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Chapter 53 – Mildred Remembers
Aidan closed the door behind him quietly, leaning briefly on the cool wood while he attempted to slow the pounding of his heart. Removing a handkerchief from a pocket, he dabbed at his ears, just in case they had begun to bleed. He wasn't about to forget that lecture any time soon. When the door rattled at his back, he stepped hurriedly to the side. Fergus emerged, looking drained of colour and just as harried as Aidan felt. The two brothers exchanged mutual, despondent glances; Aidan handing the handkerchief to his brother who used it to mop his forehead.
The door opened again, Fergus jumping in surprise at the appearance of their father. The Teyrn blinked wide-eyed at his sons. He paused, raising a finger to his lips, half-listening for sounds beyond the closed door. Satisfied all was quiet, the old Teyrn grasped a sleeve in each hand, leading both men away. The trip was a short one; to the Teyrn's study just along the short corridor. He in turn closed the door behind him, once all three men were securely inside. He gestured at his eldest; Fergus obediently heading to the sideboard and the half-full carafe of brandy and waiting tumblers.
Meanwhile, Aidan had thrown himself into a high-backed chair, resting his head in his hands with a loud groan. He found the top of his head rapped by a set of rather bony knuckles. He looked up to find his father's stern, disapproving face staring down at him.
"I wouldn't relax if I were you, Pup," he warned. "You are far from safe in here…"
"Is there anywhere in Thedas where I could be?" Aidan asked, trying to keep the resentment out of his voice. He already knew the answer.
His brother came to his rescue, handing both his father and younger brother a tumbler each. The Teyrn accepted his with a grim smile, raising his share in a brief toast.
"To your mother!" he proposed.
"Mother…" Aidan repeated unenthusiastically.
"To Mummy!" Fergus said at the same time with vigour.
Aidan grimaced at his older brother. "'Mummy'?" he echoed with distaste.
Fergus frowned. "She's always been 'Mummy' to me," he explained. Aidan shrugged, downing the brandy in a single gulp and choking as a result.
"Oh Maker, that's awful…"
"It's the third best we have, Pup," his father explained coolly. "There is a shortage of most essentials in this country, if you haven't noticed."
Aidan slumped, chastened yet again by one of his parents. He could see a lifetime ahead (at least five years or so, if he was lucky) of forced good behaviour…or at least until a grandchild appeared to distract the Teyrna from disciplining her own two children. His gaze inevitably went to his older brother. Yeah, Fergus had better get on with that one…
"Why are you looking at me?" Fergus demanded. Aidan shrugged, contemplating his empty glass. Of of the two of them, his brother was the most promising candidate for continuing the line, especially since after this morning's lecture, it would take him ages before his new-found fear of women would abate and he'd want to go near anything in a skirt…
Twenty, forty-eight hours at least…
Fergus would have less, agreeing to at least meet with his prospective Rivaini bride as soon as possible. Nothing was set in stone yet; the invitations not written, the place settings ordered, or names picked out for their children, but it seemed his brother had resigned himself to making an effort. Considering how his brother's last match had gone, Aidan couldn't forsee any problems. Fergus was innately amenable. Put a pretty girl in front of him, make her smile at him and he was smitten. On the other hand, Morwenna Jones had set a rather high standard, the only thing working against Fergus continuing along that path being the fact that she was actually not particularly interested in him.
The Teyrna of course, adored the woman, admiring her even more for her devotion to her deceased husband.
As for the subject of Alyce…
Aidan reflected on his mother's offer, conceding that it was probably the best option. On the whole, he thought he got off rather lightly, trying not to look at his father and thanking whatever lucky star he had been born under that his mother had been quite happy to handle the situation herself instead of escalating the issue to the Teyrn. It was a bit of a clever strategy, Aidan thought sourly…so their father could remain their 'friend', but Aidan had known both his parents long enough not to be fooled, remembering how the Teyrn had remained a silent observer throughout, ready to step in and put his foot down. He wondered whether his mother already knew that he had been…briefed beforehand…
Probably. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland were not the most powerful nobles in the country for nothing…
A hand appeared before him, holding the near empty carafe. "I'm sure you'll recover in no time," his father told him, emptying the last of the brandy into his tumbler. "Nor will you be the first nobleman's son to be sent to the Free Marches for 'education'."
