Political Concerns and Bedtime Stories
The gentle sloshing of midnight blue waters heralded the boat's arrival. Aedan eased himself up from his seating position and carefully pulled himself up and out of the little boat and onto the jetty. It was a quiet and seemingly lonely place. There were only a couple of guards stationed in the boathouse who straightened sharply at Aedan's approach. The figures were clad in the familiar, heavy silverite armour of the Templar Order.
Another tall, heavily armoured figure strode down the steps that led up and out of the boathouse. A greying mane of hair adorned his grizzled features and a seemingly permanent scowl.
"Ah, if it isn't the Grey Warden." Knight-Commander Greagoir offered his hand in greeting below his stern look.
"Greagoir." Aedan nodded in reply as he took the Templar's hand. If the Knight-Commander wasn't going to stick to the formalities of greeting royalty, then Aedan certainly wasn't going to press the issue. "It's good to see you again."
Greagoir nodded stoutly. His wrinkles seemed to have deepened somewhat since last Aedan had seen the man. His ash grey hair had grown a little thinner as well. Yet there was certainly no doubt that the leader of Ferelden's Templar order was still in fine fighting condition. He held Aedan's hand with the strong grip of a seasoned warrior.
"Shall we?" Greagoir gestured further into the tower with a broad gesture of the hand.
Aedan nodded and fell into step beside the Knight-Commander as they marched up and into the tower before them: The Circle of Magi of Ferelden.
Though the Prince-Consort had visited the tower on various occasions since, he still found it hard not to think of the terrors and horrors that had greeted him on his first visit. He wondered how the occupants of the tower coped, having to live in this place day after day, knowing the grim things that had taken place within those walls.
"Is that him?" A quiet voice drifted against Aedan's ear.
"I think so, isn't he handsome!"
"I'll say, he can be my 'hero' any day."
Aedan turned a curious eye over towards the voices. He found a pair of young female mages huddled over by a bookshelf at the side of the corridor. They both opened their eyes wide, startled, before giggling and hurrying off through an adjacent door.
"Mages." Greagoir shook his head with a weary sigh. "They're worse gossipers than fishwives."
Aedan smiled a little. "Well, they can't have much else to do around her but read their books and chat to each other, surely?"
Greagoir huffed vaguely, giving no other indication as to an opinion.
They walked a little longer before another figure ambled out of a doorway ahead of them. This one was older and more wizened, his posture hunkered over and he leant heavily on his staff for support.
"Ah, Aedan Cousland." First Enchanter Irving seemed to smile through his thick, bristle like beard. "I suppose you're here to make sure we aren't tearing at each other's throats yet, hmm?"
"That- Not exactly, First Enchanter." Aedan blinked, disarmed somewhat by the mage's bluntness.
"Oh come now, why else would the Hero of Ferelden come to our little tower at a time like this?" Irving shook his head in disapproval. "Well, as you can see we haven't succumbed to our bestial bloodlust just yet, 'yet' being the operative word."
"Irving, this is not the place for that sort of discussion." Greagoir scowled at the mage before glancing around conspiratorially. "You of all people should know that the walls have ears here."
The First Enchanter rolled his eyes but didn't protest. "Very well, let's go somewhere a little more private then."
Aedan followed along as he was led further up the mage tower. The going was naturally slow as Irving hobbled along, though he doggedly refused any aid offered from Aedan. Even without having suffered through the trials of Uldred's mad plans, the First Enchanter was very much getting on in years, and far less mobile than the other men as a result. Greagoir was seemingly used to the mage's ways and didn't bother to offer. He was likely tired of hearing the mage's often pointed rejections.
Soon enough, the three of them reached the Knight-Commander's office. Entering the office, Aedan was struck by how sparse the room was. Much of the decoration came simply from the stone walls and arches that rose high into the ceiling. The architecture had likely stood for all the ages since the tower's construction. There was a desk to one side of the room, a bookshelf and sealed cabinet to the other, a couple of chairs around a table in the middle and a plain bed pushed up against the far wall. The overall aesthetic of the room was very simple and minimalist.
