No words were exchanged as they climbed a short hill to reach a cottage overlooking the Waking Sea.

  Their Hessarian escorts led them to the rickety door then left to return to their posts. It wasn't until they stepped into the modestly (and less mage-like) living area that Alistair truly saw the woman.

  She stood before a roaring kiln near the back wall, ridged and upright. Her simple and long dark green mage robes were stained with scorchmarks, but she kept her composure. Yet her dark short hair was slightly ruffled from the fight. Like most elves, she had a youthfulness to her age, but the lightness of her green eyes was a dullish tone and held the weariness of time.

  "Would you like to take a seat?" She gestured to a chair near the kiln.

  Alistair frowned when he detected her accent. "You're from Orlais?"

  This fact sent his head spinning with confused thoughts, which were trying to piece together a reality that his father, the mighty King of Ferelden, had a tryst with an Orlesian mage. It was becoming too much for him. So, yes, he needed to take that seat.

  He eased into it and took out his flask, taking a swig of spirits to, well, calm down his spirit that was in a flurry.

  "Yes. I was born in Orlais, but I've lived in many places since." She decided to ease into the adjacent arm chair.

  Alistair's mind was still catching up with a reality rapidly evolving before him. The fear of his identity house of cards falling was truly happening within him, and he couldn't stop the collapse. Yet...

  "Are you truly Grand Enchanter Fiona?" He kept his eyes on the floorboards as he asked, his body tense as he waited for confirmation.

  "I'm just Fiona now."

  "The leader of the Mage Rebellion?"

  "I was."

  Alistair took another swig until the flask was empty and his cheeks were flushed. He stowed it and decided to face her. His mouth moved with words, but nothing came out as he wasn't sure what to say next.

  Fiona sat on edge, with hands clasped tightly before her. Her fingers twitched with a mother's want, but she kept them firmly locked in place.

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  So many words turned over in Alistair's head, he felt logic wasn't going to cut it. He decided to blurt out the first thing that would come out of his mouth without thinking.

  "Why?"

  Fiona looked confused.

  Alistair heaved a sigh. "I'm in my thirties, you had plenty of time to..." Tears welled in his eyes. "Why didn't you come to find me?"

  She couldn't hold back her tears. Anri had given her this chance, despite saying she didn't deserve it. If Alistair came all this way to find her, she had to be honest with him.

  "I was frightened that you would be harmed by association."

  "Association? Do you understand what I went through?! Arl Eamon lied to me! The whole Ferelden monarchy treated me like I was a joke." Alistair's face contorted with a mess of tears, which fell over his quivering lips. "For all my life, I thought you were dead."

  "Would you have accepted me as your mother if I came to you earlier?"

  "I could've tried." Alistair lowered his head. "Why did you give me your locket and pendant?"

  Fiona paused as she struggled to find the words to express her meaning to them. She closed her eyes as she said, "It was a token gesture between your father and me, something only special to us. Just like you are."

  "Really? You think? Did you know that I was a nobody wandering in exile for years? How was that me being special or safe?" Alistair stared at the wall.

  "I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do. I never wanted to give you up, but I thought doing so would keep you safe." Fiona opened her eyes as her tears continued to fall.

  Alistair heaved slow breaths to calm down. Now wasn't the time for anger or upset It was for the truth. Yes, she was right, the earlier him wouldn't have listened to her babble. In fact, he'd be a templar and think she was tricking him.

  The man he was today had seen the complexities of the world at the very bottom and the fundamental truth, deep down, that surviving life meant it was impossible not to have the soul broken at some point where it needed mending. There was no wrong or right way to live a life. A person was bound to the consequences of the choices they made. He was Fiona's consequence.

  But could she not have made that choice to give him away? Or would she have been able to take him back?

  Deep down, he felt he didn't have the right to judge, since he had no idea what situations led to the action. He doubt she would have been able to take him back because the lie was too strong and involved too many people who only saw him as a bastard connection to a dead king.

  Weighing all this up, he felt calmer. As long as she gave him the genuine truth, he was willing to hear her story without prejudice.

  "The truth is what matters. I think I deserve to know the full extent. Tell me everything, please. Leave nothing out." His voice was steady and hopeful. "Help me understand the why."

  Fiona felt calmer hearing his words. She nodded and began her story from the very beginning.