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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.

Chapter List
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When Erlina escorted me to a private meeting, it never failed to make me a little sick from memories of how we protected the queen at the cost of our freedom. Memories of my 'questioning' in the Fort Drakon dungeon still occasionally played a counterpoint of agony to my Darkspawn nightmares.
Aside from rubbing suddenly sweaty palms against my fine dress, I hoped I presented a calm exterior as I crossed into the study. My hosts were the Queen's siblings by marriage, so even if they were not of the bluest blood, their blood was getting slowly bluer every year.
That didn't mean I could trust them; Father had trusted Howe.
I entered the study, itself an explosion of peacocks in all their glory: fresco images painted in all the bright blues, indigos, and almost iridescent greens, so lifelike that you almost forgot they were larger than life-size. The other surfaces from curtains to painted panels had more abstract depictions of eyes and feathers inlaid in precious metal and stitched in silks and fabrics that rippled and shifted.
In contrast with paired lapis lazuli statuettes, Queen Anora wore an almost muted rusty orange informal gown. She sat calmly on a fine chair that wasn't quite impressive enough to be a throne. “Amaranthine...”
I curtseyed deeply and held it. Childhood lessons from my mother were still fresh enough.
The bitch made me hold it until even my battle-hardened muscles were starting to scream, before she gestured that I could rise. I'd carefully blanked my thoughts, as this would be a petty reason to make Anora irate if she wasn't already.
I stood up, trying to do it smoothly.
“Amaranthine, it has come to Our attention that the Bannorn has noticed your lack of an heir. I'm sure the Warden-Commander is well aware of how the issues of rulership and inheritance are properly the interest of the Landsmeet and crown.” Anora paused for an objection she didn't hear. “We expect the Arlessa to attend to this properly during the course of this Landsmeet. We would be pleased to attend the wedding, but We suppose an heir of the blood on its way will be sufficient as well.”
I felt dizzy with an ache near my ears as I couldn't breathe. My voice felt thin as I spoke and I was having trouble with the proper words. “Why after all these years? I could name another as heir.”
She looked irritated as well. “We do not wish Highever to influence this out from under our overview. Ferelden is better served with independent lords, allied to each other at times but not subordinate.” Her eyes narrowed, “With events across Thedas being what they are, Weisshaupt has less scope to interfere if the heir is of your body. The First Warden has assured me that he is pleased with Amaranthine's productivity.”
The secret would not serve us now and was one of my few cards to play. “One problem is that Wardens are infertile. There is little purpose in planning for children, Your Majesty. That Warden secret is why removing us from inheritances makes little difference.”
Anora was closer to angry now, her lighter coloring very cold. “Actually, that rule indicates as much the opposite of that. If it was impossible, then the rule would be unnecessary. On your oaths, Cousland, can you say that the taint makes all women infertile? Are there not babes sired by Gray Wardens as well?”
Those questions were like being slapped, as broodmothers and Morrigan's baby made that less than a simple answer.
Before I could lie to her, she swept forward, ignoring my pause. “You will marry, and pray that the Maker will bless you. You will need these years to raise your heir before your Calling as well. Gray Warden nobles must serve like any other lines outside those Gray Warden responsibilities. You have until the end of Landsmeet, Arlessa. Ferelden needs stability and peace and that I will enforce.”
I wanted to shout and rant at Anora, the ingrate. We bled and gave up pieces of our souls to save Ferelden. Wasn't it enough she got the throne that she wanted so much? Alistair had the stronger claim and the main reason I couldn't marry him before now was that I'd supported her for the crown instead of my reluctant Alistair.
We both had much bluer blood than her and I wanted to smack her for the manipulative bitch she was.
Anora sat there coolly looking at me as I trembled with my desire to backhand her. The bright indigos of the peacocks dulled from my rage.
Her smile got mockingly cruel as she gestured for me to leave. “Just do as Arl Eamon told me a few years ago after the Blight, close your eyes and think of Ferelden.”
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A/N: Challenge words used in this chapter are ingrate, irate, and indigo. 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