Ch. 1; A Birthday of Sorts

"Rise and shine my lord." Feeling a soft tug at his blanket, Aiden grunted loudly. He recognized the voice as that of his eleven nursemaid Hahna. She had this awful habit of expecting him to wake up in the morning. Pulling his covers over his head he tried to block her out.

"Go away, Hahna." He mumbled from under the blanket. It must have been later than he was normally woken up judging on how light his room was.

"Time to wake up, your majesty." She said again loudly. Feeling a soft pinch at the bottom of his covers Hahna pulled them clean off. Aiden groaned as the chill of the morning air hit him suddenly. "Today is a truly special day my lord." Rolling over onto his back he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"It's the same as any other day Hahna." He mused still staring blankly.

"My lord!" Hahna exclaimed in a loud disapproving tone. She had a way of saying things that could be of use to anyone in the Chantry to get members to church; guilt was talent she had an amazing grasp on. "Today, is not simply another day. Today is your twentieth birthday. Now, your father is waiting for you in the throne room. I suggest," pausing she put extreme emphasis in her words, "you rise, dress and not keep him waiting for too long."

Sitting up Aiden grumbled a loud complaint before getting up to do as instructed. For ten years Hahna had been the most mother like figure in his life and she treated him like her child, despite having two grown children of her own.

Heading down towards the throne room there wasn't a guard or servant he encountered who didn't wish him a happy birthday. He got more attention on his birthday than any other day of the year, which didn't please him much. Aiden hated being the center of attention even more than his father. Normally he could slip around the castle without drawing notice to himself but today it was like the palace staff was on the lookout and Maker forbid they didn't wish him a happy birthday. When he was thirteen he was convinced his father had put out a decree that anyone who didn't would be beheaded. He later found out that this wasn't the case but he had wished they'd done it out of fear over generic care for another day. Pushing open the great door to the throne room he poked his head inside to find his father speaking with Bann Teagan. Aiden always liked when Teagan would visit, which was often enough, because he distracted his father. This meant Aiden was free to do more of what he wanted and less learning how to be king. Slipping into the throne room and behind a giant plant Aiden couldn't help but listen into their conversation.

"Have we heard any good news Teagan?" His father asked focusing on one of the portraits hanging on the wall.

"None I'm afraid, your majesty." Pausing Aiden could see him make an uncomfortable face before continuing with the bad news. "However, if we cannot settle this trade embargo the people of Fereldan will start to suffer."

"Of course, couldn't possible have any fancy parties without the proper Orlesian cheeses." Letting out a sigh, Teagan rubbed his brow.

"It's not about the cheeses, your highness. It's much more about the fact Orlais is overstepping their boundaries. If this keeps up, someone will start to call for war."

"A call I will not answer unless given a reason." His father shot back. "And some smelly cheese and fancy silk is not a reason to risk war." Feeling the tension rise between the two men Aiden made the decision to end the conversation. Stepping out from behind his plant, he did his best to catch his father's attention.

"Alistair I implore you to nip this in the bud befor-" Noticing Aiden, Alistair cut him off.

"Right, you and I can talk about that later. Now I have more important business to attend to." Making his way to Aiden, Teagan's frustration could be felt as hot as a fire.

"Of course, my lord. I shall be in the study. Happy Birthday Prince Aiden." Nodding in response, he watched as his Uncle left the throne room.

"Trouble in the kingdom?" Aiden asked forcing a smile to lighten the mood.

"Nothing to worry about. Just the nobility getting cranky over cheese." Letting out a soft 'Ah' he kept smiling. "I hope Hahna didn't wake up you to early."

"No of course not Father. I love getting woken from sleep by cold morning air." He returned. Giving a little chuckle in response Alistair shook his head.

"Oh good then. Glad your birthday is starting off on the right foot."

"Hahna said you wanted to see me?" Aiden asked attempting to get the conversation back on track. While it seemed like grand fun to banter back and forth with his father all day he hoped to disappear to some unknown part of the palace to hide.

"Right, right. I have a long day planned but I wanted to start by giving you a present." Walking away from him Aiden watched curiously as his father called over a servant, whispered something to him, and grinned while the servant ran off. Raising a brow at him Alistair only responded by holding up his hand in a 'wait for it' motion. It didn't take long for the servant to return carrying a finely crafted sword and shield. "I had these commissioned for your twentieth birthday."

Taking the sword and shield from the man Aiden nodded a thank you. Gripping the handle with his right hand he gave the sword a few strong swings while holding the shield tightly up with his left. Both the sword and shield were light but clearly strong and sharp. The shield bore the Theirin crest in a beautiful golden color. "I….don't know what to say Father." Aiden finally managed to get out. "These, are amazing."

"Oh good, you like them." Alistair said with relief. "I was a bit worried you'd hate it."

"How could I hate something so….beautifully crafted?" Aiden responded throwing the shield on his back and placing the sword in its sheath. Weaponry was something that always fascinated Aiden. How someone could take such simple materials and craft them into such beautiful things always amazed him.

"There was supposed to be armor with it, but Master Wade apparently got sick so it'll be a bit delayed. Though I have hard time believing his illness is anything other than boredom." His father answered cracking a smile.

