A/N: Another double-post, because I have stuff I want to get out of the way before In Your Heart Shall Burn kicks off. This one picks up where the other leaves off and it's mostly Alistair fretting about things he really doesn't need to fret about, Fiona also going through the mill a bit, and Madanach and Maia, in their own ways, Not Helping.

Summary: Alistair seeks the help of the one person in Haven who might be able to help, and the resulting conversation sets them both on a path that could lead to either ecstasy or misery. But Alistair's problems are not so easily banished, particularly when Madanach is in no mood to give up.

Early hours of the morning, and Fiona could not sleep. Dreams kept her awake all too often most nights. Dreams of dead friends – her fellow mages, lost in the rebellion. Duncan dying at Ostagar, accusing eyes wanting to know why her magic hadn't saved him. Maric, poor beloved Maric who she'd never really got over, walking into darkness and looking over his shoulder with sadness in his eyes, wanting to know why she'd not walked into it with him.

Her poor, innocent, abandoned baby, who'd gone to sleep one night lulled into dreamland by a mother who loved him, and waking into a world without her. Grown into a man who had a good heart and a strong sword-arm and a charming smile… but tainted Warden blood and a pit of self-loathing behind his eyes that matched her own, having grown up believing no one loved or wanted him. Free of his parents' legacies, but Fiona couldn't help but wonder if she'd done the right thing.

She didn't know, but she could do nothing tonight. He wouldn't be back for days yet, riding at the Herald's side, and when his eyes fell on her, they changed. She'd seen it all right. He'd look at a married woman and instead of looking away, he'd keep looking, love and admiration all over his face. He couldn't leave well alone, and while Fiona couldn't fault his taste, she had a feeling the Herald's holy fire would kill him if he wasn't careful. Or more precisely, Madanach's extremely not-holy fire might do the job, which was why she kept that man close. Close enough to intervene if (when) everything fell apart.

But right now all was calm, so Fiona dealt with her insomnia by wrapping up warm, putting down a fire glyph to warm the command tent up with, and sitting up and going over a few bits of paperwork in her command tent in the vain hope it might lull her to sleep. They were just about there with tracking down all the MageGuard cells, and Leliana's agents had been most helpful in spreading word of the alliance out. It turned out many of the missions had been trying to identify mage-friendly nobles or find hotspots of trouble and deal with the problems in order to win friends among common citizens, but an alliance with the Inquisition meant those missions were either unnecessary or better achieved with Inquisition help, and so the MageGuard were returning to their new base.

Which meant logistical problems all of their own, but the thing about camping was that it didn't cost much to get some more tents erected for them all, and Madanach was being very helpful in organising it all. Fiona would never say this to his face, but his experience was invaluable. Damn the man, but he was just too useful. She hoped she wouldn't have to kill him to save her son from his jealous wrath.

So engrossed was she in her work that she didn't notice the figure approaching the tent until his shadow blocked the light. Crying out, she shrank back, reaching for her staff in panic as she saw heavily armoured male warrior, instinctively thought Templar and threw down a glyph of repulsion.

Too late she saw eyes reflecting magelights, and heard the wail as the glyph flung him back… although not as well as it should have done. Someone seemed able to resist force magic, at least a little.

Alistair staggered back, falling to his knees in the snow, letting a full pack fall to the floor as he held up his hands.

"I'm sorry!" Alistair blurted out, confused and scared and looking for all the world like Maric and Fiona had to grab the table very suddenly to keep upright, because she'd been very intentionally keeping him at a distance and not interacting too much with him, mainly because just looking at him hurt. And he'd respected that and backed off and she'd been rather glad not just of the space, but that he was making friends and making a life for himself here.

Apparently something had gone wrong, because he was back, early, with all his things, not just what he'd taken to the Fallow Mire… which meant something had gone wrong for him, and somehow he'd taken it into his head to seek her out.

The Maker was clearly having a marvellous cosmic joke at her expense.

"Alistair?" she whispered. "Alistair, what's wrong? Aren't you supposed to be with the Herald?"

Alistair shook his head, hands falling into his lap as he looked away, shaking his head.

"It went wrong," Alistair said quietly. "Everything's wrong, I ruined everything, and now I've got to leave the Inquisition and go to the Deep Roads and try and die honourably, and Madanach seems to think you can help but buggered if I know how."

Fiona dispelled the glyph, restoking the nearby campfire instead and went over to him, her blood chilling as she saw him staring up at her in the firelight, broken and despairing and looking like he was about to cry.

But he's fine, he's OK, he was making friends, finding a place here, he doesn't need his mother. She remembered telling Madanach all that, and Madanach firmly insisting Alistair was not all right, not at all, and he did need in fact need his mother very badly. She'd disbelieved him, because distrusting Madanach at least a little was rapidly becoming an instinctive reaction. But in this at least, Fiona realised he'd been right. Alistair was far from all right.

Fiona knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his back.

"What happened?" she asked, just about keeping her voice calm. "Alistair, what's wrong? What did you do? Is the Herald throwing you out?"

Alistair shook his head, glancing up at her.

"No," he sighed. "But she will when she finds out. Grand Enchanter… do you know how to perform the Rite of Tranquillity?"

