A/N: Had this one in my head for a while now, if you wish it to continue shoot me a review. Hope you like it.
The Children of a King
Chapter 1: Help
There is nothing more we can do, Your Majesty. The boy shall either recover or he will not."
It was with those words that the healers had left the palace two years ago. King Alistair Theirin, Hero of the Blight, First of his Name, and many more titles than he liked to think about, made his way down the corridors of the palace, back towards the royal apartments.
The king sighed.
He had to try something, he had promised Allegra that much. For months they had watched as their son had slowly become a stranger.
Tonight, Alistair had finally decided to try something new, try it, and hope for the best.
As he made his way down the hall, he found himself drawn to the noises coming in through a small window; he glanced outside to see a small company of Inquisition troops drilling down in the courtyard.
The sight made him feel a little better.
There had been many on the royal court who had not wanted Inquisition troops stationed in Denerim, much less the palace. Foreign soldiers had no place here in the capital, they had said. The one problem with that was that every man and woman that the Inquisition had sent here had all been Ferelden born. His old friend Leliana had understood the lords' fears and had planned accordingly.
Plus, he thought, if it was not for the Inquisition my son would have died at the hands of those Venatori bastards that had snuck into the palace, over a year ago. If he did not feel indebted to the Inquisition for that, he would not have been much of a man, much less a king.
They had tried, and they had saved Anthony's life, what had happened during the attack, and since, that wasn't their fault, it wasn't anyone's fault, except for the Venatori, and they were all dead.
The Inquisition had given Anthony a chance, now Alistair had to make sure that his son made the best of it.
He watched them for a few moments before heading on. He noticed how small the garrison had grown in the last year, once there had been enough Inquisition troops to fill the courtyard, now they barely filled one corner.
Their time is ending, he had been hearing enough chatter from the lords and merchants to know that. There was talk of calling a grand meeting, a conclave to discuss the future of the Inquisition. The Venatori threat was over, and with the breach sealed, most nobles wished the Inquisition to either give up some of their power or disband entirely.
In the end, that would be a decision left to the Inquisitor. Alistair had faith in the man, Leliana spoke highly of him, and despite the growing coldness his old companion had shown, he still trusted her counsel.
Whatever became of the Inquisition, he would be grateful, they had protected his family, his children.
He would never forget that.
Alistair continued on his way, his thoughts returning once again to the task before him. On the surface it should not have been hard. In practice well…
He frowned.
In practice he would have felt more comfortable fighting another Archdemon. Monster and demons, he could deal with that.
Teenagers, that was another threat entirely.
The thought almost made him chuckle.
When had it happened, he thought to himself, when had his little ones suddenly turned into teenagers? It had seemed like only yesterday that he had held them in his arms as the healers had first pulled them from their mother, and only this morning that they were toddlers following him around trying to get his attention.
How time had flown, he thought…
How quickly the end was coming.
About three years ago, he had pulled his old friend Alim Surana aside. The elven mage had remained one of his most loyal counsellors, despite his failing emotional state.
The sight had saddened Alistair, every year Alim was growing more and more erratic, while Alistair remained…unchanged.
Why?
The first thing that they had discussed was the children. As a warden, Alistair should have had no easy time siring heirs, yet his marriage to Allegra of Nevarra had proved more than bountiful. His queen had given him five healthy children.
It was something that Alistair did not understand.
How was it possible?
He was still tainted was he not?
Alim had giggled that half-mad giggle that worried so many at court.
He had given his old companion a mad cap grin.
"I have a few theories about that, Allie" the elven mage had admitted, "You might be able to help when the time comes. Help the wardens with the taint, or so the whispers lead me to believe. Rumors Allie, so many tales to be told, whispers, wonders, rumors, and trysts in dark places."
The elf giggled again.
"It is all in the blood Alistair, the blood, the blood, the blood. Theirin blood will tell, it will tell, Theirin blood mixed with…something else."
