"The city was founded by the Tevinter Imperium, during the height of their civilisation, but it changed hands many times since. The Marchers held it until the Storm Age, before Orlais annexed Kirkwall. Well, I say Orlais, but really, it was one man. You'll like him." Leliana grinned. "He bought the entire island because he was tired of Orlesian foppery and wanted some peace."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Foppery? He said that?"

"His own words. He wrote many letters, so we know quite a bit. His name was Antoine Bourdain, and he was a great chef. In fact, most Orlesian confections build upon his work."

"You're right. I do like him." Anyone who could call an entire nation a fop and get away with it, Alistair liked. "How long ago was this, though? Didn't the people object to just being bought by some Orlesian busybody?"

Leliana placed her head on his shoulder, humming. "Not really. You see, the people here never really cared who they paid their taxes to. Regimes and empires never meant much. Even now, most people are bilingual. They hold on to Tevinter and Marcher customs and adopt Orlesian ones on top. In the Storm Age, the island was a part of Kirkwall. But then the Qunari came and Orlais drove them out, claiming the city for themselves. That's when Antoine bought it. Right from the Emperor. It's been part of Orlais ever since."

Alistair kissed the top of her head and watched the sun melt into the Waking Sea. The waters glimmered like molten metal, taking on almost a blood red hue. The villa's verandah overlooked a steep cliff, with the sea stretched out endlessly before them. Across them, on the other side, was Nevarra. Slightly to the right, the Free Marches. Orlais lay behind them, with Ferelden to its right. Rocking gently on a swing for two, overlooking the grand horizon, it was remarkably easy to lose oneself in it.

"It's a good base to have," Alistair admitted. "You said there are what... 3,000 people here?"

"Approximately. Guess what the main industry is?"

"Fishing."

"Uh-uh. Wrong." She smirked up at him. "Shipbuilding."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Almost one-third of all Orlesian warships are built right here."

"That's amazing." The villa sat atop a small hill, on the western coast of the island. It gave him an unrestricted view of the town below, and Alistair watched lights appear one by one in the windows and streets. Dusk would fall shortly, and the town seemed to be coming alive to meet it head-on. "So if you take Bourdain, you could cripple the Navy?"

"Not really, but it would definitely stall ship production. Kirkwall has tried to reclaim it in the past, but no luck so far."

"Well, so long as nothing happens while we're here," he replied, stroking her shoulder and pecking her cheek. "I've had my fill of political intrigue, thank you very much."

"Good thing you're not on the mainland, then." Leliana patted his thigh. "People would have been clamouring to meet you. There would have been riots! Festoons, fanfare." She grinned. "Free cheese."

He liked the sound of free cheese, but he wouldn't be telling her that. "But why?"

"Well, you did stop a Blight."

"Good thing I'm here, then." Alistair took Leliana's hand and brought it to his lips. "Excellent company, marvellous view, good food..." he trailed off. "I am hungry, now that I think about it. Shall we get some dinner now, or d'you want to go later?"

The villa had belonged to Leliana's guardian, Lady Cecilie Vasseur, and she had taken control of it after the Blight. Though she had hired a housekeeper to keep the place tidy, hiring a cook didn't make sense if she was to be away for most of the year. Last night, they had dined at a seaside pub, and Alistair had loved it. He was looking forward to more.

"We can go now, if you want." Leliana thought for a bit, then nodded and stood up, stretching. "Yes, we should go now. We'll eat, take a stroll by the beach afterwards, and come back." She then turned around, brushed her hair back and smiled at him. "Good?"

"You lost me at the hair toss," Alistair replied, gaping openly at her. It was true. She was stunningly beautiful, silhouetted against the setting sun in a flowing blue dress. The sea breeze ruffled her hair and by the time it carried her laughter to his ears, he was lost again. "I'm fine with whatever."

"Come," Leliana said, and held out her hand. When he took it, she pulled him to his feet. "I'll take you somewhere special."

"Anywhere with you is special."

"Extra special, then."

"Where?"

She smiled. "Antoine Bourdain's restaurant."