395 réponses à ce sujet

[Osaria]

I agree - you are amazing Freckles! 

If I had an ounce of storytelling in my blood I'd hope I could be 1/4 as good as you!

[Sandtigress]

Oh, when Alistair came back for and rescued his mom? I squeed on the inside for most of the Fiona sections, but that one nearly came out. In the lunch room. Too wonderful!

[Osaria]

Freckles my dear, where are you?  I'm having withdrawls! 

I hope this means you've got some goodies coming soon...I bored at work - fallin asleep - I need a little sumptin to perk me up! 

Don't really want to rush you ...I'm just sayin.....

[Freckles04]

LOL...I do have another section to post, but I was letting it sit for a little bit. I will post it instead. Can't have withdrawals occurring...!

[Sandtigress]

Yes!!!  We need the talk with Fiona!  Pwetty pwetty pwetty pweaaaaaaaase? 

[Freckles04]

Part 25

Bryn stared at her hands clenched together in her lap, unable to look at Alistair. She wanted to…Maker, how she wanted to, but every time she did, the terrible urges to harm him rose again. The techniques that Fiona had taught her to calm her mind and center herself over the last few days helped dull the pressure to act against him, but it was still there. Her head ached with the effort to hold herself back.

"You're certain?" His voice was rough with emotion. Bryn's fingers whitened against each other from the force of her grip.

"Yes," Fiona said, fatigue weighing down her tone. "Yanic somehow used the taint to connect with Bryn, which is probably the reason why he's able to influence her over such a long distance."

"Is there a way to sever it?"

"I don't know. Maker help me, I wish I knew more about blood magic. But it's so foreign, so…repulsive." Fiona shuddered. "I know a little bit about it--you can't be a Grey Warden mage and not be exposed to it--but I never had any desire to greatly expand my knowledge of that particular school."

"So what do we do?" Bryn asked softly.

"Prolonged exposure to Alistair is going to wear away at the defenses I taught you. You've said the influence is harder to ignore when you're in his presence, yes?"

Bryn nodded, a tear leaking past the corner of her eye.

"No. Stop right there. I'm not even going to let you voice that." The King shoved himself to his feet and strode across the room. "We will get through this. Together. Separating is not an option."

Bryn bit her lip. "Alistair--"

"No. You are my wife, and I won't let you go. Not over this. Fiona, there has to be another way."

"I can think of two other options, though neither are very appealing." The mage sighed and leaned back heavily in her chair. "We can try to cure Bryn of the taint, which would remove Yanic's doorway to influence her. I can speak with this Avernus fellow you've mentioned; it sounds as though he understands the effects of the taint far better than his counterparts in Weisshaupt. But I don't know if it's possible. Besides which, it's dangerous. Before the taint left me, it accelerated to the point that I nearly became--" She broke off, her lips pressed into a thin line. "A darkspawn," she finished softly. "I could hear the call of the archdemon like it was the most exquisite music. It was horrible, and it nearly drove me mad. I don't know what reversed and removed the taint. We might succeed only in triggering your Calling. I couldn't bear that."

"Maker," Bryn breathed.

"And the second option?" Alistair said grimly.

Fiona closed her eyes. "More blood magic."

"Andraste's ass!" Alistair roared. "How is more blood magic going to help?"

"I'm just telling you what I can think of. I didn't say either were good options."

"Alistair," Bryn said. "Hear her out."

The King crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the cabin's wall. "Fine. I'm listening."

"One of the blood magic rituals I know is a very simple one that forges a connection between two people, a way to share abilities. A blood mage might do this, for example, to use an ally's life force to power his spells. But there are more innocuous uses for it."

"Go on," Bryn said.

"As a templar, or a man with all of the abilities of a templar, at any rate, Alistair has a innate resistance to mental influence," Fiona said. "By undergoing this ritual to connect the two of you, Bryn would gain some of that resistance. It should allow her to sever the connection with Yanic herself, or become immune to it."

"'Should' allow me to?" Bryn repeated. "It's not that easy, is it?"

"Well…no." Fiona smoothed back a strand of hair that had escaped the knot at the nape of her neck. "There is the chance that the connection would open up Alistair to Yanic's influence instead."

"Then it's not an option," Bryn stated.

"I think I'll decide that for myself, thank you," Alistair snapped.

"Don't be an idiot," Bryn growled. "You're the King. Exposing you to the potential of a blood mage's influence is a ridiculous risk, and not one we can afford to take."

"So I should choose to let you go or risk your life, instead?" Alistair threw up his arms. "Now who's being the ridiculous one?"

