A/N: Attempt to bridge one of the bigger gaps the storyline makes: The Warden will always get the title regardlesss of who or what they are, so there must be some reason why even the most incompetent and/or unwilling ones get to wear the mantle. Criticism welcome.

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High Politics

Arl Eamon has agendas and is not used to having them shot down. Queen Anora does it anyway and in the process proves just who is the more farsighted of the two.

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Queen Anora pressed her fingers together, placed her chin on top of them and gave Arl Eamon a carefully measured look.

"It was the only reasonable course of action, Eamon."

The older man looked at the parchment resting on the table between his outstretched hands, willing it to say anything different from what he had read, and then kept rereading the whole morning.

"I don't understand how can you view," he tapped the parchment with one finger in a meaningful manner, "any of this as… reasonable, my queen."

Anora graced him with a smile. "I tought that of all people you would be the first to understand, Eamon," she said, voice warm but firm. A diplomat's voice. A queen's voice. Eamon was still deeply unhappy by the turn of events; in his mind, it should have been Alistair sitting on the throne, not Anora. Yet even he could not argue that Anora had exactly what it took to hold Ferelden together in the aftermath of the Blight. Education and experience both spoke in her favour, her bearing in the wake of the Landsmeet that ended in her father's blood nothing short of regal. And yet…

The missive on the table was as clear as it could be: The Arling of Amaranthine together with the late Arl Howe's seat of power, the famous Vigil Keep, have been officially handed over to the Grey Wardens. That was the first part and one he was familiar with even before he had left Denerim the previous month. The second part, however, was a complete surprise and one that left him baffled and disaproving all at once.

He looked up at the queen, cleared his throat and begun again:

"When you declared Vigil Keep the new seat of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, you had my full support."

Anora inclined her head but said nothing. Eamon had been less supportive of her decision to subsequently grant the entire Arling of Amaranthine to the Order, too, but in the end conceeded that it was probably for the best after all. The history of the Wardens in Ferelden had been a rather… turbulent one and the history of the Order in general always had that one same problem permanently stamped on its back: What good are the Wardens when there is no Blight?

Everybody wanted a strong Order while a Blight was actually happening. And for a while longer, the Wardens would be praised and worshiped for their service and sacrifise, but once that time ran out? In between Blights, no one had any use of them and gradually, people begun to see them as an unecessary burden rather than a boon in their midst. They were still people, and people needed to eat. And sleep. They needed training and equipment and all those things cost money. And why, people would invariably begin to grumble, should we be paying for all that when there was no Blight around and no need for those… parasites to even be?

People's memories were short. Years would roll by and the Darkspawn attacks would cease and before you knew it, a Blight was a relic of the past and with it, the Order formed to guard against it. Every few generations, the cycle would repeat itself and every time, the people wanted to believe that that was the last one. Because no one wanted to believe such horror could happen again.

Anora knew that, and saw a perfect opportunity to break the cycle by giving a whole Arling to the Wardens to tend. That way, the Order would be basically supporting itself, with no further need to draw tithes from royal coffers. With the funding issue resolved, there would be no fear of the Order dwindling in numbers again - quite the opposite even - and an Arling would be functioning exactly the same, no matter who its caretakers were.

"And when you called onto the Grey Wardens from Orlais to come and help rebuild the Order, I tought the decision bold but agreed it was a sensible one, too," Eamon continued. "Even with all the potential problems we both knew it would create at first."

Again Anora said nothing but understood the meaning behind Eamon's words perfectly. He was too tactful to actually say it, but the unspoken sentiment lingered in the air between them just the same. Orlesian presence in Ferelden was still a sore spot and would remain so for many years to come. The fact that it was the only daughter of the late Hero of the River Dane that invited them in had caused no small amount of turmoil in the kingdom - was the young queen about to ruin her father's entire legacy with one sweep of her lace-gloved hand? But it had also sent a powerful message to the people. Two messages, in fact. One, it had reaffirmed the notion that the Grey Wardens were apolitical and two, that rebuilding the Order and the reastablishment of its permanent presence in Ferelden had the queen's full support.

Coming on the heels of the just ended Blight, the decision was - mostly - welcomed by the people, commoner and noble alike. And it also made it that bit easier to swallow the fact that yes, they needed the Orlesians in order for that to work. At least at first, until the Ferelden Wardens were strong enough to take over on their own and, incidentally, send those bloody Orlesians back where they came from.

But of course, tolerance, understanding and the new-found appreciation for the Grey Wardens would only go that far. Eamon had fully expected for a Ferelden Warden to be appointed the official Warden-Commander of the Vigil Keep and, by extension, the new Arl of Amaranthine, too. He hadn't counted on Anora choosing the wrong Warden for it.

"But when you declared this…?" He left the sentence hanging.

Anora showed no inclination to fill the gap however and Eamon had no options but to eventually continue.

"Why her, my queen? Surely, you cannot think that Alistair isn't a better - a far better choice for both positions?"

