"Though all before me is shadow,
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."
—Canticle of Trials 1:14
Chapter 54
Alistair
"It could have been part of the assassination plot on Riordan, you know," Fergus said to the king as he paced in the teyrn's study. Riordan and the other Grey Wardens had left for Vigil's Keep the day before.
Alistair halted and faced Fergus, an inquiring eyebrow raised. "What assassination plot on Riordan? No one told me there was an assassination plot on Riordan." His brows came down as he frowned. "And why would anyone want to kill Riordan, anyway? If you aren't a darkspawn, he's one of the nicest, most fair people I know. Well, a bit of a sneaky bastard at times, but that's easy to overlook, usually."
Fergus dropped the paper he'd been holding onto the desktop and sat back. "He's also Orlesian. Or sounds like an Orlesian, and to most people, that's the part that matters. Aside from that, there are still banns within the arling's territory who were very loyal to Rendon Howe. I suspect they also took offense at the Wardens being given the arling." He sighed. "We should really look into restructuring everything at the next Landsmeet. Malcolm had some really good ideas about what to do, we can ask him when he... right. Back to the assassination plot. There were rumors about it at the fealty ceremony. Riordan hasn't much been interested in determining the veracity of the rumors. Malcolm's disappearance might have been opportunistic, kil—taking the prince instead of the Warden Commander because Malcolm was there."
"It's a possibility," said Eamon from his chair by the fire. He looked more haggard now than he'd been while Alistair was in Drake's Fall with the Wardens. Alistair had been surprised to find how disturbed Eamon was by the recent developments. He'd honestly believed there was nothing but bad blood between his brother and the arl, but now it appeared differently. And he doubted Eamon was acting the part, since the weariness settled around the man's eyes wasn't something that could be faked. Or, he could just be getting more tired at having to remain in his job as chancellor as one crisis so quickly followed another. "It's also a possibility that the boy simply left."
And there was the bad blood. Alistair stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Eamon, he didn't take anything with him or leave a note. If you'll remember, last time he took his pack and was polite enough to leave us a letter."
"He also had a mabari with him. It's a bit difficult to abduct or kill someone who has a loyal wardog at his side." Eamon squinted in thought. "You know, you might consider trying to have one imprint on you, your Majesty. It makes sense for the King of Ferelden to have a mabari, in addition to the fact that one would make a good bodyguard."
"Not if Malcolm is dead, it wouldn't," Fergus said.
"Which gives more credence to the idea that he left voluntarily." Eamon sighed. "I know that you both want to think better of him. You both think he's grown up in the past months from the boy he was at the beginning of the Blight, or even who he was when he left for Weisshaupt. But we can't make ourselves blind to the possibility that he hasn't grown up nearly as much as you had thought." The fact that Eamon didn't say 'we' in regards to thinking Malcolm had matured didn't escape Alistair's notice.
"If he left voluntarily, then he has to have had a very good reason," said Fergus. "Not that I particularly care what reason that is, because if—when—he comes back, I think I'm going to kill him myself, just to make sure that he doesn't do it again."
"Líadan will kill you if she doesn't get first crack at him," Alistair pointed out.
Eamon cleared his throat.
Fergus glared at the arl. "Oh, give it up, will you? Seriously. Sure, Malcolm is the king's brother, but he isn't the one you need to pester about getting married and having heirs." He shot Alistair a sympathetic glance, and then turned back to Eamon. "Let him live his life. Mother and Father were content to let him do that, and I think we should be, too."
"Circumstances are different now. Cailan is dead," Eamon said, a wince of sadness passing through his eyes as he admitted aloud again that his nephew had died. "Yes, we have a Theirin king and a brother as a Theirin prince, but both of them are Grey Wardens. Both of them stand a slim chance of having children, and from what Alistair told me, the longer they've been Wardens, the more slim their chances of fathering children becomes. If a clear heir for succession isn't secured, when we lose them there will be civil war over who becomes the next monarch. So having both of them properly married and attempting to have children would raise the chances of a Theirin heir to slightly more than slim." He glanced pointedly between Fergus and Alistair. "But letting that boy continue whatever it is he's doing with that elf is—"
"That elf? Really?" Alistair rounded on Eamon. "Did I really just hear you say that? Unless you forget, our mother is an elf. Best you remember that before you refer to Líadan, or anyone, like that. Have you forgotten exactly how much she's done for Ferelden or did that whole Blight and fighting the archdemon thing somehow slip your mind? She deserves better than that from you."
