Chapter 46

"Whenever one of the People wronged another, they would not call on Elgar'nan to avenge them, for his fury would destroy all it touched. Mythal saw this bring strife among the People, and went to Elgar'nan; she offered to deliver justice when the People warred amongst themselves. Elgar'nan saw her wisdom and agreed, binding all to abide by her verdicts.

Some petitioning Mythal for justice hid jealousy, accusing those who had done them no wrong. She saw their lies, and struck them down. Others petitioning Mythal for justice burned with wrath for imagined slights. She saw their weak hearts, and struck them down. Those coming to her with clear minds and open hearts were granted judgment and protection, and Mythal harried their enemies until the end of their days."

—story of the elven god Mythal, author unknown

Malcolm

The Dalish did things at hideously early hours, in Malcolm's opinion. He'd put coin on the fact that if Keepers didn't need a goodly amount of light to etch vallaslin, they'd hold the ceremony even earlier. Or maybe it wasn't a Dalish thing so much as it was a Lanaya thing, since Keeper Marethari had done Cammen and Gheyna's vallaslin at a perfectly acceptable hour of the day. Not so for Keeper Lanaya.

He grumbled under his breath as he exited the tent, Líadan right behind him, and then nearly stepped on a sword waiting on the ground right outside the flaps. He squinted at it as he bent down to pick it up, and then recognized it. "There a reason why you left your sodding sword in the way last night?" he asked as he handed it over to its rightful owner.

Líadan's frown was deeper than his as she accepted the sheathed blade. "No. I left this on Emrys' doorstep last night. I figured it would be better off with him, given the possibility of no magic left in me."

It was the sort of gesture Malcolm had been expecting, given Líadan's turmoil about the Dalish and the role they'd played in regards to her bout of Tranquility, but he'd already been surprised that she hadn't done something like burn her Dalish leathers, so he'd assumed the moment for grand gestures had passed. More fool he, it would appear. "You couldn't just ask him?"

The withering look she gave him told him quite a bit. Mostly that his question was stupid and that if he knew her at all he'd know that she and Emrys didn't really talk about the important things. Or the unimportant things. Or at all, really. They talked at each other and past each other, but neither of them particularly listened.

His wife still took some pity on him and clarified. "Leaving the sword was just as much a question as plainly asking."

Not really, but he didn't say that out loud. She was holding a rather sharp sword, after all.

"Either way," she continued, "it seems I'm to keep it."

Since it was early, his mouth got away from him easier than usual. "Exactly how do you know that when you haven't spoken a word to him about it?"

"He wouldn't have given it back, otherwise." And she said it like it was a perfectly normal response in a perfectly normal sort of familial interaction.

Revas gave him a withering look as she stood and shook out her fur, informing Malcolm that he'd asked another stupid question of her master.

He rolled his eyes at both of them. "You both act like it'd kill you to talk about it. Or talk about anything." The conversation Líadan and Emrys had started and stopped the night before had been a step, but like every other time they approached a meaningful discussion of the fraught relationship between them, they retreated. For two relatively fearless people, it was as surprising as it was frustrating.

"Just because my family isn't as chatty as yours doesn't mean we don't talk."

"Actually," said Malcolm, "it means exactly that. You don't talk. Not even in the normal, non-Theirin sort of way. You literally exchanged no words about the sword, but you're certain you know what his thinking on it is."

Her look turned exasperated. "We're just more economical when it comes to communication."

He grunted. "More like you just don't and pretend that you do."

"She does something nasty to you," Nuala said from the opposite side of the fire, morning meal perched on her lap, "I never saw it."

"He has it coming," Morrigan said from next to her. "Anyone would agree that Líadan was provoked."

Scarcely over a day of spending time in each other's company, these three women, and already they'd banded together. Malcolm glanced over at Kennard for some support, but the traitor merely raised both his eyebrows, wordlessly telling him that he'd gotten himself into this mess and he could damn well get himself out. His children were of no help either, blithely running about the camp, half-eaten pieces of bread clutched in their hands as if they'd gotten distracted mid-breakfast. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably true. Revas took the opportunity to chase them, nipping at the bread as if she'd steal it. Though both Cáel and Ava kept tossing glances their parents' way, neither stopped, nor did they say anything in support of Malcolm. And saying nothing, at this point, was tantamount to giving Líadan more support, since she already had numbers on her side.

