A/N: Sorry it's so late! I've been really busy lately. I know, you're crushed. I'm not happy at all with this, but I figured I owed you lot an update and it had to be done! Plus. I haven't published anything in months. Sorry for a really boring chapter. Next update will be much quicker, and interesting. I just needed to get all of this out of the way.

Chapter Three
"All that I ask for is one little corner,

One private room at the back of my heart.

Tell her I found one, she sends out...battalions

To claim it and blow it apart.
I grip, and she grips, and faster we're sliding.
Sliding and spilling...and what can I do?"
~ Jamie, The Last Five Years.

Alistair tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
"Daughter?" He repeated. Trija looked slightly uneasy.
"Sal, why don't you go outside and say sorry to Jace?" The elf asked her daughter. Salvia sighed heavily, then turned and galloped out of the door again.

Following shortly afterwards, Trija pushed the ajar door closed, sighing bitterly.
"That poor boy," she breathed to no one in particular "is tortured by her. She's always pushing him into something: mud, puddles, bushes, lakes." Alistair let out a breath of laughter; about as much as his throat would allow. Trija turned to face him and their gazes lingered for longer than was actually needed. Alistair steadied himself. He recalled every thought he had had for her in these past years: every time he had tried to bring her up in casual conversation, every time he had longed to wait for her at the gates of the estate and every time he had imagined her beautiful face. He had not expected her to be so...different. If was if she had read his thoughts.

"Are you...?" He trailed off, uncertain of what he really wanted to say. Glad? Proud of yourself? Angry? Jealous? Regretful?
"Happy?" She offered. He nodded uncertainly. She seemed to mull this over for a minute before deciding.
"Yes. I am." Trija assured. She resisted asking him the same.

"Alistair...a lot has changed. I'm not The Warden to anyone anymore, I'm just...someone's wife, and a little girl's mother. Hardly no one remembers what I've done."
Wife, his mind growled. That's not surprising. What did you expect, a Sister of the Chantry? Her to be expecting you to come here? Fool. Foolfoolfoolfoolfool. Just. Act. Calm. Not like it's anything horrible or unpleasant or terrifying, just a-
"Wife?" Alistair blurted. Surely turning red, he wanted to smack himself in the face.
"Y-yes." She seemed intent on inspecting a small thread dangling from her sleeve.

"A few years ago after I...after I left Denerim, I came here to Highever to live with Soris. He and I came here just expecting to...well, we didn't really know why we came here. I just- felt I needed to. I had to." Five years and all she could mumble was this. She couldn't even meet his eyes.
"Soris met his wife in about a week. I do not think that she was happy with me being an intrusion, but she can be a nice enough woman. He didn't waste much time in testing the taverns around here. I used to nag him about it every night, and when I cornered him one night after we'd been here for a few days, he just decided to bring me along to his favourite tavern. Then I knew why he was sneaking out all the time, to steal a brief glance at Vanessa." She said the name like it was the oddest name in Ferelden.

"A pretty young lass fond of the same taverns. Very coincidental. He followed her around like some droopy-eyed pup; after he actually plucked up the courage to speak to her, of course." She laughed bitterly. "I thought everyone had really gotten used to not asking who I was when Farridan noticed me. He's a writer from Orlais, and he said he recognized me and said he would love to ask me about the whole ordeal."
"He was very charming, really. He didn't need to say much to get- to befriend me. After all we had been through together, I didn't want to leave Soris here with someone I barely knew. I stayed here, and Farridan couldn't convince me to go elsewhere." As the woman finished, Alistair coughed to clear his throat.

"He's not a bad man, Alistair," she stated. "I mean, sometimes he will be off writing his stories, but he always comes back." He still wasn't taking it all in.
"Where is he?" He asked hesitantly. Trija glanced away from him for a moment.
"He's gone North to write for a while. He does that some times, writes on the latest news. I suspect he should be here soon."
Alistair felt his eyebrows raise.
"Oh, then I'll just- leave, didn't mean to-"
"Alistair!" She interrupted his mumblings. "Wasn't there a reason you came here? You didn't just pop in for a visit, did you? Is it trouble?"

He didn't have time to answer her. He was sick of thinking on Orlais. An approaching, booming laugh echoed through the walls in the house. Trija checked her hands. Still shaking. Oh, Maker. She swept her hand across her face and fixed a smile to her face as the door crashed open once more. The booming laughter was now inside, but accompanied by a little giggle.

"Farridan!" Trija cried in shock. Something twinged painfully and heavily in Alistair's stomach before he even knew what was going on. The man stood before them grinning was quite younger than himself, with an air of freedom about him. He seemed tired, yet elated to be home. His brown eyes, matching the deep colour of his hair, danced with laughter and mirth. Trija's daughter Salvia clung to his back in some desperate form of piggyback. The young girl still giggled fiercely.

"Ok," She gasped, out-of-breath. "I want down now, I don't like it up here!" She giggled even more as the young man helped her slide off of his back. He didn't seem to spot Alistair as he strode towards his wife, planting an annoyingly long and generous kiss on her lips. Alistair took to examining a nearby table.

