And so begins Part 3 of the Other Paths Taken series. Like the previous parts, we start out rated "T" and will move to "M" when the smut happens. I do believe we'll be seeing sexytimes before the last chapter of this part. Hooray!

This story picks up about three years after Part 2. Reviews are greatly appreciated, like always. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Being as quiet as he could, Alistair eased the bedroom door closed carefully. He had already tugged his boots and tunic off in the sitting room, and if he avoided making too much noise, Breonna would never know what time he had gotten back. The room was dark, and he relied on memory to keep from tripping on furniture or the plush rugs scattered across the floor.

Finally making it to the bed, he pulled the covers back carefully and got in. He settled back with a small sigh. Success!

"You were out late."

Starting slightly, Alistair bit back a curse. Okay, not a success. The dim shape of his wife's form curled beneath the bedclothes was barely visible as he turned on his side to face her. An outstretched hand encountered her back and he drew himself closer so he could slip his arms around her.

"I was. I sort of lost track of time tonight. Can you ever forgive me?" he teased. He didn't go out the taverns very often, maybe once every few months. He'd asked Breonna to go with him a few times, but she'd always said no. She was never quite comfortable among the masses, not like he was. So when he did go, he was always careful, never staying out too late. Tonight was the latest he had ever been out.

"Maybe. I just really wanted you here tonight."

"Oh? Is something wrong, Bre?"

"No…. I…I just…. I'm tired, Alistair. I just wanted you with me tonight."

Alistair frowned into the darkness. She did sound tired. Weary, even. She'd fallen ill with an autumn cold few weeks ago, and while she said she was well again, his wife was a stubborn woman. She hated admitting weakness and was sometimes very good at concealing things.

"Bre, are you all right?" No answer. "Bre?" A note of warning crept into his voice. "I want the truth. Are you okay?"

"I don't feel so good," she said quietly. "I'm tired all the time. I can't…I can't seem to catch up. I just want to sleep."

"You said you were feeling better."

"I was, for a bit," she said in a small voice. "But then I started to feel odd again and didn't want to say anything."

"Damn it all, Bre, don't do that!" He pulled her flush against him. "You don't always have to be strong. If something's not right, you need to tell me."

"I know. I just hate feeling this way. I can't seem to shake it and I didn't want you to worry."

Stubborn, indeed. "I like worrying about you, Bre. It makes me feel useful. Don't hide these things from me." He sighed in exasperation. "We're cancelling all appointments for the next few days and you're going to take it easy."

She shifted slightly, half-turning against him. "Alistair, you can't do that."

"Watch me."

"We have responsibilities. We can't just put them on hold because I'm feeling a little under the weather."

"And Ferelden is not going to fall apart because we don't sit in boring meetings for a week. I'm not asking you, Bre, I'm telling you. And I'm the king, so what I say goes. So there."

Breonna gave a small huff of laughter and he felt her relax a bit. It wasn't that she was opposed to taking breaks or time off, but her sense of responsibility made her hesitant to do so. One of the things he considered a personal duty was making sure she stopped and took some time for herself every so often.

"And," he added, "I'm sending someone to Amaranthine in the morning. I want Anders to take a look at you."

"What? Alistair, no." She fully turned in his embrace. "You can't do that. He's the best healer Anora has."

"Which is exactly why I want him here. Amaranthine's only a couple days away. Anora can spare him for a week or so. Don't argue this with me, Bre, or I'm going to have to pull rank. I'll just say it's a Grey Warden matter and you'll have absolutely no say in it." He dropped a light kiss onto her temple. "Go to sleep, love. I'll be right here."

She nodded and murmured something sleepily, settling into his arms. He ran his fingers through her hair and across her scalp, scratching lightly. That always soothed her and within minutes her breathing was deep and even. In the darkness, Alistair held her, worrying. When he touched her forehead, her skin was cool, not flushed with fever. Her breathing was easy, unlabored. For all appearances, she was fine, but he was no healer. He had no idea what the trouble might be, and he couldn't stop the uncertainty from gnawing at him.

Sleep was a long time in coming.

When morning came, Alistair slipped out of bed without waking Breonna. Normally an early riser, the fact that Breonna was still sleeping soundly spoke volumes about just how tired she was. He pulled on a fresh set of clothes and left their rooms to write the note to Anora and Anders.

Erlina knocked while he was writing, and he waved her in.

"Is her Majesty still in bed?"

"She was when I left. Have a seat Erlina. Let me finish this and then I'd like to talk to you."

"Of course, your Majesty."

Erlina dropped daintily into one the chairs and smoothed her skirts as Alistair finished the short note. He didn't think Anora would deny the request, but he did make sure to ask, politely, instead of simply ordering Anders to Denerim. Setting it off to the side so the ink could dry, he turned to his wife's handmaiden.

