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My version of Alistair's life from birth to the moment he meets the Warden at Ostagar. |
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An Unexpected Burden “I can’t raise him,” she had said quietly. Maric looked down on the bundle in his arms, wondering at the immensity of what she had asked of him. To find a safe place for him was the least of the problems that he would have to consider. Who, how, and where? The child stirred in his sleep and made quiet mewling noises. Something inside of Maric told him that it would soon be feeding time. The first obstacle to be faced. “He…he is nursed?” he asked Duncan. “Yes, he is. Fiona handled the matter herself though. We shall have to find a wet nurse and soon,” was the reply. Maric handed the baby to Duncan who began to slowly jog him up and down in his arms in a soothing yet somehow much-practiced manner. Maric smiled at the big warrior’s prowess, “Not the first time you’ve done that, I see,” was the remark. Duncan gave the king a small but understanding smile and nodded, “I am the eldest of eight children, your majesty. Not the first time indeed.” Both men laughed quietly at this so as not to disturb the subject of their discourse. Maric walked to a nearby table and rang the small bell that sat on it. A nervous and tired-looking elven servant entered the room and bowed. “What can I do for your majesty?” he said. “I have a task for you that will require the utmost secrecy. Who do you recommend among the castle staff? “was the request. “I would be happy to take care of the matter myself, sire. On matters secret, I am most experienced.” His utterance caught Maric by surprise but he kept his composure. Maric raised himself up to his full height and marshaled all his kingly power while addressing the elf, “I am need of a woman who can act as wet nurse for this child and I will need her quickly. He will soon be hungry. I do not care who she is but that she be clean and discreet. No one can know that the child is here.” “I believe I know of such a woman within the household, your majesty. She recently gave birth and has no trouble with the nursing. Does it matter that she is an elf?” asked the servant tentatively. The king considered this for a moment and replied, “No, I don’t suppose it does if the milk is good. Have her brought immediately.” He turned to walk back across the room to where Duncan stood, rocking the child. The servant bowed and turned to leave when Maric suddenly called out to him, “What is your name ser?” The elf stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face his king, a moderately frightened look on his face, “I am called Falan, your majesty. I am assigned to the general household staff, night duty. Before that I was a messenger for Teryn Loghain’s steward but an unfortunate incident made me unfit to continue serving him in that capacity.” “And just what was that unfortunate incident, ser?” asked Maric. “I refused to deliver a message on the steward’s behalf, sire.” Maric’s curiosity deepened, “Why? What did it contain?” Falan was over-hesitant so Maric repeated the question again. After a few moments, he replied, “It was an invitation to the Antivan Crows, your majesty. A job offer.” “Who was the target?” Maric’s question was demanding. “You sire,” was the quiet answer. “I see. Thank you for your honesty, Falan. Please see to my request.” With that response the elf turned and nearly ran from the room, leaving Maric and Duncan alone with the child. Maric returned to Duncan’s side and looked down at his sleeping son. He noticed a shiny object caught in the folds of the swaddling cloth. Carefully he pulled the item out to discover it was an amulet of Andraste. The same one he remembered Fiona wearing in the Deep Roads. Running his fingers along the carved surface, he thought fondly of the woman who had given this to her son and then given him up. He replaced it as carefully as he had removed it; the child would need it more. The mewling noises were becoming louder as the child began to rouse from sleep. Maric stroked the baby’s hair with an uncharacteristic tenderness, thinking suddenly of Rowan and how she would do the same for Cailan as a babe. Some wounds could not be healed. Duncan looked at the king and admired his tact and deportment during this time. He had learned during their time together that while a he was a kind and pleasant man, Maric was also moody and often what Duncan considered heartsick. He had not had a joyful life and was not happy in his duties as king of Ferelden, but he performed those duties nevertheless, with skill and without much complaint. He was a man who knew who and what he was. Moments later, the door to the room opened and Falan entered with a young elven woman who carried a small bundle with her. He approached the king and bowed, motioning for the girl to come forward where she curtsied before Maric. “Your majesty, may I present Terena,” Falan announced. Maric looked at the girl and noticed the bundle she carried with her was a child, not much older than his son. “You have milk, girl?” he asked. Terena stuttered her reply, “Y…yes, your majesty, enough to spare. Shall I feed him now?” “Of course,” said Maric, “First things first.” Terena handed her child to Falan and walked to where Duncan stood. He handed her the child and led her to a nearby chair where she sat and began to prepare herself. Duncan, aware of her insecurity in a room full of men turned the chair away from the group to allow for some privacy. “Thank you ser,” she said quietly and began her duty. The others retreated to the opposite side of the room to converse away from the girl. “Who is she to you?” Maric asked the elf. “My only daughter, sire. Her husband is a bowman with the Teryn’s armies. He is away on a mission,” Falan said. “I cannot stress enough the delicacy of this matter, Falan. The child’s very existence must be kept secret for his own safety if nothing else. I will hold you personally responsible if I find that you have deceived me in this,” Maric imparted. His gaze turned toward the girl sitting with his son. “I would not like to see others pay for your actions.” Falan’s face grew very pale and his already large eyes grew larger and he nodded in agreement. Clearly the entire situation terrified him, just as Maric hoped it would. Terrified men were cooperative men, a lesson he knew too well. “I understand your majesty well. I shall consider this a blood oath, and will not violate those terms,” was the reply. “Agreed. I shall need you to see to the child’s welfare for a few days. Duncan, have the girl, Terena, taken somewhere for safekeeping. Any suggestions?” Duncan thought a moment, “He is the son of a Warden; we shall insure his safety at our compound. That way he does not have to leave the security of the palace grounds.” Maric nodded at the suggestion, “Excellent. Make up whatever story is convenient to explain their presence. Falan, your daughter will accompany Duncan and the child to the Grey Warden compound.” Falan shifted his grandchild to his other shoulder and faced his king, “What of her own child, sire?” “Her child may accompany her. In the meantime, where shall we send him? He must go where he can live a good life with a family. I’ll not see him become a chantry charge.” “Perhaps in the Bannorn, sire. There, many lords will do this service for you or would be honored to,” suggested Duncan. “Yes, and hold it over my head every chance they got too,” Maric mused. “It must be someone who has something to lose or gain that will override any thoughts of using the child against me. That person would have the child’s welfare at heart as well as their own.” “It sounds as if you have someone in mind, your majesty,” Duncan said. Maric suddenly grew quiet and looked over to where Terena was finishing up with his son. ‘The right person,’ he thought and began to pace back and forth pensively. He stopped and turned to the two men standing a short distance away. The look on his face spoke volumes as he regarded them. “I know just the man,” was all he said. And the wheel turned. |
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