UPDATED

The chapter 2 edit was less extensive, as it is one of the chapters I'm happier with. There was very little expansion to be made, but I liked the changes.


Gwendolyn decided to abandon Alistair in the main hall, and head straight to her room as she intended to change out of her riding leathers before breakfast. That was only half of her reasoning, however, as she felt uncomfortable around him. She understood completely that her place would never be in his heart, but she fully believed that she would find room in her heart for him, if only to be a good Queen for him and for Ferelden.

She remembered all the years her mother had tried to force proper etiquette down her throat in hopes that even though she was some years younger than Cailan would be a suitable candidate for his bride. Her father had known better, seeing all along that Maric and Loghain had arranged for Cailan to marry Anora. Some of it had stuck with her, and Gwendolyn tried to remember it all. Never follow too closely, her mother would say, the nobles will get the wrong idea. You wouldn't want them thinking you were just some wanton lover.

These were her thoughts as she passed several of Eamon's servants, still tending to the castle's minor wounds and dust that had gathered since the Darkspawn attack. Many looked upon her knowingly, as if what she was to become had been clearer to them before she even knew it herself. Three days she had rode with Bann Teagan, and only on the third day did he tell her why Eamon asked her to Denerim.

She told him then, even before they had arrived, that this was acceptable. Perhaps she had known all along that this was the Arl's intention. Why would Teagan take her to Denerim and not Highever? It had long puzzled her, and then he had presented her with the answer.

She passed into her room quickly and pulled the door closed behind her. Gwendolyn began to untie the straps of her leather riding suit, and a long held ritual stemming from her time among Chantry sisters, she began to pray.

Oh Maker, hear my cry.

Guide me through the blackest of nights.

Steel my heart from the temptations of the wicked.

Make me rest in the warmest of places.

She dropped her leather to the floor after removing her boots, and made quick strides toward her dresser as she continued to pray from the Transfigurations. Each verse silently passed through her mind as she brought a solid red dress over her head, flattening it against her body and pulling free any fabric that got caught on its way over her.

"Oh Maker, hear my cry. Seat me by your side in death. Make me one with your glory, and let the world once more seek your approval. For you are the fire in the heart of the world, and comfort is only yours to give." Gwendolyn finished her prayer allowed as she approached a small vanity near the corner of her room.

For a moment, she regarded herself, her dark skin, her dark eyes, and her ungodly long hair. Her fingers reached up to gently pet a small pendant which hung from a now visible golden chain. It was a golden symbol of Andraste's Flame, which she had received from the man she loved nearly two years ago. It had been his promise to her that he would one day be worthy of her. Perhaps now, if he had survived the attack on Highever Castle, or rather the torture he received after protecting her, they could have been married… And she would never have had to come and meet the man downstairs.

Gwendolyn let the pendant fall outside of the confines of dress, and the symbol glittered in the dim candlelight. Her hands reached up to untie her hair, and her fingers immediately went to work combing through it and flattening it as best they could. With a soft sigh, she turned away from the mirror and sat down to pull on a small pair of slippers. She did not feel like putting her boots on underneath a dress.

Her prayer seemed to work, as Gwendolyn's mind felt free of some of the weight that had been upon it since she had arrived the day before. She felt some sense of focus as she entered the dining hall. The only seat left open was near Alistair, but she had expected this. Only a brief pause in the door way separated her entrance from taking the seat beside her future husband.

When he watched her approach the table, Alistair immediately noticed the pendant around her neck. It was the same symbol as his mother's amulet, which he still wore close to his chest beneath his armor. It seemed important to her, and this was only made clearer as she sat down next to him and fingered the pendant, as if to make sure it was still there.

She looked a lot more proper with her hair down and wearing that plain red dress. It was obvious that she was not a fan of the dresses that most Ferelden nobles wore, and much preferred the flowing fabric of the same style she wore. Gwendolyn raised her gaze from her pendant, and looked to Alistair. They exchanged glances during a hushed silence, one that dispersed as breakfast began.

