Thank you to those who put the story on their favourites list and those who put it on their alerts list. Thank you to everybody else for reading the story and hopefully sticking with it. I would really appreciate some feedback if you have the time, it's always good to know what I'm doing right or wrong and to have suggestions how it may be changed or improved. One thing I would really like to know is what people's preferences are when it comes to dialogue taken from the game. Would people prefer that they weren't reading any dialogue from the game, don't they mind how much dialogue is taken from the game, or is it best to have a mixture of the two. I thought I'd ask before I get to the Origin stories, so that I don't put anyone off from reading.
This story sees the return of a familiar face from The Calling novel, although not originally in the Dragon Age Origins game, I thought the character would be a good addition to this story, alongside Duncan.
Chapter 1: The Grey Wardens from Orlais
"What can we expect from these Orlesian Grey Wardens, Duncan? They aren't here to take over are they?" Alistair questioned, with a hint of suspicion in his tone.
"In truth I never expected to be left to oversee the rebuilding of the Ferelden Order completely by myself. What it means in practice is that we will be watched closely by the highest levels of command from within Orlais, so that we meet their expectations for the new Order." Duncan explained, his look one of concern. Alistair wondered if Duncan feared losing control of the Order to Orlais and becoming little more than a pawn in the greater scheme of things.
"What about the rumours of Darkspawn sightings and raids in the Kakari Wilds? Do you think it is merely rumour, or could this be the start of a Blight?" Alistair asked curiously, wondering what part he would play if indeed a Blight was upon the lands of Ferelden.
"If the rumours are indeed true, the coming months will prove to be the most important of our lives. There will be much that needs to be done as we travel the lands in search of new recruits. I doubt Orlais will be willing to send too many Grey Wardens to assist us in Ferelden as they will no doubt be justly concerned that if the Blight spreads to Orlais, if indeed it is a Blight, they will need all the Wardens they can muster to protect the Empire.
But we are getting ahead of ourselves. We cannot truly know for sure that a Blight is upon us. There have been rumours before and they have all come to nothing. The trouble is we are not prepared for a Blight. Until we begin to recruit Grey Wardens we will have to rely on the armies of Ferelden to protect the lands. Having seen the Darkspawn in person, I know for certain that they are not ready to face such a threat. I am not certain that a regular army would know what to expect, and would suffer greatly from low morale and lack of preparedness.
Our time could indeed be too short in which to prepare for a Blight. But nevertheless we must do all we can if Ferelden is to survive. At least King Maric recognised the threat the Darkspawn hordes posed and allowed Grey Wardens to once again operate within Ferelden. Luckily his son shares his father's insights and recognises that Ferelden desperately needs to build an Order of Grey Wardens that can rival the strength of Orlais. And the Orlesians are only too willing to help and oversee the rebuilding of the Order.
I suppose we are about to find out just how much they intend to involve themselves in our affairs. In truth I suppose I welcome the help they can provide, while I feel capable enough to lead the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, there are other things that I know little of, and would find it a burden to have to deal with myself. For example we cannot live on the goodwill of King Cailan forever. Sooner or later we are going to have to produce a regular income from trade and other means. Orlais will no doubt help for awhile, but we need to be self sufficient. We need tradesmen and artisans, craftsmen, armourers, weaponsmiths, blacksmiths, merchants, and many more if we are to be taken seriously.
We need at least one fortress from which to operate outside of Denerim, and all the facilities in place to support a local network of civilian workers who will be vital to our long term survival. The list of needs is seemingly endless, and I doubt I have the abilities to see that all things are taken care of. That's where the Orlesian Grey Wardens come in. They will no doubt have prepared in advance and hopefully sent the right people for the tasks at hand, we can only hope. Not to mention the day to day politics and dealing with the nobility of Ferelden. I may have the attention of the king and some of the other nobility, such as Teyrn Cousland and Arl Guerrein. But dealing with the every day matters that will likely come once we are established within Ferelden is not to my liking. I would much prefer to be out there overseeing the recruiting of new Wardens.
