A/N: Just a quick thing I hadn't thought to mention before but a review makes me think is necessary to clarify; Awakenings hasn't happened yet, this is right (as in a matter of days) after Origin's end.

As far as Dragon Age lore goes I only have knowledge from in game and whatever a quick wikia check provides. I have not read any of the books or other media out there so if any character's past that I create contradicts some intricacy of canon…tough cookies.

Italics are flashbacks or thoughts.

This chapter has been updated.

Implicit Conversations

Walking slowly along the path that surrounded the palace Anora blinked at the water welling in her eyes. Inwardly cursing as she felt the chill night air brush the suddenly tear dampened skin of her pale cheeks the queen kept her head facing straight ahead into the biting wind and away from the men and women following in her wake. Shivering as the cold of the tin vessel she cradled bit into her fingers Anora closed her eyes against further tears as she remembered the warmth that used to greet her fingers when walking this same path as a girl. Moving confidently along well worn path Anora opened her eyes after she sightlessly turned a familiar corner knowing what sight would greet her. And there, as always, the past hit her.

Short legs working in a strange gait consisting of two normal steps followed by a long, skipping third step the small, blonde girl scurried to keep up with the tall man striding through the night beside her. Thin arms wrapped around her frame, teeth chattered as the chill crept through the material of her gown the child whined, "Father, I'm cold."

Looking down at the girl the in surprise that quickly gave way to concern the dark haired man frowned at the shivering girl, "I'm sorry, love, I should have thought of how the weather would treat you. Here…" Reaching down to engulf the child's small hands in one of his own well worn paws the man's frown deepened as he felt the icicle like fingers in his hand.

"Why are we going to the garden? Can't we just work during the day? We won't even be able to see anything now."

Passing into the walled off garden the pair moved past the rows of cabbages and root vegetables which comprised the decidedly plebeian garden. Reaching the far end of the plot the man sat on the dewed grass beneath an overhanging willow. Motioning for his child to sit he wrapped thick, warm arms around the shivering girl as she climbed into his lap. Kissing the golden hair piled atop the girl's head the man's voice whispered in her ear; reluctant to break the peace that hung over the garden, "This was your mother's favorite time of day. She always liked the silence and the feel of cool grass between her toes."

Pressing herself deeper into the heat coming off her father's body the little girl remained silent as he continued, "It was today thirty-five years ago that I proposed to her. I remember the day perfectly. She looked excited before I even had the chance to say or do anything." Chuckling he looked down at the girl's upturned, curious face, "You got your intelligence from her, daughter. She could always read me and that day was no different. Later you mother teased me saying she knew I was going to propose because it wasn't a holiday and I had cleaned the dirt from under my fingernails."

"Because you were a farmer!"

"That's right. Before I joined Maric, before all…this," he said encircling the palace in one motion, "I was a farmer and your mother the most beautiful cabinet maker's daughter in all of Gwaren. I won her approval not through the fame I now have but through our village's respect for being a hardworking, honest freeholder."

"But you're not a farmer anymore so why do you have this garden?"

"Because your mother loved me when I was just a farmer and as long as I have this I still feel like the man who earned her hand."

"I wish I had known her."

"So do I, sweetheart." Returning his misty gaze to his daughter Loghain shook his head, "Though I admit I'm glad she isn't here to see me freeze you half to death…I'd never be trusted with you again. Come on, Anora, let's get inside where it's warm. We'll come back here to tend the crops whenever I have a moment of time…but don't let me forget to bring a coat for you next time!"

Moving resolutely past the drawn up ranks of vegetables Anora knelt in front of the modest, wooden altar she had ordered placed in her father's old garden. Struggling to keep her arms from shaking Anora placed the simple, metal urn containing her father's ashes atop the altar; glad to be rid of carrying the physical manifestation of sorrow and hurt.

Using the opportunity of bowing her head in prayer to discreetly wipe her tears away Anora composed herself before standing. Assuming her position next to the altar Anora waited for the small funeral cortege to begin offering its respects. Staring fixedly ahead the queen suppressed the scornful expression that threatened to twist its way across her face as the first group of mourners approached.

Moving with an appropriate sheepishness the surviving members of her father's supposedly loyal guard, Maric's Shield, filed past the altar to pay their respects to the dead man who they had sworn to die defending. Ignoring the occasional pleading eye that flickered in her direction Anora stonily refused to offer any sign that could be misinterpreted as forgiveness.

As the last of the soldiers drifted off a small gaggle of uneasy looking men in tattered clothing hesitantly approached the altar's burden and the queen. Nose twitching as it registered the pungent scent that surrounded the fishermen Anora could only nod her thanks as the smelly, nervous spokesman for the fishermen clumsily expressed condolences from Denerim's community of expatriate Gwaren fishermen.

The insultingly small stream of mourners having dried up as the relieved fishermen followed in the guards' path away from the ashes Anora's enforced calm shattered. Hands flying to her mouth to muffle the sounds betraying her grief Anora stumbled over to the nearby willow tree; shoulders shaking as sobs wracked her body. Waving away Erlina's supporting hands the queen sank onto the soft, cool grass below the willow's drooping branches. Her handmaiden standing uselessly beside her Anora curled up against the tree's rough bark .as if seeking warmth and shelter from the night's cold.