Yet, he didn't feel bad about it. Not really. Not when she was easily participating in good-natured teasing, the shadow of her former Tranquility chased off by the momentary ability to feel freely. He also assumed that ridding herself of the marred vallaslin had something to do with it, as well. For him, her lack of tattoos was still startling. While he could mentally place the vallaslin almost as soon as he saw her, the initial sight kept surprising him. They had been such an integral part of her that her lack of them approached being more startling than when she'd had the brand stamped over them. For her, however, he could tell it was the opposite. When she'd strolled off with Merrill last night, her face bare, the brand gone, her shoulders had straightened from a drooping he hadn't recognized, as if her body had lessened its hunching in on itself to hide the visible scar from Tranquility. And her shame. Reluctant as he was to name it that himself, it didn't change what she felt, and she'd pretty much admitted it to him the day before. She believed the responsibility partially hers, and not entirely on Meredith's shoulders. He didn't believe the same and he had no idea how he could convince her to see it the same way as he did.

From the direction of the surrounding forest, Merrill wandered into the camp, bright as she always was, and her attention went straight to Líadan. "Have you eaten?" she asked. "You should bring something with you if you haven't, but we need to go prepare."

"Prepare?" asked Malcolm. He'd been told that since Líadan wasn't a child going through the ritual that marked them an adult among the Dalish, she wouldn't need to engage in the typical rituals. Preparation, especially in the way Merrill said it, sounded a lot like ritual.

"'Tis called bathing," said Morrigan. "Perhaps you should consider trying it."

Malcolm pretended he didn't hear Nathaniel's huff of laughter. After six years plus of being Morrigan's only target, Nathaniel had to be thrilled to have some of her verbal ire directed at someone else, anyone else. So he couldn't take it personally. Mostly. But it left him ornery enough that he couldn't keep a clear head, and could only come up with something his brother would say, and probably had said. "You," he said to Morrigan, "are a bad person."

"'Tis sad to see you've fallen to the level of wit your dull-headed brother employs," she said, right as Ariane strolled through the last of the aravels and into their camp just in time to hear Morrigan, and just in time to laugh.

Malcolm swore under his breath. Why did he miss any of these people?

Then he felt Líadan's hand squeezing his own before she whispered, "Don't let her get to you. Besides, that's my job."

If he hadn't known better, and he did even though he might now doubt it a tiny bit, he might've heard jealousy somewhere in Líadan's statement. But when he looked at her, he couldn't see any. Only an almost shy smile, as if suddenly recalling why she shouldn't be as happy as she'd seemed in the past few minutes. Then Merrill tugged at Líadan's other hand, and Líadan let go of his, promising she'd see him after.

"How much longer until the ceremony?" he asked Ariane.

She shrugged. "Quarter of an hour, maybe more. Keepers really want to have good light for this sort of thing."

"Not so for Keeper Marethari." Malcolm nearly winced at the thought of how close Marethari had come to screwing up vallaslin for Cammen and Gheyna. She'd had their ceremony at night, where there would be decidedly not enough light for any rational person.

"Many things were 'not so' for Keeper Marethari," said Ariane.

"True," said Malcolm. "Wouldn't have thought she'd've fallen to a demon, though."

"Overconfidence," said Morrigan. "She believed she could save her former First and the demon took advantage of her blindness to her own faults."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Whereas you're just plain old confident?"

"I am among the first to admit my own faults."

"Since I haven't heard you acknowledge one, am I to assume you haven't any?"

She smirked at him and then walked away, toward the central area of the Dalish camp. Cianán halted in his makeshift game of tag with Cáel and Ava, torn between staying or following his mother. Morrigan noticed his hesitation almost immediately and faced him fully. "You may stay and play, if you wish," she said to him. "And if Nuala agrees to help keep an eye on you."

"I am perfectly capable of watching him," said Nathaniel.

"Are you?" Morrigan lifted a dangerous brow. "Were I to leave him in your care, while he would go physically and emotionally unharmed, he would not go without some life lesson that you deem fit. He has learned enough of your petty thievery and skill with a bow. Nuala, being of sound mind, would not encourage such things. She would encourage play. I did not have such as a child, and neither did you. I have been informed that play with children of an age is beneficial. So, he shall stay and play, if it is his wish."

"I'll watch him," said Nuala.

Nathaniel directed a masked look of frustration at Morrigan, but raised no objections to her statements. Cianán wasn't given a chance to say much of anything, because Ava and Cáel had already piped up with questions about him really knowing how to shoot a bow, if he was any good, if he had a bow of his own, and was it different if a human taught them or a Dalish hunter, and the questions didn't stop. Yet, despite being a child of Morrigan's who possessed a temperament that was much like Morrigan's, the incessant questioning didn't bother Cianán. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, as he had spending time with the other two children since they'd gotten out of the Gallows. Malcolm wasn't even entirely sure the children had really talked about the strange relationships between them, that Cáel and Cianán were twins, yet somehow half-brothers, and how Ava was Cáel's sister but not Cianán's, and yet they acted as if they were.

