Varel stood at the doorway of the main audience hall, his formal voice ringing out clearly and to all corners of the room as he spoke.

"Warden Commander; their Royal Majesties, the King and Queen of Ferelden."

Lhiannon watched as Varel stepped out of the doorway to allow Alistair and Anora to enter the main audience hall of Vigil's Keep. Word had come in the form of a scout not long before that the arrival of the King and Queen would be imminent. Lhiannon watched from the window of her office as the large retinue of the Crown arrived, a grand carriage carrying the King and Queen surrounded by several dozen soldiers and a number of supply carts. Thankfully, Alistair and Anora had sent word before they left Denerim that they would be bringing a large contingent of soldiers with them; room was made in the barracks of the Vigil to house them for the duration of their stay. Quarters within the barracks would be tight while the King and Queen were at Vigil's Keep, but there was just enough room for everyone.

Lhiannon stood at the head of the hall near her chair of command dressed in a fine gown of deep green with gold trim, Loghain at her side as Second Warden of Ferelden in a fine grey tunic and trousers, his black boots buffed to a high shine. The other Ferelden Grey Wardens present—Nathaniel, Anders, Oghren, Cris, and Jowan—all stood at attention along one wall, dressed in their formal clothing or robes. Fergus and Cauthrien also stood nearby, he in a fine doublet and trousers and she in a fine, if plain, gown.

Lhiannon felt the love and pride swell within Loghain as Anora entered the hall on Alistair's arm, her advanced pregnancy clearly showing even through her riding cloak. They approached the head of the hall, walking a little slower than normal so as not to tire or rush Anora needlessly. Varel followed closely behind the King and Queen, offering to take the Queen's cloak, which she eagerly parted with.

As Lhiannon dipped down into a courtesy for the approaching sovereigns, the King reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms, pulling her upright and into a fierce hug as his Queen stood at his side. Alistair's arms wrapped around Lhiannon so tightly that she thought she could hear her ribs groaning in protest as her breath was forced from her lungs. After crushing her in his arms, Alistair held her out at arm's length, looking her up and down with a worried expression on his face.

"Lhi, are you all right?" Alistair began, the worry evident in his voice and on the planes of his face. "I mean really all right? When I heard about what had happened to you, I had feared the worst. I wanted to come right away, but I couldn't leave Denerim…"

Lhiannon leaned forward and placed a kiss on Alistair's cheek, cupping the other cheek with a gentle hand. She smiled as she pulled away, seeking to reassure the King that she was, indeed, all right. "Your Majesty…"

A look of abject horror crossed the King's young face. "Maker's breath, Lhi! You don't need to call me 'Your Majesty'! Hearing you say that seems so...wrong. Ugh, you're such a terrible tease!"

Lhiannon laughed at the look of horror on Alistair's face, bringing a hand up to her mouth in an attempt to cover her giggles. "Alistair," she amended, smiling brightly at him. "I'm fine. Really. My people took very good care of me."

"And the man that attacked you; I understand that he has been executed?"

Lhiannon nodded, stepping back to stand beside Loghain once more. "Yes, Alistair. He was put on trial and executed for his crimes against me, the arling, and Ferelden." She paused a moment, tilting her head toward Loghain beside her. "Loghain carried out the execution himself; he and Varel believed having me execute him would have made him a martyr to those of like mind."

"I can understand the caution. You most certainly had the Grand Cleric up in arms after her visit here," Anora added, her hands unconsciously moving to her protruding stomach to cradle it. Lhiannon performed a quick calculation in her head; Calenhad's heir would be born in just a matter of weeks, likely not long after they returned to Denerim. "She came to the palace demanding an audience the second she arrived back in Denerim," Anora continued, "ranting about 'that mage' in Amaranthine and asking me how I could appoint 'that mage' as Arlessa against the teachings of Andraste and the Maker."

"What did you tell her?" Loghain asked, scowling at the thought of the Grand Cleric seeking an immediate audience with the Crown, as if she were entitled to such a meeting whenever she wished; as if she were the sovereign and not the other way around. The news that the meddling hag had gone directly to the palace to plead her case did not surprise Loghain in the least.

