Chapter 10. Closures

With the Dread Wolf's attention completely focused on Thedas, Falon'Din was able to navigate the Beyond to the new Arlathan. Revas, they called it. Freedom. It was in such a remote place Fen'Harel would never find it. Falon'Din watched in amazement as the embodied Dreamers simply walked out of the Beyond and into the physical world.

After the Dreamers went to Revas, Falon'Din noticed there was a small opening in what he thought was the veil. Reaching for it with his mind he saw that veil was intact. The opening was in a layer that was between the portion of the Beyond in which the Creators were trapped and the Beyond the mortals called the Fade. It was then Falon'Din realized that this opening represented the seal that kept the Creators trapped. The Dread Wolf, it seemed was as clever as they had always suspected. Falon'Din reached out to the Dreamers that were still with him, then he focused on the small opening. He was able to open the seal enough to let the disembodied dreamers go beyond the seal and into the Fade. There they would be able to interact on some level with the Keepers.

Falon'Din was cautiously optimistic. There was proof that the seal could be opened. Now they needed a way to break it completely and destroy Fen'Harel. Falon'Din, started to believe they were seeing the beginning of the end of The Dread Wolf's dominion over the Beyond.

~oOOo~

Maric opened the door and welcomed Alistair inside.

"Would you like something to drink? I have some Antivan brandy that's particularly good, or wine, mead?"

"Antivan brandy, please. Thank you, Maric."

Maric poured drinks for both of them and they sat down, silently sipping their brandy. Maric wanted to let Alistair begin the conversation.

Alistair swirled his brandy in his glass. Maric wanted to talk, so let him start.

They both sat in a stubborn and tense silence, each refusing to be the first to speak.

Alistair was already angry; the frustration of waiting for Maric to talk was just too much. His voice was stiff and formal. "I apologize for my attitude this morning. I spoke with Keeper Merenwen, who informed me as to why you did not come back to Ferelden."

Maric knew they wouldn't get anywhere if Alistair opted for a stick-like formality. So he pushed. "You mean when you accused me of buggering off? "

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "I said I was sorry."

Maric mimicked Alistair's formal tone, "No, you said 'I apologize for my attitude.' Not really the same feeling as 'I'm sorry'"

"You've decided to be difficult?"

"No, I want this to be a talk between two people, not a polite discourse like we have sticks shoved up our arses."

Alistair rose to the challenge. "You want emotion? You want to hear my rage?"

"Yes! That's part of why we're talking isn't it?" Maric said snidely, continuing to goad Alistair into letting it out.

Alistair ran his hand through his hair and sipped more brandy. His voice was low, almost a growl. "All right then. Let's talk! The servant who bore me also had a daughter. I met my half-sister; her name is Goldanna and she is a money-grubbing harridan. If she is anything like my mother, then I have to ask you, were you drunk or just stupid?"

Maric leaned back, anger coursing through his blood. I distinctly told Eamon not to identify the servant and not to use one who had children! He was trying very hard to not let his anger at Eamon to color his tone. Speaking in a calm, measured voice,"Alistair, your mother wasn't a servant."

"Ale wench then, whoever you shagged when she opened her legs. Because of that, I spent my entire life being told that I was an unwanted bastard, not worth the time of day! I learned that lesson so well that during the Blight I thought nothing of deferring the leadership of our group to a brand new warden!"

Then Alistair's emotional dam burst and all the hurt and fury he felt flowed out like a torrent. "Why? Why was I punished because you couldn't keep your cock in your britches? Do you know that once Eamon married his Orlesian harpy, I was forced to live in the stables? You know: hay and horse shit! Isolde made sure I knew my place. I was mere boot-scrapings to her, and Eamon allowed it all! Didn't you know anyone that wasn't an arrogant, self-absorbed ass? Why didn't you just give me to some decent farming family in the Bannorn?

"Then I turned ten and discovered that there were worse places than the stables. Being in the Chantry was like being in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from! I will admit, the discipline and training were helpful, but everyone knew I was a bastard, and they never missed an opportunity to remind me of it!"

Alistair quieted down for the moment, his chest heaving from having unleashed his anger and pain.

Maric listened to Alistair's words and felt the heartbreak and loneliness behind them, emotions that he had allowed his own son to experience. "I never realized that Eamon ignored his duty in raising you. I'd thought that by leaving you with Eamon, I would be near you and that Eamon would provide guidance; mentor you, as he would have any son. That he could give you guidance in case the unthinkable happened and you had to take the throne."

Alistair sneered. "Then you failed in making Eamon understand your grand plan, because I was perceived as a threat to the crown and I was treated worse than garbage, but when the unthinkable did occur, Eamon became demanding, telling me it was my duty to assume the throne! Where was the duty to me when I was sleeping in a hayloft in the middle of winter?"

