Chapter 71: Forgiveness

I left Tomas pouring over his maps, and continued on my way to find Alistair; after clearing the main hall, and stealing some bread, cheese, and another apple from a passing servant, I headed up towards his room. As I walked down the hall, munching on my snack, I heard talking; I paused just outside of Theron's open door. He was talking quietly with Blake, and I eavesdropped for a few minutes.

"This is the letter A. Each letter makes a sound; this one can either sound like 'ahh' or like 'ay'. For example, apple, or make."

"Like eight?" Blake asked, and I grinned. I'd asked the same question once, in school, as I recalled.

"Um, not exactly. It sounds the same, but sometimes other letters in a combination can make the same sounds. Eight is spelled with the letters E and I. When you put them together, they sound like 'ay'. It's a bit confusing, isn't it?"

I could practically hear Blake scratching his head. "Okay, if you say so," he replied dubiously.

"Let's try the next one. Letter B. It's less confusing."

"How do you know what order they go in?"

"You just have to remember. You'll get it eventually."

I turned the corner, finally having something to add to the discussion. "There's a song, actually. It makes it easier to remember." I smiled softly at Theron, and he flushed slightly. Blake bounced off his chair to hug me.

I spent ten minutes teaching the alphabet song to both Theron and Blake; it was sort of cute watching a full grown man fumble his way through something every first-grader could do back on Earth. I took my leave, not wanting to disrupt their lessons, no matter how adorable it was to watch Theron try to teach; I was convinced, though, that I'd done the right thing for Blake. And I thought it just might be good for Theron, too.

I finally reached Alistair's room; I listened at the door, and heard soft snoring. Evidently Alistair had decided to have a nap. I crept into the room, trying to be silent, glad he'd left the door unlocked. He was fast asleep, lying spread-eagled on his belly, wearing just a pair of trousers. Sunlight poured through the open window, and his sandy-blond hair looked almost golden; his face was angelic, matching the golden halo nicely. And on his bedside table, sparkling in the light, was a miniature Ironman figurine.

Not wanting to wake him – Maker knew we both needed sleep, after our ... exertions, the night before – I tiptoed to the edge of the bed and crawled onto it. I carefully climbed up to lay beside him so I could see his face; he stirred, briefly, wrapped one arm around my waist to pull me closer, and dropped back to sleep without a word. I watched him for a while, admiring his regal features and bronze skin, allowing my fingers to trail softly over the arm that held me; in that moment, I felt content, and even confident, in a way I'd never felt before. We had come through the fire, he and I, and we had made it. Never again would we take each other for granted. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, cuddled into his embrace.

I woke a while later to find him staring down at me, a warm smile on his face.

"Maker, how I've missed this." He leaned in for a kiss.

I thought about making a smart comment, but couldn't. I returned his smile dreamily. "Me too."

"I sleep so much better with you here. Fewer nightmares. It's odd."

"Works for me. We'll just stick together, and we'll be fine."

"I can handle that." He grinned. "So ... when do you want to admit to everyone that we're..."

"Back together? No need. Maybe Eamon doesn't know, though I wouldn't guarantee that; everyone else does. Teagan saw us last night, and apparently we weren't very good at keeping straight faces at breakfast this morning."

"Andraste's ass, I'm sorry Sierra. I know you wanted to wait."

It hadn't occurred to me how he might take such a sentiment until he said it out loud. "Only because I thought I should warn Aedan before he tries to kill you for taking liberties. Not because I don't want people to know. I'm not ashamed of us."

He blushed. "I didn't ... right, um. Thanks."

I kissed him again, but before it could turn into anything more serious, my stomach rumbled, and I winced. "I mostly missed lunch, and I think it's almost supper, based on the light. I think we'd better get up before I'm forced to gnaw my own arm off."

He laughed. "Your desire is my command, my dear." I punched him lightly, and he cried out dramatically. "Hey! I bruise easily, you know."

"Then consider it me marking my territory. Now get moving, buster. My stomach waits for no man."

I climbed out of the bed, smoothing my dress and running fingers through perpetually tangled hair; he shrugged into a tunic – it's a shame to cover all those muscles! – and declared himself ready. I took a deep breath, reached out for his hand, and headed into the hall.

We walked down to the main hall hand-in-hand, me skipping along to keep pace with his long legs. I didn't mind, though – I really was hungry. Eamon's eyes widened when we entered the hall together, but he kept his thoughts to himself; Isolde wasn't so clever. She shot me an exceptionally dirty look before turning towards her husband and saying something. I couldn't catch it all, but I heard the word 'bastard' in scathing tones. I tensed up, contemplating my escape route if I flew across the table and scratched her eyes out; Alistair, seeming to sense my aggravation, put his arms around my waist and held me back.

"It isn't worth it, Sierra. You'll never change her mind, and only cause problems for Theron, and for the Grey Wardens. Let it go."

I slumped, leaning back against him. "I hate that bitch. I swear, one day..."