Anora snorted derisively; Lhiannon had to suppress a small chuckle at the sound. Anora's scoffing sounded eerily similar to her father's. "I told the Grand Cleric that Lhiannon deserved the honor after defeating the archdemon and that the Grey Wardens needed a base of operations in Ferelden. Amaranthine was the perfect solution and I was well within my rights as Queen to appoint her so."

"The Grand Cleric was also looking for any reason for me to deny your marriage," Alistair said, gesturing lightly with his hands. "I told her that Ferelden was not a theocracy and that while we held the teachings of Andraste and the Maker close to heart, they were not the rule of the land. As long as the documents drawn up were legal under Ferelden law, I would be bound by the same law to approve them."

"She then came back and retorted that Alistair was the King," Anora explained, bringing a haughtiness to her voice that Lhiannon found reminiscent of how the Grand Cleric sounded. "And that as King he could reject the contracts in Andraste's name, since the laws of the Maker supersede the laws of any king or queen."

"So, the Grand Cleric is advocating circumventing the law?" Loghain sneered. "That so long as the circumvention is what the Chantry wants, that it is fine to just ignore or throw out the laws of Ferelden at it suits them? Typical."

Alistair shrugged, a boyish smirk crossing his features. "Well, I didn't say it quite that way, but the thought did cross my mind." He turned toward where Fergus and Cauthrien stood nearby, greeting both with a warm smile and handshake, Anora at his side. When he finished, Lhiannon led him and Anora over to where the Grey Wardens stood.

"Alistair, here are the Grey Wardens currently present at Vigil's Keep; several others are currently out on missions."

"Oh?" Alistair asked, his eyes falling over the gathered Wardens. "Who is missing?"

"Wardens Sigrun and Raelyn are currently attached to Teagan Guerein's retinue as he travels the Bannorn before the Landsmeet. Warden Anwen is with the Dalish in the Brecilian Forest, protecting the elves from darkspawn near the archdemon Urthemiel's breach. Warden Leliana and Zevran are currently on a mission to Orlais."

"Orlais?" Anora asked, her voice cool and controlled.

"I shall brief you and the King later," Lhiannon explained, motioning toward the Wardens once more. "For now, these are the Wardens that remain. Nathaniel Howe, Anders, Jowan, Oghren—you remember him I'm sure—and…"

"Cris?" Alistair asked, carefully eyeing the newest Grey Warden present. "Cris Darkpath? Holy Maker, I never thought I'd see you here!" The King extended his hand, a large smile on his face. Cris returned the smile, grasping Alistair's hand in both of his own and shaking it vigorously.

"I didn't think you would remember or recognize me," Cris replied, releasing Alistair's hand and stepping back in place.

Alistair's resonant laugh echoed through the audience hall. "Not recognize you? Never."

"Alistair," Anora began, her voice containing both a question and an edge. Her eyes moved between her husband and the Warden before her. "Perhaps introductions are in order?"

"Oh, yes, well..." Alistair turned to face the confused looks of his wife, the Warden Commander and Second Warden, as well as the Vigil's Seneschal. "I've known Cris since I was a small boy in Redcliffe; before the former Arlessa had me shipped off to the Chantry."

"I was recently attached to Teagan's retinue when I first met Alis...I mean the King," Cris began, his eye turning toward the others in the room, who watched the proceedings with curiosity. "I saw this boy in the stables whenever we visited Redcliffe—never anywhere else—who bore a striking resemblance to King Maric and Prince Cailan. I finally asked Teagan about it and he told me about Alistair. I felt bad for him; the Arlessa rarely spoke a kind word about or to him, relegating him to the stables like a servant."

"What a shock; Isolde acting the insecure bitch," Lhiannon snickered under her breath toward Loghain, who snorted softly. How the woman felt threatened by a mere boy Lhiannon could never understand. Did the thought ever occur to her to just ask Eamon about Alistair's parentage? Lhiannon could not understand how Isolde missed the fact that Alistair did indeed bear a striking resemblance to Cailan.

