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[Maria13]

Chapter 21

Dragon 9:34
Ferventis/Justinian
Denerim [Present]

It was just past noon on Summerday and the children who had been received for the first time by the Chantry were excited. Throughout Andrastrian Thedas on this day, the first day of summer, the children of devout families who were just about to enter puberty were taken to their local Chantry to receive instruction from the reverend mothers (or fathers in Trevinter) on the responsibilities of adulthood.

In Denerim it was also traditional to hold a morning reception at the palace for the children following their induction. All clad in white, like benign spirits of the Fade, they were actually far noisier and more boisterous. The reverend mothers walked among their young flock in their orange and crimson gowns, some of them towers of unflappable serenity, others looking more than a little frazzled and beleaguered. Fortunately, this year they had not run out of summer apples to distribute so Alistair had began going round the hall offering some of the surplus to the Reverend Mothers and having the odd word with them.

He made a particular point of approaching mother Gertrude who, he had heard, had recently been very ill. She had ducked her head slightly when he had proffered her a particularly juicy looking apple, which she had accepted almost meekly. He noticed she was much thinner and she winced slightly when she put out her hand to take it.

“I need to talk to you soon, if that’s alright…” he said to her.
“Is it going to be one of those conversations? You know like the we had two years ago…” she asked taking a bite.

He laughed, “Why, do I look miserable?”

“No, actually,” she said, taking a second bite out of the apple and squinting up at him, “you look quite… Content. And I’ve seen you in the chapel every now and then, since we spoke even if you stand in the back row and sneak in a book…” Alistair reddened slightly. “Oh what, you thought I hadn’t noticed? I am just old, not entirely blind or stupid. You even bring a quill sometimes and write, don’t you? And you’re not making notes of my sermons, it’s probably a naughty letter to one of your lady friends…”

Alistair thought it pointless to quibble about what he was writing but he had never been in the habit of writing love letters, he much preferred a more direct approach. “Well I didn’t think it was quiet fair to leave you say all the prayers for me, but then… Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been slapped?”

“Because I would have slapped you if I could reach and if it really wouldn’t hurt me now far more than it ever would you… Just watch out that the Maker isn’t busy writing letters to his lady friends when you appear before him, Your Majesty… Catch!”

She tossed her core in the air and by pure reflex he caught it.

“Ha!” said Gertrude, “my blessed country is still in good hands or at least in quick ones… Speaking of which, make it next week. Tuesday after the early chant which I expect you to attend with nothing but devotion.” She wagged a finger at him.

“But that’s blackmail… and the first chant starts at dawn…” Gertrude shrugged and turned to leave.

“’course it is,” she said behind her, “the Chantry’s best weapon… especially with the likes of you, renegade, and don’t you forget it… See you then.”

Following that exchange, Alistair departed the hall floor for one of the overlooking balconies. Anora was still distributing apples, some lucky children were getting second or even third ones if they were particularly persuasive. He saw one small dark haired boy pull at Anora’s skirt until she turned round and smiling down at him gave him an apple. He then ran away and approaching a little blond haired girl at the edge of the hall, whispered in her ear and handed her the apple which she grasped with both hands, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Very enterprising Alistair thought.

                                                                                  ~~...~~

Two days earlier he had met up with Oswyn who had just returned from South Reach. They had immediately gone out for a drink at Alistair’s suggestion.

“I can’t stand it at the palace sometimes…” Alistair had explained, “It’s simply too quiet and there’s no-one ‘real’ around, just servants.” Then he added, “Not that I’m saying that servants aren’t real it’s just that they don’t behave in a real kind of way… Of course, you nobles, you’re all used to that, though, and you can cope with it. Me, sometimes it’s bloody frustrating…”

Oswyn was beginning to get used to Alistair’s little sallies and he actually found them quite amusing so he just limited himself to taking a couple of swallows of the rather excellent ale and beaming across the table at him.

“… and now you’re doing it, too…” said Alistair accusingly.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling at me like that, all, yes, yes, yes…”

“I am not.” Oswyn said with false indignance.

“You are… Anora has no less than three ladies to assist her to dress, frankly, I’d be embarrassed to have someone to help me pull on my smallclothes in the morning…”

“I bet you’re no pretty sight either…”

“Maker, no. I’m all sort of washed up and smelly, bristly as a bear, best left to myself… But talking of looks, what happened to that long hair thing you had going... I give you an estate to manage for two months and you tidy your hair and start growing a beard.”

Oswyn was indeed sporting a very neat short blond beard, “I’m glad you noticed.”

“Well, it suits you…” Alistair took a breather, “Business: I presume you’ve heard my decision on Habren…”

“I did. But I am not quite sure what that involved.” Alistair gave him a rather quick explanation about the Grey Wardens and the joining.

“I suppose it’s preferable to hanging.” Remarked Oswyn.

Alistair rolled his shoulders. “I could not find it in me to hang a chit of barely nineteen summers… How is South Reach?”

“I think, like the rest of Ferelden, it’s healing but it will take time.” Said Oswyn, “The important thing is that there are good people in place. However, there is another matter…” his hand went to his chin and he stroked his new beard.

“Yes?” Alistair asked picking up his tension.

“Two people on that list? They are no longer among the living… Both were merchants and used to travelling up and down the road between Lothering, South Reach and Denerim. Both it seems were attacked by wild animals, a bear perhaps? At first I thought we might have one that had gone rogue and I was about to assemble a hunting party when it struck me that bears do not usually drag people off the road and then drag them back on to it once they have killed them. Moreover, one was travelling with his child and she was found by him, distressed but unharmed. She is just three.... I put the hunting party on the back burner until I had spoken to you.”

“Andraste’s ******…” exclaimed Alistair softly.

“Quite.” Concurred Oswyn.

“Elves… I gave Baudouin to Keeper Lanaya…”

“Those were my thoughts.”

“Elves… That will teach me…” Alistair sighed and hunched over his ale, “I think we have them wrong. We think of them as quaint because they’re ancient, frail because they tend to be smaller than us humans and vulnerable, because they are often chosen as victims… ” He looked Oswyn in the eye, “What we are missing is that they’re great survivors, they have been through everything, forever, and yet they are still here. I should have known better, being with Neriya and seeing how strong she is, I should have known better.”

Oswyn nodded and sipped his beer.

“I shall have words with the Keeper when I next see her. I shall give you some sovereigns for the families, but what else is there to do? We could, perhaps, warn those on the list that live in the area, but, firstly, why should we? And secondly, they may well have already taken heed as they were surely meant to. Do you have any thoughts?”

The other man shrugged. “As your Bregeth said, their intention was to kill us all…”

They had agreed that Oswyn would attend the Summereve gala at the palace.

                                                                                   ~~...~~

There were in fact two parts to the Summerday celebrations, the morning which was set aside for children and the Chantry and the evening, or Summereve, a slightly more Andoralian affair, for the adults in which love and the joy of life were celebrated.

The evening party at the palace had also traditionally been used by the Fereldan nobility to broker marriages between its scions. Everyone seemed to agree that the Summereve celebrations had reached the apogee of licentiousness in the first years of Cailan’s reign. However, following Ostagar and the Blight, things had never been quite the same again, and the party had become somewhat more subdued, although it did seem to be slowly picking up, year on year.

It was one of those evenings when Alistair regretted he had not employed a dancing instructor. Dancing: it was so superficial and frivolous that of all the things he felt compelled to study and master, it was surely the least. And yet, and yet, when one was King and one was young, even in Ferelden, one was expected to know some basic dance steps.

He thought perhaps his battlefield technique would always be against him when it came to dancing running forward, while heavily armoured, attack left and right, take down the weaker or more dangerous opponents and take the flak. Whereas dancing was the opposite, it involved stepping to one side, giving way, sharing space gracefully with others, and, above all, avoiding treading on their toes or cramping their style.

At least he was part of the crowd this evening, and so much less visible. The dancers formed two long chains, male alternating with female, that wound round each other so providing each person a partner of the opposite sex every few minutes.

Alistair’s latest partner was a rather tall redhead with shiny, slightly curly hair that fell well below her shoulders and bright green/blue eyes who performed the required steps impeccably. Alistair had just made his third or fourth mistake, going to the right instead of to the left when she smiled quietly, batted her eyelids at him, and said in a low voice:

“I can give you pleasure such as you have never felt before…”

Since he had never heard that kind of opening remark away from rough Denerim street corners after dark, he thought he had surely misheard and conducted a quick examination of her clothing. Insofar as he could tell, she was definitely dressed like a noblewoman, “… excuse me.” He said as he knelt on one knee.

Taking advantage of a dance step that required her to deliver a mock kiss on the cheek, his partner gave him a real one and whispered enticingly, her breath warm in his ear, “You heard me.”

As she wheeled behind him while he held her hand aloft she continued, “All I ask in exchange…” She was standing in front of him again, and apparently, he should be standing too, so he checked out her breasts and found them to be firm and pert and not overlarge, quite to his liking, “… is that you give me a child.”

“Right.” He said now meeting her eyes grinning at her inanely because he thought she was joking, either that or, very embarrassingly for them both, she had surely confused him with someone else.

She pouted and put her hands on her hips, “I am serious. It is Summereve.” She said. “My estate needs an heir…”
“OK,” he said, his hands on his hips now, making a hash of the fancy legwork but pretending not to be aware that he had, “and does milady have any particular preference as to the gender of this child?”

“A boy.” She mouthed at him as she stepped away towards her next partner, “I would like a boy…”

Shortly afterwards Alistair joined Oswyn on the upper circle and pointed her out, “Who the hell is that woman?”

“Which one?”

“That redhead there…”

“Oh that’s ‘Pup’ Cousland.”

“‘Pup’?”

“She’s Bryce’s and Eleanor’s youngest. I am surprised Fergus has let her out…”

“What do you mean?”

“She had a bad Blight…”

“I thought everybody had a bad Blight…” said Alistair confused, “Me, you…”

“Well, if I understood it rightly, ‘Pup’ had an even worse Blight than I; her trauma has outlasted mine… Why?” He said tilting his head to one side.

Alistair repeated what Pup had told him.

“Oh that sounds like the old Pup all over…” said Oswyn, “She never could hold that tongue of hers… In any sense. She must have propositioned every minimally desirable male member of the nobility in her time and bedded most of them, too. But she’s looking for an heir now, eh? Gosh, she must be desperate… Starting right at the top, as well, how typical…”

“But is what she said true?”

“You mean if she is a good lay?” Oswyn glanced at him and laughed, “I really don’t know, I never succumbed to her, too brazen… She has my type peeing in his pants…”

“What’s her real name?”

“Rousaura, or Rous. Rous Cousland. Now surely you didn’t bring me here this evening just so I could tell you about women…”

“Of course not,” said Alistair, “Although it is, as the lady said, Summereve, so when better? But I actually brought you here so you could pick out Bann Walford for me…”

“I see,” said Oswyn turning and carefully scanning the room below, “ah, there he is, right there, I think he’s brought his wife along too. He looks worried…”

“You mean just like someone with a guilty conscience who has been ordered by the King to put in an appearance at a party?”

“I mean… Oh, I see. You are mischievous, Alistair…”

“I think we should go down there and invite him up to this room here for a little chat, don’t you?”

                                                                                         ~~...~~

“Well, you know me, although I don’t really know you, I mean we’ve never spoken.” Alistair began rather awkwardly, “Anyway you might know him, he’s Oswyn of Dragon Peak, he was also at the camp in the Brecilian Forest with me about two and a half months ago now…”

“Hello, Domhnall” said Oswyn leaning back putting his hands behind his head and grinning.

“Why have you asked me here?” the plump but rather miserable looking Bann said, ignoring Oswyn and concentrating on Alistair.

Alistair ignored him back. “Does Domhnall look a little nervous to you?” he asked Oswyn.

“I think he does, ya’ know.” Replied Oswyn.

“I do too,” Said Alistair glancing back at the Bann.

“Definitely nervous.”

“Definitely.”

“Stop mocking me, stop playing with me…” said the Bann.

Alistair exchanged a long look with Oswyn. “OK” said Alistair leaning forward with a stern expression on his face, “since you’re asking, Domhnall, we’ve spoken to Baudouin and Habren and your name came up…”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about” stammered the Bann.

“Well, that’s a pity…” said Alistair sitting back again and looking at his nails, “… and there was I going to be so nice to you… Now it’s going to have to be Fort Drakon until your memory recovers …”

“Or splatter-splat, don’t forget splatter-splat, Alistair.” Said Oswyn looking pointedly at the window behind the Bann.
“Yes, there’s always the window of opportunity…”

“So, what’ll it be?” Said Oswyn, leaning forward in turn, and folding his hands in front of him on the table, “Fort Drakon or defenestration?”

“I…”

“Or I could be nice again” cut in Alistair, “one last chance like…”

“It was my wife” said Domhnall, “My wife Myrelle.”

“I must admit,” said Alistair to Oswyn, “it really takes a certain kind of man to blame the wife…”

“Yes, indeed” replied Oswyn, “one who is not at all afraid of having his ears boxed in…”

“Perhaps you’d like to shift a little more of the blame onto someone else, while you’re about it? Your children? Loghain?”

“No, Alistair,” said Oswyn, “he’s dead…”

“Indeed, yes, I forgot. I chopped his head off about two years ago right out there in the hall, blood everywhere… But you were probably there to see that, weren’t you, Domhnall?”

The Bann looked from one to the other and saw two hard faces.

“Tell me what you want…” said the Bann.

“A confession,” Said Alistair, “a full confession signed and sealed naming everyone you know who was involved either directly or indirectly in the attack on my encampment and the Elven settlement.”

“And what do I get in exchange?”

“Nothing.” The Bann looked surprised, “But then neither will you loose anything be it your liberty or your life…”

“How do I know this will be the case?”

“I will give you my word…”

“The word of a bastard…”

Alistair moved so fast, Oswyn jumped. He had the Bann by the front of his shirt.

“Bastard I may be, but I have more honour than some piffling, canting, noble who hides his treasonous plotting behind a nineteen year old girl, or his wife…”

“I…I…”

“You what?” Demanded Alistair glaring at him.

The Bann looked down. “I will do as you say.”

“Good.” Said Alistair letting him go. The Bann collapsed gently into his chair. “Then do it now, before I change my mind again.”

                                                                           ~~...~~

Some four hours later Alistair and Oswyn emerged from the room, Bann Domhnall had left about half an hour before, bowing and scraping and leaving a three-page confession behind him.

The grand hall was totally quiet but resembled nothing more than a beach after a shipwreck, a particularly messy shipwreck.

“It seems we missed quite a party…” said Alistair surveying it. There were a lot of spills and mud, it had obviously started raining while they had been busy with the Bann, and even some broken crystal glasses. His head throbbed just to think how much each of those cost…

“No loss to me.” Replied Oswyn.

“No?” said Alistair.

“There are certain things I am not quite ready for yet… as for you, you are still fairly touchy about the ‘B word’, aren’t you?”

Alistair sighed, “We all have our weaknesses. I feel I spent too much of my life grinning and bearing it while that word was bandied about in my presence. I do not see why it has to be like that anymore especially when it’s used by scum like the Bann of Walford. Now there’s my daughter… Children are innocent whatever side of the blanket they happen to be conceived on, if it is anybody’s fault, it is the parents’, why should the child pay?”

He paused. “It has been a long day for both of us, Oswyn, but I thank you for your assistance… It was very to the point, splatter-splat and all that… Can I impose my presence on you just a little more? I would like to see you tomorrow, I think we may have things to discuss, apart from this.” He said wielding the confession.

“If you are offering to buy me another few pints of that excellent ale, I’ll certainly consider it…” said Oswyn.

“Your Majesty…” a female voice called up to him. Alistair looked over the edge of the hall balcony and saw Rous Cousland standing below. For some reason she was holding her shoes in one of her hands and standing on the soiled hall floor only in her stockings. “Can I come up and speak with you?” she asked.

Oswyn’s eyebrows almost met his newly tidied hairline, “Let me handle this,” he said smoothly before Alistair could even begin to think of a reply.

“Pup,” Oswyn said calling down to her, “How wonderful to see you. We really have to catch up… Hang on a minute.” He began to lever himself down the staircase using the banister for support.

Alistair saw Rous look at Oswyn and thought he detected a flash of pity and then, perhaps, recognition, cross her features, then she looked straight up at him, and plain disappointment washed over her face.

