A/N: Sorry for the delay, my dear readers. Tying up all the fiddly bits doesn't flow as well and I managed to get myself a wicked sinus infection. Not so good for the creativity, or the breathing. The good news is that this is a wicked fat chapter!

Duty's Choice: The Bastards of Ferelden - Chapter 38

Everything's Alright

9:36 Dragon, Spring 3, 5th day

"All set then?"

"Am I?" Elinora asked.

Wynne chuckled. "As much as any new mother ever is, maybe more."

"I have to go, don't I?"

"I'm afraid so."

"It hurts out there."

Wynne smiled her old smile. "It will get better."

A cry pierced the Fade. Elinora cringed and smiled at the same time. "I have to go. He's hungry again. Good-bye Wynne."

"Good-bye, my dear girl."

Elinora's eyes opened to the room they had opened to for most of her life. But the last baby to cry in here had been her, and now it was her son. Fitting, she thought.

Alistair was already up, Duncen cuddled against his bare chest, making cooing noises. He brought the baby over to Elinora as she sat up and tugged down her nightgown. Duncen happily latched on to the offered breast. Alistair slung a cloth over one shoulder and slid back into bed. He kissed her cheek and ran a loving finger down his son's. Snuggled next to both of them, he was prepared to do anything she asked or just enjoy a moment of quiet family bliss.

Elinora whispered, "What time is it?"

Alistair shrugged, "After midnight, before dawn."

"I noticed a messenger from Denerim showed up yesterday." Elinora stated casually.

"Oh no." Alistair used his firm voice, the one with a king's authority. "No politics or worldly problems. You are going to rest and recover." Duncen's birth had not been kind to Elinora's body and Petra was doing her damnedest to keep the new mother in bed. For once, she was following the mage's advice. "You're not allowed to even think about anything past healing and our little prince here."

The look Elinora gave him said he had no authority here. "I will rest, I will heal and Duncen isn't interested in much besides eating and being in my arms."

Alistair grinned. "Well then, my love, off you go, commanding armies with a baby on your knee. Wonder if they make armor with an easy-open breastplate? Can't have Duncen going hungry on the war path."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm not talking about going charging off into battle.

Besides, you sent the army and my brother to the western front to discourage an Orlesian invasion." She shook her head. "There's work to be done."

Duncen detached himself and burbled. Alistair scooped him up and draped the baby over his shoulder, gently patting his back. He slid out of bed, wishing he had done this will all of his children. "Your mama is such a killjoy, Duncen." The baby spit up his agreement on the cloth Alistair had ready. Father laid his son in the cradle with a kiss.

Alistair hopped back into bed with a grin and a snuggle for the woman he loved, finally mother of one of his children. "Come on darling, let's forget about the troubles of the world and get the few hours sleep he allows us. We'll deal with the problems as the messengers bring them."

"Which they will," she muttered.

He kissed her again and tucked her into the safe blankets and his strong arms. "Don't I know it."

Duncen awoke them at dawn, demanding his next feeding. His dutiful parents obeyed and readied themselves to face the day. They'd had five days of peace, Elinora sleeping through most of them, except when Duncen needed her, which meant she was awakened about every four hours. Alistair rarely left her side, enjoying the opportunity to get some extra rest himself and spend time with his new son.

But they both knew it couldn't last.

Missives came in from Denerim and Fergus's army, which had reached Orzammar. The militia of the southern arls were starting to march for the western front.

It was time to start dealing with the problems of a restless nation.

But Alistair was going to make them work for it.

The Grey Wardens were getting restless.

They had all returned to Highever after Duncen's birth, grim and confused. Their lives had been hijacked by a god who had them act against one of their own. How it was that Alistair allowed them within a mile of her, she didn't know, and he wouldn't say. Petra had kept Elinora unconscious for the journey back, her condition poor for travel, but she and the baby both needed to be somewhere safe. There simply hadn't been time for much argument.

Only one Warden was unaccounted for; Rainer. His armor, crested with the double-headed griffon of command, and the seal of the First Warden had been found neatly stacked on a rock below where Duncen had been born. They waited in Highever's armory, as the Wardens waited for direction.

They had been patient, but wanted orders.

What had surprised Elinora was that they looked to her for those orders. She had resigned her command, temporarily of course, but Barth was Rainer's second on this campagin. But Barth was a good soldier; he had never fancied himself in a command position and didn't want it. When she'd offered it the day before, he'd refused.

"Barth, why haven't you just gone back to Weisshaupt?" Elinora tried not fidget with the bedclothes as she asked the delicate question. Bad enough this meeting was taking place in her bedroom with her still recovering.

The great warrior, the size and strength of a Qunari but the disposition of a teddy bear, looked uncomfortable and turned his gaze out her window. "El, we failed you. Whether by choice or not, doesn't matter." He wandered over to Duncen's cradle and tickled the baby's chin. "We'll follow your orders, even if it's to fall on our swords."

