AN: Thank you to Shakespira, Lifeandfire25, Isabeau of Greenlea, ArcturasB and xSeikaX for your reviews.

A special thank you to Shakespira, my wonderful beta.

Chapter 2. Give Peace a Chance

Val tried not to look stunned, and failed miserably. So, she slowly sat down. "Maric Theirin, King of Ferelden?"

The man smiled wryly. "Well, former King, but the rest is correct." He sat in the chair across from her.

Val remembered that, long ago, she'd actually met King Maric.

She was 15, the same age as Prince Cailan, and had taken a trip with her father to Denerim. King Maric was taking a walk through the marketplace, looking at the various merchants' wares. She remembered her father saying that the King's guard must hate his 'jaunts through Denerim.'

She was at the dwarven armorer's stall, the only female there, when she suddenly realized the King standing was next to her. Blushing, she curtsied. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty."

The King looked at her and smiled. "All of the other young ladies are looking at the Orlesian silks."

"Silks don't fare well against swords." She blurted out the remark with no thought. Embarrassed, Val put her hand to her mouth and curtsied again. "Sire, please forgive my impertinence!"

The King laughed. "It isn't impertinent to speak the truth." He gave her a small bow. "Enjoy your shopping, My Lady!"

Aside from humiliation, what she remembered most was the look in his eyes. They were full of contradictions: vitality and weakness, naiveté and cynicism. It was something Val never forgot. Now those eyes were looking at her over a breakfast table, in a face that didn't look a day older.

"Now, I'm quite sure I'm dreaming."

"You're not dreaming, Val."

"You're dead; lost at sea. When I went to bed last night I was in Kirkwall. How is this not a dream?"

"One, I'm not dead, two, it's been a day and a half since you left Kirkwall. You arrived here yesterday afternoon night and have been asleep for a day."

"So, you're telling me, I've been kidnapped by the not-dead, former King of Ferelden."

Maric smiled. "You weren't kidnapped. You came willingly."

"What?"

"You were told, correctly, that your life was in grave danger, and you came along willingly. An Eluvian brought you here; you just don't remember. If you did, you would know who helped you escape and where to find the Eluvian."

"The only Eluvians I know of is one that's corrupted, and the one that is reputed to be in the Dragonbone Wastes, and the Wastes are more than two days from Kirkwall."

"There's one hidden in the Vimmark Mountains, about two hours from Kirkwall."

"It was the vial of pink liquid wasn't it?" Maric nodded. Val rolled her eyes. "So much for it bringing me my heart's deepest desire."

"Oh, it does that as well. As to what is your hearts deepest desire, sometimes it isn't what you think it should be. At least, that's what I have found."

She sat back. "You drank the pink liquid as well?"

"Yes. In my case I had to drink it as part of my healing, then I was brought here."

"Did you have the estate built for you or was it already here?"

"No, it was already here, but it had been empty for years, so there was a lot of work I needed to put into it. I'm now quite handy with grout and a trowel."

"Was the village here as well?"

"Yes, that was already here but smaller. It's grown quite a lot. But that is a conversation for later." His voice was gentle yet firm, one that brooked no questions.

"When can I go back to Kirkwall?"

"Did you not just hear me say that coming here was meant to save your life?"

"I'm not a delicate flower! I've done a pretty good job of protecting myself over the years. I have to go back."

Maric ignored that last remark. "Do you really want to go back, or are you just being the dutiful Viscountess, going back because it's expected of you?"

His question had called her up short.

Maric saw her considering what he'd said. He sat back shaking his head. "Go back to what, Val?"

"Back to my job."

"Excuse my impertinence, but let's examine your job. You arbitrate petty disputes between greedy, ungrateful nobles. You fight the Chantry against their infernal attempts to insert themselves into everything. You try to make sure all of your subjects are treated fairly, while knowing that discrimination against elves and mages makes that an impossible task. You are constantly being asked for guidance on anything from the trivial to the catastrophic, and you constantly worry about everyone under your rule."

Val's anger faded away. Maric had just said the very things that have been slowly gnawing at her these past years. He was a king; he understands the burdens and duty of being a leader. "Point taken. A very wise man told me that it isn't impertinent to tell the truth."

A satisfied look crossed Maric's face. Then he cocked his head and looked into her eyes.

"You're the young lady at the armorer's stall in Denerim!"

Val was surprised that he'd remembered. "Yes I am…and that would make you the wise man in this set up. Now, where am I?"

"You're in my home."

Val threw a small piece of toast at him.

