It was two weeks after Alistair's visit to Kal'Hirol with the children. Cybele had returned to the forest with Morrigan and Xandros, following a small family party to celebrate her birthday (a mite early, but no one complained about that. Certainly not Cybele!). Promises of visits in the spring had been exchanged between Alistair and Morrigan, and the two little girls had clung together, crying, clearly feeling that spring was a lifetime away.

Anders and Captain Maverlies had left to take Woolsey back to Weisshaupt. Thora hoped her dear friend would find happiness along the way, and that Maverlies' pride and adherence to duty would bend enough for Anders to see how the Captain felt about him.

Thora and Alistair and the children were adjusting to the new routines fairly well. Deciding how to divide their time between palace and keep was going to be a continued challenge, that much was obvious. They'd spent just over a week together at the Vigil before Alistair was called back to the capitol. Thora and the children had accompanied him to the city, and Oghren was in charge at the Vigil, a new seriousness in his demeanor. The children found adjusting to life as a family somewhat more comfortable now that they were in Denerim—Duncan was happier being able to play lord of the manor and show his sister around than he had been trying to find his way around the Vigil, and Anawyn was excited to be allowed to visit the city and the palace after so many years of pining to be able to go. Thora had brought piles of overdue paperwork along and relished the quiet days while Alistair worked, almost as much as she enjoyed watching him be the King he had become.

But this, she reflected, this just sitting here quietly with him, was the best part. The nighttimes, when the children were in bed, as Alistair worked at his desk and Thora lounged in a chair by the fire, reading or working; the simple togetherness they had been denied for so long.

She turned in the chair so that her back was against one arm, her legs dangling over the other, and flipped a page in her book. It was Brother Genitivi's latest, The Temple of Andraste: An Archaeological History. He'd certainly found a lot to say about a temple he hadn't even been able to explore, Thora thought. This was at least the sixth book he'd written based on his experiences in Haven. Truthfully, Thora was only skimming the book. The rest of her attention was focused on watching Alistair, whose blond head was bent over his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Alistair snuck a sideways look at Thora. She was so beautiful tucked into his chair like that, it was hard to believe she was really here and not just another fantasy. He'd imagined nights like this so many times. Surreptitiously, he patted his pocket. The small stone box with the ring in it still lay there, waiting for him to work up the courage to ask her. She was sure to have objections, sure to say 'no' automatically. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that she would turn him down, for perfectly good, logical reasons. Perhaps it was foolish of him to even have considered it, really. He just wanted the chance to stand up next to her and tell the whole world that he loved her, and only her. As King, though, did he have that right? It was one thing to live with her, to openly be her lover, but marriage … that was another consideration entirely, as his Council had reminded him just that morning. And of course, he'd been equally foolish to have mentioned it to the children. Duncan had forgotten all about it, but Anawyn hadn't, and her brown eyes asked him insistently every time she saw him—have you asked her yet? Anawyn had waited her whole life for this, and now Alistair was failing her because he was afraid of a two-letter word.

He bit back a sigh, mentally chastising himself. Here he was, with her, the way he'd always wanted, and he was moping because he wanted more?

Thora was concerned by Alistair's sudden fit of the fidgets. She closed the book, looking at him thoughtfully over the top. Bits and pieces of rumors she'd been hearing around the palace came together in her mind, and she winced, thinking she understood his discomfort.

Her voice interrupted his attempt to focus on his paperwork. "What happened at the Council meeting this morning?"

Alistair looked up. "The usual," he said, shrugging. "Everybody thinks their particular group is getting the shaft while all the others get rich off their labor. Politics."

"Really. Nothing more unusual than that?"

So she had heard. Alistair scowled, staring down at the papers in front of him. "They think I should get married again."

The words hung in the air between them, the elephant in the room finally visible, and there was a silence as they each examined it from every angle.

At last, Alistair said, "They're not wrong." Thora's eyes caught his, hers wide and startled. "An unmarried king is just a problem waiting to happen. All the unmarried women of this kingdom—and all the other kingdoms, for that matter—thrown at his head, everyone holding their breath to see which politically expedient match he's going to make. There's the backstabbing, the intrigue, the endless jockeying for position … and that's just their fathers." He grinned at his own attempted joke, but got no smile from Thora in return.

"I'm aware of the problems," she said. "You should have seen the pressures my father got after my mother died."

The air was thick between them. At last Alistair heaved a painful sigh. "So …" he said, not able to say anything further. It was the right time to ask, but she didn't look receptive. Not at all. And the odds were that she would agree with his Council that a dwarf didn't make a suitable wife and that he ought to find—

"Marry me."

Alistair's head snapped up, and he stared at her. "What did you say?" he asked in a whisper.

Thora's eyes filled with tears. "I said marry me, Alistair. Maybe I—it's probably the worst idea ever, but I don't have to be Queen, I can just be your consort, and it would take away the political concerns because you wouldn't be single, and I … I just can't watch you with someone else," she said, her chin quivering with the effort of keeping her sobs at bay. "I can't!"

