Maric

In all truth, we'd never intended for Oriana to be Nerissa's lady-in-waiting. We knew that she was much more than she'd pretended to be, and we also knew that Fergus would like her. We certainly hoped it would be like that, not only because she was a nice person, but because she'd felt like family from the very beginning.

We were right, of course. For the first couple of months, Fergus would keep his distance, casually walking in the women's room and asking the silliest questions. It was hilarious to see him get tongue-tied whenever she was near. The courtyard dummies smiled at the sight of his erring blows whenever she passed by. My parents knew what was going on, but said nothing. And Oriana knew what effect she had on him, but she just lowered her eyes and smiled.

After the spring salon before our eleventh birthday, Fergus announced to my father that he'd be asking for her hand, for which he figured he had to go to Antiva. My father suggested he ask Oriana first how she felt about it, because Antiva was too long a voyage to make for nothing. Oriana said yes, but she said that she'd be writing to her family to inform them of her decision, not to ask them what they thought about it. My parents gave them their blessing, and thus Oriana became officially part of the family.

The wedding attracted a lot of attention from many of the important families of Ferelden. Even the Arl of Redcliffe came to it. I remember thinking how young his wife looked in comparison to him –in spite of her matronly ways and her gigantic belly-, and I pointed it out to Nerissa, who looked at the arl and the arlessa disapprovingly for the rest of the celebrations.

"And she's Orlesian!" I whispered to her.

"I hate her accent," she stated, and went back to her newly-found apathy.

We had to share the bedroom because of the great number of guests that were staying in the castle. The night of the wedding, I got into bed, and she was already lying there. She looked very small when her hair was down. I recall wanting to talk about the events of the day, but she grunted and turned around to sleep.

I lay there silently for a while. We had never referred to the magic incident again. I think we both wanted to pretend that nothing had happened that day. But I was getting tired of not being able to talk to her. She was my twin sister. Her pain had always been my pain, her joy my joy. I didn't like to be left aside, and I told her so.

"Why can't you talk to me anymore? Are you embarrassed? Are you afraid?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Gwyn," she said.

"But we must talk about it. It's been months since that happened, and we've never mentioned it to anyone. Are you so disgusted by my—by what happened with me that you don't want to—?"

She turned around and faced me. "You think this is about you?"

"Well, I'm the one who's been ignored since we came back from South Reach. You have had no trouble talking to Mum or Oriana."

She was very quiet. In the darkness, I wasn't able to see her face, but her voice was very clear when she said, "It's not about you. But I don't want to talk about it."

Part of me was relieved – still, when I reached out to touch her, she recoiled and said, "Good night, brother." I withdrew my hand slowly.


"I think it would be good for you to travel with dad," she said some weeks later. We were going down for breakfast. "He'll be in Redcliffe for a few days. I heard him saying that to mum last night."

"What? Why's he going to Redcliffe?"

"The arl's son was born and he's bringing a present. And the king will be there as well."

I grabbed her by the arm.

"King Maric? Our king? The stuff of legends?"

"You sound excited," she smiled.

"You don't get the chance to see a king every day! You should come with us!"

"I think I'll pass, thank you."

"Come on, it'll be fun, I promise! Please?"

"No, Gwyn," and she headed into the dining hall and sat by Oriana, who had just returned from Antiva and was regaling my mother with stories of merchants and lovers, princes and assassins.

My father was happy to see that I wanted to go with him, and for the first time in months, I felt better. I packed a few books for the evenings –I'd had trouble sleeping ever since the incident– and I went to look for Nerissa. I saw her walking towards the front of the castle; her steps were hurried, as if she was late for something. She turned around and for some reason I hid behind some plants. She resumed her walk and I followed her carefully. She went into the chapel and closed the door behind her. Going after her right away would be silly, so I waited for a while outside.

When I entered, I saw Nerissa and Mother Mallol talking in hushed voices. Mallol raised her head and called me. Nerissa didn't look back.

"Come here, child. Your sister and I were talking about you."

Nerissa gave her a strange look, excused herself and left the chapel. Mother Mallol took me by the hand and invited me to take a seat. I had avoided that place for months, and she knew it.

"Nanny has told me you haven't been sleeping well, child. Is there something troubling you?"

"I… No. What was Nerissa doing here?"

Mallol smiled gently. "You know that I can't tell you that. Suffice it to say that your sister is in need of a friendly ear and I am more than glad to be that instrument."

"But why has she cast me away? I'm worried about her," I blurted out. "She won't talk to me or spend time with me like we used to… And I don't understand why." I felt a lump growing in my throat and I stopped talking.