The arl shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Of course I haven't forgotten. If Malcolm wasn't a prince, I honestly wouldn't care about in whom he took interest. But the reality is that he is a prince and she is not only an elf, but a Dalish elf. We cannot have him making the same mistakes as his father."
This time, Alistair did roll his eyes. "Yes, well, one of Maric's two 'mistakes' is the current King of Ferelden, as you mentioned earlier. So maybe what mistakes he made weren't so bad after all. Besides, if the two of them ever... got together, as it were, you wouldn't have to worry about any mistakes like Malcolm or me. One Warden makes having a child difficult. Two? Nearly impossible. You wouldn't have to worry about any more elf-blooded bastards."
Eamon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think the Bannorn would be fine even with bastards as this point, given that they were clearly Theirins and entirely human."
"Elf-blooded is human," said Alistair.
"You know what I meant."
"So basically what you're saying is that you're fine with Malcolm not being married and becoming involved with someone, as long as the woman was human?" A strange double-standard, it seemed. Or maybe not so much, as Malcolm wasn't stuck being king like he was.
"And preferably not a mage. I'm not saying I would be happy about it. I would prefer that he marry because it makes legitimization a non-factor. At this point, however, we cannot be as picky as we used to be. There need to be more Theirins, and as of right now, the two of you are it."
"It could be one Theirin right now and we wouldn't even know it," said Fergus, sounding testy instead of his easygoing self. "How about we concentrate on what happened to him and argue about succession later?" When both Eamon and Alistair fell silent, Fergus nodded. "Excellent. We should send someone down to Highever to do some questioning around the harbor. If he left, either voluntarily or involuntarily, it might not have been by land. Malcolm and Alistair are fairly recognizable, so someone might have seen him. I don't like the idea any better than you do, Alistair, that Malcolm might have left of his own volition, but Eamon is right. We can't ignore the possibility in the hope that he hasn't. In fact, I might as well be the one to go down to the harbor since I know who to talk to."
"I'd like to go with you," said Alistair. "I don't have to say anything and I can wear my hood up or something. I already can't be on any of the search teams, but I want to do something other than wait around here for any news and chat about really unpleasant possibilities."
For a moment, it seemed like Fergus was going to object, and then Alistair caught the understanding in the teyrn's eyes, and he nodded instead. Eamon frowned, but said nothing out loud of his obvious objections. Alistair was happy enough to leave the arl behind and stewing in his own machinations. His insistence at interfering with Malcolm and whoever he chose to be involved with had become irritating even to Alistair. The king figured that people deserved to be happy if they could, and their loved ones should do their best to make that happen. While he did understand the necessity of duty—because if he didn't, he certainly wouldn't be king—the compulsion didn't have to be as strong for Malcolm. One of them, at least, could do some of what they wanted, even though Eamon didn't seem convinced of that. He knew that before the bit with Drake's Fall and everything after, Fergus had started actively looking for a wife. Alistair had asked him about it and Fergus had told him a Cousland always does their duty. Part of that duty, the teyrn had explained, was making sure the line continued. He'd also been sure to point out that he wouldn't marry just anyone and that he wanted to find someone compatible. But he had to at least start to make an effort.
