Part 72: Seeking Alistair

The little monster was crying again. Alistair dropped his head into his hands and felt deeply guilty for the thought. He tried hard to remember why he'd always wanted a child. He tried to keep in mind that this was what he had asked for.

But Adrian's squalling had him on edge and was getting very hard to deal with. Sheri paced back and forth outside, finally walking further away when the usual soothing technique failed.

Alistair laid his head back and tried to go back to sleep—feeling guilty even about that. But it wasn't his turn to walk with the boy, so he needed to sleep. His turn would be coming up soon, and…he sighed.

Rolling over, sleep claimed him. All too soon, a piercing wail awakened him, and he groaned, picking Adrian up and slipping out of the shelter. Curbles lifted her head and, as usual, tried to follow him. He warned her away as he always did.

There had been much arguing between him and Sheri about it, but Alistair had won. The griffons didn't get to come anywhere near the baby. He'd been taught that cats could smother babies, and these were nothing but big cats. With wings and stuff.

Sheri had argued that they were intelligent enough that they would never hurt a child. Alistair wasn't convinced, and so she had given in. Alistair felt bad about that now, too, though.

Parenting was nothing like he'd dreamed of. No ball games, no laughter, no pointing out star formations. No… just crying, wet linens, and more crying. Late nights and—

"Alistiar!" Sheri admonished him. "Bring him back, it's feeding time."

Oh. Well, that was somewhat comforting. She'd take him back and feed him and Alistair could go back to sleep.

"Ah! You didn't even cover him, he's cold!"

Alistair groaned as he laid back and looked at the stone ceiling. He really, really had to get them out of there. He needed help. Sheri needed a nurse for the baby or something—someone beside him to get up in the middle of the night.

For the next week, he worked all day on the raft. Flemeth had left rope and canvas—they had their sail. There was enough rope to lash together a large raft, and she had even left an axe. It was as if she had anticipated him in some way, and it set Alistair's nerves on edge as Flemeth always did.

He came back to camp to find Sheri lying on Curbles, who was purring loudly. Adrian was on Sheri's chest, and both were asleep. At first, Alistair felt fury that she had betrayed him and let the griffon near the baby.

But then it dawned on him. The baby was asleep! Not just asleep, but he was sleeping peacefully. He was sleeping so peacefully that Alistair realized he hadn't heard him in several hours.

He ate quickly and went into the shelter. Within moments, he was asleep. Some time later, he heard soft sounds from outside, but it wasn't wailing, so he went back to sleep. The next day, he agreed to allow Adrian around the griffons, provided Sheri was with them and Adrian was protected from smothering.

The next few weeks were surprisingly easier. And Alistair found that Curbles also seemed to be brightening again. Her grief over the lost Buddy had been tangible, and difficult to bear. But as the days lengthened into full summer, and Adrian began to crawl, the griffon seemed to find a new sense of purpose.

She often squawked when he began to crawl what she considered to be the wrong way. She was as close as they could possibly get to a babysitter under the circumstances.

Part 73: Seeking Alistair

Sheri was able to begin helping him some on the raft, and he found his eyes drawn to her again and again. Her body had changed, but it didn't matter. She was beautiful, and he couldn't stop watching her.

He stopped suddenly and watched her. Now that there were fewer issues with the baby, he found his mind returning to her again and again. He wanted to marry her. He was scared, too.

He was scared because she was so beautiful still. Life on the island had been good to her, she looked somehow freer and more at ease, with a self-confidence that had been missing before.

He swallowed hard. He was taking her back to the mainland, and other men would see how beautiful she was. They would recognize that inner beauty that had kept her alive despite the difficult pregnancy and birth. They'd hear the story of how she had helped them both survive, and see what an amazing woman she was.

He looked at the raft they were making. What was he thinking? What was he doing? Was he crazy? They were happy here. They could have a life here. They'd been fine until now. Well, mostly.

"Everything okay?" her soft voice interrupted him and he looked up at her.

"I guess so. But I'm really afraid of going out on the water. Of taking Adrian on this kind of a trip. What if we wreck? What if Flemeth was wrong and it won't cross the stones and Adrian…" He trailed off.

She knelt beside him. "Alistair, we have to try. This is no life for a little boy. This is no life for us, either. We've done okay, but can you honestly say you're happy here?"

He looked at her as she knelt beside him, looking into his eyes with her startlingly beautiful ones. Their brilliant blue put the sky and even the sea around them to shame. Her bright hair lifted in the breeze, blowing around her face in a way that was endearing to him beyond anything he could have imagined.

He tore his eyes from her and looked around. It was a rugged place, but beautiful. The distant roar of the water rose to his ears. The griffons were calling to each other, and Adrian was shrieking with laughter at the gamboling of the kits.

He looked back at her and said, "I'm not unhappy, Sheri."

She touched his cheek. "It's not enough for either of us to be content, Alistair. And one day…One day we must take the Walk, Alistair. When we do, Adrian will be entirely alone and not know how to fit into society. It's not right to do that to him."