No, because that particular fate lay in the hands of the Templars, although there were those in the Inquisition's Templars who might. Not that Fiona was ever going to inflict that on anyone. Never again was she going to be sitting up late, biting her lip, compiling a list of enough names to fill the Chantry's annual quota and then agonising over the decision, each rite breaking her heart. And then she realised why he was asking.

"No," she whispered, feeling the tears threatening to come, then the rage, the mere idea of her baby having his mind wrecked. "No, absolutely not, I refuse, I will not… how could you even ask me such a thing?"

She had a hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to be sick, and she was shaking all over, she knew it, and he'd flinched back guiltily, clearly thinking she was some sort of madwoman… or possibly misinterpreting entirely and just thinking it was a sore point. Which it was, but he couldn't know the half of it.

"I'm sorry," Alistair said, not meeting her eyes. "I know you started your whole rebellion over it, I know you may have had it happen to loved ones, I know mages hate it, but please, I need it, I just want it to stop, I want to not feel any more, maybe if I don't want anything any more, it'll be all right, Fiona please!"

"No!" Fiona cried, her mind full of memories, memories of three decades ago but still fresh in her mind, memories of happy smiling baby in her arms, beaming up at her as she sang elven lullabies to him. He would never remember, but she couldn't forget, and she could never bear to see that baby's happy smile wiped out forever.

"No, don't ask me," Fiona said roughly. "Don't ever ask me that again. I cannot… I will not allow it!"

"I'm sorry," Alistair gasped, hands to his head, and then she realised he was crying, sobbing quietly, shoulders shaking as if he was unable to stop. "I'm so sorry, what was I thinking, I should never have asked… please make it stop, alcohol was the only thing that ever made it go away and I can't even do that any more, please..."

Fiona couldn't make it stop. But she couldn't keep him at bay either. Not her baby. Without even thinking she'd reached out to him, taking him in her arms and doing her best to hold and comfort a grown human man who no longer fit into her embrace.

"I've got you," Fiona whispered to him. "I've got you, child. I'm here. I've got you. I've got you, sshhhh."

Alistair had gone rather still, clearly a bit surprised but not objecting either, in fact he was repositioning himself, and soon he was sitting in the snow, head resting against her shoulder.

"Thank you," Alistair whispered. "You don't have to do this. You must have a million better things to do than look after me."

"Not right now I don't," Fiona said, wishing she could tell him everything. It might help, knowing he had a mother who loved him. Or it might push him over the edge. But she could take care of him at least. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. But what happened, Alistair? Is Elisif back already or did you ride on ahead?"

"She sent me on ahead," Alistair said quietly. "Got in earlier today with Dorian. I went to Madanach's to get the Calling spells refreshed and bring him news and ended up staying for dinner… and I fell asleep. In his bed."

In his… what? THAT was not something she'd have seen coming. But it might explain why Alistair was here, wanting feelings to go away and saying he'd ruined everything. Fiona had not thought Alistair's tastes ran that way, but you could never tell.

"Alistair," Fiona whispered. "Alistair, what did you do? What happened?"

Something must have done. She presumed consensually. Madanach would not have sent a man he'd assaulted to the man's own mother. Not when said mother was a match for him in a fight.

"Nothing happened!" Alistair sighed. "Not like… not like that. He just tucked me up in bed in my underwear and let me sleep. He got in next to me later on, but nothing happened. Madanach didn't do anything wrong. He's been so sweet and so kind and I know he's usually not like that with other people, but he's still always taken care of me. There's nothing wrong with him, Grand Enchanter. It… it's me. The problem's me."

He'd sat up and shifted away, perhaps the use of the formal title reminding him it was probably inappropriate to get quite this close to the leader of the mages who he'd barely spoken to more than a few times. Fiona let him go even as her heart cried out for him to come back. Because there was nothing wrong with him. Not in her eyes.

"Alistair, don't say that. You're a good man," Fiona told him, stroking his back in the hope it would help. "I know you don't know me that well, but nothing about you has given me the impression that you're some sort of crazed monster."

"I hide it well," Alistair said, glancing up at her and grinning a little. "But underneath this extremely good-looking exterior lurks a terrible human being who wants to haul Madanach away and do awful things to him."

Frankly, Fiona frequently got urges to fling either lightning bolts or heavy objects in Madanach's direction herself, but why would that bother Alistair this much? Surely everyone had moments of wanting to hit Madanach – he cheerfully admitted himself that there was no one he couldn't needle into a violent rage given time.

Except she'd also seen him being a kind and caring parent to little Maia, and it also occurred to him someone else had been on the receiving end of Madanach's well-hidden nurturing side. It had been Madanach who'd found him in Alexius's dungeons, it had been Madanach who'd told Fiona Alistair needed help, Madanach who'd sent him here, Madanach who'd clearly been spending a lot of time looking after and caring for her son, and going out of his way not to upset him.

"Oh," she gasped as it dawned on her there was a whole other world of other bad things a man might do to another. "Oh! What, really? You want to… to him? I didn't know you were… that he was your type."

"Nor did I," Alistair laughed bitterly. "All my life I've preferred women. My love life's been a complete failure but I never really met any man who did it for me, not really. I mean, there was one, but he made it pretty clear he wasn't interested and we weren't going to mention it again, so I never did… And I thought I fancied Elisif. I mean, I do, have you seen her, she's gorgeous! But… I can't stop thinking about doing things to her husband, and it'll hurt him and she'll kill me, and I would deserve it, because it's wrong to do things like that to someone, especially a dear friend who's been sweet and kind and wonderful and who you love dearly. I'm scared and confused and I can't deal with any of it, and I want it all to go away and just STOP."