And then Alistair was kneeling next to the chair, gathering her into his strong arms. "Tell me you meant that," he whispered into her hair.

She clung to his shirt. "I'm sorry, that must make it so much harder for you. I'll take it back—"

"Don't you dare!" he said fiercely. He sat back on his haunches, fumbling in his pocket, and Thora's eyes widened when she saw the small box. "I've had this for weeks, I ordered it as soon as we got back to Denerim and got that whole mess with Dorothea taken care of. I've been carrying it around because you're so sodding stubborn I was sure you'd say no."

Thora sniffled, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes. "Is there a question there that I missed?" she said. She had to remind herself to breathe.

"Wait," he said. He arranged her so that she was sitting forward in the chair, then went down on one knee before her, taking her tiny hand in his. "Thora, since the day I met you, you have been my leader, my comrade-in-arms, my partner, and my lover. Will you do me the very great honor of adding wife to that list?"

Thora was nodding before he got halfway through. "Yes, please," she sobbed, throwing herself into his arms.

Alistair was on the verge of asking if she meant it when he realized what a stupid question that would be at this point. Instead he kissed her, feeling her arms wind around his neck and her body press itself against his. He pulled her closer, one hand caressing her back. He was about to use the other to start opening her shirt when he realized he still held the ring box in his hand. He pulled back, panting. "Hang on."

She made a small protesting noise in the back of her throat, rubbing herself against the hard bulge in his pants, and Alistair groaned.

"Wait, love," he said, picking her up off his lap. "First things first." He stroked her hair, trying to calm himself for a moment. Then he opened the box, showing her the ring.

"It's perfect," Thora said softly.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "It's not a diamond, I know, but it's—well, it's you." He removed the ring from the box so she could see it better—a simple silver band with a single fire opal embedded into it. "Such a beautiful stone, so smooth and pretty, but with such fire within. That's you, my love."

"You're the only person who's ever seen me that way," she said, watching him slide the ring onto her finger. "Your Council isn't going to be happy."

"They will when they get used to the idea," he said. He stood up, lifting her into his arms. "Besides, who cares what they think? I have better things to worry about right now."

"Like what?"

"Like getting you out of these clothes," he said, grinning at her. He pushed open the door leading into his—their—bedchamber, carrying her to the bed. She moved to strip his shirt off him, but he held her hands at her sides. "My turn first." He reached for the hem of her tunic, drawing it slowly up and over her head. He bent, kissing her stomach and moving his mouth up until he could tease one nipple through the fabric covering it. Thora sighed, tangling her fingers in his hair to hold him to her. Alistair wrapped his arms around her, one hand reaching for the laces of her breastband. Soon the piece of fabric was removed, flung somewhere behind him, and his mouth was on her bare breasts.

Thora closed her eyes, feeling his mouth move lower as his hands slowly pushed down her leggings. When she was naked, Alistair laid her back across the bed, covering her body with his. Thora ran her hands possessively over his broad back. "My turn yet?"

He growled deep in his throat, kissing her, his hands holding her head still as his tongue plundered her mouth. Thora's hands moved over his back and sides to find his erection, stroking the hard shaft through his pants. His breath hitched, sending a spike of desire through her.

"My turn," Thora said with satisfaction. She pushed at his shoulders until he sat back, and then her hands went for his belt, dexterously working the buckle. "Pants and smalls off," she ordered.

"Aye, ser," Alistair chuckled, not at all averse to removing the constricting items of clothing. He pulled his shirt off, as well. Thora sighed, her body reacting to the sight of his sculpted muscles and the proud erection jutting out at her. Pulling him back down onto the bed, she knelt at his side, her tongue starting at his collarbones and moving down over his chest and stomach to trace patterns along his length. Alistair moaned, thrusting against her teasing tongue, his hands reaching for her head.

Thora laughed, evading his hands and teasing him with little touches of her mouth. Finally Alistair moved, sitting up and drawing her into his lap. Thora rubbed herself against his length, catching her breath at the pleasure of it. Slowly she lowered herself onto him, her eyes meeting his, watching his eyelids flutter closed. She moved then, rocking against him, whimpering as her hardened nipples brushed against his chest. Alistair's breathing grew harsh as his climax drew close, and Thora pressed harder against him, the tension spiraling tighter until finally it burst and she cried out, spasming against him, as Alistair thrust up into her with a triumphant shout.

They collapsed on the bed together. Alistair reached out, taking her hand in his, running his fingers over the smooth metal of her ring. "You are my dreams come true," he whispered.

"Oh, really?" Thora grinned at him. "Because I seem to recall you dreaming of Goldanna's mince pies."

He pounced then, rolling her over and tickling her, reveling in the sound of her shrieks of laughter beneath him. Soon enough the tickling turned to kissing and the kissing turned to lovemaking and at last the King of Ferelden and the Warden Commander drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to see more of Alistair and Thora's adventures, check out the prequels to this story, "The Hand of Fate" and "No Armor Against Fate", the sequel, "Joined Fates", and a collection of scenes from their lives bundled together as "Pieces of Fate".