Both the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter appeared to take up a familiar routine: Irving creaked his way over into a plush chair with a weary sigh, Greagoir meanwhile paced over towards the cabinet at the side of the room where a small collection of fine cut bottles and glasses resided inside.
Aedan supressed a smirk as the ever stoic templar carefully poured a trio of glasses before bringing one each to the Prince-Consort and the First Enchanter. All of a sudden, the sternness from the templar seemed to die just a little.
"Now then, I suppose the Queen is concerned is she?" Greagoir began without preamble as he handed Aedan a glass. "I trust word has reached Denerim about events across the Waking Sea?"
"They have." Aedan nodded. "And yes, the Queen and I are both concerned about what has happened, and particularly how this … attack will impact on things here."
"As are we." Irving murmured. "Though as I've repeatedly assured the Knight-Commander here." The mage indicated the templar with his glass. "We mages are not on the brink of open rebellion, despite what some would have you believe."
"That is easy to say, First Enchanter." Greagoir began with a heavy frown. "But we all know that the Chantry will not stand idly by after this. A Chantry was destroyed by magic. A Grand Cleric and all her priestesses have been murdered. That is not an offense that can just be swept under the carpet."
"So we should all pay the price for one man's crimes should we?" Irving asked him pointedly.
"I didn't say that." Greagoir shook his head with a gruff sigh. "But there will be a retaliation of some sort. Any dissent from the mages will be stamped down upon more readily in future, it is inevitable. You know this as well as I, Irving."
Irving sighed. "Alas, I fear you are right."
"Has the Divine issued any directives yet?" Aedan asked Greagoir. "Any orders on how the Templars should respond?"
"Not a word, not from Most Holy, nor from the Seekers. Though I doubt it will stay that way for long." Greagoir swirled the brandy in his glass contemplatively. "For now, we carry on as we have."
"And when it comes?" Irving raised a pointed eyebrow. "Will you carry out the Right of Annulment on the spot or give us a few moments to prepare ourselves first."
Aedan wasn't completely sure whether Irving meant a few moments to prepare for the end, or to prepare to fight back.
"It won't come to that." Greagoir shook his head, seemingly convinced of the fact. "You mages are the Maker's children just as much as anyone else. The Divine knows this."
"I pray to the Maker you are right, Knight-Commander." Irving sighed.
"And how are the mages reacting to the news?" Aedan asked Irving. "There didn't seem to be an air of panic downstairs?"
"That's because most of them don't know yet." The First Enchanter grumbled. "Of the mages, only myself, and the rest of the senior faculty are aware of the news as we speak, but the word will get out soon enough. It always does."
"The same goes for the templars." Greagoir murmured. "Only myself, and my most senior knights are currently aware of this atrocity. We deemed it best to contain the knowledge for now, to prevent any harmful rumours from spreading before we know the full facts for ourselves."
"When the time is right, we will break the news to all the others." Irving assured the Prince-Consort, indicating himself and the Knight-Commander. "Better it comes from the both of us, rather than through the twists and turns of the grapevine."
Aedan nodded in approval. "And those that do know? How have they reacted to this?"
"How do you think?" Irving chuckled humourlessly. "We're all in a state of shock here. None of us expected anything like this, and from Anders of all people." Irving shook his head gravely. "He was always a stubborn sort, spent more of his time planning his failed escapes from the Circle than he spent concentrating on his studies. Yet he was always affable, even with the templars. I don't think any of us could have imagined that he was even capable of such destruction and brutality."
"I know, I'm … still coming to terms with it myself." Aedan murmured.
"Did he ever give you any indication of his plans, any hint at all?" Greagoir asked the Warden-Commander with a furrowed brow.
