I want to thank once more my two amazing betas - hugs girls! And thank you so much for the new reviews and for all those kind enough to let me know either way how I'm doing. I can't express my thanks enough. Finally, here we meet my Warden and Alistair!

LCailan

CHAPTER FIVE

He's everything you want
He's everything you need
He says all the right things
At exactly the right time
But he means nothing to you
And you don't know why

-Vertical Horizon

Arl Eamon's Estate – eve of the Final Battle

Lucia fell back against the softness of the pillows on Alistair's bed and felt the wild hammering of his heart as he buried his face against her neck. Funny, how it was so easy to forget the creature comforts of life – even if you had been raised in wealth. She had known down pillows and silk sheets, heavy comforters and fragrant bath water all her life. But it had taken only a short while and the Blight to make her forget.

Now, even these moments, spent in his arms, in his bed – though it was Eamon's estate, seemed foreign to her.

Alistair whispered something into her neck and she stroked his back, running her hands along the familiar and muscular planes of his body. Something was different that night – and it wasn't just the fact that he had lain with Morrigan.

That's part of it.

She felt…well, whatever this feeling was, it was unsettling. It made her restless, feverish. Was it that she had just allowed her future husband to lay with another woman? Or was it that tonight – if everything they had worked towards and set in place failed horribly – would be their last night together?

I don't know!

Sighing, she allowed Alistair to snuggle in against her body, feeling his warmth envelop her in a false sense of security. His touch and scent were as familiar to her as the look in his soft brown eyes the moment she smiled up at him. Her fingers stroked his face and tangled themselves in the softness of his hair, and Lucia was struck by how intimate this moment was – how all these moments were. She had never been loved the way Alistair loved her. She had never known this devotion, this depth of trust. She had never allowed any man to know her the way the one in her arms did.

"Al," she whispered softly, resting her head against his shoulder, kissing the crook of his arm before she settled there, and then allowed herself a silent moment to listen to his breathing.

Maybe she was simply over analyzing what had happened that night – or maybe it was the battle to come. His role, her role, how she no longer felt equal to him, and that there was nothing she could do. Lucia had agreed to be Queen, allowed him to name her as his future wife, and accepted the fact that she was no longer his battle mate. She was now his bedmate, and the soon to be mother of his children; all the things that her family had hoped she would be eventually – and the things that Lucia had never truly wanted for herself.

The Queen of Ferelden. An honor none of the Couslands have ever been granted – and look at me! Will this be good enough? Will I finally be something-?

No.

I have to stop thinking about my family this way!

She stopped that endless train of thought for most of the time when she thought of her family the pain at the end was too much for her to handle. Her eyes fluttered open in silent frustration, and she could see the window of this room as it looked out on the darkened landscape below them. It seemed to stretch out over a never-ending black and navy horizon.

She saw none of it, however, for her mind was on a matter much more pressing. She hardly felt the gentleness of the fingers that moved messy strands of fiery red hair away from her forehead.

Somehow she had thought once the Landsmeet was over, and her destiny clear – that everything would fall into place. Maker knew that she deserved it. Her journey thus far had been peppered with nothing but tragedy and pain, loss and weariness. The only bright spots had been finding Alistair and…

No. She wouldn't think of him now. There was nothing to think about, for the betrayal she felt was much too great even though it had been months since it had happened. It was strange really, thinking of him now, when she hadn't had the inkling to do so since she had run him out of camp.

Stupid sodding elf. I hate himIhatehimIhatehim-

She felt the soft touch of Alistair's fingertips moving slowly up and down her bare arm, and it was this that caused her to snuggle back against him more closely, with barely veiled desperation.

Take this away, Alistair. Make it better, please, make it better. Why am I feeling like this now of all times?

"It's what happened tonight, isn't it?" murmured close to her ear, causing her to frown. "Something's different."

"Alistair, please," she managed to say, unable to move.

She couldn't look at him and wanted to run back to her own chambers so she wouldn't have to. There was an edge to his voice, a sadness that colored it and Lucia knew she wouldn't be able to put his mind at ease. It made her feel guilty, all of it really – the anger over Morrigan and being left behind in the castle while he was going to fight the Archdemon on his own, and now her thoughts about Zevran.

Sodding Zevran. Stupid, conceited, traitorous bastard Zevran.