By that time Oswyn had reached the bottom of the staircase and he called to her again. She went up to him and, after embracing her lightly and exchanging what were obviously formal greetings, he put both his hands on her shoulders and began whispering to her confidentially. Rous glanced up at Alistair again and then turned her attention back to Oswyn to whom she eventually offered her arm and they began to make their way out of the hall, carefully picking their path through the spills and detritus of the party. About halfway across they stopped and, hopping for balance and clinging to Oswyn’s for support, Rous slipped her shoes back on. With Rous casting one last fleeting look back at Alistair, they departed.

“Nobles,” said Alistair under his breath.

[Maria13]

Chapter 22

Dragon 9:33

Solis/Solace

Jader/Port Lydes/Orlesian Heartlands                                                                          [About a year and a half ago]

Jader was a collection of little half-timbered houses mostly painted white with pointed red-tiled roofs and cobbled streets. In the main square facing the Waking Sea there was a simple wooden signpost surrounded by a circle of worn stone steps. Pointing east the sign said "Ferelden" and west "Orlais". Although in the past Jader may have belonged to Ferelden it was currently considered to be part of Orlais.

Neriya sat at the foot of the sign, so this was where Riordan had been from, she thought, looking at the sea, which today seemed to be blue/grey but fairly becalmed. It was a week since she had said goodbye to Alistair and she had made less progress than she had hoped. She was feeling tired and drained and had began to wonder whether she was coming down with something. Two days ago it had suddenly struck her that she had not bled for about eleven weeks. Like many female mages Neriya was very irregular, apparently being a Grey Warden also made you irregular, but in eleven weeks she would have expected to have had at least one bleed.

It had occurred to her that… She had dismissed that thought almost immediately, from what she understood, it was well-nigh impossible. But, then, she was the only female Grey Warden in Ferelden, so what did she know? What, in fact, did anybody know? Alistair had only been a Grey Warden six months longer than her and he had never so much as met a female Grey Warden before her. Sheltered as he had been, she was also pretty certain that what he knew about pregnancy wouldn't even fit on the sharp tip of Starfang. Duncan had died long before any discussion resembling this could take place. The thought, therefore, would not go away. Seated at the foot of the signpost she found herself wishing that she had become aware of these symptoms a few weeks earlier, then she could have spoken, for example, to Wynn who doubtless would have put her mind at rest.

The previous evening she had spent some time reviewing her more recent symptoms: fatigue, dizziness, headaches, an enhanced sense of smell, the feeling that she had put on weight even though she was eating less and exercising more than she had in Denerim. She also carried out as thorough as a physical inspection of herself as she could and noted that her breasts seemed tender and a little swollen and her lower abdomen bulged slightly just above her pubic bone.

Behind her she had noticed a little inn called L'Ancre, she thought that might be as good a place to start as any.

                                                                                       ~~...~~

Thankfully the Innkeeper speaks perfect Fereldan and he directs her to a house on one of Jader's backstreets.

"Sans doute, vous êtes enceinte…" The midwife speaks no Fereldan but her gestures, following a brief examination, do not leave any room for misunderstanding.

The very, very first thought that crosses Neriya's mind is, Alistair is going to be a father, there will be a Theirin heir… and only with some delay does her own role in this momentous event strike her. A certain expression must have crossed her face because the midwife immediately says:

"Je peux vous aider…"

"Non. Non, merci."

Neriya shakes her head: No, no, no, no, no, no… You can't help me, but I don't want to do this either… As if I didn't have enough problems, enough concerns, as it was… As if…

She pays the midwife the 25 silver and stumbles out of the place in shock.

"Au revoir, Madam," says the woman and Neriya's mind translates, I will see you again… No. I don't think so. No, you won't. Her head feels as if it is full of stones rolling around one minute, of bees buzzing the next. Suddenly she feels terribly ashamed lonely and sick as if her stomach had lurched to the bottom of her throat.

She almost runs down to the port where for no particular reason she spends the rest of the day sitting on the edge of the quay, looking out at the sea. The Waking Sea is more enclosed and far smaller than the Amaranthine Ocean but somehow it seems wilder and more untamed. She marvels at how different it seems to be at every distinct moment, how it changes in the transient light from blue to grey to green and any combination of those with glints of gold and crimson.

She remains there until early evening when the fishing boats come in and the smell of the fresh catch on the sea breeze makes her nauseous. She then goes to the little inn and books a room for the night.

                                                                                         ~~...~~

Alistair had advised her to stick to the Imperial Highway, it was by far the safest route he had said. Neriya remembered being touched that he had troubled to enquire about the safest paths for her as if he really expected her to follow them. She was sure part of him knew her much better than that, but another part of him could not avoid attempting to do the right thing for her, even though he was aware that ultimately it was in vain.

Neriya followed the coast by the Waking Sea, which in any event ran parallel to the highway, barely six miles inland at any given point. She had wandered like this for just over a week, sleeping rough when she couldn't find a cave or other shelter such as some ruins, thanking whatever powers that were that the climate was mild if somewhat dreary, showing the picture to whatever stray travellers she happened to come across but receiving only head shakes in reply.

It was therefore around the ninth day when she saw what appeared to be a fairly large town in the distance. Checking her map, yes, Alistair had supplied her with a detailed map of Orlais, too, "Make sure you bring it back with you," he had said, "We didn't have time to copy it…" she guessed this must be Port Lydes. Port Lydes was a relatively new town, only a few decades old but apparently it would soon outgrow the original Lydas being the port with the best connection by sea to Val Royeaux on the Heartlands coast.

She hurried towards it, and arrived there before midday. But once she got there despair hit her this was just another town different but overall the same as the many others she had visited before. Her whole life, it suddenly occurred to her, was going to be one pointless lonely trek, always hurrying towards the next city on the horizon. Why not turn back? Part of her said, at least he loves you, at least life with him will be comfortable and secure and full of small, everyday, joys and love, don't forget love. If she did, however, she would never be free, never really get to know what it would be to be herself, Neriya. Now with a child on the way, she thought she would never know that anyway.

Without being fully aware of what she was doing she did what she had been yearning to do for days, dropped her bundle of belongings, dropped even her staff, and began to pull off her clothes in abrupt tugs. It wasn't really until she wrenched off her boots that she realised that the beach was full of pebbles, too late, anyway. She walked cautiously towards the line where the sea met the shore, feeling the stones abrade the soles of her feet.

The Waking Sea was cold but, she felt, welcoming, an appropriately detached host for a little frost mage. No horizon on the sea, she thought, or at least no disappointing towns, no aspirations, no suffocating love, no babies, just freedom, where sea kissed sky.

                                                                                         ~~...~~

He looked at her with such icy remoteness. How different men were, she thought, if this had been Alistair she would already be in his arms wrapped in a fur or a blanket, or perhaps halfway to bliss.

"Who are you?" she asked the strange elf with his arms clasped round his bony knees sitting next to her belongings. She was attempting to pretend that she wasn't frozen, wasn't naked and wasn't intimidated by his proximity or by the sword buried tip down next to him. She began routing around in the disorderly pile of her discarded garments, looking for her smallclothes.

"Is that the King of Ferelden's?" He said pointing rudely at her belly. She noticed he had surprisingly dark hair and eyes.

"Yes", she said straightening having found them and because she didn't know what else to say. The tattoos on his face were brown and their pattern resembled the branches of trees or antlers, she could not decide which.

"What were you doing in the sea?" He asked.

She didn't reply but stepped into her underwear.

"Oh, don't worry," he said, arrogantly, "You won't be the first little elf to try to end it when they're expecting a shem child and certainly not the last…" He was wearing plain black rough breeches, a little worn around the knees, she thought, and a thick brownish knitted top. His sword looked new, though, or well-cared for.

"I wasn't." She half-lied. "I was just… Confused. Anyway… You haven't answered my question."

"Confused…" he repeated, "Cullivan… My name is Cullivan."

"And who sends you Cullivan? Alistair? Or someone who doesn't like me?" She said holding her robe in front of her prior to pulling it on.

"Don't be stupid, flat ears, if it was someone who didn't like you my sword would hardly be buried in the beach would it?"

She sighed and pulled her robe over her head. "Who then?"

"Someone who doesn't care for me to name them…"

She picked up her cape doing her best to shake the dirt from it. You should have thought of that before dumping it on the ground… Then she went over to her bundle, and, eying Cullivan, began meticulously going through it.

"I am not a thief, flat ears…"

"Neriya, my name is Neriya…" she said

"As you say." He replied.

"Do you speak Orlesian?"

"Compared to Dalish, the languages of humans are like babies' gurgles…"

"Then you might be of some use to me, mightn't you? Are you from around here?"

"Some of us still remain on the Dales…"

"Good. Have you seen this woman?" Well, it was worth a try, she thought.

"What if I have?"

"Yes or No, Cullivan…" She said tucking the picture of Morrigan back into the bundle, picking it up and then picking up her staff.

"No… Where are you going?" He said getting hastily to his feet and pulling his sword free.

"Are there any good inns in town?"

"Not for the likes of us…"

"Even if I have sovereigns?"

"The King of Ferelden must have been mightily pleased with his little Elven bed-warmer… Either that or she has developed a taste for larceny…"

Neriya stilled for a moment and Cullivan stopped beside her, "This would be from my love…" she said suddenly whirling around at him and hitting him across the face with her staff. She remembered Alistair's advice, "When you decide to hit someone make it as hard as you can and make it count, put all your weight behind it."so she did, "… only he would give it to you a little harder still. But this… This is purely from me." She told Cullivan beginning to chant.

Cullivan fell to the ground, half his face smarting, and then was suddenly hit by a wave of cold so fierce that the tears of pain caused by the initial blow froze for a few agony-filled moments on his cheeks and across his eye sockets.

She stood over him and said, very slowly, in case he failed to understand, "I am not a **** and I am not a THIEF. The sooner you learn that the better we will get on, if you still decide to come with me after this."

                                                                                       ~~...~~

Neriya was at the bar of the Bonne Chance haggling with the innkeeper for a room in an ungainly mixture of Fereldan and Orlesian when Cullivan came up behind her, ignoring the innkeeper's worried stare, draped his arm around her shoulder as if he had known her all his life and said, "I shall see you down here tomorrow lethallan."

                                                                                     ~~...~~    

"A bad beginning…" Neriya said the next day.

"Yes," Cullivan concurred nursing his cheek, "but at least I don't think it's broken."

She moved his hand away from it and run her finger over the purpling bruise, "No, I don't think it is… Although I am no healer, I could pay for one if you wished…"

"Spare your coin, Neriya," he replied, "the state you are in, you are going to need every copper…"

"Alistair did not send you."

"Alistair did not send me," he agreed, and added just so they were clear, "and I will not tell you who did. I was happy, at least that this time it did not involve killing, but when they told me who you were, I thought 'uh-oh it's the elves thing'"

"'The elves thing?'"

"You know, send an elf to guard an elf… As if we weren't different… I resented that."

"Different, us?" she mocked, "You're Dalish and Orlesian…" A brief look of annoyance crossed his face, "or not" she added, and then continued, "I'm a mage, a Fereldan and shemlover… Cut from the same cloth…"

"I agree. What are your plans, are you looking for that woman?"

"I am, that is the main thrust of it, though I think it needs to be put on hold…"

"Then you return to Ferelden…"

"Why do you assume that?"

"Oh, well, since you and… 'Alistair', seem to get on…"

"I do not intend to return to Ferelden. I will not discuss why. I think I should link up with some Grey Wardens here in Orlais, one in particular…"

                                                                                ~~...~~

It took them over two weeks to chase him down, despite that fact that he wasn't running and he was quite near. He was sitting on a bench at a rough outside table in front of a little house surrounded on all sides by apple orchards in blossom with a large ceramic mug in front of him. There was a cloth round his eyes and although he was still large of frame, it was as if all the flesh on him had melted. His healers staff lay on the bench beside him.

"Neriya," he said "it was good of you to advise me beforehand that you were coming." The local Grey Warden commander had in fact, insisted on it.

"Konrad, how are you?"

"As you see…", he chuckled miserably, "I can't seem to get away from that wretched word… Not good, I lost my sight a few weeks back and I could only see shadows in the day, that and the nightmares… I would rather see nothing or darkness, hence the… Well, this." He gestured towards the bandage over his eyes.

"I have come to tell you what Al… What I did, but first…" she got up and went over to his side of the table. Lifting up her smock she placed his hand on her naked belly.

"What's this…" said Konrad, and then, "ah! Is it yours and Alistair's?" he asked.

"Yes." She replied.

He shook his head, "Nothing good will come from this," he muttered, "nothing good…" he picked up his mug and took a long swallow of the cider.

Neriya was silent for a fair while, looking at her hands folded in her lap. "I'd hoped you'd say something different…"

"I seem to have lost my capacity for deceit along with everything else…" said Konrad, "It is the taint, you know, it has physical effects too…"

Neriya looked at the beautiful apple orchards and sighed… "Another thing Alistair has to be told…"

"You care so much about him," remarked Konrad.

"Believe me," said Neriya, "he is fully worthy of such affection, I did what I did, and persuaded him to go along with it because… I just could not stand… I could not bear to think of a world without him in it. A world that would continue, if I'd allowed him to die, as in a very deep way he wished to, just as it had ever been. I would not want such a world. I would not want to be part of such a world, so I…"

Modifié par Maria13, 27 août 2010 - 09:33 .

[Maria13]

Chapter 23

Dragon 9:34

Ferventis/Justinian Denerim [Present]

Oswyn looked as though he was enjoying himself.

"I really didn't know that the beer was so good here…" he commented. "So, how can I be of service…"

They were sitting in the bar but at a table just behind an arch so although they got all the background noise they were not directly visible to most of the other patrons.

"I've been thinking," said Alistair, "Thinking about Ferelden, this country of ours, and, no, not when I'm drunk or… But I was wondering what sort of country I would like my daughter to grow up in, and this is not it."

"Send her to Orlais, Antiva or Trevinter then…" Oswyn replied blithely.

"How could I? I'm going to keep her close, I'm not letting her out of my sight… I've noticed that that is what tends to happen, that you nobles sent your spawn abroad, sow you wild oats there, enjoy the differences and then come back to Ferelden with no inclination to change her whatsover… Ultimately it's not very constructive…"

"So what are you saying?"

"Ferelden needs to change, or rather, I need to change it. We're just a tiny, troubled corner of Thedas but we can be better…" Said Alistair leaning back, putting his feet on the table and raising his eyes to the tavern's smoky, cracked ceiling. "I have about twenty years, by my reckoning… If something doesn't happen before that. Twenty years is not very long, in the larger scale of things…"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I would have thought…"

"That I would be interested in assisting you?" said Oswyn completing the sentence, "First you need resources…"

"First I need people, good people, people I can trust, then I need resources," Alistair corrected him.

"Why me, oh King…"

"Well, you seem competent enough, you have a different background to me, you've seen things…" He paused, "Am I going to have to flatter you like some girl to get you to say yes?"

"Hmm," said Oswyn, "You could certainly get me another beer…"

"You think I'm rich or something?" Alistair put his hand up and a barmaid appeared, blushing, "One, two," he said, "pretty…" as she walked away.

"Whatever we do, let's not change the barmaids, eh?" grinned Oswyn.

"Barmaids stay. Definitely." Said Alistair.

"What were you thinking…"

"I was thinking of forming some sort of council… To, um, consider things, formulate strategies, hear petitions…"

"You mean in public?" Asked Oswyn.

The barmaid came back with the beers. Alistair waited until she was out of earshot before responding.

"Do you think this could be done in public? Because I don't. No, not in public, sort of… Under wraps."

"Intriguing…"

"Yes, intrigue. Well, I got you another beer…"

"Yes." Said Oswyn, "Yes. Yes."

"That's a relief, now I don't have to kill you…"

"Ha, ha, very funny…"

"Change of subject… about this troublesome Bann…"

"Ceorlic?"

"Ceorlic."

"Arrest him. Put him on trial… Same as Habren…"

"You think?"

"What are you going to do, poison him, give him to the elves? It has to be done openly…"

"I wasn't thinking of doing anything underhand. But he's going to resist, isn't he? He might even want to make some sort of stand..."