"Just try not to be too expensive," Fergus quipped, earning himself a reproving look from the Teyrn.
"I intend to send all my chits to you, in any case," Aidan told his older sibling sourly.
"Except that you'll be earning your own way, won't you Pup?" the Teyrn intervened before the two could come to blows. "Honestly and legally."
"Huh," Fergus was undaunted, courtesy of the brandy. "If there is anyone who could make piracy legal, it would be my little brother."
"And fun too…" Aidan responded. "Where would I get those frilly-necked shirts by the way, big brother? I'm sure you would know."
The Teyrn sighed. "Now, boys…" he began.
"How should I know? You're the sartorial expert in this family," Fergus snorted irritably.
"I just thought you'd know, seeing as how much of a gir…"
"Don't make me fetch your mother!" the Teyrn exclaimed, stepping in between the two men. Bryce Cousland rolled his eyes, exasperated. "One would think we were dealing with children and not grown men. Needless to say, I am disappointed. For generations, we Couslands have ruled these lands with temperance and wisdom. It is both our duty and our obligation to ensure that continuity…"
"Sorry, sorry, I think I'm late for an appointment…" Fergus said suddenly at the same time as Aidan sprang to his feet.
"Oh yes, that appointment," Aidan corroborated, bustling his brother towards the door. "You promised you wouldn't be late too." He turned to his father with wide, earnest eyes. "Meeting with very important people."
"Important, yes," Fergus agreed, backing towards the door. "Can't keep important people waiting!"
"No Ser!"
The two men backed out of the room so fast, their feet left a smoking trail on the rug. Bryce Cousland watched the shuddering door a short while, slammed on their exit. He then returned to the sideboard, unlocking one of the lower compartments with a key. Removing a slender bottle, he checked the label before beginning to work at the wax and cork with the very clever device his wife had found for him the last time the two had visited Orlais together. Unstoppered, he poured out not one but two shots.
A few moments later the door opened to the soft rustle of fabric and the familiar scent of Andraste's Grace. Bryce turned, holding out a snifter of finely cut Orzammar crystal.
"Our boys are coming along nicely, don't you think?" he asked his wife.
The Teyrna smiled, "By the speed both were travelling," she said wryly. "I take it you used Cousland Speech number five?"
"The very one," Bryce Cousland replied, raising his glass to toast his wife once more. "I shall be quite sad when either of those two realise we only use it to make them do what we want them to do."
Eleanor laughed softly. "It's lasted long enough. Brother Aldous would have spent all his time lecturing empty air otherwise…" She spotted the opened bottle on the sideboard and crossed the room for a closer look. "I remember this," she said, her expression melancholy. "Part of Oriana's wedding gift was it not?" The Teyrn nodded silently, stepping up and curling an arm around his wife's shoulders. Eleanor Cousland sighed, leaning into her husband's side.
"We are very fortunate both our sons are so…resilient," she murmured. As her youngest had done, Eleanor drained her snifter in one single gulp, though in her case was far too ladylike and the Antivan cognac too fine for her to fall into a fit of inelegant coughing. She instead held out the glass for a refill. "As for the rest…" she began, pausing in thought.
"The rest…?" Bryce prompted.
The smile she managed was somewhat wistful. "We shall see…" she told him.
-oo-
"Right…right…so you'll be alright here?" Alyce asked him for…he had lost count.
"We'll be fine, Amell," Ser Ryan assured her, using the slightly more formal address for emphasis.
"And…why does he keep staring at me? Is there something wrong? Should we fetch a healer?" she said, peering worriedly at Ser Ryan's load.
