A short time later, Nessa went down the stairs and back to her rooms, and Zevran took off to do… whatever it was that Zevran did in his spare time. Nessa wasn't sure what that might be. Swindling more guardsmen at cards, perhaps? Or seducing them, more likely. He had always been rather… omnivorous. Honestly, she told herself firmly, she didn't want to know and the less she thought about it the better.

As part of the Cousland family, Nessa merited a suite of rooms in the palace, rather than being relegated to the Warden compound down in the market district. That turned out to be for the best; while the building itself was still standing after the Archdemon's attack, much of the surrounding area was not. She'd offered it to the crown for use as refugee housing, and now it was packed to the rafters with merchants and tradesmen and their families.

Living in the palace was no hardship; Nessa had a sitting room with a separate bedchamber in the south wing, lit by tall narrow windows. There was even a small closet to serve as a maid's sleeping chamber, though Nessa didn't have a maid. She'd had a girl at Highever to look after her clothes and tidy her room, but Elan had also had other duties around the castle as well. While some Ferelden noblewomen kept ladies in waiting, Nessa's mother had always called it a pretentious fashion. Nessa herself had always been more interested in playing outdoors and running after Fergus than in clothes and gossip anyway. And now… she'd spent so long putting up her own tent and bathing in whatever reasonably clean water she could find — when she was lucky enough to find it — that paying someone to hover around to put away her clothes and brush her hair seemed ridiculously extravagant.

Nessa changed into something she could actually move in, then spread the entire contents of her clothes chest across the bed. She was sifting through the pile — really, an appalling number of her shirts had tears in the cuffs — when she heard a knock at the door.

When she opened it, there stood the queen, flanked by two of her guard.

"Your Majesty," Nessa said, and dropped a curtsy. The formality was at odds with her unconventional outfit of stained leggings and a baggy swordsmen's shirt — also with torn cuffs — but Anora hardly blinked.

"Are you free?" she asked.

"Of course," Nessa said, and stood back to allow her to enter. Anora motioned for her guards to stay out in the hallway and swept into the room. Another flick of her fingers and the door was gently closed behind her.

Anora was a striking woman; slender and graceful with fine features and a generous fall of wheat-colored hair. She greatly favored her mother, but Nessa could see traces of her father in the sharpness of her pale blue eyes and the determined set to her mouth.

"I apologize for the mess, Your Majesty," she began, moving to close the bedroom door.

"It's Anora when we're alone; don't make me remind you," said the queen, softening her words with a smile as she sat in the chair Nessa indicated. "I see you're packing already. Are you so eager to leave?"

Nessa grimaced. "Yes and no?" Since Anora had made it clear they weren't standing on ceremony, she dropped into a nearby armchair and tucked up her knees. "I'm looking forward to getting out on the road again. I can only sit through so many formal dinners without wanting to stab people."

Anora gave her a tolerant smile. "You never did have much patience with palace life."

"All that who-sits-before-whom and what-fork-to-use and don't-say-anything-interesting-for-fear-of-offendi ng-Lady-Horseface... I don't know how you manage to do it every day." She tightened her arms around her knees. "But going home… no, I wouldn't say I'm looking forward to it."

"It will be a difficult trip," said Anora.

"We don't even know if the keep is still standing. Though I suppose it should be; it's survived wars before this one." Nessa dropped her head to rest it on her knees. After a moment, she added abruptly, "I wish killing Rendon Howe had made me feel better. It was intensely satisfying in the moment, and he was a vile man who deserved what he got. All the same… it doesn't really change anything, in the end. My parents are still just as dead."

After a moment of silence, she sat back upright and put her feet on the floor. "Sorry. All the talk of going home has brought everything back. And I didn't offer you anything to drink. I have sherry, or I could send for tea?"

Anora shook her head. "No, thank you."

"Do you mind if I…?" she asked, standing up.

"Go right ahead."

Nessa moved to the sideboard, bending down to pull out a single glass and a half-empty bottle.