"Yes, he is," said Oswyn, mulling that over for a while, "… Circulate the confession that we have from Bann Walford throughout Denerim and especially in Redcliffe and South Reach at the same time as you go to arrest him…"

Alistair frowned, "I'll need to talk to Anora, get her on board…"

"I think that would be wise." Oswyn agreed, "and while we're on the subject of awkward women, do you want to hear what Pup told me?"

                                                                                       ~~...~~

There was only one other person at the dawn chant that Tuesday, a thin gaunt woman with grey hair who stood the other side of the chapel aisle from Alistair, also in the front row, and did not raise her face once from the ground. True to his word, Alistair had brought nothing to the recital, but as a result he dozed off several times, once even while standing. He intended no disrespect to Mother Gertrude, who, despite her obvious frailty, seemed to be putting all her energy into the chant, but he found he simply could not help himself.

At last, the service finished and the woman scurried away without so much as a word. "Her husband is dying so she attends very frequently," said Mother Gertrude following her with her eyes.

"I am sorry…" said Alistair, who didn't really know what to say.

"He's been dying for three years… Come in here," said Gertrude opening a door next to the altar, not without some difficulty.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure…" She ushered him into a smallish room with a few bookcases a wardrobe and other odd bits of furniture. "Now what did you want?" The Revered Mother gestured him towards a chair.

"You know the last time we spoke? Almost two years ago…"

"Yes…"

"You mentioned then that my father brought me down to be blessed when I was no more than a babe in arms… I was wondering if you could repeat what you told me then and also if you knew, more or less, when that was…"

Mother Gertrude covered her eyes with her hand, concentrating, "You had those same hazel eyes, and a swatch, just a swatch, of blond hair. King Maric brought you down early one morning, alone, and asked whether I could bless you. You were his, I could see the resemblance even then, and he seemed pleased to have you, but he said he was sending you away. I said that that was cruel, he should bring you up with your half-brother, he replied it's what both he and your mother wanted, that they didn't wish you to be burdened with who he was… I didn't agree, but I understood what he was saying. So I blessed you and sent you both on your ways."

Mother Gertrude lowered her hand and looked at Alistair, "He had enemies, you know, King Maric, lots of them and he was not particulary happy with the responsibilities of the crown… Like you, I think. Perhaps what he wanted for you would have been better after all…"

Alistair was silent for a while, "So you are saying that he seems to have specifically spoken to my mother…"

"Yes, that was the impression I got, the distinct impression."

"Did he give you any hint of who my mother might be?"

"No… But…"

"But…"

"There was a rumour going round the palace at the time, I even heard one of the chamberlains tell it, seemingly first hand, that some Grey Wardens had had a midnight audience with the King and that they had delivered you to him…"

Alistair sat back and said wryly, "I've heard of babies coming from Val Royeaux and Fade dreams, and even being found under cabbages, but never previously, being delivered by Grey Wardens…"

Mother Gertrude laughed "It's good to have a sense of humour especially at your own expense…" she said, "That is what I heard, give it the value that you wish…"

"You wouldn't happen to know roughly when this was, would you, Revered Mother?"

"There I can help you." She went to one of the shelves and then said resignedly, "Well, it looks as though you need to help yourself… The top shelf there, the fourth one along…" Alistair stood and got an old leather bound book down for her. She leafed through it quickly. "No, not this register, must be the next one…" He got that down for her.

"Here you are… That's my, horrible, crabbed script." She said pointing at a blotted, stained page "'DA 9:08 14 Nubulis: Blessing for unknown male child – Maric, Rex'" Alistair took the register from her and read it for himself.

"I was told I was born in Parvulis 9:07, I would have been about six months when you saw me…" He said looking at her expectantly.

"I don't know much about children, at least first-hand but that sounds about right…"

He closed the register and handed it back to her, "Well, that's… Mother Gertrude, um, helpful, I guess. Very helpful."

"Are you sure you want to persist in this?"

"You mean finding out who my mother was? Yes, definitely. Yes. "

"You do realise you might not like what you find? Not all of these stories end well, you know…" she said sternly.

"But I was lied to, Revered Mother. I was told my mother was a servant girl living in Redcliffe who died giving birth to me. Not that there's anything wrong or shameful about being a servant or the child of one. Now I want to know not only who she was, but why her identity was concealed with untruths…"

"As I just said, and I know nothing apart from what I have already told you… There may be very good reasons for that."

"And people might be seeking to protect me for my own good. Yes, another wise woman told me that." He paused, "Well… Thank you, thank you very much and…"

"Your Majesty, before you go, can you spare me a moment…"

"Of course."

"Please sit down…"

Alistair sat down again.

"I… Ah… are you aware of having offended the Chantry in any way…"

Alistair's eyes narrowed, "That could be a loaded question… Why do you ask Revered Mother?"

"Please do not repeat this… I have heard that certain people higher up in the hierarchy… Much higher up than I, you understand, are displeased with you…"

"This is not about my personal life…"

"No. Quibbling about that is my concern, as your chaplain. No, we are talking politics or policy, money, possibly… Please…"

"I will not disclose what you have told me or are about to tell me…"

"Again, I do not know if this is truth or rumour but in my experience rumours do not come from nowhere… I have heard that many higher up are displeased with you and may be considering taking action…"

"What kind of action?"

"I really have no idea…"

"Why are they displeased?"

"They say you are seeking to undermine the Chantry's power, its standing…"

"What does that mean?"

"As I said: that usually means authority, influence, money…"

Alistair sighed and shook his head. "This is all very vague…"

Mother Gertrude gathered herself, "As I have said I know nothing specific but I have heard rumours, and if I were you, I would look out for myself, Your Majesty…"

"It is that bad?"

"Probably not, but better to be forewarned… We are not all the same, we clerics, Maker forbid. there are those within the Chantry who are also unhappy with the way things are, who believe that it meddles in things that should not concern it, that it is oppressive and authoritarian sometimes, that some of its actions do not reflect the will of the Maker or of his Holy Wife... One of those of that view is this Sister of mine,"

Mother Gertrude picked up a quill from the table dipped it and wrote a name on a parchment and handed it to Alistair, she is in Denerim Chantry, "should you wish information from someone of the pursuasion I have just described contact her… But…"

"I will not divulge this."

"Good. In any event, I do not believe I will be much affected now, even if you did…"

He nodded, "Well… For both things, I am very grateful… If there is anything I can do for you?" They walked out into the chapel.

"Pray…"

"Ugh… Please, Revered Mother, I am a man, tell me to do something, not stand around…"

"Very well." She interrupted, "Arrange for some of my ashes to be buried under one of the tiles, here in front of the altar. I've worked and lived here for most of my life and I've been very happy here… I don't need an inscription or anything like that, the Maker knows where to find me and he knows my name, too. Don't ask for anyone's approval, it will never end; you're the King, anyway. Just do it."

"Right…" he said glancing down for a moment at the small, rather humble, terracotta tiles, slightly taken aback. "Well…"

"Do not worry about me, I am in good hands." Mother Gertrude said serenely, "Worry about yourself, Your Majesty."

                                                                                  ~~...~~

The following day Dummond listened to barely the first two sentences of what Alistair was asking, shook his head and said, "Wait here."

He came back with a battered ledger and handed it to Alistair who looked at him surprised.

"Neriya was here about a year ago and asked me to give you this should you ever approach me with this kind of query… She didn't, however, give me any idea as to where to look in it."

Alistair swore quietly under his breath took the ledger from Dummond and then said, "I'm sorry…"

"Should I go?" asked the qunari.

Alistair shrugged and sat on one of the wooden chairs in the room perusing the ledger. Dummond sat behind the desk and watched him with some concern.

Alistair flipped through the ledger reading here and there but finally turned to the first page. "Bugger", he said.

"What is it?" asked Dummond.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger…"

Alistair laid the ledger in front of him and jabbed at the first entry with his finger:

"9:08 Cloudreach: First entry. Have just returned from Redcliffe. I am sure Fiona's son will do well there, it is a beautiful area sited on the shores of Lake Calenhad. The Arl and his young brother seem hospitable and kind, if still grieving for their late sister, and were quite taken with the boy. The King is most grateful and true to his word has bequeathed this property in Denerim to the order to act as our headquarters. He has also made clear that he intends to return Soldier's Peak to the order in due course." Duncan of Rivain

"That's me… Duncan, Neriya… They knew and they didn't tell me. That's me, the love of my life and the leader I most admired and respected… I can't believe they kept this from me… That they let me down so badly… I…" He was stumbling quite awkwardly over his words and Dummond suddenly felt sorry for him.

"Perhaps they weren't sure… Neriya certainly didn't seem to be sure… Perhaps Duncan was waiting for the right moment and died before it came… Perhaps… Would a drink help?" Ended Dummond, weakly, remembering that it about a year ago when he had had to break to Alistair the news that the taint would have physical as well as psychological effects.

                                                                                        ~~...~~

Back then they had confessed to each other that the very thought of any infirmity or disease scared the living daylights out of them. Their solution had been to go out and get completely legless.

On their way back, Alistair, who for some reason Dummond could not quite grasp had been loitering behind, had said, "Wait a moment…" and disappeared down a side street. Dummond thought it was a call of nature of one kind until he had heard what appeared to be two voices, one of them lighter, and some gasps and groans and had been forced to conclude it was a call of nature of another kind. He leaned against a wall and crossed his arms against his chest, stoically lowered his chin and waited.

Alistair had come out of the side street lacing his breeches.

"Well, that took you all of half an hour…" Dummond had said unable to keep the harshness out of his voice.

Alistair had squinted up at him and replied, "She was really rather good…"

"I see." Dummond had responded, sounding a tad too condescending.

"No, you don't, actually," Alistair had said suddenly getting riled up. The drink seemed to be affecting them both and not in a good way either, "You don't. Neriya left me. I have no-one… You have family and you told me just this evening you have a lover… Well, good for you, Dummond, I say. If you were only aware of the amount of times recently I've wished I'd died on the roof of bloody Fort Drakon…"

He waved a hand in the general direction of the inmense fortress that sometimes seemed to overshadow the whole of Denerim, "There's only one thing worse than having everything to loose, and you know what that is? It's having nothing to loose, absolutely nothing…"

                                                                              ~~...~~

"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…" Alistair was saying to him in the present, "Who is this Fiona? Do you know a Grey Warden called Fiona?"

It occurred to Dummond that he did, or had, she was a legend in her lifetime, probably about the same age as Duncan, come to think of it. One of the most respected Grey Warden seniors in Orlais for a long time, a mage of great judgment, stamina, beauty and destructive power and… an elf… Ah, merde. Suddenly he understood both Neriya's and Duncan's reticence…

"Possibly." He said. He was aware that it was a very poor answer, but it was the best he could give in the circumstances.

"Possibly… said Alistair, "what does that mean?… possibly…"

"It means I need to check to be certain. It means, Alistair, you need to be patient and bear with me…" He said as gently as he could.

"But why won't you tell me what you know? Why didn't they? They… I loved them, love them both, and they didn't trust me… They…"

It was often that Dummond resorted to using his superior bulk to impose himself on someone or a situation but he realised that this could easily get out of hand through neither of their faults if one of them did not take control. He got up from behind the desk and put his hands on Alistair's shoulders and spoke quietly.

"I recognise this must be extremely difficult for you. I'm not quite sure what I know and until I'm certain I can't tell you because it may do more harm than good. I think both Neriya and Duncan found themselves in the same dilemma. But…" he continued, "I give you my word as a Grey Warden that I will see this through and will share with you everything I know once I've been able to check it. Everything…"

Alistair looked away, embarrassed, and then glanced at him and nodded silently.

"What we are going to do now is sit down and draft a letter to the current Commander of the Grey in Orlais and request information on both this Fiona and yourself. We can co-sign the letter if you wish. I should think it will be dealt with very quickly."

They wrote the letter together in the most formal Orlesian they could muster between them. Alistair insisted he should take it back to the palace for sealing and dispatch, Dummond was more than happy to agree.

Then they paid a visit to their favourite tavern, or, rather, their several favourite taverns, and got plastered… Again. When the time came to depart, Alistair began walking in the direction of the alienage. Dummond must have looked surprised.

"I'm going to pay someone a visit…" Alistair said turning towards him "And it's not what you think…" He said taking a few steps backwards so he was still facing him, "Really not."

"OK," said Dummond, "So long as they make you happy…"

"They do. Oh, they do…"

Modifié par Maria13, 22 août 2010 - 08:54 .

[Addai]

I'm still catching up, but enjoying your depiction of an obviously hardened  King Alistair.  As I said elsewhere, you have a brisk storytelling style that makes for enjoyable reading, and nice detail as well.  Good work.

Oh, and elf mage FTW. 

Modifié par Addai67, 23 août 2010 - 05:36 .

[Addai]

This is so good! I'm on chapter 14, almost there. I'm glad you posted on here as well as at ffnet, otherwise I wouldn't be able to read it at work. LOL But really, really good. *hooked*

[Maria13]

Addai, thanks so much for your comments... As we Brits say, I'm really chuffed...

[Addai]

Up to date now.  *clapclapclap*   I love this!  I was going to write something, someday, about my own elf mage chancellor, but I think you have it all covered and with much better style.  Actually I did write a couple little one-shots about her backstory as a child, but you have the political intrigue down in a much better fashion than I could manage. 

The dialogue is well done, very engaging.  I love your King Alistair.  He is so spot on, and hot as hell.  I also love little details like the royal portraiture and the symbolism in it- that is so creative!  The minor characters are also really well drawn, Lawler, Oswyn, etc..  You even made me like Wynne.  LOL  The sort of circular narrative, with backstory filled in as you go, is handled very well.  Not confusing at all, which it sometimes is in storytelling like that.  I would expect a narrative this tight and well handled from a professional writer.  Also the way you did the interrogations of Alistair and Neriya, again, spot on, lot of fun to read.

Lastly, your elves are great.  Loved the Dalish stuff.  You are going to finish, right?  RIGHT?! 

Modifié par Addai67, 26 août 2010 - 10:55 .

[Maria13]

Chapter 24

Dragon 9:34

Solis/Solace Denerim [Present]

Isabela was walking back to her ship after a most profitable night of cards on the Denerim sea front. Her overfilled purse jangled at her hip in a satisfying way with every one of her measured, perfectly balanced steps. It was barely two hours after dawn and shadows were still short but the day was already exceptionally hot for Denerim.

Suddenly, from between two stacks of packing cases a large figure stepped out blocking her way. His breeches hung perilously low over his hips and he was barefoot and naked from the waist up. Almost involuntarily, Isabela's eyes were drawn to the sweet golden happy trail that stretched from his navel to his waistband. Apprehensive, she took a step back and drew, perhaps someone was not so glad to have been cheated out of a few sovereigns.

"Isa…"

She looked up at his face, recognition dawning in her eyes, "Let me pass…"

"Invite me on to your ship…"

"You jest."

"Never was I more in earnest…"

"You're drunk…" He reeked of wine and the stews, Maker knows how he lost the rest of his clothing...

"Well beyond drunk…" he said taking a swallow from the wineskin he carried. "but it's not enough…" He had just emptied it, he realised, so he tossed it carelessly to one side where it landed with a deflated thud.

She placed the tip of her rapier against his adam's apple. He didn't flinch, "Get out of my way…" she said between clenched teeth.

Alistair raised his face to the clear sky, letting the sun play on it for a while. It was sometime since he had last felt the sun on his skin. He closed his pretty hazel eyes, and then opened them again and looked down at her, "Isabela, you wanted to borrow me, just a few years ago… I was with Neriya, another Grey Warden? I am even better now than I was then. I've learnt a few tricks. I can entertain you…" he moved his groin suggestively, following the effect on her features with great attention. "Oh…" he said, "nothing's changed, you still want me…"

She licked her wide lips but turned her head avoiding his gaze, "It is too risky…"

"And you are afraid of risk now, Isabela? You of all people? Don't disappoint me…" he paused, "I want you… Desperately." He moved his right hand and calmly set aside her rapier from his throat. He squinted down at her in the bright sunlight and smiled lazily. Then he bent down and whispered, his breath almost burning her ear "No-one knows I'm here… Invite me…"

"Very well," said Isabela reaching a decision, "One week and no more." She placed one small hand against his bare chest which although sporting at least half a dozen scars was still beautiful, "Come with me, Sandro…" she said setting the pace.

"It's Ali…"

"No, it isn't." she said tartly turning back on her heels to face him. "Only Sandro gets to board The Siren's Call, and Sandro you will remain all the time you are on board. Are you clear on that?" Her dark eyes flashed.