It was all very confusing to Malcolm, and he was an adult. Meanwhile, the children had seemingly taken it in stride and continued on their way. He had no idea if it was a good thing or not. Did they need to sit down and talk about it? Were they just supposed to let them do their thing and not address it? It seemed like it should be something discussed by the adults involved with the situation, but none of the children seemed particularly fussed. Not in the slightest.

"You don't think it's weird the way they've just gotten along?" Malcolm asked Nuala when she moved to stand next to him. Meanwhile, Cáel and Ava had emerged from the children's tent, bows in hand to show Cianán, with Nathaniel curiously looking on.

"No, not really," said Nuala. "Kids are resilient and surprisingly open-minded. And they've both known about Cianán for ages, and I'm sure Cianán's known about Cáel. Maybe he didn't know as much about Ava, since she was born after Morrigan left. Even so, it's more like meeting a cousin they haven't seen in a while than a cousin they've never met. Or something like that. Just be grateful they get along and that they're really good at distracting one another or we'd be hearing far more questions from their curious little minds."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm very grateful for that."

Only once they were told the ceremony was about to start did the children leave off on their questions and apparent plans to hold a contest between the three of them. Malcolm wasn't sure whether to encourage or discourage them, and ended up settling on a policy of non-interference. If they got to actual fighting—or, Maker forbid, shooting arrows at each other—he'd intervene. Otherwise, they were all mostly reasonable for their ages, and Cianán seemed a remarkably steady child, more so than Cáel and certainly more than Ava.

Ariane led them to where the rest of the clan, aside from the hunters on patrol, had gathered in front of the Keeper's aravel. Líadan and Merrill sat in front of it, with Lanaya sitting to Merrill's left, a tray of various implements and potions beside her.

"I thought she was having Merrill do them?" Malcolm quietly asked Ariane.

She indicated for them to sit in a place toward the back that gave them a clear line of sight to the participants of the ceremony, yet at a polite enough distance to keep them from disturbing the goings-on should anyone get talkative. Ariane had traveled with them enough to know their tendency toward chatter, adults and children both. "She is," Ariane said after they'd all settled on the grass. "The Keeper always has a First assisting, handing them supplies they'll need, and learning the process at the same time. While Keeper Lanaya certainly doesn't need to learn how to do vallaslin anymore, Merrill still needed an aide. So, the Keeper offered, since she was once a First, as were all Keepers." Then she motioned toward the aravel. "Pay attention, or you'll miss them starting."

"There's no ceremony to the ceremony?" asked Nuala. "Is that normal?"

"No, but usually the Dalish in question will be undertaking the responsibilities of adulthood for the time, if they manage to make it through the ceremony. This is different, since Líadan's been an adult for some time."

Nuala nodded. "And she wants to have this be as little a spectacle as possible is my guess."

"Exactly."

Malcolm frowned as he surveyed the growing crowd. He'd caught sight of Panowen, of Cammen and Gheyna and their squirmy three-year-old, but Emrys was nowhere to be found. Wondering if Líadan had noticed, or even cared, he glanced over at her, but her attention was focused on Merrill and Lanaya. Which made a lot of sense, because Malcolm could barely fathom the mental preparation it would take her, or anyone, to be able to sit through the entire thing and not make a sound.

Without any sort of announcement, Merrill started etching the vallaslin as Malcolm watched, and he flinched when the needle-thin knife made its first cut. Líadan certainly did not flinch, nor did she cry out—he would have, without a doubt—and Merrill continued. None of the Dalish around them flinched, Malcolm noticed, but he saw Morrigan twitch out of the corner of his eye. While Nuala didn't flinch, she did sit forward as if to get a closer look at Merrill's work. Nathaniel slightly raised an eyebrow, while Kennard grunted and muttered something about 'the sodding Dalish.' Nuala spared a moment to glare at him, to which he just rolled his eyes—Kennard had certainly gotten more outspoken after weeks spent on a false and fruitless search. Not that Malcolm could blame him, not at all.

The three children had gone absolutely still, their mouths slightly agape as they watched in total fascination.

After Merrill etched a few more lines, Cáel said, "That looks like it hurts."

Ava grimaced and abandoned her seat on the grass in favor of settling in Malcolm's lap.

"It does," said Ariane. "Anyone who says it doesn't is lying."

"But how can she be so quiet?" asked Cáel.

"Because your mother is strong," Morrigan said with finality.

Ariane nodded. "Keeper Lanaya said that she knows of no other Dalish who have undergone this process twice. Bonded to a human or not, having human children or not, not one Dalish alive can rightly say she isn't of the People."

Cáel's expression went briefly dark. "A lot of them say it wrongly, then."

Ariane whipped her head around. "Who?"

Startled by an equal amount of darkness from Ariane's reaction, Cáel retreated, physically shifting away from her. "Only one around here. I was mostly talking about when we went through the Brecilian."

