Thanks to Surelyforth for Anders' phrasing at the end of this chapter. Although her language was slightly stronger than mine! Also thanks to Amhran Comrac and the twitter ladies jenncgf, ladyamesindy and riathepinkie for helping me work out some of the motivations here- I love you guys!
Neria made her way down to the kitchens. Gerod had thoughtfully shown them how to get there - it was obvious that the Orlesian Wardens were just as familiar with the need for midnight snacks as they were at the Vigil. Truly it just was not possible to eat enough at dinner to get one through eight hours of sleep - so nearly every warden tended to have a "fill up" supper just before they went to bed. At the Vigil it was like a second dinner - most wardens made it into a sit down meal, slightly less formal than dinner, but catered for almost as lavishly.
The Orlesian wardens tended to simply help themselves to food and take it back to their rooms, Neria discovered, as she reached the kitchen to find a line up of wardens being handed packages or baskets to take with them rather than a large table set for many. The chef grinned at her as she collected her own basket - enough for her and Anders - and she grabbed what looked like a meat pasty out of the basket to munch on her way back to her room.
Their room. Anders had left his things in his, but they would be sharing her bunk - well used by now to being squished in a small space together. Delightfully so, in fact.
She must have taken a wrong turn on the way back up to the rooms, however, and she stumbled into what looked like a library. Fascinated, she set her basket down on a nearby table and made her way inside.
The Vigil's library was much, much more limited. She ran her hand along the spines of a row of books, drinking in a smell she hadn't really experienced since she'd left the Tower. She had, once upon a time, loved the Circle Library. She'd spent the happiest hours of her childhood there - with Jowan, mostly, although there had been a few notable occasions with Tobias in darkened corners as well.
In the final years, however, she'd avoided the place. Too many other apprentices. Looking at them, knowing what might be in store for them at their Harrowing, realising how few were left after Uldred's rebellion - had become too much for her. If she needed a book she sent an apprentice to get it for her.
This library was different, but the same, so she felt she could indulge in her happier memories without triggering her more traumatic ones. At least, she thought she could, until she heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing coming from a corner.
Curious, she searched for a time until she found the source of the sound - neatly hidden at a desk between two rows of shelves.
Fiona.
Neria knew she had made no sound on approach and she was grateful. Something told her that the older mage would not thank anyone for interrupting what was obviously private grief. Neria wondered why she was here, rather than in her rooms, for something so personal. Then she wondered if Fiona was even aware that she was crying. The elf had her head bent over a book, and she was doing nothing to stem the flow of tears from her eyes.
Neria turned to leave, but she must have made some noise, giving her position away, because Fiona's voice broke through. "Neria?"
She turned back, somewhat reluctantly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean.."
"Don't worry," Fiona replied. The tears were still flowing, but the elf's voice was remarkably steady. "I should have gone to my room. Stupid of me."
"I..."
"What are you doing here?"
She shrugged. "I went to get us a snack," she said.
Fiona cocked an eyebrow. "Us?"
"Anders and..."
"Oh, you and he are...?"
Neria bristled. "I don't see how that's any of your business..."
Fiona chuckled. "I don't blame you," she said looking away. "Big, blonde shems have their appeal, I have to admit."
There was an uncomfortable silence. Neria felt desperate to leave, but something about the elf's mood kept her stock still. "Was it the book?" she asked finally.
"Hmm?"
"Did the book make you cry?"
The bark of laughter that came from the older mage was shocking. "Actually, yes, it was the book," she said, spinning the tome around. Neria read the title from where she was standing. The Kings of Ferelden.
"Huh," she said. "So driven to tears of boredom were you?" Fiona's chuckle sounded a bit more natural this time. Neria smiled back at her. "Well," Neria said. "If you're feeling better I might get this food back to Anders..." She hesitated as a look of need passed over Fiona's face.
"Sit," she said finally. "If you would. I.. find I need some advice, and the people I would usually turn to are not here. You're a mage - and an elf... and.. well let's just say there are enough similarities between us that I think you may be able to help me."
Neria found herself sitting without thinking. The woman, she finally realised, reminded her of her mother. Although her mother had not been half so composed or a tenth as dangerous. Perhaps she had simply not been around older elven women for too long. In any case, being asked by a warden of Fiona's experience and power for advice was novel enough that she wanted to find out what was bothering her.
Fiona laid her hands on the table between them. Neria noted that they were long fingered and delicate - but calloused. People joked about mages never having to do work. It wasn't the case with mage wardens.
"I made a... well, if I call it a mistake it will sound like I could have done differently..." she frowned and took deep breath. "Something happened to me, nearly thirty years ago. Just after I became a warden - I was sent to Ferelden with Duncan and some other wardens. I ended up.. traveling with King Maric."
"King Maric?" Neria said. Old lessons flitted through her head - back when she'd been interested in those sorts of things - back when she paid attention. "Wait - didn't he go on a mission to the deep roads? Just before the wardens were allowed back into Ferelden?"
Fiona nodded. "Yes. I was with him on that mission. So was Duncan. We.. ah.. we became very close."