"Gwyn… Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I looked at her. Perhaps it was time to say something. Suddenly I felt my mouth dry and dusty. My heart was beating fast under her kind gaze. I knew I had to say it.

"Mother… I can… I could… I mean, I am…"

"Gwyn!" Nerissa shouted behind me. "Father's looking for you! It's urgent!"

I looked at her without really seeing her. My mind was confused. My sister held me by the arm, said something to Mallol and dragged me away.

"What were you thinking? You idiot!" she muttered as soon as we were out from the chapel.

"I…"

"I can't believe it… You were going to tell her!"

"I thought you— I thought she knew, and she was waiting for me to say it!"

Nerissa raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really think I could do that?" Her voice was contained, but there was a certain tinge of fury that scared me.

"I feel I really don't know you anymore," I said. She let go of my arm and stepped back. Her waist-length hair covered most of her face.

"Good," she whispered, and ran away.


The next day, my father and I set off at dawn. My sister hadn't come down for dinner the night before, and my heart still felt heavy and weary. My father seemed to perceive that, for he tried to cheer me up by telling me stories of the time of the revolution. I played along and asked him many questions that he answered gladly.

We made a stop at a tavern overlooking Lake Calenhad. We had a good view of the lake and Kinloch Hold. I remember thinking that the tower looked beautiful in the sunset, and for a moment I considered telling my father the truth. But my sister's face came to my mind, and I decided against it.

We arrived in Redcliffe the following day. We hardly had time to get changed when we were called for supper. The arl's brother was there, and as soon as I saw him, I thought he was a nice man. He shook my hand, called me "young man" all the time, and told me stories about the Free Marches, from the time he'd lived there. The arlessa looked even prouder than before, if that was possible, and Arl Eamon was beside himself. The baby was a boy, and that was 'the way it was supposed to be'.

After dinner, my father, Arl Eamon, and Lord Teagan retired to the arl's study, and I was free to wander around the house for a while. As I was walking down a corridor, admiring the paintings and writing an account of the journey for my sister, someone ran past me, hitting me on the shoulder and making me drop my diary.

"Come back here, you rascal!" A woman came out of the kitchen, covered in sweat and wielding a rolling pin. She froze when she saw me. "Oh! My apologies!" she said, before going back in.

I stood there, not really knowing what to do, and after a while, I tried to find my way back to my room. While I was going by a room, I heard the arlessa's voice arguing with someone.

"… inacceptable, mon cher! Now that many noble families are visiting us, it's time to look for another place for it; I don't want that filthy thing in my house!"

The voice of a man replied something –I assumed the man was the arl– but I couldn't hear what he said – only her reply, in her very marked Orlesian accent.

"I'm sure he will not want to see it. You have to get it… him… out of the house. The Chantry will be more than willing to take an orphelinif we make a generous contribution."

"I've told you many times, Isolde," Arl Eamon's voice came out louder, "that I am responsible for that child. And you know why. You can't question me on this."

"But darling! It… He is insupportable! The cook is tired of chasing him out of the kitchen! I certainly don't want that near Connor."

Arl Eamon said something that I couldn't hear, but then the arlessa's voice came out softer, like a purr.

"Now Connor and I are your famille, Eamon. Your sister is gone, and your brother… Well, he doesn't really matter. This is holding us back. This child is just a stain—"

"My dear, you need to get some rest and it's getting late. They will be arriving tomorrow and there are still many things left to do."

I heard steps getting closer and I ran towards the end of the corridor. I bumped into my father, who had come out to look for me.

"There you are! I was beginning to get worried. Did you see the armory?"

"Er… Yes, of course. You know how much those things interest me…"

"You're right," my father chuckled. "For a moment I thought I was talking to Fergus. Maker, you look so much like him. I can't believe you're all so grown-up…"

I patted him on the arm and bid him good night. It was a stormy night and the rain always made me feel sleepy.


The next morning the castle felt alive. Servants were running up and down the corridors, polishing armor, dusting chairs, brushing the pack of mabari so that their fur would glisten in the sun. I felt the excitement as well, and went out into the courtyard, hoping to get a glimpse of King Maric when he rode up the hill.

"Ahchoo!"

"Maker bless you!" I said, without thinking.

"Thank you," a boy answered, sniffling.

I looked at him. He was washing up some gardening tools in a barrel. His face and clothes were stained with mud, and the tip of the nose was red, as if he'd caught a cold. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and then put both hands in the barrel, fishing for the tools.

"Something you need?" he asked. I shook my head and stood there.

"You're the boy from last night! The one who ran away from the cook."

