Chapter Three

In all, it took Anders almost a month and a half before he returned with Rhayne. Alistair had expected the mage to be gone about three weeks—a little more than a week's travel to and from the tower, plus a few days to put things in order before they departed. When the third week passed, he wasn't concerned. When the fourth week also ended, he began to get fidgety. By the time the fifth week passed, he was downright anxious. It should not be taking Anders this long to fetch a single mage from the tower

Breonna counseled patience and Alistair struggled to heed her advice. It was hard for him to express his concerns about her when she, the one actually carrying their child, was so calm about. He was beginning to think pregnancy had made her a little too complacent.

"Give him another week, Alistair," she said at dinner one night. "I'm sure if anything is truly wrong, either he or Irving would have sent word to us."

"Not if he doesn't know. Not if they're laying in a shallow grave somewhere," he muttered.

Breonna frowned, slim brows pulling together. "Why would you even think that? Darkspawn sightings grow more infrequent with each passing year, trade has increased and the roads and highways are well-traveled and safer than they've been in a long time. And they're both mages. Very powerful mages, I might add. What danger could they possibly encounter?"

"Templars."

"Oh," she said quietly. "But Anders is a Warden and Rhayne is coming here on official business."

"That didn't stop Rylock."

Breonna worried at her lower lip with her teeth. "Still, one more week won't make much of a difference. They're either all right and will be here eventually, or they're not and there's nothing you can do about it."

Alistair grunted, wanting to argue that point, but refraining. He agreed, reluctantly, to give Anders one more week before dispatching a swift rider to Kinloch Hold for answers.

Anders arrived with two days left before the time limit expired. He walked into the sitting room Alistair and Breonna were occupying. They were enjoying a lazy afternoon, ensconced together on a couch, reading books. Breonna was propped against his side, and Alistair was enjoying the feel of her pressed against him, one hand resting possessively on the slight swell of her belly.

"Finally!" Alistair exclaimed, he and Breonna both sitting up. "What took you so long?"

"Politics," Anders said in disgust. Alistair extended his arm and Anders grasped it in a brief greeting. He looked past Alistair to give Breonna a smile, and then beckoned through the open door. At his gesture, another mage entered the room.

"Your Majesties, might I introduce Rhayne Amell?"

She was of medium height, and her mage robes accentuated her curves. Straight black hair fell down her back, and her bright blue eyes were alert and focused. Slim eyebrows, high cheekbones and a sweetly curving mouth completed the package.

Alistair gave Anders a knowing look. "Are you sure you recommended her for her healing skills?"

"Alistair, I'm shocked!" Anders sputtered in mock indignation while Rhayne laughed merrily.

"Oh, please, Anders. Like anyone here doesn't know about you and women." She turned to Alistair and Breonna, dipping her head respectfully. "Your Majesties, I apologize for the delay. It's partly my fault. I had some things to finish up before I could leave the tower for so long. That took several days. And then once I was ready…." She cast a questioning glance at Anders, who nodded for her to go on.

"Then I had to wait for permission to leave the tower, especially for so long. Knight-Commander Greagoir's health hasn't been the best lately, so he relies heavily on his assistant—and probable replacement—a templar by the name of Cullen."

"Cullen?" Alistair asked. "Why do I know that name?" Frowning, he thought back. "Wait, wasn't he in the tower when everything happened? The one Uldred tortured?" Rhayne nodded and Alistair's frown deepened. "He's Greagoir's replacement? Really? He didn't seem…."

"Stable?" Anders supplied. "Sane? With it? Present in reality? Personally, I think they all apply. And that worries me. A templar like that in charge of the tower?" He shuddered. "That doesn't bode well for the mages."

Alistair frowned. All his years of templar training had never managed to convince him that mages should be treated as they were. His brief time in the tower had only deepened his sympathy to their plight. If Cullen, as he was now, was put in charge of the tower, it would indeed be dark times for the mages.