Alistair did stop then, breathing heavily and getting himself under control again, and Fiona felt simultaneously sad for Alistair and yet relieved that this wasn't the worst it could be, and quite honestly, realising you were attracted to someone who was a gender you hadn't thought you fancied would shake up anyone. Especially if they were married. To someone you also had feelings for.

It was all rather complicated, and Fiona was fairly certain she did not want her son getting caught up in noble politics and ending up as a kept paramour to the Herald or her husband. But she couldn't really tell him that. All she could do was look after him.

"It's going to be all right," Fiona whispered, rubbing his back. "It all sounds complicated and confusing, but there is nothing wrong with finding a man attractive, or a woman, or both or other combinations. There is nothing wrong with you, da'len. You cannot help how you feel. If either one was single, perhaps something could happen. I might even encourage you. As it is… child, I think you are going to be disappointed. They have each other. I am sorry."

"I know," Alistair said, staring at the ground. "But thank you. You… you don't think I'm a bad person?"

"No, not at all," Fiona said tenderly, and Alistair did look up at her then, smiling gratefully, and Fiona wasn't entirely prepared for the emotions that hit her, because he looked just like Maric, and he looked handsome and adorable and he was her son. Her baby, who'd once beamed at her whenever he woke up and squealed at illusion spells and babbled along to elven lullabies. Hard to reconcile that with the grown man before her, but she could see traces of that baby still.

"Thank you," Alistair said, sounding truly relieved. "Really, thank you. For putting up with some over-emotional half-crazed lunatic turn up in the middle of the night and ramble on about his personal problems at you. You barely know me and you in no way had to put up with my babbling, but I'm glad you did. Look, I don't want to impose, but I don't think I can sleep in the cabin next to theirs any more and I don't have anywhere else to go… er, have you got anywhere I can bed down in? It doesn't need to be anything fancy, I spent most of the Blight slogging round Ferelden and sleeping in a tent, I'm used to roughing it. I'm no trouble, I promise. You'll barely know I'm here."

"I will find you somewhere," Fiona promised. "It'll be a little basic, but you'll have what you need. Stay as long as you like. I'd love to have you here."

This was a terrible mistake and something she was certainly going to regret, but she couldn't just leave him. He clearly needed help, and she owed him that at least. She couldn't tell him everything, but she could take care of him as best she could.

"Thank you, Grand Enchanter," Alistair repeated, seeming a bit surprised at her actually wanting him around, and Fiona suddenly felt annoyed at the idea of someone she'd once held in her arms and changed the nappies of being that formal with her.

"Call me Fiona," Fiona said impulsively. He was in no state to have a distraught elf wailing all over him and dropping the revelation he was elf-blooded on him, not now, maybe not ever. Let him live free of the weight of a mixed blooded legacy. He'd suffered enough. But damned if she couldn't be a little closer than just the Grand Enchanter.

"Fiona? Are – are you sure?" Alistair said, surprised, and Fiona's breath caught in her throat again as she realised that little line in his forehead was one she shared, and that his eyes were faintly reflective – not like hers were but more than a human's would normally be. And human features were normally stronger – his were delicately sculpted and beautiful, simply beautiful. Her legacy was there, if you had eyes to see. Subtle signs of elf-blood that a human might miss, but to an elf were all too obvious. Maybe he would never know, but she knew and she would not let him go uncared for.

Fiona nodded.

"Of course," she said quietly. "From one ex-Warden to another. We both know what it means to keep the world safe from the Blight. And you even fought in one!"

"Yeah," Alistair said, face darkening. "Didn't get to finish it though. I suppose you heard how Alistair the Idiot walked out in a fit of pique and missed the grand climax?"

Fiona had not really heard much of the details, despite listening out desperately as news of a Blight that was savaging Ferelden had reached her in Cumberland, only that there'd been a disagreement and he'd left. She'd tried to find out more but all she could discover was that Warden Alistair seemed to have disappeared after the Landsmeet. Maybe he'd lost his chance at being a hero, but at least he'd survived. She reached out and took his hand, wanting to comfort him.

"You had your reasons, I am sure," she told him. "Alistair, my boy, you fought in a Blight and did not falter. What you did saved lives. You're a hero as far as I'm concerned. Everyone who fights in a Blight is worthy of respect."

Alistair looked away, blushing and whispering his thanks, and Fiona realised this was going to be harder than she'd thought. He can't know. He mustn't know. He'd never understand.

And yet here she was, unable to let him go. She let go of his hand and shifted away before things got out of hand.

"I should fetch you some bedding, let you sleep," Fiona said, preparing to leave… and then Alistair swore under his breath and reached out to stop her.

"Wait. Fiona."

"What is it?" she asked. Alistair was looking guilty about something, and she realised what as soon as he handed over what was left of her amulet.

"I broke it," he admitted. "One of the Avvars shot me and it broke. I'm so sorry. It was expensive, wasn't it? Oh god, it's probably irreplaceable, isn't it? Made of some rare ingredient only available three times a year when Satina's waning or something. Maker, you're going to throw me out or kill me yourself for this, aren't you – eh?"