Alistair felt blood rush to his face in shame. He hadn't thought of that. He hadn't thought past his fear of losing her.

Her hand touched his cheek, so gentle, so loving. His eyes met hers again, and blue held gold for long moments.

She smiled softly at him. "I would like to stay, Alistair. I won't lie. I've become used to it. But while I was in labor, Flemeth told me that Ferelden needs us. It needs its Wardens and it needs… It needs you and it needs your son."

A cold feeling unfurled in his stomach and the day suddenly seemed harsh and over-bright. "What do you mean?"

"Anora is dead, Alistair. They think it was Nathaniel Howe, but Flemeth discards the notion. There will be civil war soon, if not already. It's turmoil there, Alistair."

Part 74: Seeking Alistair

They'd finished it three days before. The raft lay beached on the sand, forlornly alone as they tried to convince themselves to get on it. They had finally run out of excuses, though, and stood in front of it.

Alistair pulled Sheri against him. "I don't want to go," he whispered to her. "I want to stay here forever. Are you sure we can't?"

Her eyes met his, and he saw his own reluctance reflected in their shimmering blue depths. She said nothing, simply lying her hand on his cheek and giving him a weak, tearful smile and a nod.

Alistair sighed. "Why does Flemeth even care? Why didn't she just leave us be?"

Sheri chuckled slightly. Straightening up, stick rigid, she tucked her chin in slightly and lifted her shoulders. Then, in a fair imitation of Flemeth, she said, "With civil war comes fear, Girl. And with fear comes the hunting parties. They'd rather focus on a little old lady in the woods than kill each other—it's easier in its own way."

Alistair chuckled. "She's hardly 'a little old lady in the woods'."

"But her point still stands. I'd rather focus on her than get on that raft, myself."

He couldn't argue with her. And he had no objections left. Turning to her, he kissed her. But as he pulled back, he saw the anguish she couldn't control.

"What is it?"

"When we get back, they'll take him away from me. Because I'm a Warden. Because I'm a mage. Because he's the heir. I know it has to be this way, but—"

"No. They won't. I won't allow it. You've given Ferelden everything already. You've lost your lover, you've fought an Archdemon and barely survived… they've taken more from you than anyone has any right to ask of anyone, ever."

He tilted her chin up towards him as she began to object. "No. If they want Alistair Theirin for their King, and Adrian Theirin for their heir, they will have Sheri Theirin for their Queen."

He saw a cloud of anger cross her face, darkening it with the promise of impending storms. "You would destroy a nation in favor of your own personal life?" she demanded.

He shook his head. "No. They would destroy themselves with stubbornness and prejudice. They cannot blame that on me. Nor can they blame that on you, since there would be no Ferelden at all without you."

The clouds passed, slowly, as she pondered his words. "Well, I guess you can try," she said finally.

Alistair shook his head. "No. There will be no trying. They will take us all, or none of us. That is the end of it."

Together, the tiny family climbed on the raft. Alistair pushed it out onto the water, and unfurled the sail. The kits were piled on with them already, and at his whistle, the bulk of the adults flew onto it, while the rest flew over it.

The journey was perilous and long. The griffons alternated frequently, so that none grew too weary to fly. The wind was in their favor, though, and days later they landed on the shores of Ferelden.

Perhaps at the hand of the Maker, perhaps it was merely fate… but they had landed near Ostagar. Alistair decided that this would be the place that would be turned into the first griffon aerie in Ferelden in hundreds of years.

They went to Redcliffe first, leaving the griffons there. While there, they contacted Bann Teagan, who had taken over at Redcliffe Castle. Immediate word ran through Ferelden like wildfire. The Prince had returned.

Part 75: Seeking Alistair

To his surprise, Alistair learned that Jackness still lived, and went to visit him. There was such great joy in the reunion that Sheri left them to talk for a day, and a night. When the next day came, Jackness traveled with them back to Ostagar, along with his grandson.

His grandson became the first Griffonskeep of Ferelden, having been raised at the knee of his grandfather. He had learned from that venerable old man all there was that remained of the teachings about griffons.

The truth was quickly revealed about who had assassinated Anora. Arl Eamon had hoped to seize the throne, as he had the strongest claim to it. But his vociferous attempts to have Nate Howe indicted for it without proof had won him many enemies.

When that was all settled, and Alistair announced that he would only take the throne with the Hero of Ferelden at his side—who also happened to be a mage—there wasn't even a whimper of protest.

People wanted to get on with life, to rebuild, to be at least content for a time. They were weary of war, weary of politics, weary of instability. They took the offer of a legitimate King and ran back to their homes to bury the dead, comfort the living, and rebuild what had been broken—relationships and buildings both.

Alistair and Sheri ruled well, until they took the long walk into the Deep Roads. Their son ruled after them. Between the Father and the Son, a new age of prosperity and peace reigned over Ferelden.

And the griffons thrived again, once more partners with the Wardens, who treasured them, fully aware of what life had been like without them.