"I realize I'm not the most observant man, but did you realize she was still sick? And if so, why didn't you mention it?"

Erlina frowned, a small crease forming between her brows. "I did not know she was still actually sick, no. I merely thought it was taking her longer to recover. As to why I said nothing…." The elf spread her hands. "She hides weakness well. You are her husband. I would have expected her to tell you before anyone else."

Now it was Alistair's turn to frown as he drummed his fingers on his desk. "Sounds like her," he muttered. He leaned back with a sigh. "All right. What I want you to do, for now, is keep her in bed. Make sure she gets some breakfast and is comfortable. I'm going to take care of some things, so I'll be around. If she refuses to stay in bed and tries to get up, come get me."

"Yes, your Majesty." A small smile hovered on Erlina's lips and Alistair exchanged an amused look with her. They both knew how headstrong Breonna could be at times. She disliked inactivity with a passion and the next few days of bed rest Alistair was going to impose would irritate her.

"And don't take anything she says too seriously if she gets mad at you for doing your job."

At that, Erlina's smile widened. "I have served my lady for ten years, your Majesty. I've learned to read her moods quite well and know when not to take something to heart."

Alistair grinned back for a moment before his smile faded. "Have you seen this from her before, Erlina?" he asked seriously. "You've been closer to her for more than twice as long as I've known her. Has this happened before?"

She looked distant for a moment, thinking. "No, not that I can remember, your Majesty. She's had illnesses like everyone else, but this is new."

He nodded. "Just checking." Picking up the note, he saw the ink was dry. As he opened a draw to remove his seal and wax, he said. "I'll get this sent off and let you get back to Breonna." He paused in the act of folding the note so he could seal it. "Thank you, Erlina, for taking care of her."

"No need to thank me, your Majesty. She is dear to me as well. We all care for her." She dipped a quick curtsy and let herself out of the office. Alistair finished with the letter and gave the wax a few more moments to dry before arranging for it to be sent to Amaranthine.

When that was done, he stood looking out the window for a bit. He didn't know whether this was a good thing or not. On one hand, no lingering illness was ever good. It indicated a deeper, more complicated problem than a cold or flu. Although, Breonna had said that she had felt better and then started feeling poorly again. Could she just have come down with something else. But Breonna had never been ill twice in quick succession like this before. That would seem to rule out a recurring problem or some sort of inherent weakness. Maybe this was just a fluke, a rare occurrence that was bound to happen eventually to everyone? He ran a hand through his hair a few times and then rubbed his forehead. He was going to run himself to distraction thinking about a problem he didn't understand or know how to fix.

All he could do was wait for Anders to show up and hope he could find answers. Or better yet, solve the problem. Until then, he would have to try and not obsess over it. Outside the window, the sun shone brightly on a crisp fall day. Alistair hoped the weather would hold, as it would allow his messenger and Anders to travel faster.

With one last sigh, he turned away and set about clearing their calendar for the next week or so.

A guard came to get him around mid-morning the fifth day after he sent for Anders. Alistair went to greet the mage personally. Anders was dismounting in the courtyard, along with the messenger and couple of younger Wardens Alistair didn't know. They turned as the king approached, bowing. Anders, however, busied himself shaking out his robes and frowning.

"Wrinkled! Ugh, and these were so neat this morning." He glared at his horse. "I don't see what's supposed to be so great about these beasts. I'd much prefer to take a carriage."

"You could always ride side-saddle," Alistair quipped.

"Haha. Very funny. Yes, let's all make fun of the mage and his pretty dresses! It's not like I don't already hear enough of that from Oghren."

"Sorry."

Anders waved him off. "No, it's all right. If I'm going to complain about my 'pretty dresses' being wrinkled, I probably shouldn't be too upset when people call me on it." Taking his pack from one of the other Wardens, he slung it over his shoulder and turned towards Alistair. "Lead on, your Majesty."

"You're all set? You don't need to rest or do anything first?"

Shaking his head, Anders walked up the steps beside Alistair. "No. We stopped earlier last night so I could make sure I was ready when I got here. Otherwise we'd have been here last night, but I would have been tired and cranky and not much use to you."

The two men went into the palace and continued through the hallways. "So," Anders said as they walked, "tell me what's been up with her Majesty."

"Hrm." Alistair frowned. "I don't know how much I really know. She got sick a few weeks ago, but it seemed like just a normal cold. She had a cough, was tired and achy, that sort of thing. It seemed like she'd gotten better, but she's apparently been hiding that she was still feeling run-down."

"I see. So just a general sense of lethargy. What about her mental faculties? Any confusion or trouble remembering things?"

"I haven't seen anything like that."

"All right. Is she experiencing any other odd behavior or mood swings?"