"Perfectly, Isa…"

"Outside my bedchamber it's 'Ma'am' or 'mi capitán'"

"Perfectly, mi ca-pi-tán." He said trying out the new words.

"Bién." She said briskly. "Follow me then."

As they walk up the gangplank on to the deck of The Siren's Call, she turns and asks, "What do you seek here, Sandro?"

Oblivion, he said in response: a touch of oblivion. She nods as if she fully understands.

                                                                                          ~~...~~


She made him bathe and provided him with fresh clothing. They were served a meal.

"Those green and black things are olives… you have to cure them for at least a year in order to make them edible, they're mainly used for oil, though, and they make the tastiest cooking oil in Thedas. Careful, love, do not bite into them too deeply, they have very hard stones. The sausage is preserved with red peppers, that's what makes it red and spicy. Do you like spicy?" She looks at him from across the table raising her eyebrows.

"I like spicy well enough…" He said, moving his gaze from the plate set before him to her face.

"Good, because many Fereldans can only tolerate bland fare… I am not bland" She said.

"Rivaini goat's cheese. Antivan wine, of course, it has real depth and strength the flavour stays in your mouth and throat for a long time, not like that pee-pee you were drinking this morning… Bread…"

"I do know how bread is made," Alistair says, slightly annoyed now.

"Ah, my sweet, of course you do…"

The olives taste really strange to his unaccustomed palate, sort of oily, tangy and bitter, all at the same time, but they do go very well with the cheese which is dry salty and somehow… deep. The sausage is satisfyingly hot. The bread is fresh, fragrant and crumbly. Altogether, it is the tastiest meal he has had in a while and a relatively simple one at that. Then he tries the wine… it is like liquid sunshine, warm and heady in his mouth… Most of the reds he has savoured before are just pale shadows of this wine.

For dessert, he has an orange but she prefers grapes. He remembers when oranges were a First Day treat for him as a child at Redcliffe and their flavour and smell still mean something special. He watches her pop the grapes into her mouth, bite down on them and spit out the pips. Even that is turning him on…

As she notices him watching her, she begins to do it more sensually, holding the grapes between her forefinger and thumb, biting them in half, licking the juice off her lips with a quick, pink tongue… The women has has spent substantial amounts of time with have only very, very rarely engaged in such displays and he doesn't know quite what his reaction should be, so he watches her with a half smile. In the event, when she extends her strong sticky fingers towards his face, he does what comes naturally to him and takes them in his mouth running his tongue over and around them and sucking at them very gently. Isabela seems pleased.

"Now," she says stretching, arching her whole body back from her waist so her breasts ride up, extending her arms and yawning, "Time for a siesta."

"Siesta?" he asks

"An after lunch nap. Sleep in the early afternoon, play all night…" she explains.

It sounds harmless enough, if a tad indolent. They go to her room. Nice, big comfortable-looking, bed. It resembles his, actually. She strips down to her smallclothes, he does likewise casting a casual glance in her direction. He likes what he sees, firm muscled legs. She smiles at him across the bed. He is pretty tired, in truth, having spent most of the night gambolling from tavern to tavern and drinking gnats' ****** as she has just called it.

As he lay down, he wondered if this siesta thing was only about sleeping or if other activities could be involved in it. When he feels Isabela's impatient lips against his own and her hands sliding into his smallclothes and fondling him between his thighs, he guesses he has his answer. She tastes of the deep red wine they had both so recently drunk with a tang of fresh grapes thrown in. Her manipulations are unbelievably deft, so much so that he soon finds himself groaning with pleasure, telling her how much he is enjoying it and asking her not to stop. Alistair also attempts to respond in kind, he is not wholly inexperienced himself, after all, and soon she, too, is writhing under his touch…

Once they are both sated, as sleep grazes his eyelids, he congratulates himself silently for thinking to seek her out…

                                                                                ~~...~~

Lawler was half an hour late coming back from a day's leave, which made, by his rough estimation, about 10:00 in the morning. As usual, when he arrived about that time, he went straight to Alistair's workroom, the one with the view over the courtyard, the desk and the bookcases, the place where Alistair tended to gravitate in the morning one he had bathed, shaved and had breakfast in order to read and write undisturbed.

He knocked and then opened the door only to find the room empty. For a moment he wondered whether Alistair had simply popped out for a drink or some food, as he sometimes did. But taking a more thorough look around he realised the room had not been used at all that day. There were no books or parchments on the desk and the writing box was neatly stacked away. Alistair was normally very tidy, if not whilst working, at least once he had finished, probably due to the almost two years he spent living under canvas.

Lawler then descended to the kitchens where one of the cooks told him he had not seen Alistair at all the day before. This, although concerning, might not be so strange as it seemed, perhaps the cook been off duty when Alistair dropped by, perhaps there was some other explanation.

Lawler then went to Alistair's bedroom. Alistair was usually a morning person starting his day before eight. Lawler made sure to knock on the door several times quite loudly before venturing in.

The curtains had been opened and the room appeared to have been cleaned and the bed made, although Alistari tended to do this himself, an unmade bed usually meant that the sheets should be washed.

But, quite unusually, there were some letters on the desk in the bedroom, one of which appeared to have been crumpled up and then straightened out again. Alistair only very occasionally worked in his bedroom, he usually preferred to keep work, sleep, eating and diversions in different spaces.

Lawler took a quick look at the letters, he was not over-curious about other people's business by nature; he discovered that only the crumpled letter was actually in Fereldan. He had only recently learned to read, it had been a condition of his employment with Alistair that he do so and Wynn and sometimes Crabbe had given him lessons. He was not very confident with his new skill. He had no idea what language the other two letters were in but he assumed it would be Orlesian because he knew Alistair was fairly fluent in that language, and, otherwise, there would be no reason for the letters to be in his room rather that fielded out for translation. It was by now about 11:30 and Lawler decided to go round all the rooms again, just in case Alistair turned up in the meantime.

He had not.

Lawler then went to speak to Captain Kaylon, head of the palace guard. Together they were able to roughly ascertain that the last time the King had been seen was around the entrance gate three days ago. To Lawler this news was not quite as alarming as it might seem because there was a covert exit route from the palace only known to Alistair and Anora and two or three of their intimates of which he was one. It was by now noon and Lawler deemed that more radical steps were required.

"What is it?" Anora asked testily, "I was expecting Alistair, not you, where is he?"

"Ma'am…"

"Your Majesty," Anora corrected him.

"Your Majesty, a thousand apologies for disturbing you," Lawler was not at all used to dealing with Anora, "but it appears that Al… I mean his Majesty, has not been seen around the palace for at least two days…" He then gave her a hasty summing up of his recent enquiries.

"So no-one has any idea where he might be?"

"Apparently not, Your Majesty, and I did not want to make it too obvious that he might be missing…"

"Am I to understand that he would usually inform you of his whereabouts?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Could it be a woman?"

"It is possible, but I would usually know…"

Anora sighed, "Let's go to his room then…"

"Does he tell you everything?" She asked Lawler along the way.

Lawler struggled somewhat to explain, "As much as a man can," he replied, "but sometimes more than a man really should… Alistair is as he is…" he said recalling Alistair's exhuberance before the battle with the darkspawn. Anora glanced back at him, she seemed rather surprised, if only for a moment.

When they got to the bedroom Anora went straight for the parchments. First, she held up the crumpled letter. "Well, he does not seem very impressed with Lady Cousland's suggestion they should fight a few bouts. At least he has some sense… That woman is tactless…" and she set it disdainfully to one side.

"Now these…"

She sat at the desk and perused them very carefully, raising her hands to frame her face once she started reading. When eventually she looked up from them, Lawler was taken aback that her face seemed even paler than usual. "He would have found these very distressing…" she said laying a hand on them. "You were on leave all day yesterday?"

"Yes."

"That's a pity, a great pity… It seems he must have received them the day before, after you left…"

Anora sighed and then went on to give Lawler a brief summary of their contents.

                                                                                               ~~...~~

"So you're from Rivain," Alistair asked over supper that evening, roast poussins in honey and rosemary with beans, "I thought you were from Antiva."

"It is a common mistake," said Isabela licking her fingers,

"I knew somebody from Rivain," Alistair said, "A man called Duncan, he was the head of the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden for a few years… I don't suppose…"

Isabela suddenly sets her chicken down on her plate and stares at him "Of course I knew him, and very, very well. I first met him about fifteen years ago when I was in my early twenties… Do you want me to tell you what happened? I warn you, it will make for a long story…"

Alistair thinks it over for a few seconds. "Yes, tell me, tell me everything… I like stories…"

"I met him here on the Denerim docks. Fereldans do like to talk, you know, and news soon got to both of us that there was another Rivaini in the city so in a way we were both seeking each other out. I was very taken by him the moment I set eyes on him. My husband, a greasy bastard and a sot from the Free Marches and the first captain of this ship, was an inveterate gambler who would spend all night playing card games and more often than not ended up drunk and broke by dawn… Sandro, the night is young, as they say, but don't you think we should get comfortable? We can take the wine into the bedroom with us if you wish…"

What with kissing, undressing and caressing it took them just over half an hour to settle on the bed and for Isabela to continue her tale.

"Duncan was beautiful, as beautiful as you, but in a completely different way. He was lean, you are wide, he was dark, you are blond… Oh, I am a lucky woman!…

We started talking about Rivain and I told him what it was like, his mother was a gorgeous dark woman from Rivain, you see, and he had loved her very much, but although he had inherited her looks, he had never so much as visited the place.

We drank, but not much, and I saw him watching me, we were more getting drunk on each other, I suspect. I went a maiden to my husband, but I was used to pay off a debt, together with this ship… No, I will not explain that, it is still too painful, but my husband never really wanted me, he used me, of course, but like a plaything.

Duncan desired me, I soon realised, I had not noticed a man looking at me in that way before. I was not aware of it then, but he was in the throes of the taint. The inevitable happened. Duncan's body was so strong and lean, his stomach muscles… As you know by now, I have a thing for male musculature, ah, well…" she said briefly pausing to stroke Alistair's abdomen.

"We were both kneeling naked on the bed in the inn, and I still remember running my hand over them, feeling how solid and firm they were… He was extremely amused that it was not so much his jutting sex that I was interested in, which was pretty enough, of course, as far as these things go, but his stomach…

Come think of it, yours…" She said tweaking Alistair's member affectionately, "is prettier than Duncan's and certainly… Oh, Sandro, you look so sweet when you go red like that, the tips of your ears flare… Anyway, when Duncan was amused, his eyes lit up.

Then Duncan loosened his hair and it was so much longer than mine at the time, almost down to his waist. I had had to have mine cropped, you know, so it barely fell below my ears. We had an outbreak of lice on the journey from Rivian, which should tell you what kind of ship my husband the great greasy pig kept…" Isabela snorted disdainfully.

"Duncan's hair was so dark, dark as a raven's wing and thick, I ran my fingers through it many times and then I kissed him on the lips and cheeks feeling the rough texture of his beard against my skin, and petted him and he laughed. He let me do what I liked with him by way of foreplay and I loved that. 'You are a very strange girl,' he told, me, 'very, very strange…' 'So long as you like me.' I replied, 'I like you' he said, 'I like you and you don't know how much I want you…' his voice went deep, and he pushed me down on my back. He smelled so sweet and when he entered me, it felt so good …

The swine had taken me, broken me, and in two years of usage had not given me so much as an ounce of bliss, but that evening… That evening, I realised what a loving, capable man could do by way of giving me pleasure…

Duncan also began to teach me how to fight, 'you have a good body' he said, 'and a wild spirit, you should make a fine fighter, with a little effort and discipline.' Do you like this story, Sandro, you are not bored by my nostalgic sailor's ramblings?" Isabela suddenly asked.

"I love this story" said Alistair, "It is better than the oranges, than the Antivan wine and almost as good as giving myself to you…"

Isabela laughed and kissed his cheek quickly, "Flatterer… You do learn fast. Well, it gets a little darker now," she added lowering her lashes. "My husband found out, naturally, almost overnight I went from utter misery to walking on air, I am no dissembler. He would have had to be blind or extremely stupid and though he was a pig, he was neither. He beat me very, very hard and used me… Duncan was distressed, he suggested he should talk to my husband but I would not hear of it. I did not want to see Duncan soiled by the swine's blood, you see. I told Duncan I would handle it and he shook his head, he thought I had lost leave of my senses and it would end badly for me, I could tell. But he respected me and he did not intervene. Shortly after the beating, we set sail from Denerim, of course.

We meandered for several months down the coast of the Free Marches, stopping for a few weeks at each main city, and then Antiva. It was when we came to Antiva City that I seized my opportunity. Zev was young then, just starting out, and cheap. If there is one thing Zev loves more than precious metals or fancy clothes it is 'el amor'. Love was part of the price he demanded and after months enduring the pig at sea I was more than happy to give in to Zev. I had never made love to an elf before… The pig was gross, Duncan was intense and passionate, Zev was fun, his body was lissom and flexible, and he had a lively sense of humour, we laughed as much as we ****ed…

My husband was an easy mark, he cheated at cards one time too many, there was a fight and Zev finished it. I was so pleased I gave Zev more gold than promised and we made loved again. He taught me a few things in terms of love and fighting… It was at also about that time that I began to develop a taste for women. Zev is responsible for much of the way I am now.

In any event, I was now the ship's captain. I changed her name, I took her to Rivain and restocked, recruiting a crew more to my taste. In spring of the following year, I set sale for Denerim again.

As soon as I arrived, I sent word around the port. Within a fortnight, Duncan was calling to me from the queyside. He boarded me here in this same cabin, but he wanted to know what had happened. I always tell my lovers the truth so I told him much the same story as I have just told you.

Duncan was not happy. Not happy at all, he said 'If only you had let me speak to your husband…' it was then that I realised he was serious about the speaking part… I should have listened and trusted him a little more. Who knows? It might have gone well or it might have gone badly for us… Duncan refused to touch me after that. But I told him that he knew we were made for each other and I knew eventually he would come around. I made it clear that I would be returning to Denerim every summer and he would know where to find me, I had named my ship The Siren's Call, after all… Within two summers, he was back in my arms and we were sparring on the deck one moment and making love down here the next…

I have not seen him for five years. I do not like to think what happened to him, but in any event, he felt his time drawing near and he told me as much the last time I saw him."

Alistair was going to say something, to tell her what befall Duncan, about Ostagar… But, as if she knows what he is about to say, she puts her finger on his lips and goes "Shhhh…" so he keeps his silence, wondering how fate, and his past, one way or another, always managed to catch up with him.

Isabela helped herself to a few more cups of wine and lay for a while looking at the canopy of the four-poster. Then she turned towards Alistair and ran her hands over his shoulders, arms, chest and thighs, put her mouth on his and pressed her stomach flush against his length as they shared one of those langourous kisses that made him ache so sweetly.

"I am like Zev, you see," she breathed stroking his hair, "I always extract a price in affection. If you enjoyed my tale you need to pay me for it by making love to me tonight as tenderly and slowly as you can…" I can do that, Alistair thinks.

Modifié par Maria13, 27 août 2010 - 11:48 .

[Addai]

Saucy!  I never let a game LI board Isabela's ship, but once again I like your Isabela better.

Has me wondering what Alistair is up to.  Besides... you know. 

[Maria13]

Chapter 25

Dragon 9:34

Solis/Solace Denerim                                                                               [Present]

Lawler agreed with Anora that he would start his search in Denerim and then, after a week, they would review the position. She gave him one hundred sovereigns to cover any expenses and he was very taken aback, and tried to thank her fulsomely she shrugged off his attempts and just said, "Do your duty. Find him and bring him back here even if you have to pry him off some woman's lap by the ear…"

First, of course, he visited Bregeth and Niamh, Bregeth sat Lawler in the kitchen served him some warm broth with herbs and, with perfect amiability, pried everything he knew from him. They had not seen Alistair for three days, but Bregeth told Lawler that sometimes he turned up late at night and when he had been drinking, he had developed the habit of sleeping in the parlour as best he could so they often found him when they went down for breakfast much the worse for wear. Alistair then usually wished them good morning, played with his daughter a little, had breakfast with them, and was off. Bregeth did not explain what the arrangements were when he had not been drinking and Lawler did not ask.

