Chapter 8: Marcail

Starr and Alistair were about halfway to the Chantry when they saw Marcail and Bevin. "Marcail," Starrelena called, upon hearing his mother, they loped over to her. "You boys finished helping the Revered Mother already?"

"She said we'd worked hard and deserved a break. Said we might as well get something to eat while we were out." Bevin replied.

"Well," said Starr, "we were coming to look for you two. Bevin, you can go back to your house and start unpacking your things. You and Kaitlyn don't have to go to Denerim, we've worked something out."

The boys' eyes got big; they grinned at each other and started punching each in their excitement. Alistair looked on in amusement, while Starr looked on in bemusement. Finally, she stopped them, laughing, "OK, you can stop now. Bevin, get a move on so Kaitlyn doesn't have to do everything when she gets back from helping at the castle. Come on, Marcail, we've got work to do too." They walked towards the store and found a quiet corner.

Sitting down on the low wall, Starr hesitantly began, "Marcail, do you remember what I told you about your father?" She waited until he nodded, though he looked confused.

Alistair broke in, "I'm here." Alistair bent down on one knee so they could see each other face to face. "Hello, Marcail," his eyes traveled over Marcail's face in wonderment. It was as if he was seeing him for the first time.

In turn, Marcail examined Alistair to see if he was joking. He looked up at his mother, "Is he really my father?" he said so quietly, she almost didn't hear him.

Just as she was about to answer him, Alistair cut in, "Yes, I am. Your mother was just telling me-" but had to stop when Marcail punched him in the nose.

Starr exclaimed, "Marcail!" and made a move to intervene, but Alistair waved her off.

"No, I understand why he did that," at that, Marcail looked at him quizzically. "Give us a few minutes to get to know each other a little. We'll meet you back at your rooms." Starr looked at him, then Marcail, and nodded in agreement before leaving.

Marcail went to run off, but Alistair grabbed him by the shoulder. "Not so fast, we need to talk. Why don't we go down by the lake?" And so saying, he stood up, took Marcail's hand and started walking. Both of them walked down lost in thought, wondering about the other, wondering how much things would change.

"Why isn't he mad at me? I punched him, he should be angry or something."

"What do I say, how much should I tell him? Maker, he looks so much like me it's like looking in a mirror. He has more self-confidence than I did at that age, I wouldn't have dared punch my supposed father in the nose. He's got a good punch. Bet Starr taught him that, she could throw a punch with the best of them. Is it wrong to feel proud of that?"

When they reached the dock, Alistair motioned Marcail to sit, and then sat down next to him. "I feel like I've done this before, oh wait, I have," thought Alistair wryly. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, then Alistair reached into the little pack he always carried with him, attached to his belt. He pulled out a small package with the rest of the cheese Starr had given him. "Want some cheese?" he asked. He couldn't miss the way Marcail's eyes lit up and thought, as he gave him a piece, "At least we have something in common."

"Why did you leave us?" Marcail asked the question quietly, but Alistair could see the resentment and hurt in the back of his eyes.

"I never left you. Your mother is the best friend I have ever had, and if I had known about you nothing this side of the Fade would have kept me from you," Alistair looked Marcail straight in the eye when he said this, and watched some of the hurt fade. "What did your mother tell you about your father?"

"She said that he was a good man, but that she wasn't able to tell him about me. Later, she said he died at Ostagar. But you aren't dead."

"No, that was a surprise to her. I was there, and almost everybody did die, supposedly including me. Meeting you and seeing her, I'm rather glad I didn't."

Marcail thought about that for a minute. "How come you're not mad I punched you? Mom didn't like it, I can tell you that."

"I don't think Moms are supposed to like things like that. Tell me something, do any of the other children call you a bastard? Or even some of the adults?" Marcail nodded, fists clenched. "I'm a bastard too, only I knew who my father was from the beginning and I knew he didn't want me with him. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to punch him for that. So yeah, I know exactly how you felt. The important thing to remember is that you decide what type of person you will be, not anybody else. As you grow up, you will know what you can do best, what's important to you, and how you want to act. Don't let a bunch of people who don't know you make you feel less than you are." Even as he said the words, he felt like he could be talking to his younger self at the same time. Maybe it was time to take his own advice. "You don't feel like punching me again, do you?" Marcail smiled at that and shook his head. "I can't tell you how relieved I am at that. You have quite a punch; did your mother teach you that?"

"Yeah, she said I shouldn't start a fight, but I should be able to defend myself," he looked steadily at Alistair, and then he frowned. "Where is your mother?"

"She died when I was born; she was a servant here at Redcliffe Castle." Marcail scooted closer and took his hand. A lump rose in Alistair's throat at the sympathy he received, and thought how much in character Marcail was like Starr. "Marcail, I would like for us to be friends. I understand that you might not want to think of me as your father," and that thought hurt him somewhere deep inside, "but I hope you are at least willing to be friends."

Marcail looked up at him and smiled. The smile was pure Starrelena. "OK. Mom says you're a greyarden, and that means you fight monsters worse than the ones here. Is that right?"

"Yes, I'm a Grey Warden and our job is to fight darkspawn and end the Blight. When I became a Grey Warden, I made a vow, a solemn promise. The walking corpses were bad, but not as bad as the Blight will be if we can't stop it. So I will have to leave, but I promise to come back."

What if you die? I don't want you to die."

"Me neither, I'll do my best not to, and as long as I'm alive I promise to come back." He watched as Marcail accepted that, and then asked "So, what were you and Bevin going to do?"

"We were going to practice cat'pulting. Just in case those monsters come back." Alistair nodded. They walked companionably towards the village. "Alistair, are you . . . are you going to marry my mother?" Marcail kept his eyes down as he asked the question.

"Maker's breath, how do I answer that one?" thought Alistair. In a secret part of his heart, though, the idea was not unattractive. "Marcail, your mother is my best friend, but we haven't seen each other in years. We need to get to know each other again, learn all about what has happened in those years. Marriage is a very special relationship; you have to be ready to share everything, much more than just friends, to like each other in a special way. We've been apart for too many years and need to get to know each other again." Marcail still looked at the ground.

Alistair stopped and kneeled down so he could look at Marcail. "Marcail, your mother is a wonderful woman. I hope that she finds somebody she can be happy with, and that will be good to you," he suppressed a twinge of jealousy at the thought. "I'm not saying it will never be me, but I am not going to make you a promise I might not be able to keep. That's not fair to either of us. I can promise, that no matter what, I am still going to be your father and that will not change; and I never want to do anything to hurt your mother or jeopardize our friendship. Are you okay with that?"

"I guess," said Marcail. "Let's go."

Alistair got up and they continued. He really hoped he had said the right thing to Marcail, if he messed things up Starr was going to box his ears.