Eriana ran her fingers through her shoulder length, now evened out, hair. Leliana had done a good job with it, feathering it so that it fell in full layers, but keeping it so that it could be pulled up easily to keep it out of the way in a fight. The look suited her, Eriana decided. It could be sophisticated enough that she wouldn't feel terribly out of place at the landsmeets or other times when she was required to conduct noble business, yet is was practical and hassle free when she wanted it to be. Plus, a simple ponytail was all she needed to keep it out of the way of her quiver, no need for elaborate braids anymore. Currently, though, it was as sophisticated and classy as it could get because sometimes it was just easier to let Leliana do what she wanted rather than try to fight her, especially when it came to fashion or shoes. The rogue was leaving the following day, headed back to Orleis to continue her work with Justinia. Alistair was staying for a few more days before returning to Denerim.

"Ana, what is this?" Leliana asked from across the room, pulling Zevran's letter out of Eriana's decorative box. She had asked it she could see Asala's ashes since she hadn't been present for the baby's funeral. Eriana had directed her to the box that was always tucked away in her closet. After saying a brief prayer over the small leather pouch, she had started sifting through the other possessions the elf kept stored in there.

"That is the letter Zevran left behind when he ran away from Highever. It was sitting on his pillow when I woke up in the morning; prat didn't even have the decency to give me a proper goodbye," she said, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice.

"I surmised that," Leliana replied as she flipped the letter around and pointing to the small post script. "I mean this Orlesian section. Have you ever translated it?"

Eriana nodded. "Nathaniel did that for me ages ago. He said that he recognized the quote, but couldn't place the source. We were kind of struggling to keep our heads above water at the time, but I never pressed the issue." She glanced over at her fellow rogue and noticed that she was paler than normal. "Why, did you catch the reference?"

Leliana nodded but said nothing.

"Well? Was it something important? What did I miss?"

"Clever Zevran," Leliana muttered. "He assumed you would ask me to translate knowing that I would be able to explain. It's a quote from the Rose of Orleis."

Eriana wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Why would he leave me a quote from a book that he knows I never read and had no desire to read?" She took the letter from Leliana and glanced over it, looking at the Orlesian section for the first time in a few years. "What does this book have to do with me?"

Leliana sighed and sat down beside her, taking the elf's hands in her own. "The Rose of Orleis is about Viola, the young daughter of a duke who falls in love with Claude, a squire in her father's service. The love affair is of course forbidden, so the two lovers must keep it hidden from everyone. They meet in her late mother's gardens, making love beneath the rose bushes. A good portion of the story was dedicated to that, actually. Though the relationship begins as a causal liaison, it soon develops into a deep and all-consuming love from both Viola and Claude. They begin to plan ways to be together, and they decide that he should enter the Grand Tourney and become a Chevalier. It will take him years to gain the necessary skills to even hope to achieve such a task, and in the end, it proves too much. Viola catches the eye of the Emperor's son, Julian. He becomes enamored with her and demands her hand. Viola's father, of course is thrilled and agrees instantly. Viola is devastated, but there is nothing that she can do about it. If she and Claude try to run, they will be captured and he executed. She cannot bear it, so she lies, telling Claude that she has no feelings for him, that he was a mere diversion."

"She breaks his heart to save his life," Eriana interjected.

Leliana nodded. "He flees the castle, abandoning his post and striking out on his own as she watches through the window. As she watches him go, she whispers those words, 'Tis a far better thing that I do now than I have ever done. My peace for yours.'"***

"She abandons him because she loves him. Is that what Zevran was trying to say with this? That he had to abandon me for my own good." Eriana rolled her eyes dramatically, scrunching her nose up in a scowl. "I'm not some poor little princess who is afraid of disappointing daddy. I stopped a Blight for Maker's sake. So was that the end?"

"No, there is a final chapter, though…" she paused as if trying to decide exactly what to say. "It's not important."

"Lils, tell me how the story ends."

The rogue sighed, but finished the story. Apparently, Viola had gone on to marry Julian and become the Empress of Orleis. Though she never found true happiness with her husband, it didn't matter. They had a peaceful, productive life together, at least until Claude returned. Nearly a quarter of a century passed before she saw him again. When she did, he was, in fact, a chevalier, successful and powerful in his own right. He was a commander of a massive force and had become wealthy beyond his wildest dreams...and he was married, happily married with half a dozen children ranging from 18 years old to 18 months old. When he was presented before the royal couple, he barely spared the Empress a glance, though her eyes drank in the sight of her once lover. The old feelings came roaring back to her chest as her husband talked briefly with the man she loved. Claude, however seemed to pointedly ignore her. When he did finally meet her eye, just before giving her the customary bow, there was such a look of hatred and disgust in his eyes that it destroyed her. The Empress killed herself that evening, a rose clutched in her hand.