Maric laughed. "You are a guest in my house and you throw toast at me?"

Val smiled. "Tell me that answer didn't deserve it?"

"Fair enough. The estate's called Calenhad Manor."

She nodded, putting butter on a piece of toast. "Where in Thedas are we?"

Maric leaned over and placed his hand over the one in which she held the knife. "You're no longer in Thedas; you're in Revas."

Val put down her toast and the knife. Maric's hand was still on hers. "That…that's the language of the elves! Revas means 'freedom.' Where is Revas in relation to Thedas?"

"Hard to say, exactly, it can only be reached by the Vimmark Eluvian"

"But the Tevinters have Eluvians, too."

"Those have been…adjusted."

"Adjusted how?"

They can no longer be used without a special ritual."

"The magic of Arlathan must be at work here."

"You know about Elven history and magic?"

"Yes, one of my companions was the former First of a Dalish clan. She was the one who had the corrupted Eluvian. How is it that you have one here?"

"It was here when I arrived. The important thing is that you're safe. Now, I can answer more of your questions, but can we finish breakfast first?"

Val smirked. "I suppose; it's hard to be angry with people who are trying to save your life."

Maric smiled. It was genuine, friendly, easy going. He raised an eyebrow. "I noticed you didn't ask about my heart's deepest desire."

"I didn't want to invade your privacy."

Maric nodded his head in thanks. "My heart's deepest desire has been partially filled. I wanted peace."

"Do you know what the other part is?"

"I have an idea, but…"

Val put up her hand. "That's okay. You don't have to tell me." Changing the subject. "Do you know what I missed when I smelled the fresh air here?

"The smell of wet dog?" Val nodded and laughed. "I miss that too, it must mean we are Fereldan to the core."

She sobered, cocking her head to the side. "Maric, how did you handle it all?"

"Handle what?"

"The burden of being king, of being a leader?"

Maric put his napkin on the table and leaned back, clearly deep in thought. After a few moments he looked at Val. "I really don't think I did handle it. I tried, and I was a good king, but after a while I realized that I was slowly being whittled away. Each set of failed crops, each subject I saw living in poverty, each abused city elf, each Landsmeet, and each, and every dispute I had to mediate took a bit away from me. I had no one to really share the burdens with. Loghain was my best friend, but he could never understand what I felt. Rowan had passed; Fiona went back to the Grey Wardens in Weisshaupt, and I didn't want to burden Cailan."

"You felt alone, even in a crowd."

"Precisely. You sound like someone who knows."

Val nodded. "Until you, I've never met someone who understood that. I can't describe how I even feel right now. You really do understand."

Maric leaned over and put his hand on hers. "We seemed to have both found understanding."

"Is that what made you leave Ferelden?"

Maric shook his head. "No. I was heading to the Free Marches negotiate issues of trade."

"How did you end up here?"

"I was found after my ship ran aground. But that is a long story for another time. Eat…eat."

After breakfast, Maric ushered Val into the great room. She sat in one of the comfy looking chairs. "May I curl up on this chair if I take my shoes off."

He nodded. "Of course, make yourself at home."

Val looked a Maric, Cailan looked so much like him. Does Maric know about the Blight? Cailan? Loghain? Alistair? Do I tell him? Does he even want to know?

Maric watched the thoughts and emotions play across her face. I was like that once. When the Crown was placed on my head, Loghain told me that I could no longer be so transparent; my face should never give away what I was thinking. I tried, but over the years it was Loghain's face that became more like stone…so, apparently, did his heart. Memories of Cailan came crashing in. Loghain, you'd better hope we never meet again, in this world or the beyond.

Val looked at Maric, who had been very quiet. "Maric, I...I don't know how to ask you this—"

"It's all right, Val. I already know."

Val's heart went out to this man. His best friend killed his son. "Did you know that Alistair is not only the Hero of Ferelden, but the Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens?"

Maric sat up. "I knew he was the one to slay the Archdemon, but nothing else after that. Do you know how he is?"

"He's very well. I met him when I visited my sister at the Warden compound at Vigil's Keep."

"Amaranthine! That was Howe's estate."

"It was stripped from the Howes as punishment for massacring the Couslands."

Maric blew out a sharp breath, and ran his hand through his hair. "I had heard about Bryce and Eleanor, but I wasn't told it was Howe who was responsible. That conniving bastard! Did the Couslands get justice?"

Val nodded.

Maric was quiet for a bit. Val figured he was digesting the news about Howe. Finally he looked up. "So, what's your sister's name?"

"Bethany. Apparently, after Valentina, my parents opted for more sensible names.'

