Chapter 18

A few days later, Melisende strolled through the garden, hoping to find Ronan. She pulled her cloak around her tighter for it was cold. The air felt heavy, like it would snow any minute now. She saw him as she turned a corner. He sat on a wooden fence, his hair flittering loose in the wind.

"I thought I'd find you here," she said, grasping on to the wooden fence.

Ronan looked up, a little startled and flashed her a smile. "You are leaving?"

So he already knew. "Yes. I received a letter from Nathaniel. Things are not so well at the Keep."

Melisende fought down her worry. She would think of those things when she got to them. For now, she concentrated on Ronan. He nodded and said nothing for a few moments, just listening to the sounds of the palace. The garden was not at all peaceful. Voices drifted from the guards, from across the wall, and from the kitchen door not far away. He must be anxious to get back to the forest, where peaceful actually was silence.

"I guess this is goodbye." Ronan finally said.

"No," Melisende rebuffed him quickly, "it is see you later."

Ronan smiled. "For what it's worth, sh-, Melisende, thank you."

"For what?" Melisende was puzzled.

"For helping me. For putting up with me." Ronan replied.

Melisende couldn't help it, she laughed. "Yes, I should receive some sort of medal. Or perhaps a plaque with a commemorative that says I survived traveling with Ronan, the world's most insufferable elf. Yes, I think that would be nice."

Ronan grinned and then fixated his gaze on his stump of a hand, covered still in bandages. Melisende took note, pity welling up inside of her. She knew what it was like to be injured, but this – this was more than cruel. Ronan was lucky that it was not his sword hand and that it hadn't gotten infected. Too many soldiers had died from losing a limb. He had survived, but Ronan would never be able to use a bow again. She didn't know how he would hunt. She knew how much stock Dalish put in those abilities.

"I will miss you Ronan," she croaked and swallowed back a sob. Really, Mel, she thought, is it that hard to leave him?

Ronan turned to her. His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight and streaks of red glistened in his hair. He looked forlorn and weary. Melisende found herself having to catch her breath. He was gorgeous. She imagined he looked like an elven god, albeit a tragic one. Suddenly, he grinned mischievously.

"I will miss you too," he said as he jumped off the fence and wrapped his arms around her. Taken by surprise, it took Melisende a few seconds before she returned the hug.

As he let her go, an elven serving woman came shyly up to them.

"Pardon me for interrupting, but your mother is calling for you," the serving woman looked to Ronan.

"I will be there soon." Ronan acknowledged the servant. She blushed and then turned around quickly to leave.

"You know, there was a time not so long ago when you would have been impolite to a girl such as that." Melisende pointed out curiously, recalling the time he had refused a drink from a "flat ear".

"I have seen the error of my ways. Not everybody is… evil." Ronan grinned, meeting Melisende eye to eye. It seemed to Melisende that he was talking about more than just the servant. Perhaps he meant that statement for Melisende and Tristan too.

"I'm glad you realized that." Melisende smiled.

"Dareth shiral, Grey Warden." Ronan declared, turning around slowly and following down the path the elven woman had taken. Melisende watched with a pang until he was no longer visible.

…

Later, as Melisende waited outside of the palace for Tristan to join her, she noticed a hole in her left boot. Annoyed, she crouched down to examine it closer. It wouldn't do to start off her journey home with a hole in her boot. Her long braid fell over her shoulder, momentarily distracting her view of the boot. As she went to flip it back, she noticed something stuck in the middle of the braid, something pink. She grabbed at it curiously, and standing up, she pulled it out of her hair.

"A flower?" she muttered questioningly to herself. However did that end up in her hair? Did flowers even grow this close to winter? And then she knew how it had gotten there; Ronan, his look of mischief as he had hugged her. The sly lout must have put it there.

Smiling to herself, Melisende carefully put the delicate flower in her pouch. She hadn't even noticed he was holding it. Then she looked around her, making sure that nobody had seen her. She had, after all, a reputation to keep up. Clutching at a flower, a pink flower no less, certainly wouldn't do it any good.

…

Tristan sat in front of Siofra, waiting for Ronan to come along. He had to leave, and soon. He had to say goodbye. He hadn't talked about anything serious to Siofra since she had awakened, not wanting to overwhelm her. But she had insisted he tell her all about himself. So he indulged her, warily at first. He didn't want to rush into anything. Now that she was better, they had all the time in the world to get to know each other. But then Nathaniel's letter had come. He absolutely had to go back to the Keep. The news had not reached the public yet, and he was grateful.

Ronan arrived, taking a seat next to Siofra. Siofra smiled, the way she always did when both of them were in the same room, a radiant and infectious smile.

"Your fellow Grey Warden came to visit with me. She told me how lucky I was to have two such fine sons." Siofra said. "She is right. You two are the best sons a mother could wish for."

Tristan frowned and Ronan looked embarrassed.

"You really don't know me that well. I am not perfect." Tristan stated.

"No, you are not. But who is perfect? Life would be boring if everyone was." Siofra replied with a smile. "I know that you ran away from your duties. Your father, he ran away, too. And in the end, it cost him his life."

Tristan was surprised. This was the first time she had mentioned his father. He was curious, but he really had to go. And frankly, he did not want to talk of his father in front of Ronan. He could feel Ronan's scowl without having to look across at him.

"But I also see, like your father, you are a fighter. You protect those you love with all you have to give. I am grateful for that." Siofra continued. Thankfully, she turned to Ronan at that moment. Tristan didn't think he could take any more praise from her, even if he was a little curious about his father.

"And you. You are every bit like your father as well. In his younger days, Silas was brash, cocky, and thought the worst of humans, for no good reason. But he changed. There is a softer side to him, just as there is to you. It is there, I know it is, even though you try to hide it." Siofra explained to Ronan, who looked a little flustered.

"And what of you Siofra? What have you passed on? I know not much about either of you, but I can see that you have raised Ronan very well…" Tristan began, but stopped. He didn't know what to say. He had missed out on being raised by his mother. He still found it too odd to even call her mother.

"What is this? We are not a bunch of little girls to be gushing over each other's character." Ronan interrupted with a frown, clearly irritated at the direction of the conversation.

Siofra laughed. "Oh Ronan, you never cease to amaze me."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ronan asked a little defensively.

"Don't be so defensive, it is a good thing." Siofra replied with a smirk.

Ronan muttered something under his breath as Siofra ruffled his hair.

"In any case," Tristan changed the subject. "I must leave. My duties call me back. Alistair has said that you may spend the winter here… if you like." It was getting late, and he needed to be on his way.

Siofra looked a little disappointed, but she smiled faintly anyway. "I admit, I am not surprised. But I hope that in the future, you will come to visit. You are always welcome in my clan. Your clan, for you saved us and you are part of the family."
Tristan wasn't going to make any promises, but neither was he going to walk out and never look back. "I will do my best…"

That was enough for Siofra, who finally had her son back in her life, even if he would be far away; she knew that he finally accepted her.