"No, nothing." Aedan sighed. "He vanished from our order many years ago now. To this day I have no idea exactly why he left. I've wracked my brains a million times over, trying to figure out just why he'd left, and why he'd do something like this now, but I'm at a complete loss."
Greagoir grumbled something beneath his breath. "Perhaps that just goes to show, the Circle is the best place for a mage, to keep an eye on them."
"Or, perhaps it is indicative of the lengths any man or woman will go to in order to escape their chains of bondage and obtain freedom for their people." Irving countered sharply.
"I trust that wasn't a declaration of approval of Anders' actions, First Enchanter?" Greagoir glared at the mage pointedly.
"Of course not!" Irving near spat. "Nothing justifies wanton murder and destruction, but you know just as well as I that this attack on Kirkwall is nothing more than a symptom, not the cause of all this strife. We mages and templars have been at each other's throats for generations, with ordinary people often getting caught in the middle. How much longer must it go on, I ask?"
The Knight-Commander was silent for a moment, swaying the brandy in his glass contemplatively. "I imagine that question may be answered soon, in one way or another. Change is coming to Thedas, whatever form it will take."
Irving sighed. "Yes, I fear you may be right."
"And what will that mean for you?" Aedan asked Greagoir directly.
"What do you mean?"
Aedan chewed on his lip a moment. "If the Divine were to order the Annulment, will you follow it?"
"It won't come to that." The look in Greagoir's eyes was resolute.
"Well, I for one pray to the Maker that your resolve won't need to be tested at all, Knight-Commander." Irving half quipped.
"The Right of Annulment is only to be used when a Circle is completely lost to us." Greagoir murmured with a dark look. "A last resort to be enacted when all other avenues are closed to us. Not as a punishment for one man's evil."
"I never doubted that for second, Knight-Commander." Aedan assured him.
The look in Greagoir's eyes was somewhat cynical, but he didn't comment further, instead he took a long draft of his brandy.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I believe that's enough doom and gloom for one day, don't you think?" Irving put to them both with a pointed look. He jostled his empty glass up at Greagoir. "Another, if you would be so kind."
Greagoir rolled his eyes slightly but duly took the glass to refill. "Here we are, discussing the disaster at Kirkwall and what effects it will have on all of us, and you, Irving, would rather just drink yourself into a stupor."
The old mage chuckled. "Put yourself in my shoes Greagoir. Wouldn't you do the same, were you a mage?"
The Knight-Commander returned the glass, freshly charged with brandy. "I suppose I can't argue with that." He gave a small, almost humoured smile.
Aedan swirled the remaining liquor in his own glass lightly as he quietly considered the two figures in front of him. It would have been so easy to see them both as long serving colleagues catching up during a break in their duties, or as old comrades remembering a long forgotten war together. The very idea that the two of them could potentially find themselves on opposing sides in a new war just seemed bizarre.
Perhaps that in and of itself was a good sign. After all, it was clear to see that both First Enchanter and Knight-Commander had worked tirelessly over the years to maintain some sort of peace between mages and templars, however fragile and grating that peace might be. Over that time and through all their trials these men, who should have been near mortal enemies, had forged a genuine respect for each other and even a friendship of sorts.
Aedan wondered how he and his wife would have fared in their shoes. He could just imagine Anora as a Knight-Commander of the Circle, exercising complete authority over her charges through the sheer force of her will alone. Where Aedan the First Enchanter, he somehow doubted that their working relationship would have been as fruitful as Irving and Greagoir's, at least not for a long, long time.
Were Anora actually the Knight-Commander to his First Enchanter, she would surely have had her mind on the Right of Annulment from the moment he first smiled at her.
Aedan couldn't help but smirk to himself at the thought.
xxx
Anora tapped the tail of her quill lightly against her lip as she considered the letters and reports splayed out before her. Each was pertaining to the attack on the city of Kirkwall, amassed from her ambassadors, diplomats and informants from across the Waking Sea. After the initial confirmation, more and more news had poured into Denerim's palace thick and fast. It was now spreading to the wider populace and it surely wouldn't be long before the whole country, and presumably all of Thedas, knew.
