"I told you we shouldn't have trusted her from the beginning. She wasn't here for the Inquisition; she was here for herself." Arms in the air, Alanna walked to the other end of the War Table across from Josephine. The Inquisitor kept the ambassador after dismissing the War Council to discuss tying loose ends before their former allies departed.

Josephine's quill tapped against her chin as she watched the Inquisitor's rant. Small sounds of agreement and understanding accented Alanna's upset. Though Josephine had a different opinion, her lips remained sealed.

The Inquisitor stopped, chest heaving, she tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, face red, nostrils flaring. Alanna released a snide huff. "At least her and her husband seem to be better."

Caoilainn had arrived at Skyhold days before the troops she provided. The Wardens and Highever soldiers arrived together, followed by the Ferelden Army the next day. With the utmost strategic manipulation and sheer tenacity, Caoilainn had orchestrated the Ferelden Army to arrive without its King. When Alistair received word, he changed his plans to follow, unable to communicate with Caoilainn for close to five years. The palpable tension between the couple had been easy to detect upon Alistair's arrival to the stronghold.

"I'd like to take the opportunity to remind you, Inquisitor." The low level and gentle cadence of Josephine's voice contrasted Alanna's. "You are referring to the King and Queen of Ferelden."

"And?" Alanna responded without taking a breath. "We are not allied with any country. We owe them nothing."

"This is true. Yet, if you do not wish to obtain another enemy, it is best to maintain diplomacy. Forgive my forwardness, Inquisitor, but having Ferelden against us may be problematic in the future."

A sigh of defeat released from Alanna. Acknowledgment her chief diplomat's wisdom expressed through the exhale. Alanna's shoulders slouched. "What do you recommend?"

"Another meeting," Josephine's eyes lit up; wheels turning, determining the most effective strategy, she leaned a hip against the table. "You will need to apologize. The Queen of Ferelden is a difficult woman and remedying the situation will be a delicate matter. But her absence from the throne gives her less influence. Your concordance with the King is my concern."

Arms crossed, the Inquisitor shook her head. "I'm not apologizing. She was using us; I know it." She looked at the anchor on her hand, relating it to the tasks ahead. "We'll just have to get this over with before they have a chance to make things difficult. For now, I need to talk to my cousin. Could you arrange for tomorrow?"

"As you wish, Inquisitor. I will arrange for a meeting with the young Warden in the morning." Josephine bowed and departed from the War Room.


"She dismissed us!" Caoilainn turned to face Alistair as they walked into their room near the tavern. Alistair secured the door shut behind him and leaned against it, observing his wife in distress. "Can you believe that? She just," Caoilainn nodded to the door, mimicking Alanna's motion for them to leave, "and expected us to leave."

"I know." Failed attempts to refrain from grinning displayed in his amusement. His head turned side to side, showing his humored agreement with Caoilainn's offense. "How dare she."

The spectacle of Caoilainn's outrage made for a livened divergence from the last image he had of the room. The bucket and cloth he washed her with sat the center of the room, her robe amidst the sheets on their bed, but this time she was here. Mournful days spent wallowing in grief and self-pity when he thought he lost her now contradicted by her zealous presence. Ablaze with anger, Caoilainn's bright and fiery temper illuminated the energy in the room. He beheld her with charmed gratitude, tickled by her conviction.

Lost in her rage, Caoilainn overlooked Alistair's joviality. "Exactly! Doesn't she know who I am? Doesn't she know I'm the fucking Queen of Ferelden?" Rushed speech stopped when she took a deep breath. "For the love of Andraste, Alistair what is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing." Alistair pushed off the door to be near her. Caoilainn's rumpled brows expressed dislike of his entertainment with her displeasure. "I don't think the Inquisitor handled her decision in the savviest way possible. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like hearing you claim your place on the throne."

In the years spent avoiding Alistair, Caoilainn separated herself from her title as Queen. She often reserved her use of the position as a last resort when all other means of influence were unsuccessful.