"He saved Ferelden from Orlais" Anora said after what seemed an eternity as anger began burning its way through sadness.

"Yes, my lady." Erlina agreed, knowing her role in this conversation.

"And these are the only people in the entire country who remember that? A group of useless soldiers here to salve their consciences for abandoning their lord and fishermen still stinking of the wharves worried that their lives will now be more difficult with their patron is dead." Silence stretching out as she sat brooding Anora stared at the altar and urn that stood reflecting the moon's soft light. "For the Maker's sake he betrayed my husband and even I can remember and mourn the man he once was. Is it too much to ask for anyone in this nation of ingrates to do the same?"

"No, my lady."

Ignoring her handmaiden Anora's grief fully boiled away under the heat of her anger, "It's because of that damned Cousland brat. Everyone who has anything to lose is scared he'll take revenge on them for mourning my father."

"My lady, I-"

"And they're probably right; that bastard would."

"I hear someone coming." Erlina hissed. Bending down the handmaiden wiped Anora's face of tears and ruined cosmetics before helping the queen stand.

"If it's the Warden come here to gloat I'm going to kill him." Anora muttered. Nearly invisible in their black mourning dresses under the willow's boughs the two women waited.

The sound of footsteps crunching along the path growing louder Anora looked expectantly at the garden's entrance. Finally, amid the rustle of silk and clink of jewelry, a small knot of men and women entered the garden and made their way uncertainly towards the plain urn. Eyebrows twitching in surprise Anora briefly caught Erlina's equally interested look before returning her appraising gaze to the mourners.

Looking closely at the group who were attempted to covertly scan the garden's entrance and any nearby windows for observers while still appearing to pay their respects Anora recognized several of the faces as members of Denerim's burgher council. Noting the merchant's shifting eyes looking intently at anything other than the memorial in front of them, as if the presence of her father's ashes here was somehow a distasteful intrusion, Anora was forced to quell her rapidly rising anger at the ingratitude. These fat merchants, who had once honored her father for accomplishing deeds against the Orlesians with his sword arm that their ink-stained fingers trembled to think of, were now concerned that someone might see them paying respects to that man…and that such an act was an embarrassment to their 'good name'.

Forcing herself to ignore filial instincts Anora considered the presence of the delegation of Denerim's burghers. In contrast to the previous groups of disgraced guards and worried fishermen these men were neither indebted to Loghain's memory nor respectful of his memory. Nodding as comprehension dawned Anora smiled, the unfamiliar expression straining muscles in her cheeks that had weakened from neglect ever since Cailan had left for Ostagar over a year ago. These burghers owed their current prosperity, prosperity evidenced by the tasteless ornaments which were seemingly endemic among Denerim's noveau riche, to the Crown's recent economic policies…her policies. Unlike the minor nobles, soldiers, and admirers who had formed the core of her father's support and were now unwilling to risk the Cousland brat's wrath these cowardly men were willing to risk that association. Smile turning rueful Anora shook her head as she considered the lessons these businessmen represented; feudal obligations, bonds forged in the fires of conflict, sacred oaths, hard won respect…all were ethereal things when compared to self interest.

Stepping forth from her concealing shadows Anora approached the huddled group of jittery burghers. Careful to maintain her air of regal detachment that would inform the merchants that, despite their newly elevated economic circumstances, they were nothing compared with the wealth and majesty of the Crown Anora swept towards the urn. A path hastily opening up for her Anora moved through the bowing group of peacocked nobles. Kneeling before the altar Anora observed a moment of silence, an action the assembled burghers imitated after a brief moment of hesitation.

Holding her position, protocol forcing the burghers to now also remained bowed before Loghain's memorial, Anora waited until the clanking of armor and loud banter heralded the approach of a guard detachment. The normally boisterous soldiers' voices quieting as they saw the unusual sight of in the vegetable garden Anora knew word would soon reach the ears of all interested parties. And, if the ever more nervous rustling of expensive cloth from behind her was any indication, the burghers also knew it. The patrol having past Anora stood, indicating that the kneeling merchants could also stand.

Motioning towards a nearby gateway Anora addressed the richest dressed burgher, recognizing him from a recent court session as Denerim's, and therefore Ferelden's, richest member of the third estate and presumably the informal leader of this delegation, "Cromarty, I appreciate your presence here at my father's modest resting place."

"I only regret, Your Majesty, that we have failed to get here in time for the service itself. Please, forgive us our rudeness."

"There is nothing to forgive, good Cromarty. Being able to share my grief over my father's passing is of great comfort to me in this time of sadness. It is, after all, only proper to pay respect at least to the Hero of the River Dane, even if not to the Regent." Anora stated kindly, pleased with the burgher's polite avoidance of Loghain's fall from grace, "Come, let us retire to the palace's fire-warmed halls before night's chill becomes unpleasant."

