Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: Takes place ten years or more after the events of Dragon Age: Origins, from the background of a female Human Noble pc who has recruited Loghain and persuaded an "altered" Alistair to marry Anora and rule as King despite his survival, and persuaded Loghain to perform the dark ritual with Morrigan. May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

A/N: I based much of my version of Loghain for this story upon my older brother, beyond what we get of his appearance and persona from canon (I know that sounds gross considering there's a romantic aspect at play, but I wasn't basing THAT on my brother). "Waste of jaw energy" is Tim's definition of anything beyond steak and potatoes, really. And yes, "Fete Accompli" is deliberate - a double-entendre both for the fact that the parties are more or less done by the time this chapter starts, and that Anora's plans are completely set and unalterable. Oh, and furthermore, I love Simon Templeman(Loghain - and Caladrius, and Bann Ceorlic, and Mervis the Merchants Guild Contact (and Judge Zargabath, although that's a different fandom but still a favorite))'s voice. I'm playing up the growly aspects because Loghain does spend so much time speaking harshly that it's a bit of a surprise to hear the character speaking normally.

Chapter Fifteen: Fete Accompli

"Please, my Lady, do remain still! These alterations are very delicate!"

"Ouch! Damn you, woman, you stabbed me!"

"With a pin, Elilia," Queen Anora said, sounding both amused and exasperated. "You've been stabbed by worse."

The beleaguered dressmaker made another minute adjustment to the bodice of the garment she was measuring. "It shall be over soon, my Lady, I swear it." Indeed, she was obviously quite looking forward to having done with her obstreperous client. She backed away and looked Elilia over from head to foot, critiquing her work and the way it draped the powerful and frightfully unfashionable body beneath it. She could not, as she feared, make a silk purse from this particular sow's ear, but she did her best out of pride of appointment. At least she has a fine womanly bosom, so no one should think my lovely gowns are being worn now by men…hopefully.

"I believe the breadths are as they should be now, Your Majesty," the dressmaker informed the Queen gravely, with a curtsey. "I have the proper measurements and will have the gown ready before the Presentation in three days. Shall we speak of trimmings?"

"We shall speak of getting me out of this monstrosity as quickly as possible," Elilia growled.

"Hold - you can't take it off until we've decided how it should be finished," Anora commanded. "Are you certain that particular shade of blue is appropriate to the Lady Cousland's rather…golden skin tone?" A polite way of saying that Elilia had spent too many years baked in the sun and looked more like a farm girl than a noblewoman. The rich cerulean shade popularly known to Fereldens as "Cousland Blue" was a good shade to use when making the statement that she was being restored to her family title, but it had clearly never been intended to be worn by someone with such dark skin. At worst the effect could be said to be garish, and at best it was certainly eye-popping.

"Once the dress is finished, Your Majesty, it will not be so conflicting. All it requires is careful attention to trimmings. Silver is the tradition for the Couslands, I know, but I believe that gold threading and trims will help to offset and balance out the shades. I know that it is High Summer, but I believe a trim of ermine about the cuffs, skirts, and corselet would be quite elegant, and draw attention away from certain…unfortunate…features."

"Such as?" the Queen asked, and Elilia winced, not wanting to know.

"The…shoulders, Your Majesty…are rather…broad."

"Those broad shoulders have saved Ferelden," the Queen said, clearly more amused than stern. "All of Thedas, in fact."

"Oh, no one respects the Lady Warden more than I, Your Majesty, what she has done for all of us is simply fantastical. But she is…difficult…to clothe."

"Well, do your damnedest," Anora said, in a fair imitation of her father. "It is not Elilia Cousland the warrior who will stand before the Landsmeet to receive her title, but Elilia Cousland the high-born lady."

"Can you remind me of why that is again, exactly, Your Majesty?" Elilia said through gritted teeth. The heavy fall of flocked wool was hot and itchy and uncomfortable and she longed for the familiar encumbrances of her armor. She did not miss the days when her mother stuffed her into foolish frippery and forced her to parade in front of all the eligible noble sons - of bitches, most of them, though she wasn't always sure whether it was truly any fault of their mothers. She had a horrifying presentiment that Anora was now doing exactly the same thing to her, for the same purpose - to marry her off to some rich house. As if any of Ferelden's noblemen would consider her marriageable! She'd run her blade through the heart of the first man bold enough to propose - with extreme pleasure if it happened to be that rapist bastard Vaughan Kendalls!