"Something else, what else, Lim?" the king had asked.
Alim's elven ears had twitched.
"Rumors of blood, blood tainted, so tainted that it could not be tainted again, blood so dark it turned red again, and again, and again, and again, It…the blood…it…it…hmmm."
The elf had blinked then, his expression turned confused.
He looked back on his friend.
"What was I saying, Allie?"
That had been the last time they had spoken. Alim had left the capital, and had not returned since.
Alistair worried about his old friend, his warden brother.
He was not well, and probably would not be getting any better.
I can do nothing for Alim, he thought, perhaps I can still do something for Anthony.
Less than a year after they had married, Allegra Theirin had given him son. Their crown prince, and heir, their little Duncan, the realm had rejoiced when he had been born. His brother Cailan had never been able to accomplish that, despite being married for five years, he and Anora had never been blessed with a child. A few months later, Allegra had gotten pregnant again, this time with Anthony, a spare to go with the heir, and again the realm had rejoiced. Three more children would follow, two girls and another boy, but it was Duncan and Anthony that the kingdom had dotted on.
Duncan was a brave young man, handsome, charming, and smart, even as a boy he had been so eager to know everything. He attended Alistair at meetings of the council and the court. When he was old enough he had started training with the master at arms. He wanted to be a warrior king that Ferelden could be proud of; he wanted to be like his father.
Prince Duncan the daring the people started calling him.
Anthony was…well he was Anthony.
He was far more slender than his brother, still athletic, but not so quick to dive in without checking the water first. He favored his mother more than Alistair, in his features at least. Andy was more thoughtful than Dunk, yet put a sword in his hand, and he was the equal of his brother, perhaps even better. Duncan was all fire, Andy was equal parts fire and ice, their master of arms had said so. Prince Anthony had the potential to be one of the finest blades in Ferelden. Inspired by that praise, the boy had studied almost daily with the sword master, becoming best friends with the man's son Kyle. The two had become almost brothers themselves. Then…then…
Alistair frowned.
Then the Venatori had come. There lord and god had died years earlier, but they had continued to fight on. They had been hunted to near extinction by the Inquisition, Leliana had assured all that it was only a matter of time until the Venatori faded into memory, but if they were going to fall, they intended to fall spectacularly, taking as many with them as they could. They had tried to harm the royal family.
Alistair remembered running down the hall, alarm bells ringing in his ears, sword in hand, royal guard and Inquisition soldiers moving at his side. They had arrived to find a room splattered with blood. Anthony on his knees, the boy's eyes were wild, as he murmured under his breath. He just sat there, staring at his hands, hands coated in wet crimson.
That had been almost two years ago. So many healers had come and went during that time. They had tried to keep what had happened quiet, but no one could stop the servants from talking.
Four dead and all by the prince's hand.
The mages had driven the boy mad
He killed his best friend and laughed while doing it.
The boy was mad now.
How sad for the king and queen.
Prince Anthony the mad.
The Broken Prince.
Anthony the Unlucky.
He had only just turned twelve, yet overnight the boy had turned into an old man, broken and haggard.
The king and queen had been unable to help him, and the rumors continued to spread.
Alistair had heard those rumors, and had done all he could to stop them. What had happened when Anthony had been confronted by the Venatori had been a tragedy.
It had not been his fault, no matter how badly he felt about it.
After that, their son had drifted away, slowly. He wore only black, and would stay in his room for days, mourning the deaths of Kyle and the others. He grew even slimmer, and feared to even look at a sword again.
Every year the prince became more and more distant, and the healers were having no luck in treating him, it was a sickness of the mind, they said, not the body.
The mind was not so easily healed.
Their son had not left the palace in almost two years, the longer he stayed here, the more the queen feared that he would never leave, that one day he would just stop eating give up and die in his room.
Allegra was determined not to let that happen.
She intended to save their son.