"On the other hand," she said as she poured, "poor Fergus didn't even have the satisfaction of revenge. Even if I don't want to go back, it isn't fair to make him face it alone." She re-corked the bottle with a thump and stowed it back in the cabinet.

"The truth is," Anora said when Nessa had straightened up again, "I came to ask you to consider keeping your visit to Highever as short as possible. Or if you're looking for an excuse not to go, I could give you one."

Nessa blinked in surprise, her glass hovering halfway to her mouth.

"Of course Fergus wants to see to Highever," Anora said. "It's a tragedy that he had to come into his inheritance so soon, but it is no surprise that he takes the responsibility so seriously. Naturally he wants you with him; we've all lost so much in this past year."

Nessa frowned.

"I've given leave for you to go," Anora continued, "and you should do what you think is best. I simply…" She looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "I feel better having you here."

Nessa resumed her seat, and sipped her sherry instead of speaking. She had known Anora for a long time; the children of most of Ferelden's nobles had come to Denerim with their parents every summer for the Landsmeet. Anora had been closer to Fergus' age, and better behaved than the rest — or at least better at not getting caught — but she had a lively mind and a devious dry sense of humor. Nessa had always admired her. The older girl had helped her out of a few awkward scrapes, and she'd come to consider her a friend. Even so… the future queen had always been far more likely to exploit other people's weaknesses than to admit to any of her own.

"You put me back on the throne," Anora said, bringing Nessa back into the present. "Your presence here serves as an endorsement and a reminder. As hard as I've worked to keep my place here, I never would have been successful against Eamon's plans for Alistair without your help."

Nessa stiffened, then tried to cover it with another gulp of sherry. Anora was back to other people's weaknesses after all.

"Sometimes I regret granting your request," she said quietly. "My place here would be much more secure if he were entirely gone."

There wasn't much Nessa could say to this, so she kept her mouth shut.

"But what's done is done," Anora said. "I just wish I had more than my marriage to Cailan to back up my claims. My father…"

"I'm sorry about what happened to Loghain," Nessa began roughly. She'd apologized before — more than once — but it never felt like enough. What could you possibly say when you'd sent a friend's father to his death? No matter how much he might have deserved it.

"Nonsense," Anora said crisply. "It was the best possible outcome of a terrible situation." She leaned forward and placed a hand on Nessa's knee. "He died saving his country, rather than as a traitor. It was a noble end. I shall always be thankful." She stood up smoothly, and moved toward the window. "It may well be the only thing keeping me alive at the moment."

"What do you mean?" Nessa asked.

"I've had letters… of the threatening variety. My rooms have been tampered with, and there have been some gaps in security that the Guard Captain has been unable to account for. I trust Cauthrien with my life; but half of the Guard are new recruits. We haven't had the time or the resources to check up on them all as closely as we should." Anora pressed a hand to her forehead. "I know to some degree this is to be expected. We lost so many to the blight and the war, and my father made grievous errors. Many people don't trust me, in spite of everything I've done — before Cailan's death and after."

She turned away from the window and sighed. "I'm finding myself in a position I never dreamed possible… wishing that all his philandering had actually led to a child. No matter who the mother was, at least a child would have Theirin blood. I would be accepted more readily as a regent."

"Or as consort to a Theirin," Nessa added without really meaning to.

"Or as consort to a Theirin," Anora agreed. In a softer voice, she asked, "Do you miss him?"

Nessa picked at the hem of the too-large shirt she wore. "Yes," she admitted. She drained the remainder of her glass and gave the queen a shaky smile. "At the same time… if he were here now I'd probably strangle him myself."

One corner of Anora's mouth lifted in an almost-smile. "I feel exactly the same about his brother. Do you think it runs in the family?"

