Usual disclaimer…just in case. I don't own these characters, but I do enjoy playing with them very much! No beta so hopefully I've spotted all the errors.

I've searched for any information about how Maric died. All I can find is an enigmatic reference to him dying at sea.

My thanks to NOBLAHBLAHBLAH for an idea that turned into Cailan's view in this chapter.

Thank you also to everyone who has reviewed this story, added it to their favourites or their alerts list. It really is a huge boost to my confidence to know that out their in the internet ether someone likes my story enough to read it.

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Alistair - 9:25 of the Dragon Age – Denerim - Funeral of King Maric of Ferelden

It was raining, Alistair noted. Of course it was. It wouldn't be a good funeral unless everyone was wet as well as miserable! He shivered slightly. Cold, wet and miserable he amended as a chilly wind swept over the mourning crowd.

Alistair was standing towards the back of a sea of faces, back straight, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Officially he was there as part of the Grand Cleric's armed escort. Unofficially, he knew his presence had been requested by the Prince himself. He just wasn't sure why.

He turned his attention to the dais and the golden casket placed upon it, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Prince Cailan and Princess Anora stood next to the casket, their faces pale as the Grand Cleric addressed the crowd. Cailan looked older than Alistair remembered. Older and tired and the image of his…their…father.

He wasn't sure how he was meant to feel. The King of Ferelden was dead. This was a shock to the nation; the King had been a man of middle years, but strong and healthy. His father was dead. That was a different matter. He'd long ago resigned himself to the things he'd never have. A family. A relationship with blood kin. However, it hadn't hurt half as much to have Maric walk away from him, than it had for arl Eamon to push him into the Chantry all those years ago. The child inside Alistair still hurt over that betrayal. The memory of being left still made his heart ache and he shook his head slightly as if to mentally push that memory aside.

Cailan was speaking now; of his father's life and his achievements, of his love for Ferelden and its people, his sense of honour and duty. He watched as Cailan's hand reached out to touch the casket and his voice faltered for a moment before he looked up and scanned the crowd.

His eyes met and held Alistair's long enough for the younger man's heart to jump in his chest. His arms fell to his side and his lips parted slightly in surprise. Cailan spoke of Maric as a man. Loving, yet fallible. A man who was not free of remorse and who had regrets. Some of these, they were told, were easier to live with than others.

Alistair's blood ran fiery hot and time seemed to stand still. For a brief moment, it was just him and Cailan and a lifetime of unspoken words. Cailan gave him a brief, barely perceptible nod before the reality of the situation returned and Alistair was bustled further back by the press of the crowd.

He walked, as fast as he could, and with no sense of where he was going until he found an area of quiet. His back to an alley wall, he slid down, his head in his hands and his eyes closed tight against the molten emotion erupting inside. He tried to use his training to master the sensations and to seek control of them and then threw his head back until it thudded against the wall behind him. His chest was so tight it felt like it was trying to fold in upon itself. No! Not this time. He'd shown control and restraint for too long. He stood up, eyes burning. This time, Grand Cleric be damned, he was going to get drunk!

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Cailan - 9:25 of the Dragon Age – Denerim – after the funeral of King Maric. Cailan's study.

Cailan sat at his desk, his head resting on one hand as he re-read the latest report from the Grand Cleric. Certain phrases stood out. "…formidable and skilled in combat….Loyal… focussed on his duty…talented scholar….righteous…" Cailan allowed himself a sad smile at what followed. "…Inappropriate attempts at humour….reluctant to take position seriously…..tendency to sass his instructors and peers…"

He looked up as Anora entered the room, pushing the paper to one side. "Is everything well?" He asked her. "I'm sorry I left you. I needed some time to myself."

She spied the paper in his hand and sighed, exasperated. "Cailan, you're not reading that again! I don't understand this. Why do you insist on carrying your father's guilt in this matter? Lots of men have bastards…. " You might even have a few of your own, she added silently with a steely glint in her eyes.

Cailan stood, his eyes downcast for a moment before moving around his desk to stand before her. Anora knew him to be a man of flowing words and sweeping gestures. Exuberant warmth and gracious smiles. But the look he gave her now was cold and calculating.

"Whatever you may think of him, Alistair is my brother and of the Theirin bloodline. " His voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

"Cailan, he's a bastard. Pure and simple. You've read the reports. Alistair will amount to nothing. He has no drive and no ambition…" There was a sharp hiss of anger from Cailan and Anora drew back slightly.

"What do you expect, of him, Anora! He was abandoned by everyone who should have cared. My father wronged him, and 'lest you hadn't noticed, he's the only heir to the throne Ferelden has. No woman has come to me with a claim of parentage for her child, and we've been married for a number of years now…." His voice softened as her face fell. "No, no, I have no reproach for you, my love, but I need Alistair. Ferelden needs him, and I can't pretend not to care as my father did. You have your way in many things, Anora. Let me have this one thing."

Anora's eyes narrowed. "As you wish, but you should know that the Landsmeet would never accept him. There's only a handful of people even aware of his existence."

Cailan placed his hands on her shoulders. "Your father knows. I trust him to do what's right should anything happen to me."

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Thanks for reading. I struggled with this one. It was harder than I thought it would be. One more chapter to go. Ostagar.