"Don't worry about it Father, these are more than enough." Looking towards the wall at a great portrait a question bubbled up from Aiden's mind. Part of him didn't want to ask it and ruin this moment but another piece of him desperately wanted an answer. Finally the question got the better of him and he felt it slip out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Father, what of Mother? Has….has there been no news?" Watching his father's face fall he regretted the question immediately.

"No, Aiden…There hasn't." He answered softly. This was the only subject that could make his normally happy go lucky father turn stone cold.

"But, it's been ten years." Aiden protested. He wasn't sure why he was bringing this up now. He knew the answer was going to be no, he knew this conversation would hurt his father. But a piece of him didn't care, he wanted answers. After ten years of his mother being gone without a trace he wanted, no he deserved answers. "Surely, someone somewhere has heard of her."

"I said no Aiden." His father continued softly.

"That's ridiculous! Surely if we sent out decent trackers, or a search team…or…or an army, someone would know something!" By now Aiden was shouting at his father. He wasn't sure why was bringing this up; it was the same answer every year. It wasn't his father's fault but he blamed him all the same. "You just don't want to find her!" He finally spat. Seeing a wave of hurt sweep across his father's face Aiden regretted the words so deeply.

"You don't think I haven't looked for her? You don't think if I had even an idea about where she would have gone I wouldn't send Fereldan's armies to bring her home?" He asked his voice dripping with pain. "I would Aiden, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I have no idea where she is. Don't think I don't miss her more with every moment that passes." Looking into his father's face Aiden could see how much he missed her written across it.

"I…..I'm….I'm sorry Father." He mumbled softly looking down at the floor. He was so wrong to accuse his father of what he just did. He didn't even know why he did it, he just did. Softening his expression, Alistair sighed in a low soft tone.

"It's…it's fine." Placing a comforting hand on his son's shoulder he forced a smile, "Now I must get back to Bann Teagan before his head explodes with frustration. Enjoy the rest of your day son. Stay out of trouble."

Leaving Aiden in the throne room alone it was many moments before he could bring himself to look up again. He had been such a spoiled brat right then. More so than ever before and he didn't even know why. He shouldn't have brought up his mother, not today of all days. Sighing loudly he managed to look up at the large family portrait that hung in the throne room. It was the only one of his whole family and where he looked when needed comfort. When he was much younger there would be nights he'd sneak out of his room and lay under the painting staring up at his mother's face for hours. He was five when it was commissioned and he remembered becoming extremely fidgety about half way through but not wanting to squirm and gain a disapproving look from his mother. Sitting down under it he stared at each detail, starting with her. She was standing tall and proud behind him. A beautiful green gown embellished with golden stitching in the design of leaves decorated the sides. The sleeves were a light green lace that seemed to flow gracefully around her small arms even in the painting. The whole dress seemed to cling to her delicate frame almost flawlessly. Around his mother's neck was a small silver locket; something that he'd always known her to wear. Moving from her dress he stared up into her face. It was soft, kind and understanding, but had an air of true confidence no one could match. It showed a woman who had seen far more than she'd wanted to in her life time. A light smile played on her pink lips. Her eyes were a brilliant dark green, a trait he'd been given himself. Even from the portrait he could see the years of learning at the Tower, a great deal of pain, and great deal of knowledge in them. Her dark hair was tinted with soft pink streaks, a freak accident as a teen in the tower as she told the story, and was pulled back away from her face into a soft bun so common among Fereldan's nobility. If one had not known she was mage already this painting did not give away her secret. Here she looked like the confidant leader of Fereldan's Grey Warden's, Chancellor to the Royal Court, mother of Fereldan's only prince, and true love of Fereldan's king. Thinking for a moment he made a face. Perhaps it was not so much that the painting showed those things (though the artist was incredible) more his own memory of her.

Moving away from his mother he turned his gaze to his father. When the painting was done he was about fifteen years younger and it showed. He still had the same boyish charm, that same goofy grin (a trait Aiden had inherited from him apart from his hair), that same air of duty and protection. He was beaming in the picture with one hand on Aiden's own little shoulder, the other wrapped in a loving but protective embrace around his mother's waist. He looked truly happy; a look Aiden hadn't seen on his father's face for ten long years. Aiden was standing in front of the two smiling brightly. He looked so much like his father despite having his mother's eyes and certain softness that came with an odd…..humanistic understanding of the world which she shared too. They were happy together, truly happy. Closing his eyes Aiden tried desperately to recall that last night with his mother. She'd tucked him in, sang him a lullaby (though poorly because she couldn't carry a tune), kissed him goodnight and was gone in the morning. Opening his eyes slowly an idea began to churn in his mind. What if he found her? He could do it, just retrace her steps. Maybe he could find old Warden Documents about her location and use those, if they'd give them to him. Or perhaps track down her old companions and use them to find her. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. Surely he was old enough to adventure Fereldan and capable enough. He was after all a decent fighter. Standing up quickly his face had spilt wide into a smile.

"I'm going to find her." He said abruptly like the thought had just spilled out of his head. "I'm going to find you, Mother." Looking up at the painting he nodded at it. He would find and bring her home.