It will be interesting to see who they have sent from Orlais. I didn't really spend enough time there to get to know too many of them, but there were a few I would call friends. Let's go and see, it wouldn't do to keep our guests waiting too long. No doubt they have had a long and tiring journey. They will be in need of refreshment, a warm bath and a long rest before they begin their work." Duncan explained as the two of them walked from the Great Hall to the other side of the fortress where the guest study was located.
It seemed that every few steps there were servants busy tidying, mopping, cleaning and clearing away old rubbish. The old fortress was in great need of a thorough cleaning after the many centuries of neglect. If it wasn't servants in the way then it was labourers working for the craftsmen who had been given the lucrative contract to refurbish the dilapidated old building. The king had insisted he be allowed to pay for all the work that needed doing, and hired the best craftsmen in all of Ferelden to ensure the job was done to perfection.
Duncan knew that there were hundreds of years worth of Grey Warden relics in storage in the fortress's cellars, secured since the days when the Grey Wardens were banished from Ferelden. He had looked at them briefly when they first moved into the building. There were centuries old portraits of ancient Grey Wardens, hundreds of them, from as far back as the first blight. The paintings would surely have covered every wall in the fortress at one time. Remarkably they were still in good condition and would have been worth a fortune to collectors of Grey Warden artefacts.
There were statues of heroic Grey Wardens, some were marble, others stone wood or brass, the most expensive were gold jewelled with all manner of precious stones. They ranged from foot-high busts to ten foot tall giants, each one carefully designed by master craftsmen of an era that appreciated the worth of the Grey Wardens. There were all manner of weapons. They were ornamental, ceremonial and exquisitely crafted blades that would still be appreciated even in the Dragon Age by the most celebrated of warriors. Some of those he had discovered were undoubtedly magical in nature, almost a crime to have such wonderful and possibly powerful artefacts stored away behind thick oaken doors, hidden from the outside world, probably considered lost and forgotten. He wondered what had kept the thieves at bay for the past two centuries. There were all manner of trinkets. Amulets, rings, necklaces, some were just for show and mundane in nature, but others radiated strong magic. No doubt in centuries past they had been used to battle the Darkspawn hordes.
There were shelves full of all manner of books. Indeed the fortress boasted a magnificent library that deserved a place within the fortress where they could be easily studied. Among them were long lost tomes of magic, magical incantations of a different era, he had no knowledge of magic but was certain that in the right hands these books would be invaluable and perhaps deadly tools of destruction that would be of great use against the Darkspawn.
Armour stands displayed splendid ancient sets of armour both decorative and fully usable, although the styles differed greatly from today's walking armoured behemoths in their full suits of battlefield plate mail armour. There were trunks full of clothing. Cloaks and tabards, robes and trousers, shoes and boots of all types, again some radiated magic. Duncan could only imagine what event would have caused the Grey Wardens to so quickly abandon all this priceless treasure.
In time he or someone with a keen eye for such things would have to take the time to take stock of all that sat in Grey Griffon Hall's cellars. It would need careful evaluation and perhaps further investigation into its true nature, lest they unearth something of an evil nature, innocently but unwittingly and have to deal with the consequences.
For now the fortress was very sparsely decorated with various potted plants, donated paintings and rugs and carpets from the Kings own cellars. Although at least the wine cellar and kitchen pantries had been fully stocked in anticipation of the Grey Wardens first banquet, to which the king and queen and some of the upper echelons of the Ferelden nobility had been invited. Duncan had no idea what kind of host he would make on such an occasion and wondered at the sense in accepting the goodwill of the king, and having to deal with all the expectations that went along with that goodwill. But he would deal with that when the time arose. For now, he had Orlesians to deal with and didn't know quite what to expect.
The two of them carried on walking until they were stood outside a set of heavy oaken doors. A thick brass ring on each door was used to gain access to the Guest Study.
"Are you ready for this, Duncan? You seem a little agitated, perhaps a little irritable."
Alistair asked, noting the expression on Duncan's face. If Alistair had to guess he would say Duncan would rather be anywhere but here right now.
