Chapter 35! I'm sorry for making you wait! I actually haven't been home for the past 2,5 week! But I have a couple of days now where I actually have time, so I'll be posting again!

Thank you all – again. I adore you!

Also, I adore Alistair xD Mygod, I adore Alistair xD Have y'all played dragon age origins? If not, you totally should xD And by totally should I mean OH MY GOD GO PLAY IT IMMEDIATELY!

Disclaimer: I swear it's not mine. No matter how much I want it to be.

-o-

Chapter 35 – Stop Waiting

"I made lemonade and sandwiches for the King of Ferelden today," Hermione said later that night, in the darkness of the bedroom. "He ate three sandwiches and drank four glasses of lemonade."

Solas chuckled. "Did you, truly?"

Hermione chuckled as well. "I did. No one was here when he arrived, and I panicked. It worked out rather well, though."

"I wonder," Solas said after a moment, "if this might be the reason for why our Ambassador seemed rather distressed today?"

"That might have something to do with it, yes," Hermione replied with a mirthful voice. "I don't think she knew whether she should kill me or kiss me."

"None of the above, preferably," The Dread Wolf said as he pulled her close and kissed her forehead, "because I rather like being the only one allowed to kiss you."

Hermione chuckled. "I rather like that as well," she said, but then paused for a moment. "Solas?"

"Yes?"

"Am I rushing you?"

"What do you mean, Lethallan?"

"I didn't even ask, I just declared 'we are moving', and I realise – in hindsight – that I might have rushed you. You've been…quiet."

"Have I?"

Hermione nodded, even if he couldn't see it in the dark room. "Yes. And I don't quite know what to make of it."

"You are worried," Solas said after a small eternity, "that I am silent because I am uncertain whether this is what I want."

"Basically, yes."

"You are wrong, vhenan," Solas said, softly, "I am not silent because I am uncertain. I am silent because… Well, because I am waiting for my luck to run out. I never expected to find myself happy, Lethallan, and I certainly did not expect happiness to be handed me on a plate, so to speak."

"So you don't regret this?"

"I do not."

"Well," Hermione said, softly, "that's a relief. As for luck? Stop waiting. Live your life instead. It's like drinking a glass of fine wine, but you don't even realise how wonderful it tastes, because all you think about is that the glass will be empty soon. No one knows what will happen tomorrow. All we can do is cherish what we have, and do whatever we can to keep it that way. It's better to have lived life to the fullest than to look back and regret the things you didn't do, the chances you didn't take."

Solas was quiet for a time before speaking again. "Tell me about your life, Hermione."

"What?" she asked, puzzled. "I mean; of course I can do that, but why the sudden question?"

He seemed to think for a moment. "Your wisdom is beyond your years, Lethallan. Your life has made you who you are. Tell me about it."

It was strange that he asked, in a way, because it felt like these were things he would already know. Because when she arrived here, she already knew him.

But he didn't know you, she thought, and contemplated where to begin.

"I never fit in," she began, "not until I learned what I really was."

-o-

Hermione felt surprisingly refreshed the next morning as she walked up the stairs, looking for Fiona. She had slept for barely an hour, because she had ended up spending the whole night telling Solas about her life. He had asked countless questions, resulting in her barely getting to the part where she began Hogwarts.

She shook off her thoughts when she found Fiona sitting at a table in the mage tower, reading a book. Quickly casting a silence spell around them, Hermione sat down.

Fiona looked up at her, and Hermione instantly realised the elf knew exactly what Hermione was about to say. "Yes, I'm here to talk about that. You have heard about our visitor, I suspect?"

Fiona nodded. "I have. Have you…spoken to him?"

Hermione nodded, and Fiona's eyes widened, resulting in Hermione shaking her head instead. "I have spoken to him, but I haven't told him anything. Well, I told him who I am, actually, but I didn't mention you, nor anything related to his mother. I told him about Kieran, however. He would have found out within the end of the day, after all."

"I caught a glimpse of him," Fiona almost whispered, "last night."

Hermione cocked her head, gazing at the mournful woman. "You should tell him."

Fiona shook her head vigorously. "No. No, I can't. It's too late. He would never forgive me. I don't deserve his forgiveness. I don't want to cause him any more pain."

Hermione sighed. "I understand what you mean, Fiona, but what if you're wrong? It probably won't be easy for him to forgive, but what if – with time – he would? What if he would like to know, if it was his choice?"

Fiona shook her head again. "I cannot make myself do that to him."

"I could do it," Hermione said softly, "I could talk to him, explain why. Perhaps he would surprise you?"

Fiona shook her head again.

-o-

Hermione was nervous beyond belief when she went in search for Alistair a while later.

Fiona had agreed.

And Hermione prayed this wouldn't turn out to be a terrible decision.

-o-

The King agreed to talk to her if there were sandwiches involved, and Hermione chuckled as Alistair sat down in her kitchen again.

She made him two sandwiches, and one for herself, and then she sat down with him.

"I have no idea how you will react to this," she began, resulting in a sceptical look from the king. "Hopefully I'm making the right decision by telling you this."

"Well, that sounds…ominous."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I suppose it does." Shaking her head, she continued. "What if I told you your mother wasn't a serving girl in the castle?"

The sandwich was instantly forgotten. "Pardon?"

"What if I told you your mother was, in fact, someone completely different, but that the circumstances made it impossible for her to keep you?"

-o-

Half an hour later or so, Alistair was sitting in Hermione's kitchen, looking like a storm cloud.

"They never end, do they? The lies."

Hermione gave him a sad look. "I don't think they do, quite frankly."

He actually looked a little surprised. "Why do I get the feeling you are speaking from experience?"

"Life isn't fair," Hermione said with a small shrug, "all one can do is make the best of it, I suppose." Pausing for a moment, she gazed at him. "Would you rather that I didn't tell you? If you got to choose?"

Alistair gazed at her for a very long moment. "No," he eventually said, quietly. "I would rather know. Where…where is she? If she is alive? What is her name?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment before deciding on just being blunt. "She is in the mage tower, and her name is Fiona. Grand Enchanter Fiona."

"WHAT?"

-o-

Alistair didn't have time to make up his mind on whether he wanted to talk to his mother and his son, because later that day he was called away on urgent business.

He had, however, asked if he could write, and if Hermione would write him. Hermione had, of course, agreed. She had given the king quite a lot to think about after all.

The King of Ferelden is my pen-pal, she thought as she brushed her teeth that evening. Isn't that just ridiculous.