Eriana understood the overall point of the story, and the bit at the bottom made more sense now that it had context. The assassination attempt had scared Zevran more than he was able to admit to either of them. His midnight flight and seemingly cool letter had been his way of ensuring that Eriana wouldn't attempt to follow. He likely assumed that Eriana would have Leliana read the Orlesian, knowing full well that the rogue would be in the deep roads for a long time. It was his way of reassuring Eriana that his love remained, all the while, removing the chance of her following him. That was years ago, though. Clearly he still didn't feel that way, and if he did, then he had a terrible way of showing it. No, it was time to pick up the pieces of her broken life, her shattered heart and put it all back together.

Suddenly, she started giggling, startling Leliana who was sitting next to her, attempting to read her expression. "Well, I must admit, this was not the reaction I was expecting from that story."

"No, no, it's not that," Eriana managed to get out between giggles. "I just realized that Nathaniel recognized the quote. That means Nathaniel reads sappy, smutty, romances." She dissolved into a second fit of giggles, and Leliana know that her friend would be just fine.

-0-

"You know, I'm really going to miss this when I have to return to the capital," Alistair said with a sad smile. He and Eriana were alone in his rooms, enjoying a rare moment together following another loud evening with the Amaranthine Wardens. It had been ages, more than two years, since the two had spent any quality time alone together, their individual duties and responsibilities keeping them apart for so long.

"What? You're going to miss all this loud, raucous, uncivilized behavior," Eriana said with a laugh. "I'm sure you can find some completely depraved individuals in the capital if you truly tried. The taverns are full of them, if I remember correctly."

Alistair gave a hearty laugh and moved to refill their drinks, depositing himself onto the couch beside her. "True, and I'm sure my presence there would be most welcome, not to mention the Queen's reaction if I returned and began prowling the taverns. I am the King, you know. Well, of course you know; this is all your fault. I can't go anywhere without a full detail trailing me." He waved his hand in a dismissive sort of way. "That's not what I was talking about, anyway. I'm talking about this, about you, about all of the wardens here and how you all treat me. Do you know that this if the first time in years that I've had a decent sparring match?"

Eriana cocked her head and looked at him. "How is that? I thought you had guards who sparred with you, you know to keep your skills sharp. When did that stop?"

"It hasn't stopped; I need to stay good with a sword in case we find ourselves at war any time soon. In fact, I work out daily with my guards, but it isn't the same. They pull every hit and mostly defend, and it isn't that they aren't capable soldiers. No, they're great when they're practicing against each other, but they refuse to challenge me, afraid that they'll injure me or bruise me or insult me by getting the better of me. So they sit back and defend, giving me only an occasional strike to defend, and even then, they pull every blow. Here though, your Wardens are different. They challenged me in a way I've not been challenged since you put this crown on my head; it's like they didn't see me as the king. I was a fellow Warden, and that was all."

"You did get your ass handed to you the first time you stepped into the ring," she pointed out with a smirk.

Alistair grinned, "I guess I didn't realize how rusty I'd become until I had someone really fight back, and that's what I'll miss."

"You'll miss getting waylaid on by a bunch of my Wardens. I think I can arrange something to fix that."

A sad smile crossed the king's face. "It's not just the fighting. Being back here, spending this week surrounded by Wardens, I was almost able to forget about this crown. It felt like things did before the Blight. I finally felt as though I was being myself for the first time in forever, like I was back where I belong." Alistair got up and walked to the fireplace, his massive form silhouetted by the firelight as he gazed into the heart of the blaze. "This was never my destiny, you know. Cailan was the one raised for all this, raised to navigate this world of courtiers and sycophants. I was raised to be a nobody, a body in templar armor. My time in the Wardens was the only time in my life when people saw me for me." He turned and the look on his face broke her heart. "Anna, I spend my day constantly surrounded by people, and I've never felt more alone."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm surrounded by people who are constantly vying for my attention, not because they want to know me, but because they want some favor or to be promoted above the man next to them. I never know if anyone is ever genuine with me. Everyone tells me what they think I want to hear, afraid to be frank with me because they fear losing favor. I never feel as though I have a true friend except when I am here. That's what I will miss."