They agreed that should Alistair turn up Bregeth would send the little redheaded elven girl to the palace with a bunch of elfroot for Lawler.

Lawler then visited The Pearl, just on the off chance, where Sanga assured him that Alistair had not been seen, was not there and was not even a habitual client. "As I understand it," she informed him sniffily, "he much prefers street trade…" Lawler left cursing the haughtiness of w***s under his breath.

Lawler got his break at The Mermaid and Anchor where the barman said he saw Alistair late the day before last with a group of sailors. This was confirmed by Priya, when she returned for her evening shift. She knew those sailors well, she said, she described them as "picturesque" and identified their ship as The Siren's Call. It had a female captain she remarked, a certain Isabela. Lawler's ears pricked up at that…

                                                                                    ~~...~~

So it was that around midday the next day Lawler was standing on the poop deck of The Siren's Call with some new friends. He managed to ingratiate himself with the group of sailors with much greater ease than he even suspected possible because they had something in common. Anora's sovereigns had also helped, these being sailors, they drink like fish and some of them have rather exotic alcoholic preferences that do not come cheap. This was Lawler's one difficulty, he was not much of a drinker himself and yet he had to be seen to be keeping up. In the end he waylaid black-eyed Priya and asked that she serve him water which he pretended was spirits and for which he (or rather Anora) paid the full spirit price. He was sure Priya was pocketing the difference, but, what the hell, the girl worked hard and gave him his tipoff. It all worked out well in the end, though, he and a rather stout young Trevinter called Puy whose drinking also seemed to be limited, ended up putting the others to bed or rather dumping them in their hammocks. Puy actually seemed rather grateful for the help.

Puy, looking fresh faced and rosy-cheeked was leaning on the handrail next to him. Lawler always thought that Trevinters would be rather dark but as Puy informed him, "We Trevinters are a mixed lot…" Hamm was sitting in the corner quietly polishing the disassembled artefact that yesterday at the Mermaid and Anchor he was claiming loudly, would end civilization, as Thedas knew it.

"So Captain Isabela…"

"Is a bit busy at the moment… She has a new beau, he's rather dashing actually…" says Puy.

"There's a rumour he's the King of Fereldan…" Whispered Casaubon, an Orlesian, with a hint of excitement.

"So much rubbish." Snorted Lucky, a dwarf. From his accent Lucky was not Fereldan but when Lawler, politely, tried to delve a little deeper into his origins, Lucky just said, "I'm a dwarf, where d'ya think I come from? Underground of course."

"Is not…" argued Casaubon.

"It is and I'll tell you why… Because…" said Lucky, "Surface Kings always get this thing called an 'education': they learn how to ride a horse, governance, languages, table manners, the history of the Chantry, diplomacy, non-chalance, how to be polite to ladies…"

How to behead a darkspawn in one stroke, added Lawler for himself, despite his initial alarm at the subject of the conversation, he was now finding it quite amusing.

"…how to drink without looking drunk…"

Alistair certainly missed out on that one, thought Lawler.

"Oh, I thought the basics of royal education were: the Trivium, grammar, rhetoric and logic, and the Quadrivium, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music, supplemented by…" Chipped in Puy.

"Oh, shut up Holy bloody Father…," said Casaubon and the others immediately began to boo and whistle.

Puy went slightly red "… a long story…" he muttered to Lawler.

"… and dancing…" Lucky finished.

"I do agree on the dancing…," said Puy.

"Good." Said Lucky, "and I'm sure we all agree now that this guy can't dance for toffee…"

"…ergo…" interjected Puy,

"Whatevs, he can't be the King. A cousin or something, perhaps, but not the King… Anyway the King of Ferelden is called Alistair, Priya told me that, and this guy's name is Sandro…"

"Well, that is such a conclusive argument…," said Puy rolling his eyes, but fortunately no one but Lawler seemed to notice his comment.

At that moment, there was a sound from below, a squeaking hinge, a door pushed open. A striking woman with dark curly hair almost down to her waist and a derriere to die for, which she knew how to move, came out on to the main deck. Followed by… Alistair, even from behind there is no doubt that it was he, the wide shoulders, the honey blond hair... Lawler was wholly unprepared for the feeling of relief and some other emotions that he could not quite put a name to, that coursed through him in that instance of recognition.

They were both carrying foils, Alistair was clearly displeased with the weapons, even when he had his back to Lawler, Lawler could tell, just by the way he was impatiently swishing the foil back and forth. Having taken what he hopes is a glance; Lawler turned away from the view of the main deck to face the others.

"There they are, the love birds…," said Casaubon.

"Does Isabela pick up a lot of men?" asked Lawler.

"Is the Archon a Trevinter?" asked Puy.

"Men, girls, you name it… So long as they're pretty." Said Lucky.

Lawler pretended not be interested in what was happening on the main deck but out of the corner of his eye he saw them practicing basic stances. From what he could see, Isabela was pretty strict with Alistair, far more than he would be, kicking his feet to put them in the correct position, making pointed remarks…

"Funny what happened during their second session yesterday wasn't it?" Said Puy.

"Oh yes, she's going to get her own back today, that's for sure…" Remarked Lucky.

"What happened yesterday?" asked Lawler.

"I'll tell you," said Puy, "He hates foils. Foils give her an advantage and put him at a disadvange. On their first day, Isabela made the mistake of using blunted cutlasses for their first session. Sandro had her on the deck in barely four minutes… So she switched to foils. Anyway, they started with the foils and he was standing quite still moving the foil from one opening position to another. He had apparently grasped that she would not usually move until he did and this was a shortcoming, she was following every movement he made like a hawk as she usually does. He is pretty impetuous and Isa really exploits that… He was doing this for a few minutes and then, surprisingly, Isa began to loose patience and made a few half-hearted lunges. I think she'd had it too easy and might have gotten used to it. He carried on a little longer and this weird little smile began to play on his lips… This was just really an extension of foreplay for them both, I reckon. Eventually he put his foil in a lowered position and she was following it with her eyes as usual and then…"

Lawler heard the clash of blades from the deck below, obviously they had just moved from stances to hands on practice. Lawler was pretty certain Alistair would fare badly, he was not about finesse but strength and force, the foil would deny him most of that, still he admired him for giving it a try, although he guessed only a pretty woman would induce him to do so.

"…He drops it." Puy continued, "She tracked the foil with her eyes, as he had been training her to do, and not his body. It was a mistake and a very big one. He charged her, hit her in the mid section with his shoulder and hoisted her over his back, like a sack of potatoes. She started screaming once she'd recovered her breath, 'Sandro! Sandro!' waving her foil ineffectively. He laughed, he's got quite a wicked laugh, and carried on running, took her down to the lower deck and her bedroom, those of us that could, tried to follow them… Just about remembered to shut the door, disappointingly. There was a thud as he dropped her on the bed, followed shortly by another one which was probably him jumping on top of her. Half an hour later, she was still screaming 'Sandro!' from the bedroom… After a while, it all went quiet… I saw them at supper later that evening, they both looked exhausted, but he was far happier than he has been…"

Lawler reflected that you could only use a feint of the kind Puy had described with the same opponent just the once. Perhaps Alistair was not intending to stay that long? Perhaps he was reading too much into things…

"So what else do they do?" Lawler asked.

Casaubon sighed.

"They dance." Said Puy, "She's trying to teach him to dance…"

"Bummer really," added Lucky, "he's hopeless…"

"But at least he's getting lots of the other thing… and then there's the kissing…" said Casaubon.

"That's why we're here," Lawler looked down to find Lucky squinting up at him. "For the kiss…" he said winking.

"It's our hobby." said Puy.

"Sad, you're all sad," said Hamm suddenly from the corner, putting down a piece of the artefact with a clang.

"No we're not, we're just… romantic…" said Casaubon.

"Speak for yourself, petal," said Lucky, "I'm lusty…"

"I'm…" said Puy eyeing Lawler, "just a humble student of human nature…"

They watched the end of the sparring and although Alistair acquitted himself better than Lawler had expected, he still lost. The dancing, to some rather scratchy music played on a flute, mandolin and accordion, was… painful, at least at first. Isabela resorted to counting aloud, "One, two, three, four… twirl. One, two, three, four… twirl. One, two, three, four, FIVE… twirl."

Finally, Isabela seemed to conclude that that this method wasn't working. Lawler had a glimpse of Alistair leaning down towards her and Isabela obviously explaining something to him, given the amount of hand gestures she was making. Lawler realised Isabela had very eloquent body language, he wondered if that was one of the sources of her attractiveness. Perhaps he should not have been looking at their interaction for so long but then he noticed the others were, too. In any event, Isabela put her pelvis against Alistair's and smiled up at him, he returned the smile and then she began to move and he began to follow her in a much more relaxed fashion than previously.

"Ahhhh…" said Casaubon.

"So, what do you make of him?" Lawler asked turning to Puy.

"Of our 'Sandro'? Isabela is a lucky girl, he is very beautiful and I do not mean physically, which goes without saying… I mean he loves where he lusts and he does not even seem to realise he is doing it. Possibly our capitán could show him the difference, but why should she? It is an attractive trait, almost innocent, and she is benefiting from it…"

Eventually the dancing stopped and Isabela went downstairs for a moment while Alistair wandered towards the port side of the main deck, put his elbows on the side and started looking out to sea. Lawler wondered whether he was thinking about the letter…

Isabela came back on deck but Alistair did not seem to notice, still looking out to sea. Isabela waited a while and then went up to him and put her hand on his waist, and then allowed it to smoothly drop down to his behind. Alistair came out of his daze and exchanged a few words with her, perhaps remonstrations? His expression was serious. Isabela replied, very fully. Half way through he put a hand on her cheek, she bent her face to one side and nuzzled against it. He smiled. Then he put his other hand on the opposite side of her face and pulled it towards him.

Their heads were close for a considerable length of time, Alistair's arms dropped to her shoulders and he hugged her against him. Isabela broke it eventually but he still beamd at her, she caught his hand and they went down below.

Casaubon allowed himself to breathe again and said, "Nine,"

"Seven," said Lucky, "it wasn't bad…"

"I'd say eight," added Puy, "progress is definitely being made here, and the kisses are getting longer…"

"Two" said Hamm from the corner, he had not even bothered to look, unlike the others.

Puy murmured to Lawler, "Hamm always gives less than four if it's not girl on girl… Lawler?"

"Seven and a half?" Mumbled Lawler.

"Nice compromise." Remarked Puy, turning to face him, "But, why are you showing such an intense interest in our latest male visitor, Lawler?"

Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Inside, Lawler heaved one great sigh. Puy was too perceptive and some distraction was needed, obviously. Therefore, taking a leaf from Alistair's book he wrapped his arms around the Trevinter pulled him close and put his lips on his. Puy was taken completely by surprise at first but then he responded in kind and passionately. Their tongues entwined… Eventually Lawler let him go.

There was a stunned silence, until Casaubon said: "Ten."

"Eight" said Lucky.

"Four" said Hamm.

Puy's eyes did not leave Lawler's face, "Participants don't vote," he said, his voice husky, "but that was… Wow…"

                                                                                             ~~...~~

That evening after supper, Isabela began to teach Alistair how to cheat at cards. Well, not cheat exactly but how to be a better card player, explaining tells, bluffing, slow playing, best hand play, card counting and betting patterns. Alistair found it all quite amusing, in a detached kind of way.

Afterwards they went to her room where she took him quite frantically; collapsing against his shoulder once they were done. He eventually eased her to one side and gently disentangled himself from her.

"So you must know quite a lot about us, then," He asked after a while, turning toward her. "I mean the Grey Wardens."

"I can smell all you Wardens, Sandro. I find it quite a pleasant, sweet, attractive smell, like early spring blossom. Male or female you all remind me of Duncan."

She sighed, "You carry death around inside you and you wear it around your necks to remind yourselves of it." Isabela clasped his pendant, the only thing he was wearing, in her hand and used it to pull his face towards her, kissing him almost delicately on the lips, "You think of it everyday, when you first wake and before you sleep, and especially when the nightmares come… At sometime or other, you all seek oblivion to make these lives of yours bearable. Before the taint overcomes you, in its first flowering, it gives you strength, persistence and especially endurance, your appetites increase, all your appetites…" She stroked him briefly, making him stir once again, "But then… I should not speak of that…" Abruptly she turned away from him.

Alistair lifted up her long hair and kissed her neck, then said gently, "What Isabela?" turning her around towards him and taking her face in his hands, unsurprised to see tears brimming in her eyes, "what were you going to say? You should say it all, you know, otherwise it will poison you."

"You burn quick…" her eyes over spilled and her tears made bright tracks down her face, "you burn quick, you loose everything you gained and more, and then you all seek that death you have been carrying around inside for so long…"

Alistair put his arms around her, kissed away her tears and then said, "Thank you, I knew all this but thank you for putting it so well and thank you for having me here… And, thank you especially for your compassion and your heartfelt tears."

After a while, she asked him, "Do you want to talk about Neriya, Sandro?"

"Not particularly." He replied looking up at the canopy with his hands crossed over his belly.

"Your feelings at being a Grey Warden."

"No."

"What brought you here?"

"Definitely not."

"We still have a few more days… Perhaps we should get a little more adventurous…"

"What would you suggest?" He asked propping himself up on his side.

"Forfeits…"

"You mean if I win I get to spank you for being such a naughty girl? Hmmm… Not hard of course…"

Isabela laughed. She's like the sea she lives on, he thought, deep and meaningful one minute, light and frothy the next, changeable by the moment. "Oh you are already there Sandro! …and I would tie you to this bed and have my wicked way with you."

Maker… he allowed his eyes to drift to the slightly crumpled sheet under them, it might almost be worth losing…

                                                                                                 ~~...~~

Lawler hoped that it was not this thing that had suddenly developed between him and Puy that was the determining factor, but he decided to give Alistair three more days. That evening Puy said:

"I suppose it would be too much to ask that…"

"Early days" Lawler replied quickly, hoping that the other man could not see him blush.

"But you have… before…"

"Yes." Said Lawler suddenly bristling, "we may not be as advanced here as in Trevinter, but…"

"I intended no offence… Look, I don't know why you're here and I imagine you are not going to tell me. Doesn't matter. Whatever it is, I'll keep my big mouth shut from now onwards. But just tell me that that kiss was for real because I can still feel it…"

Lawler put his forehead against Puy's, "It was for real… I have to go now. I'll be back tomorrow…"

"Good," said Puy, "good."

Lawler then sought out Anora and, adopting an air of mystery, assured her Alistair was safe, but he also told her it was going to take him at least three days to bring him back.

Modifié par Maria13, 30 août 2010 - 03:42 .

[nos_astra]

Puy's story made me laugh so hard ... and smile. Lawler made me smile, too. And Anora's comment about prying Alistair off some woman's lap by the ear made me laugh. (I'm so very eloquent.)

What I wanted to say was, the chapter was so much fun to read.

However, I need to know more about the letter and Neriya.

Modifié par klarabella, 30 août 2010 - 08:25 .

[FutileSine]

I second klarabella- Puy's story was *wonderful*!! I really enjoyed the whole tone between the group of guys....and I obviously need to read some more so I get some sense of context of what the hey is going on!!



Twas very funny indeed- I look forward to going back through all your previous chapters and catching up on what I missed, and most likely over-stuffing your review section with reviews for very very old chapters. Hope you won't mind!!

[Addai]

So what is Pirate Alistair up to? *wondering*

[Maria13]

Klarabella: Glad I made you laugh, bear with me...



Futile: I hope you enjoy the further reading. I look forward to any further views you may have...



Addai: You mean apart from the obvious???

[Addai]

Yes, apart from the obvious. LOL

[Maria13]

Chapter 26

Dragon 9:34

Solis/Solace Denerim [Present]

It was about seven in the morning of the sixth day and everybody except for Lawler appeared to sleeping off the night before on The Siren's Call. The crew had gone on their usual tavern crawl and Alistair and Isabela apparently had forfeits to work out. Lawler therefore rapped pretty loudly on the dark panelled door of Isabela's cabin. He waited a few moments only to be greeted by utter silence so he rapped again. The third time he heard some muffled sounds and then the door cracked open.

Thankfully, Isabela was wearing her smallclothes and over them a rather diaphanous wrap. The first clear sound to come from her was a yawn that she barely managed to stifle, then she said: "Who the hell are you?"

"Doesn't matter." Said Lawler, "I've come for Alistair."