Unnerved by the queen's visit, Nessa had spent some time staring into space before realizing with a start that the shadows had been growing steadily longer and sunset was not far away. It was past time to get ready for dinner. Usually Nessa did her best to spend her evenings on patrol so she could avoid the formal palace dinners. But with the search for darkspawn stragglers officially ended and her stay in Denerim coming to a close, she didn't have a plausible excuse tonight. She hurriedly cleared the clothes off her bed, struggled back into her saffron-colored gown, re-braided her hair so it was at least tidy if not elegant, and hurried down the steps to the entrance hall.

As she scanned the room for her brother, she noticed an auburn-haired woman in a crimson mage's robe. The woman stepped forward and bowed.

"Petra, isn't it?" Nessa asked. "We met in the Tower – you were minding the apprentices."

"Yes, Warden. I am honored that you would remember."

"I thought the mage contingent had already left for home?"

"They have, except for the three of us," said Petra, waving a hand to indicate the two Templars standing some distance behind her. "The queen requested that the Circle leave a representative here in the palace. I believe I have you to thank for that," she said warmly.

"All Wynne's doing, I'm afraid – I only said I agreed it was a good idea," said Nessa. "You must be quite powerful to merit two Templars of your very own."

Petra didn't quite roll her eyes. "Very average, I assure you. They're just here to make the Grand Cleric feel better. Two of them means they can watch around the clock."

"So it's politics. A necessary evil in Denerim, I suppose. Speaking of necessary evil... I've got to find my brother. It was nice to see you again."

Nessa continued her scan of the room. Ahh, there was Fergus, waiting impatiently and looking every inch the important man he had become in the wake of their father's death. She had to admit he was handsome — tall, strong featured, and wearing a dark blue doublet that emphasized the color of his eyes. He would have been more handsome still had his expression not been so very grim. He caught sight of Nessa as she arrived and frowned. She nodded to let him know she was on her way… and walked straight into a pretty young woman garbed in a ferocious shade of orange. She groaned inwardly, but smiled politely.

"Sorry Habren! I'm late to meet Fergus and wasn't looking. That's, um, quite a dress you've got there."

And it was; the gown was well made and designed to make the most of Habren's figure. It must have been very expensive. It was interesting that Arl Bryland was willing to spend so much coin on fripperies for his daughters when there was widespread concern about how they were going to keep everyone fed next winter. But his daughters always had been on the spoiled side.

It was a pity about the color, though.

Habren sniffed. "I see all that running around waving a sword hasn't made you any less clumsy."

Her younger sister Maive smiled apologetically. "Hello Nessa." She glanced casually over Nessa's shoulder and added, "I don't see Zevran with you. Won't he be here this evening?"

Habren interjected before Nessa could reply. "Maive is developing a thing for Zevran. He's handsome enough, I guess, if you're interested in elves." Her sneer made her own thoughts clear on that particular topic.

"I don't have a thing!" Maive squeaked. "I just… he's very nice! And he tells interesting stories. I like to talk to him, that's all!"

Nessa made a mental note to urge Zevran to steer clear. Not that she cared what he did with his recreation time, of course, but Arl Bryland's daughters were nothing but trouble. Bryland had married a pretty, vain, and grasping sort of woman, and she'd passed on as much personality as looks down to her daughters. Habren had a downright nasty streak; if she thought Maive was involved with an elf, she'd make sure their father found out. Nessa didn't much care what happened to Maive, but it could make things awkward for Zevran.

"I don't know where he is tonight," she said. "Fortunately, it's not my job to keep track of him." She took a few steps backward. "I imagine he's out in town somewhere. Maybe the Pearl?"

Maive looked stricken and Habren appalled. That should shut them up, Nessa thought with satisfaction. If she was going to have an unpleasant night, Maive could too.

"Fergus is waiting," she continued, "so I really do have to go."

Habren looked over to where Fergus was standing against a pillar. He was politely pretending to listen to the elderly woman next to him, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

"Maybe we should go with you," she suggested, patting her hair into place. "Poor Fergus looks like he needs rescuing, the dear."