Alistair hadn't even done that. Instead, he'd changed the subject whenever Eamon mentioned it or just plain ignored it. After what had happened with Leliana, he hadn't wanted to contemplate someone else. Yet Fergus did have a point about duty and it seemed especially glaring with Malcolm's disappearance that Ferelden was running rather thin on Theirins. He needed to grow up and take on additional responsibility for his kingdom. If that meant a queen and heirs, he would have to face that fact and go through with it. There was also the matter of needing a new chancellor, since Eamon would be returning to Redcliffe once they determined where Malcolm was, as long as Malcolm wasn't dead. While Alistair might have shut down Eamon more than once when he'd raised the idea of Anora, he hadn't thrown the possibility entirely out of his mind. He and Anora had spoken, even amicably, in the time since the end of the Fifth Blight. The rumors about Cailan's straying ways had been true as well, as he'd had people investigate matters in an attempt to find out if the previous king had left any bastards behind. It would have been nice, actually, if Cailan had done so, and the line of succession would've been easy to establish. But they'd found all of his mistresses, and not a single one of them had had a child by Cailan. While highly unfortunate, it did at least prove that Anora wasn't the one at fault when it came to heirs to the throne.
He sighed and shrugged further into his cloak as he and Fergus walked into the city of Highever. It seemed he would have to start making the necessary arrangements to negotiate something with Anora once they found Malcolm and he was back in Denerim. Fergus gave him a sympathetic look, but said nothing, because they were surrounded by the throngs of people who crowded the streets of the city during the day. He and the teyrn visited every ship captain they could find, asking question after question, but their efforts turned up nothing. Fergus was speaking with the harbormaster inside a small building while Alistair waited outside near the street, when an older woman walked cautiously up to the king.
She peered at him for a moment, and then gave him a warm smile. "You look much like your father," she said.
Alistair gave her an odd look. Since she hadn't used a title when addressing him, he assumed she didn't know he was the king. "Do I know you?"
She patted his arm. "No, we've never met. I knew your grandmother though. Met her when I was just a wee girl. Your younger brother takes more after her than your father, though."
"I..." he trailed off and stared at her for a moment. "So you know I'm the king?"
"Of course I do, dear. But I know enough that you don't wish attention to be called to that, just as I don't wish attention to be called that I'm a hedge mage."
Alistair smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He'd felt the magic in her, but had assumed she was an old Circle mage out on an assignment, sort of like Wynne was. No matter. He'd grown to understand mages enough to know when one presented a true danger, and this woman wasn't one of those. "No need to worry," he replied. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a harmless little old lady. I think you're the one my brother told me about, actually, when he told me about the Tevinters."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "He mentioned me, did he?"
"He was very thankful for the information and was merely relaying that to me. You really have nothing to worry about, I promise."
"Well, he did seem like a nice young man. I'm glad to see that I could trust him as I did. I'm not sure what he's up to now, though. I saw him the other night getting—"
Alistair's hands came up and lightly gripped the woman's narrow shoulders. "What? You saw him the other night? Here?" She blinked, taken aback, and Alistair carefully removed his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just that he's missing." He chucked a thumb in the direction of the harbormaster's office. "That's who Fergus and I are looking for. We weren't sure if he was taken or just left on his own. Please, tell me everything you remember."
She nodded slowly and brushed off her sleeves. "Well, I thought I'd seen his face, but he was wearing a hood like you are now, and his posture was atrocious. Very different from the last time he'd been through Highever, and that caught my attention. I wasn't quite sure it was him until I recognized the mabari walking next to him."
The king allowed himself to feel some hope that Malcolm was still alive at hearing that Gunnar had also been alive. Of course, that meant that his brother might have left voluntarily and he'd have to kill him, but still. It was hope. "Was it just him and his dog?"
"No." The woman frowned. "There was a woman with him, but not that charming Dalish elf he was with last time."
Alistair tried to wrap his mind around Líadan being described as charming, but gave up quickly. "Can you describe her at all?"
"Yes. She was wearing a cloak and I remembering seeing a Grey Warden griffon on it. She had ash-blonde hair tied into a tight bun—tight enough where I wondered to myself if she got headaches from it. And she had the most icy blue, cold, determined pair of eyes I've ever seen."
Alistair's eyes widened. "Astrid."
"You know this woman? I think your brother did, and from his body language, I don't think he approved of her very much."
The comment made the king smile. "No, he isn't much a fan of hers. I know I'm not. Did you happen to see where they went?"