Finally the Queen and her royal dressmaker were finished arguing the fine points of fashion. Elilia neither knew nor cared what they at last settled upon, even though she was the poor fool who would be forced to wear it for however long the Landsmeet Presentation lasted. Such things had a dreadful tendency to spin out tediously. She fairly panted with impatience as the ridiculous gown was carefully removed from her figure by a small army, it seemed, of elven assistants. She had forgotten what it was to wear a boned corselet - and this one hadn't even been laced properly! Bereft of all but her smallclothes, Elilia stood with her feet braced and her hands fisted upon her hips, unabashed, as another team of elven servants scurried in with her armor. The dressmaker eyed her muscled frame with undisguised disapproval, particularly scandalized by the many livid scars she bore. The worst of these, a puckered line extending from her left armpit all the way down her side, curving beneath the breast and terminating just above her navel, had been put there by the Archdemon itself, and had very nearly ended her role in that final assault. Only a furious attack of healing spells from Wynne, Morrigan, and the Circle mages present to assist allowed her to raise her sword and battle on.

Once more properly dressed, Elilia was allowed to escape the Queen's clutches. They'd been in Denerim a week, and much of that week had been spent in exactly the sort of mind-numbing company she dreaded - vacuous nobles congratulating themselves heartily for things they never had a hand in, idiotic remarks about the beneficence of the Maker from brain-washed priests and Chantry hangers-on. Thank all that was good and holy for Loghain, a splash of cold, sensible water amidst the boil of foolishness and drunken revel. Thank the Maker for Seanna, for that matter, since the mage's shyness gave Elilia a perfect excuse, when needed, to bow out of the worst of the carousing and take her back to their rooms for peace and quiet. And then of course there were the Blessings, the Dedications, the Funerals, the Processions - all of which found her standing in full armor and at full attention for hours beyond counting while some buffoon droned away in speech after speech. Even Alistair was guilty of it - one of his addresses lasted a good forty minutes. He'd changed a lot from the young lad fresh from templar training, too afraid to put himself forward even to take the lead over a completely green recruit. At least his heart was still a good one. Anora's speeches were more frequent but also more satisfactory - the Queen liked to get to the point quickly, hammer it home, and then retreat and let her well-chosen words do the work they were intended for. She rarely exceeded ten minutes in any address, and never went beyond fifteen. Elilia applauded her economy of words but couldn't quite forget that all of this fresh hell was at the Queen's behest and plan.

Loghain was asked - nay, commanded - to speak, but his spare speech surpassed even his daughter's. "We won - isn't that enough?" he growled, and stalked away in a state of high dudgeon. Elilia had seen him pocketing sweets from the serving tables all that evening, and knew he had no taste for them. "Waste of jaw energy," he called such things, and eyed with deep suspicion anyone over the age of ten who seemed to enjoy such treats. Anxious to escape lest she be called upon to speak next, Elilia drew Seanna along with her and followed the man through the empty corridors of the palace to the nursery, where they had their own private revel with the young prince and princess, too young to attend such a late-night gathering even though Duncan had been forced to put in an appearance at the start of it. The children were far better company than their elders, though Baby Anora threw a comfit in Elilia's face with deadly aim. The little innocent had quite the temper.

Elilia had teased him about smuggling food to his grandchildren. "Do you recall when we were about three days out of Denerim and we were beset by that pack of Blight-crazed wolves at that place where they'd set all those bloody useless traps for them? If I remember correctly, you asked in quite an irritated manner whether any of the rest of us had committed the sin of carrying table scraps, luring them."

"I…vaguely…remember that," he said cautiously.

"I always meant to call you on that, since only the day before I saw you taking a bit of cheese from your belt pouch and tossing it to my dear old hound Kiveal right in the middle of the roadway. And at several occasions I saw you feeding him scraps of roast boar, long from any meal."

"…Your point?"

She elbowed him hard in the ribs. "You were the one carrying table scraps, you great ox!"

He tried hard to scowl, but the expression crumbled rapidly and he actually laughed along with Duncan, who thought it quite a fine joke. Baby Anora did not quite understand what was funny, but not to be outdone she at last emitted a loud "Haw!" That set everyone off in another burst of laughter, which rather fretted the child for a moment before she, too, was laughing quite merrily - so much so, in fact, that she gave herself a case of the hiccoughs and was rescued by the nurse, who whisked her away to bed.