From the comfy chair next to the fire, Alistair quirked an eyebrow. "That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?"

Barth shrugged. "Maybe, but some of these boys have a deep sense of honor, especially to their own. Besides," he turned a chagrined smile on Elinora, "we trust our El to be fair, after she's done screaming at us, anyway."

At lunch, Elinora surfaced in the Great Hall for the first time since Rainer and his Wardens had bundled her out. She had made her decision.

"Gentlemen, I will keep this brief. Things have changed, for Ferelden, for the Grey Wardens and perhaps for all of Thedas. We need to re-group. Rainer did not choose a successor; therefore I need messengers to carry word to the other Warden commanders in Antvia, Nevarra, Tevinter, Orlais and the Anderfels. If you are one of them, you are welcome to stay at that location, pending that commander's approval. Those of you who do not serve as messengers, can choose your posting; Amaranthine, Orzammar or back to Weisshaupt. Ferelden would be grateful for your service, as our presence is still slim. I also require a messenger to Amaranthine. Work out among yourselves who is going where. I would like answers by supper, and messengers ready to depart at dawn. Questions?"

Sten exchanged a look with Barth. "What if we wish to remain here?"

Elinora mouth curved in a small smile. "I suppose some of you can, but there are missions to complete. Not all of you can lollygag around Highever, chasing a boy and a baby. Dismissed."

Elinora returned to her room, Petra and Alistair close behind her. Neither said anything, though Elinora was certain Petra wanted to lecture her on straining herself. Alistair just took her hand with a proud smile.

The king's morning had been filled with messages as well. He'd left orders with Eamon, plans had been laid over the winter, contingencies thought of, but nothing ever went exactly according to plan. In fact, he was surprised how well things were going in general.

It had been ten days since Alistair had turned Ferelden's religious life on its ear, but so far, no one was rioting.

In fact, everything was terribly normal. Chantries all over Ferelden held services like nothing had changed.

And that had him more worried than anything else.

The Divine would speak eventually, and probably not kindly. In the yawning silence, he would have his armies ready. He was practically daring her to proclaim and Exaulted March, but he would not anything more until provoked.

And in the meantime, he would enjoy every moment he could get with Elinora and his boys, especially these moments when he was reminded why he had fallen in love with her in the first place. The woman was born to command. Alistair couldn't wait to add 'Queen' to her rack of titles.

"Your majesty! My lady! Templars!"

Alistair and Elinora froze at the word. "How many?" Elinora demanded of the guard jogging to a halt in front of them.

"About forty, approaching on foot and slow."

"Hold them at the gate, we'll be there shortly." Elinora looked at Alistair, who nodded, and then to Petra.

The mage rolled her eyes. "I'll get Duncen and Cailin to the north tower, as discussed. And a wet-nurse too. Do not stay on your feet any longer than necessary."

A mischievous grin spread on Alistair's face. "I can carry her, if you'd like."

"Don't tempt me," Petra huffed, and then went to gather up the children.

Elinora pinned Alistair with a look. "Don't even try it."

"Wouldn't dream of it, my love. Come on."

Outside the gates of Highever, forty-two Templars stood, waiting. As Elinora and Alistair approached, flanked by most of the Wardens and the Highever guard, one aged Templar stepped forward. His movements were confident, but his expression was uncertain.

"What do you want?" demanded Elinora.

"My lady," he bowed slightly. She recognized him. He was the Templar that called for her surrender that harrowing night. "I am here to find King Alistair. We have no intent of attempting to take you or your child."

"Well, that's good," drawled Alistair, "because you are considerably outnumbered. That being said, what do you want?"

The Templar cleared is throat and squared his shoulders. "I, Templar Knight-Commander Hegarty, hereby surrender myself and my men to your custody." With that he drew his sword and knelt, hilt offered to Alistair and head bowed. Forty-one Templars followed him.

Alistair stared at the men knelling before him. "Huh."

Hegarty slumped in the chair across the desk from Alistair, looking utterly defeated. Petra handed him a cup of tea. Hegarty took it with a suspicious glance, but said, "Thank you. I apologize for not having the healers for you. As I was just telling his majesty, the Tower is completely surrounded by a force field. The innkeeper of the Spoiled Princess informed us that Irving is not letting anyone into or out of the Tower. And we couldn't get close enough to neutralize it, not that we would. At this point…" He shrugged and look unnaturally helpless.

Alistair leaned back in Fergus's chair and studied the Templar. He had never seen a man so broken, so lost. "I'm sorry, Commander Hegarty, for putting you in this position. I'm afraid it will be some time before we sort everything out."

Hegarty stared into his tea cup. "Your majesty, my men are divided. We don't know who we owe our allegiance to; the throne, the Chantry or the only the Maker and Andraste."

