Chapter 88

Aedan sat amongst the dogs, reading the letter that had come for him from Amaranthine. It was a reply to the one he'd sent some time ago, and the contents reinforced his beliefs. He'd read it a few times, trying to see if all the facts and dates fit, and he was forced to conclude that they did.

It was a curious little riddle, and he felt slightly stupid for not having solved it sooner. As the mabaris started sniffing his ankles, he put the letter in his pocket, picked up a stick and threw it as far as he could. The hounds chewed through and snapped regular twigs, so Aedan had borrowed a few discarded singlesticks from the armoury. The quartermaster had been happy to part with them, and anything less sturdy wouldn't survive.

"You're the Hero of Ferelden."

Aedan turned back to find a boy of about ten, standing a few feet away on the other side of the fence, watching him curiously. He was dressed well, like some heir to nobility. The boy hadn't asked a question, but made a statement. He knew.

"And who might you be?" Aedan asked. "The latest member of the Inquisition?"

"My mother wouldn't let me. I wanted to."

Refugees from all over had come and settled at Skyhold. It wasn't hard to imagine this boy coming here with his family. "You're here with you mother?"

"Yes. Do you have a mother?"

"I used to."

"Did she know you were a hero? Didn't she make you study instead?"

"Who says I'm a hero at all?"

"Mother does. Mother told me many stories about the Hero of Ferelden. Are you him? You don't have the same blood as he did."

Aedan stared at the boy for a long while. Could he sense the Taint? Some mages could do that. Perhaps the boy was a mage?

"What's your name, lad?"

"Kieran."

"Well met, Kieran. I'm Aedan." He patted the grass beside him. "Come, sit."

The boy didn't. He was staring intently at the pile of singlesticks that lay beside Aedan.

"Are those wooden swords?" he asked.

"No. These are singlesticks. They weigh about the same as a sword and are used as training weapons to learn fencing." Aedan smiled. "You like swords?"

Kieran nodded. "I do. But Mother tells me that swords are for brutes. I always wanted to learn."

Aedan snorted. His own mother had had very different thoughts on the matter. "I could show you some things. If you like."

"You would?" The boy's excitement was rather amusing, but he immediately sobered. "What if Mother finds out?"

"I won't tell her if you don't."

That clinched it. Conspiratorial talks always seemed to work with children. The fact that 'Mother won't find out' was a powerful source of motivation. It had certainly been the case for him and Fergus.

Taking a couple of singlesticks, Aedan hopped over the fence to join his newest student. The lad was eager, and came running up to him. The look of pure joy on the boy's face as he held the stick was something Aedan had not seen in many years. He'd forgotten just how much little things meant to one when young.

"Okay, let's first work on your stance. Are you right-handed or left-handed?"

"Right."

"Okay. Then hold one end of the stick in your right hand. See how the stick is oval? Those will be your edges. Now, put your lead leg-"

"My what?"

"Sorry. Put your right leg forward. Point your toes at that fencepost. That fencepost will be your target. Think of it as an evil fencepost that has stolen your mother's sweetroll and you must duel it to get it back."

The boy giggled. "Okay."

"Now, I want you to turn." He placed a hand each on Kieran's chest and back and turned him so that he stood presenting his shoulder and side to the post. "D'you know why we stand like this?"

"No."

"If you stand straight and face your opponent, they can hit you all over, right?" Aedan stood at attention to demonstrate. "See? if you stand like this, you present a bigger target. Chest, stomach, it's all exposed. Too much for you to defend. But if you turn-" He mimicked Kieran's pose, "-the target gets smaller. Just your side. Much more manageable."

"That's very clever."

"Right? Now, I want you to point the toes of your left leg to the side at an angle of forty-five."

"Like this?" The boy did it perfectly and looked up at him. Aedan smiled.

"Good. Exactly like that. now, I want you to bend your knees slightly. Not too much... there."

"Why do we bend our knees?"

"For balance, movement and power generation. If you stand like this," Aedan locked his knees in place, "and someone pushes you, you're more likely to tumble backwards. If I lower my stance a little," He bent his knees now, "that becomes much harder. Better balance."

"Oh, I see!"

"Also, it helps to keep your balance while moving around, but that's for another time. Right. Now lift your sword arm."

Kieran did so. Aedan nodded.

"Now, it's essential to keep your free hand out of harm's way. You wouldn't want to hit it while you're swinging, would you?"

"No."

"Good. So, we put our free hand flat against our chest, behind our back, or on our hip. Whichever works for you."

Kieran put his left hand behind his back and looked up at him. Again, Aedan smiled.

"Well done. Now comes the hard part. Actually swinging your sword. Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes!"

Aedan liked this boy. "Okay. The first thing you need to know about swords is that they use this muscle." He held out his right hand, turned it so that his knuckles were facing his left, and tapped the bulge of muscle directly below the fold of the elbow. "It's among the weakest muscles in the arm, and this will control mostly everything you do with a sword."

The boy was listening intently, nodding along. Aedan went on, "Being weak, you'll have to strengthen it slowly with exercise. To begin with, flick your stick out backwards and forwards, but only use your wrist. Flick it out and bring it back."

Kieran did so. After about twenty times, he looked over at Aedan, face scrunched up. "It's starting to hurt."

Aedan nodded. "It will. Slow down the movement when it does to gain some energy. Do a set of ten, then take a rest for ten seconds, and then do another. So on and so forth."