Loghain was different with the children than he was with other people, Elilia saw with some approval. Gentler, even in the tone of his voice. She had not thought him capable of not sounding harsh, that years of growling and barking and bellowing had roughened a throat never designed to be melodious in the first place, but once in awhile when he spoke to his grandchildren - particularly to Duncan, who was much more sensitive than his sister even though he seemed to have a fine burgeoning manliness to him - Elilia caught tones in his voice that were almost soothing. Musical, even. She beamed upon the sight of the great warrior with the happy young boy enthroned upon his knee until she realized with some disgust that her feelings were becoming distinctly broody and maternal. She liked children well enough when they were someone else's, but she'd long ago settled herself to never having any of her own.

"…My Lady?"

The quiet inquiry brought her back to the present with a start. She paused and allowed Seanna to catch up with her - in her eagerness to leave the stuffy dressmaker's stuffy parlor she'd completely forgotten her new friend, who'd waited patiently and without comment upon a settee by the door the whole time she was fussed and fitted. "Sorry, Seanna - my mind was wandering. Am I walking too fast for you?"

"No, my Lady, but I feared you would walk straight through the wall of the tavern, you seemed so intent upon your trajectory," the mage said, with the slightest hint of a laugh buried in her deference. Surprised, Elilia looked ahead of herself and saw that she was indeed but a few preoccupied strides from slamming straight into the side of the Gnawed Noble. Sheepishly she detoured to the front of the building.

"You wanted a chance to browse The Wonders of Thedas, didn't you?" she said. "It's just around the corner here. And I asked you to please stop calling me 'My Lady.'"

"Yes, my Lady," Seanna said, and now there was far more than just a hint of laughter in her voice. Elilia smiled. The girl was loosening up, which was good. Like most of the close companions that drew to the stalwart warrior woman's company over the years, the mage's story was not an happy one. Hopefully her life would be a bit more enjoyable now, even if more dangerous. Elilia held the shop's door open for her and followed her inside.

"Oh my…all these books…are for sale?" the mage said wonderingly. She'd grown up surrounded by books, of course, but none she could call her own. The small bag of sovereigns Elilia had paid her upon their return to the city was the first coin she'd ever even seen. The only things she'd ever owned were those things issued her by the Circle - basic robes, plain wooden staff, a hood, and a ring inscribed with the mark of the Circle. She was now to embark upon the thrilling adventure of her first purchase, and Elilia went along to ensure that her money was not turned down simply because she was an elf. Many merchants wouldn't take anything higher than silver from "knife-ears," assuming the only way they could acquire gold was through theft.

"They are indeed, Seanna. Lots of other things for sale here, too - models of exotic creatures from faraway lands, clothing bearing powerful enchantments, runes, jewelry. I even bought a map of ancient Tevinter here once, a present for Loghain. Wouldn't have guessed he'd care about maps of places he's never been and wouldn't go if he were paid coin of the realm to do so, but frankly I think he likes maps the way most people like paintings. Cartography's just another art form, to him."

Seanna cast an impish eye at her. "You're very fond of Lord Loghain," she observed slyly.

"He's no lord, Seanna, not anymore - although it wouldn't surprise me at all if Anora manages to talk Alistair around to some sort of title for him eventually, even if its one of those faintly condescending titles that are really just demeaning jobs fobbed off on younger sons presented by their noble parents as courtiers. And I like him, yes - we've been through a lot of shit together. Manufactured quite a bit of it for each other."

"My understanding is that he tried many times to kill you."

Elilia laughed and thumbed through the pages of a book on Nevarran dragon hunters, looking for pictures. "Sometimes it seems that all of my best friends have tried at some point to kill me. Loghain isn't the only one."

Seanna ducked her head and hid her smile behind a copy of a book with the provocative and puzzling title of Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder. "He is very handsome, for an older man."

Elilia's burst of laughter at that was loud and piercing enough even to make the Tranquil storekeeper turn disapproving eyes upon her, but she paid him no mind. "If you think ogres are handsome, I suppose."

"I believe that you do," Seanna said, forest-green eyes shining with merriment.

"Seanna, what is that book you're looking at? I believe it may be warping your poor innocent mind." She snatched away the volume and scanned a few pages. It appeared to be a seamy romance about a corrupt guardsman who was systematically working his way through every unattached - or otherwise - woman in Kirkwall while at the same time engaging in ferocious pitched melee with scores of thugs and cutthroats. Pirates, even, and Tevinter slavers. Utter trash. Seanna had to jostle her rather roughly before she could tear herself away from it.