The woman nodded and gave him the name of the ship they'd boarded. Alistair thanked her profusely, gave her several sovereigns, and promised yet again not to report her to the Chantry before sending her on her way. Then he bounded into the harbormaster's office, interrupting the conversation between the man and Fergus.
The harbormaster paled when he recognized Alistair, and immediately dropped to a knee. "Your Majesty."
Alistair waved him off. "Up, up, on your feet. We haven't time for that." As the harbormaster stood, the king turned to Fergus. "Interesting people you've got in this city, I must say. So I got some information, and I can't tell you who I got it from but I promise it's a reliable source." His look returned to the harbormaster. "Can you tell me where the ship called the Treviso was going?"
"The Antivan merchant ship? Sure. She was headed to Cumberland, and then to Val Royeaux before returning to Antiva City." The harbormaster's thin lips pressed into a frown. "Is that the ship you think the prince is on?"
"Almost certain. Well, thank you for your help." He dashed from the office, and then skidded to a stop, realizing he still had no idea what to do next. If his brother and Astrid had gone to Cumberland, they could be pretty much anywhere by now. Though he assumed they would be remaining on the ship and continuing on to Val Royeaux to see the Divine if that was Astrid's intention. He didn't think Malcolm would go voluntarily, not after everything they'd been through to prove he wasn't a mage. Somehow, that damned woman had coerced him with enough force that he'd left without saying a word to anyone.
"Your manners," said Fergus, stepping out of the harbormaster's shack and closing the door behind him, "are appalling."
"Raised by dogs, remember?" Alistair replied, offering a grin.
"Apparently so." Fergus' gaze turned to look at the ocean beyond the harbor. Dark clouds hung ominously low over the water and the sight made the teyrn frown. "That storm is going to hit tonight. I hope the ship Malcolm was on was in port when the storm crossed over the Waking Sea. Looks to be fairly powerful. I certainly wouldn't want to be on the open ocean when it hit. Depending on the speed, they could have made it to Val Royeaux by now, perhaps even halfway to Antiva if they didn't have a lot to do in Cumberland."
"How bad would it be to get caught in that storm on the ocean?"
Fergus didn't turn around. "Bad."
"I hate that kind of answer. It sounds like the 'people could die' kind of bad."
"Pretty much." The teyrn sighed, and then turned around. "We should get back to the castle and arrange to send people to Val Royeaux and Cumberland. And if Malcolm was with a Grey Warden, Riordan is definitely going to want to know, and will probably want to send people of his own." He chuckled a little as they started walking out of the city. "I'd put coin on Líadan informing Riordan that she would be going whether he assigned her to or not. I daresay if he tried to tell her she wouldn't be going, she'd hit him."
"With lightning, I imagine." Alistair felt the grin forming even through his worry about his brother.
"If he should be so lucky. You weren't the one who witnessed the look she gave Riordan when he stepped in between her and Fiona when they were arguing about going to Kal'Hirol. I'm surprised that Riordan wasn't incinerated on the spot, because I wasn't anywhere near him and I think I got slightly charred. Maker's breath, how Malcolm ends up entangled with these women with the most frightening of tempers and abilities to painfully back them up, I'll never know."
Alistair rubbed at the scruff on his chin like was in deep thought. "Maybe it's the thrill? Sort of like facing down a dragon and living to tell the tale?"
Fergus shrugged. "Beats me. All I know is that I'd prefer safer options. Not so prickly or able to set me on fire if they so choose."
"Not sure I can say the same. The only woman I've ever been with probably could've killed me in about twenty different ways using just a hairpin or something. To be honest, she scared me sometimes. And when I told her that, she just got this adorable, yet entirely creepy smile." Alistair realized that when he'd just spoken about Leliana, he hadn't felt the pain he'd always felt before. He missed her, yes, and always would, but it felt somehow good to remember her now.
"My wife was Antivan," Fergus said quietly from beside him. "I believe I know what sort of smile you're talking about."