Cian weaved in between chairs, sniffing out anything that might have gotten dropped. He seemed most fond of Connor out of everyone at the table, but maybe that was because the boy was the most eager to sneak something off his plate to the hound. Gwendolyn seemed aware of this, but she did not scold her Mabari. She simply grinned and watched him lick Connor's hand every time a crunchy piece of bacon was dropped to the floor when Eamon wasn't looking.

She did her best to make idle conversation with Alistair, if only to make the conversation that would come after breakfast less awkward. Once they were all done eating, she knew Eamon would ask her and Alistair into his office to make arrangements for their wedding. It was inevitable, and the sooner it was done, the better for Ferelden.

"Did someone from your family give you that necklace?" Alistair asked, motioning to the pendant around Gwendolyn's neck.

"Ah.. No, actually. Ser Roland Gilmore, one of my father's knights.. He gave it to me."

"I'm guessing he was more than just one of the Knights…" Alistair stopped himself short, trying not to assume too much.

"You're right. He wasn't just one of the Knights." Gwendolyn sighed sadly, reaching up to touch the pendant again. "I'll tell you another time. The table isn't the right place to discuss it."

"My mother had a really similar pendant. When she died, it was given to me. I broke it when I was ten years old, because of some silly things, but the Arl fixed it for me. The Hero of Ferelden found it in Redcliffe Castle and gave it to me before we left."

"At least you got it back, for the memories. That's why I still wear this one, to remember him by."

He nodded understandingly, and let the conversation die with his last mouthful of sausage. He did not want to press the subject any farther, believing in her earlier statement that it wasn't a proper subject to talk about over breakfast.

Eamon's office felt different. Maybe it was because it was Gwendolyn that walked with them instead of Linara, or perhaps it was the lack of Anora's presence off to the side. Whatever it was, Alistair couldn't will himself to stand still. Gwendolyn, however, seemed to stand off to the side like a statue. He wondered how she could manage it, as he was very sure that she wanted this as little as he did.

"For Ferelden's sake, the wedding should be as soon as possible. Your coronation would take place at the end of the ceremony, Gwendolyn, as it always has… I can try to have it arranged within the month," Eamon scanned the pair of them, looking for some sign. He must have found it in Alistair, who blinked in disbelief.

"Within the month? Isn't that too soon?"

"The sooner the better, I'm afraid. Anora holds the title of Queen until a woman better suited to the crown would marry you, and then Ferelden and the Chantry have every right to remove her from that seat. Solving this problem quickly will decrease any chances of her gaining more supporters in the Landsmeet than you, even now that the Blight is finished," The Arl practically scolded him, and like a child, Alistair looked away and grumbled.

"He's right, Alistair. Anora doesn't take kind to losing anything, least of all the crown. If anything, marrying… marrying me faster would convince her of your seriousness, and maybe even gain her support if we take it easy on her." Gwendolyn turned to look at him.

Alistair returned the glance, noting that she was just as serious about this as Eamon. He could see in her eyes, however, that she was indecisive and uncomfortable. He sighed, knowing that the road before them would probably be a bumpy one with lots of crying and grief and finding peace together, like a King and Queen were supposed to do together anyway.

"And what is taking it easy on her, Gwendolyn? Saying, 'oh, I'm sorry, but you aren't good enough to be Queen anymore. Here's a considerably less fancy title to make up for it!' I think that would work perfectly," Alistair returned sarcastically.

"Actually," His future Queen stifled a chuckle," I think that would be a lot nicer than anything else you could do. Give her the lands of her father, at the very very least. She served Ferelden well, and was a good Queen in her day…Unless you would rather follow in your brother's footsteps and marry her?"

"No! No, no no! I told Eamon before the Landsmeet that I wouldn't even look at her if I could help it, yet alone marry her. That's why you're here in the first place. If I had wanted to be anything like Calian, I probably would have married her as soon as the Blight was done."