She didn't lose her determination. "Who's the one here?"

"Her grandfather, obviously," Cianán said after Cáel declined to answer.

"Did he say it out loud?" asked Ariane.

Cianán shrugged. "He didn't need to. His actions say everything. He isn't even here now, while everyone else is."

"You are way too observant for a seven-year-old," said Malcolm. He wondered if it was something inborn for him, inherited from Morrigan or the influence of the Old God's soul, or if it was something he'd learned during his time with the ancient elves, or some combination. Either way, it ended with a young boy who caught on to far more than he should at his age. While Cáel was slightly more observant than average, he wasn't near anything to Cianán's ability, not unless he'd been keeping all his observations to himself. And while Cáel wasn't anywhere near as chatty as his cousins, he was too much a Theirin to have kept everything to himself since the moment he'd learned to talk. "Kind of scary, sometimes," he added.

"He is my son," said Morrigan, a declaration of some sort, possibly an implicit threat. No, likely an implicit threat.

Malcolm didn't let a little thing like an unspoken threat to deter him. She wouldn't do anything awful with this many people around, and she certainly wouldn't interrupt Líadan getting her vallaslin. "Like I said, kind of scary," he said.

Cáel looked away from Líadan and Merrill in favor of glancing back and forth between Morrigan and Malcolm. "You two really loved each other once? Because I don't believe it."

Nuala didn't quite mange to smother her laugh.

"Were it not true," said Morrigan, "you would not exist."

Her statement did nothing to allay his skepticism. "Still."

"Not much else to say about it," Malcolm said to him. "Nothing that'll convince you, anyway. Maybe we should just focus on your mother's ceremony." If Cáel wanted to have a more in-depth discussion about it, Malcolm wouldn't deny him, but it wasn't the kind of conversation one had in public.

Cáel's eyes flicked over to Líadan and Merrill, where Merrill had finished one side of Líadan's face and had begun the other. Something seemed off, other than one side of her vallaslin being done and the other not, and then Malcolm realized he didn't recognize the design. Since he'd known it well enough that he could draw it entirely from memory, he knew he wasn't wrong, but he was still confused. He'd assumed she would be getting the same one since the vallaslin was as integral a part of her as, say, her hands.

"That's not the same one she had before," Malcolm said out loud.

Ariane squinted slightly. "No, it isn't."

"Do you usually change the Creator it represents?" He only realized the stupidity of the question after it'd been asked and couldn't be taken back. Obviously none of them had, because Ariane had mentioned only moments before that Líadan was the first known Dalish elf to undergo the ceremony twice.

"This is the first time anyone's had the chance to," Ariane said, and then nothing else, entirely letting go the foolishness of his question.

Malcolm shot her a questioning look when it became apparent that she wasn't going to comment further. He couldn't decipher her expression and he wished he could. Then he'd know if the Dalish in general would be worried about the change in Líadan's vallaslin or not. And he really wanted to know, because he wasn't sure if he should be concerned or not. She'd gone through a whole lot of change lately, was still struggling with the aftereffects of her cured Tranquility, and had already been healed by her grandfather as well as butted heads with him. So he wasn't sure if the vallaslin change was a good step or bad, and while he'd known her last tattoos had represented Andruil, he had no idea about the new ones. The first thing he noted was that they were smaller, judging from the finished side. The completed part looked like a growing branch that started on her cheekbone to curve under her eye before it stretched out to her temple and into her hairline. Compared to her last design, this one was subtle. "What Creator is this one for?" he asked.

"Mythal," said Ariane. "It's a significant shift for a hunter once aligned with Andruil."

"Indeed." Morrigan nodded once at Ariane before she returned her gaze to Líadan and Merrill. "'Tis a curious choice, at first glance. Then it begins to take on clarity. She has not been a Dalish hunter, in the purest sense of the role, for a long time. The Vir Tanadahl is no longer her way of life, much as she once may have wished for it to be. What she has been in recent years is a protector, both as a Grey Warden and as a mother. Taking recent events into account, dedicating herself to the goddess known as the Great Protector and the patron of motherhood makes a great deal of sense."

Malcolm felt a bit better, Morrigan's reasoning of the switch being quite sound. It honestly now made more sense than Líadan keeping the same design, no matter how startling the change would be for a while.

"She feels bad," said Cáel. "I think she thinks us ending up in the Circle was her fault."

"'Tis the fault of many, and she is not one of the many," said Morrigan.

"Feel free to tell her that," said Malcolm. "I can tell her till I'm blue in the face and she won't believe me. Well, she does, but in the sense that she believes that I believe, but she doesn't believe it for herself. And I'm not sure that's a change that can really be influenced from the outside."

