A/N: We've had the marriage, now for some politics. ;-)

For anyone who hasn't seen it yet: Aedan and Anora's wedding night has been posted as a separate story, 'Political Bedmates'. It has an M rating and can be found under my profile. I've also replaced the cover image for APM with a picture created using the 'Lord of the Rings Scene Maker' by Azalea's Dolls / Doll Divine.

Chapter 14

Aedan woke to a bed that was warm but disappointingly empty. When he emerged from the chamber, bleary-eyed, one of the maids informed him that the Queen had already bathed, dressed and returned to the Palace for breakfast. "Is it so late?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, ser, only an hour or so since sunrise. But Her Majesty likes to rise early."

"Does she, indeed?" He found it hard to hide his disappointment. He knew that a queen's busy schedule left little time for leisure, but he'd hoped that on this of all mornings, she might be willing to let it slide a little. With the aid of the servants, he washed and dressed as quickly as possible – those satins and velvets still felt strange against his skin, after months of coarse wools and linens – and set out for the palace to join his wife at breakfast.

He found Anora in her private parlour, a small but comfortable room decorated with carved wooden statues and yet more of her beloved books. The queen was seated at a circular table laid for two, while Erlina took her own meal at a smaller table in the corner. Adalla was curled up by the fireside, nibbling at some food scraps from the kitchen. Aedan noted with amusement that the mabari was becoming more like her mistress every day; she'd developed a haughty glare worthy of the queen herself, and submitted to regular baths with only the mildest of protests. For the wedding ceremony the day before, she'd even permitted Anora to tie a bow around her neck.

Anora herself looked as she always did, lovely and unflappable, without a hair out of place. Somehow it made his memories of her the night before – writhing beneath him, whimpering, her tangled hair strewn over the pillow – all the sweeter. She'd been far more responsive, more passionate, than her icy reputation would suggest. Cailan must have been mad, he thought – the most beautiful woman in Ferelden in his bed, and he'd made no effort to keep her there?

Seeing him standing in the doorway, Erlina hastened to her feet and slipped out of the room to give him and Anora some privacy. He leaned against the doorframe, regarding his wife with arms folded. "You might have waited for me, you know."

"I would have roused you earlier," she said, "but you were sleeping like a baby. I didn't have the heart to wake you."

Aedan couldn't think of a witty retort, so contented himself with a glare. Turning away, he went to the sideboard and piled as much food as he could manage onto his plate, then sat down opposite her at the table. As Anora daintily spread a piece of bread with honey, he slathered several slices with butter and tucked into his own meal with gusto, washing down the bread, cold beef and cheese with some weak ale.

"So," he said, once he'd taken the edge of his hunger. "Did you enjoy last night?" He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

She smiled. "Fishing for compliments, are you? Very well, I'll indulge you. Yes, I did enjoy our wedding night." She tilted her head, regarding him with a slightly quizzical look. "Did you?"

He looked at her as if she were mad. "How could I not?"

"Cailan never seemed especially satisfied with me," she said matter-of-factly. "At least, I assumed that was why he took mistresses. I did try to suggest some things, but he was not very adventurous in bed… at least not with me."

Aedan was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Cailan must have been as useless in bed as he was on the throne. Something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression, as Anora quickly spoke up in her first husband's defence. "It was difficult for both of us. We'd been raised almost as brother and sister since I was seven years old. Making the transition to husband and wife was… not easy."

Aedan grunted, not trusting himself to reply. He cast around for a change of subject, but Anora got there first. "Did you speak to the Empress Celene last night?"

"Briefly, yes."

"What did you think of her?"

Her tone was so casual that Aedan was instantly suspicious. He leaned back in his chair with a grin, opting for deliberate provocation. "She's very beautiful, isn't she?"

Her eyes narrowed. "That was not what I meant."

"Wasn't it?" When she refused to rise to the bait, he shrugged his shoulders. "She's a charming woman, but rather too flamboyant for my tastes. Of course, it didn't help that my court Orlesian is more than a little rusty. I couldn't say too much for fear of making an embarrassing mistake."

"Oh?" For a moment her eyes gleamed with amusement. "I wonder if she realised, or if she thought you were merely being cautious?

"I imagine she must have realised. She's no fool, that's for certain."

"Did she say anything of substance?"

"Not really. She asked me a few questions about the Blight and the archdemon, offered her congratulations on my marriage and condolences on my parents' deaths." His jaw tightened at the memory. Anora looked up sharply from her plate.

"Ah," she said softly. "So she tried the sympathy trick with you, did she?"