Alistair reached out. Loving hands found her hips, joining at the small of her back. Caoilainn's forearms applied passive pressure against his chest. Resistance to his affection indulged her anger. Cheeks flushed, face scrunched, she struggled to endure her foul attitude longer. "She accused me of endangering their mission. I nearly doubled her army! A quarter losses," Caoilainn rolled her eyes, "that's good for a battle that size! And who is she to insult my mages? Accusing me of abandoning my post."

"There, there, my Queen." The playful rocking of her frame tried to soothe. Caoilainn glared up, her scrunched expression replaced with a dead stare. He smiled down at her. "This might be hard to hear. Brace yourself," he hugged her tighter. An annoyed huff joined the extension of Caoilainn's arms around his neck, finally relaxing into his embrace. "The Inquisitor told the truth," he concluded.

"But-" Caoilainn attempted to defend her dishonesty.

"No," his tone teased as he shook his head. "No buts. Your mages failed to perform in that battle and you abandoned your post. Remember that part where you scared everyone and almost died?"

A defeated sigh released, and Caoilainn rested her face against his chest. Leather armor and fur brushed her cheek. "My mages did the best they could." Her voice neared a whine, attempting to prolong her defensive anger. "I went to save you. You're the fucking King."

He shushed her, calming through his light-hearted condescension. "I am. Try to have patience, my dear. The Inquisition's mission is important- even if they don't want our help. I'm sure we'll find a way to make things inconvenient for them at some point after this Corypheus thing is taken down."

Caoilainn leaned back, creating some space. Her hands clasped his arms. Lines of heartfelt worry crossed found her face. Fair skin, strong and elegant features, decorated by fear. The rush of anger from the meeting with the Inquisitor drifted away. The helpless emotions underneath drained as exhaustion settled in. Weeks of traveling had impact. Caoilainn's tired body relaxed as she sighed.

"But the cure, Alistair. I'm not ready to leave yet," she murmured, her eyes glazing as she stared at him. "Morrigan-"

A knock at the door interrupted her statement. The couple's heads turned to look the direction the knock came. Firm hands steadied her hips as Alistair broke from their hug to open the door. Before he reached it, the visitor knocked again and announced her presence.

"I know you two are in there. I heard your voices just a moment ago. Let me in, I need to speak with you."

Stopping mid-step, Alistair glanced over his shoulder to his wife. An annoyed grin stretched across his face. He spoke loud enough for their visitor to hear. "Maker, Caoilainn. You've summoned the witch."

"I heard that, Alistair!" Morrigan called again from the other side of the door. "Stop making us wait out here in this blasted hall."

Holding eye contact with Caoilainn, Alistair's brows wrinkled in question. He mouthed 'us?' to Caoilainn who shrugged in response. She had a small suspicion who Morrigan may have brought, but couldn't be certain.

Alistair took a breath and opened the door. Morrigan stood, brows raised, annoyed with the delay. Beside her stood a boy. Alistair and Caoilainn's exhaustion vanished.

"Oh." The only response Alistair could muster, he stared at the mother and son in the doorway. "Morrigan-"

She interrupted with motion. Bending to meet the boy's height, Morrigan spoke to him. "All right, little man. Say hello to the King and Queen."

"Hello," the boy gave a polite bow. Eyes wide, Caoilainn and Alistair froze as they stared at the young man. "Again," he murmured to Caoilainn. Their previous meeting when Caoilainn arrived at Skyhold had been brief.

Alistair glanced at Morrigan, stumbling over words. "Now's not the-"

"It's polite to introduce yourself to one such as the King," Morrigan gave the boy another direction before Alistair could finish his sentence. The irony of Morrigan being an enforcer of manners did not have a chance to resonate for Alistair. He remained dumbfounded.

"I'm Kieran," he followed his mother's order. His hands touched behind him as he glanced up to Alistair and gave another small bow.

