AN: Alrighty, so I know I'm working on a long chaptered DAO fic - and the second chapter will be published on Friday without delay. However, I couldn't get over this particular line when I was writing (and therefore going over dialogue) for Alistair as he was complaining about not being able to fight. Duncan's response struck me as kind of odd - and then it made me wonder if King Cailan really didn't know about his half-brother. In any case this is me merely exploring that possibility.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing relating to DAO or its characters (They all belong to Bioware)

When someone told Cailan, son of Maric Theirin, that he had a younger brother he was sure to have laughed and made some sort of joke. It was not in his nature to be overtly serious, and he preferred toeing around any issue which forced his attention, demanded a level of solemnity that he did not have it in himself to give. The deaths of both his parents had left in him an emotional void that only playful banter allowed him to ignore. He had no other family, and his relationship with his wife and her father was always tense if only because the Teyrn reminded him too much of his father.

Thus a grin and a dismissive wink was all the messenger received before he was promptly shown the door of the kings' study. And yet, despite his easy smile, the sense that he was not his fathers' only son became a constant, serious, consideration. He was truly not as idealistic as he chose to portray himself. He knew his mother had borne no child after him and so his half-brother would labeled for his illegitimate birth, bastard.Still, a brother of such birth, noble or not, meant that the king was not as alone as he had initially thought; the nameless, faceless half-brother the only close family tie Cailan had anymore. The fact that he used several of his personal spies to find out more about this illusive brother should not have surprised anyone. But it did.

He surprised himself.

And it seemed fate had conspired to help him, for it was only a few years later that he came face to face with a brother he now in name and reputation; Alistair, an ex-templar, now a member of the Grey Wardens.

Cailan had laughed to himself when he had first received the information, all at once amused and resentful. He had always had a fascination with the mythologies of his country, and the Grey Wardens had been among his childhood heroes, his position as king had done nothing to change this. It seemed ironic that both brothers would find such an immediate similarity, this tie to Grey Wardens.

It was only when he was finally introduced to the other man however, that the young king appreciated such sentiment, their similarities all too apparent, to both of them. And yet, neither man mentioned the strange similarity in their features, nor their shared sense of humor, their laugh and easy banter. The tie of kinship went all but unmentioned; but that too was the product of their similarity.

For all of their interest in one another, nothing could be gained from public acknowledgement, and both men were smart enough to know that the politics of Ferelden were best kept at the distance. It was why they both smiled in greeting but never bothered shaking hands.

Some things were better left unsaid.

But to not mention a brother was much different from not caring, not wondering if similarities were more than just physical traits and tendencies towards heroic figures of mythology.

Cailan doubted Alistair could have foreseen that they would have a similar taste in women as well. Perhaps it was because at the end of the day they were both their fathers' sons, but somehow the older man doubted that.

There had just been something about her.

He had sensed an end for himself that day when he had gone ridding through the surrounding Wilds, had felt the tug of death more strongly than he ever had before. The realization had haunted him for much of the morning, there was no denying it. The young king had all but driven his mount to exhaustion before he had realized what he was doing.

And though he had meant to return immediately to camp, the announcement that Duncan had arrived was enough a lure to keep him out just a moment longer. It had been a childhood dream realized. And yet, there had been no way Cailan would have been able to foresee the way he responded to the young woman who had accompanied the Grey Warden leader.

Strange that this recruit would strike at the very core of him so instantly, her vulnerable expression and slight figure beckoning to him beneath her modest clothing. Cailan had never been able to understand how it was his father could have had his affairs with the serving girls, despite the circumstances of his brothers' birth. But he knew, the moment she had looked up at him and introduced herself, that he would have gladly had her, possessed her if only for a night. Indeed, the very blood in his veins had hummed for her attentions, desperate for her.

Had this been what it was like for Maric when he strayed from the path of his marriage?

He saw her only twice more, and the last was more a fleeting glance as he managed his final preparations for the impending battle. She had found herself in the company of his younger brother the pair talking quietly between themselves as they waited for Duncan by the fireside.

Cailan doubted Alistair realized just how enthralled the younger brother was quickly becoming of his female companion, the knights' larger form bent protectively over the smaller woman in his shadow. Their faces were serious but their intentions, their subconscious brushes of skin to armor were telltale signs of attraction, even if neither one yet had the sense to realize it.

Truly they were two of a kind.

The king didn't know if his thought applied to the two wardens by the fire or the similarities that continued to appear between brothers.

Still, there was one last thing to be done…

"What? I won't be in the battle?"

Alistair's angry outrage was nearly lost in the surrounding noise of the war camp and the preparations being undergone by all of its inhabitants.

"This is by the Kings' personal request Alistair." His mentor answered carefully, his eyes catching the momentary glint of golden armor as it disappeared behind a tent, "If the Beacon is not lit Teyrn Loghains' men won't know when to charge."

"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch just in case, right?"

The cynicism in the other mans' voice was hardly lost on those who were listening, and for one in particular the remark drew a small, if albeit sad, smile.

That wasn't it at all…but if that was what Alistair wanted to think than who was Cailan to argue with him?

It wasn't like they had ever been friends anyway.

The young King merely sighed once more before turning to leave for the battlefield, wondering idly if perhaps his brother would find the similarities between them as amusing as he had.

The looks, the smile, the fair lady warden…

He wished he could have asked.

END