Ariane shook her head. "No. This is one she'll have to work out for herself."

"But it isn't her fault," said Ava, sounding as frustrated as her brother had sounded sad.

"And you told her that already," said Cáel. "So did I. Didn't make a difference."

Malcolm sighed, wishing he could help both Líadan and the children understand what was going on. "Sometimes, forgiving yourself is harder and takes longer than waiting for someone else to forgive you."

"Listen to you, being all profound," said Ariane.

"It happens occasionally."

Before Ariane could form a rejoinder, Merrill set aside her tools and grinned at Líadan. As in the beginning, there was no formal announcement at the end. There was no need for it, not when a completed vallaslin like Líadan now had said as much.

Líadan's return smile came in the form of a brightness in her eyes, which only increased when Merrill embraced her. Then Lanaya did the same, holding both of Líadan's hands after she pulled away as they exchanged words Malcolm couldn't hear.

The crowd of Dalish elves dispersed to go about their usual daily activities, with only those who knew Líadan well sticking around to give their own congratulations. While Malcolm chose to hang back, Ava and Cáel wanted nothing of it. They each grabbed one of his hands and then led the charge toward Líadan, bumping into a few people who didn't get out of the way fast enough, Malcolm offering apologies as he continued to let the children lead him. They only let go once they were close enough for one last charge toward their mother, and Líadan was given enough warning that she was able to drop to a knee and catch them.

Ava peered at Líadan's vallaslin closely. "They aren't the same at all."

"No, not really."

"Even the ink is lighter," said Cáel. "Faded, maybe? Looks faded." He held out a finger, as if to touch it, and the mere hint had Líadan drawing back to avoid the potential pain.

Lanaya stepped in before someone could be offended or hurt. "These are your children?" she asked. "You were asleep last night—or were supposed to be—when I met with your parents. We were never properly introduced."

"I'm Ava," Ava said very seriously.

Instead of greeting the Keeper, Cáel narrowed his eyes at her. "You've met me before. Wasn't I born in your clan? Not in your clan, I mean. The general area." He frowned at the clumsiness of his words. "You know what I mean."

And to think Malcolm had once hoped that Cáel would take after Líadan or Morrigan in his talent with the spoken word, but it was becoming clearer that it wasn't to be. You poor boy. You really are my son.

Lanaya knelt down to the children's level to speak with them. "Yes, you were, but that hardly means a proper introduction." Then she stood up and motioned toward the camp. "How about you tell me about yourselves and I'll tell you about my clan, if you want."

Cáel and Ava shot parting smiles at their parents, but happily followed the Keeper. Kennard exchanged a look with Nuala, who gestured for him to go with them. He grumbled about not needing a tour, but went with them nonetheless, dedicated guard that he was. Malcolm recognized exactly what Lanaya had done—given the adults room to talk without fear of children hearing things they might not be ready for. Revas bounded after them after running a circle around her master.

Líadan had straightened as they left, so when Malcolm turned, she was right there. He studied the vallaslin again, and how the skin at the edges of the ink looked red and angry. Rightfully so, really, given what it'd been subjected to. "Does it hurt?" he asked, because while his brother might be the King of Ferelden, he was the king of dumb questions.

Her smile was tight, but genuine. "It stings a bit. However, the process didn't hurt as much as I'd remembered."

"Well, you have gone through childbirth since the first time you had it done."

She briefly furrowed her brow as she thought it over. "I'm not sure if that counts. Anders was very good at making it not hurt, at least the part I was conscious for. The other parts I'd rather not remember in great detail."

"Could be it hurt less this time because your new ones are smaller," said Nuala.

Líadan nodded. "That's probably the likelier of the two."

Since no one else had bothered to ask, particularly since Morrigan had stayed back, waiting until a quieter time to ask her own questions, Malcolm decided he'd ask.

Nuala beat him to it. "Is there a reason why you picked a smaller one?"

Before she answered, Líadan paused long enough to glance in the direction Lanaya had gone with the children. The she took a breath before facing them again. "The Dalish are a much smaller part of my life than they were when I first had them done. I decided my vallaslin should reflect that."

Again, sound reasoning, and Malcolm was surprised by her control. For the past couple of days, it'd felt like she veered wildly between holding onto her emotions so tightly that she strangled them, or they surged so strongly against her hold that they all broke free at once. Predicting when either would happen was difficult, both for her and everyone else. And Malcolm well knew that the loss of control was one thing that terrified and embarrassed Líadan the most.

"Why Mythal?" he asked.

She gave him a look, since clearly if he knew enough to name the Creator when he asked, that he'd know the answer. "I think you can work that one out for yourself."

He rolled his eyes and then pulled her into his arms, wanting her close, if only for a moment, after watching her go through that painful ceremony. Caught off guard, Líadan stiffened in surprise at first, but then relaxed before wrapping her arms around him as tightly as his were around her.