Breath held, Caoilainn witnessed Alistair and his son facing one another on opposite sides of the threshold. Something she could not offer- a child- Morrigan had conceived with one try. Despite certainty of Morrigan's use of magic, Caoilainn suffered a tinge of jealousy. But the envy did not interrupt their harmony; negative emotions cooled and swathed in the unique love she had for her friend. Deep friendship, formed more from understanding and action than spoken affirmation, found camaraderie in unusual circumstances. Morrigan and Caoilainn exchanged a curious glance, standing on either side of the father and son.

Far different from the prior image he had of this meeting, and equally unprepared, Alistair found gratitude. The mood, brighter, absent of the daunting despair of losing his wife, Alistair noticed details of this interaction. Even with his faculties unhampered by grief, he had difficulty finding adequate words.

Certain of the boy's identity from the moment Alistair laid eyes on him, the taint in his blood activated. Strange, the sensation felt different from the bond with other Wardens, and not threatening as with darkspawn. Mature for the age of 10, the boy stood well-dressed with the Warden insignia on his chest. Kieran resembled his mother, dark hair and fair skin, but Alistair recognized his eyes staring back; unsettled peering into a hazel gaze so similar to his own. Alistair thought the boy might have inherited his nose. He scanned the little man's appearance in the few seconds he had before replying.

"I'm Alistair," the King replied, dipping his head to reciprocate the greeting.

"I know." Kieran's brows came to a subtle crease. "Mother told me about you."

"Oh," Alistair's eyes darted to Morrigan. She smirked in reply and tipped her head forward, agreeing with Kieran's statement without divulging detail. "And what did she tell you, exactly?"

Often one with a list of humorous ways to lighten uncomfortable conversations, Alistair found himself lacking. He bent forward at the waist, hands resting on his knees, better meeting the boy's eye level.

"Mother said you are a good King and a kind man." Kieran started, his face calm despite what most boys might find an exciting encounter.

Alistair's glance wandered to Morrigan, though he stayed at Kieran's level. A raised brow and a slight grin crept through Alistair's neutral expression. "Did she now?" The news of Morrigan giving compliments for Alistair required him to double check. His look intended to tease.

Head tilting to the side, Kieran's curious gaze searched for answers. "Yes, but she didn't tell me your blood would be so loud. The song it sings is familiar." His head swayed to the side.

Alistair, unprepared for the unique similarity of this moment to the one from his waking dream, stared at the boy, curious about what connections he might detect. "About that," Alistair mumbled.

Before he could answer, Kieran changed the subject, glancing at Caoilainn and back to Alistair. He grinned, rocking on his feet, an arm gesturing toward the Queen. "Your wife is very pretty."

Unable to withhold a laugh, wrinkles forming at the corners of eyes, Alistair's smile resumed and widened. "Really?" He shrugged, "I think she looks well enough. I certainly didn't pick her for her looks." A glance over his shoulder to Caoilainn found her grinning back, brow arched.

"All right, little man. Time to go play. Say goodbye to Alistair and Caoilainn." Morrigan called to Kieran. He huffed, slumping his shoulders as he glared at his mother. Morrigan's brows lifted, her head tipping to the side and her eyes traveling out the doorway, ushering him to leave.

Kieran released another begrudging sigh as he turned back to Alistair. Once again, such a familiar pair of eyes stared right back at him. A pit sunk in Alistair's belly, tugging his attention to this somber emotion hindering what would have otherwise been a pleasant meeting.

Kieran inclined his weight to be closer to Alistair; the boy lowered his voice. "You're funnier than Mother said you would be. Goodbye, King Alistair." Speechless, Alistair could only nod. Kieran's eyes traveled to the floor in front of him, his cheeks flushed. "Goodbye, Queen Caoilainn."

"Goodbye Kieran," she answered, giving an unnecessary wave Kieran didn't see.

"Run along now, Kieran," Morrigan ordered with a soft tone. Kieran shuffled from the room and down the hallway.

Dumbstruck, Alistair stared out the way the boy left. The moment flashed by, over before he realized what happened. It made for an odd alliance with his memory of Maric the first time Alistair met Cailan.