"Probably, though I suppose it might have been genuine. She did know my father, after all – they met last year when the king dispatched him to Val Royeaux." He noticed the queen's slight frown. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I was just… remembering something. I will tell you later."

Aedan shrugged and settled down to his meal, but let his gaze linger on his wife. Anora was poring over a list of names by her plate, taking care not to spill any crumbs or drops of honey on the vellum. "So who is to have Gwaren?" he asked at last, wishing he'd had more time to catch up on the political situation since returning from Highever.

She opened her mouth to reply, and then paused. "What do you think?" she said at last. "If you are to be my Chancellor, you'll need to get accustomed to offering political advice."

"Hmph." Aedan tapped his knife against his plate. "Well… there are no very obvious candidates that I can see. Unless you're willing to let bygones be bygones, and give it to Eamon?" he added with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. "No, our helpful friend the Arl will not be getting Gwaren. As a matter of fact –" her lips curved into a faint smile – "I have Plans for Eamon."

"Oh?"

"I'll explain later. Go on."

"Arl Bryland was an enemy of your father," Aedan continued in between mouthfuls, "and I imagine that Sighard is not your best friend at present. Alfstanna would never leave Waking Sea. Wulff would do well, but he's getting old, and he has no heir since his sons were killed." He mulled it over for a few moments. "Unless you have someone utterly unexpected in mind, I suppose it ought to be Wulff."

"My thoughts exactly. As you point out, there is no perfect choice, but Wulff is perhaps the least bad. I've spoken to him on the matter already." She sipped her tea. "He will have to remarry, of course, and try to sire more heirs to secure the succession."

"And for Denerim?"

"Sighard. As you've guessed, he's still very angry about his son, and I need to placate him." Anora laced her fingers together around her teacup. "Not that I mind. He's a good man, and he spoke against… my father's actions… at the Landsmeet. I hope we may see less rioting in the Alienage under his leadership."

My father's actions meaning the selling of several dozen elves into slavery, Aedan thought, unable to keep a slightly sour expression from his face. He turned his attention back to his plate to avoid having to answer, when a sudden, disturbing thought occurred to him. "What about Vaughan?"

"Vaughan… Kendells, you mean? He was killed in the first elven uprising, just before Ostagar."

Aedan's stomach seemed to flip over; suddenly he had very little appetite left. He set down his fork and studied his wife's face, trying to gauge whether or not she was serious. "You mean that nobody told you?" he said at last. "When I came to rescue you from Howe's estate, I found Vaughan imprisoned in the dungeons. Alive."

Now it was Anora's turn to pause, the teacup poised halfway to her mouth, her forehead creasing into a deep frown. "Alive?" she said eventually. "Are you certain?"

"Quite certain. I'd know the little rat anywhere." Aedan grimaced. "He was ranting and demanding to be released, but I didn't care for his tone, so I left him for the soldiers to mop up."

"And you never thought to mention this?"

"I did have rather a lot of other things on my mind at the time, Anora! By the time I'd come round after Cauthrien's goons beat me senseless, and battled my way out of Fort Drakon, I'd forgotten that Vaughan Kendells ever existed." He sighed. "I take it this news doesn't exactly fill you with joy?"

"It certainly doesn't," she said fervently. "Vaughan is the worst heir to the arling I can possibly imagine. He – well, never mind that now. What was he doing in the dungeon?"

"Apparently Howe locked him up and told everyone he was dead, so that he could take over the arling. Why he didn't just kill him, I have no idea." Aedan shook his head. "Much as I loath Howe, I can't say I'd have missed Vaughan either."

"No love lost between you two, I take it?"

"None whatsoever. The last time he came to Highever, I gave him a dunking in the river after he wouldn't stop harassing our servants." His lip curled in disgust. "Since then, it seems he's graduated to rape and murder. At least if some of the Alienage elves are to be believed."

"From what I know of Vaughan, that certainly wouldn't surprise me." She pursed her lips, slowly shaking her head. "Are there witnesses?"

"Well, apparently he carried off the bride and bridesmaids from a wedding party, so I imagine there are quite a few. Whether a court would take the word of elves over an Arl's son is a different matter."

Anora uttered a stifled sigh. "Yes, I see your point. I will make enquiries. Though I can't help thinking it would be best for all concerned if…" She bit her lip. "No, it's too dangerous. If anyone were to find out... ah, well. In the meantime, I suppose I'll have to postpone the decision and explain the delay to Sighard."

She didn't need to explain what she'd been considering. One part of Aedan, the part that still believed in honour and justice, felt vaguely uncomfortable at the idea; the other – the coolly pragmatic and brutal one that had come to the fore during the Blight – couldn't help agreeing with her. He fell silent, brooding, until another thought occurred to him.