"I say we try to remove the taint."

"Bryn--"

"No, wait." She shook her head. "I knew Fiona held the key for that even before I met her."

Alistair frowned. "What?"

"How?" Fiona demanded.

"Morrigan," Bryn said simply. "She came to me in the Fade and told me to seek out Fiona of the Grey Wardens if I wanted to--"

"Wanted to what?" the mage prompted.

Bryn swallowed. "Have Alistair's children."

"Maker's breath. And that's why you're considering this?" Alistair shot across the room and knelt before Bryn's chair. He covered her hands with his own. "It's not that important, love."

"Ferelden deserves Theirin heirs, Alistair." Gently she removed her hands from his before the urge to wrap them around his neck grew intolerable. "I can't forgive Eamon for his actions, but I can understand his madness, to some extent. There is a reason your line united the nation. It's filled with heroes. Who are we to deny Ferelden that legacy?"

"But…removing the taint…" He shook his head. "You would no longer be a Grey Warden."

"Would you love me less if I wasn't?" Bryn's heart skipped a beat as she waited for the answer.

His brows drew down. "No, of course not. But it's who you are, isn't it? Are you so eager to give up a part of yourself for this?"

"Others may call me the Grey Warden, or the Hero of Ferelden, but that is what I am, not who I am." She squeezed his hand. "I am Bryn Cousland, daughter to Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, sister to Teyrn Fergus Cousland, and, most importantly, wife to Alistair Theirin."

The King chuckled. "Pardon me, but doesn't that make you Bryn Theirin, then?"

She smiled. "I suppose it does. I'm still getting used to this whole 'being married' thing. My point is, I know who I am, Alistair. Being a Grey Warden, or not being one, doesn't change my place in this world."

"You're sure about this?" Fiona said, tension lining her voice. "It's an enormous risk."

Bryn fortified her mental defenses and met Alistair's hazel eyes. "I'm sure," she said.

"Then when we dock in Denerim tomorrow, I'll be off to Soldier's Peak to meet Avernus." Fiona sighed. "Lucky me."

[Freckles04]

The talk with Fiona is the next section. It's in progress!

[nos_astra]

Ahhhhh! That was good, I really needed this.

But over so soon, now we sit and wait for the next part.

[Sisimka]

*fingers drumming on the desk* Is it written yet? Hm?



Hehe. Good chapter.

[Sandtigress]

Awwww, loved it. The part where he corrects her name made me chuckle too!

[Osaria]

Awww...thank you Freckles! 

 I'm still stuck at work but now I'm not bored or sleepy anymore! 

Good one ....feels like a whole buncha big stuff coming !  I can't wait but I guess I have too

[odiedragon]

I'm very curious as to how you're going to interpret Fiona's taint curing.



All I know is that it'll be less crazy than my crackpot placenta-based theory!

[Jannamarie]

I love how you brought in Avernus -- I wasn't thinking about him at all. As always, looking forward to the next installment.

[TanithAeyrs]

Thanks Freckles, your latest chapter was a nice end to a really bad day. Looking forward to more.

[Treason1]

Heh..I think my favorite part is Fiona's last words.

[Hirdas]

I realy like this story.

[Freckles04]

Thanks, everyone! Stay tuned.

[Freckles04]

Part 26

Alistair lounged on the bed in Isabela's stateroom. She'd graciously offered it to him when it had become apparent that he and Bryn would be unable to share the same room for the remainder of the voyage. He'd suggested finding a bunk for himself amidst the crew, but Isabela wouldn't hear of it. He supposed being King had some advantages.

Though the difficulties seemed to outweigh them greatly.

Maker. It seemed every time he managed to snatch some happiness for himself, something ripped it out of his grasp again. What if Fiona and Avernus couldn't figure out how to cure Bryn? No--he wouldn't think about that. They would be successful, and it would work. It had to.

A soft tap sounded on the door. He thought about ignoring it, but decided an interruption to his dark thoughts would be welcome. "Come in," he called.

The door cracked open slightly and Fiona slipped inside. She seemed so delicate, and yet Alistair had seen the strength within her on more than one occasion now.

"Can we talk?" she asked, her uncertainty telegraphed in her hunched shoulders and fidgeting hands.

She's your mother. Bryn's words echoed in his mind as clearly as if she'd just spoken them. Alistair pushed his feet over the side of the bed and rose, waving Fiona to one of the arm chairs next to the bed. "I suppose you want to talk about why you think you're my mother," he said as he took the seat across from her.