Fiona froze still, overwhelmed by her own memories of being far in the Deep Roads, the Calling ringing in her own ears and feeling constantly sick with terror and betrayal because she'd not even been a Warden five years, she shouldn't be hearing this already!

Alistair going through the same thing broke her heart.

"Hang the amulet, it was cheap rubbish anyway but it was all we had," Fiona said softly. "Alistair, you should have come to me first! The enchantment is a simple one. Do you have anything we can put it on? Something unenchanted."

Alistair reached into his pocket, looking a bit hesitant before shrugging and opening his hand to reveal an Andrastian amulet of the eternal flame, looking like it had once been shattered but repaired. An amulet Fiona recognised instantly, because it had once been hers… but she'd left it with her baby son so he'd have something from her. And he still had it. He'd still looked after it all this time.

"It was my mother's," Alistair said, quite unnecessarily although he wasn't to know. "It's all I have of hers. I don't know what she thought of magic but I don't think she'd mind if she knew it was to help protect me. You won't damage it, will you?"

They'd told him nothing. He had no idea about his mother but he'd still thought about her. Still treasured the idea of her. It was all Fiona could do not to take him in her arms again and whisper that he didn't have to cling to a ghost any more. But she didn't think he was ready to hear it and likely never would be. She certainly wasn't ready to say it.

"I won't," Fiona managed to say, hand shaking as she tucked it away. "And I don't think she'd mind at all. She'd want you to be safe and happy, I think."

"I hope so," Alistair sighed. "They tell me she lived long enough to name me and died hours after I was born. She was only a serving maid. Not well-educated or anything. Just ordinary. I don't know what she'd think of the life I've had. I don't even know what she looked like. I suppose she must have been pretty, but I don't know." He noticed her staring at him, and what she must look like, she had no idea, but it clearly had an effect because he laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck again. "Ah, but you don't want to listen to me ramble all night, or what's left of it, do you? I should turn in."

"Yes," Fiona whispered, fighting with all her heart the longing to just tell him everything, tell him she could fill that mother-shaped hole in his mind, only the certain knowledge it would be a disaster holding her back. "That might be a good idea. I'll get someone to sort a bed out for you, and get this to the Formari. Don't worry, they'll be careful with it."

"Thank you," Alistair said, looking relieved. Fiona hesitated, wondering if she should say more, before deciding to the Fade with it, he needed to hear something. His mother loved him and his mother was proud of him, and he needed to hear that, she knew. She just wished she could say it directly. But she was Orlesian, and Orlesians were adept at saying things without saying them.

"Oh, and Alistair," Fiona said, hoping the emotion in her voice wasn't too obvious. "I am sure your mother would be proud of you. She should be, anyway. I know you've made mistakes… but there is still so much to be proud of. I hope you can see that – if not now, one day."

"That's… er, thank you," Alistair said, sounding utterly bewildered… but pleased. The blush on his cheeks was just visible in the half-light. "That's really nice of you, but you don't have to say things like that. You barely know me."

"I know enough," Fiona said, tremor in her voice. "Go on, rest. I'll have Lysas sort your bedding out."

With that, Fiona excused herself, wanting to get out of there before emotion really did get the better of her. Any longer talking to him, and she just knew her resolve would crumble. Damn Madanach, it was almost like he planned this. But despite that, she couldn't bring herself to be too angry. Her son was here. Her son was here. And he was strong and handsome and skilled and bright and funny, and she was so, so fiercely proud of him.

Maybe she couldn't be a mother to him. Maybe she'd have to keep some distance. But by Andraste, he was her boy, and whatever he needed, whatever dangers he faced, she'd be there to protect him, no matter what.

Enchanter-General Madanach might just regret sending him here. But that was a discussion that could wait until the morning.

Two days, and nothing. No news. No sign of anything from Haven. Elisif wasn't back yet and Madanach didn't seem to be reacting or anything. Maybe that was a good thing, but damn it if the wait wasn't killing him.

At least he wasn't actively panicking, fretting, freaking out or looking for creative ways to end the pain. Fiona hadn't really said anything more since that night, but she'd made a point of stopping by to make sure he was all right, make sure he was eating, make a bit of small talk and generally mother him a bit. Which was nice of her. Unwarranted, but nice of her. Alistair just hoped she didn't fancy him as well, because his love life was complicated enough as it is. And thankfully, Fiona wasn't the only person over here being nice to him. Blackwall had been up the day before, and Bethany was turning out to be surprisingly good company. Useful in other ways too… or at least that's what he'd hoped. Alas, as in so many other things, he was to be disappointed.

"Sorry, Alistair," Bethany said apologetically. "No news. Madanach's just keeping a low profile. I stopped by to talk for a bit, but he didn't really want to. I told him you were here though. He seemed pleased about that."

"Is he… all right?" Alistair whispered. He had his own tent now, next door to Fiona's, and while the mages were a bit suspicious, they weren't hostile at least. And Bethany had been going out of her way to be nice to him. Well, he had helped sort out her love life, that had to count for something, right? Sadly, it would take more than Bethany Hawke's assistance to sort his out. But he could at least get information off her. "I mean, he's… he's OK?"