Alistair gestured toward Cris, one hand settling on the small of Anora's back while gesturing with the other. "Cris tried to teach me to use a bow," he explained, a sheepish grin crossing his face.

"It was clear very early on that the bow was not kind to Alistair."

"That's certainly a diplomatic way of putting it," Alistair scoffed, chuckling lightly. "The fact of the matter is, I was terrible with the bow. I just couldn't wrap my brain around the weapon."

Lhiannon held up a hand, grinning at the exchange between them. "Well, there will be time for the two of you to catch up later. Wardens, you are dismissed." Lhiannon turned toward Varel, who stood just behind them as the other Wardens began to file out of the audience hall. "We have paperwork to sign, correct, Varel?"

"Indeed, Commander," Varel agreed, motioning toward the door of the audience hall with his hand. "If you'll follow me…"

"Lead on, Varel."

Lhiannon's anticipation built as their small entourage walked through the walls of the Vigil toward Varel's office, Varel in front followed by Alistair and Anora. Fergus and Cauthrien also followed in single file, quiet except for the click of boots and rustle of fabric. Lhiannon and Loghain followed last. Butterflies fluttered in Lhiannon's stomach and her hands shook slightly in both excitement and nervousness. As she focused on her twitching stomach, she felt Loghain's hand settle on the small of her back, his calming presence seemingly chasing the butterflies away. She turned and looked up into his blue eyes; he looked at her with a degree of amusement, a dark brow lifting toward his hairline as they walked. She gave him a small smile, her own arm settling itself on his trim waist as they walked.

They reached the door leading to Varel's office, the Seneschal opening the door and stepping aside to allow those behind him to enter. As Lhiannon entered and Varel closed the door behind them, she looked to his desk and saw several documents lying in neat piles on his desk. Stepping closer to his desk, she realized what they were: the marriage contracts between Lhiannon and Loghain as well as the succession plans for Gwaren. Lhiannon felt the corner of her mouth tick upward slightly. Their union was even more real and tangible now. Damn the Chantry; they can rot.

Six copies of each document sat on Varel's desk; Lhiannon wondered just how long it took Varel and Aura to pen all those documents. The neat piles were waiting for the signatures, seals, and witnessing of each person gathered in the room. Copies of the documents were to be filed in the archives in Amaranthine, Denerim, Highever, and Gwaren, with personal copies for Lhiannon and Loghain as well as Alistair and Anora. Varel led the way to his desk, picking up the quill from his ink set and holding it out; Lhiannon and Loghain to come forward to set their signatures to the documents.

"Well," Loghain said as he took the offered quill from Varel, turning and favoring Lhiannon with a small smirk as he held the quill out to her. "If you wish to reconsider, this is your last chance."

Lhiannon grinned, giving a wink to Varel before favoring Loghain with a grin. "I think I'll keep you around. You're pretty good with a sword in a fight."

"I'm glad I'm of use to you."

Taking the proffered quill from Loghain's hand, Lhiannon set her signature to the contracts on Varel's desk. When she finished, she turned and offered the quill back to Loghain, a large grin on her face. "Your turn, unless you wish to reconsider."

"Perhaps I'll keep you around," he smirked. "Your magic is useful every now and then."

A smirk pulled one of the corners of Lhiannon's mouth upward, a look of mirth in her eyes. "Every now and then?"

"Your healing magic leaves much to be desired, but perhaps I can overlook it."

Varel reached out and took the quill from Loghain as they stepped back from the desk. He beckoned the King and Queen forward, offering the quill first to the King. Alistair began to set his careful signature on the documents. When he finished, he turned the quill over to Anora, who added her hers. Anora and Alistair then stepped back, allowing Varel and Fergus to add their signatures as witnesses.

