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In good times and in bad	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 14749 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and the characters of the game do not belong to me. This is a no profit fanfiction

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Notes:

Bonus chapter. After re-reading and editing, I found a Redcliffe chapter was missing. Now, here it is.

Chapter Text
Night falls and grey mists rise from the lake. We're as ready as we can be when the undead approach. I can smell them a mile off. Some of them really have been dead for a while. But the smell isn't the worst thing. I don't know what I expected, where the undead would come from... Of course I know that they are walking corpses of normal people who died. People who lived at the castle. Still I am absolutely not prepared for familiar faces staring back at me. It's been almost ten years, but many I still recognize. I almost drop my sword at the sight of Martha, the old cook that used to chase me out of the larder whenever she caught me stealing cheese. And there's Harold, the old scholar I drove crazy by doodling stick-figures or dreamily look out of the window when I was supposed to listen to his lectures...
I chop his head off and I swear he wears the very same accusing expression he wore when he caught me not paying attention.
Oh what a night!
"Merciful Andraste! What is going on within the castle?" I gasp once the new day dawns with us still alive and the undead dead. For real this time. Is there any hope left at all for the Arl and his family? Teagan and I run around looking at every dead face when we pile the corpses up on a pyre after a long night of fighting. We look at each other with utter relief when we can confirm none of them is Eamon, Isolde or Connor.
I am so exhausted I can hardly keep myself on my feet, still I'd rather head for the castle right away and check on Eamon instead of celebrating our victory. I change my mind pretty fast when it turns out the celebration comes with a splendid breakfast including bacon and eggs, cheese and twelve different cakes - much to Sten's delight.
"Thank you, Alistair," Teagan says as he pats my shoulder amiably.
"I did nothing. Rori is the one you should thank." She, however, is nowhere to be seen. The whole village has assembled, celebrating their heroes while the protagonist is missing.
"She's a remarkable young lady but she didn't defeat the undead on her own. Don't hide your light under a bushel, Alistair. You are better than you believe. You've always been," Teagan extols me.
First I think, he's making fun of me until I look him in the eyes and see... pride. He is proud of me! I am so stunned, I forget to chew the cheese I stuffed into my mouth and gape at him like a complete fool. I'm not used to that much praise. It leaves me flustered. "Err... I... well, thank you, I guess... this time I didn't make a pig's ear out of it."
"Not at all," Teagan chuckles at my obvious discomfort. "Maybe you should look for your little redhead?" he suggests.
"She is not my redhead," I splutter all flustered. Oh, stop grinning like that, Teagan! We have a Blight to end after all, right? Can't forget about that just because Rori happens to be... well, Rori... Oh blast! Did I sigh out loud when I thought that?
"Oh, I don't think she would mind," Teagan remarks with a heavy sigh. "If you don't want to go, I could?" he offers, sounding far too hopeful for my taste. Rori is my... uhm... fellow Grey Warden. Yes, that's exactly what she is and I should be looking for her. Now.
"On my way," I mutter, hurrying off with Teagan chortling with undisguised amusement at my departure.
I find Rori sitting at the pier, dangling her feet. Bevin next to her bounces around excitedly as Rori tells him the suitable for a child version of last night's battle. I can't get rid of the impression, Bevin wouldn't mind some gross details.
"Thank you for lending your sword to me, Bevin. I never would have made it without."
The boy beams from ear to ear, radiating pride. "You better keep it then when going to the castle," he offers generously.
"That's very noble of you, Bevin. I don't know how I could manage without. I promise I will return your sword as soon as possible."
"When I am grown up, I want to be a hero like you and Alistair," the boy says in awe. He jumps to his feet and waves a stick around in a poor imitation of fencing. "Take this and die, rotting corpse!" He whirls around some more, suddenly catching sight of the still smoldering pyres on the hill. That has the kid sober-up within a heartbeat. We all tend to forget that a hero requires a tragedy until we're confronted with it. "I just wish my mum was here," Bevin snivels. Tears well up in his eyes, despite him angrily trying to blink them back.
"Me, too," Rori whispers sadly. I somewhat doubt she's talking about Bevin's mother. She seldomly mentions her family and if she does, it's often only short remarks before her voice fades, leaving her speechless with grief. She grew up beloved by her family. Her life was truly sheltered. And then she got tossed into this nightmare. She acquits herself so well, I keep forgetting what she has gone through while I am busy feeling sorry for myself and mourning Duncan. Just because she doesn't lament all the time, doesn't mean she's not hurting, though.
