Ok so I'm so sorry for not updating in like 3 months. It was a mixture of school and just pure laziness. I actually had it done for quite a while but you know... Anyways hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I think it's the longest chapter so far! Woooo!

Chapter 6: Swooping is Bad

Daylight streamed into the room through dusty windows. Alistair sat on his desk and looked at dust particles floating in the air. Completely lost in thought, his quill had been thrown onto a pile of papers that still needed to be signed. He was thinking of her. Of Solona, the woman who disappeared completely three years ago.

The king leaned back in his seat and brought his arm up to rest his chin. He still remembered the morning that he received a letter from her about a journey to find a cure to the taint. A journey that would help them both, if only she had come back.

Alistair glanced at a letter on his desk from Bann Teagan, complaints about the mages that were harboring in Redcliffe. The king thought that maybe Solona had gone into hiding, and that he would find some connections to her from the rebel mages. But he had found nothing. And now that the mages were causing trouble, he could not just cast them out. He could not break promises so easily anymore.

Suddenly, he felt a shift in the air and in front of him appeared an elf. Alistair jumped at the sudden intrusion. "Maker!" he stood up.

"My king," Zevran bowed with a crooked smile. "I am here at your service." He bowed slightly.

Alistair shook his head. "How do you do that!?"

"Do what, my king?"

"That swooping thing. And stop calling me that!"

"Calling you what, my king?"

"That my king," Alistair imitated his Antivan accent. "It's creepy."

"Whatever you say, my king," Zevran smirked.

Alistair narrowed his eyes, "I hate you."

"I know," Zevran smiled. "But you will love me after I tell you what I've found."

Alistair put his hands on his desk, "Is it about—"

"Yes, the warden."

"Where is she!? Do you know?" Alistair's knuckles turned white from his grip on the desk.

Zevran reached into a hidden pocket behind his collar and pulled out a parchment, "Well I stole some letters from that new organization that our dear Lelianna has joined. But then I gave them back, so I guess you could call it borrowing."

"The Inquisition?"

"Is that what it's called? I had no idea."

"Yes, you did."

"Yes, yes. I did."

Alistair blinked, "After all these years, I still don't understand you Zevran."

"And you never will, my king," Zevran smiled. "Well, back to the matter at hand, the Inquisition has decided to assist the mages at Redcliffe."

"Really?"

"Yes, but that is not important here."

"Yes, it is," Alistair threw his hands up. "Why am I hearing about this only now!?"

Zevran shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know. But anyways, after finding some information on the matter I headed to Redcliffe as fast as I could."

"And?"

"And I discovered some interesting information about the location of a few phylacteries," Zevran smiled.

"You mean—"

"Yes, my king. There is a chance that we may be able to find the Warden's phylactery."

Alistair sat down and sighed heavily, raising his palm to his face, "Then, we can find her."

"Maybe. They said that they are hidden somewhere in Denerim."

Alistair smiled widely. "Somewhere in Denerim is quite general. But it's a shot I'm willing to take." Alistair stood up and walked towards the window. He gazed out at the royal garden. "Zevran, I want you to prepare a few men, ones that you know can be discrete and then report back to me."

"Of course. I will do so hastily."

Still looking out the window, Alistair suddenly spotted Anora walking through the hedges, two servants following close behind. His eyes darkened at her presence. "Also, do not tell the Queen. She does not need to know." Alistair took another deep breath. "Zevran, did you hear me. I—"

Alistair turned around to find that Zevran was no longer in the room. "How does he do that?" Alistair asked himself.

Anora was angry. She was angry at the maids who did not properly clean her tub. She was angry at the mages, at Bann Teagan who annoyed her about the mages, but she was mostly angry at the king. Again, Alistair had stopped the construction of the statue in the front of the palace. All of stone masons were sent back by the royal guard.

She was now pacing furiously to the King's chamber, an apparent difference from the Queen's usual elegant walk. Anora waved the two maids away that were behind her as she reached the Royal wing. Using a heavy hand she barged into Alistair's study. Sweat covered her forehead and she was shaking.

Alistair's shoulders jumped at the sudden sound, "Maker!" he shouted. "Why is everyone scaring me today!?"

Anora strutted into the sunlight room. "How could you?!" she bellowed.

"What?!" he lifted his hands up defensively. "What have I done?"

"You" Anora pointed a finger at him. "Why have you stopped the statue from being built?"

Alistair's eyes darkened and he brought them to hers. "I will not have your traitorous father's sculpture lie in front of my palace."

"We agreed that a statue would be built to honor someone's memory, as I do remember."

"Yes, but not Loghain's memory."

"And why not?!"

Alistair walked towards her and looked down at her. "Because he deserves no honor," he whispered poisonously.

Anora furrowed her eyebrows, "And who would you rather have, my king? Whose face should be on the statue? Would it be that whore of yours?"

He gripped onto her arm, "If you have any sense, then you will not be speaking of Solona!"

She smiled lopsidedly, "And what if I am?"

He pulled the Queen closer, "She did so much for me. For us. Have you nothing to be thankful for?"

Anora slapped his hand off her wrist, "That monster killed my father," she bellowed. "Your father-in-law! In cold blood!" Her head tilted down. "I want nothing to do with that vile woman."

"Get out…" Alistair whispered.

"Why did you even marry me?"

"Get out," he repeated, looking down with his fists by his sides.