Nessa's eyebrows shot up at the idea of anyone calling Fergus a 'dear' when he was wearing that particular expression. "I… don't think that's a great idea, actually. He looks really cranky, doesn't he? You might be better off waiting until after he's had something to eat."

Habren took another look. "Maybe you're right. We'll see you later then."

"Great," Nessa said weakly. "See you later."

"What took you so long?" Fergus asked when she finally managed to thread her way through the crowd. Nessa gestured expressively towards the mass of nobles, tradesmen, and servants filling the hall.

"I meant before that," he said.

"I lost track of time. The queen came to see me this afternoon. She — well, she invited me to stay here in Denerim instead of going to Highever. I told her I needed to go with you," she finished hastily, when Fergus' frown threatened to deepen into a scowl. "But it changed my afternoon around a bit."

"Let's not waste any more time then," he said shortly, and led the way towards the great double doors.

Each group that entered the room was officially announced, then escorted to the dais at the far end of the room to be formally greeted by the queen. Fergus' bow seemed particularly crisp this evening, Nessa noticed. That was probably her fault. Anora saw it too, of course — she was almost as annoying as Zevran when it came to picking up every tiny nuance. But she didn't respond in kind; if anything, her greeting was warmer than it might otherwise have been.

Afterwards, they moved toward the table where the other nobles had mostly already gathered. Many of them were clustered together, speaking in low tones.

"The poor woman can hardly be expected to manage everything alone," Bann Loren was saying. "Blighted fields, the city in ruins… But with all that we've lost, there are still enough eligible men of good blood —"

"Including yourself among that number, no doubt?" interrupted Bann Ceorlic with a sardonic smile.

"If Eamon were here, he'd make her see reason," said Arl Bryland. "It's far too big a job for a young lady, and there ought to be an heir. I agree with you there, Loren."

Nessa hated these dinners. Politics and disaster, that's all anyone ever wanted to talk about. After ten minutes of nodding politely while staunchly trying not to listen, she began to maneuver her way into a more hospitable seating arrangement. Eventually, she managed to coax Bann Alfstanna into switching places with her so she could sit farther down the table. By that time, Fergus was so deep in conversation with Arl Wulff about the restoration efforts at West Hills that he could barely be bothered to frown vaguely at her when she left.

Bann Teagan gave her a faint smile over his wineglass as she slid in next to him with a groan of relief.

"I thought I'd never get away from the marriage question and the endless crop restoration debate," she said. "Round and round about whether to let the Blighted fields lie fallow or to try enriching them with any number of unpleasant substances. I know it's important, but fertilizer hardly seems like dinner conversation." She wrinkled her nose.

Teagan chuckled quietly.

"Though I guess you have the same problem at Rainesfere, don't you?" she asked. "Orchards, isn't it? No wonder you look exhausted."

"It isn't… well, I suppose it is that, in a manner of speaking." He sighed. "I'll see when I get down there. I've had a letter from Eamon — he's finally well enough to come back to court himself. So I'll be off to look over my lands and deal with the mess as soon as he can get settled in. It should be just a few more days."

Nessa nodded. "You don't look at all happy to be going home. I can't blame you; I'm not either."

"I imagine you're not, under the circumstances," he said. "You're right though — I've no idea what to expect. Reports have been few… and these days, what news is good news?" He finished off the rest of his wine and leaned back to signal the steward to refill his glass. When the man had gone, he stared moodily at his plate, making no effort to continue their conversation.

Nessa fidgeted with her fork. So much for maneuvering her way into better company. Teagan was usually good for a story, or a smile at least, but tonight he was far from his usual gallant self. She wondered if it was just worry for Rainesfere that troubled him; but while she'd always liked Teagan, she didn't really know him well enough to pry.

She pushed the roast duck around her plate and wished that Zevran had come to dinner after all. He'd never have been seated at the high table, of course, but he was sure to get up to something entertaining, and she could at least have talked to him for a while. Better yet, she wished she'd have been able to go along to wherever he'd ended up, and avoided this whole palace dinner altogether.