I own nothing of the Dragon Age universe, except Verthandi and "Ziffaniel".
The first sign something was different was the clue and silver banners on the horizon two hours after dawn… Maybe a procession of the Bannorn? Some new human festival? They had too many for Verthandi Mahariel to keep track of, but if it was a festival, there would be drinking and much merry-making, and tomorrow her little stone cottage would be packed with over enthusiastic revelers begging her aid to mend cracked skulls, scrapes, and maybe a sprain or two.
The older dalish woman sighed, returning to her clothesline. The wet laundry would not hang itself much as she wanted it to. When this was done, she would have to head to the forest to gather herbs, check the traps, and so on. It was a quiet life, even if it wasn't compared to the screaming nights and endless battles of her Warden days, and she loved it. She could see herself living out her days here in near solitude, keeping her part of the Brecilian forest and acting as healer for the minor villages nearby.
She was feeding the pair of horses and lone halla in her pasture when she felt rather than heard the throbbing hoofbeats racing up the road towards her cottage. Horsemen, and... a cart, maybe? So strange... it was too early in the season for traders to pass by, and it seemed urgent as well. Maybe an accident in the fields? It would explain the urgency in the horses' pace. She quickly finished feeding her animals and ran back to her cottage. She would feel foolish if she was mistaken, but she would rather be mistaken but prepared than risk a life to protect her image.
She had just enough time to clear the table and braid her hair back before she heard the thunder hooves at the road, set far back from her cottage. She finished washing up her hands before throwing the door wide open and trotting outside to meet whoever was visiting so early in the morning.
She could see a carriage on the road, not a cart, flanked by guardsmen astride lean horses bred for their speed and endurance blocking the narrow dirt road up to her cottage. She approached slowly, glancing at the coat of arms on the banners but not recognizing the symbol. It looked like a strange bird attacking a cat of some kind, but it was hard to tell when the banners were at rest. The colors were familiar though, blue and silver... but aside from seeing them at dawn, she couldn't place them.
"You must forgive me, my lord, if I do not recognize your banner. May I know who is calling on me?" She stepped closer, wiping her hands nervously on the apron tied to her waist as she watched the carriage door and guardsmen suspiciously. another upstart bann taking offense to an elf holding land?
"It hasn't been that long, has it Andi? You already forgot my name... where's that dalish memory I always heard about?"
That voice, branded into her heart so she could never forget it, called to her from the depths of the carriage. That was no bird attacking a cat, it was a rampant griffon with wings outstretched. Blue and silver... the colors of the Wardens since he would not share the Theirin seal or colors. It could not be, after all this time... no!
A guardsman opened the carriage door, and the man she saw in the carriage stopped her blood cold and widened her eyes with shock.
"I know its been a while, Andi, but I remembered you as a more spirited woman in our Warden days. Come, all this silence is unnverving---"
"You are unwelcome here human. I demand you leave this instant!" She ripped the apron off in a single, fluid motion and pointed back the way he came. Her face was a mask of anger and hate, furrowing her tattooed forehead as she glared at the king, a man she once called lover.
Alistair.
"How dare you speak to the king like that, you insolent little knife-ear!" The guardsman nearest her started to raise his hand to her, presumably to retaliate, but she did not let him get that far. Before his hand was even raised, a small knife had found its way to hers. When he went to strike her, she pressed the edge softly to his neck.
"You try my patience, human. I will demand again, leave my property, or do you have no love for those whom serve you?" Her words were bitter, stone gray eyes dark while the brighter amber flecks seethed with anger.
"I'm sorry Andi, he was out of line. I only wanted to see you again... its been fifteen years." She wouldn't look at him, because seeing those eyes with that tone of voice would be her undoing.
"Then talk! I have no time or patience for shems who will not leave when they are asked to." Verthandi took the knife from the guard's neck, turning her back on them as she slipped the knife back into its hiding place in the sleeve of the leather top. She folded the apron and tied it back in place around her waist, making it clear she would not even grace him with her gaze.
"It's been a long trip Andi---"
"Lady Verthandi Maharial is my name human. You lost the rights to call me anything else long ago." She folded her arms across her chest and turned slightly to continue glaring at him over one shoulder.
Alistair sighed, frowning as he stared back at the elf. He'd known she wouldn't be, happy to see him. But he didn't think she would be so angry with him still, after fifteen years without any contact what so ever. Maybe that was why she was so angry! She had probably expected him to visit much sooner.
"I'm sorry, Lady, I did not mean to insult you." She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. Alistair almost never apologized in a serious tone, unless he wanted something. "May I impose on you further and ask for your hospitality?"