There was no reply Alistair could think of for that, so he remained quiet. The two men walked back to the castle in companionable silence, wrapped in warm memories of the women they had once loved. After they met with Eamon, soldiers and messengers were sent out to catch ships from Highever to both Cumberland and Val Royeaux to look for Malcolm. Another messenger was sent to the Vigil to notify Riordan. The storm Fergus had predicted struck that night. Howling winds drove a hard, cold rain onto anyone who dared step outside. Since they'd gotten the lead about Malcolm's whereabouts, the search parties had been called back into the keep and restored to their usual duties. As the storm raged, Alistair found himself glancing more and more often in the direction of the ocean, wondering if Malcolm would die in the same way as their father had—lost at sea.
Riordan arrived from the Vigil on the heels of the freshly-returned messenger and the last vestiges of the storm. "So you're saying," he said as he paced in front of the fire, "that a renegade Weisshaupt Warden came to Ferelden and pretty much abducted one of my Wardens?"
"We aren't entirely sure exactly what happened. This woman..." Fergus trailed off and looked over at Alistair. "Who was it that gave you this information?"
The king glanced up from the book he'd contemplated reading, and perhaps looked like he was reading, but hadn't read a word of yet. "Hm? What?"
Fergus sighed. "Who was it you talked to in Highever?"
"A harmless little old lady," Alistair replied, replacing the book on the shelf next to his chair. Then he glanced over at the mage in the room. "Not like Wynne, who isn't harmless."
She arched an eyebrow.
"Or little," he said.
"Alistair!"
He grinned at her. "Or old. Though I don't think it's fair you get to scold me about saying you're old. You say it all the time. I'm merely repeating what you say."
"One of my Wardens being kidnapped," said Riordan. Somehow the man managed to glare at him without looking away from where he warmed his hands by the fire. Alistair wished he could figure out how. He was sure that trick would come in handy with the Landsmeet.
"Right. As I was saying, it was a charming, adorable little old lady who reminded me of Wynne, except for the old, who apparently had once known Queen Moira or something. She had run into Malcolm and the other Wardens when they came into Highever from Amaranthine and she remembered him from then. So when she saw him in Highever again with Gunnar, she took note of it." Alistair then explained everything the woman had said, which, in the end, wasn't much. "The harbormaster gave us the rest," Alistair finished saying. "Told us the ship and where it was headed. Now we just wait to hear back from the people we sent out, I guess. As much as I'd like to, I can't really march on the Grand Cathedral and the Divine and demand my brother back if that's where they've gone. One reason is that we haven't gotten much of an army built yet. Another reason is that she would definitely call an Exalted March on us. I'd like to avoid that, if at all possible, if you please."
"Understandably," said Eamon.
"I'll send a message to the First Warden." Riordan turned and faced the others in the room. "He can send out Wardens from Weisshaupt to go looking for them since he has more than enough Wardens at his disposal. We just don't have the numbers here to go looking for them ourselves, as much as I would like to. There—"
A sharp knock on the door cut him off. "Come in," said Fergus.
The door opened to admit a harried guard who kept glancing nervously behind him. "I'm sorry, your Grace, but we've riders just come in from the Vigil. They insist—"
"Riders?" came Líadan's outraged voice. "We've been demoted to riders? Do you even have to take an oath for that? I bet there isn't a ceremony, either." The Dalish elf appeared in the doorway, her cloaked soaked through and hair plastered to her head, making the pointedness of her ears stand out. She brushed past the servant with a sharply annoyed look and made a beeline for the fireplace. Riordan wisely stepped out of the way.
The guard tried to continue his announcement. "One of the—"
"Grey Wardens," Líadan said for the guard as she paused in her warming long enough to shrug off her pack and lean it against a wall.
The guard nodded a thank you to her even though she couldn't see him, and then returned his gaze to Fergus. "Grey Wardens, your Grace. The other should be up shortly."