"Not that I've noticed. Well, not really."

"Not really?"

"She's been, er, a little…clingy."

"I see. Well, understandable if she's been sick. That doesn't seem very odd. What about appetite? Has she been eating normally?"

Alistair thought, trying to recall all the meals he'd eaten with his wife in recent weeks. "I suppose. Maybe a little less than usual, but I attributed that to her being sick." A frown pulled the corners of his mouth down. "No, that's not quite right. She's been skipping breakfast. It didn't occur to me until just now. Dinner's been fine, but she hasn't been joining me in the mornings."

The thoughtful hum from Anders made him fix the mage with a pointed look. "Is that important?"

"It might be, it might not be. You said she's been tired. Has she just been sleeping through breakfast and then eating when she gets up?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask Erlina. Bre and I often go our own separate ways during the day, so I don't really know. Do you think it's just that?"

Anders nodded. "It could be. Just making sure things aren't wildly different. I'll check with your queen's maid after I examine her. Ah, here we are."

They arrived at the doors to Alistair and Breonna's private suite and a guard opened and held a door for them, closing it behind them once they entered. Alistair walked straight to their bedroom, Anders following close behind.

Breonna was propped up in bed when they entered. An open book in her lap lay in her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Instead, she was looking out the window on the far side of the room, drumming her fingers on the duvet. One look at her mutinous face told Alistair she wasn't any happier about being confined to bed rest now than when he first imposed it. That she was still in bed, however, and not actually up and about, said more clearly than words how she really was feeling.

"Ah, your Majesty," came Anders's smooth voice from behind him. "You're looking as lovely as ever."

Breonna's lips twitched slightly. "You know, Anders, it's not like I'm going to have your head if you don't flatter me. I'm well aware of how not-lovely I look at the moment. And call me Breonna, please."

"Nonsense, and with pleasure." Anders moved forward, past Alistair, and dropped his pack on the bed. He seated himself on the edge of the bed, facing her. Picking up her right hand from where it lay on the bed, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Besides, only a fool would deny how beautiful you are right now. Relaxed, lying in bed…."

Alistair cleared his throat loudly and Anders swiveled around to look at him. He raised a brow. "I am right here."

"Why, so you are! And I should probably get started doing my mage-y things, shouldn't I?"

"Yes. You should."

"Right, then. Moving on." Anders turned back to Breonna. "You shouldn't feel much of anything, Breonna. I'm just going to use my magic to see what I can find, if anything." He lifted his hands to lay them on Breonna's head, but paused as Alistair moved up to the foot of the bed, crossing his arms and leaning against the bedpost. He turned around to face Alistair.

"Must you do that? It's bad enough that Anora has templar skills, but having a fully-trained templar glaring at me, a mage, as I go to lay hands on his wife and use magic on her is a bit…unsettling."

Alistair grinned wolfishly. "I'm afraid I can't do anything about that. But the sooner you're done, the sooner I stop acting like a templar."

Anders gave an annoyed huff and turned back to Breonna. Laying his hands on her head, his eyes closed and he whispered the words to the spell.

Long minutes passed as Anders continued his examination. Alistair's grin had dropped when Anders turned back around. He wasn't nearly as relaxed as he was pretending to be. He could feel the thrum of magic as Anders called forth his power and resisted the training drummed into him by over a decade of Chantry upbringing. What Anders was doing was helping his wife and smiting the mage, as cocky as he could be, wouldn't do anyone any good.

He watched Breonna as Anders continued to check her. Her eyes were trained on Anders's face as the mage moved his hands from her head to her neck. Alistair fought an instinctual, possessive urge to puul Anders away as he moved his hands lower to her chest and then her stomach and lower abdomen. But the mage remained professional, long-fingered hands resting lightly on her body without any inappropriate movements.

Finally, Anders sat back. "Hmm," he hummed slightly to himself.

"What?" Alistair asked. "What is it?"

"Well, Breonna was sick. But you're right, it was a simple cold that hung on a little longer than normal. Nothing to worry about there. It's the new development that has me intrigued. If I were you, I'd run screaming back to the tower."

Breonna paled slightly, her eyes widening, and Alistair felt his gut clench with a sick feeling. He stood straight, arms falling to his side and he took a couple steps closer to Anders and Breonna. "What is it?" he asked hoarsely. "What's wrong?"

Anders's eyebrows rose and he looked thoroughly bemused at the expressions on their faces. "My goodness. You've certainly been conditioned to anticipate the worst, haven't you?"

"Anders!" The warning was clear in Alistair's voice. He was in no mood for games right now. The mage immediately looked contrite. Slightly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. No, nothing's wrong." He looked back and forth between the two of them and grinned.

"Congratulations, your Majesties. You're going to be parents."