She sighed, lower her arms and abruptly walking up the long road back to her cottage. "As you wish. But they must stay at the road. They will scare the animals." She didn't wait to argue. those were her terms, and if he did not wish to accept them, he could simply leave.
Verthandi left the door open when she returned, knowing her luck would not be so great she could avoid this whole encounter. She returned the flower vase to the table, returning poultices and salves to their places in the cabinets. It was as she was starting to prepare her breakfast when the once unwilling king entered her stonework cottage.
"Somehow this isn't how I pictured you spending your days." Alistair said as he hesitated at the doorstep, peering in before finally stepping into the kitchen.
"Close the door. And how did you picture me 'spending my days'? Waiting in the Denerim alienage for you to call on me? I heard the whispers in the court Alistair." Verthandi had taken out a knife and a cutting board, and began peeling some fruit on the counter beneath a window overlooking the pasture.
"That's not what I meant Andi, and you know it."
"Verthandi!" She sharply corrected, missing the fruit and nearly catching her thumb instead. "I was not idly posturing for your guards." Her words were still sour.
He sighed, watching her back. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her. He suspected however, if he got within a few paces of her, he would likely lose a hand or find that knife somewhere in his arm. "What happened, Verthandi?"
She paused for a few moments, chopping the peeled fruit into smaller pieces.
"Nothing happened. You simply became king, Alistair."
"You make it sound as if I had died."
"You did die, to me, when you acted as if our love suddenly didn't matter, because the nobles didn't approve." She was almost snarling, the words burning when they hit open air. "I was good enough to die for them, but not good enough to love you, to be with you." The elf gathered the cut fruit and mixed them in a bowl almost savagely. He recognized that bitter, almost evil smile on her face. She'd worn it when she betrayed Anora's trust at the landsmeet and declared herself Alistair's champion. "How is that quest for a child going anyway, Alistair? I heard your new wife will lay with everyone but you."
He didn't remember crossing the room or grabbing her shoulder to spin her to face him. He didn't remember her ever dropping the knife but when she tried to shield her face it was gone. He only remembered raising his hand to strike her just as his guard had tried. Verthandi flinched away from the hesitant hand for just a heartbeat, not expecting him to react so violently to her cruel jab. When she realized what she was doing, she roughly pushed him off. "Humans... so quick to resort with violence to a minor verbal dispute."
"And you overstep your bounds!"
She turned back to the bowl, crushing nuts with the flat of her knife. "And you were such a fool. If I wanted that whore on the throne I would have allowed her to remain queen rather than name you King."
This infernal woman was trying to drive him to violence. Her silver tongue must have grown barbed over the years, and unless he calmed down it was likely he would grab her again. He sighed, going to the far side of the table and sitting down to watch her back. She'd retained the body she'd had so long ago, whether it was just the active semi-dalish lifestyle she led or if it was something else, he was glad for it.
"Its not like I had much of a choice."
She slammed the knife into the wood of the cutting board suddenly, burying the blade so deeply it stood upright without her hand. She turned on him then, planting her palms on the smooth wood and leaning over the table to glare at him angrily. "You were KING, Alistair! King! No one could ever force you to do something you did not want to do! But you buckled! Like a weak kneed child, you broke! Further, you joined with that WHORE I worked so hard to dethrone!"
He slammed his fists to the table and jumped up, his face just inches from hers. If she wanted a fight, by the Maker--
"Mother?"
They both froze, leaned over the table looking as if they were about to tear out the other's throat. It was Verthandi who looked away first, her face transformed from vicious hunter to something much softer, something far more kind.
"Ah--,... Ziffaniel, what are you doing home so early? I thought you were training with the clan and Master Ilen today... you were not to be home until an hour before dark."
The young woman was small, even for an elf. Her strange orange hair was a perfect match for Verthandi's vibrant waves, but her eyes were a hazel more green than light brown. She had her mother's features, but there was also something, quite familiar about her.
She grinned bashfully, leaning her unstrung bow against the wall near the door and tucking the light pack beneath it. "I was... but I fell in the forest and master said I should return home."
"Did he now... I hardly think Ilen would send you home because of a tumble." She stood up and smoothed her apron, motioning to the chair nearest her. "Come then, let's have a look."
Ziffaniel hestitated, looking nervously at Alistair then Verthandi. "Well... I did get scraped, on my cheek--" She unconsciously ran her fingers over the scrape on her face before sitting down in the chair, carefully avoiding her mother's playfully suspicious eyes.