9:19 Dragon- Denerim Palace

Snow piled in the corners of the exterior hallway. The outfit they made him wear itched; clothes much nicer than those he wore at home. Alistair couldn't feel his gloved fingers from the cold, let alone the hand he was holding. He noticed the splitting wood of the frost covered doors he counted as he walked down the hallway. Denerim Palace, a place he had heard of, seen in passing the few times he visited the city, wasn't as nice as Alistair expected.

Unsure why Duncan brought him here, he followed the order to hold the man's hand. Inconsistent but caring, Duncan had visited Alistair at Redcliffe at least once a year Alistair's entire life. But this was the first time Duncan took Alistair from Redcliffe. Eamon had approved, and Alistair trusted Duncan.

A boy older than Alistair waited by a bench in the courtyard. The boy's clothes, pressed and layered with ornate detail, looked even fancier than Alistair's itchy outfit. Uncertain, Alistair's lingering glance wandered up to Duncan. With a silent nod, Duncan's eyes urged Alistair to walk to the other boy.

Taking tentative steps, Alistair released Duncan's hand and walked to the bench, noticing another man sitting across the courtyard. He was large, donned in royal regalia and spoke with someone Alistair assumed was his assistant. The large man's eyes flickered to Alistair even while he was talking. Alistair knew who the man must be. But why is the King looking at me?

"I'm Prince Cailan Theirin." The older boy announced, his right hand extending in a professional manner Alistair had seen grown-ups use to introduce themselves. Alistair's eyebrows bunched, his gaze following the movement of Cailan's hand before glancing to Duncan again. Why is he doing that?

Cailan glanced at his unreciprocated handshake and brought his hand back to his side. He attempted another greeting. "Your name's Alistair, right?"

How does he know my name? "Yeah," Alistair answered and met Cailan's gaze. Blond hair and blue eyes, something about the older boy looked familiar. "Do I know you?"

"Nope," Cailan answered with a weak smile. "But I've heard about you. Do you want to play?"

Having long since been taught his insignificance, the idea of an older boy, let alone the Prince of Ferelden wanting to play with him seemed laughable. He couldn't hide his humor. Alistair snorted, not noticing Duncan sitting next to the King. A bashful smirk preceded Alistair's question for the Prince. "Why would you want to play with me?"

Bold and brazen, Cailan grinned before he held up his hand. The motion suggested Alistair allow Cailan to whisper something in his ear; Alistair nodded and leaned in. "Don't tell anyone. But you and me, we're brothers. Forever."

While Cailan whispered, Alistair's eyes landed on King Maric. Undistracted, he appeared interested in the meeting of Alistair and Cailan. Leaning forward, King Maric's arms rested on his knees as he watched.

Alistair would never forget King Maric's pensive smile.


The recollection encouraged the differences Alistair made from his father. Something akin to anger spurred within. Shouldn't we tell him? Morrigan wouldn't allow it. Part of their agreement from the night of the ritual, Kieran wasn't to know Alistair as his father. It served Alistair too. As King, having a bastard son with the Witch of the Wilds would be frowned upon. The fact he cared sparked more discontent. Even without a mirror, Alistair recognized the heavy-hearted smile he wore from the one he saw on Maric in his memory.

Acknowledging the similarities between Alistair's childhood and Kieran's roused regret. Not given a choice, the option of having a father absent, Alistair spent his life pondering what could have been. He didn't wish the same for Kieran. But without a plausible alternative, Alistair evaded emotional discomfort with humor.

"I think he likes you, Caoilainn." Alistair stepped to her, standing by her side with a hand resting on her hip. He gave a sideways glance. "He was definitely flirting with you. Quite awkwardly, I might add."

Caoilainn hummed, her head tilted back, eyebrows creased, mocking surprise and intrigue with Alistair's assessment. "Ah… so he's a flirt. Like his father." She watched his reaction from the corner of her eye.

Alistair squinted, mocking displeasure with the connection she made. His free hand adjusted the position of the cord of his spaulders. He watched his hand with rapt and aimless attention. "Yes, well... I suppose it runs in the family. I hope he uses that ability with care as he gets older. Right then."

