This is my first attempt at a 'proper' long fanfic. The gorgeous people at the BSN Anders and Nathaniel Howe fan threads are responsible for giving me the confidence to try. This is also my first real attempt at writing an 'Alistair centric' story. The basic premise came out of a question I asked on BSN that was never answered to my satisfaction. "What would happen if Fiona really was Alistair's mother and everyone found out about it?" Hopefully my answer to that question provides some entertainment and not too much frustration ;-)
Background to the setting. This is set in the same universe as my "The first" prompt. From an Origins perspective you're dealing with - Alistair and Anora are married and ruling, Loghain took the final blow on the AD and died a hero, Circle annulled, Werewolf curse lifted, ashes pinched but not defiled and Redcliffe village saved. For Awakenings - the Warden from Origins did not take the appointment which was given to an Orlesian warden, everyone recruited, Amaranthine saved, Architect killed. At the time when this story takes place my other fics are finished and Nate is Warden Commander. Hopefully that gives a decent entry point for the story.
All characters, settings and such belong to Bioware. Any mistakes are mine.
"One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which tells us the way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life:
'Tis the set of the soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife."
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
. . .
There was a time when this news would have given Anora nothing but happiness. The perfect tool to use in her quest for the crown. Another time, another life perhaps. Not this time and not this life.
She'd very reluctantly married Alistair at the urging of the Grey Warden Caethes. It had seemed the sensible thing to do. Her doubts about Alistair's ability to rule had faded with time, while he still had that distressing tendency to treat things with levity, he seemed to know when to be serious. He'd proven himself an able student in the art of politics and a satisfactory husband. Very unlike Cailan.
Glancing down at the message, Anora nodded to the courier. "You're dismissed. See that no one hears of this." The threat was implied but understood. He dipped a deep bow and almost ran out of the audience chamber.
Anora nodded to a guard who bowed and came to stand a few steps away. "I need a message taken to Vigil's Keep near Amaranthine. Wait while I write it then send a messenger. It must done quickly."
"Yes, your majesty."
Moving to her desk Anora wrote as much as she dared and after folding the note carefully, applied her personal seal.
"See that this is given only into the hands of Nathaniel Howe. Only him, do you understand me?"
"Yes, your majesty."
After bowing, the guard strode quickly out to do as he'd been instructed.
There was no hope of keeping it secret. The message was clear in that respect. The news had come from the Bannorn. Even if Teagan was sincere in his wish to avoid conflict, it seemed unlikely others would share his views.
How she'd have laughed if told that day at the Landsmeet, that one day, she'd find herself reluctant to do the very thing that would guarantee her the crown.
Walking slowly, Anora thought about her husband. That still sounded so odd. Her husband. Alistair had given her none of the feelings Cailan had, she didn't love him and had never expected to. Nor did he love her. They'd both been clear on that.
They'd shared a bed only once, on their wedding night. Neither of them had wished to repeat the experience. It had been pleasant enough, if a little embarrassing, particularly for poor Alistair. Much to Anora's surprise he'd not taken a mistress, even at her urging to do so. His reaction when she'd suggested it could still make her smile. She assumed his Chantry training was responsible for his moral outrage.
No she didn't love him, not in the way a wife should, but Anora felt no shame in admitting that if she'd had a child, she'd love that child in the same way she'd come to love her husband. Given a choice she'd protect him from this. It was going to cause him pain. The knowledge that he'd been lied to by those he trusted most was going to break his heart. His still so soft and tender heart. Mother-like she wanted to stand between him and the oncoming storm. With that clarity of sight that her father had often admired, Anora knew she couldn't.
The best she could do for her husband was to tell him now and give him the best possible chance to escape. Before the Landsmeet could gather to call for his head. The temptation to slow her steps was strong but if Anora knew nothing else, she knew her duty. To her country and to her husband.
After taking a moment to steady herself, she tapped lightly on the door to Alistair's rooms and waited.
Preoccupied with fastening his armour, Alistair barely glanced up at the knock. "Come in!"
The sound of Anora's voice startled him. It wasn't her usual habit to visit his bedroom. That in itself was enough to tell him whatever she wanted was urgent.