While Kirkwall was outside of her domain and her immediate concern, the fact that it had been a mage to strike against the Chantry in such a destructive fashion gave Anora worry. Mages lived in every nation and society throughout Thedas after all. The templars that guarded and watched them were in nearly as many, aside from Qunari held lands of course, and the arrangement between templar and mage in Tevinter was of an altogether different sort to the rest of Andrastian Thedas. An escalation in tensions between the two had potential ramifications for all.
At least the Circles of Magi were typically located in easy to contain areas, Anora supposed. Though she'd always known Kinloch Hold to be more of a prison than anything else, the isolated home of the mages ensured that if the latest escalation in tensions did result in the conflict spreading across the continent, then that fighting should be restricted to a small island in the middle of Lake Calenhad.
For a while at least.
There was a knock on her study door, interrupting her train of thought.
"Enter." The Queen commanded.
The door opened and in walked one of Anora's stewards. The man bowed before his liege.
"Your Majesty, you have a visitor from Orlais." The steward murmured.
Anora had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. What in Thedas did Celene want now? She wondered. "Is that so?"
"Yes your Grace, a lady calling herself 'Sister Nightingale'."
That gave Anora pause. The Queen set the quill she was holding down on the desk. "I see. Very well, see her in."
The steward bowed low once more and left the study. Anora's brow furrowed. She quickly gathered all the letters and reports she had piled upon her desk to study and put them away in a drawer of her desk.
"Your Grace, is something wrong?" Cauthrien asked in concern.
"I imagine so." Anora muttered. "Though I suppose we'll see for ourselves soon enough."
It wasn't long before the steward returned, this time with another figure in tow.
"Your Grace, may I present to you, Sister Nightingale." The steward bowed, indicating the woman at his side. The Sister was clad in a simple, thick travelling cloak that hid her attire most effectively.
"Your Majesty." The figure bowed her head respectfully, her Orlesian accent strong and lilting, but not altogether unpleasant. Sister Nightingale lowered her hood to reveal a bob of vivid red hair crowning her pretty features, features that were vaguely familiar.
The Queen nodded her thanks to the steward before ushering him out of the room with a wave of her hand. Only when the door closed once more did she regard her visitor again.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Divine's Left Hand?" Anora asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.
At her side, Anora could almost see Cauthrien's eyes widen a little.
The Sister smiled, a sly smile but one that did not seem to indicate threat. "Ah, I see my reputation precedes me."
"I daresay there isn't a king or queen in all of Thedas who doesn't know of the Divine's most trusted agents." Anora paced round to her side of the desk. "Tea?"
"I would love some, thank you, your Grace." The Sister smiled.
Anora poured them both some tea. Cauthrien kept her silent sentry to the side of the desk, ever poised to leap into action if the need arose. Though the Sister certainly didn't appear to be even remotely threatening from her demeanour, Anora knew better than that. If rumour were to be believed, she was sharing tea with one of the most skilled and deadly persons in all of Thedas.
"I trust her Holiness is well?" Anora asked calmly.
"Most well, thank you." Nightingale smiled cordially. "Divine Justinia sends her warmest regards, your Grace."
"And they are warmly received." Anora smiled. "Now, what can I do for an agent of the Divine?"
"Ah, straight to business?" The Sister smiled a little coyly.
"I doubt that one of the Divine's most trusted agents came to my door for a cup of tea and a quick chat."
Sister Nightingale smiled once more before glancing about for a moment, her gaze lingering on Ser Cauthrien for merely a second before returning to the Queen. "I was wondering, where is your lord husband? I confess I was hoping to speak to him as well, your Grace."
