A/N: First off, thank you once again to everyone who takes the times to read my musings and review, you are wonderful, and a special shout out to KatDancer2 for continuing to be my unofficial beta, thanks for keeping me as grammatically correct as possible!

Sorry this took so long…I had fourth of July parties to attend and I found out an old friend of mine passed away two days ago, so I wasn't really in the mood to write.

This one's for you Zonker, even though it probably isn't your cup of tea, it's all I got. I'll miss your laugh, hon.

Alistair slowly swam to the surface of awareness the next morning, his eyes blinking sleepily against the soft light drifting through an open window. He felt as if he had not slept at all; the invisible pressure of Elissa's presence had haunted him through the night, seeping into his subconscious and affecting his dreams when he had managed a few fitful hours in the fade. Even now he hesitated to move, ever mindful of her slender figure resting not six inches from his own. When he heard the soft sounds of someone moving about the room he hesitantly rolled to his back, head turning to find the other half of the bed empty. He sat up in confusion and blearily blinked about the room.

"Good Morning," a soft voice murmured and Alistair turned to find Elissa standing by the window. She was blessedly clothed in becoming gown of delicate grey, the familiar mask of stoic indifference firmly in place.

"Good Morning," he croaked, voice hoarse from lack of use.

"I wanted to thank you…for last night. You didn't…it was a courtesy," she said stiffly, eyes never rising to meet his.

"Yes, well…I have a manly reputation to consider," Alistair joked lamely, his attempt at humor failing.

"We will have to, eventually," Elissa said quietly, "I am duty bound to produce an heir. Otherwise I suspect Eamon will convince you to seek a divorce, citing me barren as the cause."

"Why would Eamon give a nug's ass whether or not you're barren?" Alistair inquired as he slid out of bed, blushing slightly when he remembered his attire.

"While I do not pretend to guess at his motives, it is a behavior that is quite commonplace with him. He sought to do the same for your brother and Anora," Elissa said quietly.

"He what?" Alistair asked, coming to a frozen standstill, voice empty of anything but shock and disbelief.

"You didn't know?" Elissa said skeptically, "It was quite the juicy bit of gossip in court prior to Cailan's death."

"Yes, well, I was a bit busy fighting for my life against the darkspawn horde to be present for such illuminating news," Alistair said with a shake of his head as he quickly crossed to his armoire to fetch some clothes.

"You understand then the stakes which are in play, Alistair," Elissa continued in her detached and cool voice, "I have a finite time to get with child before those who council you decide I have out lived my usefulness."

"Well when you put it like that, how can I help but throw you on the bed and take you with all the passion in me?" Alistair scoffed, clearly put out at her clinical recitation of the subject.

"I'm not asking for passion," Elissa said softly, eyes downcast. Alistair lifted an eyebrow at her tone, sure he heard just the faintest hint of hurt in her voice. "I know I am not what you desire. Having heard tales of Harlow I am quite certain she and I could not look more different, and I know that you find my personality lacking. So while I am quite certain the experience would be nothing more than an unpleasant duty, we nonetheless must fulfill it."

"Elissa," Alistair said on a sigh, dropping the clothes in his hand to lie forgotten on the ground. "Look, yes, you and Harlow could not be more different from each other, and yes, there are times I wish I could slap a hand over your mouth just to give myself a bit of peace, but do give me some credit."

"Credit?" Elissa asked, baffled.

"I may not be the most observant man in the world, but I'm not blind," he said patiently, turning to gather his garments and hastily dress himself. Once properly attired he turned to regard her once more, finding her looking at him with a quizzical expression. "You are a beautiful woman, Elissa, but I don't particularly relish engaging in physicalities as a means to an end. Even with Melly-" He stopped himself, the woman's name coming hard to his lips. "I just prefer for there to be something behind the act other than duty. Besides, I'm sure I'm not a young maiden's dream come true, at least not yours, considering how frequently you yell at me."

"I…I…that is to say…" Elissa stammered, suddenly overtaken with nerves.

"Holy Maker, it's a miracle!" Alistair called out with a grin, "The Lady Cousland at a loss for words! This is a day that shall live in infamy and truly it will be the hallmark of my reign."

"I am not at a loss for words," she snapped, fighting the grin that threatened to curl at the edges of her lips, "I am merely…taking the time to choose my words. It is a social courtesy."

"Such pretty lies to fall from your lips," Alistair continued jovially, "Do not feel bad, you are not the first woman to fall prey to my loquacious talent."

"Loquacious talent? My but what a big word for such a common man," Elissa snarked back, losing the battle to keep her smile from her face, "I am surprised you know the meaning."