The silent plea in both Anders's and Rhayne's eyes was clear, but he wasn't sure how much he could do. He shook his head in frustration. "I'm sorry, I truly am. I can try to help by suggesting some things, but I don't know how much weight it will carry. The chantry and the circle are in charge of the tower, and I have no authority to force changes, even as much as I think more freedom for mages would benefit everyone. Let me get some of my advisors to look into what I can do. In the meantime, if it gets really bad, I could ask Anora to increase the number of Grey Warden mages."

"She's already mentioned that," Anders replied quietly. "But we both know it's not an ideal solution." He blew out a long breath and then clapped his hands together. "Enough of this melancholy talk! I think we men should stay here and let you ladies go off to get acquainted and take care of all those female things that we have no business knowing."

Rhayne rolled her eyes, but grinned and flipped her hands in a shooing gesture. "Agreed. The bedroom would be the best place for me to examine Her Majesty."

As Breonna stood to go with Rhayne, Alistair rose as well. Looking between Breonna and Rhayne, he tried to shake his concerns off. Anders, noticing Alistair's movement, frowned. But before he could say anything, Rhayne was speaking up.

"You can come, if you wish, your Majesty," she said soothingly. "I swear to you, your wife is in no danger from me. The choice is yours, and hers, of course," she added, smiling at Breonna.

"No. No, I trust you, it's just…."

"I understand. It's hard to go against what you've been taught your entire life. Believe me, it's just as hard for me to relax around you and Anora, knowing you can render me helpless in mere seconds. Most mages wouldn't take this kind of risk, you know. It's scary for us as well."

He nodded. "I can see that," he murmured. He thought for another moment and then turned to Breonna to embrace her. After giving her a kiss, he said quietly, "I'll be right here. If you need anything…."

The answering squeeze of her arms was reassuring. "I'll scream the palace down if I need to, but I don't think I will. Have a drink with Anders. I'll be fine."

He nodded once more, kissed the top of her head and reluctantly let her go, allowing Rhayne to walk with her into the bedchamber. Only once the door between the two rooms had closed did he move, crossing to a sideboard along a wall and asking Anders what his fancy was.

Two weeks after Rhayne arrived and declared the queen and heir in perfect health, the Couslands descended on Denerim and the royal palace. If Alistair hadn't already known they were planning to stay through the winter and the spring Landsmeet, the amount of luggage they brought would have been his first clue.

Raising an eyebrow at his wife, Alistair asked, "Are they relocating?"

Breonna laughed and gave his upper arm a mock punch. "This is my mother we're dealing with here. What did you think was going to happen? If Father let her, she'd probably stay here until our child reaches maturity. I love my mother, but…." She shook her head ruefully. "Luckily, my father will make sure she goes back to Highever. Eventually."

As the seneschal began directing servants, Alistair and Breonna walked down to greet the Couslands. Eleanor and Oriana descended upon Breonna with cries of delight, the air around them immediately filling with chatter. As the two older women flanked her and began steering her back into the palace, she threw him a look over her shoulder, eyes slightly panicked. He gave her a jaunty little wave and smile, knowing he would pay for it later, but unable the let the moment pass.

The three men and Oren let the women get some distance on them before following. There wasn't much discussion, what with Bryce and Fergus giving Alistair knowing grins. He couldn't help but grin back. Sharing this with family was going to be great.

Fergus stopped suddenly as they walked, turning around to stare at his son in consternation. "Oren, take Griffon to the kennels. He's not coming into the palace.'

"Oh, come on, Da!" Oren protested, wrapping an arm around the massive hound's neck. "Griff always stays in the castle at Highever!"

"The palace isn't Highever. Take that dog to the kennels. And mind your tongue."

Oren looked at his father aghast. "He's not a dog, he's a mabari!"

Fergus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "The joys of fatherhood," he muttered.

Bryce laughed. "Indeed. I still remember the time you snuck into the armory and greased the handles of all the blades. As I recall, it took you a week to get them all clean."

"Da, you did that?" Oren's shocked question made Fergus groan.

"Thank you, Father. I appreciate that."

"Anytime, son. Oren's a good boy—let him keep the hound with him."

"Why don't we let Alistair decide? After all, it's his house."

