Chapter 2: The Crown Prince

The world will be yours one day.

If one phrase could describe a life, that is what would be said of Prince Duncan Theirin. He was the son of Alistair, Hero of the Blight, grandson of Maric the Savior, great grandson of Moira the Rebel Queen. When he had been born the realm had rejoiced, the Theirin line would continue. It would not die out, but continue on as it had for centuries. Duncan was the keystone of that believe, and…

…And he was about to turn fifteen.

He had been the first Ferelden Prince born in almost thirty years, and therefore a reason to cheer for the people. His Uncle Cailan had never sired an heir, and most had feared that the royal line would die out in a single generation. Mother and Father had changed all that, producing five children to succeed them when the day came.

It was a terrible burden, and a great privilege. Father had tried to make sure he understood that. Mother had done all she could to prepare him for it. It would not be easy; both of his parents had made that point quite clear. One day the weight of a country would rest on his slowly broadening shoulders.

That day was, hopefully, still far in the future, or so Duncan hoped. One day he would be the king his parents wanted him to be. He would be strong and fair, and just, but for now, now…

The boy smiled slightly.

For now, the Prince wanted to have a little fun.

The trip south was just what he needed. It would be great, a chance to get away from the capital and be free for a few weeks. Uncle Teagan had already said that he didn't mind. He had used it himself during his younger days he had admitted. The castle was just isolated enough that one could forget their troubles, and had once been a place for the young members of the royal family to have fun and get away from their duties for a time. Now that the wars were almost over, was it not time for it to be so again?

He had his uncle's blessing, now all he needed was his father's, and the best way to do that was to go through his mother.

She will say yes, he thought, she has to say yes. Next year he would be sixteen, a man in the eyes of the world, he hoped to do a bit of travelling then, see the world before he had to settle down and rule his home. He wanted to see the crypts of Nevarra, the ruins of the Dales in Orlais, walk the docks of Rialto in Antiva…

Okay, he thought, maybe not Antiva, not yet anyway.

His father cautioned him a bit about that last one, King Alistair had had a…disagreement with the crows a few years ago.

A crow never forgets son, the king had warned him, remember that.

That trip would be an adventure in itself, but he was not yet old enough to make it on his own, or so common wisdom said, no more how stuffy and sanctimonious it was.

That journey would be fun, however, it was still a year off, right now all he intended to travel south with his friends, spend some time hunting and hawking. Sharing tales and songs around a roaring fire, and with a little luck…

Finally spend a bit of time with his heart's desire, feel her tremble with nervous excitement as he pulled her tight into his arms, hear her giggles and gentle sighs, run his fingers through her long hair, and taste those pink lips so…

"WHOA!"

The prince brought his blade up just in time, the blunted training sword clanged against its fellow as he staggered back. Two more blows followed quickly after, both nearly putting him on his ass.

Dunk shook his head; all thoughts of drinking and kissing were gone. He was in the training yard, blade in hand.

The training yard was no place for honeyed daydreams.

Good morning he thought; that was certainly a wake-up call.

His opponent paused, blade still at the ready, but no longer pushing the advantage. A silverite helm covered the knight's features, all hidden beneath a visor-less helm. It was a simple thing, the kind of helm that any hedge knight might wear, simple but protective, however its long pointed metal ears crafted in steel left no doubt who his opponent was.

This man was no simple hedge knight; in fact he was something of a local legend.

His teacher remained in a combat stance, even though his voice was as relaxed as if they were discussing things over a pint.

"Are you done daydreaming now, little prince?" the knight asked in a sweet mocking voice.

Duncan chuckled.

The knight's comment was a little condescending, but the prince took no offense, considering who he was facing, the deeds the man had done, he was entitled to be a little snarky with his pupil, and besides...

The little comment was amusing. When the two had begun training together, the knight had been at least a good head taller than Duncan, at eleven he had been a little prince. Since hitting his growth spurt however, Duncan now stood a good head and shoulders above the knight, shooting up as tall as his father and just now starting to fill out the broad shoulders he had grown into.

In the last three years the two had become more than just teacher and pupil, they were friends, so Dunk was not afraid to sass the little knight back.

"I was merely catching my breath, Ser Adwyn," he said with a cocky grin, which, fortunately for him, was hidden behind his own face plate.

"I would not wish to make things too easy for you."

Thought Dunk could not see his face, he could imagine how the elven knight's large eyes narrowed at his words. When it came to battle, the knight was all business, except when trying to throw his young charge off his game with this jibe or that.

He would not be fooled, Dunk knew, or provoked, by the prince's comment.

Ser Adwyn was too good a knight to be so easily put off his game.

His teacher did not respond with words, but with actions. He flung himself at Dunk, a flurry of blows that once again since the prince back-pedaling. When the flurry ended, Duncan found himself pinned against the stone wall.

Only then did the knight speak.

"I trust that was not too easy for you," he said, "I would not wish you to get bored with my training."

Again the boy chuckled.

Ser Adwyn had made his point.

IOI

Ser Adwyn Elf-blood or Ser Adwyn the Elven-knight as he was sometimes known was something of a local hero in Denerim. He had won his spurs at the tender age of thirteen, a boy standing on the wall helping to hold the darkspawn back when they lay siege to Denerim. Three years later, he had entered a grand melee in a tourney held to honor the heroes of the Blight. Adwyn had defeated many challengers that day, and even though he had not won, he still had impressed the king enough to grant him a knighthood, the first elf since the fall of the Dales to hold that title, according to Ferelden scholars anyway.

Over the next ten years, Ser Adwyn's fame had grown. He had fought bravely during that time, serving Duncan's father well. In the end he was even granted the title of Champion of the Alienages, and a medal for distinguished service.

