Chapter 10: The Shadow

The Princes' camp was far more festive than one might have expected, and nowhere near as rustic. As Crown Prince Duncan had a reputation to uphold, and to give his lords and ladies what they expected. When the heir of Ferelden travelled, he should travel in style, with many pleasures to keep him, and his fellow highborn, occupied. As they made their way towards the Forest Vila others came to join their party. They had picked up several more free riders as they made their way south, among them several mummers, singers, and entertainers. Word of the princes' journey had clearly been spread beyond the walls of the capital, and with most royal journeys, there were those that saw opportunity.

Alindra smiled as she made her way through the camp. It might have been mistaken for a travelling circus, if not for all the guards. She watched as a young musician serenaded Felina and Rowan. Both seemed entranced by the brown haired singer. The boy was handsome; make no mistake, and both the girl's seemed flattered by his attention. A few feet away Tessio and Lionel were engaged in some drinking game with one of their bodyguards. Alin did not recognize the man but immediately felt sorry for him.

When it came to Antivans and Wycomers, it was best not to challenge them to a battle of cups, given the celebratory skills of both peoples; any native Fereldan was bound to lose. She thought of warning the man, but eventually decided against it.

Who was she to interfere with another's fun?

Near the royal tent, Duncan sat speaking quietly with Bann Bevin. She could not hear what was being said over the din, but from the relaxed posture of both, it was clear that what was being discussed was far from serious.

Both of them noticed her, she smiled and offered a curtsey. Bevin nodded and raised his cup, while Dunk looked away, she could not tell by the firelight, but she thought he might be blushing slightly.

His reaction made her tummy flutter, though not for the reason that the prince might have hoped for.

Since her return from Wycome, she had become more and more aware of the change in her relationship with the crown prince. What had begun as a childhood friendship had begun to evolve, at least as far as the Prince was concerned. It was not as bad as the two young men at the tourney, but…

Alindra frowned.

The royal court was a competition, she had been a part of it long enough to understand that, the only thing that changed were the prizes that the various people and factions competed for. As she had grown older, Alindra had quickly come to understand that she was seen by some as just one of those prizes.

It was not a state of affairs that pleased her.

Her mother and father had sent her to the court so that she could have the best life possible. They had trusted Alistair and Allegra to see that she had all the best opportunities. Mother would no doubt prefer that she find some handsome young lord settle down in his keep and have his babies. She had no desire to see her daughter live the life that she had led. The Nightingale loved her, Alin did not doubt that, but her life had turned her very harsh and cold.

She would have spared her daughter that fate.

She could not have all that her parents wanted for her without first getting the attention of some young lord. Duncan's attention was flattering, but that did not mean that it was desired. They were friends, she hoped that they always would be, but that was all. What he wanted, what he might desire…that was not…it was not possible.

One day Duncan would ascend to the Ferelden throne. He would need a queen at his side, one that would give him children, and please the royal court. She knew at least half a dozen young maidens who were far more…appropriate candidates. Rowan was a clear choice. Jocelyn could bring great wealth to Ferelden's coffers. Felina was something of a dark horse, but any relationship between her and Duncan could yield better ties between Ferelden and Antiva, that was not something that should be discounted so easily.

Queen Allegra's marriage to King Alistair had served to bring Nevarra and Ferelden closer together; a triple alliance with Antiva would only make their kingdom stronger in the long run.

Compare her three friends to herself, and there was no contest. Alin might have been the daughter of heroes, but she was also an elf blooded human with a grey warden mage father and a bastard turned bard mother, no matter how high her family had risen, it would always come back that. Right now, few if any were looking into her history, if Duncan took her for his woman, no one would be able to stop the questions about her past and in the end, and it would all come out.

That would not be good for anyone, especially not Dunk.

She retreated from the royal tent, losing herself in the sea of people that had joined their noble precession.

She glanced around hoping to hear or see any sign of their northern friends' arrival. It would be good to Robb and Saemus again, and Oriana was always pleasant company, more to the point, she had more in common with the blond from Highever than she had with anyone else here.

Oriana would understand what she was going through; she might even have some advice for her. She knew that most people called her the Dragoness, but that did not mean that she did not speak truth, blunt truth perhaps, but still truth.

Oriana was far more wise than most people gave her credit for.

So deep in thought she had not realized just how far she had come, she had left young lords and ladies behind, and found herself among the soldiers and free riders that formed the protective ring of steel around them. A few of the soldiers looked up as she passed, she did not blame them. Her pales skin, hair, and large blue eyes often drew attention, and had since she had been a small child.

