Author's note

Apologies for the delay in getting the wedding chapter out, just got back from holiday! As many of you are probably aware there are two missing chapters between Chapter 37 and this one. So if you're following the story in strict chronological order look for the piece called Gifts which is set three days before the wedding, and then the piece called The Art of War which is set the morning of the wedding and read those first. Otherwise - read on! The wedding vows owe something to the Book of Common Prayer, something to the early form of the Roman Catholic Nuptual Mass, and a chunk to my own imagination :)

The Chantry if not as elegant and beautiful a building as it had been before the fires and devastation at least had a roof now, and solid walls of stone, many of them parts of the old city walls that had separated city districts. Willing hands had limewashed it inside and set up rough wooden benches, but the press of guests at this wedding was such that over half the congregation was forced to stand. And ten times as many people again were thronging the Market Square outside, setting up for the biggest party that Denerim had seen in years.

Loghain was on his feet for the fifth time in as many minutes and craning his neck to peer down the aisle to the double doors. "She should have been here by now."

Zevran laughed. The elf was occupying the next seat on the hard bench. Loghain's choice of an elf - and not just an elf, a former Antivan Crow - as one of his groomsmen had raised a lot of eyebrows. Nobody had dared raise any objections - at least not within the General's hearing. "My friend, it is the privilege of a bride to be fashionably late to her own wedding. It gives everyone time to admire her on her way to the Chantry, it keeps the groom on edge. She will be here."

He nodded and sat down but two minutes later stood up again. The Chantry was warm despite the late winter morning, the press of bodies inside it had raised the temperature of the building considerably. "You don't think some idiot let that hairdresser back in the room after I left, do you? Or the dressmaker? If they did..."

Zevran shook his head. "No. Of that I can assure you. I suspect the hairdresser is on the way back to Orlais after what the bride said to him, and the dressmaker is probably still having her hysterics in the pantry, the stupid woman was showing no signs of stopping when I left. And besides," he added, "with Wynne and Leliana to attend the bride in her chamber, if either of them appeared again I am sure they either got an ice bolt in the face or an arrow in the backside. Your bride is in safe hands, my friend. Patience."

He heaved a sigh. "Patience, Zevran, as Cauthrien here will tell you, was never my strongest point."

"My lord, that isn't true." Cauthrien stood beside Loghain, fully armoured and at attention, as she had stood beside him so often before in peace and in war. His selection of a woman as his other attendant had raised even more eyebrows than the elf. The Grand Cleric had even written him a polite and frosty letter expressing her disapproval at this departure from tradition and stating that a groom's attendants should be his male friends, but she had stopped short of forbidding it outright. Just as well really, as his reply to the letter would have been considerably less polite than the one he had eventually sent to her. And the letter he had sent to her had been rewritten by his daughter before she would permit him to send it. He had commented that despite immense provocation he had refrained from calling the woman a dried up old trout and what more did Anora want? Anora, shaking her head, had torn up the letter, drafted another one herself and stood over him while he copied it out. It pointed out in sweetly reasonable terms that if a woman had with the Maker's help defended the city against its foes, then the Maker surely could in no way be displeased at the presence of said woman standing beside the man who had commanded the army which lifted the siege, on the joyous occasion of his wedding day. They had received no reply to this. Anora had told him to count that as a win.

Cauthrien went on. "You have on many occasions been very patient. But," a hand swept in a circle, indicating everyone in their seats, sweating, fidgeting and peering over their shoulders, "this is not the easiest of situations in which to demonstrate the virtue."

He looked at her with affection. "Cauthrien, you do not need to defend me here. We are among friends and those friends know me." He turned away to look down the aisle again.

"Father!" That was Anora, seated directly behind him, and sounding exasperated. "For Andraste's sake, sit down! When I left the palace all was well, and they were going to leave about ten minutes after I did. She will be here shortly."

He shrugged and sat down. Zevran gave him a look of sympathy.