It was for that reason that Duncan had wanted Ser Adwyn to teach him how to fight. In all things he seemed to be far truer that many of the human knights that served his father, more loyal and more honest. It had taken two requests before the knight had agreed to teach the prince, and even then it had been with certain conditions.

"If I am going to teach him to fight, Your Majesty," Ser Adwyn had said, "I will also teach him what it is he should be fighting for."

The king had agreed, and Duncan had begun his training.

"You are going to work hard, boy. I expect nothing but the best" the knight had said, "The moment I think you are being lazy, or wasting my time, our training will end."

The prince had taken those words to heart. He had not quit or complained. They went on runs together, and would spar for several hours at a time. When he had been hurt, Ser Adwyn had bandaged his wounds. He learned about the sword, the lance, and the dagger, but that was not all. Ser Adwyn had also tried to teach him about the world outside the palace, beyond his books and tutors. He showed him the Alienage, and the poor farmsteads that were still struggling more than ten years after the Blight. The sights he saw often broke Dunk's heart, and made him see what just what ruling would one day mean. He faced these trials and more, and by choosing not to cry or quit, he had learned a great deal about both life and fighting, not to mention the respect of Ser Adwyn Elf blood.

Respect, that was worth its weight in gold.

IOI

When their training ended, he and Adwyn took the time to clean up any messes they had made. They could have asked a servant, but the Elven Knight would not hear of it.

Be willing to do a servant's work when you must, little prince, the elf said.

It will teach you humility, and that is something that every knight needs.

The two returned their training blades, and began removing the armored vests and helmets they had been wearing. Had this been a real fight the elf would have worn his silverite plate, a fine suit of heavy armor earned from many years of battle and victory.

Beneath his helm, Ser Adwyn was considered quite handsome, or so Dunk's sister Cassie had said, as most men of his kind were. Strong avian features, a hawk like nose, with silver gold hair, and eyes so blue they almost looked black.

Duncan himself favored his father, they had similar features, and worn their hair in similar style. Duncan's was more red perhaps, but that was to be expected considering how red his mother's hair was.

Usually the elven knight would give him some pointers on what he should work on before their next encounter. Some knew fighting move to study, or somewhere the prince should go and visit so that he might learn something.

Yet now, the knight was strangely silent, he watched his pupil with an evaluating eye.

It was enough to make the young prince nervous.

"You did well today," the elf finally said, "Not great perhaps, but well enough."

Duncan smiled slightly, as far as Ser Adwyn was concerned that was high praise. However, good was never good enough, and there was always room for improvement.

"Thank you ser," he said.

The elf's ears twitched.

"I understand that you are going to be spending some time away from the capital. It will be good for you to see more of the world, but never forget your training. Danger can appear at any time."

Duncan pursed his lips.

It was not like he would just forget all that he had learned in the last few years, it was not like he ever could. If he ever needed a reminder, all he had to do was look at some of the scars he had gotten while training.

That was reminder enough.

"It's just going to be me and a few friends, plus our guards," he said nonchalantly, "I think we will be fine, ser."

Duncan smiled.

"I've already spoken with Uncle Teagan, everything will be safe and secure."

"Perhaps," the elf said, "Perhaps not, just because the wars are winding down do not think that all danger has passed."

The elf's expression turned serious.

"Never forget what happened to your brother. We all thought the palace was secure back then as well."

Duncan winced.

It was unlikely he would ever forget that either.

The Prince shook his head.

Mother was insisting of they did this, that they bring Anthony along. Though he worried that his brother might spoil the mood, he was willing to try.

Who knew, it might even work, and if it did, that was great.

It would be good to have his little brother back to his old self again.

"Is there anything you want me to work on when we go?" he asked his teacher, "Some new form, some new maneuver."

"Just be aware of your surroundings," the knight advised, "And don't forget your honor while you…revel."

Dunk blushed slightly.

Ser?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Do…um…you ever forget your honor when you are with Bann Shianni?"

The elven knight's ears rose in surprise, though he should not have been.

Half of Denerim knew that he was often seen leaving the Bann of Alienage's estate in the small hours before the dawn. The two had been lovers for a few years now, yet so far, there had been no word of marriage.

Whether it was the Bann or the Elven knight who was resisting a union, none could say.

Dunk expected a rebuke, yet the knight, perhaps recognizing the innocence of his comment, chose not to give one.

"Love makes you forget sometimes, passion is the enemy of duty, or so I have heard it said."

The elf smiled slightly.

"But passion is a strength as well, having something to fight for, something that you would be willing to die for is not a bad thing."

The elf tilted his head slightly.

"Is there someone that you would fight for little prince?"

Was there someone? Yes, he believed that there was. He was too shy to say Alindra's name however, at least for now.

That would change when he finally spoke his heart to her. When she accepted him as hers, and realized that she was his.

This trip would be the perfect opportunity; he would be able to get her alone.

What came next would be…destiny itself.

He could not control his blush, it was difficult to admit his heart, but he was a knight, or would be when Ser Adwyn thought him ready.

"There is someone," he admitted.

The elf smiled.

"Then treat her well," his teacher advised, "Speak your heart, and let nature take its course, but never forget your honor. Even if you don't get what you want, remember, honor remains."

Duncan nodded, though any thought of failure vanished when he thought of Alindra Nightingale, those eyes, and her beautiful smile.

He would not fail to woo her.

He had desired her since they were children though he had not recognized that until recently.

He wanted her, and he would not fail.

He would not.

"I'll remember, ser," he promised.

"Honor remains."