"If this is a portent of things to come, then bring on the Darkspawn. What with having to deal with Orlesians, rebuild an entire Grey Warden Order, cautiously navigate the troubled waters of dealing with the Ferelden nobility and more importantly Lady Ellani, I will be glad of the respite." Duncan explained as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Duncan was suddenly feeling quite overcome, despite the fact that the corridors of Grey Griffon Hall were cool at best and freezing the further away from the occupied chambers one got. Perhaps the realisation of responsibility had finally caught up with him and it dawned on him just how much was on his shoulders and what was undoubtedly expected of him. The poor little murdering gutter thief, a sudden vision of the night he murdered Guy and was tasked with joining the Grey Wardens, Genevieve was never far from his thoughts.
"It isn't all that bad, Duncan, well at least not for me, you get to deal with all the problems that are undoubtedly coming your way. Me, well I'm not even a real Grey Warden yet, so I can't …." Alistair said smugly, trying to unnerve Duncan a little more, simply for the amusement of it.
"Damn it, Alistair. Just be quiet if you haven't got anything useful or constructive to say." Duncan replied, an expression of frustration creeping across his face as the pressure began to show.
"Ready then, no time like the present." Alistair said before Duncan had the chance to register what he was going to do. Alistair took the two brass handles in his hands, turned them anti clockwise to open the doors and then put his back into pushing the heavy doors open. Duncan was simply too slow and caught up in his own thoughts to stop Alistair and settled for growling at him between gritted teeth as the chambers beyond the opening doors came into full view.
The Guest Study, along with the Great Hall, Duncan and Ellani's bedchambers, Alistair's bedchambers, the servants quarters, the kitchen pantry and wine cellar were the only areas of the entire fortress that had so far seen any sign that the place was once again occupied. The Guest Study was perhaps the most inviting room in the whole fortress at present. It spanned some ten metres both from north to south and from east to west, giving the impression of a perfect square. Dozens of bookcases lined the walls, with hundreds if not thousands of thick bound tomes either donated or some of the more mundane titles brought up from the cellars below the fortress. A massive crystal chandelier was perfectly placed in the centre of the room, hanging from a ceiling some eight metres above as it formed a gentle arch. The work was an artist's delight, depicting all manner of scenic battlegrounds showing the heroic exploits of the Grey Wardens in centuries past.
Duncan looked around the room, eight well dressed people either stood or sat at the large oak table in various stages of either eating or drinking from a large assortment of deliciously smelling roast meats, enough to make his mouth water and he couldn't help involuntarily licking his lips at the sight of the feast. Bowls of fruit and vegetables were placed along the middle of the table, which stretched seven metres from end to end and was about a metre wide, with two long benches, one either side. It was enough to comfortably seat twenty people. Several dozen bottles of fine red Orlesian wine were in various stages of being consumed by the waiting Wardens.
The Orlesians were dressed in the finest of Orlesian finery. In truth he thought they all looked preposterous, they reminded him of a travelling circus of bards, musicians and clowns. They were all bows and lace, velvet and ribbons, silk and satin. How could these ridiculous fops be the pride of the Grey Wardens of Orlais? Too much makeup, he was sure some of them were wearing the long curly wigs so much favoured in the Orlesian Royal Court by the nobility. He wasn't impressed to say the least. If that wasn't enough, their very stance, the way they held themselves seemed bizarre, with an emphasis on making oneself somehow appear to draw the onlooker's attention, indeed they seemed to demand it. But it did at least remind him of the Orlais he had come to know during his youth. He continued scanning the room, now every eye was on Duncan and Alistair.
"Duncan, old friend, it is good to finally see you again after so many years. I had wondered if we would we ever share another conversation in person, rather than through the occasional letter." The small, indeed petite woman, said as she sat upright with her back straight, one hand holding a wine glass and the other seemingly unwilling to let go of a magnificent white staff that simply radiated a magical aura so strong it was almost uncomfortable to be in its presence. Duncan looked her over not quite registering who it was that sat before him. He studied her mousy brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail, and her deep expressive eyes like wells of arcane knowledge and understanding. Her white and crimson robes were those of importance, if Duncan remembered correctly, those of an Orlesian Grey Warden Archmage. And then it dawned on him just who he was looking at.
Duncan was quite simply lost for words. He closed his eyes then opened them again just to check if he was dreaming or not. "Fiona …., Fiona is it really you?" Duncan questioned, simply astonished by the sight of his old fellow Warden and friend.