Ser Ryan sighed. "Morwenna said he appeared healthy and hale and no more unusual than most children his age," he reminded her. "Staring is apparently customary."
"Yes, but he does it in a weird way…look! He just did it again! Did you see? Did you?"
Ser Ryan gave her a look of his own. "Have you not any experience with very young children, Alyce?" he asked, frowning. "You've assisted women in their confinement as I recall."
"That's different," Alyce informed him. "I just yank 'em out and give them to their mothers. It's not like I hang around taking notes afterwards…Now you won't let him eat anything weird, will you?" she asked abruptly.
Ser Ryan covered his face with his free hand. "No, Enchanter. I will not."
"Because he likes to eat furniture, I've noticed," Alyce continued. "That can't be good for him."
"You ate furniture as a young child, I take it?" Ser Ryan asked her. "It explains much."
"You bar..." Realising she had been about to say a word a small child should not hear, Alyce instead waggled a finger threateningly at him. Perched in the crook of Ser Ryan's arm, Greagoir waggled a finger back at her. "Typical," she grumbled. "You men always stick together."
"Your aunt awaits, I'm sure," Ser Ryan reminded her. She made a face at him. Shaking out her skirt, Alyce gave them both one last, warning glare, then turned and marched through the garden towards her aunt's cottage. She resisted the urge to turn back to check to make sure Ser Ryan hadn't dropped Greagoir or fallen into a sinkhole or been attacked suddenly by a gang of rabid ravens because she read somewhere that they ate babies...She was sure that Neria had handed over the god baby to her to make sure he survived at least until childhood, mostly intact. Odds of surviving Neria's wrath if something happened to Greagoir were slim. It would be bad enough when her elf-mage friend found out what he had been named…
Of course, Alyce was actually looking forward to that…And she was in no way concerned for the child because she was getting attached to it. Nope. Not by any means.
"Babies are not cute…babies are not cute…" she muttered darkly under her breath, spotting Serenna a short distance away, waiting for her.
"You look lovely," Serenna commented, opening the door to the cottage and beckoning her inside.
"Oh, this old thing?" Alyce grimaced, thankful to Morwenna for letting her wash up a little before heading over to visit her aunt. Morwenna had even brushed out most of the mud so she could be presentable. Her aunt might not be able to see, but she would still know."It's just…"
"Is that you, Alyce?" her Aunt Mildred's voice demanded sharply from inside. "Why are you dressed so ridiculously? I'm not too sure which is worse;" she complained, "that scant bit of fabric and metal you mistakenly and persistently refer to as a 'robe' or what sounds like the sitting room curtains…"
Alyce chuckled, striding into the room to bestow an affectionate kiss to the top of her aunt's head.
"And was that a…child I heard outside earlier?" Aunt Mildred asked suspiciously.
Alyce focussed on the stained and pitted wall behind her aunt's head, wondering whether she should break the news of her acquisition now or later..."Um…" she flannelled. "Cat…" she said finally. "There was a cat chasing a...and then it went up the tree and…fell…out…and…Yes Aunt Mildred. It was a baby."
"Do I need to ask how, who and why?" Aunt Mildred asked, pronouncing the 'wh' of her 'why' with a very prim puff of air.
"Nope," Alyce replied with no trace of grace whatsoever. "Ya don't."
"It seems the Little Green Satinalia Goose was very generous to you this year…" Aunt Mildred commented. She patted the bed beside her, reserving the right to demand answers later. After Alyce had seated herself, she extended her hand to Serenna. The elf stepped forward, placing a shallow oblong box into her employer's outstretched hands. "And this is merely coincidence," her aunt explained. "Nothing to do with the season. Something your mother wished you to have."
"My mother?" Alyce exclaimed, the box almost dropping between them as she startled midway through accepting it.
"Yes, your mother," Aunt Mildred told her testily. "I would have given it to you earlier, but I don't hold with sending valuable things cross-country and I had the Fade demon of a time trying to find it in any case."
