't know what to make of him. Anora continued to look at him all the way until he had passed out through the huge doors.