Rhiannon swept through the halls of the palace, her ladies trailing behind her. At this early hour, the only faces she saw were those of the servants who quickly scurried out of her way with bows, curtsies and muttered 'Your Majesty's. She nodded politely as she continued on her way, stifling a yawn as she went.
Damn Alistair and these early meetings; when would he realize that most people weren't used to being roused from sleep at the bloody crack of dawn.
Lost in her thoughts, she rounded the corner and nearly bowled over Arl Eamon. Though, she supposed it wasn't Arl Eamon any longer now that he had been made Chancellor. Eamon was dressed and groomed, but even that couldn't disguise the fact that he had recently come from his bed.
"Oh Eamon, I'm so sorry," she said, "I didn't see you there."
"It's quite alright, Your Majesty," he replied, "the hour is if you don't mind me saying, far too early for anyone to have their wits about them."
She smiled and nodded, "I quite agree My Lord. Perhaps I shall have a talk with my husband about his fondness for early meetings. Shall we walk together then?"
As they made their way down the hall, Rhiannon chanced a glance at the man beside her. In the first month following the defeat of the Blight, Eamon's presence had been a much-needed one. However, it soon became obvious he had no intention of leaving. Before long he had petitioned Alistair to allow him to give his seat in Redcliff to his younger brother, Tegan. Alistair, of course, had accepted.
The two of them continued through the quiet corridors in relative silence until they came to the large wooden doors that lead to the King's quarters. The two guards stationed outside bowed and pulled open the doors for them to enter, revealing a young man dressed in the livery of the royal family. Rhiannon recognized him as Alec Bryland, a rather serious young man who had been appointed to Alistair's household earlier in the month.
"Your Majesty, My Lord Chancellor," he bowed before leading them into the parlor, "His Majesty will arrive to dine with you soon. If it pleases Your Majesty, may I escort your ladies to eat with the gentlemen of His Majesty's household?"
Rhiannon nodded her consent and watched her ladies trail after Alec, leaving her and Eamon alone to await Alistair's arrival. Her stomach growled loudly and she wished that she had had a chance to consume more than her morning cup of tea.
"Ah, there you two are."
Alistair entered the room, dressed simply in a shirt and trousers. She smiled and dipped into a curtsey as he took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers.
"Good morning, Alistair." She said, straightening back up
"I'm sorry for the hour," he replied, "I know how much you hate waking early, but I figured it would be best to get this out of the way. Shall we?"
Get what out of the way? Rhiannon glanced over at Eamon, who didn't seem the least bit puzzled. In fact, he looked impatient if anything. As she took a seat in one of the armchairs, she felt tendrils of dread writhing in her gut.
"So," Alistair began, "Eamon would you like to share the concerns that you have with us?"
"Concerns?" Rhiannon repeated, doing her best to keep a neutral tone.
"Yes," Alistair replied, "Eamon has something he wishes to discuss concerning the welfare of the realm. He came to me last night, but I insisted upon having you here to weigh in on the issue."
Before she could speak, an elven girl entered the room bearing a tray with fresh biscuits, butter, jam, and honey as well as a piping hot pot of tea. Alistair took the tray and thanked her before sending her on her way. Happy to have something to do with her mouth, Rhiannon took a biscuit from the tray and took a bite.
"I did not mean to exclude Your Majesty," Eamon said, smoothing his hair, " I simply wished to get the matter settled as soon as possible."
"I see," she took the pot and poured the steaming liquid into her cup, "and what matter might that be?"
"Apparently, the nobility is grumbling," Alistair said, buttering his bread
Rhiannon cocked an eyebrow as she sipped her tea. In the past six months, she and Alistair had focused most of their energy and resources on rebuilding the parts of the country that had been devastated by the Blight, raising taxes when it became clear that the cost was more than the crown could bear. She had insisted that their allies be rewarded early and that those who had stood against them not be punished, but allowed to keep their lands. By all rights, the nobility had little to grumble over.
"It is much more serious than mere grumbling, I'm afraid." Eamon replied, his brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Then what could possibly have their knickers in a twist," Alistair asked, "we've asked them for nothing they were incapable of providing. They might remember that we also increased taxes amongst the general populace."
"It is not the taxes, Your Majesty."
"Then what on earth could be the problem?"
Suddenly, the realization washed over her. She took a deep breath and set down her cup upon its saucer.
"It's Anora, isn't it?"
Eamon nodded, his expression grave "I'm afraid so, Your Majesty. She has been locked away in Fort Drakon these past months and the people are not pleased. She was well loved, and still has supporters within the Landsmeet."
"So what do you want us to do, kill her?"
No sooner had the words left her lips she knew that was exactly what he wanted them to do. She should have expected it, must have known deep down that the subject would be broached eventually. Still, the idea was not one she wished to dwell on.
"What if she swore fealty," she inquired, "renounced her claim to the throne before the Landsmeet and bent the knee?"
"Do you really think she would do that," scoffed Alistair, "if she's anything like her father, she could make this very ugly."
"I am inclined to agree with His Majesty," Eamon said, "Anora Mac Tir would never hand over something she felt was hers by right."
"She might, if only to save her own life."
The silence that followed made it clear that she was the only one who held this opinion. Eamon's gaze hardened as he looked at her from across the table, his hands gripping the arm of his chair. So this was why he had gone to Alistair behind her back; he hoped to rid himself of Anora without Rhiannon's interference.
And why not? He had always disliked her and her father, considering them upstarts and unworthy of both crown and Teyrnir. Anora hadn't allowed him to pull Cailen's strings the way he had wanted and he now seemed to realize that Rhiannon would be just as unwilling to let him pull Alistair's.