"Problem my dear?"
Anora waved the servant out. "Wait outside." She'd need him soon to fetch Alistair's armour. Not this ceremonial armour he was donning, but his real armour. "I need a moment Alistair."
"Of course. Anything you need." She was distressed about something. Usually Anora had complete control over her expressions, so the very fact that he could tell she was upset, was disturbing. "Has something happened?"
"You could say that. A message from the Bannorn." A brief jolt of cowardice made her want to just hand him the message and leave. She refused. Spine straight she gestured towards the bed. "I'm sorry Alistair, so sorry. You're going to need to sit."
"Sit? Is it Eamon, has something happened?"
"No, not Eamon. Just sit down please. Sit."
Dropping the gauntlet he'd been about to slide on his hand, Alistair did as Anora told him and sat. "Don't drag it out Anora. Bad news is best told quickly."
"Yes. Quickly. I'm unsure how best to say this so perhaps you're right. Just out with it and then we can discuss what comes next."
Alistair waited but Anora just stood there with that worried look on her face. "Anora?"
"I. Received a message, from Bann Teagan. He wanted to warn you, us, that the Banns are intending to call a Landsmeet. They are going to demand you abdicate and call for your execution."
"Execution! Why?"
"Believe it or not Alistair, that was the least painful part of Teagan's message. It appears Arl Eamon lied to you. About who your mother was, is."
"He, what?"
"Your mother wasn't a servant at the Castle, she is a Grey Warden, an Orlesian mage."
"A mage?"
"Yes. Again I'm sorry but that's not what has the Banns in an uproar."
"Tell me."
"Your mother, Fiona, is an elf." He took it well, she thought. Much better than she'd have guessed.
"I see." An elf. A Grey Warden Orlesian elf mage. It was as if the Maker tried to get all the things together in one parent that would cause the most fuss. Alistair knew Anora was right, the rest might be countenanced but not his mother's race. That was not something the Banns or any humans could be convinced to overlook.
"You're taking this remarkably well." He looked up at her. "Or perhaps you're not.'
"I'll wail and moan later I'm sure. There doesn't seem time for it now."
After nodding briskly Anora outlined her plan. "I suggest leaving as soon as possible for Amaranthine. I've sent a messenger to the Warden Commander. It might seem quicker to take a ship from Denerim but, even with the overland journey, I think Amaranthine will be safer."
"Howe? Why would he want to help me?"
"A Howe perhaps, but a Howe with honour. He'll help us." Leaving him for the moment, Anora opened the door and beckoned the waiting servant. "Fetch the King's armour. His old Grey Warden armour. Bring his swords, the darkspawn longswords."
"Yes your majesty." Used to eccentricities of nobles, the servant didn't stop to wonder why the King wanted his old armour, just ran to fetch it as he'd been told.
"Let me help you with that armour." Anora walked forward only to stop when Alistair held his hand up. "Alistair, we don't have much time."
"I'm not going to run away Anora. Whatever this, revelation, brings I'll stand and face it."
"Now is not the time for self-sacrifice. If we wait for the Banns to organise we could face a Civil War. Is that what you want? So soon after the last one?"
"No. Of course not, it just seems, cowardly to run."
"We could have the guard run you through if you prefer? That would seem a sensible way to avoid a drawn out fight."
He was surprised to hear himself laugh. "Careful Anora, that sounded dangerously like a joke."
"It must be your bad influence." Impatient with his need for heroics, she started tugging at the fastenings on his armour. "The servant is fetching your old armour. Much more sensible for a long journey."
"Anora." Alistair held her hands still. "I'd rather die here than run and die a coward."
"Oh for the Maker's sake. Men! Why do you have this need to be heroes? Fine. Die." Throwing her hands up she backed away. "Die and take half of Ferelden with you!"
"You're right. I know you're right. I should run. It just seems wrong somehow. After everything that's happened, now I'm to run?"
"Please Alistair."
He looked at her for a moment or two. His wife and unexpectedly, his friend. Once he might have accused her of being complicit in this but not now. "Do you have some paper? As useless at it might prove, I'll leave a letter of abdication in your favour. I'll also renounce any claim for my heirs. Assuming I have any." She nodded approvingly. "I'll miss you Anora. You've proven a good friend and a better wife than I possibly deserved under the circumstances."