"You will find I know quite a few surprising things, my dear wife, all of them more glorious and charming than the last."

Silence filled the space between them, and their matching grins faded as they realized what had just transpired. Alistair cleared his throat with a quiet cough and let slip a nervous chuckle as he glanced quickly away from his wife.

"None of that now," he said lightly, "we're supposed to hate each other, remember?"

"I do not hate you, Alistair…detest, despair, tolerate…but never hate," Elissa said stoically, "and I'm sure given time I will once again find myself in a shouting match with you, never fear."

"Good, that's well…good," Alistair finished lamely before quickly striding to the door, intent on making a hasty exit. "I shall leave you to your tasks, Good day Elissa."

"Wait!" She called out and Alistair froze, turning hesitantly to regard her over his shoulder. "I wanted to inquire if you would like to tour the Alienage with me. I wish to know more of this Mortain and exactly what trouble he plans to heap upon our doorstep."

"I thought you wanted me out of elven politics," Alistair said softly, the first hint of anger seeping into his voice.

"You let the past cloud your vision when it comes to the elves," Elissa said proudly, "and I still do not think you are best equipped to deal with this threat but…I was wrong to so blatantly wrest your authority from you. I still intend to oversee the matter, but it would not be amiss for you to…be kept abreast of what it happening."

"Two miracles in one day?" Alistair said mockingly, his eyebrow quirked in surprise, "At a loss for words and an apology not two minutes later? Pinch me, I must be dreaming."

"Keep it up and you'll be praying for a pinch," Elissa seethed, gathering her skirts into tight fists as she angrily strode by her husband to make her exit, "it will be the least harm I will do to you. Infuriating man."

"Ah, there's the wife I have come to know and cherish," Alistair said with a roll of his eyes before following her out the room, "So good to have her back."

~oOo~

Mortain watched from his perch in a branch high in the trees as the King and Queen of Ferelden strolled through the streets of the Alienage, chatting in patronizingly polite tones to the elves that crossed their paths. Shianni, the traitor, was right by their side, pointing out a particular sight or child who merited attention. As Alistair chuckled softly at something the red haired elf had said, Mortain felt his fingers tense against the branch he held, knuckles gone with strain.

"Look at her," he muttered to himself, "selling herself out to the shems; so very pleased to be a member of the court…she's positively beaming with her new found status. How nice it must be for her to be above her kin, pampered and adored. I'd love an opportunity to put her in her place…show her the penalty for forgetting from whence she came."

He took satisfaction in thinking how lovely it would feel to wrap his slender fingers around Shianni's neck, feel the bones squeak in protest as he pressed ever tighter. Mortain was pulled from his reverie when he saw Sabine hurry out from a dark alley, eyes down cast and not heeding her surroundings. When she collided with the king she let out a frightened gasp and swayed on her feet, balance faltering. Mortain felt a white hot rage overtake him as he watched the man grab her arm, righting her gently with a charming smile. Growling low he swung down from the tree and landed with a soft thud upon the dusty ground, silver eyes gone feral.

"Sabine!" he snapped, the word a command that would brook no refusal. His wife turned at the sound, face flinching, and hastily stepped away. Alistair, the Queen, and Shianni all turned their attention to him, expressions ranging from anger to irritation to cool indifference as they took in his presence. "You should be home," he said coldly to his wife. The elven woman nodded quickly and scrambled away, posture hunched and bent like a beaten dog. He felt a moment of regret sift through him, knowing he was the cause for her fear. But the memory of the king's hands upon her, the way the hands of hundreds others had been, steeled him to her emotions. His anger was justified, his punishment just; he believed this in the center of his being and he would not apologize for setting his wife on the proper path. She was his to do with as he pleased, and no one would tell him otherwise.

"Lord Mortain," the Queen murmured politely, "how fortunate you have come upon us. I very much wished to continue the discussion we began yesterday. Will you join us as we take the air?"

"What more is there to discuss?" he sneered, "you had me hauled away by your guardsmen, escorted back to my home like a criminal. I think that pretty effectively ended whatever discourse we he had."

"I do not believe that was what transpired," Elissa replied coolly, "I believe I set a guard on you to ensure no harm came to you upon your return to the Alienage, and along the way he was to take a full accounting of your tale so that His Majesty and myself had a better understanding of how to help you."

"Dress it up how you will, I call it humiliating all the same," Mortain growled, feet shifting as he clenched his fists, "and perhaps I would not need an escort were my people allowed to arm themselves."

"How fortunate you should bring that up," Elissa said with a wicked smile, as she turned to face the king, a hand coming to rest lightly on his forearm, "my dear husband was just telling me of his intent to take the necessary steps to ensure such a thing."

