AN:

This chapter was particularly hard to write - it has a bitter air about it, quite hard to chew. I have to say first that all of Kallian's kin are quite close to my heart, and it was a tough task to picture them with their flaws, frustrations and misconceptions - as I would honestly expect them to be, rather than perfect beings that support Kallian in whatever choices she makes. In my defense, I have to say that at my last play-through with Kallian Soris seemed rather bitter to me - I don't remember the exact quote, but, after the Unrest in the Alienage quest, he said something like 'You're the hero-and-all' and I thought I detected this hint of resentment - maybe it's just me, dunno.

I apologize if I offended anybody with my approach; I also have to say I treated Alistair rather badly (although I'm quite fond of him as well)... but I'll make up to him.

Also, I apologize for the delayed update, but that is something that I will make up for soon - this here is only half of what chapter 'No Place Like Home' was initially, and I hope to post the other half this weekend.

I hope you'll - well, not exactly enjoy - this chapter, but, rather, get a feeling of them all, each with their respective drama. If it works for you, I'll know I've done them justice. If not, well, I'd love to know what you think, either by review or PM. I'm open to debate and con-crit.

So, here we go (deep breath...)

Disclaimer:The Dragon Age world doesn't belong to me.

Chapter 8 – No Place Like Home

Redcliffe, 18 Bloomingstide 31:9 Dragon

It had to happen, sooner or later. As Anora put it, it had to happen rather sooner if disavowing her was not among his intentions. That doesn't change how he feels about the whole thing.

His head is still heavy from the wine he had last night. It is very early in the morning, not yet past dawn, and he stares east, right into the sun, from the battlements of the Redcliffe castle. Towards Denerim. They will have to go there, sooner or later, he thinks briefly, before the memory of the night's events comes back hauntingly. He thinks of Leliana. He can't help it. After all it is because of her that the night's events went astray. He closed his eyes only for a moment, enough for the memories to engulf him – underneath his tightly closed eyelids he saw the piercing blue gaze, and the lilting, soothing voice resounded underneath his skull right behind the ears. He would whisper her name in that moment, and he would open his eyes to see her lean gently over his naked body; but then, it was only Anora that he found. He deflated instantly and thoroughly, and no matter what Anora did to him afterwards he found himself unable to perform.

It is only him that is such a failure. A King that can't even get it on.

"My King."

Anora has joined him on the battlements. Her voice is soft and soothing as she puts an elegant hand on his sleeve, and Alistair wonders where this sudden kindness has come from. It's not like he's used to expect such from her. She looks small and vulnerable in the cold light, perhaps due to the fact that she wears only a kirtle under the cloak and she is shivering slightly.

"I – don't know what to say."

"There is no need to say anything, My Lord. We can try again, when we will feel – more at ease with each other."

He is not at all sure if she expects it, or whether it is suiting to their station, but he puts a tentative arm around her shoulders to stop her from shivering as he answers.

"I would like that."

He suddenly realizes that he has spoken the truth, and fails to notice he's forgotten all thoughts of Leliana. Yes, he would very much like that, and feeling more at ease with his Queen – sooner, rather than later.

Shianni wiped her brow with her sleeve. Though the air was warm enough, there was a cumbersome dampness in the air that didn't let one breathe right; that, with the sickening clouds that had never left Denerim's sky since the battle, added to the chore of doing mostly anything of late. It was high time she'd take a break anyhow, having been washing hose, shifts and trews since noon for Soris, Cyrion and herself. She had only a couple of whites left to wash, before getting a dress ready for her own work-day on the morrow and she'd be done with. Shianni was taking advantage of her day off to put the house in due order; seeing that all three of them, uncle Cyrion, Soris and herself were of late working most days from early morning to last light – uncle Cyrion more, even, since he'd found that job in the marketplace, as the merchants wanted their job done and, while they had the right coin to go with it, they demanded their people to work till late hours of the day. Not that Shianni was complaining over the sudden call for working hands; the Alienage elves were thriving, faring even better than before the blight, as, with the reconstruction of Denerim and whatnot, shems couldn't afford to be picky on who to entrust certain tasks with anymore. More so, since Anora had left behind huge amounts of coin from the Royal coffers, to help with it all, before taking leave to Redcliffe. Still, that left the house unkempt most days, little time to gather around the dinner table at night, and mostly no one to share a word with during day-time. Shianni stretched, and shoved the next piece of clothing in the lukewarm water.

"Oy, there."

Lost in her musings, Shianni hadn't noticed how late in the day it was- Alarith had just arrived with supplies, which meant it was already the time when he'd close the store. He'd brought a bundle with freshly-baked bread and three thin slices of dried meat – only the Maker knew how he could get his hands on meat these days, be it fresh or dry, when shems didn't even have a working marketplace anymore and the rich spent huge coin to get their hands on whatever scarce supplies the daring merchants that ventured cross the blighted lands could bring to Denerim. Alarith was the best.

"How goes it?"

"As it is." Shianni gestured to the pile of clothes. "How goes it, Alarith?"