"Okay." The boy was determined. He was bent on getting that damn sweetroll back.

"Take care that you keep your wrist straight as you keep waffling the stick," Aedan advised, holding Kieran's wrist and moving the boy's fist with his other hand to demonstrate. "Make sure you're hitting with the edge. If your alignment is off, you'll end up slapping them with the flat. You wouldn't want that."

"It would be funny."

Aedan snorted. "Yes. It would be. But it won't get your sweetroll back."

"That would not be fun."

"Exactly. Now the side that is to your chest is called the inside. The side to your back is called the outside. Okay?"

"Inside and outside. Okay."

Aedan stood up, hands on hips, and nodded. "Well, that should be enough for the first lesson?"

"That's it?"

"Yup. Just keep at it if you want to get better. Forty sets of ten waffles every day for the first two weeks. Your forearm will hurt like hell, though."

"I'll keep doing it." The boy nodded seriously. "If I do, will you show me more?"

He had to laugh at that. "Sure, lad. Sure."

Kieran opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a strikingly familiar female voice. It almost made Aedan's heart leap out of his mouth.

"Kieran," called Morrigan as she slowly walked up to them. "Are you bothering the Hero of Ferelden?"

"No," the boy insisted. "He was teaching me the sword, Mother. Did you see?"

"I did see." Morrigan smiled at the boy affectionately and placed her hand on his head, ruffling his hair. "But 'tis time to return to your studies, little man."

The boy sighed and shook his head, clearly not wanting to. Morrigan, however, gestured with her hand and the boy's shoulders drooped.

The burden of academia. Aedan knew it well. He said, "Studies are important. You should go."

Kieran looked up at him pleadingly. "Can I keep this?"

He held up the singlestick. Aedan nodded.

"It's yours. Take care of it."

"I shall." The boy smiled at him and nodded. Then he went away towards wherever his quarters were.

Watching him go, Aedan took a long, deep breath before he turned to look at Morrigan. She seemed older, wiser, and a tad softer. Other than that, Time hadn't touched her much. Her golden eyes were just as bright as ever, and her choice of clothing hadn't changed either.

"Well, well," he found himself saying. "What have we here?"

He tried very hard to keep all trace of emotion out of his voice. Ten years of practice had made him rather good at it.

Morrigan inclined her head at him. "Aedan."

"Morrigan."

"You seem well."

"So do you." He looked back at the direction in which Kieran had gone. "Is that...?"

"Yes," he heard her reply, voice quiet. "'Tis him."

"He seems... mostly normal."

"Because he is," she replied sharply and gazed at the direction her son had gone as well. "Were you expecting tentacles and fiery breath?"

"I wasn't expecting to meet him at all."

That gave Morrigan pause. He didn't look at her. There was nothing more he had to say on the matter. At one time, he had. A long time ago. Over the years, his anger had weathered away and been replaced by... nothingness. Just another thing that hadn't panned out. Just another disappointment. Just another hole in his armour. There were too many of those to count now. What was one more or less?

"He... is a normal boy," Morrigan said slowly. "A good boy."

"I know," Aedan said without hesitation. "Does he know about the circumstances surrounding his birth?"

"I... I told him his father was a good man." A pause. "I thought you deserved that, at least."

Aedan shook his head. "He has no father, Morrigan. It's changing the nappies when the wife is busy, or listening to a child's prattle after a long day because it's your child's prattle, that makes a father, not getting a girl pregnant. Any fool can do that. It's holding a child who's frightened at night or tossing one in the air to make him giggle. I've done none of that." He turned away towards the fence. "I'm just a stranger with whom he shares some blood. Nothing more."

"Aedan... a moment."

He stopped, placed his hands on the top post of the fence and waited.

"I was... observing the interaction and Kieran seemed to be... enjoying himself while he was with you."

"I think he was."

"If it is not too much to ask, could you continue his instruction?"

Aedan looked back over his shoulder. "Why?"

"'Twould make him happy," Morrigan said simply.

He considered this. The Morrigan he knew ten years ago wouldn't have allowed this. As a matter of fact, she hadn't. Now, as a mother, her child meant more to her. For the first time, she cared about something more than herself or her plans or her secrets. That too, without fear. She had grown.

"I meant, why now?" he asked. "Why after all this time?"

She crossed her hands over her chest. "He needs a positive, male role model."

"Like the Hero of Ferelden."

"Yes."

"The reality is far from the stories you've fed him, Morrigan. There is nothing positive about what happened ten years ago."

"I am aware. But he needs someone to aspire to be. Someone he can relate to. He is at that age now... and I am ill-equipped to be all he needs me to be."

Aedan let his head sink and sighed out of his nose. That was a hard thing for many to admit. More so for her. "You're fine with it?"

"As long as it doesn't interfere with his studies."

"He's changed you."

Morrigan scoffed. "Don't be absurd."

"All right." He straightened and hopped back over the fence and started gathering up all the singlesticks. The mabaris all came up to him and started nudging his legs with their heads and whining. "I'll do it."

"Out of curiosity, where is... Lucien?" Morrigan asked, observing the dogs. "I do not see him in the pack."

"He got taint poisoning. I put him down," Aedan answered quickly and started walking back to the quartermaster, rubbing his empty ring finger absently. "Tell Kieran to show up here tomorrow. Same time."