Sequel to "Freely We Serve". It's not strictly necessary to read the first story to follow this one, but I do recommend reading at least chapter 62 of "Freely We Serve", which summarizes most of the post-Blight changes.


Two weeks after the slaying of the Archdemon:

When the grey of approaching dawn began to light the streets of Denerim, the city's newly minted Arl was already awake, standing on his balcony and surveying his domain.

Daniel Kylon was Denerim born and Denerim bred, and he loved his city with everything he had—he felt incredibly privileged to be its ruler, to have its safety and comfort in his hands. But this morning he barely saw the rooftops and cobblestones. Today was his wedding day, and he could think of nothing but the beautiful mage who had consented to become his wife. Judith Amell, Grey Warden and Hero of Ferelden, had taken over his dreams from the moment he'd seen her face on a wanted poster, and he was still surprised and delighted that she had fallen in love with him as well.

A knock at the door broke into Kylon's thoughts. He turned to see his valet, Alex, carefully putting down a tray of tea and scones. He shook his head when he saw Kylon already dressed. "Will Your Lordship never allow me to dress him?"

"Never," Kylon said cheerfully. "Don't you have better things to do?"

"Er … no," said Alex uncomfortably.

"Let's see if we can remedy that, shall we?" Kylon asked. He sympathized, but he'd been dressing himself his whole life. And as far as undressing was concerned, the only help he needed was Judith's. His pulse raced just thinking about it. King Alistair had insisted—with a truly diabolical twinkle in his eyes—that he couldn't perform the ceremony unless they kept their distance from each other in the weeks leading up to the wedding. Despite his excitement about the wedding, Kylon was literally aching to get through it and to the wedding night. He banished thoughts of Judith's slender creamy thighs wrapped around him with difficulty as Alex held out a plate with a buttery scone on it.

"You really ought to eat something, ser," Alex said when Kylon shook his head, pushing the scone away.

"Too nervous to eat," Kylon said.

Alex poured a cup of tea, added sugar, and held it out instead.

Taking the cup, Kylon said, "Is there anything on the morning's agenda that I should know about?"

The valet allowed a small smile to pass over his features. "I believe there is a rather important wedding to attend at noon, ser," he said.

"Impudence," Kylon said in mock annoyance, sipping his tea. "Before that."

"Various citizens have called with wedding gifts. Sanga asked that hers be opened, er, privately." Alex blushed, imagining what the city's most powerful madam might have brought as a wedding gift.

Kylon grinned widely in anticipation. "Anything else?"

"No, ser." Alex collected the tea things and disappeared. Kylon finished his tea and left the room. He was uncomfortable with the guard who fell in behind him—Kylon had walked the city unaccompanied for his whole life, and didn't see why he suddenly needed a bodyguard. But no matter how many times he tried to convince everyone that he didn't need guarding, the guard remained.

"Let's see what the city is up to this morning, shall we, Ivan?" Kylon said to the guard. "Unless, of course, you can think of something better to do with your time than follow me around."

"After you, ser," Ivan said, gesturing with one gauntleted hand.

"It must be a difficult life," Kylon remarked, "wandering about in armor, subject to the whims of a man who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself." Ivan ignored Kylon's complaints, as always, and fell into step just behind him. Kylon shook his head in exasperation.

His spirits rose as they entered the Market District, his favorite part of Denerim. The sound of hammering rang out in nearly every street as the citizens busied themselves with repairing the buildings and streets damaged in the siege. The Market District was bustling. Kylon saw Ignacio and Cesar, the Antivan Crows, had put their stall back together again. Ignacio bowed to Kylon, who nodded in return. He didn't much trust the two Crows, but they had fought bravely in the battle for the city, and it was always a wise idea to stay on their good side.

Kylon meandered through the tents filled with brightly colored wares, basking in the babble around him. Trade was brisk—every day another merchant or two returned to the city. In a fabric stall, Kylon stopped to finger a bolt of ice-blue silk, its delicacy reminding him of Judith. He stepped to the side to make room for a dark-haired young elven girl who was looking at the same fabric. It was a mark of the new Ferelden, which King Alistair and Queen Anora were trying to build on equality for all, that the elf was allowed in the Market District at all, and Kylon noticed that the proprietress, a large woman named Margery, was ignoring the elf completely. Instead, Margery bustled up to Kylon.

"Ser, what an honor it is to have you in my shop," she simpered.

