Quick Authors Note: Thanks to the three awesome people who have reviewed so far—you rock and it keeps me writing!

I'm loving this fic—its only my second for years and brought about purely from the coolness of Dragon Age and how involved it gets people. I had a baby girl back in July and apart from a NaNo novel this is one of my first forays back into writing, so I really do appreciate the comments. I also blame any and every typo and silly mistake on baby brain. Its my prerogative!

Anyway, many thanks and enjoy the chapter. It was fun to get inside Anoras head and writing Alistair from the perspective of his least favourite fan was a treat!

Chapter Four

Anora Theirin was a vision of beauty and elegance; however her face conveyed nothing but sadness as she gazed at her mirror image. Her handmaidens had just finished dressing her and crafting her hair into an elaborate style. The gown was golden in colour, the colour of the sun shining on wheat in August. The sleeveless, strapless bodice shimmered from the pearls and gems that were sewn into it. The skirt was full and had a long train. Her décolletage was bare except for one pearl that rested against her throat suspended on a fine gold chain. She wore delicate lace fingerless gloves on her hands which came up to her wrists, nicely displaying the enormous diamond ring and simple gold bands she wore on her left ring finger. She carried a matching lace fan, which she held listlessly in her hand. Her hair was half up and half down. Most of it was curled atop her head so that she was a good few inches taller than usual and in that was set a gold tiara set with pearls. The rest of her hair flowed down against her back, hiding the laces that secured her bodice in place.

She looked every part the ravishing young queen, yet she could not summon even a small smile to her painted face.

Anora had no desire to attend this banquet, yet there was no way that she could avoid the occasion. She had allowed herself to get her hopes up during this past months cycle and when she went a few days overdue she had felt like all her dreams were finally coming true. All hope had been cruelly dashed that morning when she awoke to a familiar dampness between her legs.

It was getting harder to put on a brave face. she received sympathy from her nurses and handmaidens, but none of them understood the pressure she was under. Producing an heir was the most important part of her career now. The days when she had had a big part to play in the ruling of her beloved country were long gone. Alistair was so unlike Cailan; he was more interested in ensuring that all races were given equal rights, in trying to close the poverty gap, in ascertaining what it was the people of Ferelden wanted and needed and in satisfying those demands. Cailen had been happy so long as he could play general, leaving Anora free to make the real decisions. The marriage had been a happy one, largely due to the fact that Anora was happy in her role as hands-on queen and that Cailen had been away for many months at a time. Yes, it had been a good pairing, but in hindsight Anora had to admit bitterly, that had left little time for them to set about producing an heir. They ought to have had it a lot easier than she and Alistair were finding things. Only three months ago Anora had been forced to increase their conception attempts to twice weekly instead of merely weekly. It was simply not working and she was losing the will to try. She had an alternative in mind which she would need to discuss with Alistair—negotiating the conception of their child and heir. She sighed, what would her father have thought of her?

At the memory of Loghain, Anora closed her eyes tight shut lest she give in to tears. That would never do—the maiden who had perfected the shading around her eyes would have to be recalled and there simply was not the time. Anora shuddered as she thought of how often she was forced to make pleasantries, forced to lay and make love to the man who had cleaved her father's head from his body. Her father had yielded to the Grey Wardens, admitted his mistakes and asked for the chance to make peace with his errors. The female Grey Warden, the Dalish elf, she had hesitated, Anora had seen it. She would not pledge her allegiance to Anora, but in that moment she had seen the elf relax her hostile pose, making Anora warm to her suddenly. Again that vindictive mistress hope had lit a flame in her breast. Hope that her father might be spared—it had not been beneath Anora to beg for it. But then Alistair, that ignorant fool, had vocally made his objections known and Anora saw the elf harden herself again. The sight was like a skewer through her heart and she had seen her father's eyes grow dull as he accepted his fate. Yes, he had made mistakes, but only with his country in mind. Anora could understand that. Was she not thinking of her country every time she let Alistair lay his hand on her body? Every time she allowed him to kiss her lips? Every time she spread her legs for him and closed her eyes in hope that this time it might be the last?

There had been no honour in her father's death in spite of his great achievements on the battlefield and that he had helped Ferelden retake her independence. The only reason he lay dead today was because the Dalish Warden had been blinded by her love for Alistair. She, Anora was certain, would have listened to rationale, were it not for her emotions clouding her judgement. For that reason, Anora placed the sole blame of Teryn Loghains execution on her shoulders. And for that Anora could never forgive her.

