Chapter 3

Melisende felt a little nauseous as she travelled the moonlit road with the Dalish elf. Ronan was swift and determined. He hardly stopped to rest and he had barely given her any time to prepare before setting off. She had written a quick letter to Nathaniel, had gathered her swords and armor and was off before she even knew it.

Nathaniel. The thought of him still made her heart leap. With nothing much to do at the Keep anymore, Nathaniel had accepted an invitation from her brother Fergus to go hunting. He had taken Sammy with him and they had begged Melisende to come too, but she had refused. She wanted to be at the Keep when Tristan returned. She hadn't been there when he left. She had been worried all along. Out of all the Wardens, she knew Tristan best. It was not like him to just disappear. She knew how much Morrigan had been getting to him. She alone knew Tristan had a child with Morrigan. When Ronan said that he had found Morrigan, she was relieved. But then she was worried. Why hadn't he come back yet? She had kept her worries to herself, however. She hadn't wanted to trouble the others.

Melisende felt her stomach turn. She really shouldn't have joined in Oghren's drinking contest. Nobody ever could beat him. She clutched at the wound on her side. It throbbed in pain every once and a while, like it did now. She hadn't been on the road for some time now and the hasty pace was leaving her breathless. She stopped midstride. "Ronan, stop."

Ronan stopped and turned around to look at her. He grinned contemptuously at her as he noticed her heaving chest and painful look as she clutched at her side. "And you are a Grey Warden?"

Melisende frowned. "I was injured quite severely a year ago…"

Ronan came closer to her. "Well, suck it up; we have no time to waste."

Melisende sighed. She didn't quite trust Ronan. She felt like he was hiding something from her. How did he really know Tristan? What had his mother wanted to see Tristan for? Why did he think Tristan could save his mother? It was all very sketchy and suspicious. But they had a common goal, to find Tristan. She supposed she would just have to put up with his foul attitude for now. "Denerim will still be there in the morning. Besides, I highly doubt they'll just let us into the royal palace in the middle of the night."

"I thought you knew the king?" Ronan asked, a flicker of anger crossing through his eyes.

"I do. But even so, there is protocol to follow at court. I will get us an audience… but with… our history… it wouldn't look good if I came to him in the middle of the night." Melisende tried to explain. In her earlier haste, she hadn't realized this fact. The last thing she wanted to do was stir up gossip among the nobles. Anora might take it seriously. Alistair didn't need that.

Ronan groaned in frustration. "I don't understand the ways of you humans. Where I come from, the Keeper is always available to his people. But your kings, I hear they hide behind palace walls and come out only to wave to the people."

"That is not entirely true. King Alistair rules a whole kingdom. He has advisors and other nobles to help him rule. If he met with every single person to decide every single squabble, the kingdom would fall apart. And he doesn't just wave to the people. He has other duties. He fought for his country. As did his father, King Maric and his brother, King Cailan." Melisende replied defensively.

"Bah, let's just keep going." Ronan waved off her reply and began to turn around.

"No, we rest." Melisende stood her ground. Ronan turned back toward her. She stared at him sternly. He seemed to give in.

"Fine. But as soon as the sun comes up, we continue on our way." Ronan said as he walked off of the road and took a seat under a tree. Melisende was relieved. She hadn't realized how out of shape she had become. She hoped it wouldn't be long before she regained her previous form. Or maybe it was just the ale. She took a seat close by Ronan and watched him closely. He had the strangest eyes. They were a sparkly sky blue. Though blue eyes were not rare at all, as she herself had dark blue eyes, Ronan's eyes literally glittered when the light hit them. She had only ever seen one other person with eyes like those – Tristan. Strange, she thought. They were even sort of the same slanted shape. Nah, she must be just tired. She missed Tristan, and that was all.

She was startled from her thoughts by the appearance of a large wolf out of the darkness. She stood up in defense as it sauntered slowly towards Ronan. She grabbed at her swords on her back, but held back from drawing them when Ronan laughed at her. The wolf sat by Ronan and he pat it gently on the head.

