22 Firstfall, 9:31 Dragon
The rebuilt royal estate bustled with activity as the coronation rapidly approached. It had been this way since she arrived, and Arais was hidden away in her quarters. She listened to the footsteps that hurried to and fro in the corridor outside, a constant presence in varying volumes for the past two days and nights. She wouldn't mind it so much if every other servant didn't stop to ask if she needed something; as it was, she had gone directly to her room upon her return from the marketplace.
She had just come back from wandering Denerim, something she hadn't been able to do the previous day due to various meetings with Anora, discussing the ceremony for the evening and what Arais's part in it would be. While Anora agreed that Loghain deserved equal recognition for his part in the destruction of the archdemon, others present pointed out that it might cause discord among the nobles. Anora didn't seem to care, but she agreed, nonetheless. Arais sensed the queen was thinking of a way to honor her father, and deservedly so, but exactly what she planned to do was a mystery.
Her trip through Denerim had been like exploring a whole new city, so very different from the one through which she had fought wave after wave of darkspawn. The four months since had been dedicated to restoration. Though many of the nobles had been eager to get the coronation over with, Anora insisted that the marketplace and the homes immediately surrounding it be rebuilt beforehand. On this she would not budge, and it was only a matter of days before the nobles conceded.
The estates were sturdier, made entirely of granite, and she suspected the dwarven denizens had a hand in their construction. Even the homes of the common citizen were constructed with more substantial materials than the wooden planks from before the attack, and she couldn't imagine just how much gold had been poured into rebuilding the marketplace after so much chaos; especially for it to have happened so quickly. And still more would be needed to restore Fort Drakon, and the estates that had yet to be rebuilt.
Now, Arais sat at the vanity, the parchment with her notes listed on it spread out before her. A good number of points had been scratched out, either for being too extreme or too like something she had already written. She stared at what was left, wondering if it would be enough to accomplish any sort of progress for the Circle, or if perhaps it was too much. She knew a family being able to visit their kin was nonnegotiable, but what she would ask of the Chantry, regarding the templars . . . would they even take such a request seriously, especially if it came from a mage?
A knock at the door startled Arais from her notes, and thrust her violently back into the present. She turned to the door, brow furrowed. She wasn't expecting anyone.
"Who is it?" she called.
"N-Nessa," a melodic voice stuttered. "The queen sent me to deliver a package."
She let out a breath she had been holding, and her shoulders relaxed. "Come in," she called, adjusting her dressing gown to better cover herself, and slipped the notes back into her pack.
The door opened and closed, and when Arais turned to face her visitor, a petite elven girl with olive skin and dark red-brown hair greeted her. She carried two parcels in her lanky arms. "Mistress Amell, these are gifts from Queen Anora."
"Gifts?"
Puzzled, Arais took the parcels from the young girl and sat on the bed. She opened the smaller of the two first, revealing a pair of low-heeled, satin shoes. They were dark blue, with intricate silver beading along the edges. She set them aside and opened the larger parcel, and very nearly dropped the box when she saw what was inside: a luxurious pile of the most gorgeous gray brocade she had ever seen, and a smaller bundle of deep blue silk atop it.
She removed the blue fabric, unfolding it to reveal a strip easily as long as she was tall, if not longer. The elven woman approached her and held out her hand for the strip, which she folded neatly once again and placed it beside Arais on the bed. Arais then removed the larger bundle of fabric, a gown that she would have described as simple if not for the elaborately embroidered fabric. The neckline dipped into a V, and she was sure it would be far lower than she was used to. The handmaiden took the gown from Arais, and laid it out next to the strip of silk.
Beneath it lay yet another pile of blue silk, and when she took it out to examine it, found it to be a low cut slip. For a moment, she simply stared between the four items, unable to remember a time when she had been given a gift of such lavish quality. She was more than a little overwhelmed at the prospect of wearing something so extravagant, when she felt she would be just as appropriate—and quite a bit more comfortable—wearing her Warden robes to the ceremony.
There was yet another knock on the door, and she called for whomever was there to enter, her eyes still fixated on the slip she held.
"Ah, there you are!" an exuberant voice cried.
Arais looked up, surprised by the familiar Orlesian accent. "Leliana! What are you doing here?"