"He asked me the same question," Bethany said, smiling. "Why you two can't just talk to each other, I don't know. You're both worried about the other. Can't you just tell him what's up?"

"No!" Alistair cried. "I'm not… look, it's embarrassing. He'd hate me. He'll hate me even more if he ever finds out I fancy his wife too… oh balls."

Bethany's eyes shot up, her cheeks stained pink, and then she burst out laughing.

"It isn't funny!" Alistair cried, mortified. Bethany just laughed harder, seeming to find this hilarious.

"BOTH of them?" Bethany laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. "Maker, Alistair, what have you done? Madanach AND Elisif? You don't make it easy, do you? Is this why you're here now? Madanach found out and turned you down?"

"No!" Alistair protested, starting to wish he'd never asked her for help in the first place. "Maker, Bethany, please. They don't know. Neither of them know. I'd really like to keep it that way, because this is embarrassing enough as it is. If either of them knew, I would literally have to flee Haven, run into the Deep Roads, find the biggest hole I could and fling myself into it so as not to have to deal with the shame."

Bethany just giggled, and this really wasn't helping. Not at all. Alistair tried to recall what he'd heard about the Hawke family. Trouble, the lot of them, the story went. He could believe it.

"Oh, you're not the worst I've ever met," Bethany said cheerfully. "Marian is far, far worse. You just fancied someone married, fancied their husband as well, didn't deal with it very well and now you're embarrassed. Marian got together with an apostate who blew up half a city and she's not even ashamed."

Alistair could really live without that particular comparison.

"This is the Herald of Andraste, Bethany," Alistair cried. "She's a hero, a leader, an inspiration to everyone, and here am I thinking about her and her husband and wanting to… Maker's Breath. This is a bit more than a romantic embarrassment, this is verging on sacrilege, and it's definitely adultery, and we all know how well this sort of thing turned out last time!"

"You're hardly the Maker, Alistair," Bethany said, cracking a smile at that idea.

"No, I'm mortal and therefore very easy for either of them to come and murder," Alistair sighed. "Hence me being here in the mage camp hiding behind Fiona. But thank you for checking up on him. I was worried."

"Well, I can get Leliana to keep an eye on things as well," Bethany promised. "But honestly, he seemed OK. Just a bit down."

And then both were distracted by someone squealing his name. A five year old someone with red hair streaming out behind her as she sprinted over the snow.

"ALISTAAAAIIIRRRR!"

Maia ran up to him and flung herself on to him, almost knocking him over from the impact. Alistair managed to stabilise himself with one arm while catching her with the other, holding the little five year old to his chest while she cuddled him fiercely.

"You went away!" Maia cried. "You were in our house but you went away in the middle of the night and left us! Why are you living here now? You need to come back!"

Bethany was looking at him like this was his problem, and clearly her father hadn't told her much, or she wouldn't be asking him. But how did you explain to a little girl that you couldn't be near her parents any more because you'd monumentally screwed up and were a danger to all concerned?

Very very carefully, that was how.

"I'm sorry, little one," he murmured. "I miss you too. But I can't live in Haven any more. I… I said something I shouldn't to your dad, and now it's best for everyone if I'm not there."

Maia's little fist promptly hit his chest as she glared up at him, the spitting image of her father.

"No it isn't!" Maia snapped. "Daddy's sad! And he said you had to go away but he wouldn't say why either. No one will tell me anything because I'm too little, and everyone is sad, and I miss you and how are you supposed to be my bodyguard if you're all the way out here?"

Maia's voice had risen as she'd cried, a five year old's frustrations building and on the last word, flames suddenly started breaking out as the tent flap caught fire.

Alistair didn't even think about it, Templar training kicking in and magic-dowsing abilities flaring and the fire, mercifully, went out, leaving just smoke and a charred tent flap and one shocked five year old staring at him.

"You put my magic out!" Maia whispered, heartbroken.

"Yes," Alistair admitted, realising that he might just have made things that bit worse, and that using Templar abilities on the little girl with a fear of Templars might have just put her off him for life. "Er. Sorry. Only you'd set fire to my tent. Um. Oh no, please don't cry?"

Maia had had two days of Alistair gone and her father sad, and no one telling her anything, and this was the last straw. Maia promptly burst into tears, howling her grief out to the world, and about the only saving grace was that at least Maia was letting him cuddle her still, perching in his lap and wailing into his coat.

Unfortunately, she'd not come alone. Unfortunately, a parent had brought her, a parent who had a meeting with the Grand Enchanter… and a parent who'd recognise his daughter's heartbroken cries anywhere.

Madanach was approaching, dressed in a fur-lined kilt and fur-lined parka, axe at his waist, taking in the scene before him and staring at Alistair with no trace of emotion on his face, staring for one uncomfortable second, before ignoring Alistair and kneeling down next to him to comfort Maia instead.

"Ventu mi, inyeen," he said quietly to her, lapsing into Tamrielic, and Maia left Alistair's arms and ran to her father's, clinging to his coat and sobbing incoherently, lapsing into her native tongue herself and clearly complaining about why her bodyguard had been banished to the mage camp and that he'd just nixed her magic as well.