"We are honored by your invitation, my Queen, and, of course, gratefully accept."

Walking towards a nearby gate, the bejeweled merchants trailing behind them, Anora continued to exchange pleasantries with Cromarty and a rather annoyingly effusive burgher who had managed to insert himself in their conversation. Reaching the gate, whose guards hurriedly unbarred the entrance at her approach, Anora swept inside, thankful that the narrow entrance forced the flock of merchants to walk single file therefore placing the irritating burgher Cromarty had introduced as Banff further away from her. After several turns, more than strictly necessary to efficiently reach the particular reception hall she had in mind, Anora led the burghers through the palace's maze like corridors with an air of unwavering direction.

"My Queen," the babbling Banff excitedly began, "I have never been in this part of the palace. Your knowledge of its labyrinthine ways is remarkable. Why, I doubt even the guardsmen know their way around the palace with such deftness!"

"Thank you…Banff," Anora replied easily, the slight hesitation she added before his name bringing a smile to Cromarty's face that the burgher was unable to completely hide.

Noticing the Queen's eyes on him Cromarty hurriedly tryed to paper over any cracks in his facade the unseemly delight he found in Banff's humiliation caused, "Indeed, your majesty, though such might be expected from one as intelligent as yourself and who has spent her adult life as the mistress of this great house."

Nodding her thanks to the man for his compliment Anora chuckled inwardly as her quick eye noted Banff's face briefly cloud with displeasure at Cromarty's words. Yes merchant, let that be a lesson to you as to why men such as Cromarty are your betters. While you saw only that I know my way through the palace's confusing corridors Cromarty saw the true message…that I have been navigating the center of Ferelden's power for my entire life.

Dismissing the ambitious social climber from her mind now that his fellow burgher had effectively informed him to leave the talking to the adults Anora turned the final corner and led the small group into a warmly lit reception hall. Seating herself in the room's elevated throne Anora motioned for the burghers to make themselves comfortable. Amid much bowing, overly friendly gestures, and backstabbing glares the dozen burghers tried to seat themselves in the four available chairs in a manner according to their positions within Denerim's merchant community. Carefully observing their maneuvering Anora felt the thrill of political gamesmanship, the familiar sensation exciting her as it hadn't been able to since her role in the maneuvering that had resulted in her father's death.

As the burghers finally settled themselves into mutually acceptable positions, the majority not important enough to warrant chairs standing behind the seated merchants, Anora found herself surprised at the social rankings the seating arrangement showed her. Naturally, Cromarty occupied the position of honor in the center-right chair, a venerable, patriarchal merchant Anora vaguely recognized from court receptions as a salt-fish exporter sat to Cormarty's left in the 'second chair'. This was to be expected as Cromarty was the acknowledged leader of Denerim's merchant class while the elderly fellow was incredibly wealthy, if not particularly ambitious at this late stage in his life. No, the surprise was the occupant of the 'third chair'; Banff. Apparently the seemingly inept burgher was far more capable than he appeared at first glance; particularly since the last chair was occupied by a very young looking woman whose position among the 'big four' had been secured through several meaningful glances Banff had exchanged with competing burghers.

"Good burghers of Denerim, it is fortunate that you are here." Anora began once everyone was settled, "I realize that with the recent Blight military matters have absorbed the Crown's attention but now it is time to once again focus on economic growth as our nation begins the process of rebuilding."

"We have full confidence in your leadership, my Queen. Before the Blight it was your policies which strengthened urban production and we know you will continue to demonstrate your proven acumen." Cromarty replied.

"Your confidence inspires me, good Cromarty, and I assure you that I shall do everything in my power to rebuild and even expand Ferelden's trade; both within our borders and without." Anora said, confident Cromarty would comprehend the deeper meaning behind her words.

"Speaking on behalf of Denerim's burgher council let me extend our thanks to you, our Queen, for your continued efforts on behalf of Ferelden's Third Estate. We, the burgher's council, would like to assure you that in our desire to see Ferelden rebuilt we will freely place all our resources at your disposal knowing that such is our duty and, indeed, privilege to strengthen Ferelden as it prepares to face its future." Cromarty exclaimed as he stood from his chair and legged an elegant bow. "We have funds, a network of contacts throughout Thedas, and even some mercenary forces...all of which are at you disposal should any event necessitate their use."

"Your loyalty is inspiring, my faithful subjects and, with your assistance, there will be far less beyond my power than would otherwise be the case." Anora responded, letting her pleasure at the burgher's offer show in her voice. Meeting the meaningful gaze of Cromarty Anora knew they understood each other's insinuations, "I am thankful for your patriotism. As always, I will work to see men such as you, the backbone of Ferelden's economy, strengthened."

As the congregation of merchants exited the reception room in the wake of Anora's departure a faint blurring of shadows could be seen as a red-haired woman emerged from the flickering shadows cast by the room's many lamps. Darting through the open doorway the slender figure quickly made her away towards the eastern wing of the palace where the palace's prominent guests were being housed in the rooms least damaged by the Darkspawn's depredations.