"I'm right here," said Fiona, looking quite dry compared to Líadan, and slightly less cranky. At least Alistair thought so. It was hard to tell with her, sometimes. With Líadan, they had the advantage of it always being very clear when she was angry. With Fiona, not so much. She walked into the room and deposited her pack near Fergus' desk. Alistair looked from Fiona to Líadan, trying to figure out why the younger elf was practically soaked to the bone while Fiona looked like she'd gone through nothing but a light mist. The question must've shown on his face because she looked from Alistair to flick a slight glare in Líadan's direction. "She wouldn't use an an arcane shield on the way here."
Alistair didn't have to see Líadan roll her eyes to know she'd done exactly that as she continued to press so close to the fire that he was almost convinced she was going to jump into it. "That's because I'm not a great mage like you other mages and it was all I could do to stay on the horse and awake," she said.
"I think you underestimate your abilities," Fiona replied.
"I agree," said Wynne.
Líadan muttered something under her breath that made Riordan snort in laughter. Alistair started to ask what she'd said when he felt something from Fiona that he hadn't sensed in her before. He shot a questioning look at her, the question on the tip of his tongue.
"Yes, I am," she said before he could ask.
"By the way, Riordan," said Líadan, "Fiona got herself tainted again in the Deep Roads. Apparently it isn't a big deal since she's been through it before. I don't agree, but what do I know?"
Riordan frowned at Líadan, and then looked over at Fiona, who was making herself comfortable in one of the free chairs by Wynne. "How?"
"New kind of darkspawn," she said. "I think we managed to kill the source, though, so we probably don't need to worry about them. We also killed three broodmothers in addition to the Mother. Who, by the way, had already sent one of her generals off with parties to hunt down the Architect some time ago. So I suspect he'll be nicely occupied for quite some time."
"New kind of darkspawn?" Riordan asked.
"Abominations even to the darkspawn," said Líadan. "A group of normal darkspawn even called them that before we kindly killed them all. They are... pretty much indescribable. Suffice to say that I'd way rather face another dragon than any of those things again. Everyone else is still at the Vigil recovering. The Mother is dead. We found some strange old messages about the ancient elves possibly hiding out with the dwarves a long time ago, which means a trip to Orzammar in the near future. Oh, and, Fiona is tainted."
"Aren't all Grey Wardens tainted?" asked Fergus.
Líadan shot a glare over her shoulder at Fiona. "Well, now they all are."
Fiona rolled her eyes. "It's no big deal. I brought things to do a Joining. I'll go through that and—" She looked over at Fergus and Eamon.
"They know," said Riordan.
She nodded. "All right. I was saying, another Joining, and another thirty years. Perhaps less, I suspect, considering my age. But certainly longer than few weeks or so I'd have left if I did nothing. And they would be quite painful days towards the end, as well. I'll do the Joining tonight and we can be on our way back to searching in the morning."
Alistair didn't think he'd heard anyone talk about the Joining in such a relaxed way. It almost made him reassured that everything would be fine. "Oh, about that. We don't need any local search parties anymore because we got a lead in Highever. This little old lady told us that she saw Malcolm boarding a ship in the port with someone who matches Astrid's description. So he's either in Cumberland or Val Royeaux at the moment."
Riordan moved away from Líadan to sit on one of the free chairs. "We're assuming Val Royeaux. Specifically, at the Grand Cathedral with the Divine."
"So tomorrow morning we leave on a ship to Val Royeaux," said Líadan.
Fergus looked expectantly at Alistair. "Pay up."
"Oh, come on. We didn't actually bet. Did we? No. No, we did not. There wasn't even an amount mentioned. You just mumbled something about coin and Líadan telling Riordan exactly what she was going to do whether he cared for her to or not. No bets were made. Nice try."
"You two..." Líadan glared at each of them. "You are... you know what? There aren't even any words."
"Yes there are," said Fergus. "You could just admit that we were right."
Riordan sighed and ignored Líadan's frustration to look at Fiona. "I assume you brought what you needed for a Joining?"
She nodded and stood up. "I'll go prepare it now." Then she glanced at Fergus. "May I use the chapel again?"
"Of course. I'll bring you down and tell you what's been happening up here while you were in the Deep Roads." Fergus rose from his chair, and after Fiona grabbed the pack she brought, the two of them left the room.