"Oh, Alistair," Eriana said, her eyes heavy with tears as she closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back. His calloused hand covered hers for a moment before he turned to wrap his arms around her, drawing her against his chest. "I'm so sorry," she whispered into his chest, feeling genuine grief and guilt at trapping him in this lonely situation.

"It's not your fault. I willingly accepted this, and I know that it was the right thing, both for Ferelden and the Wardens. I knew that it would be tough learning how to run a country; I just never realized how difficult all the rest of it would be."

He pulled away to look at her without releasing her from the circle of his arms. "You know, with your hair cut like that, you look just like you did when you first joined the Wardens," he said, twirling a lock of blond hair around a finger. "I was so scared during your Joining."

"Scared during my Joining, why?"

"The other man who went through the Joining with me didn't make it, and yours was the first I had attended since then. Watching what happened to those other two…"

"Daveth and Jory," she whispered solemnly, her hand going to the amulet around her neck.

Alistair nodded. "After watching the Blight take Daveth, I was so afraid that you would succumb to it, too. You seemed so small, almost frail. The relief I felt when you opened your eyes and looked at us, Maker, I had never been so relieved." He took her face in his hand and tilted it up. "I think I realized then that I cared for you far more than I should, even if I was denying it at the time. And now, being here, surrounded by the feeling of the taint, seeing you like this, it feels like everything is right in the world again. And having you here like this," he stopped and looked at her for a moment before dipping his head down to capture her lips with his. Eriana seemed to tense up for a second before relaxing a bit as she sighed into the kiss, allowing him to deepen it for a moment before pulling back.

"We can't," she whispered, her eyes locked onto his. "You're married."

"A political marriage you arranged that has already fulfilled its intended purpose. There is no love lost between her and I," he said, capturing her lips once more. She let the kiss continue longer before pulling back again.

"But you're just letting nostalgia get the better of you."

"Erina, I've never stopped loving you. It isn't your hair or my melancholy feeling; it's you. It's always been you." Before she could respond, his lips where on hers again, eliciting a small moan from her as he drew her body flush against his.

"It's late, we've been drinking."

He grinned at that one. "Come on, you know as well as I that the taint in our blood burns through alcohol faster than is normal. Besides, you haven't had that much." Again his mouth was on hers, passionately claiming her lips, tasting the sweet wine still on her tongue. After a moment, he pulled back and glanced down at her. She just shook her head.

"I'm out of excuses."

"Thank the Maker," he muttered, lifting her up to gain full access to her mouth. Her slender legs wrapped around his waist, drawing them even closer together. Groaning, he began to make his way across the room to the massive bed, his lips leaving hers and attacking her neck and ears, making her moan in a way that made his breeches almost unbearably tight. Gently, he lowered her to the bed, gazing at her as her golden locks spread on the pillow behind her like a halo. Tearing his shirt off, he joined her, pushing up her tunic and kissing the flat planes of her stomach as his hands moved over her hips.

Slowly and methodically, Alistair explored the elven woman beneath him, worshiping her with his lips and hands. It was heaven for him; at last, after all these years of unrequited feelings, after watching her fall in love with another, she was with him. Her body beneath his, her lips and tongue clashing and dancing with his own. For her own part, she was extremely receptive, responding to him in a way Anora never did, not that he was thinking of his wife at this moment. The moment he saw Eriana's naked body laid out before him, any thought of his wife was gone. His entire world centered in and around the woman in his bed. This was where he belonged.

Somehow, both of them ended up divested of their clothing. To his great enjoyment, Eriana was by no means passive. Her hands move over the muscles of his back before reaching between them and gently grasping him. Alistair bit back a gasp as her hands moved over his length, alternating between caressing and squeezing him. He shuddered and began reciting portions of the Chant in his head to keep from finishing right then and there. Never before had he ever experienced anything quite like this. Immediately he realized that there was a very real difference between making love and whatever it was he and Anora had been doing.

Eriana must have sensed this because she pulled back and looked at him through half-lidded eyes, giving him a small, happy smile. Placing her hands on the back of his neck, she drew him down, claiming his lips as she shifted her body, positing herself so that he was brushing against her entrance. After a few teasing shifts, she thrust her hips forward, impaling herself on his length, taking him in fully and holding him there for a moment before she began to move again.

"Anna, oh, so wet, so tight," he muttered in her ear, allowing his own pleasure to control him as he began to match her rhythm. How he wanted this to last forever. If he died at this moment, he knew it would be as a happy man. Summoning all of the templar discipline he still had, he moved with her, willing himself to hold on until her body gave a small shudder and she gasped in pleasure. Only then did he allow his release, nearly drowning in pleasure as he emptied himself into her. Staying in her long after he was spent, just to continue to feel her velvet walls hugging him.