Several of the guards that new her kept the newcomers away, the officers reminding them all of their duty, a duty they needed to perform should they wish to be more than simple guards and Free Riders. Serving the crown well on this journey might lead to greater rewards later on.

Only a complete and utter fool would not realize that.

The soldiers were polite for the most part; everyone seemed to be getting along, the only conflict she observed was an argument between one of the palace guards and one of their baggage handlers. The guard was berating the man for leave some of the wine casks behind. The handler took the tongue lashing without even an attempt to defend himself.

The confrontation was more…confusing than anything else.

The wine cart that they travelled with was still fairly well loaded. Their party was in no danger of running out.

What was one more cask of wine? Certainly not worth a royal guard's time.

The man stormed away, saying that he needed to send a bird ahead of them, let their people at the Grand Forest Villa know that there was a change in plans. The man was so intent on this he did not even notice Alin as he passed. She jumped out of the way as the guard left still cursing under his breath.

Something ticked at the back of Alindra's mind, a thought that died before it was truly born.

She was about to turn around and head back to the others when she noticed a familiar figure apart from the rest of their group; a shadow among many other shadows, a shadow clad in fine black silk.

She made her way towards it, towards him.

It had been a long time since she had been able to speak to Anthony.

She did not intend for it to be any longer.

IOI

She was not sure if he had heard her approach. Alin had no desire to frighten her old friend.

The thought almost made her smile.

Frighten? Unlikely, she thought to herself. Anthony Theirin was not easily frightened, and he had more than enough skills to defend himself, or rather…he had…

Any pleasure she might have felt faded away.

Before the…incident with the Venatori, Anthony had been seen as a child of destiny, a young man with a future. Duncan would be King Duncan one day, few doubted that. For fifteen years he had been preparing for just that. When the time came, the crown would fit him better than his clothes. Everything that King Alistair and Queen Allegra had done to prepare him for his future would pay off.

Duncan would be a good king.

Anthony's future had been something different, but no less grand. After his performance at the junior's tourney years ago, none had doubted his skill with a blade. The palace's master of arms confirmed what most people thought. Ser Corlys Kelley was respected throughout Ferelden in matters of arms, if he said the boy was one of the best he had ever seen, people believed him.

Duncan would be king. Anthony would be his Lord Commander, his first and most loyal sword. Master Kelly firmly expected the boy to rise to the rank of General one day, a commander of commanders. One day it would be Anthony that the would-be invaders of Ferelden would fear. He would be the shield that kept their rivals at bay, and the sword that punished them if they dared try and harm the realm.

That is how it should have been, but two years ago, the few surviving Venatori had snatched that destiny away, and in its place they had left a broken young man.

Anthony the Unlucky.

The Broken Prince.

Even while on the round he stood apart from the others, preferring to keep everyone at a distance. Long dark red hair hid most of his features, his black tunic breeches, and leather vest made him appear more shadow than person. While the other young men in their party laughed and caroused at the head of the column, Anthony stayed back, close the baggage train.

He stood facing away from her now, staring up into darkened sky, the light from the camp hid most of the stars, yet the prince seemed completely engrossed.

While Dunk and the others had chosen to leave the capital both armed and armored in leather or light breast plates, Anthony had chosen neither. He wore no armor, and wore no sword; he did not even carry a dagger, at least as far as Alin could see.

He had rebuffed any attempt to speak to him by his fellows, responding only to their defenders in a soft spoken voice, and then only with enough words to show that he had understood what they wanted.

When he moved it was with an almost painful shyness. It was as if he feared harming the merest blade of grass.

The sight shocked her, almost as much as his appearance in the throne room when this trip was first discussed.

Alindra had grown up with Anthony Theirin, but now, she almost did not recognize him.

"Hello, Alin."

She nearly jumped.

She had not been aware that he had been aware of her.

She stifled a nervous giggle.

What a great fool she was.

"Hello, Anthony," she said curtseying. When he did not respond she realized that she would likely have to take the next step.

She had come this far, she had no intention of letting it pass. She would not simply slink back to camp with her tail between her legs.

She had wanted to speak with her friend, and that is what she was going to do.

"May I approach?" she asked.

He tilted his head slightly, perhaps considering what that might mean, but finally, he nodded.

Alindra stepped forward, yet as she came close enough to touch the boy, he seemed to take two steps back, just out of range of her grasp.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, finally slightly hurt.

"I know," he said softly.

"Then why do you back away?"

He remained silent, either he had not heard or simply chose not to answer.