"I see! And how strange, a matching bruised eye." She murmured, leaning down and tenderly examining the girl's face. She turned to the cabinets and pulled down some salve. "This forest you tumbled into, was his name Ashel?"
"I only hit him because he called me a--!"
"Shh, its alright Ziffaniel. We'll practice archery together once Lord Alistair departs, to make up for the lost day. But for now, take this and eat with the halla in the pasture! The more time you spend with him, the deeper the bond." She spread some of the clean smelling mixture over the scrape placed a sticky piece of linen bandage over it before giving her a portion of the nut-fruit mixture.
Alistair sat back down, suddenly very interested in the wooden table while Ziffaniel cast one more curious look at him, then she was gone again.
"Is she... is she yours? From you, I mean."
She turned away from him again, leaning against the counter and staring out at the pasture. She was trying to avoid the question, but he wouldn't say anything more until she finally answered him. "She is of my body and blood, yes."
"Who's the father? When, when did you? I thought... you told me that the dalish..." he struggled to find a word without sounding vulgar, "I thought your people bonded only with, one person."
There was that bitter, poisoned smile again. "No, she's not yours. Zevran is her father. I found comfort in his arms the night after the final battle of Denerim."
Something close to pain crossed over his face before fading. "You must be, very happy."
She nodded. "Did you expect me to remain faithful only to you Alistair? After you ended things between us? I was to wait for you until I died?"
"No. I suppose not."
She looked at him then, the mask of hate falling away to expose the pain underneath. "I'm really sorry, Alistair."
"You have nothing to be sorry for." She shook her head once to either side. "I am sorry, for the way things went between us. How they must be between us."
"Heh. I should be apologizing to you, you know. Not the other way around." He smiled softly, standing up. "Well, now that we've got all that hostility out of the way, I think its high time I left you to your animals and, what was her name? Ziffaniel?"
Verthandi looked away, hiding her eyes as if she were ashamed. "...Yes. Her name is Ziffaniel. But Alistair, you've only just arrived-- must you really leave so soon?" She was suddenly looking at him with the full weight of her gray eyes, asking a silent plea. She was angry at him, yes, and she probably would be for the rest of her life. But, that didn't mean she didn't want to see him ever again. That was why she had struck that bargain with Morrigan.
"I would stay longer, if I could... but I was only here on court business. The villagers were talking of the elf warden in the hills. I mean, how many of you can there be right?" He sighed. He both hated and loved that look. It meant he selfishly still held a piece of her heart, but... he wished he didn't. He was happy to think she had moved on, because in some small way it helped him move on. The fact she hadn't, and that it hurt her so to see him go, wounded his own heart. "I need to get back to the capital. To Denerim, before the whole of Ferelden falls apart without me to poke more holes in it, you know."
"I... I understand." Her expression flinched for a fraction of a second, and if he had blinked at the wrong time he would have missed it. But there was her stony mask, firmly in place. More firmly, he suspected.
Alistair stepped forward, as if he was going to hug her, to try and make it easier, but she stepped away. "It was, good to see you again Alistair. Let's just leave it at that."
He frowned, but nodded. She was right. She was always right. "I'll send you letters. If you'll receive them."
Verthandi nodded. "Of course."
The once-unwilling king stepped out of the door, catching a glimpse at Ziffaniel as she huddled, hunched over next to the door. She gave him a surprised look, her eyes darting between him and the door he had just left through. She was, adorable to say the least, looking so conspicuously inconspicuous. He smiled at her, winking and pointing back at the door. "I don't think she noticed."
Ziffaniel smiled shyly at him, waving as he walked down the path back to his carriage. She waited a few minutes, crouched next to the door, to try and organize her thoughts and reanalyze the conversation she'd just heard in the house. When she felt secure, she stood up and walked into the cottage with more confidence than she truly felt.
"Mother? Who was that shemlen?"
"Hush with that crude word little one. He is the king of our lands." Her mother was seated in the chair Alistair had used. Her eyes had that weathered, distant look she always had when she was 'thinking of the better older days'. That old, preserved rose was on the table again, but the woman didn't dare touch it.
Ziffaniel sat down across from her mother at the table. If she was to get answers, now was as good a time as any: when Verthandi was lost in memories she would never share. Her tongue was looser, something she would need to get through this gentle interrogation.
"When the king was here, Mother," She reached a hand out to nudge the old rose with a finger, "Why did you call me by my elvhen name? And... why did you tell him uncle Zevran is my father? I thought you said father was, human."
"Because, Alisa. That man is your father."