The one man she never wanted to call by name, and certainly never wanted to think of again. Not when there were so many other things to think about! Alistair's coronation was imminent, and after it, their wedding was soon to follow. She was going to be Queen, and this, she hoped would give her a whole new set of things to focus on. Her father would finally come to Denerim when everything was over- and she had not seen him since leaving Castle Highever. And her brother – how she missed him, and most especially his laugh that had made life so much easier.

She couldn't wait to see her family, now that she had finally made something of herself. Now they wouldn't look at her strangely or in the patronizing way they had in the past.

As a child, she had been a tomboy.

As a young girl – unruly and rambunctious.

As a young lady – too tenacious and outspoken.

And now, well, they couldn't say a thing, could they? She was a Grey sodding Warden and soon to be queen to boot. So there – who cared if she had been just a little different? Maybe now they'd finally see her as their equal.

Shifting under the blankets, Lucia frowned as the old familiar feeling of being just shy of acceptance filled her. Queenly responsibilities, a whole country to run and to serve, and her family's full approval – it was what every women wanted, right? Lucia didn't understand her own feelings of uncertainty...especially the faint nagging at the back of her mind that something wasn't quite right. Her warring emotions filled her body and her heart, confusing her…and making rational thought impossible.

Behind her, Alistair sighed.

"When you get upset, you get quiet," he reminded her. "So I assume you're angry with me then? About Morrigan?" he asked, the worry marring his tone, and Lucia wanted to scream.

It wasn't fair that she was angry and irritated and a plethora of other emotions that she wanted to share with him, but couldn't. Frustrated with herself, she pulled away from him and flung herself on her back, her red hair spreading along the ivory pillow like a wildfire. She felt him do the same and could see in her mind's eye the pout that was bound to be on his shapely mouth – he wore it often during troubling situations.

"I didn't want to, you know," he grumbled.

"With Morrigan?"

"I hated every second, I swear."

His voice mirrored what Lucia imagined was horror.

"Did you?" she asked with muted mirth.

"Remember when we in the deep roads and we had to fight the broodmother?"

"What's the broodmother got to do with this?"

"I thought the broodmother was the most horrific…thing…creature I had ever come face to face with. And then I saw Morrigan without her clothes."

Lucia turned her head on the pillow to look at him, but she could only muster a surprised laugh. He returned that laugh with a smile that warmed his eyes.

"At least I got you to laugh."

He took her hand, sobering a moment.

"Lucia, didn't we both decide it was the best thing? That if I...I lay with her that neither of us would have to die? I know it was selfish, I know! But I couldn't...I couldn't stand the thought of losing you!"

Warm arms found their way around her waist and she indulged herself in those few moments of tenderness. How she loved him! She leaned back against his chest, nuzzling against the softness of bare flesh for a few blessed seconds. He was so strong, so…warm and alive. She could scarcely believe after everything that they had gone through that he was still by her side.

"I know," came her whisper. "I'm not angry about you and Morrigan. I'm angry with the situation, but never with you," she finished hoping that the weakened words would be assurance enough, for she didn't know what else to say.

His arms tightened around her, and he turned her towards him with a familiar gentleness. How a man as strong as Alistair could touch her so softly, she would never know.

"After everything we've faced," he began with confidence born of the great love that shone in his eyes, "I know...I know we can face what's coming. The Archdemon is nothing after I lay with Morrigan," he joked weakly, and it caused Lucia to smile.

She shook her head resting her cheek against his chest for a few moments. He smelled poignantly familiar; like the soap he used to wash up with and the faint scent of late spring air. His hand ran through the confines of her hair for a few comforting moments and she stared out at the night once more, feeling Alistair close against her. But this time, even the closeness was not enough to erase or even lessen her irritation. She lifted her head up from his chest, resting her chin upon it so she could look into his face.

"Do you want to know all the things that are bothering me, Al?" she tested with some hesitation.

"Of course."

"Even if…if they might upset you?"

"I might not be the brightest, but I know that even if this was meant to be, we're going to have problems."

He spoke with quiet confidence; it was one of those things Lucia had always loved about him – he was not an arrogant man even though he had much reason to be. She took a huge breath.

