A.N: As I come to the end of my first attempt at creative writing (Dragon Age or otherwise), I wanted to pay tribute to the creative genius behind it all, David Gaider. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery. Most of this was taken directly from the epilogue in his book, The Stolen Throne, and I just tweaked it slightly to fit here. If you haven't read it yet, you really should. It's well worth it.


"But did they win?"

Revered Mother Perpetua smiled with amusement at young Kellin as he squirmed in excitement in his chair. For a twelve-year-old lad, he had listened rather intently to the tale, she thought. He was always fascinated with such tales, and loved the ones that involved his father the best. And why not? He wasn't the only boy in Ferelden who idolized King Alistair, after all.

She smoothed Kellin's dark blond hair absently with a weathered hand and nodded. "Yes, they did win." She chuckled as the boy clapped his hands in delight. "As you must have guessed. If they hadn't, would you be living here in the palace today, young man?"

He grinned. "Probably not."

"Probably not," she agreed. "Chancellor Eamon was the one who convinced the nobles of that Landsmeet to accept the fact that your father was serious about marrying your mother and that he would do exactly what he said he would if they didn't allow that to happen. Of course, there were conditions that had to be worked out because the chancellor knew that the nobles would never accept your mother as queen. We were just lucky to have a persuasive man to take your father's part during those negotiations. It would have been a very bad thing for Ferelden, indeed, if your father had followed through on his promise to take you and your mother and leave the country."

Kellin flipped through the book on his lap, a fine book filled with delicate paintings that had been presented to the young prince as a gift by the Orlesian ambassador. Naturally, young Kellin loved the pictures of the Grey Wardens and the battles in the book, especially the one where his mother was fighting the Archdemon. Mother Perpetua watched him for a time, reaching out and brushing the hair aside again. There was little other sound in the library other than the rushing fall winds outside the window. She would have to remember to tell him about the events that happened after that Landsmeet someday, when he was older and better able to understand.

"What are you thinking now, dear boy?" she asked him finally.

He looked up at her, his large eyes somber. "Do you think it bothers my mother that she is not queen?"

Ah. She took a deep breath. "I think not at all, child." She smiled gently at him. "I think the most important thing to her is that she has both you and your father, as the two of you are who make her happy. Even though your mother is not considered royalty, such as the king and yourself, I don't think it matters to her one whit. I honestly believe she never had any desire to be queen."

Kellin closed the book, admiring the detailed embossment on the leather covers, and then he looked up at her quizzically. "Am I going to be the king someday, Mother Perpetua?"

"When you father passes, yes. Let us pray it is not soon."

"Will I be as good a king as my father?"

She chuckled at that. "You are a Theirin, my dear boy. You've the blood of not only Calenhad the Great in you but also Moira the Rebel Queen, Maric the Savior, and Alistair the Just; and your mother is the Hero of Ferelden. There is nothing you cannot do if you put your mind to it."

The boy rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "That's what Father always says. I don't think I'll ever be as good a king as he is."

So much like his father, indeed. Perpetua tousled his hair fondly and rose from her chair. "Come, young man. Walk with your old tutor, and let us find your father in the gardens. You can tell him yourself what a fine listener you were today."

Kellin leaped from his seat, grinning. "Do you think he'll tell me another story? I want to hear about the battle with the High Dragon!"

"I think there is time for more stories later. But not today."

The young prince had to be satisfied with that, so he excitedly raced down the palace hall and was gone in an instant. Shaking her head in amusement, Mother Perpetua picked up her cane and slowly began chasing after him.


A.N.: Well, we have come to the end of the story of how Elandria and Alistair were finally reunited. Thanks again to Melismo for all her wonderful help with story issues and the beta reading. Thanks also go out one last time to everyone who read," favorited," alerted, and reviewed. You are the ones that keep me writing and struggling to improve.