Chapter 29: "Maric, Bloody Maric"
Starr was looking up at the sky, talking to Marcail as she usually did. It was the third night since the cave-in, and Alistair decided he was as ready to talk as he would ever be. He strolled over and sat down next to her. He looked up at the sky and said 'hello' to Marcail. "I took your advice. In the journal you gave me I've been telling him about me as well as some of our adventures."
Starr smiled at him, thinking he looked so handsome in the moonlight, but then he always looked handsome to her. She'd missed him the last few evenings. "He'll like that." They sat in silence, enjoying the night and each other's presence.
"Starr, about the other day . . . . We should talk," Alistair began.
She interrupted, "I'm sorry, Stair, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just don't know how I feel."
"It's not that, I want to talk about -"
"Oh, you mean you changed your mind because of what happened. I'm not surprised, I under-" she got no farther because Alistair, in exasperation, kissed her. And when she started to talk, he kissed her again.
"Shut. Up." He decided to kiss her again, just for emphasis of course. "I haven't changed my mind. I understand you're not ready. I can wait." He shifted until he had his arm around her and pulled her against him. "It's something else you said, about Maric." He paused to gather his thoughts. "When you first told me that Maric had been with you, it hurt me. It's not logical, I know it wasn't your choice, but I felt he stole something from me. Again. Then I felt betrayed by you when you said you spoke to him about me. I needed to, to think."
Starr was distressed. "I'm so sorry, Stair. I shouldn't have said anything; I didn't even think that it would hurt you like that." He didn't need to look at her to know her eyes were brown.
"You're talking again. I'm beginning to think you want me to keep kissing you," he teased. When she didn't say anything, he sighed. "Look, I need to say this, just let me finish while I have my thoughts in order. I never knew Maric. He and Cailan came to Redcliffe once, do you remember? A general introduction with the rest of the servants was my entire interaction with the great man. Didn't even see him when we went to Denerim. There was more than one night in the Denerim kennels when I wondered what was wrong with me, why I couldn't be part of a family, why my own father wanted nothing to do with me." He absent-mindedly rubbed her arm while he brooded. Starr wrapped her arms around him in silent comfort.
"I wanted his attention; I wanted him to at least acknowledge my existence, that I was more than a random stranger. Was that really asking so much? Even if it was in private, couldn't he have at least pretended he cared what happened to me? Eventually, I began to hate him. In my head, he was always 'Maric, bloody Maric' and a complete villain. I didn't dare say anything; Eamon would punish me for being disrespectful. And yet, when you told me he was with you I was jealous of you! Can you believe that? And no," he blushed as he clarified, "I don't mean in that way." Starr had to stifle a snicker. "I was jealous because regardless of the circumstances you managed to have more of a relationship with my father than I did. And I was jealous of him because he was with you, how sick is that? You are my friend; he had no business being with you. Irrational and childish, I know. It was like all those feelings from years ago came rushing back and focused on that moment, I didn't even realize how much his indifference still bothered me. I'm ashamed to admit I was overwhelmed. I'm sorry I failed you, Starr."
Starr sat up straight in surprise and temper and looked at him, "What are you talking about? You've never failed me, ever." She stood up and looked down on him in a huff, hands on her hips. "You decided to legitimate my lie and claim Marcail as your son; you may have saved my life when you found me after that damn spider; you held me when I told you about what happened; you've never made me feel dirty or less because of the past. I will box your ears if you ever say something so stupid again," she was angrier than Alistair had seen her since dealing with bullies as children.
Alistair gulped as he looked up at her, the unusual view of those long, gorgeous legs. "She is so beautiful, and her legs . . . get hold of yourself, Alistair. Now is not the time to be distracted." He cleared his throat and coughed, "Ahem, yes, well, that's what I felt. Sit down, Starr, before I get a stiff neck." He rubbed his hands over his face and waited while she sat down in front of him. Sighing wearily he continued, "I didn't dare say anything, at the mention of his name my mind just exploded. By not saying anything then, I feel I failed you. I'm not trying to make you angry but I'm not going to apologize for feeling that way." His own temper stirred, a rare event. "My very existence has been a dirty little secret and I'm getting tired of apologizing. I may apologize for my actions or lack of action, but I am damn well not going to apologize anymore for the way I feel."