"You shouldn't read things like this, Seanna, they're not good for you," Elilia said. She made to put the book back on the shelf but slipped it beneath her copy of Nevarran Dragon Hunters instead. She didn't care for the passages about sex a bit, of course, but she'd been pulled away from a battle to protect a poor young mage girl from a group of power-mad templars and she had to know whether Donnan Brennakovic managed to save her or not. It was only fifteen silvers, after all. "If you must know, Loghain has certain qualities I do find rather attractive in a man. His appearance isn't one of them, nor his personality."

Seanna leaned in close and whispered. "You've bedded him, haven't you? The rumor flew all about the camp, but I didn't know to believe it until I saw the two of you together."

"Seanna!" Elilia said, shocked, but then she burst into a fit of the giggles - girlish and ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. "We shared an…intimate moment, since you brought it up. For several hours, in fact. He may be old, but the man's got staying power."

Seanna giggled. "I get to read that after you're done with it," she said, and tapped the cover of Nevarran Dragon Hunters with one long, tapered fingernail. Elilia knew she had no interest at all in the techniques involved in killing dragons. She grinned at the little mage.

"Deal."

They finished their shopping, chatting and giggling together like schoolgirls. Elilia bought a small scale model of the Archdemon Urthemiel - "In memory of an old fiend" - in addition to her books. Seanna bought several books, a pair of good quality leather-soled boots with soft oilskin sides to replace the flimsy and rather ancient ones that wore out on the long trek back from the battle, and a beautiful silverite chain from which depended a large cabochon of deep blue lapis inlaid with a half moon of mother-of-pearl, rounded and polished to perfection until it seemed almost a natural part of the larger stone. She immediately presented this rather pricey treasure to Elilia, who attempted to refuse.

"Please, take it. I've never been able to give someone a gift before," Seanna said. The imploring look in her eyes was something Elilia couldn't defend herself against.

"All right. Thank you, Seanna, it's absolutely lovely." She put it on at once. It felt strange and heavy and very out of place, but there was something soothing in the cool stone when she touched it with bare fingers, and without question it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had owned since becoming a Warden. She always liked to ferret out the things that made her companions' hearts skip and give them gifts accordingly, and now she had extra incentive to watch for that special gleam in Seanna's eye.

"Shall we go back to the palace now?" Seanna asked. "I believe we may just have time to make ourselves presentable for dinner."

Elilia made a face. "I do so hate dining at the palace. When I became a Grey Warden I put all such nonsense as soup spoons and salad forks and elbows-off-the-table out of my head completely, and I don't care to be forced to remember it now!"

"You don't have to stand on proper dining etiquette, you know," Seanna said, with an ill-stifled laugh. "Loghain certainly doesn't. He uses the same fork for every course and scoops up peas and beans with his knife."

"I'm just surprised he doesn't swallow the utensils," Elilia said cheerily. "That man's appetite is enormous. The way he packs it in, you'd think he was still a Warden."

"At least if he is not an overly formal diner, he is not a piggish one," Seanna said fairly. "Some of the so-called 'high-born' that dine with the King and Queen make the most infernal noises as they eat, and they let the gravy dribble down their chins, no matter how delicately they quirk out their pinkies when gulping down ale and wine."

"Ah, that's right. They sat you next to poor old Arl Wulffe last night, didn't they? He's a relative of mine - well, pretty much all the nobles are, to some degree - and he's probably the only man in Thedas gruffer and more ill-mannered than Loghain. But he's a good soul, he is. I'm glad he finally remarried - lost both his sons to the Blight, working hard to evacuate his people before they could be overwhelmed by the Darkspawn. Not many nobles put so much on the line for the poor folks they were meant to protect, or lost so much. That new wife of his seems a decent sort, and their little girl is a darling."

"What do you think the Queen has planned for you at the Landsmeet?" Seanna asked, after a period of companionable silence. Elilia sighed heavily.

"Terrors and torment, no doubt. Loghain is a cunning man but generally you can count on him to attack you head-on as long as he's the one in the vanguard. His daughter is much more subtle. It's difficult to defend against a foe that kills you with generosity and heaped honors."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, unattractive old battleaxe though I may be I am still sister of a Teyrn. It would serve her well to auction me off to some unmarried nobleman, particularly an unbiddable one that doesn't do things quite Her Majesty's way. As the 'Hero of Ferelden' she would expect me to quickly usurp my husband's power and then she would have a powerful ally in the Landsmeet where once she had a foe. Little as I care to admit it, I'm often of Anora's mind about what should be done in this country, if not always in perfect agreement as to how. It's why I felt it was necessary to keep her in power. She's much better at the day-to-day business of ruling than Alistair could ever have been without her to teach him, and she's not afraid of the ruthless part of being a monarch, either. Alistair on his own, I fear, would quickly have become the puppet of Arl Eamon. Anora is too much her own woman to ever be manipulated like that."