Morrigan rolled her eyes and sauntered into the room from where she stood in the doorway. Unamused by their banter, her low and impatient voice interrupted. "If you two are done, I have news."

Caoilainn's heart jumped. Cautious excitement teased by potential fulfillment of her initial goal. The solution to her strife and what felt a deep-seated inadequacy relied on a cure to the Calling. Caoilainn held her breath, unable to speak.

Aware of his wife's sudden tension, her body freezing, muscles flexing into rigidity, Alistair spoke for them both. "The good kind, I hope?"

"'Tis good as it can be," Morrigan stood across from the couple. The slight angle of her hips, joined with her lifted arm reflected her nonchalant attitude. She explained more detail about the information she learned from her journey into the Temple of Mythal. "I gained knowledge from the elven temple, ages of wisdom whisper a new understanding of the world. I can hear the taint in your blood, and I know why it keeps you barren."

"Well that's great," Alistair broke his gaze to look at Caoilainn. He joked in a loud whisper. "At first I thought she was kidding, but she really is hearing voices."

Morrigan scowled at him, but Caoilainn's movement interrupted her reply. Eyes wide with intrigue, Caoilainn stepped from Alistair's side to stand across from Morrigan. "Why? Morrigan, what do we need to know? What do we do?"

"The Old Gods are not concerned with your reproduction. Soldering with your blood, charring your insides, the taint grows and strengthens." Morrigan's matter-of-fact explanation provoked blank stares from the couple. "You have borrowed power from the Old Gods and alas, they will call you to the Deep Roads to reclaim it."

"Well, that sounds hopeful," Alistair laughed as his hand met his brow. "Don't be too blunt, Morrigan."

"So what do we do?" Caoilainn's voice eager, eyes sparkling with the excitement she failed to maintain.

Whispers of rituals and blood magic, Morrigan spoke of absolution of the taint for the King and Queen. A cleansing of their bodies, freeing them the disease and its hold. Morrigan provided a hazy description of her plan. The process would require an altar for their purification and a drop of Kieran's blood. Even with the vague report, Alistair refused. He resisted yet another ceremony to follow what Caoilainn already required to purge the red lyrium. The condition of blood magic set his dissent; his opinion strengthened by the need to use his illegitimate son's blood.

Concerned brows furrowed, Morrigan asked about the other ceremony and Caoilainn described. Philippa and Aiden's details, unclear and confusing to Caoilainn and Alistair, incited worry in Morrigan.

"Don't be a fool, Alistair. As I am sure you are both aware, the taint is accelerated for those who complete the Joining during a Blight such as yourselves," Morrigan reported, her critical stare passing between both Alistair and Caoilainn. A new comprehension of the world and its function included a new understanding of the taint. "The red lyrium will expedite it."

Caoilainn nodded, her brows creased with intent. A deep breath in and a purposeful sigh, she turned to Alistair. "I want to try the ritual."

"Caoilainn," Alistair sighed. His hands lifted, palms up, an indirect plea for her to rethink her decision. "We don't even know all it entails."

"I don't have time to wait, Alistair." Her head shaking, she took his hands into hers. "We might have a few years left as it is. If what she says is true, I'll have even less."

"Make this decision with care, Caoilainn." With her warning, Morrigan's expression changed. No longer cool and detached, now she showed empathy. Displeased with the news she must deliver, Morrigan frowned, her brows relaxed. "You may not heal enough from the damage the taint has done to have a child. The cure may be for naught."

Heart sinking into the pit of her stomach, Caoilainn gazed at the floor. The answer seemed simple. An attempt at the cure could save years of her life. But without guarantee for recovery, the latent risks of blood magic may be in vain.

Standing between Alistair and Morrigan, Caoilainn looked at neither. "I'll do it." Her gaze traveled up to Alistair, imploring his willingness. "Please, my love. Consider joining me."

The meeting adjourned after. Morrigan gave a time in two days, justified by a need to collect supplies, secure a location, and speak with the other sorceresses. The explanation made Alistair cringe.