My Warden (COMPLETED)

Memory - Branding

9:33 Denerim

Denerim hadn't been this fancied up since the last time someone convinced him they needed to have a party or there'd be revolts in the gilded bath houses. Banners of silver and blue decorated the path along the main road; with miniature flags jammed into every windowsill, flower pot, and unclaimed bread roll. He hadn't meant for it to go so overboard, but Alistair wasn't a party planning type and mentioning the idea to Isolde led to a flurry of activity that he ran scared from. He had bigger problems anyway.

"Why am I here?" she asked. Despite the invitation stressing so fancy you'll probably be buried in it attire, Lanny wadded the suggestion up, set it on fire, spat on the ashes, and wore her usual robes. They were clean this time, not even a speck of blood along the sleeves. Either she took the chance to launder them before attending, or the crown's attempts to clear up the roads were working.

"Because this is a party in your honor," Alistair answered. He should have been enjoying the rare moment of her in his arms swaying to the frilly music Isolde chose, even if it was with enough distance between them to let a boat through, but Alistair had other matters on his mind. His eyes kept hunting around the edges of velvet and silk ringing the dance floor searching for the signal. The rest of the dancers were polite enough to move out of the way of the distracted king lest he trample over them. More than a few skirt hems trailed off his boots.

"Why is there a party in my honor?" Lanny tried again. She was growing her hair out, already it was past her shoulders and expanding like a dandelion about to seed.

"Because people like to party," Alistair countered with. They were here, he knew it. When the Dark Wolf approached him he thought it was a joke. He remembered Lanny's little forays into larceny as a small joke against the gentry, though she was nimbler with her fingers than he'd have thought. Okay, maybe not as surprising, in retrospect. But the clearly elf-sized man in full armor interrupting his breakfast was not Lanny baring her underworld title. When the Dark Wolf revealed a list of names, Alistair stopped joking about tossing the man to the vengeful granddaughters.

"And we are back to the crux of the argument," Lanny continued. She folded her arms above her head to follow with some dance pattern even Alistair barely knew as the rest of the floor stumbled to mimic. They were quite the pair, like a bird trying to teach a rock how to swim. Neither cared about the steps for the dances, but they both had to fake it. "Why am I here? You could have hosted this for any other reason beyond we have a Hero. I hear cherry blossoms are popular. People would've drank in their honor."

"It's late fall," he turned to her fully now, breaking from his hunt for the conspirators moving through the crowd. Even with her lips pursed in annoyance, her eyes rolling upward at an impressive rate, and a swipe of accidental candle ash for rouge she was the most breathtaking woman in the room.

Lanny shrugged, "All the more reason to toast to them. Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Maker was that true. He hadn't seen her since she'd begun her work as the Warden Commander. Even then, she'd been less than ecstatic to have him "stop by" and "check up on her" one time. They'd written, especially after the fall of Amaranthine, after months her letters slipping away from the cold distance of politics into her warm cadence as she informed him of her days struggling with things only Alistair would understand. The Arlessa visited Denerim to request aid, but this was the first sighting of Lanny he'd had in over a year and a half. It was good to have her back, and Andraste take pity on anyone who thought to take her away.

"Planning new holidays for Ferelden? I could give you my calendar to spice up," Alistair smiled, his eyes back to digging through the crowd.

"No thank you, I have my own mess to..." Lanny's words faded away and she whipped her head around. "Is that Zevran? By flames, it is. Zevran!" She shouted, waving to the elf who was supposed to be working through the crowds anonymously.