Previously: Anora
Fergus Cousland numbly walked the palace gardens. It was a chilly spring evening, and already getting dark. Behind him, he could hear servants lighting torches. In a distant courtyard, he could hear guards practicing their drills.
In his youth, he'd longed for this. He imagined that some day he'd be a very important man at the Royal Palace. He'd have a dutiful wife at home in the country, and a beautiful young mistress by his side at court.
But then fate handed him a wife he grew to love and respect, and a child he treasured more than his own life. And just easily as fate gifted him these people, it ripped them both away. Now he was without his wife, his son, and his youth, standing alone in the royal gardens.
The Maker doesn't give with both hands, Fergus soberly reminded himself.
Darkness fell as two moons rose in the heavens, bathing the land in ghostly light. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the cold air. It stilled him, calmed him, and kept him from screaming.
"The things we do to keep from going mad."
Fergus's eyes flew open. He turned around to see a slender blond woman with pale skin and blue eyes. She was clearly noble, dressed in the Fereldan fashion, but other than that, he had no idea who she was.
"I'm sorry?" he asked.
She chuckled softly. Her voice was low, and slightly husky. "You wouldn't believe how many times I used to come out here in the dead of winter. I had to order the servants not to follow me, on pain of death."
Fergus blinked, not sure where this was going. "Forgive me, Lady...?"
"Anora," she introduced herself, eyes twinkling.
His eyes widened and he started to bow, but immediately stopped himself. She grinned at him.
"That's right," she mused. "I am Queen no more. I'm not even a lady, according to His Majesty's latest royal decree. I am merely Anora of Gwaren, and nothing more." She took a few steps toward him. "But you, my Lord Fergus, are Teyrn of Highever." She bowed exquisitely. "Your Grace."
Fergus's breath caught in his chest. He'd heard bards sing of her beauty. He had dreamed of this moment for years, and now that he was here, he had no idea what to say.
"Lady Anora --"
"Please," she said, slightly raising a hand. "Just Anora."
"Anora," Fergus began again, noting how her name felt wrong in his mouth. "I had heard the King decided to release you, but I didn't think he'd actually do it."
"Nor did I," she admitted. "Though, 'released' is a rather broad term, my lord. I cannot leave the palace grounds. I am to be followed no matter where I go. I do not have a retinue, and I have to make do with living in a single room."
Fergus looked over her shoulder, and sure enough, two arm guards stood not far away.
"Walk with me, my lord," she invited him, whimsically linking her arm with his. "I'll give you a tour of all the places where I used to scream and tear out my hair."
***
Margeria was sitting down by the fire in her bedchamber, attempting to embroider to soothe her nerves. Settling in to Fereldan royal life was proving even more difficult than she anticipated. There was tension between the soon-to-be royal couple. It was subtle for now, but left unresolved it would trigger gossip at court.
And then there was the matter of her nephew and niece. Fergus seemed to be avoiding her while Elissa was sending an elf to establish Margeria's household.
Normally, she found elves sullen and tight-lipped. Behind their silence, their eyes smoldered with rage. Unlike her fellow nobles, Margeria normally employed human servants. She felt human servants were slightly less likely than elves to slit her throat in her sleep.
And yet... this handmaiden seemed different. She was calm and perfectly poised. She was beautiful, with dark brown skin and jet black hair. Her hair was braided and adorned with gold. Such was her comportment that Margeria hadn't known for a fact she was a servant, she would have mistaken her for a princess.
"What is your name?" Margeria asked. She spoke without looking up. She hadn't embroidered in a long while and struggled to remember some of the basics.
"Kallian, my lady," the elf replied. Her voice was soft and low. Like her eyes, her voice betrayed nothing.
"You are from the Alienage, I presume?"
"Yes, my lady."
"And how long have you worked at the palace?" Margeria inquired.
"Just over a year, my lady."
"My niece says you have been indispensable, and now she offers you to me." The older woman snorted. "How generous of her."
"The Arlessa has authorized me to assign whatever maids and pages you require for your household," Kallian told her.
"Can you organize a private gathering for me?"
"Of course, my lady."
"Excellent," Margeria said, still not looking up. "Find my nephew and kindly remind him that I have been at court for three days now, yet he has not come to see me. I want us to have dinner, preferably as soon as possible. Even my niece says he's been unavailable of late."
"Certainly, my lady," Kallian said, nodding. "He's been meeting with Lady Anora for tea in the gardens."
Margeria's fingers stilled on her needle. She finally looked at the elf. "He's been what?"
***
Arlessa Isolde was well aware this wasn't her family, and didn't want to get too involved in their dynamics. But the fact remained that her family had sacrificed much so the Couslands and the last Theirin could ascend. She had to make her concerns known.