"This is Ash." Ronan explained.

"You have a pet wolf?" Melisende asked incredulously. She slowly lowered herself back to a seated position.

"He's more a companion than a pet. He follows me, but he takes care of himself. He's certainly not a lapdog." Ronan replied. He smiled as Ash lay down beside him, crossing his paws and lowering his head onto them, all while closing his eyes to sleep.

"I once had a mabari." Melisende remarked, remembering Loki. She suddenly missed the hound.

"Don't get me started on mabaris if you want any rest." Ronan said with a slight grin, taking out his sword. He began to clean it. Puzzled, Melisende remained quiet for a few moments, entranced by the sword Ronan was lovingly caring for.

"Nice sword." She complimented him.

Ronan held it up at arm's length and admired it. The pommel and handle were made of ironbark and intricately carved with Dalish designs, similar to the many designs they wore on their faces. The blade itself was long and slightly curved in typical Dalish style. Melisende, however, couldn't tell what it was made of. It was shiny and the color of charcoal.

"This sword belonged to my grandfather. He was the greatest craftsmaster our clan has ever seen." Ronan remarked proudly. He held the sword out pommel first to Melisende. She reached over and accepted it. The blade was cool to the touch and smooth.

"What is it made of?" she asked curiously.

"Bones." Ronan replied as Melisende handed the sword back to him.

"The bones of a dragon?"

Ronan shrugged. "I don't really know. My grandfather found some bones when he was young. He thought it would make for a good blade, and he was right."

"Hmm…" Melisende replied. She was tired, but there was one thing she wanted to ask Ronan. "How sick is your mother?"

She thought Ronan might take offense at her for questioning his word. But instead, he turned to her miserably. "I have never seen her sick in all my life. And if my father sent me to fetch the Warden… then even he must think the worst…"

Melisende regarded Ronan sympathetically. She still didn't understand why they would fetch Tristan, but she suddenly felt sorry for Ronan. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. She thought of her own mother. If she was still alive and became ill, Melisende too would go to the ends of Thedas for her. She would do the same for her father, too, but he was dead too. With his mother so ill, it was no wonder Ronan was in such haste to find Tristan.

Ronan lay down near Ash. They were both muddy from the earlier rain. She would have to throw a bucket of water onto him before bringing him before the King. As he closed his eyes to rest, his earlier attitude returned. "We're off as soon as the sun rises. If you can't keep up this time, I will continue without you."

Well, so much for the niceness… Melisende thought. She would keep up. In fact, she would set the pace tomorrow and Ronan would be the one lagging behind and out of breath. She promised as she closed her own eyes that he would be in for a tough reality check, Grey Warden style.

…

"Ah, Denerim, it's been a while since I've seen your dirty, garbage filled streets." Melisende remarked as they entered the city. Ronan stood behind her, leaning over and holding onto his knees. She had kept her promise. She had set the pace at a little faster than a jog. Ronan had kept up steadily at first, but his endurance was lacking and he eventually had a hard time keeping up. She smiled at his attempt to hide his fatigue. He crinkled his nose.

"What a smelly place to live." Ronan said as he straightened up. Ash had taken to the woods just outside of Denerim. Ronan wished he could have brought the wolf with him, but bringing a wolf into a city just wouldn't do. He already felt people staring at him curiously. They obviously didn't see Dalish elves often.

"The city is not the only thing to emanate a stench…" Melisende playfully said, sending a look of concern at Ronan. He was offended. Sure, he was muddy still, but he had also been running like a fool for the past few days. "You can't see the king like that. We have to clean you up."

Suddenly, the prospect of meeting the king of Ferelden terrified Ronan. How was he supposed to act? What was he supposed to say? He didn't generally like humans. He was afraid he might insult the king accidently. Then what? Would the king throw him in prison? "Perhaps I could wait here, while you go ahead and speak to the king?"

Melisende frowned. "He may want to speak with you, seeing as you were probably the last person to see Tristan."