"Have to go," Bevin blurts out all of a sudden and runs off. With his future career plans he of course can't cry in front of his idol. Makes for a bad reputation. Especially when he's a man crying in front of a woman. Absolute no-go.
I slowly approach, slumping down next to Rori. Her lips pressed to a thin line she stares at the lake, eyes wide open to stop the tears from falling. She snivels and wipes her nose at her sleeve. Grinning, I shake my head and hand her my handkerchief. Rori manages a shy smile before blowing her nose noisily. Then she leans her head against my shoulder.
Just like that.
Without any warning.
There's a strange fluttering in my stomach. Not like the one you get when being sick. More like... a warm and fuzzy feeling - and I find myself grinning from ear to ear stupidly. After a moment's hesitation I wrap my arm around her waist.
For a while we just sit and watch the lake. It's strange how peaceful it looks in broad daylight. I feel totally comfortable until I turn my head slightly and now the castle's in view. And BANG! there comes the guilt crushing down on me again. How can I sit here and enjoy this moment with Rori when there's so much tragedy and chaos surrounding us? How can I dare to feel anything but grief when Duncan and my brothers are dead?
I begin to shift uneasily, causing Rori to rise to her feet. She stretches like a cat and yawns.
Maker's Breath!
What? No! No, I'm not ogling her... err... I just admire her... blouse. That's a real nice blouse she's wearing. Blue and white stripes, red ties...
I'm still lost in the admiration of her garment, when Rori turns and walks a few steps towards a wooden staircase leading down to the beach.
Merciful Andraste! She has some really lovely... err... boots. Leather boots and... pants. Yes, she has pants, too. Made of leather. Rather tightly fitting if I may say so.
"Would you take a walk with me?" Rori asks shyly, blushing beautifully. I hurry to close my mouth as I am gaping at her slack-jawed.
Breathe, Alistair, breathe!
Concentrate on the task ahead. Try not to destroy all of Ferelden in the process. Slay the archdemon. End the Blight.
"Alistair?"
"Err.. a walk? Yes, sure. I like walks. Good thing since we've been walking around a lot recently, right? And it seems we will be walking some more soon," I stammer, all flushed as I join her and we walk along the shore together. "I can't think of anything I would enjoy more than a walk every now and then..."
Maker! Here I am putting my foot in my mouth - again! My face is so red it's practically glowing. Thankfully Rori is busy looking for smooth flat stones. For some time we skim stones - well, I skim them. Rori just drops them into the water. I show her how to send them hopping across the surface instead of having them sink right away. I even take her hand to guide her toss. She sticks her tongue out the corner of her mouth, a display of how utterly concentrated she is. Her stones still just plop into the lake.
"Maker! Woman! Not so heavy-handed! It's just a little twist of your wrist..."
PLOP!
PLOP! PLOP! PLOP!
"Stop! You'll have Lake Calenhad filled to the rim with stones before you get one skimmed!" We laugh so hard we almost tumble into the lake together. "And there I thought I was the clumsy one!"
"I am hopeless," Rori giggles breathlessly. The wind tousles her bright red hair, her cheeks are blushed and her dark blue eyes shine brightly.
"You are," I agree, grinning broadly and rather foolishly.
And she did it again! Just when I wallowed in self-pity and wrapped myself up all in gloom and despair, grief and sorrow, Rori came along and POOF! there went all the appropriate emotions to make room for just enjoying life.
"So," Rori begins when we flop in the shade of a willow. "Last time Teagan saw you, you were covered in mud?"
"Nothing much to tell," I admit, lying down with my arms crossed behind my head. "I was nine and my job was to herd the pigs the farmers had brought in before the tourney held in Maric's honour. The pigs were part of the banquet, you see. I am pretty sure the beasts knew the fate awaiting them. Or I was just the worst swineherd ever."
"They ran away?" Rori inquires, plucking a blade of grass to turn it between her fingers.
"They did," I admit gloomily. "All of them. Don't let anybody tell you that pigs are stupid!"
"They outsmarted you?" Rori giggles.
"Don't tell Morrigan!" I groan, blushing violently.
"Wouldn't dream of it! So what did these nasty pigs do?" Rori grins.
"Oh! Stop making fun of me!" I huff.