But now they could hear the cheering outside - the whole of the Market District had turned now into one huge congregation, and there were Circle mages standing near the Grand Cleric who were charged with the task of making her words audible to those outside. For choice Loghain would not have had the Grand Cleric officiate at the wedding at all - the woman had dressed him down in public at the Landsmeet and while he was honest enough to admit that she had had some justification for her words, it had not improved relations between the two of them. But with the wedding having become this much of a public party, it would have been very hard to ask any other priest to conduct the ceremony without causing huge offence. Better not to ruffle any more feathers. Anora was probably at the limits of her patience with her father as it was.

The great doors swung open, the minstrels struck up an air which he vaguely recognised but could not put a name to, and those still seated within the Chantry came to their feet. He could see a ripple of bows and curtseys as the two people came down the aisle. Muirnara was dressed in a high necked yellow silk dress with a sheaf of white flowers over one arm and a wreath of the same flowers in her hair. Her free hand rested on the arm of her brother, but it was clear that the reverences were not being made to the Teyrn of Highever but to his sister, and the formal bows were deep enough for a reigning monarch. Denerim knew to whom it owed its salvation. Loghain had commanded the army that raised the siege, but it was down to Muirnara's work that there had been an army at all.

And a lot of the admiration being expressed for his bride was nowhere near as reverent as the bows. Behind him, near the wall, he could hear a group of his soldiers from Maric's Shield, discussing her with soldiers' usual lack of inhibition. He had a smile on his face at the snippets of conversation that he heard, but the smile dropped at one of the comments. "And how the General snared an armful like that is beyond me. Young enough to be his daughter, and he a widower and no oil painting himself!"

Cauthrien had heard it too, he could see her about to furiously turn on the soldiers and he stopped her with a touch on her hand. "Let it be. It will have been said by many, and not as kindly." It was something he had thought himself, waking at night with Muirnara in his arms, a warm weight pressed against him, that he had not deserved this blessing and that the Maker would have a reckoning for this joy one day.

But that reckoning was clearly going to be postponed. For Muirnara had seen him now, and the blaze of joy and love on her face transformed her. Nobody looking at her could doubt her feelings for the man waiting for her, and even the Grand Cleric's face had cracked into something approaching a smile. It appeared to be an expression she was not used to.

The service began, and Loghain became aware that it was the most formal version of the wedding ceremony used by the Chantry. That would have been Muirnara's doing again - her reasoning had been much the same as her reasons for not changing the Joining ceremony. Their hope for a Circle and Chantry not at perpetual war in this land was not going to be achieved easily - if one wishes to overthrow centuries of tradition then it is not a bad starting point to at least show respect for some of those traditions in the ways that one is able.

When the Grand Cleric made the centuries old request "Who gives this maiden to be married to this man?" and Fergus passed his sister's hand to her, Loghain suppressed a smile. The public assumption was always made that a woman of rank went chaste to her marriage bed, and while it might be true of a few cloistered daughters of the nobility he had always suspected it wasn't true of many. And there was nobody in the army who did not know that the General and the Warden Commander had shared a tent and a bedroll throughout the march to Denerim. But he schooled his face to stillness and politely listened to the old woman first lecturing Muirnara on the duties of a wife and then Loghain himself on the duties of a husband.

But in another sense of the word "maiden" it was still entirely true. He had thought for a long time that Muirnara had retained a surprising innocence despite all the things that had happened to her in the previous two years. Not naivety, nobody could ever accuse her of that, but a persistent ability to see the world and the people in it as better than they were - he had told her once it was her strength as a leader that her people then lived up to her vision of them rather than disappointing her. And she had mothered her party of misfits through a year that should have destroyed them all, and she had many times displayed a mature wisdom that would have graced a much older woman that the Taint would never allow her to become. Maiden, mother, wisewoman, this was a woman who transcended all the boundaries and drew them to herself, and he remained in astonishment that somehow she had chosen him.

He became aware that the Grand Cleric had now addressed him twice and he took Muirnara's hand quickly and slipped the silver ring back onto the finger he had removed it from only a few hours before. Her green eyes met his with love and trust, and he spoke the old vows from his heart, praying for the strength to keep them.