"I'm all right," she whispered to him. Then she sighed. "Better than I was."

Malcolm figured humor would be the best option for now, since they were among several others and Líadan didn't need to sort out her feelings with him while there were witnesses. "It's okay," he whispered, and then pulled his head back enough to look her in the eye, his hands on her shoulders, close to where they met her neck. "I mean, you can tell me if getting those tattoos really hurt. I promise I won't tell anyone."

She made a noise of outrage and pushed him away. Or tried to, because it didn't do more than rock Malcolm on his feet. That had her grumbling while he quietly laughed, and then her own laughter followed after she gave up on giving him an exasperated look.

Hearing it cheered him inside, as if her ability to laugh easier and more often was an indication of her healing in of itself. Maybe it was. Or maybe he felt like he was getting his wife back more than before, and now he was here again in the Ra'asiel camp, but this time with the person he'd missed the most at his side, and he at hers.

Then from a few steps away, Nuala asked, "How long do you think Lanaya will last with those two? I know she's a Keeper and all, and they have practically infinite amounts of patience, from what I've seen, but… well. They're Theirins. They test the patience of the most patient of people."

"If any Dalish could withstand their test, it would be the Keeper." Then Líadan glanced over at Merrill, who'd been watching them with hopeful eyes. "Merrill might be the most able, actually. Keeper Lanaya's a close second, though."

Merrill smiled. "They're not so bad! I haven't a clue why everyone else is exhausted by them."

"One on one, maybe," said Líadan.

"The both of them together is even more fun, lethallan!"

Líadan put an arm around Merrill's shoulders and started for where Lanaya had gone. "If you say so. And since you do, if they get to being too unruly I'm sending them to stay with their Aunt Merrill, wherever you are. Indefinitely."

"Hope you don't intend that a punishment," said Nuala, "because I don't think it would be for either side."

"You don't really want to be separated from them," said Merrill. "I know you don't."

"Not now. Ask me again in six months to see if I've changed my mind."

"And here I was going to say a full year," said Malcolm. Then they rounded a cluster of aravels to find Lanaya near a small clearing where archery targets had been set up. Various apprentices and young hunters took turns shooting at them, mostly ignoring the jabbering human children nearby. Cianán and Morrigan had joined them, Cianán bickering about something with Cáel and Ava as much as they bickered back, while Lanaya and Morrigan discussed Maker knew what. Whatever it was, Malcolm was fairly certain he did not want to know. It was easier that way. "All right," he said once he realized the children's argument showed no sign of waning, "maybe half a year is right."

"They're on about some sort of contest," said Kennard. "Archery." Then he turned to Ava and Cáel. "Since when are either of you archers? Throwing a practice sword at someone doesn't count as archery. It's also a poor tactic and will only leave you weaponless in the end, so don't do it."

"Mamae taught us," said Cáel. "We've even got our own bows."

Kennard raised his eyebrows, still managing to look thoroughly unimpressed. "Do you, now?"

Ava glared at him. "You're making fun of us."

"I would never." Before either child could respond, Kennard switched to Cianán. "And you, young ser? Did a Dalish hunter teach you, as well?"

Cianán jumped a little, as if surprised that Kennard would address him. "No. Nathaniel taught me. I'm not sure how he is compared to a Dalish hunter, but he's pretty good."

"He could have a contest with Mamae," said Ava. "If they haven't had one already. Then we'd know."

"No," Líadan said without breaking from the conversation she and Merrill had joined with Morrigan and Lanaya.

"You should!" said Cáel.

"We shouldn't," said Líadan.

"And we won't," Nathaniel added from where he sat on a nearby tree stump.

It left Malcolm relieved, because he wasn't sure what the outcome would be from an earnest archery contest between Líadan and Nathaniel. Win or lose, it probably wouldn't have been good. And the increasingly curious audience of hunters and apprentices listening but pretending not to wouldn't help matters at all. "What is it with the three of you and contests?" he asked the children after the apprentices ignored his glare.

Nuala scoffed. "You should talk. You and your brothers are far worse."

"She's got you there," said Kennard. "Every time we get a new guard, we have to explain to them how the Teyrn of Highever and Prince Malcolm are, in fact, not trying to kill King Alistair, but merely trying to best him."

"He needs to be put on his ass," said Malcolm. "Someone has to do it."

"Certainly hasn't been you," said Nuala.

Malcolm put his hand over his heart. "Hey! It's a work in progress. I've been practicing, so I might even have a chance next time. The real question is, did Fergus hit him after he found out about the boys?"

