A/N – Oh hai… no I haven't forgotten about you, dear readers. I got a little stuck, and then I wandered off to Rapture and I'm finally playing Awakening (which will probably not have any bearing on this fic whatsoever… probably).

So, the short version: I got distracted by shiny objects.

This should shock no one.

BTW – if you haven't played the Bioshock games, do it. I'm usually not one for FPSs or survival horror myself, but both Bioshock 1 and 2 are stunning in art direction, philosophy and game play.

Enough advertising.

Anyway, I'm back. Let's just hope my brain agrees.

Oh, and in my hunt for inspiration, I've joined the swooping is bad community on LiveJournal under willowstead42. It made sense at the time.

Duty's Choice: The Bastards of Ferelden - Chapter 43

Meet the New Boss

That Evening

"I can't believe you went and got married without me!" Leliana was pouting through a cheeky grin, forgiving but not forgetting. It was the second time Elinora had seen her old companion since returning to Denerim, and the first had involved a lot of groveling. Impromptu or not, Leliana was not happy about missing the wedding or Duncen's birth.

Granted, Elinora wasn't the only one leaving people out of monumental events. "I can't believe you went and joined the Chantry, vows and all, without telling anyone!" Elinora replied with equal teasing exasperation.

Leliana shrugged. A deep-rooted guilt and an aching sense of loss had brought her before Revered Mother Gylda months ago. As Leliana blurted out every sin she'd committed, including her spying on Aida for Alistair, Gylda listened empathically. When the words ran out, the priest put a hand to the bard's head and forgave her, simple as that. The weight came off Leliana's soul. They shared tea and by the end of it, Leliana had decided to return to the Chantry.

Within a few weeks, she took her vows under Gylda's watchful eye. Leliana knew the games of power too well not realize what Gylda was up to, the revered mother saw her as the means to the king's ear. And Leliana had no problems playing that role. How could one resist the front row seat to history, or to put one's hand into the shaping of Chantry policy in Ferelden?

But tonight was not Leliana's celebration or assignment; it was a chance to see old friends, even if they didn't invite certain people to their sudden weddings. "Holy orders are meant to be private, weddings for are for loved ones to gather and shower the newlyweds with affection and judgment."

Elinora snorted. "But my mother's gone and everyone else seems to approve."

Leliana screwed up her face with disbelief. "Your mother would find fault with you marrying a king and your true love?"

"She might be pleased with that, the king part especially, but not this Warden business."

"Right," Leliana commented slyly. Her gaze swept the assembled, taking in the commanders, Wardens and assorted Ferelden nobility in town for the coming Landsmeet. "First Warden. I didn't see that coming. So what's next?"

Elinora's expression became embarrassed and a little guilty. "Queen?"

Leliana stared at her for a moment before dissolving into a fit of giggles. "Of course… Alistair… king… right." She got herself under control after a few moments with a shake of her head. "No matter how many titles they pile on, you two will always be the shy couple who slunk out of camp for some time alone and generally came back covered in mud or leaves."

Elinora groaned and hid her face in her hands. "And we thought we were being so subtle."

"And that still doesn't beat that 'rest break' in the ruined temple full of spiders and werewolves! Of all the inappropriate places…"

"You sound like Wynne!"

With a snort, Leliana said, "Hardly, she was overjoyed when you two finally got on with it. I suppose Alistair really does know where babies come from, at least now."

Elinora giggled and looked around the Great Hall for her husband, only to find him proudly showing off his newest son to Bann Alfstanna and two younger men. Alistair was quite the proud father. At some point soon they would have to have a conversation about not favoring one child over another, which was going to be difficult for both of them.

All the royal children were out among the guests. Eamon was seated on a bench with Isolde, one of the twins on her lap, Teagan standing next to them holding the other, clearly showing off their great-nieces to an assortment of Wardens and nobles. The girls were only two years old, but they were lovely and well-behaved, prefect princesses. Cailin and Maricen were at the back of the Hall with a group of Wardens. Bresal watched Cailin closely as Izidor showed the boy a new fencing technique, one common in Nevarra. There was a glint of approval in the haggard soldier's gaze. Cailin was going to be quite the warrior when he grew up, and Maricen was ever his brother's shadow.

