Note from the writer: I was watching The Queen and suddenly the idea for this story popped into my head; what will life be like for the noblewoman King Alistair marries because of duty? Alistair, the Warden and all things Dragon Age-y belong to Bioware, but this story and its narrator are mine.

This story was supposed to be the most inappropriate Valentine's Day greeting ever, but for some reason the site would freak out when I tried to upload this on Feb 14th. Clearly some gnome in the machinery is a romantic at heart...

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Duties of a Queen

She has realized she shouldn't have married him. Should never have agreed to the match that everyone around her thought was good. Should never have married a man who didn't love her. A man she would never be able to love. Love, contrary to what she had been told as a child, doesn't just blossom magically when a princess got her prince.

He is a good man, she can't disagree with that. And that somehow makes it worse. To know that he is so good and doing his duty, just as she is, makes it so much worse. She can't hate him, so she has to hate herself.

He loves someone. The other Warden, the beautiful mage who comes by every now and then, on official business. And it's only official, she knows it. Oh, there are the looks Alistair exchanges with the mage, the looks the two of them think nobody notices. She notices, and never says a thing. Never has, never will.

She would feel better if it wasn't all official. If he snuck away with the Warden. It would make him less good, less honourable, and she could respond to the flirting noblemen in the court, encourage them and take them to her bed. But he respects the vows he took when they married and is faithful. So she has to be too.

He had muttered the name of the Warden in his sleep once. She had closed her eyes and tried to sleep and tried not to hear, but the name had been there. She had realized that no one would ever mutter her name in their sleep, with so much feeling. A couple of weeks after that he had started to sleep in his own bedroom, and a week after that she had found out she was pregnant.

Sometimes when they talk about the baby Alistair has a strange, almost worried look on his face and she has no idea why the idea of children makes him so nervous. He knows he should have them, and he seems genuinely pleased about their baby, but still there's a badly hidden worry behind his eyes whenever someone mentions children.

She knows that the baby will change things. Once the baby is born, she will have done her greatest duty; given him a son, an heir to the throne. Should she give him another? Children die so easily and she has been reminded, over and over, that it is important to keep the bloodline going. Perhaps one more child, perhaps even two more, if they can have any more. She has been told that even this one baby is a miracle, but that won't stop them demanding her for more miracles.

After she has given the nation and its noble lords the royal heirs they desire... What then? The rest of her life, stretching out before her with no hope of true happiness, only of being content with what she has. Of course its more than most people have, and she shouldn't complain. Perhaps asking for happiness is greedy, and she shouldn't be greedy.

There are so many 'shoulds' and 'have tos' that she sometimes feels she is drowning in a sea of expectations. It's the same for him, she knows it. But the thought of him feeling the same does not ease her mind. Even though both of them are trapped, they are in separate cages, never quite understanding one another, never quite reaching the other one for comfort. With someone, but at the same time all alone.

Loneliness is just one more duty for her to bear with a smile on her face.