Three sets of eyes focused on him and Alistair took a small step back. "I, uh…the dog can stay," he said. "I mean, the palace is big enough that you could probably put a whole pack in there and we'd never know."

Oren whooped with joy and took off into the palace with Griffon racing ahead of him. The look Fergus shot Alistair indicated he was not pleased with his answer. Alistair spread his hands and shrugged. "Hey, what can I say? I'm new to this fatherhood thing."

"The novelty wears off, believe me," Fergus muttered.

"No," Bryce interrupted suddenly, "it doesn't." He looked at his son fondly. "No matter how much they try your patience, and believe me, you and Breonna tried my patience, there's nothing quite like being a father. Enjoy him while he's still young enough to be enjoyed, Fergus. You'll miss this when it's gone."

Bryce looked at Alistair. "And you do the same when yours arrives. They grow up too fast as it is." The teyrn's eyes grew hazy for a moment, no doubt falling back into memories, and then he shook his head. "We'd best catch up to the ladies. I'm sure they'll have lots for us to do. Speaking of which, are you free tonight, Alistair?"

"As far as I know. We've basically cleared our schedule for the next week or two."

"Excellent. We'll see you later tonight then." Bryce and Fergus grinned at each other, something unspoken passing between them and it was enough to make Alistair slightly nervous as they entered the palace.

Later that evening after dinner, Bryce and Fergus entered the room where the others were relaxing.

"Pup," Bryce said to Breonna, "we're borrowing your husband for the night."

"Um…all right. What are you borrowing him for?"

Fergus grinned. "That's a secret, little sister. We'll return him in one piece, don't worry. C'mon, Alistair. Time's a-wasting!"

Eleanor and Oriana emitted long-suffering sighs, but his mother-in-law's lips twitched. "Don't worry about Breonna, Alistair. We'll keep an eye on her. You boys go have fun."

"Excellent!" Fergus grabbed Alistair's arm and urged him up. Alistair complied, a bit confused, but also curious as to what exactly the Cousland men had planned. Once back in the hallway, they found a small group of the royal guard waiting for them. The men were wearing non-descript armor. It was of high quality, but had none of the identifying marks normally found on the armor of those who guarded the monarchs. Alistair recognized it from his forays into the taverns. Captain Neale handed Alistair a cloak, a faint grin tugging up one corner of his mouth.

"I take it we're going somewhere?" he asked, settling the cloak about his shoulders as Bryce and Fergus did the same.

"Apparently, your Majesty," Neale responded dryly.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me."

"Ah, Teyrn Cousland asked that I not, ser. Something about it ruining the surprise and discretion being the better part of valor."

Alistair shot a look at the Couslands, and then turned back to his captain. "I could order you to, you know."

"Oh, come on, Alistair. Play along for now," Fergus chuckled. "I promise you, it's nothing to worry about and you'll have fun. Take the opportunity while you can. Trust us—you're going to find yourself remarkably short on free time for the next few years."

Alistair shrugged in defeat and gestured down the hall. "Lead on."

The handful of guards formed up around the nobles and led them from the palace. There were mounts waiting outside and this Alistair also recognized from his outings. Neale greatly disliked traveling with the king on foot, saying it made protecting him too difficult, and that in the event of attack, horses were much faster. Alistair smiled. As much as everyone was trying to keep it a secret, there were only so many places he could go at this time of night and in this particular manner. He smiled and shook his head. Let them have their fun at being sneaky and he would play along.

When the party turned towards the Market District and they drew up to the Gnawed Noble, his smile grew wider. If nothing else, this promised to be a night filled with better entertainment and spirits than his usual forays into the lower class taverns held. One of the guards took care of the horses while the others dismounted and led the nobles into the tavern. The barkeep looked up as they entered and he hurried over.

"I trust everything is all arranged?" Bryce asked him.

"Yes, my lord, just as you requested. If you'll follow me…." He turned and they followed him to a private room in the back of the tavern. As they got closer, Alistair could hear the sound of voices coming from behind the closed door and his brow furrowed as he wondered what exactly Bryce and Fergus had planned for tonight.