Such and such. Trade was good. The weather, not overly endearing. Children were children, though, and would play in the mud regardless. He was keeping them around him as he could, to help with the shop and whatnot, but it seemed not enough. The young one had taken ill the other day, for the foul weather, no doubt, and, with Althana gone, no one was left to look after him. He had to leave Merrian, the oldest, at home, to take care of his brother, and Merrian was a fine lad, fourteen summers already, but that was no task for a boy. He'll soon have to take up a job outside, too, and, while Alarith was the last to complain for the amount of work to be found, Merrian would be missed around the house. And, by Andraste, it was hard for a lone man to look after all four of them… Shianni nodded knowledgeably, and would have said something too, but for Soris who was coming down the muddy pathway. Alarith bode his farewell.

"He's pestering you again? I'll break his legs when I see him next."Soris frowned, having seemingly returned from work in a quite foul mood.

"He's lone, brother, and he's brought us meat. Let him talk."

"I don't give a rat's tail. He's a widower. He wouldn't dare talk like that to my sister, had he not lent an ear to the rumors."

"The rumors are true, Soris. You know it as well as I," Shianni said, with a tired voice. "Alarith is not from our Alienage, you know. Don't tell you wish for me to end my days alone."

"Even so. He'll never ask your hand in marriage, mark my words."

Shianni knew better than to retort to a hungry and worn-out Soris. Though her shoulders had sunken slightly, her manner gave no other clue of how the matter stood with her. She was by now used to the way men around her, family or not, were seemingly unable of giving her 'issue' rest – all, but Alarith.

It was around that time when Kallian chose to show up. The small, slender, cloaked and hooded figure who closed in at pace stirred a grain of hopeful recognition in her cousin's eyes – but it wasn't until she revealed her features just so that Shianni dared believe the truth of it. Her cousin was back from the dead - again.

"Do come in," she said quickly, taking heed to the sign of concealment her cousin made from under the cloak, leaving the half-washed linens as they were in the grayish water. She entered the hut, and the hood followed suit.

"Cousin!" Soris jumped at the sight, spitting and coughing at his half-chewed morsel of stale bread, as Kallian revealed herself fully.

The time had passed, and not in a way favorable to any of the three, either. They eyed each other awkwardly, in perfect silence, as the full awareness of how different they all were from those who, no more than two years before, were so merrily chasing ale with tall tales and looking eagerly to their future, supposedly bound to bring them husbands and families and a word of their own in the grown-ups world, sunk in. That future was forever gone, and, as they saw regret mirrored on each other's faces, they also measured silently the toll that the past year had taken on them, too steep and much too early. Soris was beginning to show bad teeth, and his crooked smile had a fair amount of bitterness under it. Shianni's hair had grown longer and unkempt, making the newly grown grey strands more visible altogether. Kallian had grown even thinner and her cheekbones were even more protruding underneath the weathered skin of her gaunt cheeks, as if she had dried up on the inside. The smile she put up didn't quite manage to reach her eyes, although she grabbed her cousins close and tight in a hearty hug.

"It's good to see you both."

Soris clapped her back, affectionately.

"How are you, cousin? Tell us all of it."

Shianni, though, wasn't about to get over things so quickly; she had things to say, and then some, and she was getting more wound-up as she spoke.

"Hold it! You promised you'll be back after the battle. You didn't give us all a sign. We thought you dead, for the second time in one year. How could you not think of us, not one bit?"

"It's a long story, Shianni, but I couldn't." Kallian said, half apologetic and half annoyed. "If it helps, I can tell you that I was very nearly dead – again…"

It didn't, apparently.

"How dare you show up like that, without a word yet again? ...what did you just say?" Kallian arched an eyebrow, as her words were seemingly beginning to sink in.

"Oh, that explains how you look as if you haven't eaten or slept for a full month!..."

Kallian was on the verge of laughter. She knew better than to annoy her fiery cousin more, though, so she bit her lip before thanking her for the kind words. It was comforting to see some things never changed, altogether.

As usually, Soris was utterly cut out from saying anything when Shianni got words pouring out. He seemed to find a break, at long last.

"Shianni, let her be. She'll tell us what happened, if you let her breathe."

"Been travelling, but that's about it. Not half as tiresome as you'd expect. Actually, I have slept – and eaten – quite enough of late, thank you." Contradicting her composure, Kallian's Warden belly growled at the reminder of food. She wasn't about to impose herself on the – already scarce – table of her kin, so she ignored her always-present hunger and went on.

"As, for the part of people knowing me dead, I should very much like to keep it that way. I can't rightly tell you why, but, please, don't share the news overly much. I came here for you and Father alone."