"My husband is not here." Anora said simply and didn't elaborate further, keeping her keen gaze fixed on the other woman. If the Sister wanted to converse with Aedan as well, that opened up a whole new world of potential topics and problems that the Chantry could be focussed on.
"That is a shame. I was hoping to speak with him personally." Nightingale's gaze fell slightly. "Aside from simply catching up with an old comrade, there is also a matter I have need to discuss with him."
Anora raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh? May I know of this 'matter'?"
The Sister regarded the Queen carefully for a long moment, then she took a deep breath. "Of course, your Grace. Firstly, I trust you know of the growing unrest that is threatening Thedas, yes? The attack on the Chantry in Kirkwall in particular has caused concerns that the mages will soon rebel against the templars."
Anora nodded slowly, her thoughts drifting back to the revelation that Aedan's own former warden Anders was central to the conflict in Kirkwall, a conflict that had surely set the fuse on conflicts throughout Thedas. "These are worrying times indeed."
"Indeed. Most Holy is eager to restore peace and order to Thedas."
Anora took a sip from her teacup. "Forgive me if I sound overly blunt, Sister, but that seems to be an increasingly tall order these days."
The Sister smiled thinly. "Not blunt at all, your Majesty. Her Holiness agrees with that sentiment in fact, though that does not dissuade us from our goal."
"And what do you want from my husband to help you in that task?" Anora could well imagine what the Sister, and by extension the Divine, wanted from her husband, but she wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth herself.
Nightingale regarded Anora with a long, measured look, then turned her appraising gaze to Cauthrien for a moment. The Knight merely stared back, impassive. The Sister seemed to nod to herself slightly before turning back to Anora.
"The Divine is growing increasingly concerned that the current rift cannot be healed by the mages and templars themselves. She fears that there is too much bad blood on both sides that prevents cool heads from seeing the need to negotiate a truce."
"A truce?" Anora eyed the Sister carefully. "You speak as if the mages are already at war with the templars."
Nightingale regarded Anora with a serious look. "If preventative measures are not taken now, then the Divine envisions that war will be the only possible outcome of the current crisis, a war that could stretch across all of Thedas."
"I see." The Queen breathed a small sigh. "Is the Chantry unable to intercede?"
Anora asked the question carefully, wary that she was speaking to the Divine's Left Hand, one of her two most trusted agents. Any word that even strayed close to heresy would surely be evidence enough for excommunication or worse. Though Anora also felt in her gut that this Nightingale was a woman of integrity, and not one to seek out heresies from nothing like some of the more zealous members of the Chantry were wont to do. After all, this Nightingale had served with Anora's husband during the Blight, and Aedan had proven time and time again his knack for choosing only the very best as his comrades in arms.
"The Chantry is emblematic of the old order, the status quo." Nightingale answered slowly. "The Divine knows this, just as those who defend it and those who rebel against that order know it. Given the current state of affairs, it is only becoming clearer to all that the old status quo is simply not satisfactory to all parties. There is a fear in the Chantry that there is a chance that more and more will decide that the old way is not satisfactory to anyone."
The Sister took a sip of tea, perhaps letting the weight of those words settle in through the pause.
"And yet, the Chantry is responsible for the good and welfare of both mages and templars, a task that cannot be fulfilled when each rages against the other. There are many of the mages who simply see the Chantry as the templars enablers, who lay the blame for their mistreatments solely at the Divine's door. Likewise, there are templars who believe that the Chantry is pandering to those with the magical power to wreak havoc on the world, and bring demons into our realm. Simply put, the Chantry cannot satisfy one without outraging the other."
"A predicament indeed." Anora murmured. "So, what is the Divine's solution?"
"A fourth party." Nightingale's features were crossed with a dark look for a moment. "One that could bring about the change needed for all."
"Indeed? And what would that change entail?"
"Whatever is needed to bring about peace." Nightingale murmured cryptically.
