Chapter 17) Future's Blessings

Layla POV

Marching to Orlais. He never thought he'd see the day. He can hear Maric laughing and laughing at the irony. He can also hear Maric crying, screaming, and generally just hating him. He made such a mess of things, really. He tried, but he was wrong and, worst, he didn't admit he was wrong. It reminded him of what that witch had said. Betray and betray… he'd certainly lived up to that prophecy. But Maric had been his best friend anyway. The world was a lot dimmer without him. Without Rowan.

But it's not without light entirely. Anora still lives, and that Alistair fellow has just enough of Maric in him that he can't help but think he'll do okay. Particularly when Nuada and Elspeth are helping him. The future isn't as bright as it used to be, but there's still light. There's still hope. He can live with that.

"Aw… who is the cutest widdle thing~?" Anders cooed over Ser-Pounce-A-Lot, a kitten one of the servants had found half-drowned in the courtyard. I had promptly snatched him up and dropped him in Anders's lap. The result was, adorably, Anders making baby noises and squeals and Ser-Pounce-A-Lot purring up a storm. Though, I did half-wish they would move to his room instead of lounging in my study. They were quite distracting. "Layla! He's got the squishiest paws!"

"I am glad you are enjoying your gift," I replied dryly, frowning over scouting reports. There was a distinct lack of… anything, and that worried me. Threats did not just simply disappear. They prepped for something big. "You were attached to Mister Wiggums."

"Took down three templars! Though, I hope Ser-Pounce-A-Lot has a much quieter life."

"Thankfully, the Veil is not very thin here. I doubt a rage demon will confuse him for a person." It had still been one of the oddest days, seeing one of the mousers suddenly turn into a rage abomination. I was half-certain someone tried a summoning circle and botched it. "He should have a nice life here at the Vigil."

"He should!" Anders laughed and flopped down on the floor, letting Ser-Pounce-A-Lot crawl all over him. "By the way, is he a bribe to not go running off? It'll be harder to travel with a cat."

"Wardens go where they are needed, so no, it is not a bribe." I thumbed through the report talking of how the repairs to the walls were going well, the armor for the militia was going even better, and that gate-wall thing Cleon, Nathanial, and Velanna had found was almost completely fixed and ready for use. "No one knew what to do with the poor thing, and I remembered you like cats."

"Did I tell you I like cats or is that just one of those 'this is stupidly obvious' things?"

"Half of your stories whenever you returned involved how adorable the stray cats were and you would forget to give us your presents to tell us about them."

"And then Neria and Jowan would prod and tickle me until I remembered." Anders laughed warmly. "I still need to see you."

"You also need to write her. I told her you were here, and I believe I have gotten twelve letters from her."

"Ouch, okay, I'll write." Anders kissed Ser-Pounce-A-Lot's head and got a lick on his nose in thanks. "I wonder if she still has those trinkets and portraits."

"She has the ones that managed to survive Uldred's assault. I have all of mine, since she packed them before me." By some miracle of the Maker, I had not lost a single one. "A few of her portraits were destroyed, so she stole Jowan's. They were still there, and it is not like he will need them."

"True." Anders fell quiet for a while, and I focused on reading through more of the reports, focusing on the notes from the merchants. With things calm in the Wending Woods again, trade was flowing. Based on what I knew from Velanna, I planned on letting the merchants through until we had ample supplies before confronting them on how they set fire to the forests near the Dalish camps to drive them out. I was not going to let things like that stand. "Say, Layla?"

"Yes?"

"Jowan was a blood mage."

"He was."

"He was a blood mage, gave it up, fell in love, planned to leave, and then… well, everything went wrong." Anders sat up and let Ser-Pounce-A-Lot crawl onto his shoulders, still purring. He really liked being all warm and dry. "Why? Did he ever say?"