Neria raised an eyebrow. After Queen Rowan had died, Maric had been reputed to be something of a womaniser, and the gossip pegged him as preferring elven women. "Close as in...?"
Fiona nodded. "Yes. Close as in that. And as a result, I had a child."
"You had one of Maric's bastards?" Neria blurted. It seemed incredible. This woman was the last person Neria would think could possibly end up in such a situation. She was too composed - too hard.
Maybe she hadn't always been that way.
Fiona was looking at her, and her expression was unreadable. "Maric was a good man," she said. "Much like your Anders, in many respects. He was decent, and kind, and..."
"Big and blonde?" Neria finished.
A grin touched Fiona's lips. "Yes. Big and blonde. And in any case, we were thrown together in extreme circumstances. When we... when the relationship reached that level neither of us thought we would be getting out of the Deep Roads alive. Pregnancy certainly wasn't something we were worrying about." Fiona looked down at her hands. "In any case, I had the child, and I brought him back to Ferelden to give to his father. I.. you know that the wardens don't encourage families, and had the Chantry discovered I had a child they would have tried to take it as well. I didn't want that for my son. I wanted him to grow up without the... burden of being a halfblood. Maric arranged to have him raised where he wouldn't know about his heritage."
"Wait," Neria said. "Does King Alistair know about this? Another heir to the throne would make the nobles breathe a lot easier. From what I understand Queen Miranda isn't likely to..." she trailed off. Fiona was looking at her. With disturbingly hazel eyes that were exactly the same shape as... "Oh. Oh! But I thought Alistair's mother was..."
"Maric kept it quiet who his mother was," she said. "I suppose he always knew there was a possibility Cailan would be his only child. And there was no way he was going to marry again. If Alistair needed to take the throne the fact that his mother was a mage, and a warden, and an elf and an Orlesian..."
"Wow. It's like someone gave Maric a list of things not to look for in a lover," Neria said. Then she saw Fiona's expression. "Sorry - Anders rubs off on you after a while. So... you never told him?"
"I asked Duncan to watch over him for me," she said. "But no, I never told him. Never saw him. And now... Now I'm expected to sit across a table from him tomorrow night and make conversation. I know he's going to ask me about Duncan. I know he's probably even going to ask me about his father - all the wardens know I went on that mission with him. What do I say to him? He has a son now - I have a grandson. I... "
"You should tell him," Neria said. "You should tell him who you are."
"He'll be deposed if it ever gets out," Fiona said. "I don't have the right to tell him."
Neria was suddenly angry. "He won't be any less of a good king just because of who his mother was," she said forcefully. "And why should he tell anyone? The whole of Ferelden thinks his mother was a serving lass. I know some of us would rather he was the son of someone significant."
"Some of you wouldn't include the nobles," Fiona said, and her tone was back to being harsh. "And they're the ones who keep him in power. No," she shook her head and stood up. "Thank you for listening to me, I think I needed to tell... someone. Even if it could never be him."
"Fiona..."
"You should get back to your young man," the older mage said. "He's probably hungry." She started to leave, but Neria caught her arm.
"Don't you think Alistair deserves to know?" she asked softly.
Fiona's eyes were hazed over with pain. "Of course he does," she said. "But it will only do him harm. I've already done him enough of that."
Neria watched the woman leave - her shoulders slumped in what looked like defeat. Her mind was buzzing. Parents - they really were the cause of all our troubles.
When she got back to her room Anders was playing with Pounce on the floor. He looked up as she entered. "Where've you been?" he asked.
"I got lost on the way back. Ran into Fiona in the library," she said.
"Oh? And what did our fierce little Orlesian elf have to say for herself?"
"Funny story, actually," Neria replied sitting down on the floor next to him and handing him a pasty. "Seems she's King Alistair's mother."
Anders spluttered. "What?"
"Remember that mission King Maric went on to the deep roads? You know - the one just before the Wardens were allowed back into Ferelden?"
He blinked. "Uh, no?"
She sighed, exasperated. "Did you go to any lessons at all in the tower?" He grinned. "Short version - Fiona went to the deep roads with King Maric and Duncan of all people. Ended up sleeping with him. Result - Alistair."
"So why does the spikey haired ponce think his mother was a serving girl?"
"Hello, Anders. Fiona's an elf. And a mage. And an Orlesian. She says she wanted him to grow up without those stigmas attached to him."
"Huh. Might have made him better company."
Neria rolled her eyes. "Don't tell him, ok?" she said. "Fiona said she doesn't want him to know."
"Oh, Maker, Neria, you know you've just cursed me to let it slip in the most embarrassing way possible," Anders said, laughing. "We'll be sitting at dinner tomorrow night and the words "Did you know Fiona boofed King What's-his-stuff and you're the result?" will just fall out of my mouth. I won't be held responsible for the consequences."
"Anders, you gossip worse than Oghren."
"I'm hurt."
"In any case, don't. I don't want you to tell him. Fiona made it quite clear that she doesn't want him to know."
"I shall endeavor not to let my tongue take control of my brain then. Why did you tell me though, if you thought I was such a gossip?
"I was thinking you could tell Miranda instead," she said, smiling slightly.