Nuala shook her head, not bothering to hide her disappointment. "No. He wanted to, but he's got better manners than you." Then she slid a look toward Líadan and pitched her voice a little louder. "He also doesn't have a wife who would encourage him to do so."

"I only encourage if it's warranted," said Líadan, finally turning around. "It usually is."

"Alistair has not changed then, I gather?" asked Morrigan.

Líadan slowly shook her head in remorse. "No, not so much."

"He has!" Malcolm straightened as he sought to defend his brother, though he wasn't sure why he was defending him. The man hadn't changed his views on his actions regarding the Chantry until his own children were directly affected, and not before, when it had 'only' been his niece. "Sort of. Mention Leliana around him and he turns into post-Blight why-did-you-make-me-king crankypants Alistair. Otherwise, grown up all the way."

Morrigan was unmoved, her arms folding precisely across her chest as an expression of how unmoved she was. "A ringing endorsement."

"You do realize that I know when you mean the opposite of what you say?"

"'Tis amusing either way."

Malcolm was about to ask Morrigan when she planned on leaving, but the sound of Líadan laughing next to him had him rethinking it. Morrigan somehow grounded her in a way he couldn't, and he was hesitant to give voice to a wish for the person providing it to leave. There were others, of course, like Ariane and Nuala. Then there was Merrill, who didn't tease him like the others, because she was nice. It was disconcerting to think that the blood mage amongst them was the nicest.

Former blood mage. There was that.

Matters didn't improve when Panowen visited, her daughter joining the three human children after introductions were made. Cáel, however, remained behind for a moment, puzzled at Panowen's indication that it wasn't the first time they'd met.

"How do you know me?" Cáel asked.

"She was your nurse before I was," said Nuala as Panowen tried to decide on an answer.

Cáel grinned, a grin Malcolm was familiar with, because he used it himself on many occasions. It worked even when people called him on it, the same as it did for Cáel. "Thank you," he said to Panowen.

Morrigan lifted an eyebrow at Malcolm. "I see that you did teach him manners."

"No, that was Líadan and Nuala." Then he frowned as he thought it over, not sure if the answer had been true.

Líadan amended his statement for him: "Actually, mostly Nuala."

"Then I give you my thanks," Morrigan said to Nuala.

"Someone had to teach them," she replied.

As if drawn by the lightheartedness of the small, impromptu gathering, Cammen found them, Gheyna with him, carrying little Tamlen. Líadan and Merrill both let out delighted squeals unbecoming of Dalish anything and immediately pulled the two other remaining Mahariel into hugs. While the adults were fine with it, Tamlen was not. He immediately set to squirming, practically wriggling his way out of Gheyna's arms and onto the ground. After a couple futile attempts at keeping him restrained, Gheyna sighed and let him go. He immediately tore off to where the other children had started setting up some game in the small adjacent clearing where targets were stacked and ready but not in active use.

"We named him Tamlen," Cammen said to Líadan. When she didn't reply, some of his old hesitance returned. "I hope… I hope that was all right. We just thought it would be good, for him to be remembered, and—"

"No, no," said Líadan. "It's fine. Good. It's a good name. I'm glad you picked it." As she watched little Tamlen be welcomed by the older children, she seemed to emerge from the dark, troubled memory of her best friend. Under the freshly etched vallaslin, she was bright and happy. While Malcolm felt better on seeing it, he couldn't help but wonder when it would get too bright and too happy, and then send her into an uncontrolled spiral. Ascent or descent, both meant for bad results, and they couldn't be prevented.

"And the last generation of the Mahariel finally play together," Lanaya said as the older children welcomed the younger one.

Líadan didn't look away from the children as she said, "Only one of them is an elf, Keeper."

Lanaya gave her a kind smile that she did not see. "Yet, born and unborn, they all carry the best of the Mahariel with them." Her words carried her smile, and Líadan's shoulders lifted, her burden lightened a little more.

The rest of the day passed without sight of Emrys, which surprised Malcolm. With how adamant Emrys had always been regarding Líadan remaining one of the People, it should've been a given that he would witness her regaining their customary tattoos. Yet, he didn't appear until evening, once children and adults alike had begun to wind down from the day's activities.

Some of the children, however, hadn't wound down enough, because as soon as Emrys came close to the fire, Ava was on her feet and marching up to him.

Malcolm groaned quietly, but did nothing to intervene. While he wasn't in a particular mood for a bit of a showdown, Emrys deserved whatever he got from her.

"I haven't properly introduced myself," Emrys said as she approached, his tone far kinder than Malcolm had ever expected. "I am—"

"I know who you are," said Ava, no hint of fear in her voice as she stopped right in front of him and glared upward. "You're Keeper Emrys of the Suriel, and you're my great-grandfather."

Emrys stared for a moment, astonished at such forthrightness from a small child, but recovered quickly enough, as he always did. "I am."