Cauthrien stepped forward from where she stood near the doorway. If she was nervous, Lhiannon could detect nothing betraying such on her face. She was truly Loghain's creation as a solder; it was clear that she honed her own calm, cool demeanor under Loghain's tutelage. She set her signature to the Gwaren documents, her handwriting surprisingly girlish despite her cool demeanor. When she finished she turned to find Loghain's hand outstretched to her; she shook his hand, pumping his hand it three times before releasing it.

"Gwaren is in your care now, Cauthrien, Steward of the Teyrnir of Gwaren," Loghain said, tipping his head to her. "I have every confidence that you will guide the teyrnir until an heir is ready to take their place."

"I am honored by your confidence in me."

Replacing the quill into its sheath, Varel turned toward both Lhiannon and Loghain. "All that is needed now is your public declaration," he grinned. "Now that all of the documents are signed and witnessed, they shall be secured in the vault here until we all part ways."

The entourage returned to the audience hall, watching as the servants hung brightly colored banners on the support beams and brought in tables to serve the wedding banquet on. Alistair clapped his hands together once, his gaze moving between Lhiannon and Loghain as they entered the hall. "So, where do you need me to stand as I speak at your wedding," Alistair asked, a grin spreading across his face as he looked about, observing the preparations. "Up there at the head of the hall, near your chairs?"

Lhiannon and Loghain shared a quick glance before turning back toward the King. Lhiannon saw that Anora caught their quick glance; her eyes narrowing slightly as her brows fell. Lhiannon breathed a small sigh and turned her attention to Alistair.

"Alistair, I don't think you should be the one to officiate."

Lhiannon felt her heart sink as the grin fell from Alistair's face, the hurt obviously clear in his expression. He opened his mouth to speak but Lhiannon held up a gentle hand. "Let me explain. I would love nothing more than to have you speak the words that marry Loghain and me, but I don't want to see the Chantry coming down on you any more than they already have."

"Let me worry about the Chantry, Lhi," Alistair protested, slashing his hand through the air. "I can handle them."

Loghain shook his head. "No. Don't be a fool. The Chantry is looking for any excuse to besmirch Lhiannon and will not hesitate to move beyond her to those that are closely associated with her. Until such matters are resolved, you must not put yourself in the line of fire."

"Alistair, my father and Lhiannon a point." Anora brushed her hand against Alistair's arm, bringing his attention to her. "The Chantry will likely be unhappy that we are here at all, but even they cannot besmirch the support of a daughter for her father. We cannot give the Chantry ammunition to use against us; Ferelden needs stable leadership, especially now."

"I don't want to see you caught up in the fight between me and the Chantry, Alistair," Lhiannon stated, coming forward to take one of his hands in hers. She hoped her plea reached him. "Anora is right; they will be irritated enough with you just being here; I can't watch them try to slander you and Anora for openly endorsing what they see as my unsanctioned marriage by performing the ceremony yourself."

"But Anora and I have signed the marriage contracts," Alistair protested, "that alone will be considered an endorsement."

"That is true, and the Chantry will be unhappy that you did not void them as you have the power to do," Loghain agreed. "However, as you said before, the Chantry is not the supreme law of Ferelden and you were following the law."

"Your Majesty, allow me to perform the ceremony," Varel suggested, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and his face the picture of calm. "The Chantry is annoyed enough with Amaranthine and those charged with its welfare; they will not be surprised to hear I went against the Grand Cleric's wishes and married the Commander and Second."

Doubt still lingered on Alistair's face; Lhiannon resumed her attempt at persuading Alistair to see reason. "You may be Calenhad's heir, with your own heir on the way, but I can see the Chantry trying to convince the banns in the Bannorn to unite against you and put another candidate for the throne up to the Landsmeet; a candidate that the Chantry can possibly manipulate and bend to their will. You must be cautious."

"The Chantry would seek to end the line of Calenhad? Just like that?" Alistair's eyes flicked briefly to Loghain before returning to Lhiannon. She could almost hear his question through the taint. Isn't that just a little paranoid? Is that Loghain speaking through you? Silence fell upon those gathered in the hall, so quiet that the gentle breeze outside could be heard brushing up against the stone walls.

