For Stupiak Kitty. Her knickers may rot but it will be with love ;)

I gave quite a bit away in this chapter because I am pathetic at updating and rather than leaving people in the dark, I thought it best to divulge some secrets. If there is a demand for this story I will keep writing. I tend to be engrossed in Lyrium Ghost most of the time because I am close to finishing it. But... this story is much more fun to write.

Thank you very much for reading! I appreciate it as always :D

Chapter 11: Revelations

"Let the mana flow through you. Remember: relax, breathe and release."

Grace opened one eye and peeked up at her great-uncle. Today was the most hated day of the week: magical training. Some people saw magic as a blessing but Grace felt it was a curse. She was required to wear a robe dyed with garish colors. It was tradition, dating back to the days of the Circle, a barbaric age as far as Grace was concerned. Mages had been forced to live apart from the rest of society and were watched constantly by templars without fashion sense.

"Grace, you are peeking again," her great-uncle said. He smirked once her eyes were closed. There was a time when he too was impatient and bored by magic. But with age had come patience and the wisdom to understand how important it was to be in control of his powers. "Now, release the mana."

Two large flames of mana erupted from Grace's hands. "Control the flow, Grace. Keep the flame straight and unwavering." After a few deep breaths the flames grew steady and instead of looking like a great inferno, they fit snugly in her hands. "Good. Now slowly allow it to diminish."

Once the blue flames of mana disappeared, Grace opened her eyes and stared up at her great-uncle. "Can we be finished now?"

Great-uncle Malcolm held out his hand and helped Grace to stand. "You know, Grace, you should be thankful that you are not being taught by Albert today." Malcolm smiled at her disgruntled face. "Lucky for you he is busy redecorating my office."

"So it is true then. You are stepping down from First Enchanter?" Grace asked. Her great-uncle Malcolm should have retired ten years ago in Grace's opinion. He was too old and frail to be dealing with unruly mages.

"I will be working part-time until I feel Albert no longer needs my assistance," Malcolm said. He laughed. "As far as Albert is concerned I have nothing left to teach him."

Grace rolled her eyes. Albert was her first cousin once removed and a complete bore. He did not drink, laugh, smile or joke and he always wore his mage robes. Even to weddings! The only topic he would discuss was magic and the politics surrounding the magi community. He even married a mage and had three mage children. It was lucky too, otherwise the child without magic would have been very bored.

"Great-uncle, why is Albert so..."

"Drab?" Malcolm asked. He wrapped his arm around Grace's shoulder and gave her a light squeeze. "He wasn't always that way. My son used to be quite the free spirit in his youth. Albert and your father got into all kinds of trouble."

"My father?" Grace was surprised Malcolm had mentioned him. No one spoke of her father unless it was necessary.

"They still don't talk about him do they?" Malcolm said. He shook his head and snorted. "Damnable women. They think they have the monopoly on sorrow. Well... they don't," he said curtly. "We all miss him, Grace."

Grace concentrated on the wrinkles in her robe. She did not want Malcolm to see the tears that had begun to well in her eyes. "I know nothing of him," she whispered. "Not even his name."

"They do not want you to ask questions or find answers," Malcolm said. "It's understandable considering what happened to him, but you should know the truth." He shook his staff as if Grace's mother and grandmother were standing in front of him. "I would tell you. I would tell you everything, but then my sister would burn me to a crisp." Malcolm leaned over and began to whisper. "Don't tell anyone but female mages scare me when they are angry and Madeline... Maker, she takes after our mother. That's reason enough not to make her angry."

"Why won't anyone tell me the truth?" Grace implored with arms raised high. "I am no longer a child and I deserve to know."

Malcolm was waiting for her to stomp her foot, but thankfully it never came. "Grace, you have led a charmed life and you are detached from hardship. It is for that reason that your mother and grandmother have delayed the explanations that you claim to deserve."

Grace wanted to argue the point, but she was too captivated by her great-uncle's willingness to divulge information about her father and family. They began to walk instep together through the leaf covered courtyard and landscaped garden.

"Madeline and I had very different viewpoints when it came to rearing children. I have always been told that I was the perfect blend of our parents, whereas Madeline was more like our mother and our older brother was exactly like father. Of course, I was very young when mother and father died so I cannot say for certain."

These were family secrets that Grace had longed to hear. Her grandmother Madeline never spoke of her parents. Her past life was a mystery. "I have another great-uncle?" Grace asked.

"You had," Malcolm said sadly. "He died long before your mother was born and I will say nothing else of that."

It was unusual for her great-uncle to become melancholy during a discussion. He laughed often and reflected on life with an optimistic outlook. "I am sorry," Grace said. "I should not have pried."

"It is your family too, Grace," Malcolm said. "Until your mother deems it time, I cannot speak fully of our family. Do not think too harshly of her. She is doing what believes is best."

"You mean treating me like a child?"

"No, keeping you safe, Grace."

Keeping me safe? From what? I dare say her constant criticism is a far greater threat to me and the future severity of my wrinkles than some boring family history.