Maric's eyes and voice showed a deep sorrow. "First, I'm so, so sorry for Eamon and Isolde's' treatment of you. Apparently, much of it was hidden from me, but that's not an excuse. I should have looked deeper, asked more questions, but I didn't. I failed you.

Alistair never thought he would hear his father admit his failure. He felt a sense of vindication, he wasn't aware he needed.

Maric leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs, head held in his hands. After a bit, he sat up and took another sip of the brandy. "I need to tell you why you were there; I need to tell you about your real mother."

Alistair sat back; trying to relax enough so he could focus on what Maric was going to say.

Maric looked wistful as he gathered his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Alistair. "You mother's name is Fiona. She isn't a servant or ale wench. She's a Grey Warden, an elven mage from Orlais."

The shock was clear on Alistair's face and Maric could tell he was about to speak, so he held his hand up. "Let me finish."

Alistair nodded.

"When Cailan was five, the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Orlais, a man named Bregan, was captured by darkspawn. His sister, acting Warden Commander Genevieve, believed he was being held in or near the Ortan Thaig. The entrance to the Deep Roads, nearest to that Thaig, was in Gwaren, and the Wardens had been exiled from Ferelden for 200 years. Genevieve came to me seeking permission for her and her group of wardens to travel to Gwaren. I had been in that area of the Deep Roads during the rebellion, so I volunteered to be their guide. Fiona was one of the Grey Wardens in our group, as was your former Warden Commander."

"Duncan? You knew Duncan? Duncan knew my mother?"

"Yes."

In Alistair's eyes, Maric saw confusion and surprise slowly replace the anger. "Fiona and I became very close during that journey. We both had difficult pasts and we began to share our secrets with each other. Alistair, we cared deeply about one another, you weren't the result of a dalliance. I asked her to stay in Denerim, but her Warden duties required her to be elsewhere.

Almost a year later, she and Duncan came back to Denerim with a baby…you. As a Grey Warden, she couldn't keep you, however much she wanted to. She wanted me to make sure you were raised away from the depredations of court life, and completely ignorant of your elven heritage. She made me promise to do this and to stay out of your life. A promise I made out of my love for your mother, but regretted nearly every day since!"

Maric stopped as his thoughts wandered to Fiona and their time in the Deep Roads. Coming back to the present, he noticed that Alistair had been staring at him.

"Alistair?"

"You wouldn't break the promise because you love her?

"I loved her. I made the promise because I loved her; I kept it because I make it a habit not to break promises. Besides, Duncan said he would keep watch over you. That's how I received most of my information; clearly there were things Duncan didn't know about. It was a promise I should have broken."

Alistair was trying to wrap his mind around it all. "I'm half-elven, and my mother was a mage?" That might explain why I didn't need lyrium to augment my templar abilities. "Is she still alive?"

"I don't know. The day she brought you to me was the last time I ever heard from her. You have your mother's coloring, and her eyes."

Alistair looked at his father. "She was a Grey Warden. I thought female wardens couldn't have children?"

"No, they can. It's just more difficult. Apparently in Weisshaupt, female wardens are forced to give up their children."

"That's awful. So instead of giving me to a family in Weisshaupt she brought me to Ferelden. Why?"

"Because your elven heritage couldn't have remained a secret there. Your mother suffered many abuses because she was an elf, she didn't want you to go through what she had, so she brought you to Ferelden, to me."

"Duncan knew all of this?"

Maric nodded. "He was the one who escorted you and your mother to Denerim."

"He never told me. I always wondered why he made me a Grey Warden. He could have picked the winner of the Templar tourney, but he picked me and had to invoke the Rite of Conscription to do it. The Grand Cleric did not want to give me up."

"Of course not, you were my bastard son and she knew it. As well as having you under her control, there was power for her in that knowledge. However, don't think for a moment that Duncan made you a warden out of pity. He could have just left you there; you would have become a full Templar and gone on. You'd have hated it, but you would have gone on. He conscripted you because he wanted you as a warden."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I knew Duncan far better than you did. He was much younger when we met, kind of green behind the ears for a Warden. He was a really good thief, and a really good friend."

Alistair sat back. "I can't believe Duncan was a thief!"

"Indeed, he was also a bit of a rake when it came to women."

"I'm speechless. That's not the Duncan I knew, at all." Sighing, Alistair said, almost to himself. "If nothing else, it shows what the demands of leadership can do to a person."

"That is something we both know a lot about, don't we?"

With a hint of a smile Alistair said, "Yes, I may know a thing or two about that." He paused to gather his thoughts. "What was my mother like?"

"Like no one else I had ever known. Mind you when we first met, her opinion of me was highly unfavorable. She didn't trust me, and made no effort to hide it. Honestly, she was a lot like you, strong, determined, just. You both endured so much, and yet neither of you let it break your spirit. Also like you, your mother came from less than nothing to being a Grey Warden. She was a good one, one whom Genevieve trusted enough to join her in that expedition. Does that sound familiar, Alistair? As badly as Eamon treated you, you didn't let it defeat you, you rose from that to end a Blight and become an outstanding Warden Commander...and most importantly a wonderful father."