"What I don't understand," he said, "is why Cauthrien didn't tell you of this. Her men must have found Vaughan when they were cleaning out the dungeon."

"She may have told my father. I can't imagine he would simply have let Vaughan go, so close to the Landsmeet." Anora bit off a small piece of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. "Or else… she may have avoided telling anyone for reasons of her own. Remember that Cauthrien grew up in poverty; she has… strong views about noblemen who abuse their power."

Aedan set down his knife with a clatter. "Then I hope you intend to have them whipped out of her," he said grimly, "because that's exactly what I'll do if she ever tries that trick on me. I've kept her in my army because she's loyal and competent and I need experienced commanders, but I'll not have anyone keeping vital information from me on some idiotic personal whim. I've had enough of that from those accursed Wardens."

"You may do as you see fit, of course," she said rather coldly. "I will speak to – wait, I hear someone coming."

Moments later, the double doors swung open and Cauthrien herself entered the room. "Forgive me for interrupting, your Majesty, but the Arl of Redcliffe is here as you requested. He's waiting in the antechamber." Never entirely comfortable with protocol, she bowed hastily and began to retreat towards the doors, but Anora held up a hand to detain her.

"One moment, Cauthrien. My husband has just told me some rather disturbing news." Her eyes flicked briefly to Aedan and then back to Cauthrien. "When he visited Howe's estate he found Arl Urien Kendells' son alive, imprisoned in the dungeon. Were you aware of this?

"I – " Cauthrien swallowed. "My men did tell me that one of the prisoners claimed to be Vaughan Kendells. I had him moved to the palace dungeons, along with the others."

"Did you inform my father of this?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"And what was his response?"

"He said he would deal with it after the Blight was over," she answered woodenly. "But then the Landsmeet happened and my lord… well…"

"I see. And no one thought to pass on this news, when I took the throne after the Landsmeet?"

"Er… no, your Majesty."

"This is not a trivial matter, Cauthrien." Anora's tone was just a little too calm and pleasant. "This very afternoon, I will be expected to announce the new Arl of Denerim at the Landsmeet. Now I discover that the rightful heir to the arling is still alive, languishing in my own dungeon. Is there any reason you chose not to inform me of this?"

"Things were in such chaos, your Majesty, after the Teyrn's death. It… must have slipped my mind." Cauthrien was a very poor liar, and Aedan doubted she even expected to be believed; her face wore the resigned expression of one caught out in a blatant misdeed. "I'm very sorry."

Aedan had not realised, until that moment, just how menacing his wife could look when she wished. She barely moved a muscle, yet suddenly her blue eyes were hard, narrow slits, her lips set in a thin line.

"The last time one of my informants kept vital information from me, I had him banished from Ferelden on pain of execution." She sat perfectly still, her eyes fixed on Cauthrien. "I understand that these… lapses of memory do happen, therefore I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I do not expect it to happen again. Am I understood, Cauthrien?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Good. You may tell Eamon I will be with him in a few minutes." She flicked her hand towards the door in a gesture of dismissal. The guardswoman bowed again, her expression sullen, and left the room.

Aedan's eyes met his wife's over the table. "You were a lot easier on her than I would have been." He couldn't quite explain, even to himself, why he disliked Cauthrien so much. Perhaps he'd simply never forgiven her for that 'churl' at Eamon's estate.

"Cauthrien is no fool. Rather pig-headed, perhaps, but not a fool. I think she'll grasp the message well enough." Anora polished off the last few crumbs of bread, then dipped her hands in the bowl of washing-water and wiped them daintily on a napkin. "And now Eamon. I was hoping, Aedan, that you might be able to aid me in this."

"In what, exactly?"

"Today, at the Landsmeet, I intend to announce my plans for reform of Ferelden's judicial system." Her eyes seemed to grow brighter as she spoke. "In brief, I hope to put an end to this pointless, destructive feuding in the Bannorn… or at least make it far less common. I plan to set up a court which will judge disputes over land, vassalage, or anything else the banns might take it into their heads to fight over. It will act in my name, but save me the trouble of having to judge every petty quarrel myself."

"So… your plan is to stop the Bannorn from waging private wars?" Aedan laughed shortly. "And tomorrow I suppose you'll be hatching griffon eggs and launching an expedition to the Golden City?"

"For someone who managed to track down Andraste's ashes, you are very cynical, Aedan." She smiled, clearly more amused than offended. "Believe me, I've put a great deal of thought into this. I'm not under any illusions that change will come quickly or easily, but come it must, if we wish to survive as a nation."