The boy dropped the things. "I… I'm sorry, m'lord. I didn't mean to hit you—"

"Oh, don't worry!" I said, while I helped him pick up the objects. "My name's Gwyn Cousland. And you are?"

"It's Alistair, m'lord." He shook my hand warmly.

"You live here in the castle with your family, Alistair?"

"I… No, m'lord. I'm… I'm just a servant," he blushed and looked away. "But I do live here, yes."

I said nothing further about that for fear I'd embarrass him again. "Say, Alistair – have you seen the king before?" By the look in his face, I knew I'd made the wrong question again. I wished my sister was there – she always knew how to make small talk.

"No, m'lord. King Maric hasn't been here for as far as I can remember."

"So… How old are you?"

"I'll be ten next Harvestmere." He waited for my next question and he looked a bit like an animal that's afraid to make a sudden movement and fall into a trap. After a while, he noticed my diary.

"If I may ask, what are you reading?"

"This? Oh, no, this is not a book. This is just a journal I keep about the things I'm seeing in this journey. It's for my sister to read. I have a twin sister."

"I wish I had a sister. Or a brother."

"I also have an older brother…" The words died as soon as they'd come out. Shut up, Gwyn – stop rubbing it in his face, I told myself. "Say… Are there any interesting stories about Redcliffe or the castle?"

"Oh yes! There's a story about the Avvar…" His eyes lit up when he told me the story. I'd already read about it, but I smiled and nodded.

We talked for a long time, and he showed me different places of the castle that contained beautiful ancient objects. But when we got to the kennels, he said he had to go back to the stables, lest someone told him off for not having finished his duties.

I went back outside and was about to start writing about everything that Alistair had shown me, when I saw a commotion at the other side of the bridge. There was a crowd that possibly comprised all the villagers. Even though I was far away, I could hear the cheering very clearly. And then I saw him.

He was riding a superb stallion. His long, golden hair was flowing in the wind – it was his personal banner. His head was crowned by the daylight, and his armor shone like the sun itself. He was followed by the prince, who kept turning around and waving at the crowd enthusiastically. I wanted to alert the people in the castle, but they had all come out to the courtyard. Arl Eamon, Lord Teagan and my father were standing at the bottom of the stairs. My father smiled at me – I must have been beaming with joy. And then I saw Alistair. He was standing behind a large tree. The excitement in his face did not really reflect joy. It was… uncertain. I ran towards him.

"He's here! King Maric's here!"

He nodded and swallowed hard. I noticed that Arl Eamon was looking at us; Alistair saw him as well. He lowered his head and said, "Excuse me," and disappeared into a shed.

I was going to follow him, but the king had reached the courtyard. He dismounted gracefully and gave the reins to a stable boy.

"Begone, foul beast!" he said to the horse. "I'll be happy if I don't see a horse again in my life. Eamon!" His voice was deep and jovial. He briefly hugged the arl and patted his back. "Congratulations! It was high time the Guerrins had new blood, even if—"

"Your Majesty," Teagan said hurriedly when he noticed the arl's frown. "It is so good to see you! For a moment I thought you'd forgotten about us."

"Never, Teagan. Although it is true that, considering how far you are from Denerim and my unholy hatred of horses, I thought it would be easier to forget this place altogether," he laughed and Teagan chuckled in deference.

"You remember Teyrn Cousland, my lord?" Eamon said.

My father stepped forward and bowed. "It is an honour to see you again, Your Majesty."

The king reached out and shook my father's hand. "Bryce! Of course, how's the family? Did you bring them with you?"

"One of my sons is here, my lord." He beckoned and I trotted towards them. "This is one of my twins, Gwyn."

"How do you do, Gwyn?" He offered me his hand and I kissed it.

There was an awkward silence.

"Well, I don't usually shy away from kisses, but for the record, I prefer women." He roared with laughter. My face felt as if it was on fire. He patted me on the head as if I was a puppy.

By this time, Prince Cailan had reached the castle. He looked very much like a younger version of his father, but his features were more delicate. King Maric himself introduced us to him. He must have been sixteen years old at the time, and he looked much younger than my brother. He hugged his uncles affectionately and said he was starving, so we went in for lunch.


When the meal was finished, the arl asked us to go to the meeting hall for some music and entertainment. We were getting to the hall when I spotted Alistair coming out of a side room, carrying two shields to polish. "Alistair!" I shouted, and I pointed to the king.

King Maric turned around to look, and Alistair became paralyzed.

"Friend of yours?" the king asked me.

"Yes. Alistair, this is King Maric."