"Yes," Alistair said after a brief pause, shaking himself and clearing his throat, "it is something I have been thinking on for quite some time."

"How many did you say, my dear? Fifteen?" Elissa inquired and Mortain watched as the King frowned down at her, clearly not taking her meaning.

"Ten I believe was what I said," Alistair said after a moment's consideration, his voice hesitant and guessing.

"Ah yes, ten. His Majesty has decided to appoint a contingent of ten guards to patrol the Alienage. Such a squadron would be made up entirely of elves, handpicked for their bravery and skill by the Bann to Alienage," Elissa said gracefully, turning once more to focus on Mortain.

"A lie sweetened with hope is still a lie," he countered, voice filled with hate. "You claim to grant the elves a means to defend themselves but offer only more oppression, this time at the hands of our own."

"Surely you do not expect a transformation over night?" Elissa countered, her voice gone patronizing and harsh, "Change happens in slow degrees, and his Majesty would see the elves prosper in the proper way."

"I have nothing but faith in the elven people," Alistair said harshly, "it would be a shame to see such a faith misplaced. Should the guard show restraint and professionalism we shall speak further of loosening the restraints on the citizens."

"How very gratifying to know we bear your faith, your Majesty," Mortain murmured, "Truly, I am humbled by your admission."

"And I find I am pissed off at your attitude," Shianni interjected, stepping between the King and the sullen elf, "Alistair has given us something amazing and all you can do is shit all over it like an untrained dog. Think! If we have our own contingent of guards they will have the power of the crown behind them. We can stop the shem from looting our stores, raping our women, and not fear retribution because those halting the crimes are our own people with the full force of the law behind them!"

"That is the last time you get to call me a dog, Shianni," Mortain threatened, his voice low.

"I call you what you are Mortain," the elven woman replied, eyes narrowed, "though I suppose dog is too kind. Anyone who threatens the crown and beats his wife into submission is nothing less than a monster."

Mortain struck out without thinking and cracked Shianni across the jaw with a fierce back handed blow, his soul fair purring with pleasure at the sound. Immediately he heard the sound of chainmail creaking as the guards accompanying the monarchs surged forward.

"Hold!" he heard the queen call out, eyes a blaze with fury as she turned Shianni's head to inspect the damage. "Shianni…are you well?"

"As if this piece of nug shit could ever hurt me," Shianni replied with a fierce sort of grin. "I'm far stronger than anyone gives me credit for."

"What do you wish to do with him?" Elissa asked softly, her eyes seeking the elf's. Mortain watched in shrewd fascination as the two women engaged in a silent conversation; words expressed with coded glances and minute facial tics. Eventually Shianni sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Let him go," the elven woman said eventually, "he's not worth my retribution." Elissa nodded, letting out a relieved sigh, and Mortain's ears pricked in interest at the sound. How interesting he thought maliciously, Our fair queen does not wish me locked behind bars; it does not suit whatever game she is playing. I can only hope she is prepared to lose.

His reverie was interrupted as the King stepped before him, his bulky and solid frame a shield between himself and the women.

"If you ever raise a hand to that woman again, trust me when I say you will not live to see it bruise," the monarch rumbled low and menacingly.

"How very regal of you, threatening the elves; you fit right into the role of king, Alistair," Mortain baited, an evil grin spread across his face.

"You do not get to call me by name, you piece of filth, you will address me by title," Alistair ground out, temper fraying.

"Ah…so it's just your elven whores who earn that right then?"

Within in seconds Mortain found himself flat on his back blinking up at the bright blue sky, his jaw throbbing in pain. Rolling over with a groan he caught a glimpse of the King and Queen angrily exiting the Alienage, Shianni hot on their heels. Chuckling gently he pushed himself to his feet and watched their departure with smug satisfaction.

"That could have gone better," a voice murmured from nearby and Mortain turned to find his friend Simon step out from behind the great tree.

"On the contrary," Mortain said gleefully, "I believe that will serve our purposes quite nicely."

"And the guards?" Simon countered, "It will endear quite a few to King Alistair for granting us such a thing."

"Do not mistake it, Simon," Mortain said with a grimace as his jaw throbbed uncomfortably, "she may have given him the credit, but that was the Queen's brainchild. She's a tricky one…a daughter of politics and pretense, she will be difficult to topple."

"There are other ways of dealing with her," Simon offered lightly, tone never betraying the darker meaning of his words.

"If it comes to that," Mortain replied dismissively. "Come, we must gather to plan the next step."

"You hit Shianni," Simon stated as the pair turned to walk away, "how did that feel?"

"Better than sex, my friend," the elf replied darkly.