Elinora smiled. "Yes, our motley royal family.

"And more picturesque they could not be," said an Antivan voice behind her. Elinora rose, expecting Commander Rabio, but was greeted with an affectionate hug and kiss by Zevran. "I hear the Wardens continue to paint the target on your back ever larger."

"Interesting way of looking at it," Elinora muttered. She wished it could be passed off as teasing, but the assassin wasn't wrong. "I'm surprised you're in town."

"Only a fool continues down a cold trail. They will show themselves eventually, the bait is too good." His sly knowing smile did not reassure her. She did not like being bait.

"Just so," countered another Antivan voice as a knife appeared at Zevran's throat. "First Warden, there is a Crow in your nest."

"I know," Elinora snapped. "How do you think we met? Let him go, Commander. Now."

Rabio's glance shot the daggers he was not able to physically use on Zevran. He released the elf with a slight shove and sheathed his weapon. "A pet Crow then. How useful."

Zevran bristled for heartbeat, then covered it with a careless grin as a light of recognition flared in his eyes. "Not enough freelance work, eh Rabio? Do the Wardens keep you in brandy?"

Rabio lazily leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving Zevran. "No, they keep me in purpose. I have not needed brandy since."

Zevran looked to Elinora. "As I suspected; a good man, thus a poor assassin."

"Stupid question, I know," Leliana piped up, "but you two know each other, yes?"

Zevran shrugged. "Only a little, mostly by reputation. During my training, Rabio here was a prime example of why one should not work for themselves."

"I was a prime example of a derelict drunk, wasting his skills and talent," Rabio admitted. "And then I got into a bar fight with a Grey Warden and the rest, as they say, is history. But my misspent youth is not why I came over, nor is your questionable company. First Warden, Zelig would like to speak with you."

Elinora excused herself from her old comrades and took the arm Rabio offered. Zelig sat in a corner, watching the festivities with his usual academic eye. He peppered her with questions about Duncen, most of which she could answer, but some where beyond her ken. Finally, Zelig threw up his hands in exasperation. "First Warden, I need to examine the boy before I depart. I must insist!"

Now was not the time for a healer's appointment. "Perhaps tomorrow, Warden Zelig …"

"So," Izidor appeared at her elbow with a charming smile, rescuing her from the earnest mage, "what radical changes will our new First Warden bring about, eh?"

Bresal and Rabio flanked Izidor, waiting for her answer. Elinora studied the collected Commanders of the Grey, suspecting there was more to the question. If she read them correctly, then they really were expecting change and were, quite literally, asking for it. "Since you asked, I am moving headquarters from the middle of nowhere in Weisshaupt, to Amaranthine."

Commanders of the Grey, experienced in the traditions and guidelines of the Grey Wardens, stared at her, faces masks of neutrality. Then Bresal extended a hand to Izidor, palm up. Izidor sighed and dug a gold sovereign from his pouch and dropped it into the offered hand.

"Am I so predictable?" she demanded.

Bresal gave her a stony look. "A woman would not leave her newborn or new husband." At her glare, the one reserved for impudent children, he shifted, coughing uncomfortably. "And it is a good idea. Weisshaupt is isolated and so entrenched in 'that's the way its always been done' that they missed the Blight. Idiots."

"I see," Elinora said coldly. "Along that same line, I would prefer to have less Grey Warden tucked up in fortresses and more Grey Wardens out and about, looking for Darkspawn, not waiting for them to show up."

This time Rabio put out his hand and Bresal passed his newly won sovereign on to the Antivan with a grunt. Izidor also handed Rabio a coin.

"Radical indeed," Izidor muttered. "And how will you keep your scattered soldiers from getting too embroiled in local politics?"