"With this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee honour. With the strength of my arm I thee defend, Muirnara Cousland, my beloved wife, that with the Maker's grace no grief or fear may pass our threshold from this day until our days shall end. This I call upon these folk here to witness."

Muirnara spoke the reply. "As I also call them to witness that I take thee, Loghain Mac Tir, my beloved husband, that I pledge to thee my love, honour and obedience through all the days that the Maker shall send to us."

The Grand Cleric laid a hand over their joined hands and gabbled a prayer that was completely drowned out by the cheering that had started outside and was now spreading inside the Chantry itself. The wellwishers were now pressing around them, Leliana was hugging Muirnara and he found himself being thumped on the back and congratulated by Bann Teagan of all people. It was left to the Queen to restore order and signal to Cauthrien and the other soldiers present to form up an honour guard that would at least permit the wedded couple to get to the Chantry door, whereupon they were overwhelmed by more wellwishers and almost forcibly dragged to the dancing area that had been set up.

It was expected that husband and wife should dance the first set, and Loghain had had enough foresight to arrange that the music played for it should be a simple melody with well known steps, since he considered himself at best an indifferent dancer and had no idea of his wife's abilities. But it was clear that Teyrna Eleanor had taught her daughter well, they survived it with no mishaps and to the accompaniment of a lot of cheering.

As the second dance began, Muirnara was whisked away on the arm of her brother and Loghain took the opportunity to slip back into the crowds. The eyes of the spectators, as he had told her that morning, were all on the bride, and he managed to make his way over to where Oghren, Sten and Zevran had commandeered one of the wine vats and seemed to be trying to drink it dry.

Oghren leered up at him as he approached and pushed a wine cup into his hand. "Good work, Warden. Get that poxy dancing over as fast as possible, and leave the lady to do the honours. Couldn't agree more with the battle plan."

He laughed and accepted the cup. The weak winter sunlight had bathed the Market District in gold, and while still cold for an outdoor party, great braziers stood everywhere and mulled wine and hot food were being served. It seemed hard to believe that not two months earlier this had been a blood drenched battle ground, and to the best of his knowledge he had felled the Hurlock General not ten feet from where they were sitting now.

Anora was moving through the crowds, smiling at people and uttering the gentle greetings that she was so good at and that he had never had the art of. The elf and dwarf did get to their feet as she approached. Sten did not, but he inclined his head towards the Queen and she returned the gesture.

"I thought I would find you here, Father. I would drag you out to dance again if I thought I had any hope of success, but you won't go, will you?"

"Not for choice, no. Let me get around a couple of cups of wine, and you might persuade me."

That was when they all saw the elf coming towards them. Zevran's shoulders tightened, he had clearly recognised who it was. Oghren and Sten did not, but they had taken their cue from Zevran and their hands were resting on their sword hilts.

The elf halted and made a polite half bow. "General Loghain"

"Dirrlis." From behind the elf he saw Muirnara pushing her way through the crowd and gave her a hand signal to back away, her presence would draw attention that he really didn't want. "You have a message for me?"

"From Hahren Valendrian. He requests your presence in the Alienage at dawn tomorrow."

Loghain nodded. "I have been expecting this summons. Tell your hahren I will be there."

The elf nodded, bowed again, and made his way out towards the Alienage gate. Muirnara joined Loghain as soon as he had left. Anora had also been told the story of the Wardens' passage through the Alienage and the promises he had made, and the Queen's face was unusually grim. She opened her mouth to speak and Loghain forestalled her. "Not now, Anora. Tomorrow."

He turned to Muirnara who also seemed about to say something, and silenced her with a lingering kiss, drawing a few wolf whistles from people nearby. "And the same goes for you, wife. For tonight, I am going to take you back to that dance square and disappoint half the Bannorn by dancing every set with you. Then I am going to take you back to the Warden compound, and spend the rest of the night making you forget everything in the world except me. And tomorrow can worry about itself."

He took her hand and the cheers went up as they made their way back to the dancing, smiles on their faces, and only those who knew them well saw the courage that painted smiles over fear.