A/N: Most of these are drabbles, depicting what happened after the Blight ended. Most of them are centered around my Grey Warden, Rome and Alistair. Rome is of the Highever Couslands. I'm 99% none of these will be in any sort of chronological order. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are nice, and the authoress appreciates the chance to grow as a writer.
Nonna is not my character, she belongs to a friend. I don't own anything except for Rome.
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Zevran and Nonna are in awe. They've stumbled across a secluded and very private garden. It's a lush green, with streaks of gold catching the pond's blue water just right, and glinting off of it. Small ducks swim effortlessly in the pond, quacking at each other. Flowers of every color are scattered across the garden. Ivy climbs up the walls, and Nonna sees three different colors of roses.
Nonna then notices a lounging Rome and Alistair. She's sitting against a tree trunk with Alistair's head in her lap. He had his eyes closed, and looked completely relaxed. Nonna also noticed Maric's blade next to them. She's stroking Alistair's hair, and watching him sleep, something resembling fondness passes over her face.
"Isn't it beautiful? It was a wedding gift from Alistair." Rome's voice is soft, careful not to wake her sleeping King. She looks up, brushing black hair out of her eyes. And then certain flowers catch Nonna's eyes. Elfroot, Deathroot, and countless other plants that Rome has used on their journeys. It is a rogue's paradise. Now she sees the garden for what it really is, her own private garden for ingredients.
To the untrained eye, to someone who doesn't know Rome or Alistair the way she does, it would seem like a simple gift. A gift from a husband filled to the brim with love and passion for his wife. But she knows, Alistair wouldn't have gotten her anything impractical. Rome was the most practical person in the world. Nonna wonders slightly why the Queen needs the variety of flowers.
Is it protection from some unknown force? Or is it for a sense of security, a sense of security that differs from the strong wall that is Alistair?
Zevran has made all of the same assumptions, and he offers Rome a good-natured grin.
"I hope I will be allowed back, my fair Majesty." He speaks with a double meaning. A look pass between the ex-assassin and the woman under his protection. She catches on quickly, studying Zevran. Nonna notices the small distrust in her eyes. There have been five attempts now. Rome and Alistair are painfully fair rulers, they have no agenda to put first. They are kind, but Nonna quickly caught on that their kindness was not to be mistaken for weakness.
"Of course. I just hope you don't pick all of the flowers. Some of these are very rare, from the far reaches of Antiva and Orlais."
This garden is protection. Protection for Alistair, in case he is poisoned. Rome is distrustful of the staff, and Nonna makes a note to attend to this. It is her job to do everything her Queen can't.
"All the better, my dear. Nonna, I believe we should leave the good Queen to her thoughts. Call upon us if anything is needed."
Nonna bows, and Zevran does the same. She feels Rome's eyes staring holes into her back as they leave.
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