"Neria is going through his things, the ones that survived the templar investigation and Uldred's attack, but if she has found anything, she has not told me." I frowned over the numbers for our grain stores. They seemed low, even accounting for everything. I would talk to Varel later about it. "I did not have a chance to ask him. He ran when he revealed it, and when I saw him again, when I saw him for the last time, I…" I had to pause against the rush of tears. "There was too much going on." I still remembered it, though. I still remembered killing him to save Connor, at his insistence. He had wanted to make up for his mistakes, and to make up for traumatizing Connor so. "There was far too much going on."

"I understand. It just…" He paused, scratching Ser-Pounce-A-Lot under the chin. I glanced out the window and guessed by the amount of sunlight that it was almost lunch. "Jowan never seemed one for power, you know? He was better suited to teaching and never seemed to mind it."

"I thought so as well." It was telling that, despite everything that happened, Connor apparently had a brilliant grasp of the basics. He was Irving's apprentice now because of it, learning how to turn those basics into actual spellcasting and attempting to heal from his trauma. I had asked to visit, but Irving had refused. Connor wasn't up for any sort of visitors. "He seemed to love it when the smaller apprentices came to him for help or comfort."

"That's what I always saw. Andraste's knickers, he helped me get comfortable with my magic."

"He was the one who helped introduce me to the others, when it was my first day." It was painful, remembering. "I had thought he was happy. I never would have thought…" I had not known him nearly as well as I had thought. Now, I would never truly get the chance to fix that. "I suppose it could have been power, though. I am almost certain he was a warrior mage. You remember how much trouble he had with the elemental and primal spells."

"A… what?" Anders looked at me in confusion, but that just reminded me of something I had not done yet. I needed to write the Circles… "I've never heard…" He yelped when I suddenly jumped to my feet and rummaged through some papers and pens, hunting for blank. "Layla?"

"What are all the Circles again?" I jotted down the ones I knew. There were fourteen or fifteen throughout Thedas, if I remembered correctly. Kinloch Hold. Kirkwall Gallows. Ostwick Circle. Hossberg. White Spire. Cumberland. Perendale. Dairsmuid. "Urgh…"

"I can help you remember, but why?" Anders brought up Ser-Pounce-A-Lot who meowed in confusion. "And a what?"

"It… oh, I have not told you yet." I sat down again, trying to think of how to explain. 'I accidentally obtained the memories of a centuries-dead elven warrior' was the truth, but that required more explanation than I wanted to give. I had adapted well enough, but it was more than a little odd. "During the Blight, we ended up discovering a few bits of elven lore." That was true enough. "One of the things we discovered was something that best translates as 'warrior mages'."

"And those are?" Anders held up Ser-Pounce-A-Lot in front of his face and waved his little paw at me. "What are they, Enchanter Amell?" He pitched his voice high to be like a child's and I collapsed on my desk in giggles. "Those weren't in our notes!"

"It would have been Enchanter Layla, Anders. I am unusual in that I knew, and kept, my last name." Many did not, since they had been thrown out by their parents. Jowan's mother had called him a 'demon child'. I might not have kept my own, except I had vague, but good, memories of my mother and the other 'Amells' I met. My 'father' had not been an Amell. "Oh, whatever. Put the poor cat down, Anders."

"Fine, fine." He set Ser-Pounce-A-Lot in his lap, where the adorable cat curled up, purring again. "So?"

"You know how there are Somniari?"

"The Dreamers, right? Mages capable of entering the Fade at will, without the need for lyrium or blood magic." Anders hummed a bit in thought, a song I recognized but only because he often hummed or sang it while working. He never taught it to me, or even told me the name. "The presence of demons is painful to them, however, because of that sensitivity to the Fade. They're very attractive to demons as well, and often don't survive long because of that. Their minds are too fragile to endure a possession. As such, outside of the Imperium, there hasn't been on in… two ages, I believe?"

"Yes, they are a specific type of mage. You and I are the more typical mages, with the power to command the elements at will and able to endure and resist a demon's call if the need came." Truthfully, Anders and I were supposedly particularly adept at resisting that corruptive influence. That was why we had both been allowed to pursue the path of a Spirit Healer. "But, Anders, there are others!"