All too soon, his arms began to tire from the strain of holding up his weight to keep from crushing her. Sighing to himself, he collapsed to the side, pulling her with him as he drew the blankets over them both. "Stay with me," he whispered into her ear.

She didn't respond, not verbally at least. She merely cuddled against him, resting her head against his chest as she molded her body against his side, draping her leg over his. How he wanted to stay awake, to savor this moment, but weariness got the better of him as he drifted off to sleep.

-0-

Eriana didn't sleep. Not immediately anyway; there was too much on her mind to allow her to drift off as well. What had happened with Alistair wasn't exactly a surprise. For a long time she had known that the King had always maintained his feelings for her, but being the friend that he was, he had stepped aside for the sake of her and Zevran. Now he was in Denerim, and as much as she wanted to say yes to him when he asked her to return to the capital - and there was no doubt in her mind that that would now happen - she knew that there was no way for it to work. Alistair would have to be a one time thing, whether she wanted more or not.

That, however, wasn't what was tying up her brain and keeping her from sleeping. She was trying to sort out what exactly had happened to her. Being with Alistair was a refreshing and revitalizing experience. The attention that he lavished on her made her feel like a woman again, not some piece of trash so casually cast away. In a way, it had helped to restore her confidence, making her feel like she did before the whole Highever episode.

Not only that, but there was also the fact that Alistair is a human. Though that detail didn't seem all that important at first - she had been with several humans before either he or Zeran had come along. The fact that he was a human would not allow Eriana to fall back into her old practice of pretending that she was still with Zevran, something she was ashamed to admit happened quite frequently with Zander. Alistair, though, was undeniable. His massive arms, shoulders, and powerful legs made it impossible to imagine that she was with Zevran. Their bodies were just too different. Zander had been like a sweet poison, bitter and harmful in the end, but so sweet that she kept coming back. That sweet escape was what she needed, but without the bitter memories of Zev.

Suddenly she was struck with a moment of inspiration. It wasn't Alistair necessarily who made the difference. His kind and sweet proclamations of love were not the things that made her feel so alive. It was the lust, the raw desire that gave her that feeling. She hadn't really realized how much Zevran's abandonment had destroyed her confidence in herself, nor had she realized the degree to which her self worth had been tied up in him. However, it made sense, really. Zeran had always gone the extra mile to make her feel special, and before him, no man she had been with had ever helped her to see the value in herself. When he left, it was like all that had disappeared. All the confidence, all the growth that had taken place during the Blight was suddenly gone and it had taken two and a half years for her to heal. She didn't need a man to define her, not any longer.

Glancing up at Alistair, she tried to sort out what had brought about this revelation. It wasn't the sex, not in and of itself at least. Perhaps it was the understanding that she was still desirable, that she didn't need Zevran or a Zevran substitute to make her feel attractive, to feel alive, and that understanding made everything else so clear. Zevran was gone, and all signs indicated that he wasn't coming back. It was time to finally pick up the last pieces of her broken heart, put it back together, and move on. It was time to move on, not with Alistair, or with any other man. It was time to take back her life. Smiling to herself, she snuggled up against Alistair and allowed herself to drift off into a dreamless, restful sleep.

She was over him.

-0-

Her sleep wasn't quite as restful as she had hoped, not that she was complaining, mind you. Alistair stirred a few hours later, and there was a passionate repeat of their earlier encounter, followed by a third time when they woke up in the morning. It was perfect until Alistair ruined it.

"Move back to Denerim with me," he whispered to her as they were recovering from their morning romp.

Eriana groaned. "Alistair, that's a bad idea and you know it."

He drew her against him and nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. "No, I think it's a fantastic idea. You don't have to live in the castle; the Warden compound is rebuilt. You could move a squad there."

She propped up on an elbow and looked over at him. "And do you think that would fool anyone? You might as well make me to official palace mistress."

"If I thought you would allow that, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I don't care what everyone else thinks; I just want to be with you."

Eriana gave him a sad smile and cupped his face. "I know you don't care about everyone else, but I do; I have to. Alistair, becoming your mistress would undo everything that that I have done for the image of elves. People would forget about what I did during and since the Blight and focus only on the fact that I was warming your bed. Look at the elf, screwing the king to keep her Wardens in power; it's the only thing she's good at."