"Ummm," said Isabela suppressing another yawn.

"I think you should invite me in…"

"Why?" She asked, "This is my bloody ship…"

"But Alistair isn't yours, is he?" Said Lawler, happy to have remained sober.

"Come on in then…" She said reluctantly pulling the door ajar.

Lawler entered her cabin and Isabela shut the door behind him allowing herself to drop down onto a divan against the port wall.

"Well there he is," she said gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bed, "See if you can rouse him…"

"It's a bit close in here…" Said Lawler and it was, it was dark and the cabin smelt of claustrophobia and intense lovemaking.

"Particular, aren't we?" Said Isabela, but she went to the back wall and pulled back a curtain revealing a small row of windows on the stern. The room suddenly flooded with light and the large figure in the bed groaned piteously and pulled at the covers. Isabela hauled up one of the panes and, for a brief moment, Lawler saw her trim shape perfectly outlined through the wrap by the brightness. Fresh salty air flooded the small room.

"Hey-ho" said Isabela, "Happy now?" and she returned to the divan. "My head aches…" She said fingering her forehead.

Lawler approached the bed.

"Alistair…" he said softly at first. When there was no response from the figure he began shaking it by its shoulder, "Alistair, Alistair, time to go now… Come on…"

The only response was an unhappy groan and a further pull at the bedclothes.

"Alistair, get up now," said Lawler, and he began tugging at the sheets, "Bregeth is missing you… Come on…" but Alistair only tugged back and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

"Oh for the love of the Maker…" said Lawler.

"Leave me…", the voice moaned.

"Alistair! You're missed, you're needed…"

"Go away!" said Alistair and pulled the covers completely over himself.

"What have you done to him?" said Lawler accusingly turning to Isabela.

Isabela sat on the divan with her hand still on her forehead shading her eyes. "Nada" she said, "Only good food, good drink and sex, lots and lots of sex…The Siren's Call: Best floating hotel in Denerim, that's us."

"Please…" Lawler found himself at a complete loss. He sat defeated on the edge of the bed. Isabela was looking at him curiously. Not knowing what else to do he mouthed, "Please help me…" to her.

She sighed, and rose to her feet, "Very well, it's nigh time to move on and I have been peeing lava for the last two days, anyway…"

She walked over to the bed, "Sandro…" she said imperiously with her hands on her hips. There was a muffled reply from under the covers, but at least it sounded like a response.

"Sandro, you need to get up and make yourself presentable…"

"No!" said the voice

"What was that?" demanded Isabela.

"No…" said the voice far more weakly.

"Don't make me box your ears again, Sandro…" Isabela climbed up onto the bed crawled over the covers, finally draping her legs over the bulky figure under them. She leaned forward and began to whisper. After a while, the figure uncovered its head and Lawler caught a glimpse of Alistair's tousled hair. Then a muscled arm emerged from under the covers and reached for Isabela pulling her face close to his. Isabela's mouth began to move and her body bent forward, clearly relaxed, twitching occasionally. Lawler looked at them longer than he probably should have. Eventually one of Isabela's hands moved behind her with her index finger extended, clearly pointing to the door. Lawler left then, not knowing whether he would get what he came for.

                                                                                           ~~...~~

About forty minutes later the cabin door creaked open and Isabela emerged in her thigh high boots breeches and chemise with Alistair behind her in breeches, a chemise and a battered pair of boots. His expression was rather sheepish.

Lawler walked over to them. "Well, here he is, as good as new, I think," said Isabela, "aren't you, Sandro?" she said turning to him.

"Well," said Alistair, "slightly worn…"

"It's good to see she hasn't quite eaten you alive, anyway." Said Lawler.

"Oh," replied Isabela, "you should know he asked me to do that several times but I decided to spare him…" she winked at Lawler.

"I'm sorry," said Alistair looking away and not meeting Lawler's eyes.

They went up on deck.

"We better disembark before madam the pirate here changes her mind and decides to kidnap us both…"

"Actually, it's called press-ganging when it happens on a ship," said Isabela.

At the head of the gangplank Alistair turned to Isabela, held her hands in his, murmured some words that Lawler who was already half way down did not quite catch, and ran one hand over her dark hair. He then followed Lawler.

"Alistair," Called Isabela when he was half way down, "what happened to Duncan?"

Alistair turned on his heels to face her and said very formally, "He died a true warrior's death at Ostagar, fighting beside his King, Cailan, my half brother, who also passed that day…"

Isabela pulled herself up straighter and said "Thank you."

He added "I am deeply sorry."

"Perhaps I shall see you again sometime," Isabela said.

"Perhaps you will." Alistair replied.

                                                                             ~~...~~                                         

When they were on the quayside and out of earshot of the ship, Lawler turned to Alistair and said. "I presume, you've got everything you boarded The Siren's Call with?"

"Lawler," said "Alistair, "When I boarded The Siren's Call I was only wearing a smile, some breeches and my smallclothes…"

Lawler's lips tightened and he shook his head.

"I can see we need to talk things through, I need to explain… and apologise, I…," said Alistair.

"Not here." said Lawler. "Later."

They were about to leave the port area when they heard someone running behind them. Both Alistair and Lawler turned.

"Uuuuhhhf," said Puy putting his hand on Lawler's shoulder, "it's a long time since I…" he stopped breathless.

"You're not very fit for a pirate…" said Lawler, "I expected more from you…"

"Yes, ah, well, you can do the fit bit for both of us…"

"Hang on." Muttered Lawler, he went over to Alistair who was looking at both of them with some interest.

"I need a moment…"

Alistair looked over Lawler's head at Puy and said, "That's fine…"

Lawler went back to Puy who was staring at Alistair. "He is, isn't he?" said Puy gabbling excitedly, "He's him, the f***ing King of f***ing Ferelden… I don't believe it… I…"

Lawler frogmarched him behind some crates. "I'm so lucky, I just won a bet, I…"

"Is that why you were chasing me or were you chasing Alistair?"

"No, no, I was chasing you… But then I realised... He looks different off the ship…"

"Puy…"

But Puy was already kissing him.

"I guess I deserved that…" said Lawler.

"There's lots more where that came from. Don't leave me…"

"You're the sailor… Love in every port and all that…" said Lawler grinning.

"No, only here, only here in Denerim…" Puy replied earnestly.

Lawler patted his cheek, "I have to go and I'm going to be busy for the rest of the day, sorting him out… I'm, well, I'm not quite sure what I am, sparring partner? Bodyguard? Confidant? Jack of all trades…"

"Factotum…"

"You do rub it in, don't you? I mean this Trevinter education thing…"

"Well, if you've got it…" said Puy.

"There's a tavern call the Wheel of Fortune…" Lawler gave him quick directions. "It's in the poorest area… By the river, the nasty bit of it. I'll see you there at around eight. On second thoughts, it's a bit rough so perhaps you should, wait outside… Pirate."

"I'll be there…"

"Good. Now I have to go…"

"Does he..."

"No. More complications."

"See you this evening then and… Uh, good luck…"

Lawler went back to Alistair.

"What was…"

"Later."

                                                                                       ~~...~~

Alistair leaned back in the round marble bath, "I missed this. Isabela had a bath but the water was quite cold. The only good thing was that a couple of times Isabela got in it with me…"

"'Fraid I can't compare to Isabela." Said Lawler slipping in opposite him.

"Well…" Said Alistair, because until then Lawler had always staunchly refused to share a bath, so much so that Alistair had long ago stopped asking.

From the other side of the tub Lawler glared at him, "Do you know the effort I had to put into finding you…"

"I am sorry…"

"Couldn't you have sent a message or something?"

Alistair snorted, "What would I have said: 'Sorry, currently cavorting with a pirate captain on her ship, see you in a few days time…'?"

"That may have been helpful…"

"You know, I really didn't have the presence of mind…"

Lawler sat back a bit further and glowered some more.

"Look, I've already said I'm sorry… Several times. I mean it…"

"I actually tracked you down a few days ago but I decided to allow you to stay for a few days more…" Lawler muttered.

"Well, I'm very grateful… Running away like that may not have been the best thing to do, all things considered, but it helped… Where were you?"

"Most of the time, with Isabela's crew…"

"That guy on the docks, he was from her crew…"

"Yes."

"He seemed… Isabela's crew are…" Alistair sudden realised that there was not really a polite term for it in Fereldan. The expression 'deviant' kept suggesting itself and indeed, he had called Zev just that many times. Zev who seemed to wear it as a badge of honour, but Lawler? It didn't fit Lawler at all… Aware he had been silent for several seconds, he shrugged picked up the soap and began to lather his shoulders and arms. "Well…"

"Well what?" said Lawler abruptly. He almost seemed to be spoiling for a fight and Alistair did not quite comprehend why.

"Well, what I was going to say…" he said very carefully, "Is that most of them, seemed to be the type of men who like other men for… Well, you know…" he looked away.

Lawler breathed in deeply, "That's why I fitted right in…"

"Right," said Alistair, over-concentrating on the lathering, "right."

"Were you going to say anything else?"

Alistair looked up, "Lawler… I've always liked you…"

"What does that mean…"

"What it means, Lawler, exactly what it means…" Suddenly Alistair found the floodgates opening, "I've always liked you and I still do. Believe me, please, when I say I'm sorry for what happened this week and I am grateful for all the trouble you went to… You've never been judgmental of my personal choices, and Maker knows I haven't always made the best ones, especially recently, so I seen no reason to be critical of yours. You are as you are… and I am not sure there is more to say except that I hope this doesn't change anything between us…"

Lawler slumped back and closed his eyes for a while. When he opened them he seemed much calmer.

"Alistair, just so we're clear on something, pull another one like this week's and I'll be seeking employment elsewhere… As for the other thing… I didn't exactly want it to come out like it did, and that's why I was getting angry… but it's probably for the best."

Alistair stood up and began to lather the rest of himself standing rather awkwardly to one side. "Seems fair enough…"

"Do you want a hand?" asked Lawler.

"Oh bog off…" Alistair paused, "what exactly did Anora tell you, Lawler?"

"That one of the letters was about your mother, who had apparently passed away a few years ago, and that the other was actually from your mother…"

Alistair pulled himself out of the bath, "As I expected she didn't tell you the half of it… Which was good of her, in a way … When you finish here, and there's no need to rush, come and see me in my room… " He paused shaking his head, "Andraste's love… Is everything going to have a second, unintended, meaning from now onwards?"

                                                                                            ~~...~~

When Lawler eventually got to his room he found Alistair sitting on the bed with his mother's letter in his hand, his eyes were slightly red.

"Here take this." Alistair handed him a cup of wine. "Fifteen years old, Orleisian, we don't seem to have any Antivan… Need to change that. Anyway, let's hope it's not past it…"

Lawler sniffed the wine and then took a polite sip.

"Not much of a drinker, are you?" Alistair took a mouthful of his and swished it around a bit and then swallowed, "Hmmm… Could be better. Still, at least it survived the Blight, like us…"

He put the wine cup down and picked up the letter again.

"What was she, I mean your mother, called?" asked Lawler.

"Fiona, apparently. Nice name. Kind of sweet."

"The letter's in Orlesian?"

"That's right…"

"So she was…"

"Orlesian. Yes. But that's not the half of it…"

"What do you mean?"

"She was a Grey Warden…"

"That's a bit of a coincidence…"

"Except that when you look at it in more depth, it's no coincidence at all… She was a friend of Duncan's, the Grey Warden who recruited me. They both came to Ferelden from Orlais with some other wardens towards the end of DA 9:06. My father joined them, apparently, in some madcap expedition to the Deep Roads, where I was conceived… Imagine that, my parents… at it in the Deep Roads, just like Neriya and I…" He sounded confused.

Lawler glanced at Neriya's picture at the foot of the bed where they were both sitting.

"Oh she started to unravel all this herself" said Alistair following his gaze. "But you see, after the expedition Duncan and my mother, the sole survivors of the Wardens returned to Orlais. About a year later, they both visited my father in Denerim and handed me over to him. Duncan then agreed to take me to Redcliffe and Arl Eamon's where I grew up. I guess he kept an eye on me and then decided to recruit me when I was about twenty-three. I don't know why, exactly, I don't know whether he asked my mother… I was flattered at the time, I thought he saw something in me… But I now suspect it was just to deliver me from the grip of the Chantry. Not that I'm not grateful to him for that, but…"

"And it's not like you've proven yourself more than worthy of being recruited since, by, oh, I don't know… slaying an Archdemon…" said Lawler, "Alistair, sometimes you need to look at things a little differently… It's not always all about you, and you are not always… Rubbish. Just sometimes. Like the rest of us."

"Well, thank you, ha, ha... so only sometimes, eh? Another drink?"

"Alistair, I haven't finished this one and it's barely midday…"

"You're not going to make me drink this alone, are you? I need some company here."

Lawler tipped up his cup and swallowed, "There, happy?"

"Lawler, that's not the way… Anyway, here's more… Try and savour this a bit." He poured him another cup.

"Next thing, Lawler. She was a mage…"

"A mage."

"Drink."

"I'm drinking…" They both drank. Alistair poured the last cups from the bottle.

"Anyway, mages are not supposed to keep their babies, Lawler…"

"Why not?"

"Well mages, tend to come of mages…"

"But you're no mage…"

"I'm certainly not… but magic doesn't often usually manifest itself until puberty, until, the mage is a young adult… Imagine two mages in one household, Lawler, who don't get on… And also, mages might be protective of their children, like the rest of us. Imagine what a mage would do to protect his or her child… Finally, if magic develops before reason… I mean there was Connor, Eamon's mage child, his mother thought she could keep him under wraps; he ended up doing a deal with a demon who took full advantage of his innocence and flooding Redcliffe with undead. Nearly destroyed the whole village…

So, it's terribly cruel, but female mages are usually parted from their kiddies at or shortly after birth, when they can't put up a fight. Outside of that, whenever a mage child is found they're taken to the nearest circle immediately. Sometimes female mages agree to give up their babies, like my mother did…"

He paused and took a mouthful of wine. "Forgot to say, I brought up two bottles." Using his teeth he uncorked the next one with a pop and poured for them both. "Drink. Finish, more… I need at least three more drinks before this next bit…"

They drank in silence until Alistair had managed to clear the requisite three… He then let himself flop back on to the bed, clasping the empty cup to his chest.

"So what's this last thing then?" Asked Lawler.

"She was an elf…" whispered Alistair.

"What?" said Lawler.

"SHE WAS AN ELF…"

There was a rather long pause. "Makerandrastebugger…" said Lawler and drained his cup in one go, looking at Neriya's picture again.

"That's about the long and the short of it…" Alistair started laughing and then giggling… "It's funny really… Did you know my father, the great bloody King Maric, had an Elven lover, Katriel, during our glorious war of independence against Orlais, before he met Fiona?

You didn't? Well, guess what? He killed her, Lawler. KILLED HER. Drove his nice, sparkly, sharp sword right through her, one fine day. 'Good morning, darling, ooops… You're dead!' No accident, though, apparently this was all in aid of impressing his bestest friend at the time, a certain Loghain. Andraste, when I first heard that, I was really sorta even gladder I chopped Loghain's head off for him at the Landsmeet, the bastard.

Then Maric goes and conceives me with another elf, but did not consider making an honourable woman out of her or recognising me, despite already being a widower. At that point, his human wife, Rowan Guerrin, Cailan's mother, had died, see… Cailan, of course, went on to marry Loghain's daughter, Anora dearest, but it seems he also carried on a bit on the side. Maker knows what would come out if I were to look further into that…" He levered himself up, "More wine…"

He held out his cup to Lawler, who, fascinated, refilled it without quibbling. "And, oh yeah, finally me… I married Loghain's daughter, the same one that was married to my half brother, after chopping off his head, I mean Loghain's, but carried on with an elf whom I haven't married and who's given me a sweet child…" He paused. "The Theirin male line, eh?… What a bunch of sick, sick, sad little tarts we all are..."

"That's… Quite a story."

"It is, isn't it? So that's why I ran away and spent a week buffing a fit pirate captain. Trying to get that lot out of my head for a while… That and the fact that Fiona's dead so I'll never meet her, in this world at least… Wine." Lawler poured. "And bloody good Isabela was too, for a human… 'To Isabela! Bottoms up…'"

"To Isabela…"

"So have you ever done a woman?"