Anora regarded the Sister for a long moment. It was evident that she wasn't going to get any more detail from the Left Hand than that. Perhaps Sister Nightingale simply didn't know the details herself, or more likely that she wasn't willing to disclose any more than what she deemed strictly necessary for an outsider to the Divines plans to know, even if that outsider was a Queen.
"That seems to be a drastic measure." Anora murmured as she considered the Sister's words along with her motives. "The Chantry is not known for its willingness to abandon traditions for change, even in the name of peace. Nor is it known for relinquishing control to outside authorities."
"These are increasingly desperate times." Nightingale sighed before her sparkling blue eyes flicked back up to meet Anora's. "The Divine feels a storm is coming, your Grace, one we'd all do well to prepare for."
Anora narrowed her gaze at the Sister. She didn't read a threat into Nightingale's words. It was more of a warning. "It's difficult to prepare for a storm when you don't know what form it will take, or where it's coming from."
The Sister sighed once more. "Such is the trial the Maker has sent for us."
Anora hummed under her breath. "Still, none of that answers my question. What is it you want from my husband?"
"Your Grace, the Hero of Ferelden has proven his worth and valour to all the world. He can unite people of different creeds and backgrounds. He's proven that already in the war against the darkspawn. With his help, we can-"
"You want to take my husband to install as the head of your 'fourth party'." Anora cut through the Sister's preamble sharply.
The Sister held her tongue for a moment before nodding stoutly. "Simply put, yes."
"Absolutely not." Anora scowled. "My husband is not some tool you can just borrow and play with whenever you please."
"Your Grace, Divine Justinia-"
"I don't care if the Divine were to come to Denerim to beg me herself. The answer is no."
"Anora, thousands of lives are at stake!" The Sister pleaded, frustration colouring her desperation.
"I'm well aware of that, Nightingale." Anora spat back dangerously. "If they do rebel, do you think that the mages will restrict their revolt to Orlais' neat little borders alone?"
"This is so much larger than just one country, your Grace." Nightingale's look was dark. "I hate to ask this of you, but the situation is dire. My accent may place me as Orlesian, but I was born Ferelden you know, and it hurts me to see my homeland suffer in any way. I understand what the Hero is to Ferelden, what he means to the people. Please believe me your Grace, I would not come to your door with this request if the circumstances did not demand that we act, and act now!"
Anora leaned back in her seat slightly. She kept her gaze pinned on the Sister as the Sister stared back with pleading eyes. The Queen was satisfied that Nightingale was being sincere at least, and that she truly believed in this nebulous threat.
A soft knock at the door cut into the tension. "Anora?"
The Queen stiffened slightly. The voice of her husband was shortly followed by the door easing itself open to reveal Aedan walking through. His easy smile at the sight of his wife soon faded when he caught sight of the redheaded Chantry Sister sat opposite the Queen.
"Leliana." Aedan murmured, slightly wide eyed.
"Aedan." Sister Nightingale, Leliana, smiled. "It's been a while, no?"
"It has." Aedan agreed with a soft chuckle, barely more than breath really. "It's been what, I don't know, a few years or more, hasn't it?"
"Who's counting?" Leliana smirked a little before she stood and turned to greet her old comrade in arms with a warm hug. "It's so good to see you."
Aedan responded in kind. "It's good to see you too. I never thought I'd see you again."
"You didn't really think you'd be free of me forever, did you?" Leliana teased with an airy chuckle.
There was a part of Anora that grated at seeing the familiar contact between the pair, but she said nothing. She knew how Aedan still held his former companions close to his heart, even if they rarely crossed paths these days. What's more, she trusted her husband.
They soon parted, but when Aedan looked into Leliana's eyes however, his fond smile faded away.
"You want me to go with you." The Prince-Consort murmured. It wasn't a question.
Leliana sighed. "The Divine requests your help. I know what you have here." She glanced back at the Queen for a moment. "I know you have a family, but we could really use you, Aedan." The Sister's gaze had already fallen before she'd finished her plea however.