"It took some time, but yes I became a good leader."

"It always takes time to learn how to lead, Alistair."

"Did it take you time?"

Maric laughed. "Oh yes, quite a bit! You know when I really came into my own as a leader?"

"When."

"When I became a father."

"That's what turned the corner for me as well. When Adaia was born I knew her future depended on my being able to lead and grow the Fereldan Wardens, so I did."

"You are a wonderful father, Alistair. You're everything I wasn't. If I could do it all over again, I would have broken that promise and raised you myself. As it is, I want to rip Eamon apart, but he's been dead for several years."

Alistair looked at Maric. My Father.

"So that's the whole story. A past that I desperately wish I could change. Alistair, I don't expect you to welcome me with open arms and pretend that none of this happened. I just ask that you can see your way to not hating me or Fiona."

"You set the bar very low."

"Why would I have set it any higher, especially after this morning?"

"I'll give you that. This morning I wanted nothing more than to punish you, just as I had been punished."

"And now…?"

"And now it appears that I'm missing a father and you are missing a son."

"Convenient, that."

"So what do you say?"

Maric stood and held out an arm, Alistair took it and Maric pulled him into a hug. "I say…I've missed you...son."

"And I you...father."

The tears flowed down both men's cheeks and neither one cared.

~oOOo~

Val heard the wrap on Maric's door. And so it begins.

She hadn't touched her dinner. Instead she lay in bed thinking about Maric. His note was so him, charming and romantic.

He is such a warm-hearted man and had done so much for so many. What have I done? Why does he think I'm worth caring for? Then she remembered when she told him how the rebellion began...

"I was the Champion of Kirkwall; it was my duty to protect the city. Anders tied my hands, I had to side with the Templars."

"Having to kill someone you love is the toughest thing you ever have to do."

"Has that happened to you?

Maric nodded. "Yes, it happened during the Ferelden rebellion, an elven bard named Katriel. It's a story for another night. Just know that you were caught between forces you couldn't control, you did nothing wrong. Despite how much it hurts, it wasn't wrong."...

She got up from her bed and sat in front of the window; it was quickly becoming her favorite spot in the room. It was dusk and, as lamps were lit, lights began to twinkle in the village. She sat idly thinking. Her thoughts wandered in no particular order or path. Lamps are amazing, so much better than candles. I'm so glad that Adaia will be able to paint a tile. I wonder if Zev will actually move out of Fenarel house? The school will be amazing. Maybe I could teach? I don't know what, but it sounds like fun.

Her seemingly random thoughts began to coalesce and she came to the realization that she had begun to put down roots. Something she never really did in Kirkwall. She thought how Adaia had already wrapped herself around her heart. She thought about how much she liked Kali and Alistair, Cullen and Renna.

Then she brought her mind to the topic she had been trying to avoid: Maric. She recalled his last words to her that morning. He was going to prove to her that she wan't a complication. She remembered his kiss; she admitted to herself that it wasn't the kiss of someone who thought she was a waste of time. He knew about Anders. He knew about what she had done, and yet none of that seemed to matter to him. He had done things in his past that he wasn't proud of, but that had been necessary for one reason or another. He understood.

She thought about her relationship with Anders, she loved Anders, but she loved the Anders that she'd first met in Kirkwall all those years ago, not the Anders he became. That's what made her so skittish about her feelings for Maric. She didn't trust her own judgment. Right now, she knew that Maric meant more to her than any man ever had. We've both killed someone we love because they left us no choice. We each permanently gave up a piece of our souls to do it and it has forever changed us.

Whenever Val felt she was vacillating she would mentally get tough and tried to see to the bottom of the issue. All right Hawke; let's assume I haven't misjudged the situation. How do I actually feel about Maric? No ifs, what ifs, maybes. How do I feel, full stop?

When she thought about it that way, the answer was clear.

~oOOo~

Many of the villagers were gathered round the evening fire and Elrohir was sharing a tale about Sylaise. Suddenly an area just outside of the village became opalescent. Elrohir and Merenwen knew what was happening and bade everyone to be calm. They walked over to the opalescence, which slowly faded, revealing fifteen elves; they all had the same ethereal quality that Merenwen and Elrohir possessed, and although many were younger there were one or two who appeared to be older.

They all had tears of joy in their eyes. Merenwen smiled and spoke. "Aneth ara." She gestured to the land. "Elvhenan, halamshiral, Revas."

~oOOo~

AN: Thank you to minnie81, LifeandFire25, xseikax and Shakespira for your reviews. A special thank you to Shakespira, who has taught me so more about writing simply by being my Beta.