The box was in her hands; an old thing, time-darkened and roughly made as though it had been merely something to use as a vessel; the only thing that had been around at the time, tied together with faded ribbon. Alyce carefully picked out the knot in the ribbon; the original colour preserved in the folds. It had been deep blue once, the same colour as the Forget-me-nots that flowered stubbornly outside the Tower's greenhouses every year. The lid resisted opening briefly, Alyce finding the moment somewhat spoiled by her having to pick at it with her dismally short fingernails. Whatever was inside rattled in a fragile way that warned her it might break if she shook too hard.
And then the lid came free with a soft sigh. Alyce peered inside, surprised to find the inside lined with dried flowers…the Forget-me-nots that the ribbon had reminded her of. The object inside was a strange thing; a carving of some kind of leaf in black wood worked with a silver material. When she tried to pick it up, she found a very sharp, long pin at its base…some kind of hairpin, she wondered?
She wasn't too sure what to say.
She supposed she should think of something, but Alyce had not known her mother. Few had spoken of her, unless it had been in a derogatory way and to insult her oddness as a child.
"Um…" she managed eventually.
"Hmph," her aunt responded. "If I remember correctly, it's some kind of pin, for a cloak or some such thing…" Aunt Mildred explained. "A trifling thing," she added. "The only thing your mother had with her…"
Aunt Mildred exhaled a slow, shuddering breath. "Good woman, your mother," she told Alyce. "Stupidly brave of course, agreeing to be with your father...It was really the only thing I could fault her on. The family never forgave him because apparently there would never have been any question of accepting her..."
"Forgave? What do you mean?" Alyce asked, her confusion causing her to stab her finger again with the cloak pin. "Because of the magic thing?"
Her aunt's smile twisted in bitterness and resentment. "The 'magic thing'," her aunt told her, "was merely the more acceptable complaint. The one they never spoke about was the 'Elf thing'."
"Ouch…" Alyce sucked on her finger. Just to be on the safe side, she returned the pin to its box, leaving it open on her lap. "So the rumours were true then?" she asked quietly. "My mother was an elf? And she died saving my father from Templars…Sacrificing herself so that they wouldn't take him back to the Tower?"
"Bollocks!" Aunt Mildred spat. "What kind of reading material have they been forcing down your throat at that Tower of yours?" she demanded. "I never heard such a ridiculous story…"
Alyce fixed her gaze on the opposite wall. She knew the kinds of 'material' her aunt referred to, but only in passing…and had no idea what they were actually like, having never read one or even glanced at the illustrations or anything…"So erm…" she cleared her throat guiltily. "What really happened?"
"Well, I'd tell you if you didn't keep interrupting me, girl," Aunt Mildred sniffed.
"Yes Aunt Mil…"
"You're doing it again."
Alyce fell obediently silent, clasping her hands demurely in her lap. Her aunt sighed. "I suppose I'm at fault here," she said. "It was simply easier in my head to tell you what I wanted you to know. We Amells have an uncanny ability to survive by not telling the truth; or embroidering the facts so much the frill disguises the ugly pattern beneath…"
In her lap, Alyce's hands clenched impatiently, wishing her aunt would just get it over with and tell her she was some kind of dirty, illegitimate creature or something her parents found by the roadside or…Her knee began to jiggle of its own accord, finding her aunt's hand reaching out to give her leg a stinging slap.
"Of course never let it be said that an Amell lie has never come back to bite us in a place the sun never sees…" Aunt Mildred added, chuckling evilly. "Stupid people…Your mother was respectable, unlike our family…so many demmed skeletons in our closet, you'd think we had our own personal, family ossuary, which of course, we do…Pah, just because we're of noble stock, we're expected to be snooty…And your father…" Aunt Mildred rolled her whitened eyes, throwing up her hands. "I loved my brother; good heart he had but a looser screw I'll never meet again. You take after him in that, girl, apart from his looks." She shook his head. "It's the jaw. You could crack a nut on it and he'd never flinch."