"Says the woman who is talking to a man named Maric. So what's Alistair like?"

Val smiled. "He's smart, charming, thoughtful, has a tremendous amount of integrity, and commands a great deal of respect and loyalty from his Wardens. Oh, and apparently he has an unholy obsession with cheese."

Maric chuckled. "So do I," but Val saw something behind his eyes. Her voice was soft and low. "He's married…they have a daughter."

Maric hung his head down for a little while; Val quietly waited. When he looked up, she could see red in his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. "Tell me… about Alistair's family."

"His wife's name is Kalian, she's an elf from Denerim, and they met during the post-blight cleanup. They're quite devoted to each other and have a daughter, named Adaia, who is a precocious eight year-old with the most glorious red-blond hair. She has the wardens wrapped around her fingers, and is already training with small practice daggers."

Maric smiled at the image. "I'm going to tell you something not even Alistair knows... Alistair's mother was an elf."

"Like father, like son?" She quckly slapped her hand over her mouth. "Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't..."

Maric busted out laughing. "Don't apologize. You're absolutely right! Now, let's get to the mountain of questions you must have, but first, you need to read this." Maric took a rolled up parchment from the side table, and handed it to Val.

She quickly unrolled it.

13 Haring, 9:39 Dragon
Lord Maric Theirin
Calenhad Manor

My Lord:

Thank you for agreeing to provide a safe haven for Viscountess Valentina Hawke of Kirkwall. She was at the center of the templar/mage rebellion in Kirkwall, and it was her strength and integrity that saved Kirkwall from tearing itself completely apart.

Unfortunately, even as Viscountess, she is no longer safe in Kirkwall, nor is she safe anywhere else in Thedas.

She has done so much for so many, this is the least we can do for her.

In gratitude,
C

"Who's 'C'?"

"I don't exactly know, but I have a suspicion. I know 'C' is a man because one of his missives mentioned it. All of my communications with him have been in writing."

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

"It did at first, but now I know the lay of the land, so it makes sense."

Val ignored the comment about the 'lay of the land.' "I knew my safety in Kirkwall was tenuous, but all of Thedas?"

Maric nodded.

"So what is Revas?"

"Revas will hopefully be the new Elvhenan. And home to a few trusted humans."

"How? I thought they lost everything after Arlathen sunk into the ground?"

"The village Hahren will explain some of it. Some we don't know as it is still unfolding. Suffice it to say that it began when some of the ancient elves suddenly awoke from their endless dream."

"So, there are some elves who remember the old magic and the lost culture? Are they here?

Maric nodded. "Yes to both questions. One of them is our Hahren, and one of them is our Keeper.

Tears came to Val's eyes. Merrill would simply love this. "I'm guessing you're one of the trusted humans?"

"I am indeed, and so are you. Why are you crying?"

"I was thinking of my Dalish friend Merrill, she desperately wanted to save what ever ancient lore the Dalish had and try to restore some of it to her people. But I digress, you were about to say something?"

"What happened at Kirkwall has started a war that's going to threaten the very existence of the Chantry."

"How do you know that?"

"It's one of the powers of the Eluvian."

"It foretells the future?"

"No, it lets us see Thedas. We can see enough of what is happening to have surmised the disaster that is unfolding."

"Every mage in Thedas probably wants my head. I had to side with the Templars. Anders gave me no choice."

"I understand. Circles are falling all over Thedas and we believe that the Templars and Seekers will begin to pull away from the Chantry.

"Is there a connection with the founding of Revas and the threat to the Chantry in Thedas?"

"There is indeed. As you know, the beginnings of the Chantry have always been…shrouded...in mystery, and information has always been carefully controlled. Control is slowly being wrested away, by mages, by Templars, and by Seekers. This will leave Orlais in a very difficult position. Not that I don't mind having the Orlesians sweat. However, a weak Orlais could invite a war with Tevinter, and as Tevinter and the Qunari are still at war, it will completely destabilize Thedas."

"With Templars and Seekers pulling away from the Chantry, the Divine loses the ability to start an Exalted March."

"Right again."

Val's head was too full of questions, and she was both excited and scared. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, held it, then blew it out. She repeated the action twice more before she opened her eyes and looked at Maric. He looked concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Yes and no. It's a lot to take in at one time."

"Then we should stop for now. May I escort you on a tour of the estate and the village?"

"I would like that very much; thank you! What is the name of the village?

"Atish'an"

"Place of Peace? Did you have a hand in its name?"

Maric grinned. "How did you guess?"