"I'm here for the coronation, of course." The redhead smiled. "You did not think I would miss an opportunity to celebrate our victory, did you?"
"No, no, of course not." Laying the slip aside, Arais stood and greeted her dear friend with an embrace. "It's just been a while."
"Too long, in fact." Leliana held Arais at arm's length. "How have you been?"
"It's been a long four months since the Blight ended, but I've been well, considering."
"I am glad to hear it." The bard's eyes shifted to the bed, where the elaborate gown lay. "Oh, you've gotten your gift from the queen!"
"You knew about it?" Arais asked.
"Of course, silly. How do you think the queen knew your measurements?" Leliana walked over to the bed and picked up the shoes, presenting them with an elaborate flourish. "Aren't these just lovely? I saw them in the marketplace and thought they suited you perfectly."
"They are beautiful, yes," Arais replied.
Her tone must not have been appropriate, because Leliana's smile faltered. "Is something the matter?"
"No, nothing is wrong. I'm just not quite used to receiving such extravagant gifts," she replied with a half-smile.
The bard nodded. "I suppose I should have expected as much." She grinned. "But the occasion certainly calls for it, don't you think?" Before Arais could respond, Leliana turned to the handmaiden. "I will help the Warden dress for the coronation, Nessa. Thank you for you help."
"Of course, mistress."
The elven woman left the room quickly, and Arais couldn't help but wonder just how long Leliana had been planning for this. A gown as lavish as it was must have taken time to make. It was entirely possible Leliana and Anora had commissioned it as soon as the date for the coronation had been set.
"Let's get to it, then, shall we?" the bard said cheerfully. Without hesitation, Leliana motioned for Arais to come closer. The mage complied, but didn't make any move otherwise. "You'll need to remove your dressing gown; you can hardly wear it under your gown."
Arais chuckled. "I suppose I can't." She unwrapped the tie around her waist and allowed the gown to slip from her shoulders, grateful for the fire that warmed the room. With Ferelden on the brink of winter, the perpetual chill in the castle was barely kept at bay.
Leliana lifted the slip over Arais's head, and the mage slipped her arms through the thin straps. The silk brushed her skin as it slipped down to her bare feet, pooling just the slightest bit on the carpeted floor.
"It's a bit long," she commented, gesturing downward.
"That's what the heeled shoes are for," Leliana replied.
She gestured for Arais to lift her arms again. The sleeves were snug on her arms, and the dress hugged her curves gently. The skirt split just below her waist, rippling off to either side until it touched the floor. Leliana wove the broad length of dark blue silk behind Arais's back and tied it elaborately over her stomach, the excess falling center between the split in the gown, just above her ankles.
Once she slipped on the shoes, Leliana led her to the full-length mirror by the door. The effect of the gown was stunning, and Arais was astonished. She was more than a little self conscious about just how revealing the bust was, but what could she do? There was no wrap to go with it, as far as she was aware, and her only other option was her mage robes. And she didn't want to insult Anora—the dress really was lovely, and she couldn't be more grateful.
"What do you think?" Leliana asked, her blue eyes shining with unabashed excitement.
"It's . . . gorgeous. Truly." Arais genuinely smiled. "Thank you for helping me dress."
"Oh, we're not quite finished yet." Leliana took her by the arm and practically dragged her to the vanity. "We still have to do something with your hair!" Before Arais could sit, there was a knock at the door.
Puzzled by the unexpected intrusion, she crossed to the door and pulled it open. A teenaged boy stood a pace back from the door, his hands folded in front of him. "A homing pigeon arrived at the castle with a missive for you."
He held out a small scroll, barely longer than her finger, which she took with a bit of confusion. "Thank you," she said. He nodded and walked off without another word.
She untied the delicate, dark blue ribbon that kept the scroll bound, and unrolled the note. She scanned the contents once, and immediately had to reread them. This couldn't possibly be . . .
"Well?" Leliana prompted, suddenly in front of Arais. "What does it say?"
Arais handed the parchment to the bard, unable to voice the contents. It just didn't seem like it could be real.