"Well, you should apologize."

His eyebrows lifted, but then he inclined his head. "Then I offer it to you."

Ava shook her own head. "No, not to me. I'm fine. You owe Mamae an apology."

Emrys' eyebrows shot higher. "I have already given her one."

"Not that one. You owed her one before it. If you never give it, she can't like you, even though you're her grandfather."

"Creators," Líadan said under her breath, yet she made no move to intervene, either. She did give Malcolm a look telling him that it was his fault Ava was like this.

She's your daughter, he mouthed back.

Nuala had buried her face in her arms, shaking with laughter. Merrill had put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Morrigan did nothing to hide her amusement. Unlike the adults around them, the children didn't find the humor. Cianán seemed puzzled, while Cáel scowled.

"That…" Emrys said, and then lapsed into silence as he sought a workable answer. "That is an apology for another time. I have offered what I can in what might be heard. For now, I can do nothing more."

Ava kept her back and shoulders straight, not done with her confrontation. But she gave Líadan a questioning look, to which Líadan replied with a short shake of her head. Time to move on. In answer, Ava's scowl matched her brother's before she turned to Emrys again. "Are you going to be my teacher?"

"Yes. You require one and I am the only one available. And you…" Emrys paused to let out a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh as he cast a brief look toward Líadan and then returned to Ava. "And you are my great-granddaughter, so it is my place to teach you, regardless."

"Oh," said Líadan, "you said it out loud. Progress, I believe it's called."

This time, Emrys' sigh was obvious, but he didn't take up the fight. "There is something I do not understand," he said to Ava. "You have not been troubled by malevolent spirits, and yet Feynriel and I have been unable to render our protection for weeks. How did you manage?"

"That was me," said Cianán.

"Ah." Emrys' eyes lit in recognition. "You are a Dreamer. I thought I had seen you before. You are young to have such strength and control, yet I must extend my thanks for your kindness in looking after my great-granddaughter."

Malcolm had thought the first time Emrys had said it to be a calculated move, and after hearing Emrys use it a second time, sounding so natural, he wasn't so sure. Then he was. Then he wasn't and he really wished Emrys wasn't so sodding confusing all the time.

Cianán had moved from puzzled to bewildered, as if he couldn't fathom someone not doing as he'd done for Ava. "I had to. She's my brother's sister. I had to help, but you are welcome."

Cáel gave his half-brother a small, grateful smile that disappeared nearly as soon as it'd appeared.

With that, Nuala stood up and began to herd the children, Cianán included, to bed in their tent. Once the children had gone, Emrys turned to Líadan. "Keeper Lanaya mentioned to me that your magic hasn't been restored, even though you are no longer one of the Eradin."

"I haven't been able to summon anything," Líadan said, presumably after she worked out what Emrys meant with the unfamiliar Elven word.

He frowned. "Does it feel strange? When magic goes missing, such as from a smite, there is an emptiness. Is it not there?"

"No, not…" She shrugged, seemingly unbothered at the loss now that she'd been freed from Tranquility and then freed from the brand. "Nothing feels empty. If there was an empty space, something else was put in its place."

Emrys didn't seem reassured in the least, his look briefly turning toward the flames as he mulled over the new information. After a long while, he raised his head. "I will find the spirit who helped you and ask. Finding it may take some time, but I will do so nonetheless. I do not like mysteries, and I would have an answer."

Malcolm couldn't stop his comment from coming out. "And yet here you are, practically the walking embodiment of mystery."

Emrys narrowed his eyes at him, but in recognition of his own hypocrisy, said nothing more on the matter. Instead, he resumed ignoring Malcolm and walked toward Líadan. Then he crouched in front of her, extending a hand toward her temple. "I see that you chose Mythal," he said, not touching the fresh lines of the tattoos. A strain of relief had manifested in his voice, as if he'd dreaded what Líadan would choose for her vallaslin's design. "I believe you chose wisely."

She tilted her head to the side, as puzzled as Cianán had been a short time before. "What do you mean?"

"Mythal is…" Emrys paused, measuring his words more so than usual. "If one must make a choice, Mythal is the better."

Líadan, despite her curiosity, remained dubious regarding Emrys' motives. "If Mythal's the better choice, why do you have Elgar'nan's?"

To his credit, Emrys did not entirely avoid an answer. "That is a long story. Suffice to say, as with many young elves, once I realized my mistake, it was too late to serve a different patron. It seems it will not be the same for you, da'len. This is good. Mythal, above all, will not lead you astray."

She still wasn't convinced. "And just what was wrong with Andruil?"

He studied her for a moment, and then stood up and offered his hand. "Not here. Walk with me."

Líadan appeared absolutely perplexed, but she still took her grandfather's hand and followed him.