Anora chuckled inwardly at how carefuly schooled Eamon's voice was. He was deeply dissatisfied at Alistair not being declared the rightful king and he likely always will be. Still, she had made it perfectly clear that that was not going to happen and had flat-out rejected Eamon's hopeful compromise of at least marrying Alistair as a king-consort in such a way Eamon was wise to conclude he should never bring up that topic again.

It did not stop the man from wishing for it regardless and Anora knew it was only a matter of time before he tried breaching the subject again. But right now he was attempting to make it a point that this was not such time and that his objections to her choice of the new Warden-Commander were purely pragmatic. She wondered if that were truly so…

But she couldn't deny he had some very practical objections and was well within his rights to raise them.

"She is the Hero of Ferelden, Eamon. For the time being anyway," she reminded him gently. "And presently, that counts for a lot."

"She is also an elf," Eamon countered bluntly. "And while it is an enormously bold statement on your part," he continued while privately still believing that even making the Denerim Alienage a Bannorn of sorts was too much, "there are some very real concerns about our... hero, to be taken into account."

He leaned forwad and pressed on. "I will not bring up her notorious temper right now - Maker knows there are nobles far worse than her yet hold their titles regardless. But my queen - she was born and raised in the Alienage. She has neither the education nor the experience needed to run even a Keep, let alone an entire Arling."

"Unlike Alistair?" Anora arched a brow, goading just a bit.

"At least Alistair was raised in noble holdings-"

"In a stable, you mean."

"In a stable, yes, and that is still much closer to nobility than she ever was." Unless it was with her knife at their throats, he added silently. "And afterwards in the Chantry, training to be a Templar."

"Which he never became."

Eamon stood up. "Which he never became, yes." He begun pacing. "But a Templar training instilled in him a sense of duty, knowledge of organization and a measure of discipline, all of which, I shall remind you, are essential traits for the one aspiring to run even a stable, let alone a Keep. I won't even bring up a whole Arling at this point."

He stopped his declamation and looked at the queen expectantly. Anora remained perfectly still, sitting as she were with her fingers still pressed together, chin on top of them and watching Eamon intently until he begun feeling slightly nervous.

"Sit, Eamon," she said at length and the Arl found his legs obeying even before his brain had registered the command.

Anora rose up from her seat without breaking eye contact for a second and righted herself to her full height.

"I have listened to your arguments, Eamon, and your arguments are sound. And now you shall be heeding mine."

She turned her back to her advisor and, placing her hands behind her back, begun to speak.

"You have made many points in Alistair's favour, Eamon, and I cannot rightfully disagree with any one of them. However, you have failed to consider some very obvious implications that your suggestion would have on my rule."

Anora stepped closer to the window and took a contemplative look outside.

"First of all, everyone in Ferelden now knows he is the late king Maric's bastard son. Everyone who politically matters anyhow. And you are not alone in your wishes to see this throne go to a one with." she grimaced a bit, though Eamon could not see it, "proper blood."

She paused a moment, letting her words sink in before she continued.

"Now, imagine what would happen if I gave Amaranthine to him. To begin with, that would grant him a title. A high title. High enough, perhaps, that he would make a proper and suitable match for a widowed queen?"

Eamon sat in silence.

"I am certain not a full year would go by before someone, or even several someones, would begin to put increased pressure in that direction, don't you agree?"

Eamon sank a bit in his seat.

"And that, Eamon, is not the pressure a queen can afford to deal with in these already difficult times of rebuilding our country from the devastation the Blight had left in its wake."

"Yet we are both aware," she raised her voice by just a tiny fraction as she heard Eamon shift in his seat, "that such attempts would surely come, and sooner rather than later at that. Which, in turn, would have every possibility of turning into an outright rebellion, should enough influential people misguidedly decide it is their obligation and duty to rally behind the one they percieve as the true king of Ferelden. Whether Alistair wants them to or not."

She turned away from the window and looked Eamon straight in the eye. "Do you not agree with me on this, Eamon?"

She let the question hang in the air between them few moments longer than strictly necessary before sitting down again, her expression blank.

"Ferelden cannot afford another war, Eamon. Not now, and not for a long time to come. I would see my kingdom flourish in peace, not ruined yet again by some silly, pointless agenda nobody should ever be considering in the first place."

Her point made, Anora relaxed in her chair and smiled sweetly. "So you see Eamon, it was not a matter of choosing a better Warden for the task - it was a matter of choosing the only Warden suitable for the task. There is a very capable Senechal in charge of the affairs in the Vigil Keep and I am certain both the Keep and the Arling will prosper under his supervision. And while it is true that the new Arlessa has much to learn, I am also quite certain that given enough time and proper guidance, anyone can learn to run things as is right and fitting."

A ghost of a smirk played on Anora's lips as she threw out that last bit, paraphrasing Eamon's own arguments about Alistair made not that long ago.

"Now, if that was all, Eamon…"

Eamon did the only thing he could. "Yes, my queen," he bowed and, without any more ado left the room, leaving a yet-again victorious queen to silently smile.