"Wouldn't dream of it!" Rori giggles and gives me a peck to the cheek. My head feels like exploding with all the blood rushing there to make me blush even harder.
"Err..." I stammer, unable to recall what we were just talking about.
"Pigs, mud, Teagan," Rori prompts.
"Uhm... Yes... I just find these nasty pigs a nice place with lots of mud and acrons when the mother sow with her piglets takes Orlesian leave. One desperate dive and I land face forward in the mud and all I get hold off is one piglet. It screeches and squirms and suddenly the mother is back. And boy! is she angry. I run, piglet in arms, scramble through the mud, slip, jump back to my feet. Somewhere I lose the piglet but she's still on my heels... next I stumble onto the road, yelling like a stuck pig, and right into Teagan and his men arriving for the tourney. He shoots the sow and goes: What are you doing here, boy? I'm like: Herding pigs, mylord. And Teagan grins: You certainly made a pig's ear out of this, boy."
I chuckle at the memory. Rori's response is a soft snore. She has fallen asleep. lying prone in the grass with her head resting on her arms.
Charming.
Enchanting.
Bewitching.
She is all that and more...
In the afternoon for example she is hopping mad - namely at Isolde when she drags Teagan into the castle to conciliate whatever evil thing is residing there.
"I fled Highever through a tunnel like this," Rori mutters when we crawl through the secret passage Teagan showed us. "Minus the undead," she adds. "And minus the imprisoned mage."
Jowan. Maleficar, assassin and traitor. Now, that's what I'd call a comprehensive application - for an execution. Jowan really did make a pig's ear of, well, everything. And there I thought, I messed up my life. Compared to him I'm a complete success at all levels.
"Bloody blast it! Loghain and his fucking treachery! And then Isolde! How can she be so damn stupid! I knew she wasn't telling the truth!" Rori bites her lower lip thoughtfully as she turns to us, speaking in a hushed whisper. "He sounds sincere, doesn't he? I mean, he did all these terrible things... but... we didn't leave Sten in that cage for what he did."
"That can hardly be compared," the huge Qunari remarks sourly.
"Why not? You murdered a whole family and showed remorse. Now you are here fighting darkspawn... well, undead at the moment. That's certainly more useful than rotting in a cage."
"As a fish stranded by the tide knows the air or a drowning man knows the sea so does a mage know magic," Sten insist. Boy, and there I thought I was tough when it comes to mages. Qunaris make the better templars it seems. I'm already fantasizing about Morrigan, all tied up, on a ship towards Par Vollen...
"But magic can be really useful," Rori points out. "Some of it at least. My mother became very ill when pregnant. Without magic neither she nor I would have survived."
"The weak die. The strong survive. This is only another proof that magic is causing an imbalance."
"I like you, too, Sten. It's such a pleasure to have you here," Rori dead-pans.
"Can you have just a little drowning?" Sten lectures her like a child. "Some things come only in excess. I say kill the mage. He cannot be trusted."
"He doesn't need to die, surely..." I mutter, feeling very uncomfortable when I so know I should pat Sten's shoulder right now and give him thumbs up. Did I mention I would have sucked as a templar?
"Vashedan! Are we going to fight the darkspawn or chat until they get bored and leave?"
"You think it would work? Alistair and I could totally succeed that way," Rori grins, causing Sten to frown his disapproval at her.
"I say this boy could still be of use to us," Morrigan offers her opinion. "But if not then let him go. Why keep him prisoner here?"
"Hey, hey! Let's not forget he's a blood mage!" I exclaim. If that's our only other option, then I am Team Sten. "You cannot just... set a blood mage free!" Unless of course you want to cause havock and destruction, chaos, death and suffering, the end of the world...
"Better to slay him? Better punish him for his choice? Is that Alistair who speaks or the templar?" Morrigan asks, her eyes squinted.
"I'd say it's common sense." It has to be very, very common when even I get it. "We don't even know the whole story yet."
"He wishes to redeem himself... doesn't everybody deserve that chance?" Leliana says softly. She's like a delicate flower. If I hadn't seen her poke an arrow right in the eye of an undead, pull it out again and shoot the very same arrow at the next walking corpse approaching, I'd say she wouldn't harm a fly.
Rori decides for leaving Jowan where he is for now. No causing trouble but stored for later use. Typical Rori. Practical as always.
