I own Androni

"Grand Enchanter Fiona!" These words echo across the hall. The small elven woman in question visibly stiffens at harsh tone. She scuttles forward, wringing her hands together. Nervously, she bows her head as the Prince-Consort makes his way towards her. Sneaking a glance at the man, she bites her bottom lip. Androni Cousland-Prince-Consort and Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. The man ended the Blight nearly single handedly scared her to no end.

"Y-y-yes, Your Majesty?" She stutters in a small voice, fully realizing the gravity of her mistake.

"When we offered you protection here, it did not come with the assumption that you'd force our people from their homes." Androni narrows his eyes. "So, imagine my surprise when I hear that Tevinter is making a land grab."

"Your Majesty, that was not-" Fiona begins but stops when Androni makes a slicing motion with his hand.

"It is, Grand Enchanter! You conspired with a foreign power to turn Ferelden land into the front line of invasion!" Androni yells this at her, his anger clear and visible, rolling off his regal form. "As Prince, I should have your followers executed and send you back to Weisshaupt and have your son watch you take the Joining for a second time!" Noticing her shocked look, Androni sneers. "Of course I know about you and your relations."

Staring down the trembling woman, Androni then shifts his gaze over to the elven woman with a greatsword strapped to her back. He inclines his head and the woman returns the nod. "Your Majesty," she murmurs.

Androni shifts his eyes back to Fiona before flicking them back to the woman. "And what is your take on all of this Herald? It is my understanding that the Inquisition requires help in closing the Breach. Would you trust these mages?" Androni narrows his eyes and watches the Herald intently.

The Herald pulls on her bottom lip, staring at the floor. After a few moments, she lifts her head and looks at Fiona. "You did support the Tevinter mages in the beginning, but I believe that you redeemed yourself by realizing your mistake. If you'd have us, the Inquisition would like to offer you an alliance."

Androni nods his head and claps his heads together. "Wonderful. Now that it's settled, I trust that the inquisition will have these mages removed from Redcliff by next morning?" The Herald nods her head. "Good." Androni turns slightly and waves over one of his guard. "Commander," he says when the guard approaches, "Escort the Grand Enchanter out. I want to have a word with the Herald and her companions." As the guards move to carry out the order of the Prince-of which Fiona happily moves towards the exit to get away from Androni-he takes this time to look at the Herald.

She is a Dalish elf and while that would surprise most, it doesn't affect the Prince in the slightest. What does surprise him is the greatsword strapped to her back. He would have figured that the lithe woman would have come for something more graceful, but this merely proves that looks can be deceiving. His eyes then flick towards the handsome Tevinter mage behind her and back still towards the dwarven archer named Varric and the Right hand of the Former Divine, Cassandra.

Once the Enchanter had left, Androni smirks at the Herald, wryly. "Never a dull moment."

The Herald nods her head and smiles at Androni. "That is true, Your Majesty."

Androni makes a waving motion with his hand. "Oh, come off that 'Your Majesty' nonsense. Just call me Androni." He smiles to ease the building tension.

The Herald returns his smile. "You may call me Alturana." She takes this moment to look over the Prince-Consort. He is a head taller than she, with wide, broad shoulders. His royal garb clings to his tight body, hugging his muscles and moving as if it were a second skin. Her eyes pull off his body, regretfully, and back up to his face. His cool grey eyes watch her intently. She drinks in his face, noting the sun-tanned skin with various scars cut into it. She notes his rectangular face with a strong jawline. His bushy eyebrows knit together for a moment, before his face relaxes and his thick lips part to reveal his white teeth.

"Alturana? Hmm, the 'Saviour in Mourning'? I hope I did not butcher that." He grins weakly and shrugs lightly.

Blinking, Alturana gasps slightly, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "You speak in the Old Tongue?"

Androni shrugs again. "No. I am only very adept at listening to my advisors. Something you should also take heed to. I have met all your advisors on different occasions. Trust them; especially Leliana."

At this, Cassandra takes a hesitant step forward. "You know Leliana, Your Majesty?"

Smirking wryly, Androni nods. "Well, she did help me stop a Blight. Now, if you'll excuse me. . ." Androni turns on his heel and begins to walk out of the Hall, when he stops suddenly and turns back. "And Herald? Remember, that the righteous stand before the dark, and the Maker will guide their hand." He nods his head again. Turning, he leaves the Herald behind him. Stepping down from the Castle, he calmly walks out into the courtyard, past the gate, and onto the cliff overlooking the village. He leans against the old windmill and closes his eyes. The Royal guards stand a respectable distance back, leaving the Prince alone on the cliff.

He smiles as he smells the faint hint of Andraste's Grace and shudders as fingers trail along his shoulders. Keeping his eyes closed, he holds out his hand. It is guided by delicate touches to the cheek of a petite woman. Opening his eyes, he drinks in the form of the woman before him. "I was wondering when you'd come out of the shadows, Leliana."

Leliana smiles against his hand, leaning into his touch. "You fight dirty, Andri; using scripture against me." She turns her head and kisses the palm of his hand. She slides her fingers up his arm, feeling him shudder under her.

"Not my fault that is your favorite, Leli." Androni steps closer. He rests a hand on her hip and tilts her head up with his other hand. His eyes find hers and sees the growing hunger behind her mask. His eyes flick to her lips and his voice drops into a whisper. "After the Conclave, I feared you were dead."

"Andri," Leliana breathes. She kisses his lips tenderly, lingeringly. Her hands hook behind his neck, and her fingers run through is hair. Sighing, she rests her forehead against his and closes her eyes. "I've missed you too."

He closes his eyes and holds her tight. "You know, if this inquisition thing doesn't work out, my offer still stands."

Leliana smirks. "You sure the bannorn would accept me as queen?"

"Of course. They like having heirs more than any drama associated with the Chantry or the Game. Besides, they should know by now that I don't play by the rules."

Leliana chuckles and pecks his lips. "Mm, the offer is tempting. Speaking of the kids, how are they?"

"They're wondering when you're coming back. They like you, like I like you." Androni smirks and winks at her.

She blushes and mocking blinks daintily, "You like me, Your Majesty?"

"Aye, that I do, woman." He grins and pulls back slightly, fishing a box from his pocket. All air leaves Leliana's lungs as she stares bug-eyed at the box. "A formality. In case something happens to me. So you can be well set for life."

She places her hand over the box. "If you go, I'm going with you."

"Same here, love." Androni opens the box to reveal a simple golden ring. "This is just for you. I'll make a flashy impression later, for the Game." He sighs as he offers the ring to her. "It's been a long time since Anora's death. I loved her. But I love you too and I'm not going to be sitting by and watch you leave my life again. So, please…" he trails off.

Leliana smiles through her welled up eyes. "Of course, Andri." She leans in to kiss him again as he slides the ring onto her finger.