"Not to offend, my lady," she said, pouring herself some wine at the refreshments table, "but what is your brother thinking?" She returned to her seat by the fire where Elissa sat, her war hound snoring softly at her feet.
The future Queen opened her mouth to speak, but her aunt beat her to it.
"He's thinking with his smaller head," Margeria snapped. She was standing in the middle of the room, fuming. "As so many of these useless men do."
"But surely, he would not dare," the Orlesian insisted, her accent light and raspy. "Anora has no title, no rank, no lands or coin. She is all but a prisoner in this palace. Is she even allowed to marry?"
Elissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She tried to remind herself that Alistair was a good man, a kind man with a strong sense of fairness.
But she also remembered he was painfully naive.
"She's still young," Elissa sighed. "And pretty. And some of the nobles still like her. My brother has to think about his future, and our family's legacy. Highever needs heirs, and knowing Fergus, he doesn't want to breed with just anyone."
Margeria looked like she was about to vomit. "Her father supported the traitor who killed my sister, and now Fergus seeks to mix our blood with theirs? Mierda!" She glared at Elissa. "You must forbid this union. As bride to a King, you outrank him. You can threaten him with exile if he continues to pursue this nonsense!"
Isolde nodded in agreement. "The fact Anora even breathes is problem enough. There are many who still believe she should be Queen. She knows that it is nearly impossible for two Grey Wardens to produce children, and she's counting on your infertility."
"I know," Elissa said, nodding. "If she gives my brother a son, everyone will assume the boy will be our next king, and she could rule through that king." She paused, smiling ruefully. "Not everybody cares about Theirin blood as much as Eamon."
"Then we must find someone better suited," Margeria declared. "Out of all these noblewomen in Ferelden and Orlais --"
"It's not just about nobility," Isolde said, shaking her head. "Fergus clearly does not care about titles. His late wife had no title, but she was wealthy. Anora has no titles, but she has political currency. We need a woman that he would find more politically desirable than her."
Margeria eyed her warily. "Do we know anyone like that?"
Elissa's eyes widened as realization slowly dawned. "As a matter of fact I do," she said. "She lives right here in Denerim." She turned to Isolde. "And she will require all of your talents."
***
Things had been strained between Alistair and Elissa for days. They still shared their meals and discussed the Blight and other important matters, but he could tell things were different between them. She was even more standoffish than usual, as though she couldn't trust him anymore.
It cut deeply to think that Elissa lost faith in him, but he couldn't back down, not on this. He didn't agree to become King simply to do her or Eamon's bidding. He had his own vision for Ferelden, and he wanted them to respect that.
Besides, if I let her make all the decisions, we'll run out of spikes, Alistair cringed.
Thankfully, she seemed to be in a happier mood. They were back at court, sitting on their thrones, waiting to deal with the business of the day. She didn't say anything, but he could detect a definite shift in her mood.
"Arlessa Isolde of Redcliffe."
Alistair's head snapped towards the double doors, confused. As a member of his inner circle, Isolde had direct access to him. She didn't need to make an appointment in open court.
The doors opened and the blond Orlesian entered, accompanied by a familiar face. Alistair stared, speechless, refusing to believe his own eyes.
Isolde smiled brightly as she approached the dais and bowed. "Your Majesty, may I introduce --"
"Goldanna," the King murmured, dazed. "You don't have to introduce my own sister to me."
The nobles assembled began whispering feverishly. Fergus, who stood to the right of Alistair, looked stunned.
And sitting next to Alistair, Elissa smirked.
To be fair, Goldanna was a fairly decent beauty... once Isolde bathed and braided her, and put her in some clean clothes. The dress wasn't particularly fancy, and was just barely good enough for court. But Goldanna had no status... until now.
"Hello, sister," Alistair greeted softly, carefully masking his tension.
The laundress shifted from one foot to another. "Hello, brother."
Isolde gently cleared her throat.
"Your Majesty," Goldanna grumbled, before bowing awkwardly.
"What brings you to the Royal Palace?" the King asked, sounding rather blunt.
"Your betrothed summoned me," his sister replied. Alistair looked at Elissa, who simply smiled.
"It pleases me greatly to see you here," Elissa said, grinning. "As you know, your brother and I are to wed, and I would like to formally invite you to be one of my bridesmaids."
Both siblings' eyes widened, looking at each other, then Elissa, then back at each other.
"Of course, my lady," Goldanna gasped. Alistair squirmed on his throne.
"Very well, then," he said, fighting the bile in his throat. "Goldanna of Denerim, I hereby welcome you to court."