"Oh I've 'done' women, yes, more than one, as you have so delicately put it, it's just I prefer men…"

"And I don't understand that…" said Alistair looking at his emptied cup.

"And I don't understand what's so special about wine, it's just here to make you pissed, isn't it?" said Lawler, filling the cup again.

"If I have to explain…"

"If I have to explain about men…"

"I feel another toast coming on…" said Alistair, "… to our areas of mutual incomprehension…"

"To our areas of mutual incompre… Sod it…"

"And long may they exist."

"You know, Alistair, you really ought to find out what Bregeth has to say about this elf stuff…"

Modifié par Maria13, 06 septembre 2010 - 09:35 .

[nos_astra]

It's such a sad chapter and yet I chuckled about almost everything that was said.
You took some liberties with the timeline, I noticed. I remember The Calling playing around 9:10 but ... who cares? I don't.

Will there be consequences? Alistair sounded rather upset about the child of an elven mistress bit.

Modifié par klarabella, 06 septembre 2010 - 10:09 .

[Addai]

Oh, I was thinking Alistair was going off after Neriya... I know he thinks she's dead but still. Oh well! Good chapter. Poor... everyone.

[Addai]

Update soon, yes?  *bounces*

You are gonna be so sorry I started reading this.  LOL

[Maria13]

Klarabella, I'm a pessimist with a sense of humour... Timeline, oops gaff...



Dear Addai, but I think everyone's in a better place at the end. I'm not sorry you started reading. I find it motivating, and, yes stuff is coming but I may have to get out to Spain first... Hols, yay!!!

[Addai]

Ooh, Spain! Have fun. Maybe you'll be inspired again.

[Maria13]

Chapter 27

Dragon 9:34

Solis/Solace Denerim [Present]

Bregeth's precise words were, "Welcome to the Elvhenan, shem…" said with a sassy smile, shortly after opening the door and as she bundled Niamh into his arms the next day.

"I see Lawler's already been around with the news…"

"He's trying to be helpful…"

"I know. And he is. How's my beautiful today…" He said holding Niamh up in the air in front of him as he walked into the parlour, "I think she's giggling… She must have noticed that daddy has a funny face or is incredibly hung over…"

"I wouldn't put it past her…"

Alistair sat down at the little parlour table, he teased Niamh for a while she seemed to have developed a knack for chasing his fingers, attempting to grip them and then he said. "This elf thing…"

"Yes?"

"I don't know what to think…"

"It must be confusing to have all the assumptions you've made about yourself suddenly challenged."

Alistair sighed "It's not the first time it's happened to me, but this time… I don't think 'confusing' even begins to describe it… Tell me something… Are humans with Elven blood the same as humans without Elven blood?"

"There are different views, I believe. Most humans who have thought about it have concluded that there is no difference. Me? I think shemlens love to fool themselves by concocting clear dividing lines between themselves and the rest of the beings in Thedas."

"So…"

"The answer is in your question, you're a human with Elven blood…"

"But I look human, I walk like a human, I drink like a human…"

"Elves can drink too, you know. But those are all externals… I think you should look a little deeper. Are you just what you appear to be or are you more than that?"

He sighed, "I should have known better than to get into this type of conversation with you today… I would say that I am more than what I would appear to be, but then I might just be another shem deluding himself…"

"Suppose I were to tell you that if you or Niamh were just run-of-the-mill shems, I would not be here nursing her?"

"But is that true?" He asked lightly riffling Niamh's fluffy blond hair.

Bregeth sighed, "I can tell…"

"You can tell what?"

"I can tell when a shem has Elven blood…"

"Really?"

"You… there's an aura… Oh, I don't know how to explain it… Other Dalish would dispute this, you know. Humans aren't the only ones to console themselves thinking that they're unique, special and somehow 'chosen'…"

"Is that why you had that disagreement with the Keeper…"

"It was one of the reasons, yes. We may not be special but we are complex, there's no denying that…"

"So what do I do? What do I do with Niamh, here?"

"You do nothing, just be as you are. Nothing has changed, this is part of yourself that has always been there and which you have lived with. Sometimes you may know things without them being wholly spelled out, feelings, emotions and such… Pay attention to that. As for Niamh, I'll tell you what to do with her… Oh, you thought I'd set aside my insufferable arrogance? Think again…"

"Yes, I was almost beginning to miss that... One other thing, what do we do if Niamh sets your hair alight one day… Both her mother and her grandmother…"

"First, I'd put it out, of course… What do you think you should do?"

He pulled Niamh close to him and embraced her very tightly. From within his arms, Niamh looked up at Bregeth, with an almost confused expression on her little face, the Elven woman smiled down at her and touched her cheek to reassure her.

"I'd have to take her to Kinloch Hold, hand her over to the Templars… I think my heart would break… Hope she can be trained and survives the harrowing… I would never abandon her, though, I would write and visit. I would ask Eamon for advice, he's been through the same, Connor is thriving now, apparently… Perhaps I should appoint one of the mages to act as her guardian, Wynn, say, keep an eye on her, keep me informed…

"Alistair, that was actually very cruel of me… I wanted to know what you would say, if you would consider treating your daughter any differently from anyone else's…"

"But we don't know do we? That might still happen…"

"Niamh is no mage, Alistair, I can tell… She's a scrappy little fighter just like her father…" Bregeth smiled. "I do so like fighters…"

"How can you be so sure of these things? How can you be so sure… Not even the Grand Cleric claims to be infallible…"

"Yes, but she isn't Dalish… At the end of the day you're just going to have to take my word for it, aren't you?" She got up, "I think I have some broth over from yesterday, Lawler certainly likes it, perhaps it will help your head?"

"It's strange to see you so domesticated…"

"It's strange to see the wastrel King of Fereldan dandling an infant on his lap…"

She busied herself in the kitchen for a while and came out with a small steaming bowl which she put on the table in front of him. He handed her Niamh and picked it up with both hands and took a sip. Bregeth sat opposite him, pulled open her blouse and began breastfeeding Niamh. "Feeding time for Theirins…"

"It's not bad," Alistair said, "not bad at all, actually. Now the stuff Isabela gave me…"

"About that…"

"Oh, that… inexcusable." Alistair said quickly, "Utterly inexcusable."

"Sometimes you behave like a schoolboy attempting to escape punishment… but did it occur to you that you were running from news about your mother, and that your first impulse was to run to a woman old enough and experienced enough to be your mother…"

"Not my first impulse… My first impulse was to drink myself senseless, my second impulse…"

Bregeth did not seem overly impressed by the distinction, "I am not going to tell you as others no doubt do, not to do such things, because you are still young, although that excuse will quickly run out… But if you do these things, you should try, at least, to learn from them and begin to discern the patterns in your own behaviour…"

"Why?" Asked Alistair sounding tired.

"Because such an appreciation may give you wisdom and insight not only into your own conduct, but into that of others. It may be useful. It might even give you the tools with which to master such impulses, should there come a time when you wish to do so… Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh yes…"

"Did you learn anything?"

"Yes." He sighed.

"Then that's all to the good, isn't it?"

                                                                                   ~~...~~


Later that day he went to tie up the one loose end. Anora had an audience apparently, so he waited as patiently as he could outside her chamber. When her visitor came out he went into the room. She was quietly making a note.

"Anora…"

She frowned up at him, perhaps she was wondering why he had dropped his usual "My dear".

"Thank you." He said "I think I owe you something, too. Here." He slid a bag containing one hundred and one gold sovereigns over the table.

Anora nodded and took it mutely. "I hope you are feeling better…" she said as she did so, and then, "It was a woman, wasn't it?"

She knew better than that, of course, but he thought she was giving him a way out. For once he took it gratefully and smiling said, "Well, you know me…"

"We have a meeting on Wednesday afternoon. Don't forget."

"Have I ever?"

"No." replied Anora, "I can't say that you have."

"Well, I obviously have some preparation to do…"

"Until Wednesday."

"Wednesday it is…"

                                                                                  ~~...~~

That evening, Alistair went back to his room and picked up the letter once again. Will I ever be able to read this without weeping? He asked himself.

Dear Child Alistair,

I have written this letter and passed it to the current Commander of the Grey in Orlais to be passed on to you following my death but only should you ever request more information about yourself from the order. I have no desire to disrupt your life should you have chosen to move on and not dwell on what is past.

I should begin by saying that I am sorry I left you, but I am sure by now you have some knowledge of how these things work and can understand that as both a mage and a Grey Warden, I had little choice. That, of course, does not make it any less painful for you and I regret deeply ever having caused you pain.

Dear Alistair, it may come as a shock to you but I am a member of the Elvhenan diaspora. I was born in Val Royeaux sometime around BA 8:87 and never knew my father. My mother died when I was about seven years old of a broken heart and overwork, my childhood died with her.

My human master, a Count no less, took me very quickly to his bed in preference to his wife, the ever-tired mother of his four children. He also took pleasure in inflicting other kinds of abuse on me. Throughout my life, it has never ceased to amaze me that many humans can find my people so intimately attractive but among themselves, and in front of other humans, treat us with such disdain, hatred and depravity.

I am aware, as I write this, that you may have no sympathy whatsoever with this point of view. If that were to be the case, it would, perhaps, make me sadder for you than anything else I can think of. However, if you have managed to read thus far without crumpling my letter up into a little ball and tossing it on the fire, take courage; there is hope for us yet, because nothing I can tell from now onwards could hurt you more than what I have set out just above.

My magic ability was my salvation. Many mages criticise the circles, I know, for depriving them of their freedom and their right to determine their own fates, but sometimes such institutions can be a shelter for those that are less fortunate and this should not be overlooked. When the Templars at last came for me at the age of ten, never did a fledgling mage follow them with a lighter heart…

But for all that, Alistair, as a young woman I was angry, suspicious and wayward and caused my teachers and betters in the circle much grief. So much so that once I had mastered the required magical disciplines, attained a basic level of education and passed my harrowing, it was determined that some practical use should be made of these less desirable traits and I was offered a position with the Grey Wardens. I leapt at the opportunity because I was becoming tired of my confinement within the circle and wished to have some taste of independence, even if it came at what some would think a high price. In order to become a Grey Warden you have to accept the taint into your body, the essence of the darkspawn, and this is not without some consequences. I must say that I never regretted my decision. The Grey Wardens respected and cherished what mages they had in their ranks and for the first time in my life, I felt valued, if not loved.

So that was how eventually, I came to Ferelden with a group of Grey Wardens at the head of which was the then Commander of the Grey in Orlais herself, one Genevieve. A fellow companion of about my years was Duncan with whom I am sure your are familiar. In all likelihood there must be records somewhere of the purpose and outcome of our quest, should you wish to find out more. All I can now say is that the older I get, the greater folly it seems. The important thing is that this is how I came to meet your father. Yes, King Maric decided to come along on this madcap excursion of ours.

If you must know, I hated him on sight. He was male, human and a noble to boot. Everything I had come to loathe and distrust. That he was undoubtedly good looking and charming did not endear him any more to me. I provoked him mercilessly and with impunity as only a younger woman can an older man. There were several confrontations between us, but throughout he remained dignified, good-humoured and patient.

Meanwhile things came to a head in Orzammar, those of us that were not already dead were convinced that we would be shortly following our fallen companions to the Fade. Such situations tend to concentrate the mind, especially if you are young. Fear made me realise that my animosity towards your father was nothing but a perverse alteration of my attraction to him. He, on the other hand, had always found me attractive and was not concerned, at that stage of his life, with hiding the truth from himself. We made love, several times, in those dusty unpleasant vaults, not a new experience for me, but he surprised me with his relative innocence. He seemed incapable of consummating the act without feeling and expressing deep affection, telling me that I was beautiful and that he desired me; nor did he attempt to hide his feelings from others, both things very much caught me unawares, given what had gone before.

In time, our pointless quest came to an end and only I, Duncan and your father survived. He returned to his palace in Denerim and I resumed my life in Orlais. I believe we both tacitly recognised that our backgrounds were too diverse for us to succeed as a couple, furthermore, I had my duties, he had his. In all truthfulness, I did not expect to set eyes on him again.

A few months after my return I discovered I was pregnant. Dear Alistair, since we will now never meet, the very least I can offer you is the truth. I was not happy. I took stock of my situation and considered my options. You should know that your birth was the result of a conscious choice on my part. In the end, I judged that the very fact I had conceived you was so extraordinary that I could not deny you the chance to exist, even if I had to give you up. I also bore in mind the considerable fondness between myself and your father. My pregnancy and your birth were not easy things, but when at last I held you in my arms I knew I had never seen anything so fragile or so beautiful. The surge of love I felt for you was an entirely new emotion for me and endures even to this day.

I was not naïve, I know few men welcome illegitimate children especially if they are kings, but I had faith in your father's goodness and he did not let us down. In fact, he seemed quite besotted with you, almost as besotted as myself. Discreet arrangements were made for your upbringing and I trusted both your father and Duncan to ensure that you were looked after.

Why, you may ask me, did you not do this yourself? Because I knew that if I ever had the chance to hold you again, I would never be able to let you go. It was best for us both that I did not know where you were. As it is, even without seeing you or having anything to remind me of you, I still think about you every day. It is a very physical thing, it is as if my body still imagines you are part of it and it knows it will never be complete or feel complete in your absence. I have had to resist countless times throughout my life the impulse to drop everything I know, break every vow I have made, and seek you out.

Every now and then Duncan writes to me and reassures me that you are well, he has told me you are a comely, healthy lad, quite well developed, have blond hair and hazel eyes, like your father, who you resemble, and a somewhat cheeky attitude that, he says, reminds him of me. He knows better than to give me more detailed information about you…

Now I should come to the circumstances in which I write this. It seems that a Blight has started in Ferelden. I have not had direct news from Ducan for months, I assume he is desperately attempting to recruit Wardens there in order to fight it. As if this were not bad enough, I hear that the political situation is unstable mainly because the young monarchs have been unable to produce a child and the youthful king is chafing under the authority of his father-in-law. As you can imagine, I see all sorts of danger awaiting you in this fraught situation.

Two weeks ago I went to the current Commander of the Grey in Orlais, a good friend of mine, Quentin du Plessis and begged him on my knees to allow me to form part of the Grey Warden contingent preparing to cross the frontier into Ferelden. Alistair, he refused, firstly because he is aware of my history and afraid that my concern for you would undermine my duty as a Grey Warden and, secondly, because he knows I am near my Calling, though lately, I have tried my best to hide it.

The Calling is the eventual toll that the taint inflicts on all Grey Wardens. It first takes the form of auditory, then olfactory and, finally, visual delusions. There is also a physical side to it, though this often lags several months behind the psychological symptoms. At one point in my life, shortly after giving birth to you, it was thought that the taint in me had gone into remission, but, finally, that proved not to be the case, and, as with Duncan, the taint soon reasserted itself. It has been a very long time since I have been able to get a full night's sleep and the waking nightmares seem to be getting ever more frequent, intense and frightening. Most of the time now I feel unbelievably tired, frail and on edge. A destruction mage hearing and seeing things that are not there is a great danger to herself and to her companions, so whereas I cannot but help hating Quentin for his decision, I fully understand his reasons for it.

Enough at last of me, I grow weary of myself and my self-pity.

If you are reading this sometime in the future, there is hope, hope for a new life and a new Thedas. I believed I was doing the right thing when I handed you over to your father and asked that you be brought up as human, that your Elven heritage should be set aside. I do have my doubts about that now, but there is no remedying it. My child, if you are capable of accepting these tidings and forgiving your mother for her many, many failings towards you, then you will be all the stronger for it.

Never forget that you were conceived through an act of love between a woman born a chattel and a King, an elf and a human, if such things can happen, then there is always the possibility that a better world awaits us all sometime in the future, Elvhenan and Human alike. I can only hope you or your own children live to see it.

As for me, I am sure my thoughts will always be with you, even in the Fade.

Your loving mother

Fiona

Since there were still tears streaming down his face when he had finished reading the letter for this, the upteenth time, the answer had to be No or at the very least, Not yet.

He put the letter to one side and the covering letter from the current Orleisian Commander of the Grey with it. He would have to write him a letter of thanks within the next few days, he thought, and perhaps request more information about Fiona. The idea occurred to him that maybe somewhere there would be records or a summary of the lives of at least the most notable wardens. In any event, there was no harm in asking.

