Chapter 15

Denerim's harbor was bustling with business again. It had taken a while after the Blight, but eventually the traders, the travelers, and unfortunately, the smugglers, had all returned to Ferelden's capital city. A tall, hooded, man leaned against a dock post, clutching at a bright, red apple. He took a large bite, chewing it slowly while surveying the sea.

Ah, good ol' Ferelden apples – slightly out of season, but delicious just the same. The man savored the sweet taste of the apple, a taste he had almost forgotten. He turned away from the sea as he heard approaching footsteps, heavy and loud, though the man making them was a dwarf. The dwarf, clean shaven and bald, walked over to him with an assured swagger. The dwarf paused just beside him.

"Please tell me the ship is ready to go." The man said quietly.

"As soon as that ship gets out of our way, Llomerynn, here we come." The dwarf replied loudly.

The man shuddered in disgust as he bit into a piece of the apple which harbored a worm. He spit it out and tossed the rest of the apple into the sea. "Good. This town gets sour fast."

The dwarf chuckled at his misfortune. He ignored the dwarf, keeping a wary eye on a trio of Templars marching along the docks.

"But you always take the runs here. You're always the first one to volunteer to the boss. Ancestors know it ain't been easy since Alistair became king." The dwarf pondered aloud.

The man shrugged. "What can I say? I have an incurable urge to see this dump every once and a while."

The dwarf looked a little confused. "Why? Ferelden lasses, for one, are so uptight. And the smell of wet dog? It's everywhere. Not to mention, even the Pearl is tame compared to home. I'd take Llomerynn's vices over Denerim any day."

The man winced as a passerby gave them a curious yet suspicious glance. "You might speak a little louder, dwarf."

"We're untouchable." The dwarf confidently replied.

The man sighed. He certainly wasn't going to get into that with the dwarf. The dwarf knew too much already. He ignored the dwarf and instead focused his attention on the trio of Templars making their way toward him.

"The Grey Warden is an apostate." One of them said.

"We ought to be able to arrest him. Just because he ended the Blight, are we to turn a blind eye to his abilities?" asked the other. The man listened with slight interest. He hadn't heard much about the Blight.

"If anything, that makes him more dangerous. With ideas of power in his head, who knows what he is capable of?" the first Templar replied. It always amused the man to know how frightened Templars were of mages. He wondered always why those kinds even became Templars.

The trio was passing right by him now. He couldn't help himself. He kicked his leg out, tripping the nearest Templar, the one who had been frightened about the power of the Grey Warden. The Templar fell in a tumble of metal and dust. His fellow Templars helped him up quickly. Just as fast, the man turned away with a smile on his face. They hadn't noticed him.

The dwarf gave him a questioning look as the Templars continued on their way. Probably still waiting for an answer… Well, the dwarf wouldn't get one. Instead, he focused on the ship making its way into the harbor. It pulled up to the docks slowly.

"What's the deal with that ship anyway?" he asked the dwarf.

The dwarf shrugged, but loving to hear the sound of his own voice, he relayed what he had heard from their own ship's captain. "Apparently, the navy wasn't going to let it through – it's Tevinter and reeks of criminality. But the Commander of the Grey is on it. He rescued a bunch of useless Dalish from slavers."

The man stiffened at the mention of the Dalish. He had known a few, back in the days of his youth. Curious now, he edged closer to the ship, which had finally docked. Soldiers entered onto the ship, arresting the crew. And then two men carried out a litter. He guessed one was the Commander, for the bystanders, and there were a lot that had gathered by this time, pointed and said things like "hero" and "Grey Warden". But frankly, he was more interested in the occupant of the litter. Something was drawing his attention to it.

He pushed through the crowd, using his height to his advantage and craning over heads to see better. The dwarf, to his utter annoyance, followed.

At the front of the crowd, he stopped. The men were carrying a woman – a Dalish elf. His heart seemed to jump out of his chest at that moment as he realized he knew who she was.

"Dwarf," he said sharply, staring at the litter pass by. "Delay our departure."

"What! What for?" the dwarf asked, perplexed.

"Just do it." He left the docks then and followed the progress of the litter, not letting it out of his sight for one second.

…

"Thank you, Alistair." Tristan said once the room only contained the three of them, Alistair, Melisende, and himself, the Grey Wardens of old.

"I would never turn away a friend in need… even if that friend disappeared without a word." Alistair replied, arching a brow questioningly at Tristan.

"I guess I deserve that look. Know that it wasn't planned." He paused and ran a hand through his hair. What more could he say? "It just happened."

"Right." Alistair frowned. Tristan guessed he'd have to be straight with Alistair. He had let him down after all. He was supposed to have been back at the Keep, commanding the Grey Wardens. But he had run off. Alistair never would have run.

"Honestly. After I decided not to come back, I thought it would be better to just vanish. If I had told you – you would have held me back. I needed that time." Tristan tried to explain.

"Not true. I would never force you to do something you didn't want to do. All you had to do was speak up." Alistair said.