Madanach didn't even meet Alistair's eyes, holding Maia in his arms and quietly talking to her as he cuddled her, and while Alistair didn't understand the words, he heard the tone behind it and it was kind, fatherly, tender and it worked on Maia, who slowly dried her eyes and whispered a heartfelt question to her father.

"I can't promise anything, cariad, it isn't my decision," Madanach said, sitting back on his heels and letting her go. "But I will talk to Alistair and ask him if he'll consider moving back. That I can promise." He looked up and stared straight into Alistair's eyes, not smiling but not angry either. Just… saddened, and Alistair felt his throat go dry as he stared back at Madanach and wanted very badly to cuddle him back and have some kind, fatherly words murmured in his ear.

And then his brain had to ruin everything by helpfully providing images of kissing Madanach, rolling him on to his back, pinning him to the snow and rutting up against him while Madanach cried out his name, and Alistair gasped and shuffled back, knowing he was blushing again.

Maker, Madanach, I'm going to end up hurting you, RUN, you fool!

Madanach's eyes had widened in alarm and he reached out a hand, and Alistair's panic got even worse.

And then a shadow fell over them and Alistair looked up to see Grand Enchanter Fiona herself standing over them, arms folded and staring Madanach down, radiating fury.

"Alistair is here under my protection, Madanach," Fiona said coldly. "You will not harm him. Step away from the boy, he's clearly upset."

Madanach sighed, withdrew, gritted his teeth and turned to meet Fiona's gaze.

"Give me some credit for not hurting him in front of Maia?" Madanach growled. "I'm just here to talk, Fiona. Believe it or not, I was worried about him."

Fiona glanced over at Bethany for a second opinion.

"What do you think, Bethany, should I allow this?" Fiona asked. And Bethany looked Madanach over, then Alistair, and then she actually grinned.

"They'll be fine. We should give them a bit of privacy, but they do need to talk."

Fiona nodded and then turned to Alistair, who was staring at Bethany in shocked betrayal.

"Are you willing to talk to him? You know you don't have to. I can have him removed."

Alistair needed Madanach to be as far away as possible for all their sakes. But Bethany was grinning at him, and Maia was looking hopefully at him, and Madanach… well, he was just staring wistfully at him, and Alistair couldn't bring himself to send him away entirely.

"I'll talk to him," Alistair said quietly, thinking that Madanach at least was owed an explanation. "As long as we can have privacy. That includes Maia being out of earshot."

"I can agree to that," Madanach purred, finally smiling as he handed Maia over to Bethany to keep away for a bit. Fiona, after a little bit of persuasion, eventually also agreed to back off to a safe distance, sitting down at her desk in the command tent just within Alistair's line of vision, although out of earshot. Which was oddly comforting, knowing the Grand Enchanter genuinely did have his back.

It did however leave him glancing apprehensively at Madanach, who'd gone awfully quiet… and was still kneeling in the snow, Maker that could not be good for him.

Alistair retrieved a pelt for him to sit on, which Madanach accepted with a relieved smile.

"Thank you, my friend, that's very kind of you," Madanach told him, making himself comfortable before turning concerned eyes on Alistair. "Are you all right? You seemed… agitated the other night. Alistair, I swear, I would no more have harmed you than Maia. And Elisif would not have minded you staying at our house if you were in need. She knew the Calling was affecting you, she'd understand."

"That's not the..." Alistair put his head in his hands, not sure how to even begin explaining this one. "Maker, Madanach. I couldn't have stayed. I'm not sure what's happening to me, but I do know I'm extremely messed up, probably not well, I've got the Calling killing me from within and I'm likely to ruin everything I touch. Also I could really use a drink and someone's hidden the entire mage camp's alcohol supply while I was asleep. Madanach, I'm sorry, I'm just not safe to be around, especially not for you."

Madanach was not running, in fact Madanach was edging nearer, and then Alistair felt fingertips on his cheek and a calming spell flared, his anxiety fading at Madanach's touch.

"Is that better," Madanach said gently, thumb rubbing Alistair's cheek. It took all Alistair's resistance not to lean into the touch. Once a Templar, always a Templar, and even a calming spell could only treat the anxiety. It didn't touch Alistair's mental walls. It just meant a general was peering out from inside the fortress, not a terrified man having a nervous breakdown.

"Not really," Alistair admitted, eyes opening as he stared back at Madanach, wondering if he knew what he'd just done. "Madanach, you're putting yourself in danger just being around me."

"How so," Madanach purred, not actually seeming that bothered, in fact he was even smiling.

"Because I keep wanting to hurt you," Alistair said, breathing rapidly as he finally admitted it. "You've been so sweet and so kind, and how do I repay you? I keep wanting to… to do things to you. Bad things."

"Bad things?" Madanach purred, one corner of his mouth twisting up in a grin. "Do tell me more."

All right, this was far enough, Alistair was having no more of this. This had to stop now. Madanach either hadn't properly understood him or thought he was joking or possibly both.

"Madanach, take this seriously, would you?" Alistair snapped at him. "You're in mortal danger. Well, in danger of being hurt and humiliated anyway. STOP laughing."

Madanach hadn't stopped grinning throughout, smiling up at Alistair, and what more did he have to do to convince him he was serious, pounce on him and show him?

Part of him thought that was a very good idea, even though the man's little girl wasn't so very far away, watching this intently, and Alistair hastily shifted back inside the tent, out of her line of vision.