Without a word, Fiona withdrew something from the front of her shirt. A necklace. Alistair stilled as he recognized it. "I know you have one just like this," she said softly.

"It was my mother's," the King said after a moment, his eyes locked on the pendant. His hand twitched and he fought the desire to lift his own amulet from beneath his shirt. He narrowed his eyes and tore them away. "It means nothing. They're fairly common."

"Tell me about her."

Alistair frowned. Odd request, considering that this elven mage thought she was his mother. "She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle. I never knew her; she died when I was born."

"You must have been told more than that."

"I--" His lips twisted. "No, not really. Her name was Evelyn. I did some research when I joined the Grey Wardens and discovered I had a half-sister…who, honestly, I'd rather not talk about."

"You met her?"

"I suppose, if you can call being shrieked at for killing her mother meeting someone."

Fiona grimaced. "She sounds...lovely."

"You have no idea."

"And your father?"

Alistair shrugged to mask the tension accumulating in his shoulders. "What about him? He was the King. That’s all I knew of him."

"You never spoke?"

"No, never." He blew out a breath. "What’s the point of this conversation?"

Fiona stared at the amulet in her hands, silent. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "I’d hoped to spare you heartache, not cause it."

Something in his chest twisted at the sadness and regret in her tone. "Let me guess: you had an affair with Maric. Why am I not surprised?"

"Don’t speak of your father like that," Fiona snapped. "He was a good man. Honorable."

"Not so honorable that he didn’t enjoy bedding anything that moved," Alistair muttered.

"Is that what you..." Fiona closed her eyes and nodded. "Of course that’s what you would think. That’s what was shown to you, wasn’t it? But it's not the truth. Oh, Alistair. I wish you’d been able to know him." A half-smile crooked her lips as she met his gaze. "You are so much like him. He was a reluctant king as well, you know. When I met him, he was escaping his responsibilities as much as helping the Grey Wardens. I thought him immature and foolish, at first, but in reality, he was anything but." She sighed. "When I returned to Denerim, with you and Duncan, he implored me to stay. But I couldn’t. Without the Grey Wardens, I was nothing...an apostate elven mage who held the King’s eye, and maybe his heart, but that wasn’t enough. He understood. He certainly didn’t like it, but he understood." Her gaze clouded with memories. "I’ll never forget the expression on his face as he looked down at you for the first time. You were sleeping. He was stunned, but underneath the shock was a happiness that lifted my heart. He wanted to keep you in the castle, to keep you close." Her lips tightened and she looked down again. "It was my wish that you be allowed to live apart, to find your own destiny without the responsibilities of a prince or the prejudice that would come if people knew your mother was an elf. I didn’t want you to be cornered by fate, and yet here you are. A Grey Warden, like your mother, and King, like your father. The Maker has a sense of humor after all."

Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue refused to move. Something in her words rang true; she believed every word she spoke. But--no. She had to be mistaken.

"I’m sorry that I was not here for you, and that, because of me, your father was not, either." She took a deep breath and swept a hand over her hair. "At least you had Duncan looking out for you."

"He was the first person who ever cared what I wanted in my life. I wish--" Alistair shook his head.

"He was your guardian. You didn’t know that, did you?" Fiona said at Alistair’s puzzled look. "Do you think it was just good timing that a Grey Warden came looking for recruits on the eve of your templar vows?"

"He--" Alistair pushed to his feet and paced away to the wall. "Are you saying he came specifically to recruit me?"

"You were safe enough in the Chantry when you were younger," Fiona said. "In one of his letters to me, Duncan mentioned that Maric thought it was the best place for you. At least in the Chantry, you’d be educated. But, no...there was never the intention to allow you to take your vows as a templar and thus be forced into a lyrium addiction. I would not have stood idly by and let that happen, you have my word."

"So Duncan recruited me. But the Joining--it could have killed me."

"You’re the son of a Grey Warden, who was a Grey Warden when she birthed you. So, yes, the Joining could have killed you, but it was unlikely." Fiona’s eyes narrowed. "However, I asked Duncan not to put you through the Joining. You deserved the freedom to choose your own path. But then the dreams of the archdemon came...and the next letter I received told me that you had survived the ritual."

"Maker’s breath." Alistair collapsed into his seat and stared at the woman across from him, numb. In a few short minutes, she’d flipped his world on its side, giving him an entirely new perspective. A father and mother who wanted him but couldn’t keep him? A mentor who’d watched out for him for years? "I don’t...know what to think. I still don’t believe you. I can’t. How can I just take your word about all of this?"