"Why do you say such things about yourself?" Seanna said reproachfully. Elilia nodded to the palace guardsman as they passed by into the massive and rather dour structure.

"Say what things about myself?"

"That you are an 'unattractive old battleaxe.' You seem a beautiful and kind-hearted woman to me, and not at all old."

"I'm thirty-one."

"And I'm thirty-four!" Seanna flashed back.

"Well, I know, but thirty-four doesn't look as bad on an elven woman as thirty-one looks on a human woman. And believe me, on the marriage market a thirty-one year old woman is indeed very, very old. A lot of Ferelden noblewomen are married off at sixteen. It wasn't that long ago that the proper age was considered to be fourteen. I was that young when my mother started scouting for suitable husbands for me, not that I think she meant to give me away so soon. At one point the best prospects looked to be Vaughan Kendalls and Thomas Howe - both absolutely loathsome creatures, one a philanderer even at a very young age - with a taste for unwilling women, no less - and the other a drunkard from the age of fifteen. I don't think my mother believed the rumors about them, or she never would have considered them suitable, I'm sure. One Satinalia we spent in Denerim old Arl Urien was pressing his son's courtship suit so hard that I was terrified I would be married by First Day so I ran off to the docks and got this tattoo. Absolute scandal, it was, and my parents were horrified - but it put paid to the Kendalls trying to win my hand for their odious son. I'm glad to see he still hasn't married, because I would fear for any poor soul saddled with him for a husband, but it worries me, too, since he's quite an obstacle for the Royal Agenda at the Landsmeet, not that he has any brains with which to refute them. Anora would certainly like to have him quietly and effectively squashed, and what better way to do that than with a strong-willed wife to whom people would prefer to listen? I should be forced to murder him if we were wed, but on the upside Denerim would undoubtedly be the better for it, even if they hanged me."

"Ew, don't say such things," Seanna said, with a little shudder. "What is his own agenda?"

Elilia snorted. "To live as decadent a lifestyle as one can live in poor, simple Ferelden. I thought for a time my cousin Arl Bryland would marry his daughter Habren to Vaughan - cut from the same cloth, they were - but apparently he finally did his duty by her as her father and sent her off to the Chantry to make penance for her wicked lifestyle. Last I heard she'd actually taken Orders. 'Mother Habren.' A terrifying thought, to be sure. In any event, I should perhaps have warned you about Vaughan before now. He has a taste for elves, I fear to say, and frequents the Alienage as if it were his own personal whorehouse - not that he pays the poor girls anything, or allows them the choice. I'd kill him right now, if I could get away with it. Any road, he doesn't want to lose his toys so he blocks any and all proposals the Crown makes to improve conditions there. Anora had to fight him tooth and claw for six years before she finally managed to slip a proposal for improved drainage by him. It wasn't much of a win, but at least the elves aren't hip-deep in rainwater half the year anymore. And it's my fault, too - old Arl Howe was keeping him locked up in his own dungeons and I let the bastard go so he'd speak out for me at the Landsmeet. Still not sure why I didn't just gut him right there, but I needed the support. I think. Might still have gotten the majority vote without him."

She walked the long corridors to their room in glum silence for a time, her big head hanging, until they reached their door. "No use moaning about past mistakes, I suppose," she sighed at last. "I wish I could go in there and take hammer and nails to all the shoddy carpentry and clean the place up so its properly livable, but all their homes are owned by humans and if they were in any better condition they'd evict the elves and move in people who can pay higher rent. The Crown has been trying to buy the properties for years but Vaughan won't let the owners sell out. He's got stones, blocking the King like that. Hmm…I wonder if an anonymous private party could start making quiet purchases and buy the whole place out from under Kendalls before he knew what was happening?" she mused.

"It would be a bold move," Seanna said, "but a hopelessly expensive one."

Elilia grinned at her. "Being a Grey Warden has been astonishingly lucrative for me, dear. When I'm officially a Lady again, my brother intends to give me my proper share of the family inheritance, as well. In three days time I could potentially buy out a dozen Alienages, if the property owners will only sell to me. I've a mind to do it, too."