Quickly, she turned to Alistair and took his hand in hers, gazing into his eyes as she spoke.
"Alistair, as King I know that the final decision is yours to make," she dropped her gaze momentarily, "but I beg you to entertain the idea of mercy. Allow me to speak to her and, see if she will agree to reason."
"If she does not, then what?" Alistair asked, "Eamon has a point. Her claim could put us and any future heirs in jeopardy."
"If she will not agree, then she will die," Rhiannon consented, "I will not try to sway you."
"You are making a mistake," Eamon interjected, " ignoring her treason due to your personal feelings makes you look weak. Your Majesty, I beg you not to indulge this foolishness."
"Eamon," Alistair said, his tone quiet, "You would do well not to speak of my wife in such a manner. I have listened to you both and I feel like Rhiannon should be given a chance to try her plan. If Anora fails to take mercy when it is offered, then you will get what you wanted."
"I- yes, Your Majesty."
"As for you, wife," he said, " I want Anora's answer by tomorrow evening."
"You shall have it."
"Then we shall reconvene tomorrow?" Eamon asked, rising to his feet
"We shall, My Lord." Rhiannon replied, smiling as he bowed and headed for the door, "we wish you a good rest of your day."
She watched as he hurried out of the room, fist clenched at his side, realizing that Eamon was indeed going to be a problem.
Anora Mac Tir gazed at her reflection; the early morning sunlight streaming through her window illuminated the highlights in her hair, which still shone like spun gold without a hint of grey to suggest her age. Her eyes, she noticed, told another story. Dark circles marred her otherwise creamy complexion, brought forth by months of mild insomnia. On a good night, she might snatch five or six hours before the morning bells roused her from her sleep. On a bad night, she might stare at the ceiling for hours, drifting off as the first rays of sunlight broke on the horizon before being awoken once more by her nightmares.
The first few months after being locked away, she had woken screaming so loudly that the guards had come rushing into her cell. That had been foolish, to show such fear in front of her enemies; and they were her enemies. The guards were kind, though they insisted upon calling her 'My Lady' as if she was some gently born commoner instead of the rightful queen of Ferelden. The maids that had been assigned to her, two daughters of Lord Mac Eanraig, seemed afraid of her and went about their duties in near silence. Still, no matter their respect or their meekness, she knew that they were loyal to her and could not be trusted.
The creak of the door signaled the arrival of the maids, come to help her dress and bring her breakfast. She rose from her seat and turned to face them, a gasp escaping her lips before she thought to bite it back.
"Good morning Anora," said Rhiannon Cousland
Rhiannon Therin she corrected herself as she took in the girl before her. The last time she had seen the girl, she had been covered in blood and calling for her the execution of her father. News reached her that she had carried out the sentence herself after Anora had been escorted from the Landsmeet hall. 'I will not force another daughter to watch her father die' she had said. Of course, Anora had still been forced to look upon the blood-soaked stones that had held her father when he fell, while this child declared herself queen alongside her husband's bastard brother; All with the support of the nobility, who she once thought had loved her so well.
Now, the girl dressed in deep blue velvet trimmed with white fur, jewels glittering at her throat and a golden crown resting atop her copper curls, making her suddenly aware of her simple nightdress and plain slippers.
"Rhiannon," She said, turning to go back to her seat at the vanity, "you find me ill prepared for visitors."
She noticed Rhiannon's eyes flash at the lack of honorific, though she quickly covered her irritation with a smile and chuckled at her gall.
"You'll have to forgive me for not giving advanced notice, but time is of the essence. I have an offer for you."
"What could you possibly have to offer me?"
"Your life, for one thing," she replied, crossing the room and sitting down in the window seat, "Something Eamon seems to desire very much it seems."
"Oh, and you don't?" Anora scoffed
"As it happens, I don't." she said, "Your father has betrayed this country and its people, and may have committed regicide as well. You, however, simply had the ill favor of picking the wrong side."
"Did you expect me to turn on my father?"
Rhiannon shook her head, "No. No, I knew you would never speak against him. Honestly, it was pure luck that things worked out the way they did."
Anora inhaled sharply as memories from that day came back full force. A mistimed swing, fueled by wild fury had been enough to destroy everything she held dear. Without such a misstep, her father might still be alive.
"How dare you," she sneered, "you murdered my father and you have the nerve to speak to me about luck!"
She watched as the girl took a breath and calmly continued on.
"I apologize, my words were badly chosen. However, the point stands that I would prefer not to snuff out an entire line. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say."
"Very well. Speak."
"All you must do is swear fealty to Alistair and I. Do this, and not only will your life be spared, but you will also be given back the Teyrnir of Gwaren."
"I see," She said carefully, "I'm sorry but I cannot bring myself to believe that you would simply hand me back my lands with so little done on my part."
"Well," Rhiannon said, toying with the ring on her left hand, "Alistair would have to assign you staff that has proven to be loyal to the crown and in time, if there is no sign of treachery, you will be allowed to make your own appointments."
"If there is no treachery," Anora repeated, glaring at the woman sitting across from her, "you said yourself that I was innocent of my father's crimes."
"I did," Rhiannon agreed, her lips curving into a smirk, "but do you think me such a stupid girl that I would trust you not to start an uprising given the chance? No, Anora, we will be watching you until we are sure of your loyalty."
"So you would grant me my life, only to have me live with the threat of a traitors death hanging over my head?"
"If you do not intend to commit treason, then you have nothing to fear from us." Rhiannon rose to her feet and started towards the door, "So, do you agree."
Anora breathed in, looking at her hands and noticed that they were shaking.
"I agree to your terms, Your Majesty."