Chancellor to the Queen
Prologue: Before the Dawn
The Hero of Ferelden tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Finally, after rolling onto his stomach and wincing in pain he pulled aside his sheets and strode over to his balcony.
The moon was full and bright, a beautiful jewel resting gracefully atop a crown of heavenly diamonds. He felt the familiar urge to shapeshift into a wolf and howl to its beauty, but his healing injuries forbade it, and so he was stuck merely gazing wistfully up at it, imagining what it would feel like to feel the warm fur covering him, and of dirt pushing between his paws. He could almost hear the other wolves surrounding Denerim taking up his call, joining in his chorus, and filling the night with song.
But there were no wolves any longer near Denerim, all of them murdered by darkspawn or corrupted by the blight, and so the night remained woefully silent.
Daylen walked over to his looking glass and examined his bandages. Large splotches of crimson dotted his torso, he would have to have the healers go over it again tomorrow, though he knew there was little they could do. In its last seconds the Archdemon had attacked Daylen with incredible force, nearly killing him. Three deep, ragged, and painful claw marks ran down his chest starting from his left neck and shoulder, moving all the way to the outside of his right thigh. It had taken nearly a week with healers at his side day and night before he had regained consciousness, and another week before he had been strong enough to go to his celebration party.
It had been three days since Daylen had officially become the Hero of Ferelden, and used his boon to become Chancellor Daylen Amell. He still didn't know what Anora intended for him, but he refused to be some pretty trophy to justify her right to rule. He may have saved Ferelden from the Archdemon, but the blight had greatly weakened the nation. Much of the southern farmland had been destroyed, and Loghain had begun using a scorched earth policy in the Bannorn when his rebellion had begun to lose ground. Denerim was also in shambles, and Daylen couldn't even begin to fathom what it would take to restore it to its former glory. He had to also consider the Darkspawn as well, while most of the army had fallen back into the deep roads, there were still several war bands running around, and if they should decide to attack with Denerim unprotected…
And he couldn't help but blame himself for the greatest weakness of all: Alistair. He should have forced Alistair to marry Anora, to the void with his demands. He should have slapped and screamed and reasoned and bribed and begged and whatever else it took to convince him to spare Loghain and take the crown. He should have told Alistair the cold hard truth about the world after they had left Goldanna's, maybe then he would have been more reasonable, but he had wanted to protect him from the more ugly truths of the world, and that one soft moment had cost him so much, and coupled Morrigan's disappearance, it was almost more than he could bear.
The nobles might have agreed in the Landsmeet that Anora be Queen, but that had been under duress. Now with the nation free of the Blight, many nobles would begin trying to take power from Anora at every turn, wanting a piece of her power, or maybe even the throne itself. Daylen could not sit by and watch the country he had nearly given his life to save consume itself from within, so he had given up on his dream of chasing after Morrigan, deciding to serve as Chancellor instead.
Daylen went back to his balcony to watch the sun rise and wait for breakfast to be brought to him, preparing himself for what was to come, and even with the inevitable struggles ahead, looking forward to what the future held in store.
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