As they opened the door, the occupants in the room quieted to see who was arriving. When Alistair followed in behind Bryce and Fergus, a raucous cheer went up and he was stunned by the scene that greeted him.

He instantly recognized most of the faces scattered around the room, some that he hadn't seen in years and that he wasn't expecting to see.

Anora was the first to come over to him. For once, she wasn't dressed in armor. Instead, she wore a soft, dark blue shirt, tailored leather breeches and knee high boots. Her hair was down and she was grinning broadly, her bright blue eyes sparkling. Alistair didn't think he'd ever seen her this relaxed and happy, and found himself thinking that it really suited her. Whatever she was up to in Amaranthine, he was glad it agreed with her so well.

She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug and he returned it gladly. As close as Amaranthine was, their various duties kept them from seeing each other too often. There were the Landsmeets, but they were so busy that it hardly counted.

"Congratulations, Alistair," she said. "I'm so happy for you." She stepped back and looked him over. "You look really, really good. I assume you're excited?"

"I'm thrilled. It's…not something I was expecting, but I couldn't ask for more."

"Good." Anora gave him another squeeze. "You deserve this, Alistair," she whispered in his ear. "Of all people, you deserve this."

Alistair swallowed hard. "Thank you."

With one last squeeze, Anora stepped back and Alistair found his arms full of red-headed Orlesian.

"Leliana, I thought you were doing research on the ashes?"

"I was. But do you really think I would miss this? Come now, Alistair, surely you know better than that. I would not miss this for anything! And you must invite me to the palace. I haven't had a chance to get to know Breonna since the only time we met were those unfortunate few days before the Landsmeet."

As she talked, Leliana pulled him across the room and pushed him into a chair at a large table. Teagan, whom he'd always been fond of, was already seated there, his arm around a pretty, red-haired elf. He raised his goblet in greeting. Bryce and Fergus also sat down and one of the barmaids placed tankards of ale in front of them. Leliana perched on a chair next to his and the talk in the room picked back up.

Anders had made the first of his return trips to Vigil's Keep and Anora had obviously come back down with him, and brought several of her Wardens with her. Along with Anders, Nathaniel and Oghren were present. Alistair didn't know Nathaniel very well, but he didn't think the rogue was here for him necessarily. Judging from the way Anora was currently sitting in his lap, she had clearly brought him for other reasons. Alistair's mind boggled a little at that. Either Anora had really managed to loosen up in the last three years, or she was already more than a little drunk. Maybe a bit of both.

As the conversation continued, he found that he had, shockingly, missed Oghren's wildly inappropriate comments and ability to drink anyone and anything under the table. It was rather refreshing, in a way that not even the lower-class taverns he went to sometimes could match. Felsi, his wife, watched in fond amusement as Oghren's talk grew more bawdy. When the dwarf began giving Alistair tips on what to do when Breonna went into labor, she finally tried to hush him, with little success.

Alistair waved off her apologies and took another sip of his ale. He blinked down at it, fairly sure he had already finished it, but this tankard was full. Fergus raised his own tankard to him in a little salute and grinned. Ah, so that's how this night was going to go. He returned the grin and took another swallow of ale.

"Congratulations, your Majesty," an accented voice drawled in his ear, and Alistair choked on his ale. A hand pounded his back firmly while the others laughed.

"Zevran!" he gasped, wiping his eyes. "Don't do that!"

"My apologies." Zevran seated himself in an open chair, leaned back and set his feet on the table, legs crossed at the ankles.

"I thought you went back to Antiva. What are you doing in Ferelden?"

"I was…visiting, you might say. I had things to attend to."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Business or pleasure?"

"Ah, Alistair, truly, when are the two ever separate for me? Truthfully, I am here for both. Pleasure at seeing my friends again," he gestured with a hand towards Anora and the others, "and business for that's what I needed to discuss with the Warden."

Looking at the assassin warily, Alistair asked, "Crow business?"

"Naturally. Do not look so alarmed, Alistair. I was coming to assure Anora that I can guarantee there will be no more threats against either of you, or any Warden in Ferelden."