Aedan shook his head a little sadly. "I can't. My place is here, with my wife and child. I'm sorry, Leliana."
Leliana gazed into his eyes for a long few moments. "The Divine would kill me if I didn't put up more of a fight." She glanced back towards Anora with a hint of a smirk. "Not literally, of course." She turned back to Aedan. "But I can see in your eyes that it would just be a waste of words, no?"
"I'm afraid so." Aedan breathed a deep breath. "I'm sorry Leliana, but this is my place now."
It filled Anora with a warm pride to hear her husband say those words.
Leliana nodded slightly for a few moments. Then she leaned in to hug Aedan tightly again. "Whatever happens, whatever comes, stay safe my friend." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling back.
"You too, Leliana." Aedan smiled a little.
Then Leliana turned to Anora once more and bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you for your hospitality, your Grace, and I apologise for intruding."
"It's no bother." Anora murmured. "We are always glad to host an agent of the Divine-" She glanced at Aedan. "-and a friend."
Leliana raised her head with a smile. She looked back at Aedan for a moment, seemingly considering something. "I will let the Divine know that the fabled Hero of Ferelden cannot be reached. Rest assured, we will not come looking for him here again."
The Queen smiled back graciously. "Thank you, Leliana."
"What will you do then?" Aedan asked.
Leliana pulled her hood back up over her hair. "I will go join my associates in the Free Marches. Perhaps they've had better luck in searching for a legend there than I have here." She smiled once more, a cryptic look in her crystalline eyes. "May the Maker watch over you all."
"And may He watch over you, Sister." Anora intoned.
Then, with one last smile, Leliana turned and left.
xxx
Anora bit her lip, brow furrowed slightly as she walked the halls of her palace. The discussion with Sister Nightingale had troubled her. If the Chantry was worried about potential conflict brewing, then surely the threat was serious. The Divine rarely interceded when mere nations went to war with each other, except to make impotent calls for peace. To attempt to build a whole new organisation of sorts to do away with centuries of traditions and dogma was another matter entirely.
Despite her husband's words to Leliana, Anora had been a bit surprised that he'd refuse the Divine's agent as he had. From what Leliana had been describing, it was a role that was surely tailor made for Aedan: Leading an unlikely cause to victory against impossible odds, drawing people together who were far more likely to slit each other's throats than break bread. Of course Aedan would be first on the list of potential candidates for such a role.
If nothing else, Anora was sure that Aedan was surely tempted by the promise of another cause and crisis to contend with. Maker knows, going from leading a desperate war effort against the Blight to being a Prince-Consort – merely supporting a ruling monarch, not having any real power of his own to enjoy – was surely a jarring experience. Honestly, it was a wonder he wasn't bored out of his mind.
Although perhaps he really was, even though he professed his undying loyalty to his wife and Queen.
There was a part of the Queen that even wished to simply ask the Prince-Consort the question straight: Did he really want to go? Did he really want to go save the world once more? Yet there was another part of her however that feared what answer she might receive.
Anora cast those thoughts aside for now. It didn't do to rule her kingdom with such doubts in her mind.
She was walking back to her private chambers, heading for her bedroom to prepare for bed, when she heard slight murmuring from her daughter's bedroom. Intrigued, Anora padded up to the room, turning her ear to the door. She could hear the faint murmurs of her husband, though there something about his tone that varied and distorted unusually. She heard her daughter's giggle.
Anora carefully pressed down on the handle and eased the door open a crack, just enough to let the sound carry through clearly.
"And then, the Warden went to go find the wolves of the forest, to try and find a way to stop them from attacking the elves." Aedan was saying, his voice adopting a wondrous tone, one that could well have been used by a tribal storyteller.
Anora raised a finger to bite down on softly, as much to contain her growing grin as any noise.