She shook her head. "It would be like the Eamon situation all over again."

Alistair tensed immediately, and she silently cursed herself. She was always far too chatty after sex. "What Eamon situation?"

Eriana scrambled. "You know, when he forced us to end our relationship."

"No," he said, eyes narrowing, "that's not what you were talking about. You know something. Did something happen? Do you know something about his death?"

"He was ambushed by bandits, right? That's all I know."

"That was the official story, yes, but there were a few things that were off about the whole scene. A few things that seemed a bit too staged, too perfect. We decided to keep that quiet, but there are several of us who suspect there was more behind it. And I'm suspecting that you know what I'm talking about."

Eriana sighed and crawled out of bed, grabbing her clothes and pulling them on. Alistair asked what she was doing. "Look, this is not a conversation I'm having naked in bed. Come to my room in a bit and we'll talk about this over breakfast," she said as she made her way to the wall, using her signet ring to open the hidden door in the room. She smiled at Alistair's surprised look. "Nate and I are the only ones with access to these doors. They're lyrium rune protected. Besides, it'd look bad for me to try to sneak out of your room at this hour. Give me a half hour and then meet in my room for breakfast."

She didn't head back to her room immediately, but made her way to Nathaniel's room. The rogue was up and fiddling with one of his bows when she poked her head in. "So, I may have let it slip that I know something about Eamon to Alistair."

"Might have let it slip or…"

Eriana blushed. "I'm chatty after sex, I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional," she said, quickly explaining the conversation with the King. "So, I thought we could explain what happened to him over breakfast."

Nathaniel groaned, but set his bow aside. "I'll go and fetch breakfast while you go and get ready."

"Thanks, Nate."

"And really? The King?"

Eriana gave him a wave of her hand. "What can I say; the heart wants what the heart wants." She turned to leave before stopping herself and poking her head back into his room. "And by the way, remember that Orleisan quote from Zevran's letter I asked you to translate?"

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "Vaguely."

"Well, Leliana translated it again, and she recognized the quote. You know, the one you recognized but couldn't place."

Nathaniel groaned. "I assume it was something bad, otherwise you wouldn't have that devious grin on your face."

Eriana bit her bottom lip as she smiled. "I only have three words for you... Rose of Orleis," she said before ducking from the room, laughing to herself as a soft thud echoed in the corridor behind her.

Nathaniel groaned and retrieved his shoe from beside the door. He was never going to hear the end of this.

-0-

Alistair sat stunned, staring at the two rogues sitting across the table from him. After a few moments of silence, Eriana reached across the table to take his hand. "Alistair, say something."

"Say something. By the Fade, Ana, what do you expect me to say? You just told me that my chief advisor, the man who practically raised me kidnapped and attempted to kill you. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Plausible deniability," Nathaniel said. At the King's confused look, the rogue continued. "Look, say we did fill you in on everything that happened, and somehow someone found out that we were involved in Eamon's death. You would now be party to the death of a high ranking member of your council, and that's not something that looks good to anyone. By withholding this information from you, if it went south, you could truthfully deny all knowledge of this."

Alistair pondered this for a moment. "I could have denied it anyway."

Eriana laughed at that. "No offense, Alistair, but you're balls at lying. We found that out the hard way during the Blight. Why do you think we took Ogren instead of you on most of our shady missions?"

Even Alistair had to laugh at that. "Alright, I give you that, but I still wish you had told me. Ana, you're my best friend; I think that gives me a right to know when something like this happens to you."

"I know, Alistair, and believe me, I wished I could have told you," Eriana said, taking his hands across the table, "but you had to be believable at his funeral. If you had known, there was no way you could have, and you know it. It was just better this way."

He sighed, but patted her hands. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand."

"And you understand why I can never move to Denerim to be with you, right? Eamon was not alone his feelings even if he was the only one to act on them. My being there would just make everything worse. It's better for everyone if I'm here out of sight. Coming the the capital occasionally for official visits is still too much for some people; it's just better for all if I keep my distance."

Alistair nodded sadly. "I guess this is what comes with saving the world. Being a hero doesn't mean you get what you want."

"No, it doesn't," Eriana said sadly. "But would it make you feel any better to know that Nathaniel reads smutty Orleisan romances?"

-0-

A.N.

I know that this update has been a long time coming. I swear that I am on the verge of wrapping this up. I have several chapters still to go, so please don't give up on me yet. Thank you to those of you who are still hanging in there.

*** To paraphrase Dickens A Tale of Two Cities