Alistair flinched just a little, but quickly smoothed his expression. "I made this choice for Ferelden because she will not take orders from outside her own borders and I will not have her allegiances divided. The Chantry has become far too interested in politics for our comfort, and far too demanding of Ferelden's resources. Our faith has not waivered, but the Chant of Light will be sung in our own voices."

Elinora stared at Alistair from her chair against the wall. The man behind the desk was not the jovial young warrior who had watched her back and slyly talked of licking lampposts. This was a king, one who had greatly gambled with his people's lives, but understood what was at stake. Before him sat a man who's life had been destroyed by a king's choices, and Alistair would make amends, but would not regret his actions.

"Your men should pray for guidance," Elinora murmured.

Alistair looked at her. "My dear, you give me an idea." He looked back to Hegarty. "If any of your Templars so choose, they may go to Orlais and serve the Divine. In fact, there will be a party of Wardens heading there in the morning, if you care to join them."

"And if my men don't want to leave their homeland, your majesty?"

"Ferelden's Chantries still need your services. The army has marched west to secure the border, but villages could still use the protection experienced Templars can provide."

Hegarty studied the king closely. "What about the mages?"

Alistair looked to Petra, who shrugged. "I will begin discussions with the First Enchanter as soon as possible. In the meantime, if Lady Cousland approves, the Templars may use the army's training camps to the southwest, as they are empty at the moment."

Elinora had a moment of wondering what her mother had to do about this until she realized that Alistair was talking about her. "Seems sensible."

Hegarty looked between the two of them. "So, we're not to be hung for treason?"

"No," Alistair smiled, "at least not until you do something treasonous. If that's all, you may go and get your men settled."

Hegarty stood, still looking a bit shocked. He bowed to Alistair, and then turned to leave, giving Elinora a slight bow on his way out.

Once the door was shut behind him, Petra let out a breath. "Well, if we aren't murdered in our beds by overzealous Templars, then I would say you are making progress, your majesty."

At dawn, Elinora and Alistair made their way down to the courtyard, baby Duncen bundled in a sling at Elinora's breast, Cailin trailing behind them. Four Wardens each were headed to Antvia, Nevarra, and Tevinter. Twenty were returning to Weisshaupt, though some were planning to transfer to other outposts throughout Thedas. She handed off the sealed missives to each party.

Ferelden was keeping some of the men Rainer had brought for the Anderfels. Sten and Barth were both staying at Elinora's side at Highever, unofficially becoming her and Duncen's bodyguards. Orzammar was getting six more elder Wardens, those who were starting to hear the whisper of the Calling. The rest were going to Amaranthine.

A half-dozen Templars and two Orlseian Wardens were set for Val Royeaux, but were going by sea from Jader to Cumberland and then on to Orlais. It was risky to go directly from a Ferelden port, but a slight detour should get them there without questions. Templars and Wardens carried messages from both Elinora and Alistair. Elinora's was the same as for the other Warden Commanders, but Alistair's messages had kept him up half the night.

Chantry raised, Templar trained, and now blasphemer; destroyer of all that was sacred in Ferelden. Alistair knew that he had made the right choices, for him and for Ferelden, but it still weighted heavily on him. First there was the interrupted wedding, which was personal, but it had been followed by more strident demands from Grand Cleric Aida. Demands for tithes to be sent to the Great Cathedral had grown throughout Ferelden; he'd gotten several earfuls from various arls and banns as they had gone on progress. Upon Alistair's return to Denerim, Aida had regularly appeared for audiences. She wanted a tighter rein on the mages, and gone so far as to demand that command of the Grey Wardens be transferred to the Chantry.

Alistair had sent pleas to the Divine to bring her cleric to heel, but he had not received any response. In the end, he had to do something. The last straw had not been Aida's order to arrest Elinora, but the stoning of a woman in West Hill, accused of witchcraft on the mere word of one jilted lover. That was when Leliana became his Chantry spy and he had started making plans. Elinora's attempted arrest was the catalyst Alistair had needed to act.

The king made good use of the scattering Templars as well. They took messages to the Chantry leadership throughout Ferelden. He wanted a council of revered mothers, or their chosen representatives, to create Chantry law for Ferelden, one that severed ties with the Divine. Any priests who were dissatisfied with the new order were free to go to Orlais, or anywhere else in Thedas, but sedition against the Ferelden Chantry or crown would be considered treason.

It pained Alistair to be so harsh, but he didn't have a choice.

Every once in a while, when Alistair was trying to work out how to put the Chantry to rights, he heard Anora's last words in his mind: "Beware the Empress, she has plans." He deeply hoped those plans were now destroyed.

As he and Elinora bid farewell to the departing Grey Wardens and Templars, Alistair sent a small prayer that the Maker would turn a favorable eye to his efforts, and that no one would get hurt.