Thanks to mutive and witchy bee, for beta reading.

-o-

Anora tapped the tips of her fingers against her arm irritably. When she had suggested promoting Sighard as Teryn, she had not considered that this would make his son Oswynn the new Bann of Dragon's Peak. And that Oswynn would then have to be in Dragon's Peak. That was wonderful for him, of course, but Oswynn had been a landless dandy for many years, and Anora had found him useful, on occasion. For example, he loved parties, and would always help her plan them.

Anora hated parties.

Seating arrangements were the worst, especially in a country that had just emerged from a civil war. Everybody had a grudge against someone, and it was all but impossible to keep track of them all, yet now they all had to get together and celebrate Feastday as if everything were hugs and puppies.

"Who do we have sitting next to Bann Alfstanna?" Anora asked, as she reclined on her chaise and stared crossly at the ceiling.

Erlina checked the sheet of vellum in her hand. "Lady Habren," she said, scanning it. "Bryland's daughter."

Anora curled her fingers and then uncurled them, her knuckles cracking. An ugly habit she tried to avoid, but sometimes she couldn't help herself. "That won't do at all," she muttered. "Alfstanna is a foulmouthed tomboy, and Habren is a spoiled snot of a girl." She closed her eyes. "Just because they are both female doesn't mean they have anything in common. Who put this list together?"

Erlina cleared her throat. "Is that a rhetorical question? Because you just—"

"I know I did, Erlina, but Maker, what was I thinking? Ugh!" She rubbed her temples with her hands in small circular motions, feeling the warmth spreading as she calmed herself. "Could I trouble you for a glass of that whiskey?"

Erlina scowled at her. "How about some tea?"

"Oh, right. My head is all turned around." Anora sighed and looked out the window. "Tea would be lovely."

As her handmaid scampered out, Anora looked out at the gardens and knew it was not actually Oswynn's fault. It was Alistair's fault. Putting together a guest list, while not one of her favorite tasks in the world, was certainly within her faculty, under normal circumstances. Alistair was making everything very unnormal... er, abnormal. Anora shook her head.

Erlina returned with a glass, and Anora sipped it gratefully. The honey-colored beverage burned just a little bit as it went down, but it tasted rich and sweet, and she blew into it. Steam clouded her eyes.

"Where did you want to put Eamon?" Erlina asked.

"Next to the King, I suppose," she said. Erlina looked surprised, and Anora shrugged. "Alistair seems to want him there, for some reason. It doesn't matter. I'll be on the other side."

"I fully agree," Erlina said. "I didn't think you did, though."

Anora finished her drink and set the mug down on the floor. "Burn it all," she said. "Why don't we just make it a buffet? Everyone can seat themselves. I really don't want to do this."

"That sounds perfectly wonderful," Erlina said. She gripped the vellum in her fingers and ripped it neatly in two. "Oh, but you do still have to choose the appetizers," she said. "The quality of your cheese platter can make or break a party."

Anora laughed. "My goodness," she said. "A cheese emergency. Alistair will be so disappointed to have missed it." Erlina stared at her blankly, and Anora fell silent. She looked up at the ceiling.

There was something very wrong with her, she thought.

-o-

The King was gone for more than a month. Reports filtered back from Amaranthine of an attack on Vigil's Keep, of trouble on the Pilgrim's Path, and Anora began to worry. She became angry with herself for worrying, and angry with Alistair for making her worry, and angry especially at the Orlesians, because she thought they had probably earned it.

When Erlina found her one afternoon, her eyes urgent, Anora bit her lip and hoped it was good news. Her handmaid curtsied.

"Your Majesty," Erlina said, "The King has returned. He's just arrived at the gates."

"Thank the Maker!" Anora said, and let out a long breath. Erlina cocked an eyebrow at her, but Anora ignored this, waving her hand. "Tell him I will receive him in the courtyard, if he pleases."

Anora made her way to a bench in the courtyard and sat down. She arranged her skirts around her, gathering the folds of silk, and then smoothed her hair with her hands. It fell loose down her back. She sighed. Minutes passed, and more minutes passed, and she looked up at the sky. Perhaps she had been too ambiguous, she thought. She hadn't actually insisted that he see her. Anora stood up to leave.

At that moment, the King arrived.

Alistair entered the courtyard, and she held her breath. He had changed out of his armor into civilian clothing, she noticed, which was perhaps why he had taken so long. Anora allowed that this had been considerate of him, as his armor was probably rank from travel. He walked towards her slowly, his expression unreadable.

"Welcome home," she said, when he was close enough to hear her. Anora curtsied.

"Thank you," he said. They stared at each other.

Anora took a step closer to him. "We had reports of trouble in the north," she said. "I was concerned."

She saw shadows in Alistair's eyes and took another careful step. "It was horrible," he said. "Our party was attacked on the way up by a pack of genlocks, and an ogre. No fatalities, thankfully, but two of my guards were badly injured. I had to leave them behind at an inn." He shook his head. "They weren't infected, though. They should recover."