"Madanach, please," Alistair whispered. "Will you please just take me at my word and leave? You are going to get hurt!"

Madanach's smile had faded a little, as he regarded him coolly, and then his next words changed everything.

"Maybe I want to be."

"What?" Alistair whispered, not sure he'd heard that right. "You can't possibly..."

"Maybe I want you to hurt me," Madanach said, lowering his voice and moving to sit right next to Alistair, his intent unmistakeable. This was a lover's pose or nothing was. "Maybe I've been having frenetic fantasies involving you forcing me to my knees and sucking you off. Maybe I want you to tie me down and fuck me. Maybe I had this exact same conversation with Elisif years ago. And maybe I can see the same desires in your eyes I could see in hers."

Alistair no longer had the ability to form coherent sentences, his blood draining south and pooling there, his cock hard and wanting very badly for Madanach to get his hands and other things onto it, and his brain apparently not functioning at all. Alistair began to realise he'd misread the situation entirely, and he might be about to pay the price. They both might.

"Madanach, I don't understand," Alistair whispered, inching away because if he didn't get away now, something very very bad was going to happen.

"No?" Madanach purred, and mercifully he didn't move any closer, just crouching in the entrance of Alistair's tent and watching gleefully as Alistair backed away into his bedding. "Then let me explain it to you. Apparently a side effect of dragon blood is the urge to control and dominate. Dragonborns will often get urges to pounce on their partners and really fucking claim them. Elisif had the same problem, I did not see a downside to this and so I married her. That you're getting the same urges with me is, frankly, adorable, and I don't see a downside to that either."

"What?" Alistair whispered again, taking refuge in confusion because that meant he could avoid looking at the truth of the situation and ignore the fact that certain fairly key assumptions he'd had about himself, Madanach, Elisif, the world in general, were falling apart.

"Means whatever you keep thinking you want to do to me, I probably won't mind," Madanach said, still with that pleased, predatory smile on his face. Alistair hadn't seen it on him before, but from the way Madanach held himself, Alistair had a feeling this, this was the real Madanach, and the version he'd seen before was… not fake, but very carefully presented.

Alistair came to the uncomfortable realisation that he didn't know Madanach anything like as well as he thought and he didn't know a damn thing about Tamrielic culture, and both of these things were about to bite him in the backside. Quite possibly more literally than he'd thought.

"Elisif'll mind!" Alistair managed to get out, thinking adultery was regarded the same way everywhere, right? "She can breathe fire, Madanach! I saw her FREEZE A MAN SOLID with the Thu'um. She's scary! And terrifying. And dangerous. Beautifully dangerous. But dangerous. And frightening. In a good way. But also in a bad way, if she finds me in bed with her husband."

"Not necessarily," Madanach purred, and Alistair could just feel his brain shutting down, refusing to entertain any more of this because this sort of thing just did not happen. Not to people like him. Married couples married each other and stayed together, with just the two of them, happily ever after, hopefully. Or possibly if the marriage had been a business arrangement, with both parties free to pursue lovers on the side. But they did not, absolutely did not, marry from love and then start inviting people into their bed. They just didn't. Which meant Madanach could not possibly be propositioning him on Elisif's behalf as well as his own. Which meant Alistair could pretend it wasn't happening and retreat into happy denial.

"I'm not taking your word for that!" Alistair said firmly. "I want confirmation from Elisif personally." Which would not be forthcoming, not under any circumstances, and then Elisif could deal with the unfaithful husband who liked men.

Madanach's smile actually widened, and it occurred to Alistair that wasn't as certain a thing as he'd thought either.

"A fair point," Madanach laughed. "Does that mean you'd say yes if she agreed to it all?"

"Which she won't," Alistair pointed out. She definitely wouldn't. Would she? Madanach just smiled.

"Well, she's not here, so we'll all just have to wait until she gets back, won't we?" Madanach said, sounding far too cheerful for Alistair's liking. "In the meantime, we can all relax and be friends, can't we? Maia missed you, you know. She loved you anyway, then she was all excited at the thought of another Dragonborn to talk to, and then you went away! She's heartbroken, Alistair."

Madanach was shaking his head as he spoke, and Alistair really wished there wasn't a little girl mixed up in all this, because Maia was a cute little thing who deserved none of this.

"Is she all right?" Alistair whispered. "I didn't want to hurt her, you know."

"She's not happy but she'll cope," Madanach told him, reaching into his belt-pouch and producing a scrap of paper. "But you need to make it up to her. So I'll bring her over here regularly and she can see you during the day and I'll collect her in the afternoon, yes? As for what you'll be doing, she was keen to spend time with another Dragonborn, so I told her she could perhaps teach you more Shouts. Like this one. I wrote it out for her, but Maia assures me the words are fine. I think it's pronounced Feim Zii Gron?"

Alistair took the parchment off him and saw three more words, each with the stylised dot and line pattern above them, Madanach's handwriting this time but definitely a Thu'um. Feim Zii Gron. Something to do with the Fade? Binding a spirit?

"It'll make you temporarily ethereal, like a spirit, and immune to being injured," Madanach continued. "Don't worry, it wears off and you're back to normal after. Maia knows it well, it's one we've trained her to use in a fight so she can get away in safety. She's very keen to help you with it. We – well, I – thought you should try one that won't hurt anyone."