"Have I really aged that much?" Fiona asked with a quiet giggle.
"That's just it, old friend, you haven't aged a day since the last time I saw you." Duncan spluttered, almost lost for words.
"You old flatterer. Still the charming rogue I remember so dearly. It really is great to see you again, Duncan. I almost didn't recognise you under all that facial hair, I'm not certain a beard suits you, Duncan."
"Unlike you, Fiona, I have aged somewhat less gracefully. The old lines and wrinkles are beginning to show." Duncan said with a light hearted chuckle.
"So you two know each other then? That should make things go a little smoother. I told you there was nothing to worry about, Duncan. You should have seen him earlier …." Alistair said with a wide grinning expression.
"Alistair, be quiet, boy. If you were wondering, Fiona, this is Alistair …." Duncan began, and then it suddenly hit him like a speeding Hurlock. He just remembered to who he was talking, and immediately noticed the sadness fill Fiona's deep, wide eyes. No one else noticed, but Duncan could see the struggle on her face to fight back the tears.
"Alistair, your newest recruit, Duncan? If I read your last letter correctly." Fiona quizzed, looking Alistair over, perhaps too closely for both of them.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Fiona. Any friend of Duncan's is sure to fit in well around here. That's if you're staying of course. Or is this just a fleeting visit?" Alistair couldn't help but notice how attractive the elf was and wondered at her real age. If she was an old companion of Duncan's she must have been in her mid forties at least, although she appeared no older than her mid twenties.
"I'm afraid we are here for more than a simple visit to see old friends. We have much to discuss, and much to prepare for if the prophecies are indeed true and this is the start of yet another Blight." The sudden jovial nature of Fiona's words was replaced by a deadly serious tone that spoke volumes as to the seriousness of the situation.
"Then you believe it to be true. I had hoped the rumours were merely that. The tales of drunken hunters straying too close to the Kakari Wilds and getting spooked by forest sprites and ghostly spirits. It is sad tidings indeed that you bring, Fiona. Alas, I had hoped our next meeting would be a joyous occasion, full of tales since we last parted and about our exploits all that time ago. I did not think our joyous reunion would be tainted with Prophecies of Blight upon the land." Duncan said shaking his head at the thought of what this could all mean, both for the Grey Wardens and for Ferelden.
"We still have time for a joyous reunion, Duncan. But our time must be spent in preparation. Those I have brought with me will help in the rebuilding of the Order. Those you see before you in all their pomp and finery are the best the Orlesian Order could find. Veteran warriors, learned mages, and skilful rogues. Before my manners forget me totally, I think introductions are in order.
This young lady is Arabella, or Bel or Bella if you get to know her as a friend. She is the most senior of the mage adepts within the Orlesian Order. Already she is on her way to becoming the youngest Archmage to grace the Grey Wardens in over three hundred years. She has completed her training in less than half the time it normally takes for the most gifted students to reach adept status."
Duncan and Alistair watched as the mage sat up straight, lowered the chicken leg to her plate that she had been devouring moments before and then stood to face Duncan. She was dressed in the Blue and white robes of a mage adept of the Orlesian Grey Warden Order. Duncan put her age at no older than mid to late twenties, which if it was true was certainly an accomplishment indeed, very few Archmages were younger than their early to mid fifties. She had long golden blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail with lose strands of hair dangling lazily down the side of her face. She stood perhaps a half a foot taller than Fiona and was of a healthy athletic build. She was undoubtedly a more hands on type of mage, used to practising combat with her staff than those who relied solely on their magic, or at least that was Duncan's best guess.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Warden Commander Duncan. I look forward to working with you." Arabella said as she ran her hand across her face to wipe away the grease from the roast chicken. She smiled with a wide grin, a look of complete innocence and Duncan couldn't help but wonder if he wanted to expose such a young sheltered woman to the horrors of a Blight. But he also knew that none of them could escape such a thing, if a Blight was on the way, then they would all have to make sacrifices.