Salvia had been keeping an eye on him ever since he had got there. A strange man, in her house. Her mother didn't tend to have many visitors. She remembered when she was younger, and her auntie Leliana had stayed with them for a few weeks. She thought her aunt was amazing; a gorgeous, fiery-headed woman, and too clever for Salvia to know. She shrugged, charging back outside to find Jace.

"Farridan," Trija spoke. They must be finished, Alistair thought bitterly. "This is Alistair Theirin." The young man's eyes widened, and he swept into a curt bow. Alistair tried to control his inevitable blush. He hated when people bowed.

"Your Majesty--? I didn't know we would be- wow." Farridan gasped, sounding utterly shocked. Trija just chuckled.
"No, no need to be so formal. Alistair and I were friends a few years ago. He's come to discuss politics." Farridan pretended to roll his eyes. Trija dug an unsuspecting elbow into his ribs, grinning to herself.

* * *
They were now sat around the table Alistair had been so intent on examining before. Salvia was perched on Trija's knee, wriggling every so often as her mother tried to untangle her brown hair. Farridan was seated just a few feet from himself, but Alistair was sure to keep himself from being too close him. The man named Farridan had been telling him more on how they had met, but Alistair hadn't really been paying attention to his words. He had focused his attention on Trija. He didn't still love her, did he? He couldn't. Not anymore.

A companionable silence fell as the man finished talking. Salvia still had Alistair under close scrutiny as she leaned forward to him, as much as she could in her mother's lap.
"My mum's an elf, you know." The little girl told him. Farridan burst into booming laughter at this again, Trija smiling to herself. Alistair chuckled.
"Oh, I know."

"Sal, come on; it's late!" A familiar voice called. He could not place it. Before Alistair could remember who it may be, the person who the voice belonged to was shaking his hand enthusiastically.
"Well, the King of Ferelden in a place like this! Cousin, you didn't tell me that we were-"
"No, Soris, I didn't. Because I didn't know." Trija had stood up. Salvia had moved to stand next to Alistair, with wide eyes.

"King?" She murmured. He nodded. "Oh."

* * *
Trija didn't know what to feel right now, as cliché as that sounded. Her eyes rested on her uneasy-looking husband. It was all just a big mess. Alistair was never supposed to come back, and he was never supposed to meet Farridan or Salvia. The reappearance of her cousin had shifted the mood slightly. Soris had agreed to put the young girl to bed that night, but looking around; he realised she was already gone.

* * *
It hadn't taken long for the little girl to grab ahold of Alistair's hand and drag him to the back of the house. Children made him very nervous, he admitted inwardly. This one was no exception.
"Where are we going?" He called to the girl, who had resumed her gigglings. He had been trailing behind her, but she still did not release his hand.
"Here!" She chirped back. They were in a rather plain room. It was not as lavishly decorated as the few he had seen, or rather, caught a glimpse of. It would be almost boring if a child's cradle did not sit to one side.
"This," Salvia announced proudly "is my little cousin. Michael." Alistair peered over the cradle hesitantly. He smiled despite himself, immediately seeing Soris. Alistair heard the noise that came from the front of the house, yet the young girl didn't seem to move.

* * *
She knew that he hadn't been happy. She could tell as soon as he spotted Alistair, the look in his eyes. Soris had left the room awkwardly after Alistair had, noting the tension between the two. "Who is he?" He whispered heatedly.
"I told you; a friend. You would know that if you had tried to come home earlier." Trija's husband just rolled his eyes as he tried to walk away from her.
"Why have you never mentioned this before?" He questioned, running a hand through his hair.
"Because you never asked!" She snapped. Farridan tried to smile calmly.
"Look; it doesn't matter." He said. Trija smiled weakly up at the man, thankful for the calm. He placed two hands on her shoulders lightly, rubbing the flesh there gently.

"You know I have to go again soon, don't you?" He whispered.
Her mouth fell open almost unnoticeably. "You do?" Farridan nodded at her. "I-I thought we had a little time..."
Trija saw his blank face and sighed. "Look, it doesn't matter. If you have to, then you have to." He barely reacted. She felt her calm mood slowly slipping.

"This makes me crazy, the fact that we could actually be together, for the first time in a long time, and you are going to choose to be somewhere else." Farridan opened his mouth to object, but she wouldn't let him. "You could be here, or there; as usual guess which you pick."
"But I have to go if I want to-"
"No, you do not have to leave me alone again." She almost sobbed pathetically. "What will Salvia do without her father again? You could stay with your wife, Maker forbid. And I know that it must drive you crazy that you won't get play with your little girlfriends, since you can't even spend time with your own family." She felt her eyes start to tear up angrily, as she turned her back on him. "Go. As long as you're happy."

She heard him leave her. Shock struck her. They had endured similar arguments before, sometimes ending this way. She placed shaking hands on her cheeks, and swiftly exited the room, allowing the angry tears to run down her face quickly and quietly.