"Well, there are the Seers in Rivain, though something tells me that you're referring to something different."

"The Seers allow themselves to be possessed and the like, and that might be what I am referring to, but I do not know. But…!" I jumped to my feet, excited now. "But no, there are others! Their magic flows differently through them, like with the Dreamers!"

"And how, exactly?"

"You remember how Jowan struggled with the basic elemental magic?" I bounced on my toes, barely waiting for him to nod before I continued. "I bet if he actually pursued creation spells or entropy or arcane, he would have been far better than us! That would have been how his magic flowed through him!" But he never did. Entropy unnerved him, Anders and I focused on creation spells because of healing, and Neria was a master of the Arcane branch. "But they are instinctual masters of those branches or… well…" I frowned, grimacing. "I suppose that would depend on where a spell is classified…"

"You would think that there would think there would be some sort of universal classification system for magic, but no, that's too simple!" Anders scowled. "Feels like every Circle has its own way to define magic. But I think I catch your meaning. The fire and ice are difficult, but they'd probably could heal more with a simple 'heal' spell than some Spirit Healers can?"

"Yes! They can also instinctually call on spiritual weapons, without a hilt like the Knight Enchanters, and they can easily break people's minds with entropy and…" I paused and took a deep breath to calm myself down. "The point is, though, is that they would have to be taught differently. The system as it stands now…"

"You'd have more luck teaching a stone how to fly. And then they might turn to blood magic to get the power needed to just be 'normal'." Anders stood up then, with Ser-Pounce-A-Lot complaining until Anders helped him up onto his shoulder. "Here, I'll help you with that list."

"Thank you." I smiled brightly at him. "Thank you very much!"

"Layla, have you thought about children?" The question made me pause and slowly drag myself out of my letter writing. At Cleon's suggestion, I was writing to Keeper Elindra of the Ralaferin Clan, because he thought they might be amenable to sharing knowledge with me due to the actions of their former Keeper, Gisharel, especially in exchange for my knowledge of the Arcane Warriors. I did not really want to 'trade' for it, but Cleon suggested it. With the settlement in the Hinterlands, more knowledge might help reduce attacks like what those merchants had done… "Layla?"

"I am sorry," I blurted, sitting back in my chair. It took a few more blinks to remind myself that I was in my study again, this time after a very nice lunch, writing letters to people with Anora. "I was caught up."

"I can tell," Anora laughed from her own little table by the window. Her smile was kind, though. "I asked if you have thought about children."

"Ah… hmm…" I frowned as I thought, absently spinning my pen about my fingers. The late afternoon sunlight made the room almost sparkle, especially on the wet ink of our various replies. "No, I have not. In the Circle, if a mage ended up pregnant and carried the child to term, they were taken from their mothers." Anders and I had helped deliver a couple of them, due to our healing magic. Most of the mothers had a heartbreaking resigned look on their faces when I had to take their children out of their arms. I remembered how a few had even cried. I had not, perhaps because of my youth, but I knew Anders had. He had screamed about it even, about how the Circle took away everything. "Unless you are very influential, or have very influential friends, the mother never learns. Sometimes, most of the time actually, they do not even learn their child's name."

"That's…" Anora fell silent, with her expression locking up. It took her a while to reply. "That sounds inhumane."

"The Chantry goes through great lengths to ensure there are few in a Circle who share blood ties. Though, bribes can also go a long way for that." It was a combination of both that led to me being sent to Kinloch Hold. "Templars are discouraged to have families as well."

"It still…" Anora fell silent again, but this time, I saw the pain in her eyes. I remembered how I had been told Anora and Cailan had difficulties having a child over five years of marriage. I wondered if she had wanted a child beyond the need for an heir. "So, you have never thought about it?"

"Ah, yes, I have not." I accepted the redirect and decided to go one better. "I have, however, noticed that my periods have been extremely spaced out. I think I have only bled once since my Harrowing, before Ostagar."