"Don't let her seeming innocence and naivety fool you, Duncan, we wouldn't have brought her with us if we didn't believe she was ready. As to her position, for now she is to be our advisor. She will deal with the day to day running of the Order. That means dealing with the nobility, organising a working treasury and dealing with the civilian workers we will need to get things running smoothly. All hiring and firing of civilian tradesmen and the like will fall to her. This will free up our time to actually get the recruitment of the Order into motion. That is where these others come into the picture. They will, once we have recruited enough Wardens, be your Chapter commanders. All of them have faced the Darkspawn threat in the Deep Roads and all are veteran wardens in whom you can have the utmost confidence."
"Chapter commanders, do you really think the Order will grow big enough to warrant such positions?" Duncan asked curiously, never imagining that he would need to recruit more than one chapter.
"The word from the First Warden in Weisshaupt, is that the coming years will see a great surge in recruitment of Grey Wardens all across Thedas. Every nation's Grandmaster Warden is to take it upon themselves to turn their Order into a force that can effectively deal with a Blight when they arise. At the moment only Weisshaupt in the Anderfels and Orlais number more than a thousand wardens each. The First Warden's goal is to ensure that every nation has a force that will number over a thousand Grey Wardens. The idea being that never again will we be caught unaware and unprepared, like so many times before. The Blights can strike anywhere, in any nation. We must be prepared, for the sake of all humanity. The consequences of losing a nation or nations to the Darkspawn hordes are too terrible to contemplate.
Your chapter commanders will be the backbone of the Order, each one capable of leading a hundred to two hundred Grey Wardens. But admittedly our plans may be too late if this Blight is upon us already. But that we will discuss later, let me introduce those who will serve you, loyally and faithfully and with a great deal of pride and honour. The first is the veteran warrior Jumanu." Fiona said as she pointed to the massive form of the bewigged dark skinned barbarian.
Duncan watched as the ridiculously dressed barbarian stepped forward and gave a long sweeping bow, almost losing his wig of curly silver hair in the process. The warrior was quite simply the largest man Duncan had ever seen, he must have stood well over seven feet tall and weighed over four hundred pounds, though it was obvious the man was as solid as an ogre and there wasn't a scrap of fat on him. Duncan couldn't help but wonder if the Orlesians clothing was by choice or some sort of elaborate disguise. It simply didn't fit any of them, especially Fiona, who had never been some pampered and preened Orlesian delicate doll. Duncan simply couldn't hold his tongue any longer and decided to say something, albeit more diplomatically than if Alistair was allowed to open his mouth.
"Forgive me, Fiona, but the costumes? They just don't fit the occasion."
"Ah, you noticed then. A group of travelling Orlesian nobleman has only highwaymen to fear, and we are more than capable of dealing with a few inbred robbers. On the other hand if we were travelling as well armed Grey Wardens for all to see, who knows what kind of attention we may have drawn to our selves."
"In truth, Orlesians aren't exactly the flavour of the month in Ferelden. I'm surprised you arrived with so little problems from some of the more troublesome elements."
"It matters little, Warden Commander, once we have time to get out of our clown costumes, we will gladly do so, until then they will suffice. As Fiona said, I am Jumanu, first warrior of the Orlesian Grey Wardens. Although I already held the position of Chapter commander in Orlais, I volunteered for this position. I recognise the importance of rebuilding Ferelden's Order, as do we all." Jumanu said, the dark brown skinned giant seemed to have lost his tribal accent and now spoke with a distinctive Orlesian accent, very pronounced and precise.
Duncan studied the criss –cross markings of scars that were interrupted by the white spiral tribal tattoos that were barely visible beneath the powdered face of the genteel giant. Jumanu stepped back and picked up a slab of beef, placing it between two large slices of crusty bread and taking a giant sized mouthful before washing it down with a full glass of wine, and then quickly refilling his glass for another mouthful of the exquisite Orlesian wine.
"The next of our Wardens is Sharielle, or Shar to her friends." Fiona said as the elf stepped forward.
Duncan watched as the Dalish elf stepped towards him and nodded her head in acknowledgement. She was tall for an elf, perhaps a few inches short of Arabella, who was indeed tall for a female human. The elven features were very pronounced, chiselled as if in stone. She was attractive in a sense, but had a wild untamed and rough look to her that would undoubtedly make less confident men think twice about approaching her. Under the wig, she painted a curious picture. Indeed she seemed even more ridiculous than Jumanu if that was possible. She wore loose fitting green robes, adorned with emeralds of exquisite craftsmanship. She looked uncomfortable in her delicate silver slippers. She was perhaps more at home with a thick pair of heavy leather Dalish striding boots.