"And what's Eamon's part in this?"

"I want him to preside over the court." His jaw dropped. "Yes, I know he didn't support me as queen, but that is exactly why I need him. The Bannorn would never agree to be judged by someone they saw as my puppet. Eamon is popular and well-respected, and no one could possibly accuse him of being in my pocket."

Aedan could see the sense of what she said, but he still raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to give him that kind of power?"

"It is a risk, but at least I can keep a closer eye on him in Denerim than I could in Redcliffe. There is a famous saying about friends and enemies, after all." She shrugged. "And of course, he would not be the only person on the court – I would be sure to surround him with people I trust. However, I need him to agree first… and that is where I hoped you might aid me, husband."

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "In all honesty, Anora, I doubt I would be able to help."

"No? You could speak to him beforehand, at least. You and he are on good terms, and he owes you a great deal – " She broke off as she saw his expression. "What's wrong?"

Aedan coughed slightly. "Eamon and I are… not on especially good terms at the moment," he said, a little stiffly.

"Oh? And why is that?"

He saw no point in beating about the bush. "We quarrelled at Redcliffe before the march to Denerim. He was unhappy about how the Landsmeet turned out, and wasn't shy about saying so. I was angry with him and said some things that were…" He exhaled slowly. "Perhaps a trifle hasty and ill-judged."

Her face fell, and Aedan had the sudden, painful feeling that he had disappointed his wife yet again. "I see," she said, after a pregnant silence. "You were not exaggerating when you told me diplomacy is not your strong suit, were you?"

"It's true," he said, with a rueful grin. "Unless you count the kind of diplomacy that takes place at swordpoint."

"You are like my father, then, in that sense. He always insisted that war was inevitable, and one could only make sure that one was properly prepared. I could never bring him to understand that wars can be fought by other means." Anora raised her eyes to his. "May I ask you a great favour?"

Aedan didn't appreciate the comparison to Loghain, but he felt guilty enough for disrupting her plans that he wasn't inclined to refuse her. "What is it?"

"Whatever you said to Eamon, I want you to apologise for it. Not now, necessarily, but at some point." His mouth opened. "Yes, I know it's against protocol, and I'm sure he was at least as much to blame as you. But the truth is, Aedan, that I need his help." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "Eamon is powerful and influential, and he could cause a great deal of trouble for me if he wished. I would rather have him on our side if at all possible. Will you do this for me?"

Aedan's jaw snapped shut with a click. His wife's lovely eyes seemed to widen slightly as they looked into his – reminding him, ironically, of a comment made by Eamon. Following her lead, he swallowed down the last of his ale and got slowly to his feet.

"All right," he said heavily. "For you."

"Thank you, husband." Walking round the edge of the table, she took his hand in her own and gently squeezed it. "This means a great deal to me. I will see you at luncheon, before the Landsmeet."

Aedan suppressed a sigh. One single night they'd been married – well, officially married – and he suspected he was already as much in her power as Cailan had ever been. Still, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Of course, I'll expect a favour of my own in return." He slipped an arm around her, pulling her close, and his other hand slid up to caress her breast. Slowly he circled her nipple with his fingers, feeling it harden beneath the smooth fabric, and gave it a light pinch with his thumb and forefinger. Anora bit her lip, her breath hissing softly between her teeth.

"You know," he murmured, "your quarters are just through that door. We could always let Eamon wait a little longer…"

She frowned, though he could feel her heart beating more quickly. "He might hear us!"

"And?"

A soft sigh escaped her, and he could tell she was tempted, but she shook her head. "Later, Aedan, please… after the Landsmeet."

"Is that a promise?" His arms tightened around her.

"Yes… yes, that is a promise."

"I'll hold you to it." He kissed her fiercely, then released her and stepped back.

"What was it you were going to tell me earlier, when I spoke of my parents?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes… that." She pursed her lips. "Perhaps I'd better show you, rather than try to explain. Come to my chambers."

He followed her through the connecting door into her bedchamber, where she walked swiftly to a small coffer on her dresser and threw open the lid, withdrawing a folded sheet of vellum. "I was looking through my father's belongings when you were in Highever," she began, "and I found this in the fireplace. It seems to be a letter from your father to Cailan. He must have tried to burn it just before the Landsmeet, but a good deal of it has survived."

Frowning, Aedan took the letter from her and unfolded it. The writing was indeed Bryce Cousland's, and it was dated the previous year, shortly before he'd accompanied his father to Val Royeaux.