"It's…it's everything. It's tomorrow, the fight with the Archdemon. It's knowing that I'm letting you go, and you…you might not come back. And it's…it's jealousy too. Not over Morrigan, but over not being at your side!" she said, suddenly allowing her true feelings to come to the surface. Her emerald eyes sparkled with unshed tears of frustration. "After all these months, shouldn't I get to be there too? Is it because I'm a woman, Alistair? Do you really think I need that much protecting? I'm a fighter! When have I given you reason to believe otherwise?"

Her gentle accusations were met with the falling of his face.

"I'm sorry," he replied contritely. "I know. You're right – I just – the thought of losing you-"

Lucia sat up, giving him a glare.

"Come off it, Alistair! You know very well I could lose you too," she pointed out, her voice tense. "Sometimes for being so smart you don't make a whole lot of sodding sense!"

"Fair enough," he replied, brown eyes widening. "But what's the point of risking both our lives? Why did I sleep with Morrigan if it wasn't to save our lives, Lucia? Unless you think I did it for pleasure."

A rare scowl marred his usually gentle face.

"I would understand leaving you behind and going to fight the Archdemon knowing I would die if I succeeded," he continued without letting her interrupt. "But this is different. This is you and me knowing what I did with Morrigan would ensure both of our lives were spared, right?"

Lucia stared at him coldly but did not speak so he continued with an obvious shudder.

"Right. So that means that we don't have to face this if we don't want to. And I WANT to because…because I'm the new king, and I want to prove that…that…I can do something for YOU. All this time, don't you see that you've been the driving force? If I didn't love you so much I'd…I'd be so angry that some woman can outsmart me and outfight me, and…"

He was red in the face, and she leaned up quickly to peck him on the mouth.

"All right, hush," she soothed. "I'm sorry – you wanted to know, remember?"

Still pained, Alistair nodded, relaxing only slightly with the touch of her hand on his shoulder, and then along his neck. He took a few breaths before speaking once more.

"After the Blight is over, I promise you I'm going to make the best husband in the whole of Thedas, I swear," he vowed, pressing a tender caress against her jaw. His lips were warm. "Please…try to understand. Let me do this for us. For you," he continued to whisper huskily, his fingers winding themselves in red locks of her hair.

She could then feel the weight of the ring that Alistair had offered so bashfully after the Landsmeet. In some ways, she would never forget his genuine if incredibly shy proposal. She knew, after everything they had been through, that his love was more real than any she had ever experienced or would have experienced. She forced herself to think of the coming marriage, and her life after it – it was what she had chosen, after all.

I do love him! I can try to understand this. But it won't be sodding easy.

Her words were pained when she finally spoke, something nagging on her troubled heart.

"This coronation and the wedding coming up makes me think of Father," she said in a tiny voice.

Alistair's fingers were languidly playing within her hair.

"Which makes you think of your Mother?" he guessed.

She could sense his sympathy, but could only muster a sigh. Alistair kissed the top of her head.

"When I'm king, I'll find out who did it," he vowed. "Your mother wasn't supposed to die. She was murdered and I'll get to the bottom of it, I promise. We can even go to Antiva, if you want."

Lucia sat up, feeling a tightening of her heart, and with that came the same pain she had felt the afternoon Zevran had –

"You'd go to Antiva with me?" she asked, and then her face turned down into a grumpy frown. "Antiva makes me think of that damned Zevran," she muttered under her breath and with that came a string of choice words which should have made a proper man like Alistair blush if he hadn't been used to Lucia's tendency towards non-eloquent language.

"Why do you think he didn't just kill us outright?" she asked him then, though she expected no answer.

What she did expect, and what came was a flood of anger, betrayal and pain. She fought hard to keep breaking down about it, for she had done enough crying over a worthless elf who had clearly never given a damn about her.

"That's what he was sent to Ferelden for, right? Why didn't he just kill us? Why did he turn it into some sick game of cat and mouse? He's…he's…"

Alistair's reached up with both hands to hold her.

"I think you've probably exhausted all possible words, Lucia," he murmured with a hint of amusement.

But she was fired up now and her eyes flashed hatefully.

"Not even close!" she raged. "He's a stupid nug humping bastard elf…"

She sighed and buried her face into his chest once more, as if her anger had drained her completely. When she spoke it was not full of anger any longer.