"Alistair," Anora began, breaking the heavy silence that descended between them, "you know the Grand Cleric is just begging for a reason to return to the palace and demand that you strip Lhiannon of her titles and banish her back to Kinloch Hold. Again. She demands it of you because she thinks your templar training makes your more receptive; she sees me as my father's daughter and therefore stubborn and unmovable."

With an exasperated, yet resigned sigh, Alistair relented. "Very well, Lhi. If the Chantry concerns you that much, I'll let Varel perform the ceremony." His boyish grin spread across his face. "But I will demand a front row seat."

Lhiannon grinned. "I don't see a problem with that."

Loghain asked to take his leave from the group in the audience hall, wishing to speak with his daughter alone for a bit. They rarely had opportunities to speak candidly and alone, and Loghain sought to take advantage of the opportunity to speak with Anora before duty demanded their attention again.

As Fergus and Cauthrien began to brief Lhiannon, Varel, and Alistair on their trip to Amaranthine, Loghain led Anora through the halls of the Vigil to the nearby study, not wishing to tire Anora needlessly by making her walk to his office on an upper floor. He called out for a servant to bring tea and pastries, lighting a fire in the small fireplace as Anora slowly settled herself into a nearby chair, sighing in relief as she sat.

"You are sure about this? About the succession plans for Gwaren?" Anora asked, her hands absentmindedly caressing her protruding stomach. The baby was becoming more active, its kicks stronger with each passing day.

"I am," Loghain insisted, the confidence in his voice assuring Anora that her father was indeed sure of his decision. "The chances of Lhiannon bearing a child from our union are very small." Loghain held Anora's glacial eyes with his own, tapping a finger on the top of the table in emphasis. "I will not see Gwaren fall to political maneuvering and chaos. Gwaren belongs to our line, Anora, and I will see it remain there. It will likely be your second child that inherits Gwaren."

Anora raised a brow to her father; Loghain knew his own expression of curiosity was very much like that. "And if you and Lhiannon do have a child before our second is born, your child will inherit."

"That is correct."

A female servant entered carrying a tray, a large carafe of fragrant herbed tea balanced on the surface surrounded by a number of sweet pastries. Loghain and Anora fell silent as the servant placed the tray on a small table between father and daughter, bowing slightly before retreating from the room and closing the door behind her.

"And if our second is born first, your child will become Arl or Arlessa of Denerim, and ours will inherit Gwaren." Anora reached for a small pastry on the tray, delicately tearing it into two pieces and brining a small piece to her mouth.

Loghain nodded once. "Correct. If we—meaning the four of us—decide differently later, we will address it then."

"And you are certain about your chances of having a child?"

Loghain poured a cup of tea for Anora, handing it to her as he answered. "Yes; it is difficult for one Grey Warden to either carry or sire a child. For two Grey Wardens, the chances are almost infinitesimal." Loghain paused for a moment and Anora thought she saw a brief flicker of sadness cross her father's face before he set his stony façade in place once more. "We do not dwell on what we cannot have, but rather focus on what we already have in each other."

Anora took a sip of her herbed tea, giving a small snort when she finished. "When you first met Maric, did you ever think you would have to think of such things? Royal and noble succession strategies must have been the farthest thing from your mind."

Loghain scoffed, a smirk crossing his face. "You have no idea." He observed Anora grin lightly, her hands once again resting against her protruding stomach. Loghain's grin turned into a more genuine smile, watching his child caress her stomach lovingly, where his and Maric's grandchild grew. Soon, the child would be here, heir to two noble Ferelden bloodlines; the unification that he and Maric both wished for complete.

"Anora, you look beautiful."

Anora turned to her father, a slightly sheepish look on her face. Her father was never one to lavish anyone with compliments and on the rare occasions he lavished one on her, Anora felt both proud yet awkward. She felt heat blossom in her cheeks and knew her fair skin was being stained a light pink.

"You look very much like your mother did when she was pregnant with you. I can scarcely believe you are no longer a little girl with pigtails and skinned knees."