"Oh, my." Leliana stared at her, eyes wide with astonishment that easily mirrored Arais's own. "This says you've been named . . . " Leliana trailed off, and seemed to lose the words that normally came so easily to her.
After taking a deep breath, Arais forced herself to say it. "I'm the new Warden Commander of Ferelden."
She paced the hall outside the great hall, her nerves strung tight. Leliana had done her hair and makeup shortly after, and left her with a promise that she would say nothing unless Arais wished it. It certainly wasn't something she was prepared to deal with, at the moment.
Why Arais? Why make her, who had never left the Circle after the age of eight, the Commander of the Grey for an entire country? She barely survived the Blight!
She slipped the missive from the wrap at her waist, still entirely unsure why she had hidden it there in the first place.
Warden Amell
Due to your successful destruction of the archdemon and the darkspawn hoard, it has been decided that you will take Duncan's place as Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. The First Warden and I have already begun communications with your nation's queen with regards to replenishing Warden numbers, and we have informed her of your promotion in that time. We will be sending reinforcements as soon as your queen gives our Wardens permission to cross the border from Orlais.
Chamberlain Enrech
She stared at the first sentence, though she had it memorized by this point, still flabbergasted. Had they not been told that Loghain had been the one to actually kill the archdemon? Were the rumors in Ferelden really naming her the true victor, out of spite for the general? He would make a far more effective Commander than she—they must know that?
Arais stood by the door to the throne room, her heart fluttering wildly, and resisted the urge to run her hand through her hair—Leliana had pinned it back, and she wouldn't be happy if Arais ruined it before it could be seen. As the moments ticked closer to the coronation, she began to think of what was about to happen with more and more apprehension. Now she had not only the Circle to worry about, but the entirety of the bloody Fereldan Wardens, as well. Sure, for now there were only two of them, but reinforcements would be sent, according to the High Constable. And how many Wardens would that be? Ten? A hundred? He hadn't said, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Footsteps sounded behind the door, and it was flung open to reveal Leliana. She wore a long-sleeved, sheer lavender gown that ruffled at the bodice, and the dark blue slip she wore beneath peeked out at the hem.
The bard stopped short, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Arais! Why haven't you come in yet?"
"I suppose I'm just not ready," she replied, her voice shaking slightly with nerves.
"Oh." She took Arais's hand, and pulled her forward. "Well, the Grand Cleric has just announced that the coronation is about to begin. Come!"
The crowd assembled within the throne room was a collection of nobles and very, very few familiar faces. Arais looked around, and recognized only a handful of the men and women assembled beside the rich, yellow carpet that led to the throne. Further down the line, however, she recognized a small group of familiar faces, and she realized with relief that Leliana was leading her in that exact direction.
Zevran was the first to notice her approach, and the smile that split across his face was infectious. "Ah, Arais. Wonderful of you to finally join us," he teased, and wrapped her up in a tight embrace, placing a quick kiss on her cheek.
She chuckled. "Sorry I'm late."
"You're forgiven, my dear." He stepped back and looked her up and down. "You look ravishing, as always."
"Thank you, Zevran. Though I have Leliana to thank." She took in the black doublet he wore over a deep red tunic, and matching red trousers tucked into black leather boots. "You're looking very handsome yourself."
"Don't I always?"
He smirked, and she laughed again.
She turned to the rest of the group, a grin plastered on her face. Sten was there, clad in armor, and Asala strapped to his back. His expression was grim, though he nodded at her with the respect that seemed to characterize his interaction with her as of late. He said nothing, but she just knew how much it meant that he was still here, in Ferelden, when he could have left for his homeland at any point in the months since the archdemon was slain.
Oghren was slow to react to her presence, and she suspected he was already deep into his spirits. "Warden! It's about sodding time you got here." He held out his flask to her. "Here, have a drink! There's plenty to go around."
"No, thank you."
She smiled when he grunted and slipped the flask back into the holster at his hip. "Never was able to get you drunk, Warden."
"Oghren, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Arais?"
"It's not my fault human names are impossible to pronounce!" he retorted bitterly, and all but Sten laughed.
"Perhaps if you didn't imbibe quite so many spirits, you would have an easier time pronouncing a simple three syllable name," Sten remarked, and everyone turned to look at him, surprised. He merely shrugged.
