The pomp and circumstance finally over and done with, Anora stepped into her rooms and let the door fall closed behind her, leaning against the solid wood with a sigh. One duty over with. But another was yet to come, and she found herself dreading it more than the first. At least she'd only be expected to sit through the one wedding ceremony. Alistair would most likely be visiting her every night, at least until an heir was safely conceived.

By the time he arrived, she'd removed her wedding finery and changed into a simple dressing gown, her hair pulled into a simple long braid. Before departing, Erlina offered her a glass of wine; she'd declined, but now she regretted that decision. She rose from her chair, and he paused in the doorway that connected their separate suites. He wore a heavy red robe, the mabari crest embroidered over the right lapel, and she realized this was the first time she had seen him out of armor.

He bobbed his head and swallowed. "Anora."

"Alistair," she replied coolly, lifting her chin. "Shall we get this over with?"

"I-- yes." He shut the door and came into the room; she turned and headed for the bedroom. "No, wait."

She paused, then pivoted back around to face him. He was holding his hand out, fingers reaching outwards. "Why?"

"I just-- I want to talk. First." He took a few careful steps in her direction, arm lowering back to his side.

Anora shook her head with an impatient sigh. "Why?" she repeated. "We both know our duty."

"Our duty, yes." Alistair came even nearer, then rested a hand on her arm. "But no one ever said that we can't take pleasure in our duty. Right?"

His fingers were warm, even through the heavy fabric of her gown, and they curved just right over her upper arm, but Anora refused to lean into his touch. "I know I am not the woman you truly want, not in your bed, nor as your wife."

Alistair lowered his eyes. "It doesn't matter," he murmured. "I know... I know that's not to be." He lifted his gaze and met her eyes with a wry smile. "No more than I would be your first choice to be here. But I am here, and so are you, and I would prefer to make the best of it." Tightening his gentle grip, he leaned in, and he placed a light kiss on her cheek, then on her lips, and his kiss was so soft, unexpectedly yielding, a question rather than the demand Cailan would have made; she found herself responding, kissing him back, her own hand falling on his broad shoulder, and wondered what it would be like to pillow her cheek there.

Then he drew away with a tentative smile. "See?" he said. "Not so bad."

"Perhaps not," she replied, a half-smile tugging at her own lips.

Alistair lightly fingered a tendril of hair that had escaped her braid. "Then show me the way."