"Glad to see you back, Margery. Took a bit of a vacation, did you?" He hadn't seen her shop here since the Blight had started.

Margery flushed, but her smile stayed fixed. "Yes, that's right," she said. "The Anderfels are lovely this time of year."

"I'll take your word for it," he said dryly.

"Uh, ser!" Margery called out as he turned to leave the stall. She snatched the bolt of blue silk out from under the elven girl's nose and held it out to Kylon. "I'd be pleased if you'd take this. As a token of my respect."

Kylon put up his hand to refuse—Judith wore armor mostly, anyway, she probably didn't need a new dress—then his eye fell on the young elf's crestfallen face. "Thank you, Margery," he said, taking the silk. He turned to the elf. "Miss, I would be honored if you would accept this, with my compliments."

Her eyes widened, and with a whispered thank you she took the bolt of silk in trembling fingers.

As the elf left the stall, Margery snorted. "And what would some knife-ears need with a bolt of my good silk?"

Mildly, Kylon said, "Perhaps, having so recently returned to the city, Margery, you're not aware that elves are equal citizens now. It was one of King Alistair's first acts." His eyes met hers squarely, and he added, "Perhaps as word of your generous gift to that young elf gets around, you'll have the inside track to a whole new fabric-buying population. Think on that carefully." With a brusque nod, he stepped out of the stall, leaving Margery staring after him thoughtfully, her eyes taking on an avaricious gleam.

Kylon stopped at another stall, his eyes scanning bundles of exotic herbs.

"Congratulations, guv," said a voice.

Recognizing the voice immediately, Kylon knew better than to look for its owner. Rook was a long-time informant and a master of disguise. His information had been useful to Kylon many times over the years, but he was very secretive. Kylon wasn't entirely sure what Rook looked like without one of his disguises. "Glad you made it through the Blight," Kylon said quietly.

Rook snorted. "Take more than darkspawn, mate."

"Any news?"

"Nothin' solid. People seem right happy with you bein' the Arl, an' pleased with you marryin' the mage." Rook chuckled. "Looks a bit chilly, but I bet she warms right up under the covers, eh?"

Kylon cleared his throat sternly.

"Right. None o' my business." The grin was still obvious in his voice, though. "There's some mutterin's about the new way o' things, with the mages free and all."

That wasn't too surprising, Kylon thought. The Chantry was highly upset that King Alistair had given the mages their freedom from the Templars' oversight. The Grand Cleric had gone so far as to categorically refuse to perform Kylon and Judith's wedding. Kylon had argued with her, but didn't dare push her too far. He could only imagine what it would be like to try and run Denerim if he was at odds with the Grand Cleric. It would be hard enough as the husband of a mage. Still, if Rook thought it worth warning him about these mutterings, there was probably something there. "Keep me posted," he said quietly to the informant, tossing a gold piece in the air.

"Righto, guv." And Rook was gone, gold piece firmly in hand.

"Ah, there you are," purred a lilting Antivan voice at Kylon's elbow. He turned to see the elf Zevran, former Crow assassin turned ally of the Grey Wardens. More than ally, these days—Zev and the Orlesian Warden Riordan were nigh inseparable. "I have been looking for you all over the city."

"Aren't your hands full already, Zev? I'd think Riordan is more than enough to keep you occupied." Kylon grinned at the elf.

Zev's eyebrows lifted, and then his lips curved in a sensual smile. "My dear Kylon," he said, "any time you feel the need to broaden your horizons, you will find my hands more than up to the task."

"I believe my wife-to-be has that particular job well and truly in hand," Kylon said with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Zev said, bowing deeply in his courtly fashion. "Now, all verbal fencing aside, I am bidden to bring you to the Palace, where the King is desirous of an audience."

"Lead on, my friend." Kylon studied the elf as they walked. Zev had a satisfied air about him these days, a sense of peace that was at odds with his usual roving eye and insatiable appetite. "How are things going between you and Riordan? Will you accompany him to Amaranthine, join the Wardens?"

"Join the Wardens? I think not," Zev said. "It is not for everyone, is it?"

"No." Kylon walked alongside the elf in silence for a few moments. He and Judith had once discussed the possibility of him undergoing the Joining, but she hadn't wanted him to take the risk, and he had felt his duty to Denerim was higher than any need Ferelden might have for new Wardens. "So what will you do?"

"I will visit Amaranthine, of course. But not too often." Zev grinned. "One cannot have one's charms become … commonplace, now, can one?"