She sighed. It was nearly time for the banquet honouring the Wardens presence in Denerim to begin. But there was always time to throw up at the thought beforehand.

Alistair was in a bad mood. He was on his way to a banquet, which would later feature dancing—he hated making nice with the smarmy nobles and he loathed dancing. He would be brought face to face with his fellow Grey Warden—a woman he had crushed and hadn't seen for years. He was replete in his finery—he was wearing a gold codpiece that left far too little to the imagination (the subject of his virility was a hot topic amongst the nobles and he had been advised that it would not hurt to display a little of himself in order to slightly quell the rumours that he was not up to task). But worst of all was the conversation he had just finished having with Anora.

"Alistair, we have to talk."

"Yeees?" I say warily.

"We have not...been successful in our attempts again."

"I'm sorry." Just a stock response now, although my pride dies a little each month.

"Yes, well, we are now in a position whereby we need to explore other options."

"Options?" I really hate the sound of that.

"Under most circumstances when a queen fails to provide an heir, the king must seek a mistress to produce one. You remember."

Ouch, catty. "I do."

"However in our case we know for a fact that it is not me at fault, it is you."

I say nothing.

"Therefore I have spoken with my closest advisers and it has been recommended that we find a suitor for me."

"A suitor...wait, you mean a man to provide the...the means with which to create a child." I am incredulous.

"Yes. I should lay with another man until a child is conceived. We will raise the child as our own and none shall know of the child's true parentage besides us two, and my advisor."

"And the father. Surely?"

"Well...in order to ensure total assurance that the child's true father should never reveal himself, I will arrange for him to be removed once it is confirmed that I am expecting."

Wait... "I know your language Anora." I say angrily. "When you say removed you in fact mean assassinated. I refuse to that—no man should be used in such a way. How you could you do that to the father of your bastard child?"

"It is what is necessary to achieve peace for our country. Can you imagine the damage should this secret be revealed? The country would be torn apart by it."

I stop and stare at her. "When did you get to be so cold?" I ask.

She does not reply. She merely fixes me with a detached stare and then we reach the banquet hall and plaster fake smiles upon our faces.

He sat upon his throne, with his shoulders slumped and his mind wandering. Find a suitor for Anora to produce a child. Not one of Theirin blood, not his own kin. Some bastard child with absolutely no right to the throne yet who would one day rule Ferelden. The Theirin line would end with him, yet it had been so important to set him upon the throne due to his blood. The irony tasted like acid. He sighed heavily.

His eyes strayed to the large doors through which had arrived the nobles, the Teryns, the Banns of Ferelden. A selective of mages were mingling throughout the hall—he spied First Enchanter Wynne and gave a small wave. He wondered when Saóirsè would be arriving. If nothing else she would give him cause to ignore the bombshell dropped by Anora if only for one night.

As if by thinking of her he had summoned her, she appeared in the doorway. The announcer clearly did not recognise her and turned to ask his assistant, but when he turned back she had already entered the hall, flanked by Leliana.

She simply stole his breath away.

Saóirsè was dressed far more simply than the noblewomen massing around the hall. She wore a long gown of ivory, decorated with embroided vines and leaves that crept down from her bodice and spread out over the skirt. The pale colour was offset perfectly against her golden dress was an uncomplicated cut which cinched in her petite waist and the sleeves fluted out at her elbows. Her hair, her gorgeous unruly wild curls had been tamed for once, most likely by Leliana. It was pulled back from her face and wrapped into a chignon with a few loose curls dangling by her face. She wore a tiny amount of makeup but whatever had been applied seemed to exaggerate her big green eyes and Alistair found himself drawn to them. She nervously scanned the hall, perhaps looking for him. Then she gazed up to the dais that held the thrones and found him. They're eyes connected and it felt as if they had run smashing into one another. Alistair felt almost winded by the sight of her. It was quite a difference from the way he remembered her: Dragon Scale armour, blades in hand, blood spattered on her skin, hair a wild halo around her head, a devil-may-care grin on her face. In the midst of battle she was daring and gorgeous. At this time she was something much more exquisite. He might have described her as delicate had he not seen her take down an ogre all by herself before.

Without a thought to formality, or any thought at all in fact, Alistair leapt from the dais and bounded over to Saóirsè.