In setting them aside, he noticed a third, much shorter letter had been lying under them. Oh, yes, Lady Cousland's letter. He remembered crumpling it up and throwing it on the floor, but apparently someone had gone to the trouble of picking it up, straightening it and leaving it under the others. Well, since it was here, he might as well read it again.

He reached the same conclusion as before, she didn't quite seem to be aware of… a number of things. On the other hand, perhaps because he was in a better mood now, what she was suggesting sounded like it could be, well, fun. He wondered, idly, what impulses lay behind her behaviour.

He sighed, so much work, yet another letter to write, the Wednesday meeting and all the preparation for it, audiences, Bann Ceorlic, then, finally, for his sins, Orzammar...

[Addai]

Aww, this subject matter always makes me teary eyed and here no exception.   I loved your characterization of Maric and how he ended up being such a big surprise to Fiona.  Very much like Alistair with my elven PCs.

Is A. thinking of Neriya?  I'm surprised he didn't talk about her with Bregeth.  Though I'm sure he is.

[Firky]

OK, so I'm very late reading this. Straight up, its compelling, detailed and cleverly structured. And humorous - quite subtely so. I've only finished 3 chapters so far but that's because I'm trying not to miss anything. I have no idea where the story is going.



Also, I think its very clever the way you have really connected with the DA world - like the way people react to the elf thing and the bit about The Pearl. It's a fun read, for sure.

[Maria13]

Chapter 28

Dragon 9:33 Solis/Solace to Dragon 9:34 Verimensis/Wintermarch

Orlesian Heartlands, near Montsimmard/Val Royeaux [About a year and a half ago]

"So," said Konrad, "Allow me to summarize what you have told me... Riordan only informed Alistair and you on the eve of what was going to be the final campaign against the darkspawn in Ferelden of the fact that the Grey Warden who made the final blow against the archdemon would necessarily loose his or her life..."

"Is it not more than that, Konrad?" interjected Neriya, "Even Riordan... It would appear that Grey Warden tradition says it is not just mortality but the Warden's soul itself that is destroyed..."

"Do you believe in souls, Neriya?"

"I... I do not know... but Alistair was a Templar so a soul..."

"Spoken like a true mage... We manipulate matter and that which lays one step beyond, some call that energy. A few of us may even operate beyond that, but it is not certain. Warriors usually only know the realm of matter and, naturally, the concept of a soul comes easier to them than it does to us."

"The point I was making is that the destruction may go beyond the level of simple matter..."

"And you both found that particularly disturbing..."

"Yes we did, and... Frightening... We were young; we are both still young..."

"And this maleficar, this Morrigan, took full advantage of that..."

"If it had been I alone or Alistair alone, she would have had no leverage. Individually we both had a sense of duty that could withstand such inducements... but Alistair feared for me and me for him..."

"But you see, Neriya, that relationship was, in itself, improper and you both entered it with eyes open knowing that it was wrong..."

"You could equally blame the extraordinary circumstances in which it happened for the relationship, Konrad. The fact that we were both immature, inexperienced and attracted to each other, and the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden, until we came upon Riordan, none of which was of either of our making, but simple fate.

The fact that even then there were only the three of us, THREE OF US, Konrad, facing the entire horde. If we were part of a division of wardens, or even a slightly larger group, just five or six, say, our relationship would have had no bearing and Morrigan no purchase... Equally..."

"Ah, Neriya, we should have had this conversation a few years ago..."

"We weren't talking a few years ago; There was no dialogue. You had us both under interrogation..."

"I admit I was heavy-handed and that was a mistake..." He looked away for a moment and took another sip from his tankard, "But why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I am going to have a child, Alistair's, because Morrigan is still out there also with a child, also Alistair's but..."

"According to what she told you, also a potential untainted old god... Whatever that means and if she was telling you the truth... Possibly something worse, possibly even another incarnation of the archdemon you thought you had slain..."

Neriya bowed her head and sighed, "Yes, that is the long and the short of it..."

"What is Alistair's position on all this?"

"This is not his confession, it is mine. If you feel that measures should be taken, take them only against me. If you think a price should be paid, exact it only from me."

"I am dying, Neriya, I have been sidelined from any position of responsibility in the Grey Wardens, which is as it should be... Nighttimes are the worst, should you come by this place then, you will hear me howling and screaming in fear... Even Nana finds it disturbing and she has known me since I was a child... The taint is merciless... It is strange how it seems to be taking me back to my childhood. I do not deny that I still have some influence, but perhaps even there I may be humouring myself..."

"You need to be clear with me, Konrad, before I share any confidence other than my own with you. Alistair is, was my lover, he has shown me only affection and respect, and I owe him my life and more than once... He is the King of Ferelden and I have every conviction he is a good one... He is the father of my unborn child..."

A sad expression crossed Konrad's face, "If only I could see my orchards... But at least on a day like this I can smell the trees in bloom on the breeze, feel the sun on my skin, hear the bees buzzing amongst the blossoms and taste the cider..."

"Konrad..."

"I swear by what remains of my life that no harm will come to either you or Alistair should you choose to confide in me. I will divulge what you tell me to no-one..."

"Alistair... It is difficult for him, more difficult than for me, because he was directly involved in the act itself. I can assure you he had no love or respect for that woman. They were, in fact, at each other's throats from the time they first met, hated each other almost on sight... I think she used that ritual of hers to debase him... For the most part, he has been unable to speak of it, even to me.

After what happened between them in Redcliffe we were not intimate for several months, I believe you picked up on that in your interrogations... Another humiliation for him. It has driven a wedge between us both...

Nevertheless, he is no fool, he is aware of what you and I have just discussed, he simply does not wish to confront it... At least yet...

Add to that the fact that he now carries responsibility for an entire kingdom on his back... A responsibility I in no small part encouraged him to take on..."

Konrad sighed, "What do you want from me, Neriya?"

"Tell me what to do..."

Konrad smiled, "Why that is easy, go back to Denerim, return to Alistair's side, bear his child, be a good mother and companion to him, assist him in what you can..."

Neriya stiffened.

Konrad laughed a rather sad laugh "Blind as I am, I can sense you bristling from over here, Neriya, so you don't want me to tell you what to do... But what you want to do... They are different things, little elf..."

"Don't patronize me, Konrad..."

"It was not my intention to offend. However, you are out of the tower now and the Blight has been quelled, at least for the time being. You have left your lover."

Neriya went to interrupt, Konrad picked that up, "Don't quibble about that, it's what you've done, whatever excuses you may be telling yourself now... The time has come for you to start working out what you want to do and who the hell you are... No one can do that for you. At least it seems you have recognised what you do not want to do... That's a beginning of sorts... And you seem to have decided to have the child..."

"Yes, I don't know how we conceived this child against all odds. It deserves to survive..."

"You also need to make some decisions regarding the child then... You can't be an active Grey Warden and a mother... Harsh but there it is. Can I suggest something?"

"By all means..."

"We both need to sleep on these things. Come back tomorrow, you have lodgings I presume, you and this companion you came with?"

"Yes..."

"Well that's good..." He took another swallow from the mug, "You don't know what you're missing... Au revoir, then, Neriya."

Cullivan was sipping from an identical mug and seemed be engaged in conversation with an old woman who had more wrinkles than Neriya hairs on her head, Nana, probably.

He put the mug down as soon as he saw Neriya and turned to the elder. "Thank you so much for your kind hospitality, Madam, that was delicious..."

Nana nodded amiably.

"She believes that visiting elves bring luck, it is an old superstition hereabouts, that I have heard of before..." Cullivan muttered to Neriya once they were out of earshot, "I wonder how it started? In any event it's better than being pelted with stones and that cider was excellent..."

Neriya was silent.

"So are we done here?" asked Cullivan.

"I will be returning tomorrow..."

"He did not invite us to stay?" Cullivan seemed slightly offended.

"He is in the final stages of the calling Cullivan, he suffers from waking nightmares and they are worse at night, I would not want to stay, even should he invite me..."

"Why?"

"Don't be such a fool; we would not sleep if we were to stay... And I do not wish to see the worst of the calling just yet, because in time it is what will happen to me... and Alistair... I am not yet ready to face that..."

"Lethallan..."

"Cullivan, don't..."

"I am sorry for you..."

"Don't be, I do what I have to do..."

"Is this mage helping you?"

"He says I need to make decisions in respect of my child and myself..."

Cullivan snorted, "Lethallan, I am not a mage yet I have been telling you this for weeks but you have not heeded me..."

"Cullivan..."

"Listen to what our gods tell us on the roles you can assume..."

"'Our gods', Cullivan, you mean the gods of the Dalish..."

"I mean the gods that care about elves..."

"Even flat eared shemlovers?"

"You judge me too harshly, Neriya..."

"Your words, Cullivan, not mine or as good as."

                                                                                      ~~...~~

After a frugal supper, they retired to their chamber, Cullivan to the foot of the bed and Neriya to the bed itself. From the early days he had said something about needing to be in contact with the earth when sleeping, when Neriya pointed out that he was not, in fact, in contact with the earth but the second floor of an inn, and that being the case, might as well use a bed, he had merely shrugged it off.

"So tell me about these gods of ours, Cullivan..."

"Neriya, in my view, and I am no hahren or Keeper, but you need to choose between Andruil and Sylaise... Andruil is the patroness of the path you have travelled until now, that of the huntress, the one who provides for the Elvhenan through her strength and skill. Hers is the three ways, the Vir Tanadahl or Way of Three Trees. First, the Vir Assan, or Way of the Arrow: fly straight and do not waver. You did this when fighting the scourge that was the Blight by becoming a Grey Warden, because the aim of the Grey Wardens is only one and clear, like the straight flight of a well-shot arrow, to end Blights.

Second, the Vir Bor'assan: bend but never break. You were just a mage but became a leader, you left the tower and became a Grey Warden, and you are an elf but mixed with other beings to achieve the one end...

Third, the Vir Adahlen, or Way of the Forest: together we are stronger than the one, this speaks for itself, I think, only by combining the talents of many different individuals from different races and backgrounds could the Blight be defeated.

Sylaise, on the other hand is the hearth keeper, the one who gave our ancestors fire, healing, weaving and the arts of assisting in childbirth. She keeps us safe and warm and gives us a place of shelter, of great importance to a displaced people. She too has skills but they are those of creation and preservation rather than destruction... When you give birth, it should be to her that you call to assist you...

So that is your choice, Lethallan, Andruil or Sylaise, they are both equally worthy..."

                                                                                     ~~...~~

They returned to the little house the following day. Nana was outside feeding some hens, Cullivan went to speak with her but came back shaking his head.

"He can't see us today, he had a very bad night...," he said.

"One day more..." commented Neriya.

"So what, Lethallan? It is not as if you could or should go chasing that woman in the wilds in your current condition, I would advise that you should keep near to civilization..."

As they made their way back to the village, Neriya suddenly blurted out, "I am so frightened."

"What of?" Asked Cullivan.

"Of this..." She ran her hand over her bulging abdomen. "Of being torn apart when the baby..."

Cullivan said nothing but his face darkened. "Let's sit here for a moment," he said pointing to some rocks, "...and discuss this." Once they had made themselves comfortable he said, "I will be with you..."

"Thank you but..."

Looking to the middle distance, he said, "I will do what I can for you..."

That made her blood run cold, the fact that he did not meet her eyes or say everything would be all right or that he would save her, "I need to make a choice, don't I? In case things don't go so well..."

"I did not want to bring this up until later, Neriya. You are new to this. But whatever your choice is, I will respect it. It is better that you tell me now, beforehand, while you are well, but should your mind change during the process, try to communicate with me. You are free to alter your wishes, I will defer to the last thing you have told me and ensure that those in attendance on you act in accordance with that, too."

"Have you seen this before, Cullivan, have you...?"

"Have I attended a birth? Yes, a few times."

She did not enquire whether they had gone well or badly but got the impression that there had been a bit of both.

                                                                              ~~...~~


The following day, she accepted half a mug of cider, took a deep swallow, looked at Konrad who was noticeably frailer, and said.

"I wish to have this child but I also wish to continue to be an active Grey Warden..."

"Are you sure?" asked Konrad, "that seems to be one of the most difficult choices to me..."

"I think it is the right one, if I were to give up so much of my life to be its mother... I might as well go back to the tower or return to Denerim as Alistair's lover..."

"It is important that you do what is suited to you and not what others say you should..." He shook his head, "Look at me, in my youth I trained to be a fighter, I had the passion and the aggression, too, if not the skill, and then, magic found me. Healing magic. I hated it, the passivity, standing at the back with all the others protecting me, but I was persuaded by those who I thought wiser, to channel all my efforts into that.

I am a good healer, powerful, I have saved many lives, but I have never been happy in myself. I feel I was meant for other things... Eventually my pent up frustration found an unfortunate outlet... Leading to my becoming a Grey Warden. I have been content with the order, but I think, I would have been far happier as a mediocre warrior than I am as an accomplished healer... and now... Enough of me... How can I assist you?"

"Give me a mission..."

"Very well. You should chase down this Morrigan, this maleficar, and seek to establish the nature of this child of hers... It seems to me that that accords with our motto of vigilance in peace. Nevertheless, I would advise you should distance yourself and Alistair from its conception. I will write to the regional commander and say that you have heard this tale as a well-founded rumour and that I and you both are convinced it needs to be looked into. You are, after all, the hero of Ferelden, a true Blight queller; you should be accorded some credibility and status...

But first, have your own child... The Order will make provision for you. I recommend you go to Val Royeaux where facilities are better... We can also look for a good home for it..."

"No." Said Neriya quietly, "No there is only one person I will entrust this child to..."

Konrad bowed his head, "I was hoping you would say that. It is strange the patterns some things in life make... Not so long ago one of the most respected members of the Grey Wardens in Orlais was a female Elven destruction mage..."

"Her name was Fiona..."

"That is correct... I did some research upon my return from Ferelden; it is a curious tale... That seems to be repeating itself..."

"You said when we first spoke that nothing good would come of this..."

"I am no prophet or fortune teller, just a poor healer mage. I dislike patterns, I dislike them a great deal... But I suggest you should pay me no heed."

"What of you?"

"The Order has arranged, at my request, for a physician to visit me in a few days time... I hope he or she likes cider."

"A physician?" Neriya was confused.

"Times change Neriya, what would I do in the deep roads, bat the darkspawn over the head with my healer's staff? Blind as I now am..." He drank, sighed and then removed his Grey Warden pendent from around his neck, "Take this and please do not think ill of me... Give yours to your and Alistair's child when it is born..."

                                                                           ~~...~~

She woke up because there was an appalling pain in her pelvis that seemed to be getting worse when she breathed... "Cullivan" she said quietly, and then "Cullivan," a little more loudly when she failed to rouse him. He seemed to wake up with a jolt, his head suddenly appearing at the foot of her bed. His dark hair was mussed and sticking up, she would have laughed out loud at this appearance if another spasm had not hit her...

"What..." he asked.

"I think it's the baby...," Neriya said. Suddenly she felt a sticky liquid flow between her legs. She had spent some time these last months speaking to the midwives and healers. "It is the baby." She said.

She had been about seven hours on the birthing stool, at first she had tried her best to be brave and remain quiet until Cullivan, standing over her hunched figure, stroking her tight silver braids and wiping her face with a cool cloth and occasionally helping her up for a walk around, had threatened to box her ears.

"You need to shout, Neriya, if that is what Sylaise would have you do, it will be better for you, for the baby and for all of us, we are accustomed to such things... Think of it as the scream of a warrior in the midst of a hard battle, there is no shame in it..."

So she had began to shout, curse and yell... As Cullivan had said, none of those present seemed disturbed by it. At first it helped and she had hoped it would assist in wrenching the child from her body, but eventually it only sapped her energy further and the baby seemed no nearer to seeing the light.

Finally, the Elven healer and the plump human midwife looked at the pale woman doubled over, moaning quietly and trembling with pain and exchanged a glance. The midwife dropped to her knees and with a few gentle words of encouragement to Neriya conducted a careful examination. Cullivan left the room with them.

"What are her wishes?" They asked him.

"I should check..." He said.

He returned and kneeled in front of Neriya, put his arms round her for a moment, kissed her strained face several times and said, "Lethallan, what is it you wish? Is it still the same as we discussed before?"

Neriya opened her eyes meeting his dark ones. She licked her lips and nodded. Cullivan then spoke quietly to the healer and the midwife.

A surgeon was called.