"Well, it's a little late to find that out." Tristan couldn't help but chuckle. What would have happened if he had come back? Alistair would have given him a leave of absence, and then what? Would Ronan have found him? Would they have been able to save his mother's clan? His mother? He never would have seen Brenna again. There was no point in dwelling on the what ifs. What had happened was more important at the moment. "Besides, I have some pretty relentless and stubborn friends."

Alistair looked to Melisende, who shrugged.

"I don't give up easily where my friends are concerned," she said, smiling.

Alistair turned his attention back to Tristan. "Now that you are back, you are returning to your duties, right?"

"Yes." Tristan said without hesitation. This almost surprised him. He hadn't really thought about it since Brenna's house. He realized that he belonged at the head of the Grey Wardens. Alistair looked relieved at his answer. He wouldn't have to find a replacement, though Tristan didn't think replacing him would have been very hard – Melisende was as good as if not a better leader than he was.

"Good. Now that that is out of the way, I am curious, about your Dalish friends." Alistair asked curiously.

"Ah, yes." Tristan sighed, thinking of his mother hanging on to dear life. "Siofra… she is my mother."

Alistair looked a little surprised. "Really?"

Tristan nodded.

"Unfortunately, that means, not to be rude here, but that impolite whelp, what's his name again? Robert, no Ro-, Rodney, no…" Alistair struggled to remember his brother's name. Tristan chuckled.

"Ronan?" Melisende spoke up.

"Yes, Ronan! That's it. Anyway, he is your brother?" Alistair asked.

Tristan laughed.

Melisende frowned and looked crossly at Alistair. "Hey, he's not so bad after all."

Alistair looked curiously at Melisende. "If you say so, Mel."

"Mel's right. He's… different now. Hopefully that will last. In any case… Siofra, I hardly know her. Now I may never get the chance to…" Tristan had to look away. If the situation wasn't so dire, he might laugh at the irony of it all. He finally believed the woman's story, he finally was willing to embrace her as his mother, and she might not even make it through the night.

Alistair placed a hand on his shoulder. "We've got great healers. I'll even send for Wynne if we have to."

"Thank you again, Alistair." Tristan paced around the room, feeling helpless. He felt his fellow Grey Wardens watching him intently, like curious children, waiting for a handout. He stopped and looked at them. "Okay, spit it out. I know what you both are itching to ask. So ask it."

"Yay!" Alistair sarcastically cried out. "I thought you'd never give us the chance."
Melisende rolled her eyes. "We know that you found Morrigan. What happened?"

Tristan sighed. He had been expecting this, ever since Melisende had found him at Brenna's place. But they had gotten distracted. He didn't exactly know what to say. "Morrigan was… Morrigan for lack of a better word."

Alistair coughed. "Ahem, bitch?"

Tristan chuckled and then smirked. "I would never say that of her. She's cold, cruel, and a little haughty, but she's certainly not a female dog." And she had her positive moments, though Tristan wasn't going to argue that with his fellow Wardens. They were set on believing the worst of Morrigan. He didn't blame them, really, but he was eager to put her behind him. She didn't deserve to be defended by him, not after the way she had used him, even if it saved his life in the end.

"Oh, just get on with it." Melisende prodded, annoyed.

"Right. On a more serious note, she is the mother of my child. She was very evasive. She wouldn't tell me her plans, only reassured me that he was fine." Tristan recalled his short meeting with Morrigan.

"A son then?" Alistair asked.

"A son with no name." Tristan replied.

"She didn't even let you see him? Or tell you his name?" Melisende asked in disbelief.

"Like I said, she was very evasive. She blabbered on about change and warned me of Flemeth." Tristan explained.

"Flemeth? We killed her." Alistair pointed out.

"Apparently not." Tristan replied.

"So you let Morrigan go?" Melisende asked, probably for the sake of hearing the rest of the story. He knew that it was probably obvious to her that he did.

"What else could I do? I warned her though, that if I ever heard of her using our child for evil, that I would come for him. I would…" Tristan didn't finish the sentence. Kill her, he thought. He didn't want to say it out loud. It sounded so cold blooded. Melisende put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"There's no need to say anything more," she said quietly, understanding his thoughts. He gave her a grateful look.

"So it sounds as if you didn't get the closure you needed…" Alistair inquired.

"Closure?" Tristan thought for a moment. He remembered his trip to the Fade, the demon taunting him with his son. "No. Peace of mind? Perhaps. Time will tell."

Alistair looked toward the doorway behind Tristan with interest. He began to fidget. Anora, perhaps? Puzzled, Tristan turned his head enough to see what was bothering Alistair. It wasn't Anora, it was Leliana. He closed his eyes and braced himself.

"So, um, Mel, do you want to see my statuette collection?" Alistair asked Melisende, taking her by the elbow. Melisende looked confused at this sudden turn in conversation. He was trying to give Tristan time alone with Leliana.

"Still playing with dolls, Alistair?" Melisende teased.

"They are not dolls! They are action figures. Come. I'll show you." Alistair began leading her away.

"Now?" Melisende asked. Then she saw Leliana. Melisende sent a concerned look toward Tristan, but allowed herself to be led away by Alistair.

"Yeah, why not?" Alistair paused at the doorway, acknowledging Leliana. Melisende placed a concerned hand on Leliana's arm, and then they left. Leliana had eyes only for Tristan.