Thank you SO MUCH to the mutive and witchy bee, for betas and excessive hand holding. Also to my friend Justin, for explaining how to be manly.

-o-

"I thought you were joking," Alistair said, as he found her on the sofa in the sitting room of their suite, near an open window. "You really do like needlecraft?"

Anora jumped at the sound of his voice. Her hand slipped and the needle ran into her finger.

"Yes, but I lied about liking red," she replied, as it drew a spot of blood. It hurt much more than it really should have, she thought, wincing, and she scowled at Alistair as though the sharpness of needles were his fault. Anora touched the pinprick to her mouth. "Why are you here?" she asked. The words came out a little garbled.

Alistair laughed. "Why are any of us here? Why is the sky blue?" He crossed over to the sofa and sat down beside her, his knees tucked together, his hands carefully in his lap. "I just wanted to see you." Noticing her finger in her mouth, he added, "Um... sorry about your hand."

"It's nothing." Anora's brow furrowed as she tried to wrap a scrap of cloth around her finger and fumbled with it. Alistair took her hand and held the fabric for her, waiting for the blood to clot. She glanced at him. "You don't need to do that."

"No," he agreed, grinning, "but it makes me look so sensitive."

Anora looked down at her hand, her fingers small inside his. As the moment stretched out, Alistair released her. She pulled away the makeshift bandage and set it down on the floor, then picked up her embroidery again.

His eyes followed her hands as the needle dove under the linen, pulling the length of blue cord behind it. It left a tight knot behind, and she pulled it back through behind it, forming a line. She pulled it through the other side, forming a cross, and then again to form a star.

"What are you making?" As he leaned forward, he rested his hand experimentally on her shoulder, and when she didn't pull away, his fingers began to move in slow circles across her back.

"Oh, I don't really know." Anora laughed a little. "Sometimes I just need to do something to turn my mind off. It might be a pillow." She took a deep breath and flexed her neck, stretching. The fine detail work made her back stiff.

She felt his hands close around her shoulders. Anora exhaled. He pulled at her tendons, lengthening them, working out the tension in her muscles. His fingers dug into her flesh, strong and assured, and her eyelids fluttered shut. She felt her skin warming. His hands drifted down her back, and he rested his chin on her shoulder.

Anora looked up at the door. "This is the closest you've come to our bedroom in quite some time," she said, turning her head so that her cheek almost touched his. "Were you planning to stay?"

Shifting, his fingertips pressed into her back for a moment before he flattened his hands again. "Did you want me to?" he asked.

Anora swallowed. "Well, we still have to produce an heir." She sighed, looking down at the spot of blood on the cloth at her feet. "In case you were wondering, it didn't take the first time."

"Oh. That." Alistair sat back against the cushions, blowing out a breath. His arms flopped down at his sides.

"Yes, that," Anora said. She stared at her needle. "It is important."

"I know it's important." Alistair looked pained. "It's not that I don't want to, either," he said. "You're absolutely stunning, Anora, and I have a pulse and everything. It's just that last time you..." His voice trailed off, and Anora turned to look at him.

"Tell me that you want me to stay," he said, "and I'm yours."

"I already told you—"

"That's not what I meant." Alistair searched her eyes. He noticed a hair hanging loose, and he pushed it gently away from her face. "Tell me that you want me."

Anora flushed. She looked down and fixedly studied her needlework. "You ask too much, Alistair," she said.

"You expect too little." Alistair watched her, and Anora avoided his eyes. She found her place in the pattern again, finishing the head of one flower with a center knot and moving on to another. "I don't understand why you're in such a hurry," he said. "We still have twenty-eight years."

Her hands stopped moving. "That's a very specific number," she said, frowning. "Although it seems rather high, for me." Anora tried to figure out his math and couldn't manage it. "How did you arrive at it, exactly?"

"Oh." Alistair took a deep breath. "Didn't I tell you? No, I guess I didn't." He lifted his knee slightly to angle himself towards her. "Wardens only live for thirty years, give or take," he said. "It's the tainted blood. If I don't manage to kill myself first, I'll sort of turn into a darkspawn." Alistair grimaced. "Sorry I didn't tell you before. Are you mad?"

Anora realized her mouth was hanging open, and she closed it quickly. "No, I'm not angry, Alistair," she said slowly. "I'm just..." She thought about the tainted monsters she had seen and shivered. "That sounds absolutely awful. Are you scared?"

"Not especially," he said, shrugging. "Everybody dies. At least I get to die with purpose." He smiled. "You know me and oaths unto death. I'm really into them."

Anora looked at him sideways and smiled slightly. "Yes, I suppose I'd noticed." Alistair did not seem bothered by this, so she tried not to worry. He was waiting for her to say something, she thought, so she shook her head.