"Look who's talking?" Oghren's head tilted dangerously to look the Qunari in the eye. "When's the last time you referred to any of us by our names?"
Sten's only response was to stare forebodingly at the dwarf, who held up his hands in mock surrender before reaching for the flask at his belt once more.
There was an obvious absence from the group, and Arais turned to Leliana. "Where is Wynne?"
"I'm . . . not sure," the bard replied, frowning. "The last message we received from Wynne said she and the First Enchanter would be coming, along with the Knight Commander, but that was over a month ago."
"I see." That was . . . worrisome, to say the least. What could be keeping them?
Out of the corner of her eye, Arais noticed the door to the great hall open. There she saw Wynne and First Enchanter Irving, who stood in the company of a full armored templar, helmet and all. The templar was too short to be the Knight Commander, and again Arais became concerned. Was something amiss at Kinloch Hold that required the Knight Commander's presence?
Wynne looked around the room, seemingly unconcerned with her late arrival. When she spotted Arais, Wynne swiftly made her way forward, the First Enchanter and templar close behind.
"Wynne, where have you been?" Arais asked, unable to temper the concern in her voice. "Why is the Knight Commander not with you?"
"The Knight Commander has elected to remain behind in lieu of more pressing concerns, regarding the disciplinary action of one of his templars." Wynne's following smile was one of reassurance, and she lowered her voice. "Everything is fine, Arais. Irving and I were able to convince Greagoir to keep a more watchful eye on Cullen. No one was hurt, but Greagoir is making some immediate changes to the duty roster after an incident with one of the older apprentices."
"Oh, thank the Maker." Relief bloomed warm and strong in her chest. "How is Connor? Is he adjusting well?"
"Connor is doing splendidly. He has made a number of friends—the young girl who introduced herself to him his first day, Vitalia, and some of the other children. The rumors of how his magic came to be discovered spread rapidly, no doubt thanks to the templars, but none of the children truly seem to care. The only ones who are wary of him are the older apprentices, but we've quashed any concerns they may have as they are brought to our attention.
"I'm afraid we won't be able to stay very long, as there is business we must attend to with the Grand Cleric after the ceremony, but I insisted we come so I could give you the news."
"I appreciate it," Arais replied, and hugged the older woman tight. "Do you know what Greagoir plans to do about Cullen?"
"Actually, that is why we came to Denerim. Greagoir is requesting for Cullen to be transferred to a different post, well away from Kinloch Hold, until he can work through his troubles. Greagoir is waiting on our word to inform Cullen of this, however, so we must make haste. But before we leave . . ." she trailed off, and gestured to the front of the hall.
The room fell silent, and all eyes turned toward the front of the great hall as Anora entered, Loghain at her side.
Anora came to stand in front of Grand Cleric Elemena, who stood on the raised dais at one end of the room. After passing her gaze across those assembled, the Grand Cleric raised her arms to begin the ceremony.
"All men are the work of our Maker's hands,
From the lowest slaves to the highest kings.
Those who bring harm
Without provocation to the least of His children
Are hated and accursed by the Maker."
Anora climbed the steps and faced the Grand Cleric, her long-sleeved white gown brushing the floor. Elemena held out her hands.
"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Ferelden according to our laws and customs?"
"I solemnly promise so to do." Anora's voice was strong and clear.
"Will you solemnly promise to use your power in law and justice, tempered by mercy, in all your judgments?"
"I solemnly promise so to do."
"Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the Laws of the Maker and of the Chant of Light? Will you maintain and preserve the doctrine, worship, and discipline of the Chantry? And will you preserve unto the Chantry all its lawful rights and privileges?"
Here, Anora paused. "All this I promise so to do. In the Maker's name, I swear."
The Revered Mother, whose name escaped Arais, stepped forward. She faced the room at large when she spoke. "I ask the people: Do you wish for such a ruler?"
Arais and all but the small group with which she stood said, "We wish it and grant it."
Again, Elemena spoke.
"Those who oppose thee
Shall know the wrath of heaven.
Field and forest shall burn,
The seas shall rise and devour them,
The wind shall tear their nations
From the face of the earth,
Lightning shall rain down from the sky,
They shall cry out to their false gods
And find silence."