"What would that matter?" Ronan angrily snapped back. They began walking through the marketplace. There were a lot of people on the street. Ronan became uncomfortable. He had never seen so many humans before. Children scurried in front of him, pointing at him. He snarled at them in return.

"Alistair is one of Tristan's best friends. I would even say they are more like brothers than friends." Melisende explained as she stepped over some left over rubble. Looks like the city is not completely back to normal, she thought.

Ronan grumbled. Like brothers? For some reason he felt a little jealous. This made him somewhat angry and curious. What was this king like? "Fine. I will meet the king."

"Good." Melisende stopped in front of a small, recently repaired building. Ronan couldn't read, had never bothered to learn, really, but the symbol on the sign clearly called out tavern. Melisende opened the door. "But first, you need to throw a bucket of water over your head."

…

Melisende sat patiently on a corner bench. The Gnawed Noble tavern looked quite different from how it did before the final battle. No doubt it had caught fire and crumbled a little. But there were new walls and furniture and it still held the air of a stuffy meeting place for the big wigs of the city. She had sent Ronan to the back to clean up. Meanwhile, she re-arranged herself and freshened up while he was doing that. She was done quickly, never one to spend too much time on her appearance. It didn't make sense to her, seeing as she would just get messy again anyway. She was not some wallflower to stand around and look good. She was a fighter, a Grey Warden.

Melisende thought of Alistair. She hadn't seen him in almost two years. She wondered if he had changed much, if he was happy being a king, being married to Anora. Melisende found her stomach fluttering in nervous anticipation of the meeting. Nathaniel was her world now, but Alistair was her first love, she would always feel something for him.

She was startled back to reality by the arrival of Ronan. He sat abruptly onto the bench in front of her. He definitely cleaned up well, she found herself thinking. Melisende was astonished by how striking he looked. His brown hair shone gently, streaks of red visible here and there in some strands, and was pulled back into a messy bun. His tattoos were more visible now and quite… pretty. His eyes glittered in the sunlight that cascaded through the small window into the tavern.

"Shall we go?" Ronan asked.

"Yes, let's go."

…

Melisende and Ronan were led to an informal parlor room by a couple of guards and left alone. Ronan was surprised by how easily they were let in. Melisende was instantly recognized by the guards and had an easy way of talking with them. He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do. He felt utterly out of place inside this great palace. He had never been inside something so huge before, besides the ruins, but that didn't count in his mind. The ruins were like an extended part of the forest, overgrown and wild. But this large man-made structure was daunting. He paced back and forth, glancing at the ceiling, expecting it to crumble down on him any second.

Melisende, meanwhile, was suddenly anxious. Maybe she should have spent more time on her appearance. What would Alistair think of her after all this time? Would he be angry at her for pushing him away when he tried to help her? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. She took a seat on one of the sofas.

"You can sit down," she said to Ronan. His pacing was grating on her nerves. She took pity on him as he reluctantly sat down. He looked terribly ill at ease. She hoped she didn't look the same. She repeatedly ran a hand through her hair in an effort to make it look neat.

"What are you doing?" Ronan asked her, a look of slight annoyance on his face.

Melisende pouted. "I'm brushing my hair, what does it look like?"

"I thought women used combs to brush their hair, not their fingers." Ronan retorted sarcastically.

"Well I obviously don't have one with me, otherwise I would be using one." Melisende replied. She ran her hands over her arms, making sure her shirt was not dirty. Ronan sighed heavily. Her fidgeting was irritating him.

"You look fine," he remarked. She stopped fidgeting and looked a little embarrassed. "What's the big deal, anyway? I thought you knew the king personally."

"I do. I just… haven't seen him in a long time…" Melisende blushed. She didn't really want to be speaking about Alistair with a stranger.

"Right…" Ronan rolled his eyes and grinned. "You banged him, didn't you?"