What followed was a hearty stream of cackling, ending abruptly when Aunt Mildred realised her niece was not laughing. Instead, Alyce's other knee began to jiggle, earning her another slap.
"Long and short of it, we Ferelden Amells stayed out of family politics for the most part, not being too close to the succession. Plenty of spares in Kirkwall for that." Her aunt gave rather derogatory sniff, silently voicing her opinion on the subject of there being far too many of her family to disdain. "Spares enough to sacrifice one of their own, just for showing the signs…" Her aunt patted Alyce's knee. "That's a story for another day. Don't think I have enough patience right now to tell that one…No, the family didn't like my brother's choice of bride, though I never had a problem with it. The only time Revvy showed any sense was in choosing your mother."
"But I thought my father was a Circle mage…" Alyce said, frowning. "Where did the magic come from…?"
"You interrupting me again?"
"You paused!" Alyce protested.
"I was inhaling. Since when have I not been able to breathe, girl?"
"Was he or wasn't he?" Alyce demanded.
"Bah. Impatient youth…" her aunt complained. "But yes, he was…Only quite late in life. It's one of the reasons why we stayed here and not amongst those other Amells. Well that and the fun we had popping Orlesian heads back in the day…" Her aunt cackled again. "Your mother was no slouch with those fireballs either, tell you what…" Her aunt paused deliberately, waiting for this slip of information to sink in and waiting for the reaction.
When it came, it was disappointing.
"Guh…?" Alyce hiccupped.
Aunt Mildred turned to Alyce, her expression unimpressed. "That the best you can do?"
"Guh…" Alyce repeated. "Hang on," she added, Ser Ryan's words coming back to her. "All children of mages belong to the Chantry," she recited. "How did they get away with…" And then she realised how she came to be here and why neither parent was alive to tell her this story themselves. "They fled the Circle, didn't they?" she asked quietly.
"Aye, child," Mildred admitted. "My brother and your mother managed to stay hidden long enough for you to be born and delivered to me for safekeeping." She gave a snort full of derision and bitterness. "The Circle was polite enough to inform me of my brother's death in writing…Though they never bothered to let the Alienage and your mother's family know…And you would have been safe if that tart from the Greenfell Arms hadn't blabbered…I promised Revin I'd keep you safe. Promised them both. I'll always feel sorry for failing you child…"
Alyce sighed. "Except you didn't fail me, Aunt Mildred," she told her aunt, poking the elderly woman in the side reassuringly. "I learned some pretty useful things at the Tower. Food was terrible of course, but there's no such thing as a perfect life, as you used to tell me."
"Pah…" Her aunt waved a hand at her, the air of grief dissipating. "Don't tell me you enjoyed yourself."
Alyce thought of Neria and Niall and Senior Enchanter Torrin. She even thought about Jowan; his attempt to flee with that initiate seeming not so awful now…And there was Dagna and so many others. If she had remained here, with her aunt, would she have been as useful during the Blight? Or would she have perished along with so many others? She might never have met any of these people; never had the option to freeze first and ask questions later and there was nothing more enjoyable than burning an ogre to cinders…or having the authority to mock mages because you were better at paralysis glyphs than they were…
"It's been…interesting…" Alyce told her aunt, because she didn't think Aunt Mildred needed to know about Uldred or the Abom-Wynne-ation or what she'd been doing since her Harrowing...
"It'll get more interesting if you end up with that Templar outside…" her aunt told her. Alyce dropped her head into her hands. Why does everyone keep saying that…? Maybe she should copy notices and nail them to every tree in Ferelden, so the rest of the country could comment on her non-existent romance with an ex-Templar…soon to be Knight Commander…? It was quite possible that there were cows in an obscure barn somewhere in the Frostbacks that didn't know or have a chance to voice their opinion. She'd hate for anyone to miss out…
"Though I've been enjoying his company…" Her aunt said suddenly.
"Company?" Alyce blinked.
"Good with his hands, that one," her aunt smirked. Actually smirked…"Nice voice too," she added, "for someone that keeps forgetting his skirt…"
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