"Point taken," Gwendolyn conceded," It wasn't my place to challenge you like that so forwardly. Forgive me."

Eamon looked between them as the lady's remark brought the conversation to an idle. He sighed, and with a clearing of his throat, brought the conversation back on topic.

"If you would like to return with Alistair to the palace, I can have your things packed up and brought to you by the end of the day. I'll send a seamstress after you tomorrow to take your measurements and prepare your wedding gown."

"There's just one thing that I don't want to get touched or moved around, so I'll take it with me. I'll be right back… Meet you downstairs, Alistair."

Gwendolyn happily took the chance to get out of the room, and as Alistair watched her go, he had a distinct feeling that the next few weeks would be interesting ones.

Eamon walked with him down into the main hall, trying to console him as best as he could. He told him that it was best for Ferelden, and that he would learn to love her at some point. Alistair could hardly believe that, but had he learned to love Linara during all that time gathering an army and fighting the Darkspawn? He didn't want to think of it like that, and he quickly changed the conversation.

Rather than listen to Eamon try and make things better for him, he simply asked questions about Gwendolyn that he hoped Eamon could answer. Turned out that Teagan knew her better than Eamon could ever hope for, and it was he that chimed in and answered Alistair's mix match of questions.

"So.. Teagan, I hope you can tell me something about her other than where she came from.." Alistair turned away from Eamon to look at the Arl's younger brother.

Teagan nodded," We talked for most of the ride to Denerim. I could probably tell you most of the little things you'd like to know about her. Favorite Color? Red, beyond a doubt. She's devoutly religious, but that probably has something to do with her time at the Chantry over the past year. I don't think I've ever heard a woman pray so much in my life."

Alistair blinked and looked up the stairs, as if to make sure Gwendolyn wasn't yet on the return. When he didn't see her, he asked yet another question.

"Did she love anyone, before she came here?"

"Well, I'm told by the Reverend Mother that one of the Templars there took an incredible liking to her, and was originally stationed to protect her in case Arl Howe's men came as far as Rainesfere looking for her. She feared that he had broken his vows for her, but it could never be proven. He left the Chantry himself shortly before we came to Denerim."

Alistair took that as confirmation that something had happened between Gwendolyn and this Templar, and he gave the man credit for deciding to abandon the Chantry on his own. The Lyrium withdrawal would be terrible, but at least he chose it rather than being forced into it.

Gwendolyn came down the stairs with a moderately sized vase in her arms, lidded tightly and seemingly very precious. Even when her Mabari came close, she held onto it tighter like she was afraid she would fall and break it. Alistair wondered what was inside it. She didn't seem like the one to worry about a piece of pottery.

"Okay," She began as she came to stand next to him, " I'm ready to go."

Eamon and Teagan said their good-byes, and Alistair walked outside with Gwendolyn to meet his guards. The head of them bowed to the latter in greeting.

"Good to meet you, your ladyship. We will leave as soon as your knight comes out of the stables with your horse."

"My.. Knight?" Gwendolyn blinked at him, a little confused.

"Yes, Lady Gwendolyn. He came in from the marketplace with something to help your horse calm down shortly after you went inside with the King."

"Huh… Alistair, could you hold this? Please be very careful."

Gwendolyn passed the vase to Alistair carefully, and when he took it into his hands, he found it remarkably light.

"Sure.. Uh.. What is it?"

"Ashes."

She went into the stable without so much as another word, but she didn't need to say anything more. Her words were enough to convince Alistair to be -very- careful with the vase. He was, however, just as confused about this Knight showing up as she was. Part of him wondered if the Templar that had guarded her in Rainesfere decided to follow her even here.

Cian ran into the stables ahead of his mistress, barking excitedly. It seemed like the hound knew exactly who was in there, and was very happy and eager to see them. This made his mistress nervous, and as Gwendolyn opened the door, she heard someone speaking to her hound.

"Hello, Cian. You sure seem happy to see me," a man laughed. She knew that voice.

"Leland?.."