He was headed right for her. Saóirsè felt for Leliana's calming presence but the Orlesian had moved away to mingle, no doubt not coincidentally. He was dressed in gold and wore a tightly fitting crown, but oh his eyes. They were alive and full of joy at the sight of her. She couldn't help but smile as he gleefully made his way towards her, but she held her ground. She would remember who he was beneath the childlike smiles and boyish humour and stand fast.

Makers breath, she's beautiful...I am a foolish man...

He reached her and stopped.

"Hullo." He offered weakly.

"Well met, your majesty." Saóirsè said inclining her head in a show of deference.

"Hey, no, don't do that." Alistair said, his automatic reaction leading him to reach out his hand, but just at the last second he stopped himself from touching her arm. "If I'm not having Leliana refer to me by a title, I certainly can't expect you to."

"As you wish." She said sweetly. Alistair swallowed. This was not going at all how he had pictured it and he didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

"You look...lovely." Lovely?

"Thank you." Saóirsè replied, blushing a little bit. "Makes a change, eh?"

"Yes," Alistair smiled. "I expect this is largely due to Leliana's styling? In which case I would have thought you would have been taller...wearing some sort of ridiculously high shoes?"

Saóirsè gave him a guilty look then barely lifted the hem of her dress revealing that beneath the fine gown she was wearing her old, worn leather boots. Alistair laughed loudly and she couldn't help but smile.

"So, the Alienage, eh?" he said breezily. She looked at him expectantly. "You think you can find a new recruit there?"

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't?" her eyes narrowed.

"No, no," Alistair waved his hands. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm a big fan of elves...I...wait..." he sighed at his stupidity, but as he ran his hands over his face he caught the smallest smile playing at the corners of Saóirsès mouth. "Yes, I'm still my utterly affable self, still quite the wordsmith. I meant I am proud to say that I have instated policies to safeguard the elves freedoms and protect them from persecution."

"So I heard. I'm glad." She said, genuine warmth coming through in her words. "I...er, I hope we're not too late? We were settling into our quarters."

"No, of course." Alistair said. "You're fine. I understand that you probably had a lot to bring over."

"Yes, you could say that." Saóirsè said, biting her lip. She couldn't help but feel that she ought to bring up Catriona—he did know about her after all—but something held her back. For all her insistence to Leliana that she wanted to keep her parentage a secret, now that she was faced with the prospect of denying her daughter she found she did not relish the idea. While she was deliberating, Alistair ploughed forward and mentioned Cat himself.

"I met Catriona today." He said blithely. "I bumped into her in the district and returned her to Leliana."

"Mmm." Saóirsè said noncommittally.

"She's very sweet." He said not wanting to let the conversation die awkwardly. "How old is she?"

"She...she's three years old." She replied, studying her feet very intently.

"Wow, three." Alistair said. "I guess she would have been born while you and Leliana were in Orlais?"

"Yes, she was." Saóirsè said. "Only a few months after your wedding. Congratulations by the way."

"Oh, yes, thank you." Alistair said, feeling a little flustered. He wanted nothing more than to get off the topic of him and his farcical marriage and back to Saóirsè. "So, was it a shock?"

"Your wedding?" Saóirsè asked confused. That's a bit personal.

"No, I meant Leliana having a baby." Alistair hurried to correct.

"Oh, um, it was a little..." Saóirsè said. Please stop bringing her up... "So, how's Anora?"

Alistair grimaced before he could stop himself. Something about speaking with Saóirsè made him less cautious about hiding his true feelings. Naturally she picked up on it.

"Ah, that good?" Saóirsè said.

Alistair made a small attempt to brush off his negative reaction, but then gave up. What was the point? Saóirsè knew him better than anyone after all.

"Listen," she said. "I want to go and check on Cat, so can I catch up with you later?" He nodded and let her turn around. He watched her walk away then as she passed through the door and out of sight a compulsion came over him and before he knew what he was doing he found himself rushing to catch up with her.

"Saóirsè!" he called. She stopped and turned. "I'm sorry, but do you mind if I walk with you? I could use a break from the festivities and I'd like to speak some more with you if you're willing?"

Saóirsè was frozen. She wanted very much to refuse him but could not form the words. She nodded quickly. "Of course."

They walked slowly up the corridor heading for the Warden Commanders quarters, both feeling a mix of unease and delight at the partnership.