"I do not understand," Grace finally said.

"You will."

Grace and Malcolm entered her room. He admired the rosebush outside of her window. It had been planted by him years ago when Grace was a young girl. To this day, Grace still cuts a bouquet to bring to him when she visits. Malcolm eased his old body down onto the edge of the window seat. The book on Grace's nightstand caught his attention. He picked it up and began to thumb through the pages.

"Let me guess, Madeline asked you to read this?" Malcolm said. He raised a speculative eyebrow at one of the pages. "What an interesting approach. I guess it is a clever way to ease into it."

My great-uncle read a romance novel? What is wrong with my family? "What are you talking about? It's a bad romance novel written by someone named Varric Tethras," Grace said. "He is even in the story."

Malcolm chuckled. "Now there is a name I have not heard in some time." A broad smile formed on his face and he shook his head as he replayed a memory in his mind. "Maker that dwarf was insane and bloody nosy."

"Wait... you knew the author?"

"I dare say he knew me better," Malcolm answered in a thoughtful tone. "But that... was a long time ago when I was much younger and full of myself."

Grace pointed to the book. "So this story is true then?" she was hopeful he would say no. "I thought it was a bad romance novel."

"It is bad but in a good way," Malcolm said. "The dwarf took certain liberties but for most part it is an accurate portrayal of the life of Marian Hawke."

"But it is ridiculous," Grace argued. She pranced about the room while trying to make sense of what she had been told. "Why would anyone want to tell a story of a roguish woman stuck in a cave with a peculiar elf? And why would grandmother give me something so common to read?"

"Because she has a wicked sense of humor," Malcolm said. He opened the book to the page that had been bookmarked. "Ah... they are still in the cave. What an awful existence." He peered up at Grace and smiled at her objectionable stance. "They get out you know."

"So I suspected, otherwise the book would be much smaller," Grace said. "It is going on a bit. I had hoped they would have been rescued by now."

Malcolm smiled warmly at the book as if it were a long lost friend. "Trust me when I say that I am thankful they were not rescued at that point," he said. "The book would lose its charm otherwise."

"You believe being trapped in a cave with an elf and facing starvation is charming, great-uncle?" He has been smoking his pipe, Grace thought. I will have to tell Albert to hide it again.

"Ah... with an elf," Malcolm said. "I suppose that is a very important detail. If one is going to die it should be dignified. We would not want it to be at the side of an elf now, would we?"

"You are either mocking me or you dislike the impropriety of the situation as I do," Grace said. "It hardly seems to matter in this story. She is infatuated with him."

"That she is." The old mage rubbed the cover of the book. The gold lettering was fading and the binding was beginning to loosen. It felt as if it were only yesterday when he had seen it in pristine condition. "They have a child you know."

"What?" Grace was alarmed by the prospect. "She... has a child with him?" The very thought turned her stomach. "Why?"

"It was not planned," Malcolm said. "What do you think two people who are clearly infatuated with each other would do if they believed they were going to die?"

Am I really having this discussion with my ancient great-uncle? Ewww. "Out of wedlock and with an elf?" Grace asked. She was horrified by the idea that Marian had let the elf touch her and do... things. "She must have brought shame to her family, and what about her poor mother? That must have been very disappointing."

"Actually, Leandra did not take long to accept that she was going to be a grandmother," Malcolm said. "It was Fenris who was most ashamed and not for the reason you may think. The way Varric recounts it is quite humorous and inappropriate."

"That hardly surprises me," Grace said. "What did that dwarf find humorous about being burdened with a half-elven child and living with it in a hovel?"

Malcolm closed the book and for a moment he was quiet. Grace wondered if he had dozed off. "That part is not humorous. It caused Marian grief but it pushed her harder to change her life. Besides, once you understand how much she loved her son, I think you will agree that the money did not matter. It is before the birth that I find humorous."

Malcolm laid the book gently down onto the nightstand. He ran his hand over the cover once before continuing with his explanation. "You see, Marian Hawke was determined to provide for her remaining family. If that meant speaking with the seneschal while nine months pregnant and seeking a chamber pot halfway through the conversation then so be it. She also vomits at the feet of the Arishok. I like that part because his expression does not change."

"She continued to fight while expecting?" Grace looked as if she had just tasted a rotten lemon. Malcolm had seen the same expression on his own daughter's face after he ran her boyfriend off. She got her revenge by marrying him five years later. "That's awful!"

"She had no choice," Malcolm said. "However, she did limit her adventures during that time to safe investigations and enquiries and rarely fought. The truth is, Fenris kept her from harm. He was quite devoted to the mother and child in his own way."

"I have to admit, albeit ashamedly, that I was growing fond of Marian, but now I am uncertain if I should continue to read," Grace said. "What do you think, great-uncle?"

Malcolm handed Grace the book. "I think, my dear Grace, that if you want answers then you should continue to read. When you are finished, tell your grandmother." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I will see you next week. And do practice. I would hate it if you had to spend a week on probation in the tower with Albert. He would bore you to tears. Maker knows he does me."