Cian leapt out of her horse's stall, barking in response to his mistress' inquiry. She was for once, not happy to hear that positive response. A tall, black haired man followed the hound out of the stall, slowly leading Gwendolyn's horse out. He looked up from the hound and smiled briefly at her.

"You look well."

"Leland Ramsey! Are you crazy? Why did you tell them you were my Knight?" She scolded him as quietly as she could.

Without a doubt, this Leland Ramsey was handsome. His impressively angular jawline established this in stone. His skin was a dark shade of tan, likely from all of his days spent out on patrol. His armor was of a pitiful mix, some splint mail and some plate. She could not wonder any longer why the guards had probably questioned his motives for being there, but even so, she couldn't forgive him for calling himself her Knight. The last man to be a Knight under her service died an agonizing death, and truly, all she wanted was to be free of Knights in general. Especially tall, handsome ones.

His grey eyes glittered at her," Come on now, you already know the reason to that. They wouldn't let me see you if I had said anything else. I'm sure they wouldn't have liked hearing that the Templar that guarded you back at Bann Teagan's lands gave up Lyrium and followed you all the way out here. They probably would have killed me 'out of mercy'."

"Don't talk like that, Leland."

"Fine, point taken that it was a little morbid. If you want me to leave, I'll take your horse to the palace and disappear.. I swear on the Maker. I just wanted to see if you were serious about this." He came up beside her with the horse, towering over her as he always had.

"Serious about marrying the King?"

"Yeah. That."

"I have no choice." "There is always a choice, Gwen. You were the one that told me that."

"Yeah, in your case there was. You wanted out in the first place. I have to do this… I wish you could understand that," She tried to take the reins from him, but he held them over his head and out of her reach.

"Very well, your Majesty. Lets just get you to the palace, and we'll talk more when we stand less of a chance of being overheard."

They emerged from the stables with Cian squeezing out ahead of them. He was clearly trying to keep his distance from the horse, still very mindful of his mistress' earlier scolding. Alistair watched the man who emerged from the stables with Gwendolyn, and he seemed to know almost instantly that this was indeed the Templar Teagan had spoken of before. He could tell a Templar just by looking at them, even if they weren't wearing their armor. That training takes it's toll on you, and he saw it in this newcomer.

Leland watched Gwendolyn carefully, like the ever present guardian. However, Alistair saw something in the man's eyes that he had often looked upon Linara with. There was love in his eyes, mindfulness of her every move, but then there was something else. Envy. Maker's breath, was there envy in his eyes. Why he would envy the woman, Alistair wouldn't know for a long time.

"Alistair, this is Leland Ramsey. He guarded me when I was in Rainesfere."

Gwendolyn's introduction confirmed it, and shortly after Alistair handed her the vase, Leland took his arm in greeting, bowing low afterwards.

"I am honored to meet you, your Majesty."

The King nodded to him and tried to be reasonable. There was no reason for him to be jealous of the man after all.

"Hello, Leland. Will you be staying at the Palace as well?"

"I don't believe so. I don't wish to be any trouble to the lady than I already have been."

"Lets go then, hm?" Gwendolyn ushered the guards along, standing beside Alistair. She did her best not to be next to Leland.

Behind the guards, Gwendolyn, and Alistair, Leland led the lady's horse along. He watched her idly chat with the King, doing her best to slowly introduce herself into his life even before they were passed the gates. She was a noble woman, this he knew well, but he had never seen it as clearly as he did in that moment. She carried herself so well, grace in each and every step that she took on their way to the palace.

They talked of the Hero Of Ferelden in brief passing, of how much Denerim would be changing over the next few months. She told him of her upbringing in Highever and discussed returning at some point. The King seemed eager to go with her. It had something to do with a Grey Warden who had passed away at the battle of Ostagar. Slowly, their uncertain, straight lined mouths turned into pleasant smiles. Change had already swept over the woman he loved, turning her into a creature he could not recognize.

Already, Gwendolyn Cousland was proving herself an excellent candidate to be Queen.