"Greetings to you, Sharielle. You are a Dalish elf for a guess. Your people are rarely seen outside of the woodlands." Duncan stated.
"Warden Commander, I thank you for the welcome greeting. Indeed my people are not fond of venturing beyond the forests, but there are those of us who seek knowledge of the outside world and the Grey Wardens offer a perfect tool with which to satisfy our curiosity."
"And have you found anything to your liking so far, Sharielle?"
"I have found much to my liking and much that I loathe about human society. But how will I learn which I loathe and that which I like unless I experience it for myself. My people are too ignorant to dismiss all humans as evil, though many are, many are not and deserve the chance to prove themselves."
"Then I can only hope we meet your expectations."
"We shall see, Warden Commander. Fiona speaks highly of you, that is a good start, we trust in her words." Sharielle said before sitting back down.
Before Fiona had the chance to introduce the next Warden, a burly loud mouthed dwarf belched several times as he forced a plateful of food into his mouth and proceeded to grind away until every last piece of meat was eaten.
"Well I'm certainly pleased to make your acquaintance, Duncan. We've heard nothing but good tales from the wee lassie here and I for one wanted to see this man that she was talking so much about. I must admit though, I thought you'd be …. I don't know …. Bigger …. Perhaps."
The dwarf was a barrel-chested warrior of considerable girth. His long braided beard hung to below his waist and was jet black in colour.
"This, Duncan, is Haragon. Some call him Hara, usually his drinking partners. From the slums of Orzammar to the Royal City of Val Royeaux. Let's just say the people of Orlais weren't quite ready for a half crazed berserker setting up home in their numerous taverns."
"Well met, Haragon. I trust the food and wine are to your liking?"
"It certainly is, laddie. It'll do for now, but I've got to tell ya, I've got a ravenous appetite. And what's this about some place you call The Pearl, it's been recommended to me on numerous occasions."
"Haragon, this is not the place …." Fiona protested, her cheeks reddening slightly at the implication of what the dwarf was saying.
"Ahhh,Ahhhh, hold on to your knickers lassie, no need to get all beetroot faced about a little of the old …."
"Haragon, enough, this is not the place for barroom banter."
"Have it your way, no need to get your panties in a twist."
"You will have to forgive our short, stout friend his shortcomings, Warden Commander. He is a lowly dwarf, and knows no better, being in good company has done nothings whatsoever to change his despicable manners. I will take the opportunity to introduce myself, while our good lady Fiona regains her composure. I am Jessebeth, Jess if you like, master Orlesian bard, among other things." She lifted the wig from her head and shuck out her thick red locks, waist length fiery red straight hair. She smiled wickedly as Alistair's jaw almost dropped through the floor in surprise.
"The lad likes ya, Jess, old girl. Ya can see it a mile away. He can barely pick himself up off the floor. I guess he thinks he's in for a roll in the hay later." Haragon shouted through fits of laughter.
"No … I never thought such a thing, please accept my apologies if I seemed rude …." Alistair blustered to the older woman who he didn't realize was twice his age, though still very attractive.
Jessebeth grinned and let out a little laugh. "Don't let that old fool embarrass you, Alistair. The only woman who shows him any interest is paid to."
"Greetings, Jessebeth. I hope you find it as easy to settle in here as your friend Haragon surely has." Duncan said, regarding the pair of them curiously, it seemed a very mismatched pair of friends, but there was something in their banter that said they cared fondly for each other.
"Over there in the corner, skulking about as usual is Garrett. A master rogue and formally of the Crows." Jess continued as the conversation began running away from Fiona as she fought to keep her slight annoyance in check.
"Skulking the she devil cries, from the mistress bitch of skulking rogues herself." The city elf Garrett said with a thick Orlesian accent. He was perhaps the only one who actually seemed at home in his costume, no doubt he had cause to disguise himself thus on many occasions, considering his previous calling.