They were both silent as they calmed themselves. "Are you still jealous," Starr asked quietly, Alistair's rare display of temper had shaken her.
"Of Maric? No, I'm more jealous of Cailan because he is Marcail's father and I know you're fond of him. You don't have to say it, I can tell. And, you should be, he was a good man and the father of your son. Heck, I'm jealous because he is a father and I will probably never be one. I'm glad he was good to you, tried to please you and at least gave you a better idea of what it should be like between a man and a woman. I'm even more jealous of that stupid ass you told me about than I am about Maric. Mostly, though, I'm grateful. I'm grateful you're alive. I'm grateful that Cailan was good to you. I'm grateful that he and Maric did the decent thing when they realized you were too young. I'm even grateful that you could even think of being with a stupid ass, because it means you were healing. Maybe this is hard for you to hear, but I don't want there to be any secrets between us. We've been friends for too long, and I would hate to lose that for any reason."
"Never," Starr was firm on that. Tears glistened in her eyes, but didn't fall. She didn't realize how much talking about what happened would hurt Alistair, but she should have. It hurt when he talked about feeling abandoned by Maric, but he was right. It was better to air it out rather than let it fester. Perversely, she felt secretly happy in a small part of her soul that he was jealous of Cailan. "Go on," and she waited.
"Now there's just one thing I want to know. What did Maric say? What did you talk about? Does Cailan know about Marcail? What did you think of them? Okay, that's more than one thing. I'd rather know than not know." Alistair leaned back on his hands and looked at her, waiting.
"Cailan recognized me. Oh, not right away, mud kind of got in the way. I half expected to be disciplined, I didn't realize until you said something that he spoke to Fergus about me reporting to him. Anyway, when I saw him again he was near the ballistae looking down on the Korcari Wilds. He appeared to be deep in thought, so I waited. He motioned me to walk with him, and we walked to the end away from the soldiers. He made his guards stay behind. It was very windy, making it hard to talk and hear, so when we got to the broken tower he pulled me inside. That helped a lot." She replayed the scene in her mind, "Oh! I just realized, we were talking for some time, the guards must have thought . . . Fergus must have thought . . . oh no," she groaned and blushed.
Starr waved her hand in front of her face, as if brushing away cobwebs, "After I gave him my status report and made to leave, he put his hand on my arm and asked me to stay. He said he had looked for me, to see if I was all right but couldn't find me. He asked how I was and if I had been okay, and asked about my son. Fergus must have said something. I told him we were both fine. Then he asked about Marcail's father. I didn't want anybody to overhear, but he deserved to know the truth. I told him he looked like his Uncle Alistair but had his father's blue eyes."
She thought about that evening, "I can still see the quiet joy and pride on Cailan's face, and regret for missing so many years. He looked at me so tenderly just then; he put his hand under my chin and kissed me. It felt so nice, just a quiet kiss. Then he wrapped his arms around me, holding me, and kissed me again, now I know there was passion under the tenderness. I think he might have gone further, but he stopped. He said I deserved more than he could offer, but would like to be my friend, that I could count on his support. I told him he would always have a special place in my heart, that I had no regrets because he gave me Marcail." Alistair wondered about the smile on her face, but didn't press the issue, just waited. "He seemed happy, though he regretted the difficulty he knew I must have had. He pledged his friendship and support. If I ever needed anything, I could call on him. He even gave me his ring, to consider it a symbol of his promise and something I could give to Marcail in the future. He asked about the men who brought me to him, but I decided not to tell him what they did or planned. I probably would have, after Ostagar, but we both know what happened." She brooded over Cailan's fate. "He didn't deserve what happened to him. I never regretted telling him he had a son, I think it may have been the only truly happy thing he had to think about in those last few days. Every time I saw him after that, I would tell him something about Marcail, anybody hearing probably thought I was boring him by being 'the proud mama' and that he was being kind."
