When I Look at You (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Manipulated

The next morning, she woke in Alistair's arms, stretching contentedly between the soft sheets. He was still asleep, snoring lightly, after several nightmares had awakened them both in the night. Una had had a hard time going back to sleep after the last one, and the first rays of the sun through the windows meant there was no further point in trying.

She gently disentangled herself from Alistair's arms. He groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillows, but showed no further signs of awakening.

Una dressed quietly, glad to see that her armor had made it to her room. Zev, no doubt. Bless his heart. She wondered where the others were. Una was no stranger to large houses—her own family compound in Denerim was sizeable, as well—but she hardly wanted to go stomping around Eamon's home in the early morning. At least, not if she could help it. And it was never a wise idea to knock on random doors. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of what she might find. She didn't think Zev and Leliana had trusted each other to the point of sharing a room yet ... but she certainly hoped so.

Her growling stomach directed her toward the kitchens instead, and she found Wynne already there, spreading butter on a slice of toast.

"Ah, there you are," the mage said with a smile. "We were glad you made it in last night."

"Yes, and just in time, too."

"I heard the Teyrn's voice. It carries."

"Then you heard who he had with him, I imagine."

"Yes. I have never met Rendon Howe, only read about him in history books of the rebellion. He is not what I would have expected."

"He wasn't what my parents expected, either, even after a lifetime of friendship," Una said bitterly. She stared at the food with revulsion, despite her hunger.

"You handled yourself very well. I imagine your parents would have been proud."

"My father would have. My mother would have wanted me to run him through and think about the consequences later."

"Your chance will come."

"Will it? I can hardly expect the nobles to put Alistair on the throne if I go around murdering them first."

Wynne looked up at her. "It's only one noble, and my suspicion, based on his attitude and Loghain's, is that most of the nobles would be relieved to see him gone. If only," she added with an ironic smile, "to free up all those titles again. Teyrn of Highever, Arl of Amaranthine, Arl of Denerim? Too many for one man, and the nobles will think so, too."

"Good point." Una reached for a slice of bread, her hunger restored.

She was almost full when Alistair burst into the kitchen. "Oh, there you are." His attention was caught by the table full of food in front of her. "Is that cheese?"

"Oh, you wouldn't like it," Una assured him. "It doesn't smell and isn't runny and disgusting."

"Hey!" He frowned in disappointment. "No time to eat it, anyway. Arl Eamon sent me to find you—we have a situation."

"What situation is that?" Una popped the last bite of hard, sharp cheddar into her mouth as she followed him from the kitchen.

"You'll see." It wasn't a tease—the tension in his tone told her as much. Whatever the problem was, Alistair didn't want to talk about it.

As Una entered Eamon's office, she saw him in the midst of a heated discussion with a dark-haired elf. She paused in the doorway, frowning. Eamon was nice enough, she supposed, but she had never known any noble, however nice, to deign to argue with an elf, outside of her own family. "Arl Eamon?" she asked eventually, when it became clear that neither of them had noticed she was there.