DAUGHTER OF THE LAND.

❛    i    i’m sorry,  what?    ❜    she lets out a laugh at that,  albeit a quiet,  nervous one.    ❛    we can’t do that,  can we?    ❜    she tries not to show how nervous she actually was,  how anxiety-inducing it all was                        anora must’ve noticed,  much to her embarrassment    (    what they’d think of her then,  if they saw what a mess their  …  hero actually was ?    ).    & for a second,  she even considers accepting.    ❛    i mean    surely people would notice if i were…  not me?  would that even work?    ❜

    The constantly moving sea of colour is unbearable to look at.   The celebrations have been ongoing for well over a week,  and have culminated in this very night;  an official ball,  to celebrate the defeat of the archdemon and the traitor.   The music,  the drunken revelers,  the silks that drag behind every noble lady in the room  ---  it’s all too loud,  too bright,  too happy.   After an hour of making sure to be seen, the newly-crowned queen of Ferelden had found a suitable corner to sulk in,  alone,  nursing a half-empty glass and a headache.

     It wasn’t long before she was joined by the evening’s guest of honor.   It seemed that he had been of a similar mind.   She had offered him a wry smile,  and produced a bottle of the good stuff from the depths of her skirts.   They started watering everything down after the first dance,  she told him,  and when they polished that bottle off she called for another.   There had been awkward small talk first,  then an abundance of giggles,  followed by a profound silence.   That was when the conversation turned to the darkspawn,  her father,  and the destruction both had caused.

    Her father.   She had wanted to wear black,  to make some small attempt to mourn him,  but was denied.   Such a statement was most unwise,  they said  ( the cryptic they, a single entity and now the chief influence of her decisions ),  when the wounds were still fresh.   She tells Cian this,  taking care to accurately convey the tone with as much mockery in her voice as she can muster.   In turn,  he spins one of his own tales,  and they go back and forth like this for a while longer.   Life has been tough, huh?,  he says with a sigh,  and she drunkenly nods in agreement.   It has, hasn’t it?   In her twenty-five years,  two kings and a queen have died,  a blight has begun and ended,  she has lost both her parents and her husband,  and now she has to bring order to a kingdom that lies in ruin all on her own.  Life is tough,  she decides,  but I surely have had it easier than most.