"Sleep wherever you like," she said, as she tied off her cord and threaded another color. Her needle pierced the fabric. "But please make sure someone wakes you up tomorrow morning. We have that meeting with the hahren."

Alistair sighed. "Whatever you say," he replied, spreading his hands.

-o-

Anora thought the package she had put together was more than generous, but neither Valendrian nor his pretty young protégé seemed to agree. Shianni was just as abrasive as her sources had indicated. She narrowed her eyes whenever Anora talked, and there was a catch in her voice when she spoke to them.

"That's not enough," Shianni insisted. She tossed her head, and her brilliant red hair shone in the light. "You're going to have to do a lot more than that to make things right with us, after everything that's happened."

Anora sighed. Shianni clearly resented her, for reasons that appeared to have more to do with her station and species than her gender. The woman seemed to accept Alistair, though, so Anora deferred to him for the moment. She wondered what had happened to this elf to make her so angry; there were shadows in her eyes.

"You're right," Alistair said, musing. He sat back. "You deserve better. What if I included your elder in my personal court?"

Anora blinked. She turned to Alistair, her mouth half open. "That wasn't what we—"

"I don't fancy myself a politician, your Majesty," Valendrian said, somewhat amused.

Alistair smiled at Shianni. "Well, I'd just as soon have her, anyway."

The flame-haired elf lifted her chin. Anora looked from Shianni to Alistair, feeling betrayed. Eamon was bad enough, but Anora felt she could hardly compete with the damaged little elf girl. As she looked back at Shianni, Anora desperately hoped that she would refuse.

"I... I would be honored," Shianni said. Her teeth gleamed as she bowed her head. "Your Majesty."

"Welcome to the club then," he said, with a winning smile.

Anora gaped as the elven woman stood to receive his blessing, and Alistair bent to kiss her cheek. Shianni smiled and whispered something to him, outside of her hearing, and he laughed. Then Shianni held out her hand to Anora, and she shook it numbly. The elf's fingers were slender and her grip light. As she left, Shianni left the smell of rose petals behind her, and Anora drew a sharp breath.

Alistair smiled as he turned to her. "I think that went very well, don't you?"

Her hands closed into fists, and Anora shook her head. "I can't believe you just put that girl on your council," she said tightly.

"You asked me to help," he said, shrugging. Alistair started to leave the throne room, as if the discussion were over. When Anora followed him, he glanced over his shoulder. "The elves were about to riot, Anora," he said. "We had to give them something."

"We were giving them all sorts of things," she returned, pushing her nails into her palms. "We had a plan, Alistair. A plan which we discussed at length, remember? It did not include making that knife-ears your new best friend. Do you have any idea—"

Alistair turned. "What did you just say?"

Swallowing, Anora took a step back. "I was about to say," she said, "do you have any idea how the nobles will react?" She shifted on her feet. "It won't solve anything."

"That's not what you said." Alistair shook his head. "I can't believe you would use that term, Anora." He sighed. "Maker, Nya used to—"

"And there it is!" Anora crossed her arms and looked away. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to say her name. It's been a whole three hours." She pursed her lips. "Of course you would do whatever Shianni asked. Following her orders must feel so familiar."

"Maker's blood, Anora, sometimes I have no idea what you're talking about." Alistair raked his hand through his hair. "The elves should have an equal voice, Anora," he said. "I can't believe you don't agree with me."

"These are childish dreams," Anora scoffed. She lowered her eyes. "You make all these grand claims, Alistair," she said, biting her lip, "but all Shianni had to do was flip her hair, and you gave everything away."

For a moment, it was so quiet a needle dropping would have deafened them. Then, inexplicably, Alistair began to laugh. Anora glared him, and he stopped laughing, but he kept on grinning like an idiot. "Anora, are you..." His smile broadened. "Are you jealous?"

Anora huffed. "No, of course I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous?" Her toe began to tap of its own accord. "I'm very angry because you've just done something very foolish," she said. "My response is completely rational."

He took a step towards her, so that she could feel his warmth against her arms. He lifted her chin on his hand, finding her eyes. She looked up at him. "You're so jealous," Alistair said, and he leaned in to kiss her.

Anora met him halfway. He dropped his hands to her waist, pulling her towards him, and she melted into him for a moment before pulling away. When she met his eyes again, his expression was soft and hard all at once.

"I'm giving the elves a place in my court," he said.

"That's fine," she agreed, with a quick nod. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's an excellent idea, in fact. I don't know what came over me."

Alistair brushed his knuckles against her cheek and scanned her eyes. "Shianni runs too hot for me, you know," he said, with a small smile. "I only chase women who are emotionally unavailable."

Anora took a shallow breath. "Alistair, I..."

"Yeees?" His eyes were much too hopeful.

"Nothing." She broke his gaze. "There was nothing else I wanted to say."

-o-