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, cousin?" Shianni jumped yet again. Before Kallian could reply to that, more of that was to follow, it seemed, were it not for Cyrion's arrival, who couldn't have chosen a better moment to come home. Kallian let out a breath and, as more hugging ensued, she let herself lean against her father like she hadn't done since a kid, probably; it was a clear enough sign for all those present of how genuinely tired she really was. Cyrion offered a most required break from all the pestering, as he seated them all around the table and poured a stout of ale for everyone. Kallian unwound a bit and she begun recalling this and that, bits from the fight, mostly, slight hints that the Queen didn't want Warden heroes roaming around the place after the Blight was done with, and she let out she'd travelled mostly for the past month and a half. Then, she surprised all at the sudden change of topic as she turned to Shianni with a question.

"Shianni. What of the Ashes that I left with you?"

"Ah, cousin." The wide smile on her face was proof enough for Kallian that she hit one of Shianni's soft leaned forward, more than willing to listen.

"We found that the Ashes cure the blighted land – have you seen how green and healthy our Vhenandahl has grown of late?"

"Oh? It is, isn't it." Kallian had seen the Vhenandahl before going to her father's house, but had barely taken note of the thriving tree – of course it was supposed to be much more affected by the Blight; she hadn't thought of that when she'd passed by.

"And, have you seen that there is no trace of taint in the Alienage ground, as well?..."

"I haven't made much of it, you know – since the darkspawn never actually entered here, I thought it was due to that."

"No, it is because I sprinkled some in every corner, and on every house" Shianni said smugly, taking obvious pride in it.

"I see." As Shianni's face became brighter, Kallian's disposition seemed to darken by the moment. "Do they cure people, as well?"

"From the taint, you mean? It seems so, yes. We never arrived to try them on the firsthand tainted, though. Guards from the palace came and slain them all – Queen's edict, or so they said." Shianni sighed, but went on, without giving Kallian space to say anything at the news. "The others, though, who were plagued second, as it were, were cured, yes."

"I'm sorry" Kallian said in all seriousness. Obvious as it may have been that she herself had at one time or another dealt with people touched by taint, it was still no trifle, and she wouldn't let pass this by. Shianni went on speaking, though.

"I'm sorry that I can't answer your question, though, unless you're up to gathering some more, to find out…"

"How do you mean, cousin?"

"I used them all. I used them all to cure the land in the Alienage."

"Oh." Kallian put a face that spoke of her disappointment, but not overly much. "Yes, that would be it. I should gather some more" she said, without a hint of mirth.

The eve went by, and soon after Kallian rose to take her leave.

"Dine with us" Cyrion said, as expected.

"Can't. I'm not here of my own." The answer came curter than expected.

Cyrion didn't seem to be put off at that.

"Please. It would do us all good to break bread together."

"I must be on my way soon, lest I want someone to take notice of my being here…"

"Bring your people, too. We have yet to thank them."

It seemed that he wouldn't take no for an answer, and Kallian was starting to give up.

"Just a one is here. I would have to speak with her."

"By all means. Maker knows we didn't have time to talk, last time. Tell her that she's most welcome."

Kallian arched one eyebrow, tilting her head just so. Had Father just hinted what she thought he had, or was it simply Cyrion's hospitality speaking? She couldn't very well ask about that, as well as she couldn't rightly ask what supplies were needed for dinner. She briefly mused on the how's and when's of this occurrence – this sudden impossibility of plainly speaking with her kin.

"I will" she said, before turning on her heels. Then off she went.

"I can't believe you, uncle…" Shianni's shrill voice resounded clearly in the silence that followed. "I mean, Kallian and that – shem – woman, of all things!..."

"Listen, you two." Cyrion seemed very serious, like always when he would have important matters to speak about. "Adaia was Dalish, did you know?" Of course they hadn't known that – before the Blight, people in the Alienage even doubted that the Dalish existed at all. Nobody talked about things as this. "I was a cook for the Arl of Southron Hills back then. One day, the lords went out to hunt deer, it was mid Kingsway, I remember, and they got almost all of us out as beaters. Now, the lords wouldn't exactly be careful with their shots; they would take down quite everything that moved. Us beaters knew better than to get too close to the hart we were herding their way, but the young Dalish who had been chasing it out of the wilds for three days in a row did not, and she was perhaps too tired and too near to finishing her hunt to take notice. They shot her by mistake, the lords, and we took her in, nursed her back into health. We fell in love, me and her, and we ran off. She thought her clan would welcome us – and they did, until we went and said we wanted to be together. Adaia was promising as a huntress, but had not received her vallaslin; the Dalish could make little use of me; I couldn't hunt, I had no lore, knew no craft, and I could hardly make a living there. So, the Keeper forbade Adaia any fellowship with one such as I, and, seeing that we were relentless in seeking one another still, he had me banished from the clan. When she chose to follow, they renounced her, told her she was of their clan no more. We came to the Alienage in Denerim, where I'd grown as a child, and Valendrian took us in. Kallian was on the way. Adaia never said a word, and I never asked how she felt about giving up her home for me. But she was restless, and always prone to fighting; maybe she hid her bitterness that way. So, what I'm trying to say is this – whatever the two of you may be thinking, don't push such a choice on my little girl. Let her come home, when she needs to."

"She's already made her choice."Soris muttered bitterly.