"Hello, Alistair," King Maric said slowly.

Alistair bowed and murmured, "Your Majesty."

"And this is Prince Cailan."

Alistair said, "Greetings, Your Highness."

But Cailan's eyes had already wandered off towards the open door of the armory. "Ooh, swords!" he said, and ran off into the room. Alistair lowered his eyes, bowed, and exited. I felt uncomfortable for him, and was considering refraining myself from opening my mouth for the rest of my life, when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Who was that boy?"

"His name's Alistair, Your Majesty," I repeated stupidly.

"You said so before. How long have you known him?"

"We've just met, my lord. He lives here in the castle."

"Walk with me, Gwyn, and tell me about him."

I quickly told him everything I knew about Alistair: how nice he was, the fact that despite having no family he was the most cheerful boy I'd ever met, and how smart he was.

"If only he could receive some education. He knows how to read and write, but he deserves more."

"Why do you think so? He is, after all, a servant."

I hesitated to reply, but the king looked at me expectantly.

"I… Well… Because he's special, Your Majesty. He has a good head and a good heart. I think that if he's given the chance, he could be a Chantry scholar."

"A scholar?" The king laughed. I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment again. "As if we needed more of those. Not a warrior?"

"I—I don't know, my lord," I babbled. But Maric seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.


I didn't see Alistair for the rest of the day. At night, I smuggled some of the cheese and fruit that we had for dinner and went to the stables. There I found Alistair gazing at an amulet.

"I thought you might like this," I said, and I gave him the little pouch.

"What's this? Cheese? Thank you, it's my favourite!" He nibbled on a piece timidly.

"Listen… I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in any way. It wasn't my intention."

"Oh… No, it's… It was nothing. It's just that sometimes I feel like I don't belong in here, you know? I probably don't, anyway."

I sat next to him and put my arms around my knees. "Hey… I've been thinking. I could ask my father if you can come with us. It's not that you'll be missed here…"

He stopped eating and glanced at me.

"I mean, it can't be much worse than this…"

He stared at me.

"Andraste, I'm really bad at this." I buried my face in my knees. He didn't say anything, but I heard him chuckle.

"Thanks for the meal," he said quietly. I nodded, got up and left.


Two nights later, I was going back to my room when I saw the king entering the arl's study. He closed the door carelessly behind him, so it was left ajar. I was going to climb the stairs when I heard the king's voice saying 'Alistair'. Curiosity got the best of me, and I moved closer to the study room.

"… not interested," I heard Arl Eamon say.

"Maybe you're right, but let's face it: your Orlesian wife must be dying to get rid of him. After all, isn't that their pastime, getting rid of people?"

"… Your Majesty; please."

"Fine. But I think it's a good idea, Eamon, and I'd like to see it carried out."

"My lord, there's no need…"

"I'm not asking, Eamon."

"… Yes, Your Majesty."

I heard the sound of a chair moving and I sprinted towards the stairs. I ran all the way to my room and got into bed as soon as I could.


On the morning before our departure, my father and I woke up very early to have a little breakfast before heading for the village to buy some things for my mother. As we were going to the dining room, we heard Alistair shouting.

"No, please! I promise I'll be good!"

"I'm sorry, Alistair."

"I don't know what else I can do for you, but please, give me a chance!"

"This isn't really my decision."

"Please…" His voice was infinitely sad.

"Ser Donall will escort you when you've finished packing. But don't worry, I'll come and visit as soon as you've finished settling— Alistair, no!"

There was a dull thump, and Alistair stormed out of the room. He passed by my side but I remained silent. I wanted to reach out and grab him by the hand, but he picked up speed and ran out of the castle. I followed him and saw that he'd missed the last step of the flight of stairs, and had slipped on a puddle of mud. At that time, Lord Teagan arrived from the village. I saw him get close to Alistair and say something, but the boy shook his head and ran into the courtyard shed.

That was the last time I saw him. We left the following day. When we stayed at the inn near Lake Calenhad, I revised the notes I'd taken in Redcliffe. I couldn't help thinking that I'd had something to do with whatever decision Arl Eamon had made, and I wished I hadn't talked to the king about Alistair. Ashamed by my actions, which had obviously distressed the friend that I'd made and lost in such a short period of time, I tore off the pages that talked about him, and when I gave the diary to my sister, I told her that they'd got covered in mud.

Nerissa kissed me and thank me for the journal, and when I saw her smile, I thought that everything that had happened between us in the last months had actually never happened. Our little world was fine at last.

We just failed to see that the peace we felt was the calm before the storm.

~.~.~.~

Next Chapter: Desire