She figured the latter.

Some ladies might have considered that an insult and retreated back to their fellows. Alindra did not give up so easily. She stayed right where she was, waiting…

If her lady mother had taught her anything, it was patience.

She could wait just as long as Anthony could.

She could endure silence as well as anyone.

They stood together, or as together as anyone could be with Anthony. The wall he put up between himself and others was as strong as any Ferelden holdfast.

She would see that wall breached if she could. She hoped that her simply being here would be enough; perhaps she was wrong, perhaps…

"I'm glad you came back," he said, "I heard you were fostered in Wycome for a time."

She laughed at that.

"I would not call it "fostered" exactly, but it wasn't all bad. Jocelyn was good company, and Lionel wouldn't let anything happen to me. That was good, at least."

"Hm," the prince said, whether he was agreeing with her or disagreeing she could not say.

She could have let the conversation end at that, but she didn't. Anthony had opened the door; she did not intend to let it close between them.

"I've tried to speak with you since I've been back. No one would let me see you."

The Broken Prince sighed.

"It is better this way," he said.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"For whom?"

Anthony blinked, he looked away from her, for the briefest of seconds, she though that he was going to burst into tears, but after another shuddering breath, he looked up again, his face cool and empty.

"For everyone." He said.

The look in his eyes almost made her take a step back. She…she…

She shook her head.

Oh Maker.

Anthony's expression might have been neutral, but his eyes were anything, but. They burned with a quite fire, and inferno starved for air in a stone room, a flame that would leap out and consume if one was not careful.

The look surprised her.

Even unarmed, Anthony had seemed at that moment to be a threat. It had been almost two years since the incident, but something of what had happened clearly remained. Something dark, something untamed, remained behind the prince's eyes.

What happens when that gets out? She wondered.

There were those that court that pitied Anthony. Had they seen that look in his eyes, they would not have felt pity; they would have felt something else.

Fear.

He took another shuddering breath and returned his attention to the horizon. She had feared that he had gone away, that he would not respond if she spoke to him again.

He once again surprised her.

"It is better for everyone if I keep may distance," he murmured, "I'm not afraid of being hurt Alin."

When he looked up again, his expression looked pained, lost.

"I'm afraid of hurting someone else."

The admission took her by surprise. As far as she knew Anthony had not looked at a weapon since the Venatori.

How he could still see himself as dangerous?

He looked away again, but she thought that he had not wanted too; perhaps he desired to be a part of his family and friends again. Perhaps he had simply forgotten how.

She wanted to show him that it was not too late. There was always a way back.

"Robb and Saemus are on their way," she told him, "Oriana's coming too."

She smiled.

"You want to come and see how she deals with Tessio and Lionel?"

The Prince pursed his lips.

"Has no one warned them about Oriana?"

"Nope."

There was the briefest twitch of the prince's lips, not a smile, but it might have become one if he let it.

"Too bad," he admitted, "It is never pleasant when the Dragoness breathes fire."

Alin giggled.

Again Anthony's mouth twitched, not a smile, but close.

He sighed and shook his head.

"You will have to come back and let me know how it went."

She gave him an arched look.

"You do not wish to come?"

The prince nodded.

"Better this way," he said flatly.

Again Alindra was not quite sure how to respond.

The wall was still there, but at least she knew that her old friend was willing to peek over the walls once and a while.

It was hopeful after such a long time cut off from him.

She turned and made her way back toward the camp.

"If you change your mind," she reminded him, "You know where we will be?"

Anthony nodded curtly, more interested in the horizon than meeting with their old friends.

She started to leave. It was not a defeat, she thought, merely a setback. She was not willing to give up.

Anthony was her friend.

She would not leave him trapped in darkness.

"Alin," he called out.

She paused.

"Yes?"

When she looked back she saw that he was looking back at her. His eyes radiating all the hurt and loneliness of the last two years, the fire that she had seen was still there, but it had lessened to embers.

His mouth twitched again.

"I'm…glad you decided to come." He said.

Despite herself, Alin blushed slightly, her pale cheeks turning a soft pink in the low light. She doubted that he could see it, which was probably for the best.

"Thank you Andy," she said.

He nodded curtly.

"You're welcome," said as he turned back to the night sky.

She stood there watching him, just a single black figure in the night, one shadow among many.

Yet from the light of the camp behind them, the shadow that the Broken Prince cast was longer and darker than any other.

In that moment, the broken prince stood taller than any king.

A shadow as great as the destiny that had been stolen from him…

…Stolen, but not forgotten.