"Mum? Mummy?" Wynne went to stand and was brought up short by the manacles.
"You manacled her?" Solana questioned Alistair furiously.
"I did not know who she was," Alistair said calmly. "My knights were doing their job."
He bent over the manacles and using a small key, opened them. Wynne pushed past Alistair and threw herself into her mother's arms.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just wanted to see Denerim. I hate it here. I hate it. I want to go home." She buried her face in her mother's neck. Solana wrapped her arms around Wynne and met Alistair's gaze. She kissed the top of her daughter's head.
"We are going home, darling. I promise." She stroked Wynne's hair to calm the storm.
Alistair leaned back on his desk, arms crossed, waiting. Wynne's sobbing abated and she drew back, swiping her hands over her eyes to clear them.
"I want you to meet someone," Solana said gently, using her thumb to brush aside an errant tear on her daughter's cheek. She gestured at Alistair. "This is Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden."
Wynne eyed him warily, before dipping a wobbly curtsey. "Your..Majesty."
"My lady," Alistair placed his hand upon his breast and bowed. "You have your mother's beauty."
"And her aim," Wynne said tartly. "You don't look much like a king."
"No. It has been said." His smile was wry.
"I thought you all dressed in shining armour and carried massive swords." She studied his plain sense of dress with a critical though not entirely disapproving eye.
"It is hard to get work done when one is dressed in thirty kilograms of hammered steel."
"Why did you summon Mother here?" Wynne asked curiously.
Solana shot him a warning glance. Alistair hesitated.
"We were friends. Once," he said finally.
Wynne turned to look at Solana with widened eyes. "You were friends with a King? You never said…"
"I wasn't the King then," Alistair said.
"Then…" Wynne gestured vaguely. Solana felt sorry for the girl, getting a crash course in her mother's past. The questions from this would be difficult to answer.
"I was a Grey Warden," Alistair said quietly, watching his daughter's face.
Wynne laughed. "Don't be silly. Kings can't be Grey Wardens."
Solana brushed her hand over her daughter's head. "No, darling, but Grey Warden's can become Kings."
"How come you were with the Grey Wardens?" Wynne turned her luminous gaze on her mother.
Solana winced. "I…was a Grey Warden."
Wynne laughed again, clearly disbelieving. "This is a joke, right? You aren't a Grey Warden. They travel around fighting demons and dark spawn and have adventures." She watched Solana glance at Alistair, who was regarding Wynne cautiously.
Solana raised her eyes to the ceiling, praying to the Maker for assistance. And her gaze fell upon a painting. She gave a crooked smile, tempered by a shard of sadness.
"You remember Zev, darling?" Solana asked her daughter.
"Of course," Solana enthused. "He taught me…" her voice trailed off as she looked in the direction of her mother's pointing finger. The painting was of her old friend, the handsome, irascible elf who had taught her to shoot a bow through the eye of a needle. Her mouth opened in shock.
"His full name was Zevran Arainai. He was an Antivan Crow. An assassin who joined us for a time."
"I …what?" Wynne frowned. "An assassin?"
"That is Wynne. You were named for her." Solana indicated the white haired woman who smiled calmly at her from the painting. She still mourned the passing of the woman who had provided counsel for so many years. Who had helped when she gave birth to her daughter. "She was a powerful mage. She died soon after you were born."
Wynne glanced at Alistair again, as though seeking confirmation. He remained impassive.
"Sten. He was a Qurnari warrior. Brave and stoic. He became a close ally. Morrigan." Solana glanced at Alistair. "A witch of the wilds. An apostate mage. She and His Majesty never got along."
"To say the least," Alistair muttered drily.
"Leliana. A priestess from the Chantry. Oghren, a dwarf lord of Orzimmar." Solana smiled fondly at those two. She sighed. "And at the end there. Me. These are charming portraits, Alistair."
"A reminder, Solana," he said quietly.
Wynne walked the length of the room to study the painting of what was clearly her mother. She stared up. Her mother was young there. Short white hair, revealing angular features. Wide, amused grey eyes. Pale brown tattoos in an intricate scroll over her brow and cheeks. And she bore not a bow an arrow as she would have thought, but a staff of such beauty she couldn't help but wonder at it and robes of heavily inscribed brown leather and green silk. She was surrounded by an aura that spoke of her power.
Wynne turned to look at her mother. She tried to see the woman before her in the Grey Warden of the painting. Her hair was longer, still that silvery grey. Her eyes had several lines scored around them. Her mother was strong, capable, calm, but she had never once seen her use magic.
"You are a mage?" Wynne's voice was very quiet.
"Yes," Solana said simply.
"But you don't…" Wynne waved her hands.
"Practice? No. Not anymore."
Alistair reached out and touched Solana on the arm. Wynne watched the gesture with narrowed eyes.
"This is …too much." Wynne shook her head.
"Father?" A youthful voice interrupted their conversation, and the lad Wynne had clashed with earlier that day came sauntering in. "Why isn't she in the dungeons?"
Alistair straightened and faced the boy. "Because I am letting her go."
"But she attacked me!"
"And you were a fool, Petyr," Alistair said bluntly. "You were being a bastard to an old man and by all accounts, Wynne Amell was the only one to step forward and defend him."
"Father! That's unfair. You believe a complete stranger over your only son?" The lad's face was reddening with anger.
"I believe the daughter of the Hero of Ferelden, Petyr." Alistair was scowling. "She did not attack you. She wanted to stop you from hurting an old man. I am ashamed of your behaviour."
Solana watched the exchange between father and son. Wynne had reached for her mother's hand and clutched it tightly. She seemed to sense that something fragile hung in the balance here.
"I hate you." Petyr was almost purple with rage. "You drove away mother. I hate you. You don't ever believe me." He stormed from the room.
Alistair leaned wearily back on his desk and pressed his fingertips into his closed eyes. "I think you should go," he said tiredly. "I hope that you will come to see me before you leave, Solana, but I understand if you do not."
Solana kissed Wynne on the temple. "Go wait for me outside the door, love. I will be right with you. I wish to speak with His Majesty for a moment."
Wynne hesitated. "No one will bother me?"
"No. They won't," Alistair said bleakly. "No one will bother you again."
Wynne nodded. "Can I take my bow?"
Alistair nodded and held out the dagger also. "Here. This is yours."
Wynne took it. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Alistair opened his mouth to say something. Closed it. Then said: "You're welcome, Wynne. Maker go with you."
"And you, Your Majesty." Wynne curtsied.
Solana closed the door behind the girl and turned back to Alistair.
"Thank you. Bear with me, Alistair. I will tell her the truth one day."
Alistair straightened and approached. He cupped her cheek in one hand that shook slightly. "She is beautiful. Like her mother."
Solana smiled faintly. "And honourable like her father."
Alistair lowered his head and kissed her briefly. "Will you come see me before you leave?"
"Do you think that is a good idea? Really?" Solana placed her hand over his heart. "I spent fifteen years trying to get over you."
Alistair studied her face. "Did it work? Are you?"
Solana curled her hand into a fist, wrinkling the fabric beneath her fingers. "You know it didn't. But it doesn't matter. You are still the King. You are still married."
Alistair's gaze lifted to stare at the portraits upon the wall. "Yes. I know."
Solana stepped back, regret etched on her features. "I'm sorry, Alistair."
He nodded. "I understand."
She turned to head for the door, resting her hand on the handle. "Goodbye, Alistair."
"Goodbye, Solana."
She closed the door, refusing to turn around. Her heart ached. She wrapped an arm around her daughter and they left the opulent interior of Denerim Castle.