"You can guarantee that? How?"

"You and Anora are not the only ones in positions of authority." He laced his hands behind his head. "You're speaking to the new Master of the Crows."

Alistair's other eyebrow joined the first. "So first they wanted you dead and now you lead them? How did you manage that?"

"I killed a lot of people."

"Of course. How stupid of me. I suppose congratulations are in order for you as well?"

Pursing his lips in thought, Zevran tilted his head back, considering the question. "Yes, I believe so. I'd never really considered holding the position, and for all the satisfaction in attaining it, I find myself with little more freedom than I had as a simple assassin. There are benefits, obviously, but I find myself chafing at the restrictions. This is something you're probably familiar with, yes?"

The thought of the rogue who had embraced freedom so joyfully finding himself in the same position Alistair did made him chuckle ruefully. "Indeed it is. But, as you said, benefits."

Zevran lifted his wine glass in a toast. "Your benefits outweigh the negatives? Especially now?"

More than I had ever dreamed possible, he thought. More than I had ever hoped.

"Yes," he said simply, "they do."

"Then you are a lucky man, Alistair. Time shall tell if I am so fortunate." He raised his glass again. "To your health, the health of your queen and the health of your child." The glass was drained in three long swallows.

Alistair raised his own tankard and drank. Those were definitely well wishes he could, and would, drink to.

The rest of the evening passed in a progressively fuzzier blur. Alistair awoke in his own bed, morning sunlight streaming through the windows and stabbing into his eyes and brain like jagged bits of glass. The sound of something thunking down onto a hard surface made him groan and pull a pillow across his face. How much ale had he drunk and how late had he been out?

He wasn't sure exactly when the revelry came to an end. In fact, he didn't even remember in ending. There were vague recollections of ale, song and story, and then the guards helping him, Bryce and Fergus back to the palace. If he concentrated really hard, he sort of remembered singing, and shuddered. Oh, Maker, tell me I did not wander back to the palace singing.

The Maker didn't appear to be answering his prayer, as the functional part of his brain was gleefully telling him that, yes, he did that.

A tapping sound, muffled by the pillow, finally made him move and look around gingerly. Fresh pain made him wince and his eyes water as he lifted his head and looked for the source of the noise.

Breonna stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at him with one slippered foot tapping. She was frowning and she looked distinctly not happy.

"'Morning, Bre," he managed to mumble, the sound of his own voice echoing in his head like a drum.

His wife's frown only deepened and when she spoke, her voice was cutting and acerbic. "The next time my father and brother decide to take you out and get you drunk out of your mind, please ask them to have the courtesy of dunking you in a water barrel before returning you to my bed. Maker's breath, Alistair, you reek! You need to get up and have a bath before I throw up again."

Alistair sat up, holding his head gingerly. "Can I wait until the room stops spinning and isn't quite so bright?"

"Now!" she snapped. "You're lucky I didn't kick you out of bed last night. Or should I say this morning? And I promise you if you don't get moving you're not sleeping here tonight."

Inwardly cursing his in-laws—and they had to have known what Breonna's reaction was going to be—Alistair got up slowly, grabbing onto the bedpost for support as the room tilted around him. Shielding his eyes with a hand, he shuffled slowly towards the door. That was the last time he was ever going to do that. It was fun at the time, but the repercussions weren't worth it.

To his surprise, he felt a slight tug on his arm. He was so used to going to the baths downstairs that he hadn't even realized the sunken stone bathtub in the bathing chamber was filled. Breonna guided him over, even supporting his weight a little bit as she helped him into the tub.

"Thanks," he said gratefully.

She huffed in annoyance. "This is the last time, believe me. If it's any consolation, my family's probably going through the same thing right now. I'll be breakfasting with my mother, Oriana and Oren when you're done."

The thought of food made his stomach clench and he moaned. Breonna gave him a tight, little smile that was remarkably vicious. "Now you know how I felt for the last two months."

And with that, she turned on her heel, shutting the door a little harder than necessary and making him flinch. Alistair leaned back in the tub and sighed.

Definitely the last time….