"Really?" Anora tapped her pen on her table, thinking. "You know; now that I think about it, Cailan once mentioned to me that Wardens have reduced fertility. I had thought it an odd fact to know and didn't pay much attention to it." I thought about how, in Ostagar, Cailan had apparently been looking into whether or not he was sterile and the one causing 'issues' with having an heir. I wondered if he had learned because of that research. "There were a lot of things I should have paid more attention to."

"You miss him."

"Terribly." She sighed and smiled sadly. "He wasn't the best husband, or the best king, but he was kind and he tried his hardest. He could've become good at both, if there had been a little more time. If he and I actually talked to each other more." She looked down and held her pen tightly enough to shake. "He was a good man. He deserved a better death. He deserved a longer life. And now, people are just going to remember him as a glory-hound, instead of someone..."

"Based on Nuada, I can guess that he played the fool to make people smile and give them courage." I remembered how blunt Cleon had been, and how genuinely horrified he had been at the way the elves were treated. I remembered how Cleon had called him 'shem king' and he had taken no offense. "He was very kind, at the camp. He did his best to show us around so that we would not get lost."

"Never the sharpest tool in the shed, but no one could fault how kind he was." She laughed bitterly. "Each time my period came, I would be so frustrated and upset that I cried. It was another month of dealing with everyone's pointed questions, another month of pretending I didn't see their sneers or hear their laughs. It was tiring and it was painful." She closed her eyes, smiling slightly. I thought she was holding back tears. "But each time, Cailan would say something silly or do something ridiculous to cheer me up again. Even with his affairs, he always made sure I had something to make me smile, be it a silly story, or my favorite treat." She sighed and opened her eyes again to look at her letters. "I hope they don't blame Elspeth as they did me. She is younger, thankfully, so she should have more time, but..."

"Ah…" But I could hear the hidden words. If Wardens did have a reduced fertility, then we might have only delayed the succession crisis here in Fereldan, not solved it. "Um… Oh, who is Ser Aaron?" I picked up the letter from him and skimmed through it. "He sent me something."

"Hmm? Oh, Ser Aaron Hawthorne. He was a child soldier during the Rebellion, one of sadly many, and was one of the youngest knights in Fereldan. Knighted at fifteen after he helped prevent another escalation of the war." Anora's smile became kind and warm again. "Maric offered to give him lands, especially since his family had died during the Occupation, but he opted instead to be a wandering knight. He's served valiantly ever since, essentially being an unofficial ambassador for Fereldan." She laughed, and it sounded mostly happy. "He's a kind man, and a damn brilliant storyteller, if you can forgive the curse."

"I can tell." I relaxed in my chair as I read through his words. It was filled with encouragement, stories that made me smile, and the like. What touched me the most, though, was how he 'knew' I was doing all I could with everything being against me as it was. 'Knew'. He had never met me, but he believed I was doing my best. That meant a lot. I needed to make sure Alistair knew of him. "I will have to think of a good reply." For now, though, I set it to the side again and returned to writing to Keeper Elindra.

There was a lot of work to make the future brighter than the present, but I believed we could do it, one step at a time. These letters would be among those steps. I was certain of it.

Author's notes: Little bit of a break for the group! Ser-Pounce-A-Lot is Anders's plot gift. Ser Aaron is one of the characters in Knight Errant. Clan Ralaferin… well, technically, Ralaferin has been established since Origins, through the codexes. Keeper Gisharel is the in-universe author of many Dalish related codexes in Origins, DA2, and Inquisition. Two members of the clan, Neria (who funnily enough, shares her name with a default!female!Surana in this game) and Cillian, are multiplayer options for Inquisition. Neria's background reveals that Clan Ralaferin faces some scorn for choosing to share their knowledge with humans, though they believe it is by sharing this knowledge that humans will learn how to live alongside them. Cillian is actually an Arcane Warrior. So, it makes sense that Layla would reach out to them in particular. Anders and Layla lamenting the lack of a universal classification system for magic is due to how what 'kind' of magic a certain spell is can vary wildly depending on which of the games you're playing.

Next Chapter - Interlude, Nathaniel