"I was thinking the same of you. We would have done well together, never doubt it."
"We would." Shaking off his mood, Alistair stood. "As someone once said to me, 'off with the armour then'."
"Who said that? Some tavern wench no doubt?" Busy undoing the fastenings Anora was happy to let him distract himself with jokes.
"My fellow Grey Warden in point of fact. Unfortunately she was joking. Ah well. Women. Such fickle creatures you are."
Hearing a soft tap, Anora went to open the door. "Here's your armour my lord. A good day for hunting I think."
"Yes, a very good day."
. . .
"A good day for hunting lads." Crale crouched with his four best men and watched the road below. "Looks to be alone."
"Armed though. Good looking armour too. Could be trouble."
"Still alone Merrick ya coward."
"I'm no coward. Just don't fancy ending my life at the end of some noble's sword."
"He's no noble. No horse for starters and that armour's too well used. Hasn't been cleaned by a fancy servant." Sykes rubbed his chin while he thought about that.
Oddly enough it was that fact that gave Crale pause. "That could mean he's a fighter. Mercenary maybe?"
"Could be. Came into Denerim and now he's off somewhere? Might have coin. Could make it worth the taking the chance." It seemed weeks since Merrick had tasted decent food. If this traveller had coin he'd take any chance to grab it.
"Strange looking weapons. Reckon that means he isn't a noble. They usually have those fancy shiny ones. Not beaten up looking, whatever those things are."
"Vote then lads?" All hands went up and Crale nodded. "Right usual tricks then. Two of us head on, the rest come around the rear.
Knowing their places the five bandits trotted down the hill and split into two groups. Crale took Merrick with him, they'd do the front. Being the smallest their victims often underestimated the danger they presented. Once their three fellows were in place, Crale moved onto the road and approached the oncoming man slowly.
"Ho there." Crale kept his tone friendly. For now. This close he could see the man's armour was well made but worn, as they suspected. That heavy kind the guards wore, but, brown, dulled with dust and dirt.
Alistair stood in a relaxed posture and watched the two men. Bandits. It was an odd thing but every time he travelled anywhere in this armour he'd be accosted by bandits.
"Good day to you." Without need to look he could feel there were others behind him. One mage, how many others he couldn't tell without looking.
"My friend and I were just wondering where you're off to this fine day?"
They might be sent to kill him. Might be, but unlikely, they looked too hungry to be mercenaries. He'd stick with his first thoughts, bandits.
"South." Feeling the mage come close, Alistair hoped sitting in a palace hadn't dulled his skills.
"Odd you're on the North road then, friend." The signal word was 'friend'. At the sound of it the three behind attacked.
The mage first. Even as he turned Alistair, cleansed his attackers of any spells the mage might have on them. Once that was done he threw Holy smite directly the mage. The three bandits were knocked off their feet, giving him enough time to unsheathed his swords.
"Hold!" Crale backed away quickly. "We didn't know ser." A cursed Templar. "We don't attack the Chantry."
"Do I look like a Templar?" Spinning he had the closest bandit headless before he could run. The next died just as quickly. The mage, still struggling to his feet was impaled on the end of his sword.
"Peace, ser, peace. We don't want no trouble."
"Too late for peace." The remaining two backed away in time to his oncoming steps. "Weren't you intending to kill me?"
"Maker save us are you some kind of demon?"
"A demon? No." Feeling the power rebuild, he once again threw Holy smite. The two remaining bandits were hit and fell hard onto the road. A few quick paces and he reached them. The first he killed quickly, then sword raised, he met the eyes of the survivor and said.
"I'm a Grey Warden."
. . .
He'd taken his anger and pain out on the bandits. Disgusted with himself Alistair kicked the last body off the road and into the ditch along the edge. "Stupid." You'd think he'd have learned some self control by now.
The sun was going down, time to find a camping place. He'd best get some sleep, it was going to be a long walk to Vigil's Keep and his meeting with the Grey Wardens.