This one's a little short, I've been having some trouble actually sitting down and writing lately, so a couple small chapters here and there will get things rolling again I think. Once my winter break starts at school, updates will be more regular. I hope. Anyway, enjoy and sorry I'm late!
The sun was just beginning to peep meekly through the clouds by the time Alistair and the others were nearly upon Redcliffe. Their little scrap with the darkspawn had been about an hour ago, and Alistair noticed, with no small amount of concern, Areth's pace had slowed a bit, and she had taken to leaning on Ram moreso than usual. Despite her constant and not at all convincing insistence to Leliana that she was "absolutely fucking fine", the tension in her jaw betrayed her. At least, it did to Alistair. He'd seen that look plenty of times after particularly grueling training sessions with the Templars. He himself had been a frequent user of that brand of bravado after mandatory early morning jogs.
"Maker, that seems like forever ago." Alistair thought to himself, craning his neck to gaze at the wispy clouds that hung just above the horizon. In the distance, there was a faint shimmer on the surface of Lake Calenhad, just beyond Redcliffe's village square. They were definitely close now, and the realization of it sat heavier in Alistair's stomach than his own cooking. This definitely wasn't the type of reunion he had imagined with Arl Eamon. Alistair had at least hoped that he would be slightly inebriated the next time he ran into the man. Just to settle the nerves a touch.
Sucking in a deep breath of chilly air, Alistair steeled himself for what was to come. He had to find a sneaky way to get Areth away from the rest of the group to tell her his little secret. It was definitely a little secret, nothing to get worked up over.
"Who are you kidding, Alistair?" The man thought bleakly. He hadn't known the other Warden nearly long enough to be dropping that kind of information on her, but it wasn't like there were any other options. She was going to find out, one way or another, once they got to Redcliffe. The elf was already suspicious enough of humans, she didn't need to find out from someone else, particularly Arl Eamon, that he was hiding something. Although, and maybe it was just his imagination, Areth did seem to be warming up to him. She no longer looked apt to strangle him every time he opened his mouth, at least. Alistair chalked that up to a victory in his corner. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to tell her, all things considered.
"Areth, could I talk to you a minute? Alone?" He called out to her, cutting through the weary silence their group had lulled into. Areth's head craned lazily back, her eyes somehow managing to look both annoyed and somewhat intrigued.
"What about?" She groused. Alistair fought the urge to roll his eyes. So it wouldn't be quite as painless as he thought it would be.
"Super-sensitive, even-more-super-important Grey Warden stuff."
The elf shrugged at Leliana and hung back to keep pace with Alistair. The man waved to Morrigan, Sten, and Leliana.
"We'll catch up soon enough." He said. Morrigan and Sten went back to trudging on as if he hadn't even said anything at all. Leliana cast an odd look at Areth, who was picking at her teeth with her pinky nail. Every bit the image of Ferelden's last hope, apparently. Ram, true to his typical form, was practically glued to the elf's side. Areth patted the massive beast on the head.
"Go keep an eye on Leliana for me, will you?" She asked in a soft tone that was reserved for her dog alone. With a gentle whine, Ram trotted off toward the redhead's retreating form, paws thumping against the caked mud.
"Doesn't have a soft spot for Leliana, she says." Alistair mused, trying to keep the smirk from his lips.
The pair stood in awkward silence until the rest of the group had disappeared from earshot. Once he was sure they were gone, Alistair gulped in a deep breath before speaking.
"There's something you should know about me." Alistair sighed, clenching and unclenching his gauntleted fists. Areth's gaze drifted back over to him listlessly.
"What's that, then?"
"I-" Alistair began, then choked off. This was hard. He'd never had to actually tell anyone this before. Anyone important enough to know had already found out about nine months before Alistair was born, Duncan included.
"Let me guess." Areth began, nodding sagely. "You're really bad at finishing sentences."
Alistair managed to laugh at that, then shook his head resolutely.