She snorted. "That is likely unavoidable, but a few history lessons and a regular rotation should do the trick. Between kingdoms if necessary."

"Join the Grey Wardens; see the world!" Rabio grinned. The chance to get out of the stinking hell pit he'd spent years wallowing in had been his main motivation for becoming a Warden. A little tainted blood and a shortened lifespan seemed a small price to pay, then and now.

"Just so," she said with a smile. "Our fortresses will become training bases and archives. Speaking of which, I want some scholars…"

A baby's wail from across the Hall snatched her attention away from the Commanders and outlining her plans. She excused herself to collect her infant son from his father. Alistair utter perplexed as to why Duncen was screaming like a shriek on fire. But she knew, and a sniff confirmed it. "Its bedtime for the lot of them anyway. I'll take them up."

With only a small display of whining, Elinora was able to persuade the boys to bid farewell to their guests (and very nobly too) and head upstairs, Isolde and a nursemaid behind her with the Aurora and Wynn. Yet more nursemaids set about the business of getting the elder royal children ready for bed, as Elinora herself took care of Duncen, diaper and all.

Isolde found her in the midst of settling in with Duncen at her breast. "When I first saw you, all those years ago, all blood and blades, I never would have imagined…" She trailed off, waving a graceful hand at the tableau of domesticity. "It is strange."

"Strange?" Elinora quirked an eyebrow.

But she would get no explanation. "Excuse me, First Warden," Zelig stepped into the room, giving it a cursory examination. His focused settled on Duncen and his mother, completely ignoring Isolde. "Would now be convenient?"

Elinora shot Isolde a glance. "Lady Isolde, if you would excuse us?"

Isolde looked between the very old man and Elinora, one breast bared to feed her child, nodded once then departed. Elinora fought to keep her eyes from rolling.

Once the door shut on Isolde's heels, Zelig stepped closer. "If the First Warden will permit me?" He raised a hand. With a bright flare, a glow settled around it. Starting at Duncen's wiggling toes, he slowly passed his hand over the child, letting it hover for a few moments longer over Duncen's head and Elinora's breast.

Heat rose in her cheeks, but she tried to push it down. Duncen's attention left his meal and found Zelig's glowing hand. His tiny fingers reached up to grasp one of Zelig's gnarled and effulgent ones.

"Interesting," the mage muttered and then proceeded to making cooing noises he wiggled the finger Duncen held.

No magic as strong as a baby's cuteness, Elinora chuckled to herself.

Zelig caught himself and straightened up, clearing his throat. "You should desist breastfeeding as soon as possible. Your milk is almost as tainted as your blood."

Color drained from her face as she juggled the baby and closed up her breastplate, denying him access to her poisoned milk. "What have I done?"

The mage apologetically stepped back. "Oh, the boy is fine. Just as I would expect a child born a Grey Warden to be. Not that I have a comparison."

"Jurgen's journals?" Elinora suggested. Everyone seemed to know about them at this point.

Zelig confirmed it with curt nod. "I've read them, while we were at Wiesshaupt. No, I simply think it would be wise not to continue giving the boy a steady influx of the taint. Other than that, I have no other advice. As far as I can discern, his mind and body are sound."

"At the moment."

"Yes, please watch him closely, and keep a record."

With a hushed, dark laugh, Elinora nodded. After all the consternation with Henrrick's lost records, she was making an effort to write down everything. Currently, there was nothing unusual to report, though Petra claimed Duncen was far too… she'd had a hard time finding the right word, and finally settled on calculating. Duncen only cried when he needed something, and those cries were specific. Hungry was high-pitched and nasal compared to wet, which was lower and more uncomfortable than demanding. His tired cry was a stream of fussy babbles.

Of course, maybe it was more than timbre and timing.

As her child sorted out new emotions and experiences, Elinora could sense him. Curiosity, wonder and frustration accompanied his physical needs. More and more, she was certain the connection went both ways. He reacted to her emotions, an infant mirror to her complicated adult world.

It was going to be an interesting childhood.