"Thank you, Father," Anora replied, silently admonishing herself for not being able to say anything more meaningful. They were never good at expressing their feelings to one another; Anora thought that maybe with her child coming, now would be a good time to change that. She wanted her child to be close to its grandfather, showering him with the love that only a child could provide. "I'm very happy that I can give you a grandchild at last."

Loghain took a sip of his tea, his gaze moving from Anora to the fire in the small hearth. They sat quietly for several moments, the silence both comfortable, yet slightly awkward. Loghain admonished himself; this was his daughter and there was no reason to be awkward in his feelings for her or showing her how much he loved her.

"Father, I am glad to see you happy," Anora began, withdrawing her hand from his and plucking at her gown ever so slightly. Her and her father rarely had would could be considered a father-daughter talk and though she was grateful for the time alone with her father, she felt slightly uncomfortable around him, as if he were a stranger; in a way, he was a stranger to her.

"It certainly was a strange road to get to this point."

"Strange indeed," Anora scoffed, remembering well the last Landsmeet where her father fought Lhiannon in a duel and lost, changing the course of his life so radically. At that time, it looked as if there would never be common ground; certainly not between her and Alistair, nor between Lhiannon and her father. The Maker, her father was often apt to say, had a strange sense of humor. Anora found that she could not disagree with that assessment.

The baby was kicking steadily now; Anora reached over and pulled her father's hand toward her. Loghain moved from his chair, kneeling down in front of Anora as she put his hand on her stomach over where the baby was most active. She watched his face light up as he felt the baby kick within her.

"A little warrior," he quietly mused, his face filled with wonder at the life growing inside Anora. "Soon we shall meet in person, little one."

Loghain turned his hand over and gently grasped Anora's, giving it a brief, gentle squeeze. Anora looked at his hand, her eyes scanning its large, scarred, and calloused surface. It nearly swallowed her own small, delicate hand. He held her hand with a surprising gentleness, something Anora rarely saw in her father. Perhaps that would change with the birth of her child. This child could be a new beginning for all of them, a way to forge stronger family ties between them all.

Loghain and Anora both watched the flames dance in the hearth, the gentle warmth filling the room. Anora reluctantly withdrew her hand from Loghain's, taking a sip of tea once more. As she set the cup on the table, a knock on the door drew their attention. Loghain rose from where he knelt in front of Anora, moving toward the door and finding Varel on the other side. The seneschal entered the room, favoring Anora with a courtly bow before speaking.

"Your Majesty; Warden Loghain. Commander Lhiannon requests your presence in the audience hall once more."

"What does the Warden Commander need?" Anora asked, accepting Loghain's hand as he held it out to help guide her to her feet. Varel waited until Anora was steady on her feet before continuing.

"The Warden Commander has an issue that needs to be resolved before the wedding takes place. She has been waiting for your arrival, Your Majesty, before continuing."

Anora turned her head to look at her father, a brow raised in questioning. "What issue is that, Father?"

Loghain snorted irritability. "The Orlesian bard, Marjolaine."

That darned muse has hijacked the story again, writing far more plot than I can fit into one chapter. This chapter and the next were meant to be one, but the length was getting really out of hand, so it had to be split into two more manageable bites. The laundry list that Tyanilth and Shakespira suggested worked a little too well. ;) But good news, readers...the wedding chapter has finally begun (Aura, I can hear you squealing from this side of the pond)! It's only about ten chapters later than I thought it would appear in...this story is going to be far longer than I ever imagined it would be. :)

What's coming up in the next chapter? Look at the last word of this chapter. Does she have an appointment with the Grim Reaper? We'll have to see...

Special thanks to reviewers Shakespira, Tyanilth, Dark Chubb, Gene Dark, Cloud1004, Dante Alighieri, Aura, Arsinoe, JackOfBladesX, Enaid Aderyn, and Naomis8329. You all rock the house!

Thanks also to those of you who have alerted the story this week...you put a big smile on my face.