He escorted me to the far end of the table, as far from Eamon and his wife as possible. Leli grinned at me, waggling her eyebrows as I sat beside her and Alistair squeezed between us. I blushed, and heard her musical giggle peal out. Morrigan rolled her eyes, and I shrugged slightly; I could tell her scowl wasn't really real, though. Theron's smug smirk made me want to smack him, but I kept it to myself. No one else mentioned anything, and soon we were all too busy eating to think much of it.

After supper we retired to the library and spent the evening gabbing; Teagan joined us, and was a welcome addition, though he wouldn't quite look me in the eye. Eamon did not, to my relief. I wasn't sure if he just wasn't into social interaction, was still recovering from Jowan's poison, or was avoiding us for fear of my (or Theron's) reaction.

Alistair and I confirmed we were back together, not that anyone was surprised. Leliana squealed with delight before admitting that she didn't think I'd ever manage to learn to forgive him.

I blushed and shrugged. "Everyone has to grow up eventually, I guess." I snuggled closer to Alistair and hid my face; he kissed the top of my head, and I decided I just didn't care what anyone else thought.

After a few hours of chatting, everyone slowly headed to bed. Theron stayed back, and motioned to me to stay as well. Alistair, as expected, stayed with me, unwilling to allow me to be alone with his half-brother. I'm going to have to explain that I forgave him, too...

We sat, awkwardly, Alistair and I sharing a couch, Theron sitting in a nearby chair. No one made eye contact, and we just sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.

Finally Theron cleared his throat. "Thank you both for staying. Alistair, I've wanted to talk to you, but I didn't really know where to start. I..." He trailed off.

Alistair, startled to be addressed directly, groped for something to say. "Your Majesty, you don't have to say anything."

Theron cut him off before he could continue. "Yes, I do. And please, you're my brother. I think we can dispense with the titles, don't you?" Alistair nodded, reluctantly, and Theron continued. "I just want to say that I had no idea you existed. I suppose I should have known it was possible, but our father never told me. He probably knew what my reaction to it would have been; I'd have pestered him mercilessly to acknowledge you and bring you to the palace. I assume he had reasons for not doing so, but I doubt I'd agree with any of them.

"And even if he couldn't acknowledge you, to leave you with Eamon ... I'm sorry, Alistair. Our father owed you a thousand apologies; I just wish I'd known about you sooner. I might have been able to get you away from the Chantry sooner, or something. I was never angry to discover I have a brother, just angry I'd never been told."

Alistair's expression was a priceless mix of shock and discomfort, with a little bit of pain and bitterness peeking through. I wrapped my arm around his waist in a silent show of support. Theron just waited patiently while he collected his thoughts.

"I've been told my mother forced Maric to promise never to acknowledge me, though I didn't know that until recently. I'd never even spoken to the man. I don't expect anything from you, and believe me, I have no designs on your throne. I can't even tell you how glad I am personally that you survived Ostagar. I'd be a terrible King."

"I have it on good authority," Theron shot me a small smile, "that you'd actually make an excellent King, whether you believe it or not. Probably better than I've been, if I'm honest. I am also glad to have survived, so I can try to atone for my mistakes in the past. These last few months ... well, like Sierra said, I guess everyone has to grow up sometime.

"My point is, I'm not threatened by you. Honestly, if you wanted the job and I thought you could do it, I'd hand over the crown in a minute. But seeing all the things I've done wrong so clearly since Ostagar ... I want the chance to fix it. To be the man I would like to think I'm capable of being. And I was sort of hoping I might have a brother by my side for some of it."

Alistair looked dumbfounded, and even I was in shock. Who is this man, and what did he do to Cailan?

"Your Ma ... Cai ... Theron," Alistair finally managed to spit out, "I am..."

"You're a Grey Warden, and I understand that. I'm not asking you to give it up. And you're probably not really thrilled with me, either. All I'm asking is that you give us the chance to get to know one another, the way we should have since childhood, and that maybe, if you find me worthy, we could be ... friends. Support each other, or something. I could use someone I can trust, and I think I can trust you. And you've clearly won the heart of this lady, which speaks volumes about you as well. Will you at least think about it?"

Alistair agreed, and Theron slipped out of the library to leave us alone.

"Well that was..."

"Not what you expected?" Alistair shot me a look, and I grinned. "What? I didn't exactly have time to tell you that he and I have spoken a bit in the last few days. He's not at all what I thought he was."

His expression was clouded. "And just what is he, then?"

It occurred to me, then, what the problem was. "Okay, now that's sort of cute."

"What is?"

"You're jealous."

"The King of Ferelden wants you as his mistress; Maker, yes, I'm jealous."

I slid closer to him on the couch, taking his hand. "He can want whatever he likes. It doesn't change the fact that I'm yours." I turned and cupped his cheek, pulling him to face me. "Only yours."

He kissed me softly, then leaned back with a sigh. "I know."

"Besides, he's not actually the drooling lecher I thought he was."

"The maids gossiping around the castle would indicate otherwise," he said, drily.

"Oh, I don't doubt he sleeps with anyone in a dress who says yes ... but he wouldn't pressure someone who said no. I just don't think anyone ever had said no before. He had no practice at accepting it gracefully. He apologised sincerely for his behaviour. I believe him. And he defended me, against Isolde and Eamon both. I'd probably be in the dungeon right now if he hadn't interceded on my behalf."