"It's about my... lineage." He said, his fists clenched again. This time, Areth was gazing at him skeptically. She removed one glove to rub at her bad eye, the other peering at him like he was a particularly annoying child that wouldn't stop pestering her, yet she still clung to a shred of patience. And here Alistair thought they were starting to get along. It was an odd characteristic the elf had, he noticed. She was never really that friendly, but sometimes she'd joke around and be amenable enough. Then an hour later she was back to her surly distaste for all humans. It was growing exhausting and it had barely been a couple of weeks since they'd met. It certainly made having any meaningful discussion with her more difficult than taming a bronto.
"I'm waiting with bated breath here, Alistair."
Alistair grunted. "Alright, then. Might as well just be out with it." He began, clapping his hands together. "I am none other than the bastard child of King Maric!"
For a moment, Areth didn't react at all. Alistair began to panic that she would have no idea who Maric even was. It's not like he had been around Ferelden recently, being dead and all, and the Alienages didn't have schools. Human royal lineage was probably the least important thing to the elves. However, the tips of her ears twitched and Areth's eyebrows slowly ascended.
"The king? The one with the crown, cape, all that shit?" She said, her tone slowly rising. "That would make you Cailan's brother. I knew you two looked similar, I saw it at Ostagar!"
Oh, so she had noticed.
"And since Cailan is... dead, that makes you-"
Alistair threw up his hand. "Nobody." He said sharply. Areth's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean, nobody?" She practically hissed. Alistair tried not to groan in frustration. Being the heir to the throne was probably the least pertinent part of his identity. At least, to him. He wasn't Prince Alistair, he was just… Alistair. He'd never lived the royal life, and he was never treated as anyone particularly special. The whole "royal lineage" thing was just a technicality caused by the fact that his real father was the King of Ferelden. A minor technicality. The only reason he'd thought it was important to disclose was the fact that Arl Eamon was a rather shrewd fellow, with a known distaste for Teyrn Loghain. And Alistair was the best chance the Arl had at making sure Loghain would never become a true ruler of Ferelden. Alistair wasn't too keen on letting himself be a pawn in their geopolitical war games. There was an Archdemon to be killed, after all. Explaining all of that to the rather peeved elf, however, seemed a bit of a chore, so Alistair shrugged, deciding to settle into the role of the hapless moron she expected him to be.
"Could you really see me being much of a king?" He said, trying to sound as harmlessly affable as possible. Areth's expression grew contemplative before she nodded.
"Good point." She agreed. A little too quickly, Alistair noted. That would leave a tiny bruise on his pride.
And that was it. The earth was still planted firmly under his feet, and Areth wasn't treating him any differently. To her, he was still just dumb old Alistair. As it should be. He was glad she wasn't going to be pushing this king thing. He was certain he would never hear the end of it from Arl Eamon, but at least he had Areth on his side in this, at least. The support of the only other remaining Warden in Ferelden wouldn't be something for the Arl to sneeze at. For a moment, Alistair wondered if he would make a good king. He hadn't seen Eamon in years and was already planning how he could get his way with the man and still have his military support. Alistair mentally scoffed. He didn't really relish the notion of sneaking around and planning meetings as a way of life. Hacking darkspawn to bits was decidedly more up his alley.
"So was that it?" The elf probed, snapping Alistair from his reverie.
"Oh, um... I guess so, yeah." Alistair fumbled awkwardly. His fellow Warden nodded slowly, back to looking thoroughly bored with him.
Areth turned to leave, then paused. Blinking back at him, the little elf's jaw set in a curious way.
"Could you maybe… Um…" She faltered, gesturing uneasily at her left eye. "It's just a little better when someone is over there, y'know? And Ram isn't here, which was kind of stupid of me..."
Alistair nodded, deciding not to comment on the crimson hue that was coloring her cheeks.
"Thanks, Alistair." The elf mumbled as Alistair began to walk alongside her.
"Oh, I'm always game for a pleasant stroll with a lovely… erm, lady." He teased. A finger poked sharply at a weak point in his armor. Despite his yelp, Alistair was actually sort of impressed that Areth had managed to target something that was on her left side. Noticing that her limp was still somewhat persistent, Alistair offered his arm.
"Oh go fuck yourself."
"And here I thought we were going to go braid each other's hair."
"I liked your brother better, plus his hair was better for braiding."
"Ouch."
Yeah, short chapter, but it was a fun little one to write. Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are, as always, appreciated! Thanks, guys!
