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Griffin's Walk	By : Anesor Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2489 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this fiction.

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The shadows of Fort Drakon and her city walls made deep, jagged lines over the roofs of the buildings tucked in below them as dawn broke over the horizon. At this time of day, it was too easy for her to remember the wreckage the Archdemon had left of the capital of Ferelden a decade ago.
Now, she didn't spend all her waking hours, and too many hours only half-awake, calling for help from the less affected in the Bannorn, rebuilding, and hoping the darkspawn problems in Amaranthine would fade away. Denerim was rebuilt, if not as well as she would have liked. Amaranthine was rebuilt on its own ashes.
That time had passed and the land she had inherited from both her husband's youth and her father's error, prospered. She proved that she was still the queen she'd been before the Blight. She'd to take a consort, though. An heir was proof she was looking to the future and not obsessed with old hatreds like her father had been.
It was almost too bad she could not have consolidated the throne with marrying the fool, as little as she would have liked dealing with him on a daily basis. At least he was a warrior who did listen to counsel, so they might have done well.
He and the Arlessa had not married and raised any children. They seemed to have their own troubles with Grey Warden politics, which kept them away much of the time. When home, they were assets, keeping the other Wardens in Ferelden within Warden duties, even any Orlesian ones. They had proven their loyalty to the land, and as queen, she could not take that for granted, not with the allegiances of most Wardens sent to 'help' in Amaranthine.
Her father would have risen from his ashes if she had allowed that.
They had behaved, and the Arlessa had done her proper duties at the royal wedding and even the birth of the heirs. The Couslands had always been loyal vassals.
But that made for the next concern. Branches of noble lines weren't a problem. Younger children who proved themselves were often good title candidates for lines that had died out. The important thing was to make sure that the senior line did not make a puppet of the cadet branch. Nor did she want for Highever to assume Amaranthine as well.
Landsmeet was swiftly approaching and she needed to have a plan for this in place before the assembly began.
Little feet pounded into her study, as Cal and Etta ran in only a little ahead of Roshan. Erlina brought Cal's jacket a few steps behind.
Naming her eldest after her first husband seemed a wise move at the time, though she sometimes feared that he would grow as foolish. Erlina and other parents said this was common, especially for boys.
“Good morning, dears. Did the Maker send you lovely dreams last night?” Anora had to resist laughing as Erlina caught up with Cal and put his jacket on him.
“I rode a puppy! Taller than Papa!” Etta crowed.
Cal frowned. “I don't have to go into the Fade, do I? I'm a prince.”
She wasn't sure if that was fear. “No, sometimes it is much more restful not to dream.”
Roshan picked up Etta and set her up on his shoulder. “Were you this tall, love?”
Etta was happier than Cal was, but they moved to their private parlor for breakfast. After they'd eaten, the children were taken away by nurses and tutors, leaving her competent handmaiden as their only company.
“Is there something I should know before Landsmeet, my lady?” Roshan Sighard was better at being serious and not gathering power in his own right.
Those had been the most important qualities she'd sought in a consort.
“Nothing is new this year among the Banns and nobles. They argue precedence and attempt to gain vacant lands still under crown control. Rounds of plotting are only overshadowed by one thing: the larger problem of the Templars and Circles and their war. I do not want that war to swallow Ferelden, too.”
“Has there been any reported problems at Kinloch?” Roshan was a good audience with his scholar's ear.
“No, but there has been a slight paring of Templars at the Chantry here in Denerim as well as noted by Our steward at Gwaren. Despite events at Kirkwall, our Circle has not gone over into rebellion.” That was her first worry, but the deals made during the Blight seemed to be holding.
“What news have you had about that small army found west of Calenhad last autumn? There was magic involved, right?”
“That was not my army and should not have been within my borders. Foreign forces do not have Our permission to mount expeditions here.”
Roshan looked curious. “If they had asked?”
“Maybe, but it is my decision not any outsider's.”
He plainly wanted to ask.
Anora shook her head; she hadn't decided. “No, I wish to stay neutral. We suffered enough ruin from the Blight and don't need this war. Let them waste themselves on the Maker's business.”
“But who do you lean towards, my lady?” Roshan was cautious. His older brother, now Bann Sighard, had been rescued by mages during the Blight.
Both sides of this war were dangerous to those in their way. But the Templar Knight Commander had assumed the coronet of Kirkwall in all but law. That was a bad precedent. The mages had not usurped that power, even with the Champion for a figurehead. Her intelligencers said that a new Viscount should be elected by summer, which would make her more comfortable with such a near neighbor.
“I will decide, when one side or the other becomes a threat to Ferelden.”
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A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
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Griffin's Walk