"Though the elves had warned the Warden that the wolves were dangerous and wild, when he found them, he saw that the wolves didn't want to hurt the Warden, nor were they wild and dangerous. No, they only wanted to protect themselves and their home. When the Warden went to them and explained that he only wanted to help stop the fighting, the wolves of the forest took him to their home, a beautiful underground city that had once been built by the elves."
Eleanor let out a little 'wow' in an awed whisper.
Anora supressed a little chuckle. She idly remembered Aedan telling her a similar tale in the past, though it was distinctly less suitable for little Princesses.
"The Warden discovered that the wolves were led by a kind spirit, known as the Lady of the Forest." Aedan's voice then took on a darker tone, more serious tone. "But the Lady of the Forest explained to the Warden that the wolves were suffering from a terrible curse, one that the king of the elves had placed upon them."
Eleanor let out a little gasp and hugged the stuffed lion a little tighter.
Anora smiled. Hearing her husband weave a tale with such theatrical vigour was awfully endearing. Eleanor was hooked on his every word. She worried for a moment if Aedan should be telling their daughter of such things as werewolves and curses, but as she listened the Queen thought that he was doing a good enough job of keeping the story somewhat suitable for such a young audience.
Gradually, Anora realised that Eleanor's eyes were slipping shut, and soon enough she was breathing softly in a peaceful slumber. It was around the part of the story where the noble Grey Warden had returned to the elves to make a bargain to save both them and the wolves.
Aedan hadn't even noticed that his daughter was asleep and carried on telling his story with gusto for a minute or two more. He still wasn't even aware that his wife was the only one watching his performance through a crack in the door. Finally, he blinked in realisation and paused in his grand retelling, hands frozen mid re-enacting the great battle against the fallen elf king. With a sigh and a smile, he leaned over to tuck Eleanor in properly – with Ser Lion clutched in her arms of course – before pressing a soft kiss to the slumbering Princess' forehead.
Anora chose that moment to push the door open fully and padded inside. She didn't even bother to hide her grin.
Aedan looked up, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, there was the expression of one caught in the act on the Prince-Consort's face. His cheeks flushed before he put a finger to his lips and ushered his wife outside again.
"I don't remember you ever telling me that version of the story." Anora teased quietly when they were safely out of Eleanor's earshot.
"Well, she was begging me for a warden story, you know how she is." Aedan's cheeks flushed as he rubbed the back of his neck in that endearingly awkward way of his. "I had to think on my feet a little."
Anora chuckled as she gazed up at him. Maker, her husband was so handsome. She knew it every day, but seeing the tough, battle-scarred warden be so gentle and tender with their daughter was enough to make her fall in love all over again. She didn't know where she would be without him. She busied herself straitening his collar a little and brushing some imaginary dust off of his broad shoulders.
"Aedan, what happened with Leliana earlier …"
"What is it?"
"Are you certain you want to stay?" Anora was almost reluctant to look up into his eyes. "If the Divine is requesting your help, you and I both know the situation must be … ominous."
"Anora …" Aedan whispered as he drew her into a tight hug. "I'm not going anywhere. My place is here by your side. I've done my part for Thedas after all. Let someone else play the hero this time."
Anor let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding onto. She melted into his embrace happily. "Thank you."
"Besides, Fergus' wedding is coming up soon, I couldn't possibly miss that, and Eleanor would be upset with me if I wasn't here to finish the story another time." Aedan jerked his head softly in the Princess' direction with a chuckle.
Anora chuckled in kind. "Well, I haven't heard the end of that particular tale either, you know." Anora leant up to press a warm kiss to his jaw. "Tell me, does the brave Warden get the Queen in the end?"
"Of course." Aedan chuckled. He leaned in close to whisper softly in her ear. "The Warden falls deeply in love with a most gorgeous Queen, fairest of all the kingdoms. They have a beautiful daughter together, and live happily ever after."
In spite of herself, Anora trilled with a silly smile. "I like the sound of that ending." She murmured, just before he claimed her lips in a sweet kiss.