Dunk was about to turn fifteen, he had asked Arl Teagan if he and some of his friends could spend a few weeks at the summer estate south of Redcliffe. The estate had only just been returned to his control by the Inquisition who had taken it from an outlaw band early in their war against the Venatori. The small castle had been fully upgraded since, and now, with the Inquisition's power waning; it had fallen back into Teagan's hands. The Arl was willing, but would not say yes without the king and queen's permission.
Last night, as they lay in bed, the two monarchs had discussed it.
"Do you think Dunk is ready?" Alistair had asked his wife.
Allegra sighed, resting her head on her husband's chest.
"Is he ready to be travelling on his own? Perhaps," she answered, "He has been as good as gold since that business in the merchant's district."
Alistair frowned.
He had been away during that little fiasco; Allegra had dealt with it, and had disciplined the children appropriately. Dunk and his friends had been quiet since, perhaps they had paid appropriate penance.
Still, he was not sure.
Allegra shifted slightly, resting her chin on his chest.
"He is not a little boy anymore Alistair, we need to give him some space."
The king gave her a sheepish look.
"Can't we just find some mage to stop him from aging, or better yet, turn the clock back; Dunk was always easier to manage when he was little."
The queen laughed lightly.
"I'm afraid that is not an option," she said.
"Damn," he said.
She laughed again.
"All parents worry Alistair," she said, "Yet we are not like most parents. Duncan is not just our son; he is heir to the throne, and nearly a man grown, at least in the eyes of the people. Chancellor Eamon came to me again yesterday…"
Alistair groaned.
Eamon had spent the last two years trying to convince him to betroth his daughter Rowan to Dunk. A good match most would believe, yet Alistair was not sure how his son would react.
Rowan was one of his friends, but that did not mean that he wanted to wed and bed her. It might have been good for the realm, but that did not mean that it was good for his son.
"We should give the children a chance to get out on their own, see what they want," Allegra advised, "Given them a chance to experience life."
Alistair brow furrowed.
"That is what I'm afraid of," he said.
"They will have a chaperone with them of course. Maker knows; Tessio and Felina are not to be trusted on their own.
Tessio and Felina were the twin son and daughter of the Antivan Ambassador, and had been a part of Duncan's circle of friends for almost four years. Dark haired and wild eyed both were the children of Ambassador Rialto.
Little trouble makers is what they were.
"Should we feel sorry of the chaperone?" he asked his wife.
"Probably," she said dryly.
Alistair sighed and leaned back.
"So we say yes," he said.
"We do," his wife said, "with one condition."
Alistair gave her an arched look.
"We tell them that they have to take Anthony along."
The king frowned.
"He won't go," he said, "We both know that he will say no."
"He might not," Allegra said, "if he knew who else was going."
Alistair gave her a curious look.
"Who?" he asked.
The queen gave him a sly smile.
"Let just say, I've noticed something of late, maybe it will help, maybe not, but we have to try something."
The king nodded.
"It is worth a shot I suppose."
The queen sighed and snuggled closer to her husband.
"It couldn't hurt.
IOI
Alistair stood before his second born son's door, his hand paused mid-knock.
Just do it, he thought, tell him that you are allowing Dunk and the others to spend some time away from the capital, and that he should go with them, it is that simple.
The king sighed.
And if he says no, when he says no, remind him that it won't just be Dunk and his friends, remind him that she is going.
Alistair frowned.
Why she would make any difference, he did not know. As far as he knew Anthony had barely spoken to her, in fact he had barely spoken to anyone.
The boy might have been fourteen, but he acted like his was ancient.
The King sighed again.
They knew each other, which was about it; at least that is what he thought.
Why would she make any difference?
Of course, what choice did he have? Taking a chance was better than sitting back and doing nothing while his son withered away like some flower in a dark corner.
It was like Allegra had said, it could not hurt.
In the end it was all up to Anthony.
Anthony and Alindra Nightingale.
Alindra, daughter of the Alim and Leliana.
Alistair shook his head.
Sweet Andraste guide them.