Alistair didn't know what to say. He'd got up this morning afraid of what he might do, afraid of the monster within… and it turned out Madanach was just fine with it. Which was as weird and bizarre as a version of the Chant where Maferath waved Andraste off to liaisons with the Maker with a kiss and a smile, or where the Maker had decided to take Maferath as a Bridegroom as well.

Alistair didn't know where they all went from here, but he did know he missed them. All three of them. Damn them all, was there a way of getting looked after and finding out about this Dragonborn business without having to risk jealous rages and eternal damnation? Maybe not, but at least he'd got himself a few days grace from thinking about it all.

"Thank you," Alistair whispered. "I mean, you don't have to – but thank you."

Madanach smiled again, the predatory look vanishing as he patted Alistair's shoulder then gently touched his cheek. And then he leaned forward and his lips met Alistair's, just once, just briefly, barely giving Alistair a chance to respond before letting him go and withdrawing.

That was probably for the best, because no one had kissed Alistair in a very long time, and certainly not like that. Despite Madanach's claims of being a terrible human being, that kiss had not been one of lust or of claiming. It had been one born of gentleness and affection and love. Alistair still didn't know what was going on, but hardly anyone had shown him any of that in years.

Madanach had let him go and gone to find Maia, retrieving her from Bethany and bringing her back. She seemed to have forgotten her early tears, running over with Frogella clutched in her hands and beaming up at him.

"Daddy, Daddy, is Alistair coming back to live with us?" Maia cried, bouncing up and down… until a small shake of her father's head had her face falling.

"But why?" Maia wailed, distraught. "I miss him!"

"I know, so do I, but he needs some space, Maia bach," Madanach explained, kneeling down to console her. "And sometimes when you love someone, you have to give them what they need even when you don't like it. But that might change a little after your mother comes back, and we agreed you can spend today with him, and I'll bring you up here every day if you like."

Maia pouted, not really understanding any of this at all, but she could tell her father was not to be argued with on this one.

"You'll bring me every day?" Maia said, frowning. Madanach smiled and ran a hand over her hear.

"Every day," he promised and Maia brightened up. She cheered up even more when Madanach told her Alistair had a Shout he needed to learn, and maybe she could help. Before Alistair knew it, Madanach had disappeared off for his one to one with Fiona which would be followed by a MageGuard operations meeting and then paperwork for the rest of the afternoon, and all in all, he'd be gone for a while.

Leaving Alistair with one little five year old Dragonborn staring up at him, brimming with excitement. It made a change from her father distracting him with inappropriate suggestions anyway.

"So… becoming ethereal then?" Alistair said nervously. "Does it, er, hurt?"

Maia shook her head and took a deep breath.

"FEIM ZII GRON!"

And Maia promptly flickered out of physical existence, a glowing ethereal figure where a child had been.

"No, it doesn't hurt," Maia said cheerfully. "You feel light as anything and you could float! Except you can't, not really, because you still fall down if you jump off something. But it doesn't hurt when you land! Only I'm not allowed to jump off roofs any more."

What. Just… what? You could jump off roofs with this and not die?

That was terrifying.

And amazing.

Although if Maia could not take a leap off the Chantry roof while he was the adult in charge, he'd really appreciate it.

Maia flickered back into solidity, still smiling and heedless of various mages staring at her in disbelief, including Bethany.

"Did she just go half in, half out of the Fade?" Bethany gasped as she made her way over.

"Yes. No. Sort of. I don't know how it works?" Alistair said, shrugging. "But I'm going to learn how too."

"You're not even a mage," Bethany pointed out.

"No," Alistair purred. "I'm a Dragonborn. Er… apparently."

Bethany just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"The things people come up with… all right, Dragonborn. Let's go somewhere a little more private and see if you can actually do some voice magic. You know, I swear, for an ex-Templar, you aren't half magey."

"Magey?" Alistair asked, and he glanced back at the tent where Bethany was looking pointedly at his collection of runestones, statuettes and assorted glowing shiny trinkets. "Look, I didn't make them!"

"No, but you're drawn to enchanted things like a magpie, Alistair," Bethany sighed. "And you're always asking questions about how spells work. And you're not afraid of it."

"You spend a year camping with Lyra Surana, you get a tolerance for these things!" Alistair protested. "She got me half of that stuff!"

"She didn't give you the voice magic gift though, did she," Bethany pointed out as they followed an excited and chattering Maia through the camp to the outskirts. "Are you sure you're not mage-blooded?"

"No!" Alistair sighed. "Look, mother was a servant, and father was… well, if there were mages in the Theirin dynasty they kept it quiet. No mage blood for me. Just dragon blood apparently."

"That remains to be seen," Bethany said tartly. It seemed she still didn't believe him. Which was a bit sad, but it just made Alistair all the more determined.

Maybe his love life was a disaster. Maybe he'd fallen in love with the wrong woman, and maybe Madanach was make him feel things, weird things, strange and complicated feelings centring on the urge to hold him and fuss over him and then make him do weird and depraved sex things. But he had this voice magic. And he had a little girl who seemed to pick it up like breathing.

Alistair Theirin was going to learn this stuff if it killed him.

A/N: Next chapter, Elisif's back! And everything basically falls apart a bit.