"He was a good man," Alistair said quietly.
"He talked about you, you know." Starr told him. "In fact he was the one to tell me you were in camp, that you were now a Grey Warden. He said that before he died, Maric had been trying to find out which chantry you were in. He hoped that after the battle you and he could find time to talk, get to know each other. I think that's partly why he sent you to the Tower that night with Elissa."
Alistair blinked away the stinging sensation in his eyes as he absorbed the pain of loss he hadn't expected to feel. His brother wanted to know him and his father had looked for him, these were things he never expected to hear. He reached forward to take Starr's hand, "Thank you for telling me, really. I, I feel better, knowing that Maric didn't just put me out of his mind, that Cailan wanted to have a relationship." She squeezed his hand.
"I think Maric regretted giving you away, but I also think at the time he thought he was doing the right thing for you, giving you a chance at a normal life. You should have seen the look on their faces when I asked why they had pictures of you." They both snickered. "Maric started peppering me with questions, 'who was Alistair' and 'where was I from,' that sort of thing. I said you were my bestest friend ever and we knew each other in Redcliffe. I realized he must be your father, would you feel better if I said I felt like kicking him in the shins for leaving you?" Alistair's grin was her reward. "Ha! I thought so. Anyway, he wanted to know all about you, but he disguised it as curiosity about me. He and Cailan showed me around a bit; I saw a portrait of Queen Rowan. They looked sad as they gazed at it, but all Maric said was that 'she was quite a woman.' Cailan has, I mean had, her eyes, you know. Maric taught me chess, and Cailan tried to teach me how to hold a sword, but he wasn't very successful at it. Mostly I kept dropping it. After banging his toes a few times, he gave up. Over chess, Maric would ask about Redcliffe, what we did. He laughed when I told him about stealing cheese. He said he liked a good piece of cheese himself. He got really still when I told him about the stables, I think he was angry. When I told him about the chantry, his eyes got really bright and he excused himself. Cailan went after him, but I don't know what they said."
She shrugged, "He stopped asking me about Redcliffe after that. He would still talk, but sometimes I think it was more to himself. A lot of what he said I didn't really understand until later. He said sometimes you made decisions thinking they were for the best, but they didn't always turn out the way you wanted. I remember asking him if he knew he made a mistake, why he didn't just fix it. He said being king meant you couldn't think about just yourself, and that anything you did would have . . . repercussions, I think was the word he used. That even if you wanted to fix a mistake, you had to be careful because the consequences were bigger than if you were just a merchant or even a Bann." Starr frowned as she tried to remember exactly what he said. "They tried to stop me from going back, but I knew, thought I knew, that I had to. Maric told me I could come back to the lodge anytime, that if I ever needed anything he would make sure the servants knew to allow me in and to send for either him or Cailan. That was the last time I saw him." She stretched out in the grass and looked at the stars, thinking.
"So, my father really didn't forget about me, and he wanted me to have a decent life. Cailan wanted to get to know me." Alistair flung himself on the ground next to Starr. "I wonder what Maric thought he could do if he did find me, maybe he would have left me there if he thought I was happy. Maybe he would have been happy if Cailan and I could have been friends. Sounds like he wasn't the awful person I've painted him to be all these years." He felt some of his resentment fade. He didn't know if that would ever go away completely, after all, Maric was the one who decided to let Eamon raise him. He looked at the woman next to him. "But I wouldn't have known Starr. I can't imagine not ever knowing her. Maybe he could have done things differently, but I'm glad she's in my life."
Starr finally broke the silence, "Are you mad at me?"
"Maker! No. Thank you for telling me. I'm just thinking. I realize it's a rare event, but I do like to indulge occasionally," he said drily. He quoted Zevran, "Fate, she iz a tricky whore." His bad attempt at an Antivan accent had them both laughing.
The sounds of their laughter drifted into the night sky.