"And lastly, our resident Battle Mage, Calleth. Only his slowly slipping sanity and a taste for all things arcane, keep him from joining the ranks of the Grey Warden Archmagi. But nevertheless we wouldn't want to do without him in a fight." Jess continued, pointing to the small man sat at the end of the bench, slowly nibbling on bright red apple.
"I must say, Warden Commander, it is an honour to finally meet you." The man said, although he seemed too fascinated with his piece of fruit to actually look at Duncan.
"I am pleased to meet all of you, and hope we will have plenty of opportunities to talk in the coming days. Please make yourselves at home. Alistair will take care of anything you need if it's within our means to provide it. If you would, Fiona, could we perhaps speak alone for a short time, there is much we have to discuss." Duncan said, eager to get Fiona alone to question her on some suddenly urgent and pressing matters.
"You wish me to remain here, Duncan?" Alistair questioned, with something of a lost look on his face, as though he were completely out of his depth. Not to mention Jess made him more than a little nervous and seem something like a young and curious squire in short legged pants.
"Of course, Alistair. Until your Joining Ritual you are the go between for all matters between myself and the other Grey Wardens."
"Oh, well that's good to know." He said sulkingly. His face ever reddening as Jess teased him with her wicked grin.
Duncan and Fiona left the Guest Study behind them, the conversation inside in full swing. Alistair was seemingly the centre of attention. When they were far enough away, Duncan turned to Fiona and reached his arms around her before pulling her in and giving her a long wet kiss on the cheek, not a lovers kiss, but one you give a loving and dear friend whom you had not seen in over ten years. Fiona let him take her in his arms and lift her onto her tiptoes, planting a long kiss on her forehead.
"It is so good to finally see you again, Fiona. I was beginning to think we were destined never to meet again."
"And you, Duncan, look at you, a middle aged man now, and soon to be married If I hear right."
"You do indeed hear right, Fiona. Today I became the proud father of twins, a boy and a girl."
"Really, congratulations. I am sorry our arrival wasn't at a more convenient time."
"For you, Fiona, I will make any time convenient. You cannot share the times we did and forget how close the three of us were."
"I often think of Maric. I would like to think that he's still alive somewhere, and merely hiding from his responsibilities as king. It's possible isn't it Duncan? Afterall they never discovered the ship or any survivors, perhaps he simply wished to live his life elsewhere." Fiona said as tears built up behind those magnificent eyes of hers. It was obvious to Duncan that she still loved Maric and perhaps always would.
"It is possible I suppose, I guess we will never really know for certain."
"But I have dreamt of it so many times, he returns when his kingdom most needs him, it is so real."
"It's always hard to let go of those we love, Fiona."
"And what of Alistair? He seems a fine young man, I had no idea we would meet so suddenly."
"If I had known it was you coming I would have arranged for you to meet at a time of your choosing, but circumstances didn't allow for such pleasantries. He has indeed grown into a fine young man and will make an excellent Warden. Your son does you proud, Fiona."
"My son, I like the sound of that. But he can never know, it wouldn't be fair after all this time out of his life. He believes his mother died in child birth."
"That is a decision for you and you alone, Fiona. I have done my best to ensure he had a good if somewhat simple life and upbringing. Perhaps in time you may feel as though you can tell him the truth."
"Perhaps, but I don't want to finally be near him and then lose him again simply through foolish pride. Maybe we can become good friends, maybe that will be enough."
"The decision is yours, Fiona. But we have other things to discuss and quickly, I must make some time to get back to Ellani, she puts up with a lot from me, more than I can expect her to cope with and remain happy."
"Go to her, Duncan. We can speak later. Perhaps I'll use the time to get to know my son."
"Are you certain, I don't like just wandering off and putting my own problems ahead of everything else."
"Of course I'm certain, Duncan. You should be with your future wife and the mother of your children, make the best of them while you can, Duncan, who knows what will come in the future."
"Then I will leave you in the capable company of your son, don't let his bashfulness fool you, Fiona, he is a very capable young man."
"See you later, old friend. Wish them well from me, I hope to meet them soon."
"You will, Fiona, I promise." Duncan leaned over and gave her one final kiss on the forehead and turned and walked away. Fiona breathed deeply, counted to ten and walked back into the Guest Study.