Usual disclaimer…just in case. I don't own these characters, but I do enjoy playing with them very much! No beta so hopefully I'm spotted all the errors.

Haven't yet read David Gaider's books, so have no real model for Maric. But there is a copy winging its way from Canada as I type!

Alistair is about 8 in this chapter. Cailan about 15. Explanation for this at end of chapter.

Alistair – 9:13 of the Dragon Age – Redcliffe

He'd tried to stay clean, he really had, he told Lady Isolde, but the Anderfels bitch that belonged to the Captain's son had just pupped in the stables and he'd had to go and see them, he'd promised his friend he would. Oh, and it wasn't his fault that in doing so he'd managed to kneel in something best left unidentified, and smear his clean shirt (his new, clean shirt) with whatever blood and mire was left over from the birthing process. Well, he'd had to pick one up, hadn't he? Alistair grinned hopefully up at the arlessa who eyed him coldly. He wrinkled his nose at her, "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" He stated flatly.

A freshly scrubbed Alistair now stood in the arl's private family quarters fidgeting nervously. Of course he understood that the King and his son had come to visit and that he was to be presented, and no, he hadn't intended to cause the busy Arlessa any problems, but he'd been anxious and needed to take his mind off the impending meeting.

He thought back to the evening before. Hidden among the bustle of the castle servants Alistair had caught a glimpse of Maric and Cailan as they'd arrived. He had no illusions of being accepted as family but he had to admit his curiosity. Alistair had no memory of his mother and these were the only people in the world who shared his blood. He'd peered at them through the commotion and activity of their arrival and had stood frozen at the first sight of his father. He could feel his heart pounding as he studied the man's features and recognised himself there. The King moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, confident and sure and Alistair was mesmerised. Maric looked like a hero from the old tales.

The sound of arl Eamon's voice snapped Alistair's thoughts back and he turned his attention to the door. His stomach churned uncomfortably and he brought his hand up quickly to feel the reassuring presence of the amulet he always wore under his shirt. And then the door opened.

XXX

Alistair perched on a wall in the courtyard, his legs swinging slightly as he ate an apple and considered the meeting. Without the pomp and pageantry Maric was less intimidating than he'd expected. The King had asked the boy polite but distant questions, enquiring as to his interests and his education. Did he like sword craft? Yes, very much. Did he enjoy his lessons? Yes, as long as they were short. And then, "Are you happy, Alistair?" Maric was looking at him now. Really looking at him and Alistair opened his mouth in surprise. In that moment he was aware that someone was focussing entirely on him. Not in that absent way that busy adults had when dealing with children. Alistair the bastard, Alistair who was always in the way, always an inconvenience to someone somewhere. 'I'm sorry.' Maric's eyes seemed to say. 'You deserve more'.

"Happy?" Alistair stuttered, confused. "I like it here. Cook lets me lick the bowl when she's baking, and if I promise not to ask too many questions I'm allowed to watch the Knights train. Is that what you mean, My Lord?"

Maric hesitated then rested his hand lightly on Alistair's head and met his eyes intently. "Work hard, Alistair. Listen to arl Eamon and his lady." And then he was gone, leaving the boy staring after him. Maric was a man, after all, Alistair thought. Not a hero from the old tales. Not willing to be his hero. He sniffed, while knowing you can never be accepted is one thing, to have it demonstrated before your eyes is quite another.

XXX

Alistair looked up as he recognised the arl's presence and realised that the Prince was with him. He hopped down quickly, thrusting the apple behind his back and wiping his mouth quickly on his sleeve. "Alistair, there you are." The arl smiled at him. "I wanted to introduce you to Prince Cailan."

The Prince seemed to study him with interest. "Alistair, is it?" He nodded as he looked the boy over seeming to satisfy something in him.

Alistair bowed awkwardly. "Greetings, your Highness."

This formality made Cailan chuckle with amusement. "Quite the little courtier, are we not? I was on my way to the armoury. Uncle Eamon has some new Orlesian blades." He winked conspiratorially at the boy. "I'm hoping he'll let me chose one for myself. Do you want to come?"

The boy considered him for moment taking in his long blond hair, immaculate clothing and earnest expression before shaking his head in a quick 'no'. He watched them make their way to the armoury before allowing his eyes to narrow in childish anger. "Little courtier!" His inner voice exclaimed in irritation. "Condescending idiot!" He took another bite of his apple and remembered the new born pups. He smiled and shrugged off any remaining gloom. "Well, you can't choose your relatives." He told himself and bounded back to the stables.

Extract from the Memoir of his Royal Highness Prince Cailan – 9:13 of the Dragon Age

It pleased me to be visiting Redcliffe after so many years. We hadn't been there since I was a little boy and it almost felt like I was coming home. Eamon and Teagan come to court, but it was nice to see Mother's home again. I miss her still, and my Uncles have always been good to me.

It was also good to be free for a while of Anora. She's still furious with me and I was glad of the opportunity to escape. I shall have to be more discrete in the future; the maids do gossip so!

Father had been quiet as we approached the castle. I was aware of his history here, but surprised that he hadn't made the journey many years previously. Out of curiosity, if nothing else. I admit to feeling intrigued myself and was keen to meet the boy.

Father's little indiscretion. I think I'd have known him anywhere. A miniature little Theirin; though his colouring is slightly different and his hair stands up stubbornly at the front. Teagan speaks highly of him, although Lady Isolde, dare I say it, seems to behave quite spitefully towards him. I myself found him pleasant, although quite in awe of me, of course; the poor boy could barely speak, although he met my eyes boldly. I found myself liking him. I wouldn't admit this to father, but it pleased me to know I wasn't alone in the world, and this boy has some spirit, I'm told. Perhaps I can persuade father to bring him to court.

Author's note:

Yes, yes. I know Cailan's meant to say "Ooh, Swords!" and run off, but my Cailan needed to be old enough in chapter 1 to understand some of the emotion that Maric was feeling. I couldn't see a teenage Cailan running off like a child so I tried to keep the situation similar in content (i.e. swords and armoury) whilst changing the nature of the conversation. I also wanted to give Alistair something to feel slightly annoyed about when describing his first meeting with Wynne in their conversation. In trying to be kind, Cailan is meant to come across slightly patronising to an Alistair who is feeling slightly let down. I think he'd understand a word like 'condescending'. Alistair, after all, is not actually stupid. He just pretends to be sometimes for a quiet life! ;)