"i am here in case you need me," the maleficar says sadly. I have to admit, I feel a bit sorry for him. Maker! Worst templar ever! I really don't know why the Grand Cleric made such a fuss about letting me go. She should have tied a gift bow around my neck when Duncan asked for me and handed me over with a smile and best wishes.
Some undead, the smith's daughter and some more undead later we burst into the court and - Maker! - ain't we lucky Ser Perth and his knights wait in front of the gates because when we enter the great hall we find we do need all assistance we can possibly get.
It's pretty obvious that Connor indeed is the reason for all this mess. Isolde next to him is not the woman anymore I once knew. She is devastated, hanging her head as she watches her son ordering Teagan around to play the court jester for him. And no, we're not talking about the innocent games uncles and their nephews play. I mean, Teagan is a good sport. Whenever he came to Redcliffe, he would have a little gift for me, give me fencing lessons or even play hide and seek with me as if he for real was my uncle. But here with Connor, Teagan's movements when turning a sumerault and performing his little dance resemble that of a puppet on a string. Same with Connor. His face is a frozen grimace, a wide grin forced upon it as he claps his hands and rejoices.
"Creepy," Rori and I breathe in unison. She offers a crooked smile and gently squeezes my hand for comfort. Maker knows I do need some reassurance. These people aren't my family. They made it quite clear. But they are closest to what I still got left now Duncan is dead.
"So these are our visitors. The ones you told me about, Mother?" the thing that once was Connor sneers in a voice so alien it chills me to the bone.
"Y-yes, Connor," Isolde whispers, her voice choked by fear.
"And this is the one who defeated my soldiers?" The Connor-thing scowls at Rori. "The ones I sent to reclaim my village?"
"Bloody blast it," Rori groans next to me. "Isn't a poisoned Arl enough trouble?"
"Now it's staring at me. What is it, Mother? I can't see it well enough."
"This... this is a woman, Connor. Just as I am..."
"You lie! This woman is nothing at all like you! Why, just look at her! Half your age and pretty, too. I'm surprised you don't order her executed in a fit of jealousy..."
"Either this is a very very bad example of parenting gone wrong or the boy is possessed," Rori observes.
"Connor! I beg you! Please don't hurt anyone!" Isolde cries in utter despair.
I don't want to admit it but the boy is an abomination. And as far as I recall there's only one way to end this. I feel sick to my stomach, unable to condemn the boy to death, although he is lost already. There is nothing left of him anymore...
"M-mother? What's happening? Where am I?" And suddenly for a heartbeat, he's just Connor, an innocent little boy... and POOF! there he's gone again and the monster is back.
Maker's Breath! But he is still there! I am so shocked by the realization that the boy is still conscious inside his body that he shares with the demon that I hardly pay attention to the conversation between him and Rori. Whatever it is about, it ends in us fighting the Arl's soldiers... and Teagan.
Doom!
DOOM!
"Merciful Andraste! Teagan! Come to your senses!" I try not to hurt him but that's not easy when he hacks at me with his sword mercilessly, grinning like a rampant lunatic. I manage to block most of his blows but he's cornering me and I find myself standing with the back against the wall soon. Now it's either him or me... and that's when Teagan is distracted by an apple hitting the side of his head. He turns, moving like pulled around by strings, and finds himself face to face with Rori. Well, face to chest. She's rather small. Teagan wields his sword and Rori just takes one step forward, rams her knee between his legs and slams the hilt of her sword against his temple when the bann sinks to his knees, clutching his crotch.
OWWWWWWWWW!!!
I so suffer with him, I clutch my own crotch.
"RORI!"
"What? Down and out but alive and still kicking..."
"Could you please stop talking about kicking!"
When Teagan wakes, he's back to normal - although he walks funnily. Storing Jowan proves to be a good decision since he offers a solution that could help Connor. I don't like it. Not one bit. It involves blood magic and a sacrifice. Isolde immediately volunteers. That's the love of a mother I never knew. I... cannot really blame her for what she did when she did it to protect her child. Still...
"Blood magic. How can more evil be of any help here?" I interrupt. "Two wrongs don't make a right."
"It does seem like a sensible choice," Morrigan says.
Sensible my ass!
"And we do have a willing participant," the witch goes on.
I want to tell her that she must have lost her marbles - all of them - when Rori goes: "Okay, so many mages and lyrium could get this done as well, right? How about we go and get some then?"
Maker bless that girl!
- 9
- 10
- 11
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In good times and in bad

Notes:

Chapter Text