"You know," Alistair said slowly to Líadan, "Oghren would say that you look like a drowned nug."
"I can do to you what I'd do to Oghren if he were to say that," she replied.
"You should really go take a hot bath and put on some dry clothing," said Wynne.
"I'm—" Líadan started saying, but stopped as she took another look at her hands, which were still pale from cold. "Okay, that actually sounds like a good idea." Then she looked over at Riordan. "And don't let Fiona do the Joining without me there."
He gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement. "I wouldn't dare dream of it."
After she took her pack and left, Alistair said, "You've got to admit, things are much more exciting when she's around. It hasn't been this lively around here in days!"
"Fiona or Líadan?" asked Wynne.
"Either one, now that you mention it." Alistair rose from his chair, feeling too much nervous energy to stay still.
"Go see if Fiona needs a Warden's help," said Riordan. "I need to go change and find something to eat, and then I'll be down there."
Alistair knew a hint when he heard it. Well, most of the time. He headed for the door and was surprised when Wynne walked with him. She was quiet as they both headed for the small chantry in the castle. When they got to the doors, she wordlessly cast a ward of silence, and then headed in the direction of the guest wing. After a confused look at her retreating form, he shrugged and walked into the chantry. Fiona had found a table and had several ingredients, all the components of the Joining potion, spread out in front of her. She worked quickly and efficiently as she started to combine them. Alistair once again was surprised to notice how small she was. Even as elves went, Fiona wasn't very tall. Then again, the other female elf he'd spent time with was on the tall side for elves, so he hadn't much for comparison.
"That has to be a new one," he said, "someone concocting their own Joining potion."
Fiona added another ingredient and kept mixing without looking up. "I don't see a need for anyone else to do it while I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself. They have better things to do." She lifted her eyes from her task to look at him. "Speaking of, why are you here, your Majesty?"
Alistair rolled his eyes and settled himself on the pew closest to where Fiona worked. "You're seriously not going to insist on calling me that, are you? First of all, none of the other Wardens do. I'm lucky enough if they even bother calling me by my name instead of anything more colorful. Second of all, we both know that... you... we know... ha, okay, now it's really awkward." He shifted around on the hard, wooden seat. "For me, anyway. Awkward for you, too?"
"Very." But her lips twitched in the hint of a smile before she returned to mixing the potion. "Alistair, there's nothing to worry about with this Joining. I've gone through it before. I've already got partial immunity. It's more a formality than anything. So you don't have to force yourself to talk to me before you're ready."
He took that in for a moment. "Before I'm ready or before you're ready?"
Her lips twitched again, longer this time. "Something like that."
"Oh, you're tricky. I see." This time she had a true smile, even though she kept her gaze on the chalice and the ingredients. Alistair didn't mind, because now that he found himself with the first real chance he had to speak with his mother, he couldn't think of what to say. All the questions he would've asked he already knew the answer to because of the discussions he and Malcolm had. He knew she loved both of them, that much had been obvious from the entire fiasco of the Harrowing days ago. Another moment passed as he thought, and then he figured out his question. "Were you ever tempted to come here to Ferelden and take us back?"
Her hand stopped in midair and hovered over the chalice before she slowly looked up and met his eyes. "Every day." She blinked a few times, and then returned to her work with the potion.
He understood, since he or Malcolm would've done the same. Her answer made him warm inside, and at the same time, caused a twinge of pain over what could have been but never was.
She swirled the liquid in the chalice around, and then set it down to say a short incantation over it. A purple aura formed around the chalice for a moment before it faded away. "It's done," she said, and looked up. Then she moved and sat next to him as they waited for the other two Wardens to appear. He suspected that had it been almost anyone else, there would have been a comfortable silence as they waited. But it wasn't in his nature to remain quiet for that long, and he chatted about whatever random little things came to mind. She listened to everything he said and smiled the whole time.
When Fiona took the Joining for the second time, Alistair recited the oath and Líadan stood as witness while Riordan offered the chalice. She took it and drank without hesitation or fear.