"Excuse me!" Melisende asked, shocked that Ronan could be so blunt. Before she had time to reply, however, Alistair came striding into the room. As he glimpsed Melisende, he smiled broadly. Melisende sat up to greet him, extending her hand out, but Alistair instead grabbed her into a great big hug.

"Melisende, it's so good to see you!" he exclaimed. When he let her go, Melisende turned to Ronan, who grinned with mischief and even winked at Melisende with a knowing look. By the Maker, she thought, I am going to pummel him into the ground…

"This is Ronan." Melisende gestured toward the elf. Alistair enthusiastically took his hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you, Ronan." Alistair said. Ronan was unsure of what to say. He was flabbergasted by the friendliness of the king. He was expecting the king to be a stuffy and pompous old man. Then he remembered what he knew of the king – that he had been a bastard, raised away from court as a normal child. And he was most definitely not an old man. He was probably only slightly older than Tristan. Alistair gestured towards the sofas. "Please, sit."

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us so promptly." Melisende said. Her anxiety flew out the window. Alistair was the same as he had always been. She was relieved. He looked quite happy and comfortable of where he was. She was glad that it no longer pained her to think of what they had lost when he became king and married Anora.

"You know I'll always make time for a friend." Alistair replied, smiling still. "So what brings you to Denerim?"

It was Ronan's turn to be relieved. Straight to the point, that was what he was hoping for.

"It's Tristan." Melisende replied.

"Oh?" Alistair looked puzzled. "Has he found Morrigan?"

Melisende's heart sank. So he didn't know anything more than they did. "Yes, and we were hoping that he had sent news to you. He hasn't returned to the Keep yet. Ronan here met with him about three weeks ago. It is from him we know that Tristan found Morrigan."

"Strange." Alistair pondered. "That is not like him at all. It is a little worrisome, but we all know that he's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"But he's alone, what if something happened to him?" Melisende protested. She was hoping Alistair would have taken this more seriously.

"Maybe he's taking time for himself?" Alistair suggested.

"Without telling anyone?" Melisende replied inquisitively. Perhaps Alistair was right. But Melisende couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. It wasn't like him to just abandon everything. Something must have happened, right? Or perhaps she didn't really know Tristan at all.

Ronan cleared his throat to catch their attention. "Do you know where he could be?"

Alistair turned to Ronan curiously. "He could be anywhere."

"Where is Leliana?" Melisende asked. Perhaps he was with her.

"She is here, in Denerim." Alistair replied. He focused on Ronan. "Um, I don't mean to be rude here, but who are you exactly?"

"My father is Keeper Silas. My clan inhabits a part of the Brecilian Forest."
"I didn't realize there was another clan there, unless Keeper Lanaya…"

"No, we are another clan. We moved north during the Blight, but have recently returned." Ronan explained.

"And are you searching for Tristan?" Alistair prodded.

Ronan nodded. "It is urgent. My mother is sick. The Warden is the only one who can help her."

Alistair looked puzzled. "Surely your father, being a Keeper, can cure your mother with magic?"

Ronan shook his head. "There are no mages in my clan…"

"There are no other mages you can count on for help?" Alistair pushed. Ronan was getting nervous. He didn't want to reveal too much. It was none of their business why he needed Tristan and only Tristan.

"No." Ronan replied sternly and with force. Alistair looked to Melisende, who only shrugged.

"Then I apologize. I wish I knew where he was. Unfortunately he hasn't sent any news to me. I can ask around. Maybe some of my scouts and spies have seen him." Alistair offered.

"That would help. Thank you." Melisende said. Ronan sighed.

"There is no time." Ronan complained, standing up and walking over to the window.

"It won't take long. There are benefits to being a king, after all." Alistair grinned. "In any case, why don't you two stay the night? There's not much you can do right now."

Melisende glanced at Ronan. He gazed out the window, looking irritated. Alistair was right; there was nothing they could do at this point. She accepted his invitation, firmly reminding him that it would be for one night only. She hoped she wouldn't run into Anora. She couldn't bear having to make polite conversation with her. Alistair better not invite them to dinner.