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The King and Queen of Fereldan were visiting Skyhold. Their party arrived completely unannounced and Lady Montilyet turned into a flustered parakeet attempting to prepare a banquet out of thin air. She squawked and frantically flapped her wings and Katerina immediately knew better than to bother Lady Montilyet to be held today.
The whole castle was abuzz and there seemed to be nowhere Katerina could go where she wasn’t in the way. She narrowly avoided stampeding feet carrying chairs and dishes towards the banquet hall and it was all she could do to wind her way through rushing scouts delivering hasty messages.
The excitement confused her. It was rare for anything to happen inside her castle home, but more unsettling, it was rarer still for her to be ignored. She frowned. It didn’t matter who she held her arms out to, everyone was busy. They neither heard her small pleas nor bent to pick her up the way they would gladly have any other day. Instead, she was forced to totter on unsure feet while her world moved around her. New. It was new and she didn’t like it.
She spied the plush, high backed throne sitting unoccupied and forgotten at the other end of the great hall, and seeing her chance, she wove around hurrying people and made a game of darting through legs to get to the only safe zone she had found so far.
Face flushed and breathless, she scrambled into the high seat to watch the commotion. She arranged her plump features into the sort she always saw her mother do when she sat on the throne: pursed lips and bored expression, head tilted up to look down her nose. Katarina observed the bustle with mild interest, stroking the bear fur collar of the burgundy cloak around her shoulders.
No one paid her any mind at all and she pretended to judge people as she had seen her mother do so many times, pointing tiny accusing fingers at passerbys. No one even glanced at her.
“Katarina!” called an exasperated but familiar voice. “There you are!”
Bouncing in the throne, she clapped and squealed for her father, throwing her arms wide. The tired man’s chiseled face melted into an indulgent and loving smile. He scooped her up into his arms and pressed scratchy kisses to her gleeful face and found himself laughing at her high pitched bubbles of giggles.
“The state of you,” he tisked, tucking thick blonde curls behind her ear. Her hair was an unruly mess– just the way his was if he didn’t spend so much time struggling to control it– and he wiped halfheartedly at a smudge of dirt on her chin. With a high laugh she tried to wipe across his scarred mouth with a clumsy hand. He grinned beneath her fingers and kissed them gently. This earned him another peal of giggles. “You’re not even wearing a dress…” he murmured dejectedly. Katarina watched him muse to himself and glance towards the door to their chambers. “Bah! There’s no time. This will just have to be good enough.”
He turned quickly away from the throne and sped off with her held securely to his chest. Katarina clasped short arms as far around his neck as she could and watched with vague interest as they walked.
Katarina lost track of where they were going as her father marched purposefully through hallways and down stairs. The people parted for him and uttered respectful greetings and for the most part her father muttered back distractedly. As they passed each one, she waved.
Finally, just as Katarina was being lulled to sleep against his shoulder, they came to a large door. A tall woman fretted outside it, pacing back and forth. Her usual long wavy blonde hair was twisted up and pinned hastily on top of her head. She smoothed long fingered nervous hands down her floor length blue satin dress.
“Maker, there you two are!” she hissed when she saw them, rushing forward, arms outstretched. Her father passed Katarina over and she blinked sleepily up into her mother’s fierce but beautiful face. Katarina grinned happily and her mother’s tight expression slipped just a little. “Oh, Cullen,” she fussed in exasperation. “She’s not even dressed properly!”
“There wasn’t exactly time, Viktoriea!” he shot back, running a hand over his face. “She’s fine. She’s just a baby.”
“This is the King and Queen–”
“It’s Alistair and Gwin,” her father groaned irritably.
Katarina watched her parents bicker in hushed tones, sucking contentedly on her fingers.
“Stop that,” her mother chided, pulling the hand from her mouth. “Ready?”
“May as well.”
Together they pushed the door open and Katarina swung her head around to stare with wide, bright blue eyes.
A richly dressed man and woman stood inside the room, patiently waiting. They were both clothed in fine fabrics with high fennick fox fur collars pulled tight against the mountain’s chill. Though the King sported dusky earth tones, the Queen was bright and vibrant, shades of emerald green and embroidered gold. They leaned close to each other whispering conspiratorially.
At the sound of the door, the King turned and his freckled face split with a wide smile. The Queen looked over her slim shoulder and beamed at them.
“Inquisitor! Commander!”
“A pleasure,” her mother said amiably. She curtsied slightly and her father followed with a shallow bow. “We must apologize. I’m afraid we weren’t expecting your arrival, Your Majesties.”
The King waved her comment away, rolling his eyes at here. “Did that on purpose, didn’t we, Gwin?”
The ebony Queen hummed a response and rocked gently from side to side.
“Fair warning next time would be greatly appreciated,” Katarina’s father told him.
But the King wasn’t listening.
“Oh, is this her??” he cooed suddenly. “You’re the talk of the continent, you know that, little darling?” Grinning, he wagged his finger at Katarina and she giggled boisterously for him. “She’s just lovely, isn’t she?”
Her mother beamed. Her father’s chest swelled.
“Gwin, darling, look! Cute, isn’t she?” The King said jovially, glancing at the Queen. He turned back to Katarina’s parents, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Though, I hate to break it to you, but we have you beat.”
The Queen looked over her shoulder a wide, mischievous smile playing over full lips.
She turned slowly and deliberately, an air of regal mystery about her, and then large curious brown eyes looked at them all from a plump, round face, a fat fist clenched in the Queen’s dark hair.
“Oh I’ve heard about youuu,” Katarina’s mother cooed, reaching out to stroke the baby boy’s chubby cheek. Katarina’s whispy eyebrows furrowed.
“You have?” her father asked, still staring with soft eyes at the small boy.
“I never told you because it never seemed that important.”
“Not important??” gasped the King. His eyes popped with mock outrage and horror. “Gwin, we’re leaving! It’s clear we want nothing to do with these people.”
The Queen just laughed and bounced the boy on her hip.
They prattled on and Katarina and the royal baby gazed at each other in silence. Katarina didn’t like how he stole her attention and she glared at him to tell him so. But the boy seemed perfectly oblivious to her disapproval and instead stared at her in wonder.
He reached a curious hand out and Katarina instinctively leaned towards him. Their parents noticed and discreetly gravitated towards each other, pleasant and interested smiles gracing their faces.
The prince’s hand closed around a fistful of Katarina’s bear fur cloak and she shrieked at him furiously. He withdrew quickly and buried his timid face into his mother’s neck as all the adults chuckled at them.
“Good girl,” Katarina’s father chortled lowly, earning him an elbow from her mother.
“Your Katarina too good for my Duncan, hmm?” the King challenged, squaring up mockingly to Katarina’s father.
With a smirk, her father stepped up toe to toe with the King. They quirked eyebrows at each other, staring unblinking for a moment before breaking into good natured laughter.
“We’ll see,” Katarina’s mother cooed as she smoothed her baby’s wild hair. She watched the boy reach tentatively again, peeking through his mothers locks.
This time, though Katarina eyed his hand distrustfully, she didn’t cry when he gingerly pet the fur. The boy gurgled happily as he ran his fingers through the coarse hair. Katarina mimicked him with her own toothless grin.
“Indeed, we shall,” the Queen agreed in soft tones, looking knowingly at Katarina’s mother.