"I give you Anora Mac Tir, Queen of Ferelden," Elemena said, and placed the elaborate circlet atop Anora's head. The Grand Cleric then turned, her arms spread out as if she wished to hold the entire room. "Maker save the queen!"
The crowd echoed the Grand Cleric, a great many of them cheering or whistling. The flowing, white sleeves of Anora's gown slipped down her forearm as she waved to her subjects, the golden embroidery glimmering in the sunlight that shown through the high windows. A soft smile turned up the corners of her mouth.
A slurred, "Maker save the sodding queen!" abruptly drew Arais's attention away from the queen.
"Oghren!" Leliana cried, her hand covering her mouth.
"Did I say that out loud?" Oghren hiccupped. "Heh. Oops."
Arais laughed, and Leliana did as well, despite her initial offense. None of the nobles seemed to have heard the dwarf's remark, and were rather more focused on Sten's complete lack of enthusiasm for the occasion. It didn't come as any sort of surprise to Arais, though—he wasn't human, and no one should have expected anything more than silent contemplation from the Qunari.
The room began to fall silent once more, and all eyes turned back to the throne, where Anora stood with her hands folded elegantly across her stomach. A pair of armored guards approached the small group with which Arais stood, and motioned for each of them to approach the throne. Arais felt the dozens of pairs of eyes follow her and her companions as they followed the guards.
"My friends," Anora began, her voice carrying to every corner of the great hall, "we are gathered not only for a coronation, but to celebrate those responsible for our victory just two months ago. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there is one in particular who deserves commendation.
"The one who led the final charge against the archdemon remains with us still"—she motioned for Arais to join her by the throne, and, with some hesitation, Arais complied—"an inspiration to all she saved that day. Ladies and gentlemen, may I formally present to you Arais Amell, Hero of Ferelden!"
The cheers that shattered the silence seemed to go on for an eternity, and Arais' cheeks burned. Grateful as she was, she wasn't thrilled with the attention. She did her best to tune out the whoops and whistles of the crowd, and focus on Anora, who patiently waited for silence.
Eventually, the crowd quieted as they became aware that the queen was not yet finished with her speech. "Warden Commander, it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favor. As a reward, I offer you a boon of your choice."
Arais froze, the use of her newly learned title stopping her cold. She looked down at her companions: all who were sober enough to be surprised were staring at her, dumbstruck, save Leliana, who simply had her hand on her chest, her eyes filled with concern.
The silence stretched out awkwardly, but Arais couldn't seem to open her mouth to deliver the words she had prepared. She looked around—expectant faces looked up at her, and she realized with a start that Teagan was among the nobles closest to the throne, with Isolde right beside him. How had she not noticed them sooner?
Their presence, but particularly Isolde's, reminded her why her request was so important, and with a deep, shaky breath, she began, "Your majesty, I would request that the Chantry grant the Circles of Magi in Ferelden independence, with the right to visitation with their families once a month." There was an audible gasp from the Grand Cleric. Ignoring Elemena, Arais added, "I do not ask that the templars be removed from their position as guardians, only that there are more stringent measures put in place to ensure that men and women who will treat the mages with dignity are recruited in the future, and that current templars are more closely watched for mistreatment."
There were whisperings from the crowd, silenced only when Anora lifted her hand. "I doubt the Chantry will agree I have the authority to grant your request, however" the queen said, with a small, barely noticeable smirk, "I do, and you have an excellent point."
The Grand Cleric made a disgruntled noise, but said nothing.
Arais glanced to the crowd, and saw Wynne looking up at her, a good-natured, "I told you so," shining in her eyes.
"Let it be known that Ferelden's mages have earned the right to watch over themselves, and to see their families. The tower shall be restored and returned to the Circle." All this she said to Arais directly, and then turned to face the room at large. "Let it also be known that the Arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Rendon Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. There they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them." Anora glanced back at Arais briefly. "And I think it only appropriate that Warden Commander Amell be named arlessa."
Maker's blood. Arlessa? Was Anora completely mad, or had her sanity been temporarily compromised by the coronation?