"I suppose not." Kylon thought of Judith in Amaranthine and himself in Denerim. While that kind of distance might be nice for someone like Zev, who didn't want to be weighted down by commitments, Kylon thought it would be a challenging way to conduct a marriage. Still, better to be married to Judith and live in different cities than any other fate he could imagine. He grinned in eager anticipation. In just a few short hours, he'd be married to the most enchanting woman in Thedas.

Inside the Palace, Alistair was waiting in the dining room, the remains of his breakfast in front of him. "Daniel, you don't look nearly nervous enough," he said, grinning. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Queen Anora looked up from the piece of toast she was buttering. "Alistair's nervous enough for both of you," she said with a warm smile at her husband.

"What's he got to be nervous about?"

"I've never performed a marriage ceremony before," Alistair said plaintively. "You're sure the Grand Cleric won't change her mind?"

Remembering the old woman's blazing eyes when he'd broached the topic, Kylon shook his head. "No. Definitely not."

Alistair nodded, resigned. "I could hardly eat breakfast, I was so nervous."

"That's true," Anora said quietly. "He only had three helpings." She grinned. The Grey Wardens' appetites were prodigious, and Alistair's was already becoming legendary.

"Where's Judith?" Kylon asked.

"Alfstanna took her out to the training field," Alistair said. Judith had become an arcane warrior, skilled in sword-fighting as well as in magic, during the Blight, and Teyrna Alfstanna of Gwaren was a skilled warrior in her own right. Grinning, Alistair added, "I think Judith was thinking about running away if she had to sit through another wedding gown fitting."

Kylon smiled weakly. It was a bit of a sore spot with him, Judith's impatience with the frills and frou-frou of a grand wedding. He had thrown himself into the planning of the wedding whole-heartedly, expecting that Judith would be as enthusiastic as he was. But she hadn't shared his vision of the big elaborate spectacle, and it was the one less-than-bright spot in this day, knowing she was so much less excited about the ceremony than he was. He kept trying to remind himself that as a mage she wouldn't have grown up expecting to marry, so she wouldn't have dreamed of it the way he had, but it still disappointed him that she hadn't enjoyed picking out flowers and selecting color schemes with him.

Anora put her napkin on her plate and stood up. "If you two will excuse me," she said, "I think I'll go retrieve your bride and try to wrestle her into her wedding gown." She smiled at Kylon as she went past, and he reflected how much warmer and more at ease she seemed.

"Being married to you has been good for her," he remarked to Alistair.

"I do my best," Alistair said. "She deserves it." His face darkened. "It'll be a lot better when my father-in-law goes back to his farm."

"When does he leave?"

"Not soon enough," Alistair growled. He had pardoned Loghain for Anora's sake, but he still blamed the former teyrn for the deaths of the Grey Wardens and King Cailan at Ostagar. "One more sneer, and I'll—" He clenched his fist.

"Oh, now that I would pay good money for," Zev said. Kylon jumped, having forgotten the elf was still in the room. It was uncanny, the way he just blended into the scenery, especially given his intrinsic flamboyance. "My king," he said to Alistair, "I believe there is something you wanted to discuss the next time we were all in the same room together?"

Alistair flushed. "Yes, yes, of course," he stammered. He checked the door to make sure there were no listening ears. "Zev, there's something I'd like you to do."

Kylon raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize we were actually going to do this," he said.

"We're not going to do anything," Alistair protested. "Just … I want to know."

"Know what?" Zev asked, mystified.

"I need you to find Morrigan," Alistair said quickly. "Find her, and keep tabs on her for … oh, about nine months."

"Nine … Ah," Zev said as the significance of the number sank in. "May I ask—?" he began delicately.

"Yes," Alistair growled. "Mine. But not—not what you're thinking."

"A magic ritual of some type performed just before the killing of the Archdemon?" Zev inquired.

"Oh. Then, yes, more or less what you're thinking." Alistair blushed. "How did you know?"

"You lovely innocent man," Zev said fondly. "It was obvious she was along for a reason. And equally obvious that she got what she wanted. Otherwise, she would not have left."

"She could have just wanted to help end the Blight," Alistair said.

Zev just looked at him.

"No, I suppose you're right." Alistair sighed. "So can you do it?"

"Find and watch? That and more, should more be required."

"Just find and watch," Alistair said.

Zev bowed. "Consider me your humble servant," he said. "And now, do you both not have a wedding to prepare for?"