"You should have married her!" Anora shouted. Tears welled in her eyes, "I cannot give you what you want!" She was shaking, tears running down her face.

"Anora, please just go." He biting his lip to hold back tears, "Please, I'm begging you."

Wordlessly, Anora opened the door and walked out, quietly closing it behind her. After she left, Alistair stumbled back, his back finding the edge of his desk. He slumped down to the cold, stone floor. His mind migrated to the lonely nights with Anora. Their forced, awkward, cold nights together. The after-glow of passion that he experienced with Solona was nonexistent with Anora.

He would lay awake, his eyes open towards the ceiling. Anora would have fallen asleep, her steady breathes on the far end of the bed from him. Like this, they had three children, one stillborn, one sickly, and the third blind. Alistair knew that the chance of having children was small with the taint coursing through his veins. He had a child with Morrigan, but it had been with the help of her ritual. But Anora was completely barren. Eamon told Alistair that she was not able to become pregnant when married with Cailan.

But Ferelden needed an heir, something for stability. So, they resorted to blood magic. Alistair didn't want to. He opposed it adamantly with the abominations of the Circle in his mind. But Anora pushed him to agree with it. She came in touch with an apostate, like Isolde had done ten years ago. The ritual was done behind closed doors.

Alistair remembered sitting in a chair outside the room. It lasted around three hours. Three hours of Alistair wiping his sweat with a handkerchief, thinking about how he should not have agreed to this. Worrying of what may happen. Then, the door creaked open to a weak, drained Anora. She wore the face of an empty woman, just a shell, so pale and exhausted.

Anora turned her eyes slowly towards Alistair, who had stood up. They just stared at each other for a few moments, until she collapsed into his arms, and the guards nearby ran to them. They carried her body to their room.

Alistair had ran back to the blood mage and pinned him against the wall, holding him by the collar of his robes. That same look was in his eyes that Jowan had. Fear. "What have you done?" Alistair had seethed. Eamon had entered to calm the matter and the mage was executed the next morning.

Anora; however, managed to become pregnant a year later. A miracle it was, until the babe had come out. He never cried out or even took a breath. He had just lied silently in Anora's shaking arms as Alistair looked on in grief. They never named him, and he was never spoken of again. Their next child had lived, although barely. Now at the age of five, Alec, was just starting to show signs of life. He had just begun to run and play, although most times his fun would end with fits of coughs. And at the age of two, Rose, had opened her beautiful blue eyes, but they never moved. And they never saw.

Alistair sighed heavily thinking of his children. His blood. He heard the door creak open and noticed the sound of boots tapping on the floor. Without looking up Alistair whispered "Zevran, you're back. And so quickly."

"Hey boy! What is this sad excuse of royal ale you got here!?" a loud raspy voice suddenly came.

"What!?" Alistair looked up in shock at the voice. "Oghren!" Alistair's widen with shock as he looked at the familiar dwarf. Zevran stood beside him arms crossed and a toothy smile on his face.

Oghren held up the mug of ale to the man behind him. "I mean look at this shit. It looks like piss and smells like it too."

"When has smell ever deterred you from drinking?" the man replied.

Alistair glanced at the man behind Oghren, "Nathaniel Howe," he let out an unsteady breath.

Nathaniel's eyes studied the king's position on the floor. There was a sorrow in his voice and an obvious melancholy in the air. He knew that Alistair had once fought aside Solona to defeat his father during the Blight. Zevran had even hinted that their meeting would not be easy. The king was eyeing him with distrust and hatred.

"Zevran," the king put his palms on the ground and stood up. "When I said bring reliable people, I didn't mean this!" He stalked behind his desk, his eyes never leaving Nathaniel's. He gripped the edge of his desk I distress. First Anora and now this.

Zevran shook his head with a small laugh. "My good king, these are reliable men, I assure you."

"Reliable?! You got a drunken dwarf and a traitor's son to help us find Solona!"

Nathaniel took a step forward. "She was my friend, too!" he yelled with a heavy voice.

Alistair laughed a little, "Your friend?" He turned around to face the window, folding his arms behind his back. Alistair stared into the distant garden where Anora had been walking before. He remembered how Solona had always spent her time in the royal garden whenever she had come as the arlessa of Amaranthine. She would sit upon a moss-covered stone ledge in mid-day light. Her long black hair would be flowing in the warm wind as she sketched the golden flowers growing and blooming around her. The mage would never stay inside unless she had to. She had always reveled in warm weather and sunlight on her face.

"My king?" Alistair heard Zevran say as he stepped out of his thoughts. "Should we go along with the plan then?"

Alistair looked back and saw the angry scowl on Nathaniel's face. He turned back to the window and gazed once more at the empty stone ledge before sighing. Alistair slightly nodded. His eyes closed tiredly.

"Very good, my king," Zevran smiled coyly. "I will head out to Haven tomorrow then to meet with the Nightingale. She most likely knows something that I do not."

"She won't be happy about the messages you stole, elf," Oghren said lifting his mug to his mouth.

"She will understand in time. And they were borrowed, not stolen," Zevran said as his eyes landed on the king's back. "My king." He bowed gracefully with a smile and turned himself towards the door. Oghren followed him out with a grunt, and Nathaniel was close behind. But before he closed the door behind him, the rogue took one last look at the king looking at the window before he quietly closed the door.