"There is one other person here today deserving of recognition." Anora made a brief gesture, and it was as if the nobles collectively forgot how to breathe when Loghain ascended the steps, his movements deliberate. He had expected this; that much was obvious. Arais could see it in the confidence of his gait as he stepped up beside her, and the way he angled his chin upward when he turned to face the gathered nobles, as if he dared any of them to say a word. They looked to their neighbors, and their wide eyes and, in some cases, slightly opened mouths conveyed their shock.
"Loghain Mac Tir. Arais Amell." The seneschal came forward at Anora's insistence, and opened the lid to a carved wooden box. Two gemmed pendants lay on the golden velvet within. "You have gone above and beyond the call of duty in defense of our beloved Ferelden, and in appreciation for your actions, I hereby award you Calenhad's Cross, the highest honor it is my right as queen to bestow." She lifted one of the pendants by the gold and white sash and placed it around Arais's neck. Despite its small size, it settled itself heavily against her chest. "In the name of Calendhad the Great, here in the sight of the Maker, I thank you on behalf of all of Ferelden's citizens for your bravery."
Loghain bowed slightly to allow Anora to place the medallion around his neck. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, and straightened his back. Anora smiled up at him, and her eyes glimmered briefly with emotion.
There was a brief round of applause—muted compared to the cacophonous cheering from earlier—as the queen moved to stand beside Loghain and turned, allowing the seneschal to come forward. "Thank you all for joining us on this fine occasion. You are invited to join us for a feast in an hour's time, followed by a grand ball for all to enjoy. The queen hopes to see you all there." He descended the steps rapidly, and disappeared through a door off to the side.
After the seneschal was gone, Anora went down the steps, her father beside her. Loghain seemed far removed from his usual, brooding demeanor, and the pride that shone bright in his blue eyes was mirrored in the small smile he wore as he looked at his daughter. Still, the lines that creased his forehead suggested he was a bit distracted, and it was as if something weighed heavily on his shoulders.
She understood the feeling.
Arais followed soon after. Her shoes clicked against the stone steps, and her heart thrummed in her chest. Maker. Two new titles. Not only was she expected to command an undetermined number of Wardens, she was to rule an arling as well? At least she could say she had experience leading men and women into battle, but politics? She shuddered at the thought. Her only experience with politics had been a disastrous affair that had nearly gotten Alistair killed.
Oh. Alistair. She glanced across the room, at the door he had disappeared through, taking with him any assurance she would have of his safety. Perhaps now was the time to take Zevran up on his offer to find him. There was no Blight to threaten them any longer, and assuming Alistair had made it out of Ferelden, there was a good chance he was still alive, somewhere. What she would do if he were found, she wasn't sure, but maybe just taking the first step and actually finding him first was all that was important.
When Arais reached the bottom of the stairs, the pendant's weight settled just above her breasts. She glanced down, and lifted the pendant to examine it. She had found and sold enough gemstones during the Blight to identify those set within. Two garnets, encircled by elaborate wound gold, pointed the setting on either side, and two rubies were set in the same fashion to form a cross. A sapphire was set in the center of the cross, and pearls accented the empty space between the rubies and garnets. It really was lovely, if a bit overwhelming.
Isolde approached her, eyes wide and glazed with tears. "Arais, I . . . I can scarcely believe it. Will I truly be able to see Connor again?"
"As long as the Chantry complies with my request, you should be able to see him in a matter of weeks."
Isolde's resolve broke, and though she breathed deeply and closed her eyes against them, rogue tears slipped down her cheeks. "Oh, thank the Maker." A hesitant smile pulled at her lips, despite the tears. "There is so much he needs to be told, and that I will be able to tell him myself, and in person, means so much." She hugged Arais. "Thank you."
Arais said nothing, opting to simply let the arlessa weep into her shoulder. Moments passed before Teagan stepped up behind Isolde and placed a hand on her arm, a soft smile on his lips as he looked at Arais. The look in his eyes said more than words could of his gratitude, and she felt the wetness in her own eyes.
They were why she had asked for this, and it warmed her heart to know, for now, they were happy.
A huge thank you to Herebedragons66 for allowing me to use her head canon for the coronation and Calenhad's Cross. Both were featured in her story, Unshaken by the Darkness, which y'all should be reading.