"Do you have your amulet?"

Alistair hesitated, then pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt. Eamon had done an admirable job of repairing the broken pendant, but it still had rough spots crackling across its surface. With an effort, Alistair shoved thoughts of the Arl aside.

"Turn it over."

The King did so, frowning at the patterns and symbols on the opposite side. He’d always wondered what they were, particularly after he’d joined the Chantry and discovered they weren’t anything related to Andraste.

Fiona rose and joined him, showing him her own upended medallion. Similar markings covered the back. "It’s elvish," she said. "And nothing so grand as you might think. On the reverse of your amulet is simply my name, and your name is on mine."

Alistair’s heart thudded in his chest. "I can’t read elvish. You could say whatever you wanted about these markings; I’d have no way to verify it."

"Surely your friend, Zevran, knows a little of our language." Fiona gave him a sad smile. "Go ask him."

Alistair stared at the woman for a moment more before rising to seek out the assassin. He wasn’t sure what game the mage was playing, but it would be easy enough to disprove it--provided Zevran could, indeed, read elvish.

The King found his friend on deck, enjoying the last vestiges of daylight. His long blonde hair glistened in the setting sun. "Ah, Alistair. And how fares our Bryn?"

"Well enough. That's not why I'm here, though," Alistair replied. He handed the amulet to the elf. "Can you read this?"

"You think me some illiterate fool, when I can recite poetry as beautifully as I do? Oh, I see. It’s elvish." Zev’s eyes narrowed. "Lucky for you, the Dalish forced me to study some of the language in the brief time I was with them. It’s a little tough to make out, with the damage and the wear, but..." His gaze shot up to the King’s. "Where did you get this?"

Alistair’s blood ran cold, then heated, pounding in his ears. "It’s mine."

"You’re certain? Because, my friend, this is a name in elvish scroll...and it isn’t yours."

The King staggered back, one hand shooting out to grab the rail. He heard Zev’s voice calling him as though the elf were miles away. The world faded, greying at the edges, and he felt a firm pressure pushing his head toward his knees.

"Breathe, Alistair." His surroundings reappeared as Zev’s voice became clearer, and he found himself sitting on the deck, limbs askew. "Maker’s blood. Don’t do that to me. I was looking about for the assassin who’d felled you, wondering how I was ever going to explain my second such failing to your wife. She’s more frightening than you are, you know."

Alistair swallowed. "Whose name is it, Zev?"

"I think you already know, don’t you, my friend?" The elf folded the amulet into Alistair’s numb fingers. "It says 'Fiona'."

The King lurched to his feet. "I have to--" He didn't finish before he careened back below decks.

Fiona rose from her seat as he thundered into the captain's stateroom. He stood just past the doorway, staring at her. A million thoughts and emotions swirled through his mind, none of them identifiable. The cool air of the room kissed his cheeks, and he realized they were wet with tears.

"You're--" His throat choked closed and he gave his head an impatient shake. "You're my mother."

"Yes, Alistair. I truly am." Tentatively, she opened her arms.

In two steps forward, he found himself enfolded in her embrace. His mother's embrace. The last resistance in his chest dissolved, and the tears borne of a lonely childhood burst free.

[Palentor]

A most wonderful chapter, with an interesting placement of Duncan.

And I humbly beg for your apologies if I am mistaken, but I dare to think that there is a sprinkle of Star Wars in it.

[nos_astra]

Awwwwww!



Don't cry, mama is here.

[Sisimka]

"...and yet here you are. A Grey Warden, like your mother, and King, like your father. The Maker has a sense of humor after all." - My favourite line!



Wonderful chapter! Al has always wanted a family!

[Freckles04]

Sisimka wrote...

"...and yet here you are. A Grey Warden, like your mother, and King, like your father. The Maker has a sense of humor after all." - My favourite line!

Wonderful chapter! Al has always wanted a family!

Thanks, Sisi. In writing that line, it kind of cemented into my head that Alistair HAS to be Fiona's son. It's just too perfect.

[Freckles04]

Palentor wrote...

A most wonderful chapter, with an interesting placement of Duncan.
And I humbly beg for your apologies if I am mistaken, but I dare to think that there is a sprinkle of Star Wars in it.

Well...not intentionally...but I wouldn't be surprised if something snuck out of my subconscious....

[Sandtigress]

Um,  awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.............

[Palentor]

Or probably my subconcious input-filtering.

It was in no way or form meant as negative critizism, but rather as a most favourable comparison with an other great story of interpersonal realtions/connections I liked.