"Most gracious Majesty…" The parchment had holes burnt through in several places, with large sections of text missing or unreadable. "I will of course deliver your message to the Empress, but… most strongly advise against… Landsmeet would never… no wish to make an enemy of Loghain Mac Tir." A chill settled on Aedan as he read the words. It was obvious that Cailan had been using his father as a reluctant go-between in some private business with Celene. But what business?

"My father was as loyal to Ferelden as any man who ever lived." The words rasped harshly in his throat. "Whatever message he brought to Celene, he did it on his king's orders. If you are suggesting – "

"Hush, Aedan." Her voice was gentle. "I know as well as you do that Bryce would never have betrayed Ferelden. If your father had a fault, it was that he was too honest, too honourable." There was a trace of sadness in her eyes. "But I fear Cailan may have been trying to make some kind of arrangement with Celene – one my father would not have approved of. And I fear Howe may have used Father's paranoia to turn him against Bryce and your family."

"What sort of arrangement?"

"I can't say."

"Well, Celene's here," he said drily, and only half in jest. "Why not ask her?"

She snorted. "Surely you don't think she would tell me the truth? She would either insist the message never reached her, or think up some trivial explanation on the spur of the moment. Remember, Celene has been mixed up in the Game her entire life; she is good at thinking quickly."

"Then I suppose we'll never know." Aedan began to crumple the letter in his hand. "Perhaps that's for the best."

"Perhaps," she agreed, though she didn't sound convinced. "Anyway, I can't keep Eamon waiting any longer. I will see you in a little while."

She quietly left the room. Aedan slowly unfolded the parchment and read it through one more time, searching for anything that might shed some light on his father's mysterious mission, but there was nothing. Something that would anger Loghain… well, that could be almost anything. To a man as obsessively paranoid as he had been, even exchanging the time of day with Celene probably seemed tantamount to treason.

He never heard the side door open behind him, yet the faint breath of cool air on the back of his neck told him that something was amiss. Aedan's body tensed, his hand sliding towards the hilt of his sword. Every nerve in his body hummed with the premonition of danger, that sixth sense that had saved his life on dozens of occasions during the Blight.

He waited a couple of seconds, straining his ears for footsteps or other sounds. When he heard none, he dropped the letter and whirled round, drawing his sword close to his body in a defensive stance. The approaching figure let out a yelp and flung himself backwards onto the bed. Aedan's sword was at the man's throat before he even had the chance to register the familiar features.

"You are very tense and jumpy today, my dear Warden," said a sardonic Antivan voice, pitched ever so slightly higher than usual.

"Zevran?" Aedan's racing pulse began to slow. Carefully withdrawing his sword, he shook his head at the elf, who'd swept back his hair into a ponytail and swapped his customary leathers for a palace servant's uniform. "Maker's balls, what possessed you to sneak up on me like that? Where have you been these past weeks, anyway?"

"I was investigating the palace defences – as you requested, your Highness." Rolling off the bed, Zevran landed cat-like on his feet and made a small, ironic bow. "Here are my notes on its many, many weaknesses." He handed Aedan several sheets of vellum, all densely covered in small, neat handwriting. "And I thought you might wish to know that Queen Anora's handmaiden has been following you around the palace. I make no judgements, just a simple observation."

"Has she, indeed?" Aedan's lips tightened. He was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, to learn that Anora trusted him so little. There was no point in confronting her about it; instead he tucked the information away at the back of his mind, in case it should ever come in useful. "Anything else?"

"One thing only: This morning I saw the Orlesian Empress speaking to our friend Alistair." Aedan's mouth opened, but Zevran had anticipated his next question. "No, I could not get close enough to hear them, but I should judge that they spoke for one or two minutes. Again, a mere observation, nothing more."

"Thank you, Zevran," he said shortly. "Keep up the good work."

"My pleasure, dear Warden." A flash of a white-toothed grin and the elf vanished in a blur of speed, shutting the door behind him as noiselessly as he'd opened it.

Aedan's jaw clenched. As if he didn't have enough other things to worry about! What was Celene doing, he wondered – hatching a plan of some kind, or merely testing the waters? At least he could be sure Alistair wouldn't be fool enough to get caught up in her schemes. Reasonably sure.

He made a mental note to speak to his fellow Warden later on. In the meantime, he had more pressing matters to worry about. Pushing his father's letter to the back of his mind, he followed Zevran through the side door and headed for the training yard, determined to get in a few hours of practice – just in case today's Landsmeet should prove to be as dramatic as the last. If Anora planned to subdue the Bannorn then she would have a fight on her hands, political or otherwise… and Aedan had the uncomfortable feeling that he would be manning the front lines.