"That's unfortunate," she said carefully, "but I wouldn't call it horrible...?"

"There's more." Alistair swallowed, and she saw his throat catch. She reached out tentatively to touch him, and he took her hand and squeezed her fingers. "There's a darkspawn emissary that can talk, and he organized a massive assault on the Keep." He looked down at the ground. "All the Orlesian Wardens are dead, Anora. It was a massacre."

"Maker's Blood!"

"I haven't seen anything like that since..." Alistair's voice trailed off, and he lifted his head. His eyes met hers.

"Ostagar," she supplied.

Alistair nodded. Anora felt his thumb move across her palm, the callouses scratching her skin. He took a deep breath. "Luckily the new Commander hadn't arrived yet," he said, "and was not harmed in the attack."

"At least there's that," she said, exhaling. "Did you meet him?"

"Her, actually," Alistair said. "An elven ranger named Sidona Andras. She's been a Warden for about a decade, before that I think she was a hunter in one of the border towns. Sort of soft spoken, dark eyes." Anora looked at him curiously, and he laughed. "Don't worry, I managed to control myself."

Anora looked away. "I really don't care."

"You've mentioned." Alistair moved closer to her, so that her arm hung more comfortably at her side. Her shoulders relaxed. "Sidona seems capable enough," he said. "She's Orlesian, but I think she's spent a fair amount of time among Fereldans. She doesn't even have an accent." He looked up at the sky and sighed. "It will take a while, but I think she can put the Wardens back together. She's already got a few new recruits." He smiled at her then, and his hazel eyes twinkled. "Including Oghren. You'll be happy to learn he survived."

"I... think I am," Anora said, laughing a little.

Alistair smiled weakly, and his eyes had a question in them. There was a question flitting around in her mind, too. Anora knew it was a week to Amaranthine. She could allow for two if there were problems on the Pilgrim's Path, but no more than that. Alistair was waiting for her, and she sighed.

"You were gone a long time," she said.

Alistair looked at his feet. "I also went to Highever," he said, dropping her hand. "To make a memorial for Duncan."

Anora nodded. Ghosts followed them everywhere, and she watched him try to put this one to rest. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked up at her. "On the way in, we rode past the Orlesian Embassy," he said. "I see you've commissioned a statue of your father there."

"Yes." Anora chewed her lip. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you first."

Alistair frowned, and he pulled a long breath through his teeth. "The location wouldn't have been my first choice," he said, musing, "but maybe it's a good reminder. You know, of how we beat them once and we could do it again. Wouldn't want them thinking that giving Andras the Arling was some sort of invitation." He shrugged. "If it becomes a problem, we can have it moved."

Anora blinked. She remembered Alistair's wrath at the Landsmeet, and the grim satisfaction on his face when Loghain had died. Briefly, she wondered if his current nonchalance was a ruse, but it seemed unlikely. Alistair was a terrible liar. She thought it might be a good time to tell him.

"I'm pregnant," she said.

Alistair's eyes widened exactly as wide as she had known that they would. "You're kidding," he said.

"Why, yes," she said, rolling her eyes. "Ha ha. What a droll joke I've made."

"Sorry." His face colored, and he shifted from foot to foot. Anora rocked back on her heels, watching him. Alistair cleared his throat and managed a quick smile. "Well, this is good, right?"

"Yes," she said. Anora crossed her arms under her breasts. "Although it's a bit overwhelming. I've never done anything like this before."

Alistair's eyes softened. "You don't have to do it alone," he said.

Anora huffed, and she scowled at him. None of this had happened the way she had expected. She wrinkled her nose and said, "I may have missed you."

"Huh. Wait, really?" He was close enough that she could smell the soap on his fresh clothing. Anora shrugged. Alistair cocked his head to the side and looked at her, reflecting, before he shook his head and smiled again. "Well, I guess I missed you, too, then."

Alistair moved a little closer, and for a moment he seemed unsure of what to do. Anora unfolded her arms. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, his thumb behind her right ear, and leaned towards her.

His lips parted slightly as he kissed her before he started to move away. She threaded her hands under his arms and drew him back, dropping her head and enjoying his closeness. Her body relaxed against his. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him, and she breathed him in.

"I don't love you, though," she said, into his chest. Anora pulled away slightly and lifted her chin. "Just so we're clear."

Alistair nodded. "Crystal," he said. His eyes fell to her stomach, contemplating its mysteries, before returning to her face. He gave her another quick kiss, grinned and added, "I'm not that fond of you, myself."

Anora laughed. He really was a terrible liar, but then, she probably hadn't sounded all that convincing, either.

-o-

The end.

Thanks to everyone who read this, for real. I'm in awe of you.

ETA: A few people requested an epilogue/sequel, so I wrote one, because that seemed like a pretty swell idea. It's called Pride and Parity and it's available in my profile if you are interested.