"I just…I thought…I thought…"

Lucia fell silent, unable to say more and she only felt Alistair's gentle arms tighten around her protectively. She let out a shuddering sigh, blinking away hot tears of disappointment and anger.

Why? Why did he join our party? Why did he so easily integrate himself with us, and Maker, help me, how was it that I trusted him so easily? That's the worst part of all of this! I TRUSTED him!

"I just thought he was my friend," she finally uttered in a strangled whisper.

What frustrated her most was the fact that Zev could have been much, much more if…

Alistair's words cut into unwanted thoughts.

"I blame myself for some of it, Lucia," said Alistair then. She gazed into his troubled face.

"Alistair, stop – you know it wasn't…"

"If I had told you right away about Cailan being my brother, you wouldn't have turned to him," he muttered and Lucia could feel the tension creeping into his usually honeyed voice. "Don't try and say no. I know it. You turned to him because you were confused about me, and I was an ass. I know it," he finished simply. "The way I was behaving gave you no reason to trust me so you chose to trust someone else."

Lucia shifted in his arms, thinking for a moment on that time.

Meeting Zevran had been…

Well, it hadn't been like meeting Alistair, anyway. She had felt something upon her first glance at Zev and it hadn't been definable. It had just been. Some things she couldn't explain. Some things were crazy, unpredictable, just like Zevran himself. And those things…they made her heart hammer with excitement and her fingers and toes tingle. But how could she tell Alistair something like that without rousing his doubt in her love which surely she had given enough doubt to already?

"You might be an ass," she agreed, "But this wasn't your fault. None of us could have known what his true intentions were. An assassin is always an assassin, I suppose."

She trembled with hatred, but underneath it all…

She knew her trembling was not just from the betrayal but her own weakness when it came to Zevran Arainai. Who was he anyway? Who was he to turn on her in such a way when she had hoped, prayed, for an ally…someone she could trust! An Antivan Crow! The same kind that had murdered her mother so many years ago!

She was overwhelmed by everything that had transpired when Zevran admitted who he had been. He had left then, leaving behind unanswered questions and Lucia's broken heart. Questions about who had hired him? Had it been Loghain or someone else? Questions about what he might know about her mother, for as angry as Lucia was, she still often wondered if there was someone out there who would be able to clear up her doubts and worries. Her own father refused to talk of that time. And worst of all, Zevran had left behind questions about her love for Alistair, whom she had been certain had her heart until the roguish elf had nearly stolen it. And he had done hardly anything! That was infuriating – a man who wrangled feelings out of her without even trying.

It was preposterous! She was lying in the arms of a man who knew her inside and out. He knew the way her mind worked and sometimes knew what she was thinking before she spoke of it. He knew those parts of her no one else did and when it came to love making, well, he had discovered intimate places on her body which she herself had never known existed.

And yet, it was a man who hardly knew her – whom she had hardly even kissed – that stirred her blood.

Bleeding Maker!

She began to cry against him and Alistair whispered soft words to her.

Lucia clung to him, for she didn't know where else to turn, where else to take her confused and troubled emotions. Alistair loved her – at least in this she was certain. She felt the weight of his ring on her finger, and she took a deep comfort in knowing that she was making the right choice and once she was Queen, she could do as she pleased. The Blight would end. She would take the throne alongside her husband, the King of Ferelden, and then she could track down the Crow and destroy him the way he had nearly destroyed her. Revenge. Tit for tat. Her heart hammered wildly inside her chest, and she hoped Alistair could not feel it, for he had yet to inspire such passion in her. For this she felt awful, but it couldn't be helped.

She turned up her face, meeting his eyes in the dimly lit room. Beyond the window, it was dark and lonely, but here, in the safety and comfort of his embrace, she felt her tears slow, and her heart settle. Yes, this was the right choice she knew. No matter what she had felt for anyone else, especially the traitor Crow, she belonged with Alistair.

For Alistair deserved this. A happiness he had always wanted, a woman he would never betray, and a real, pure love.

I DO love him, she thought once more, even though the words felt incomplete.

"What can I do?" he asked, his voice low and touched with helplessness.

Lucia leaned up, sliding herself along his body.

"Distract me," was her reply before she devilishly captured his mouth with her own, forcing herself to forget everything but the way he would make her feel.