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Hoping One Day We'll Make A Dream Last	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3679 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and the characters of the game do not belong to me. This is a no profit fanfiction

Chapter List
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"In the Maker's eyes all men are equal, be it king or beggar," the Grand Cleric intoned, spreading her arms as if to embrace her whole audience. Very unlikely since I was the only listener left in the chapel. It was time for mediation. It hadn't yet begun and I could hardly stiffle a yawn. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't roll them and hung my head, every inch the penitent sinner. I was freezing in my hairshirt, my bare feet cold against the stone floor. "Kneel down and show reverence to the Maker. May He guide you in His wisdom so that you shall be clothed in humility."

"Clothed in humitlity would be something," I muttered under my breath, tugging at the hem of the shirt. I felt naked and foolish.

"Silence!" the Grand Cleric thundered. Thus said she didn't light the blasted candle and left like she should have but kept watching me with her lips pressed to a thin line and her expression close to hostile.

I sighed resignedly. "Come on, get it over with! The Maker moves in mysterious ways, Ferelden is doomed, a crown doesn't make a king, and so forth."

"Indeed it doesn't," Elemena agreed coolly. "In case your performance as a templar recruit supports a conclusion regarding your future as king of this nation, Ferelden is facing hard times."

That much for winning the favour of the Chantry.

"This nation needs the Chantry more than ever before. We who act in the name of the Maker are the pillars of this country, without us there would be chaos and doom. But as the people of Ferelden walk through the shadows of the valley of death, there is a light to guide them. The faithful will not fall..."

Merciful Andraste! Spit it out already!

The ground was cold and hard, my knees already hurt and I had to pee. I wiggled around uncomfortably while the Grand Cleric went on and on about how much the country and I owed the Chantry... With all the willpower I could summon I forced myself to stay awake. It also was test of will to keep myself from pulling faces at my reflection in the huge shiny silver vases at both sides of the altar...

There I was feeling like a ten year old again, stuck somewhere in between guilt and defiance, wavering in between obedience and disrespect, overwhelmed by the mere amount of expectations and paralyzed by fear I would never meet them.

Some things never change.

"... Next to rebuilding this city and ensuring the safety of your people, your... advancement has caused a power vacuum."

Pause.

I blinked. Huh? What? Oh, she was about to stop beating around the bush, wasn't she? I feigned interest best I could, an expertise I had brought to perfection during my time at the monastery...

"Stop grinning like a fool and listen!" Elemena snapped.

Okay, maybe not exactly perfection.

"The Arling of Amaranthine at this moment is leaderless," the Grand Cleric accentuated.

Pause.

"You will have to name a new leader."

Pause.

"I pray to the Maker to give you the wisdom to do what is right," Elemena said menacingly, staring at me intensely. "For your own and your kingdom's sake."

"May the Maker guide me," I agreed, presenting my best goofy grin.

I'm not an idiot. Not all of the time. People like to believe I am and I like to keep it that way. Even after so many years they act surprised when I don't meet their expectations - either way. Sometimes they have to find out I am smarter than I look, sometimes they despair as I prove to be dumber than even they thought possible.

The Grand Cleric was about to get surprised by how stupid the new monarch actually was.

"Empty your mind," she went on once she was done trying to manipulate the fool in front of her.

"But..." I really had to pee. Once the candle was lit I would have to sit in front of it in silent contemplation and devoted prayer until the candle burnt down.

The Grand Cleric silenced me with a glare. "Shush!" she snapped. "Ten years and you still have not learnt to be quiet!"

Duh. Guilty as charged. "But..." I wiggled around some more while I tried to figure out how to inform the Grand Cleric I had to answer an urgent call of nature.

"... and in quiet solitude you shall see the path the Maker has prepared for you," the Grand Cleric cut me short. "May your faith guide you." She lit the damn candle and left me kneeling there.

Marvellous!

I'd rather have emptied my bladder instead of my mind. Try to contemplate when all you can focus on is not wetting yourself. I gritted my teeth, sweat formed on my brow. I stared at the candle and tried to will it to burn down faster. For a moment I considered some target practice but that would have meant explaining the mess to the Grand Cleric afterwards...

I needed something less obvious, something in reach, something...

Cursing under my breath, I accepted my failure in the Maker's eyes - again - rose with stiff legs and hobbled towards one of the silver vases.

Ahhh! Relief!

It for sure was an unforgivable sin to pee into the Maker's floral arrangements. Rori by this time was sure the Maker didn't give a damn what we did. Can't say I was completely convinced, so I ducked my head, half expecting to get struck by lightning in form of the Grand Cleric's wrath and apologized just in case. When nothing happened I returned to sit in front of my candle for some thorough contemplation. Perhaps the Maker was pissed off - literally - since I didn't feel any wiser or calmer. Thinking about my duty as king, I felt close to panic. I couldn't imagine this should now be my life until my dying day. If Rori didn't find a cure that day would come within the next ten years...

Blast! Nobody could really expect me to sit around and stare at a candle and waste hours of my precious time for some decent panicking!

As I was already doomed to eternal perdition I changed my newly lit candle against a similar but much smaller one from one of the candlesticks at both sides of the altar, lit it and placed it in front of me instead of the original one. It was a trick I had often used back at the monastery. I've sat in front of as many candles to think about my behaviour as I've scrubbed dirty pots. I liked the pots better. Best when they left me alone in the kitchen - which they never did again after I had build a drumset of pots, hitting them with wooden spoons and banging the lids. Shortly after I had started my concert, ten templars in heavy armour burst through the door, alarmed by the infernal noise and expecting an encounter with at least one abomination or demon. Their expressions when they found the hellish noise was caused by a bored teenage boy... Priceless!

Ten minutes later I sneaked out of the chapel. Alright, I tried to sneak out of the chapel. That was the part of my clever plan that had never worked. Thus I shouldn't have been surprised to find the Grand Cleric standing right outside the chapel, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her expression merciless. Blast it! She knew me too well.

"Uhm... hi!" I grinned sheephisly and waved foolishly.

Without saying a word, her arm outstretched the Grand Cleric pointed at the chapel I had just left.

Doom!

DOOM!.

Chilled to the bones, legs stiff and not an ounce wiser, I arrived at my suite of rooms shortly after midday and just in time to hear Amy say: "Bann Esmerelle had tea with Lady Isolde today." The little girl danced around a puppet in the middle of the room, trying to snatch little trinkets from its various pockets without making the bells ring. Meanwhile Rori and Zevran, looking very pleased with themselves, slumped on the sofa, both feet on the table in front of them, loaded with the leftovers of their lunch. Maker! I was starving!

"Birds of a feather flock together," Rori said. "What did she want?"

"She showed much interest in whom Alistair is going to declare Arl of Amaranthine," Amy went on. "Blast!" she hissed when a tiny bell rung when she tried to cut the purse from the doll's belt.

"With a twist of your wrist, no big movements," Zevran adviced.

"And she didn't miss pointing out she felt overlooked when Denerim wasn't given to her," Amy reported as she tried to do as the assassin had told her. "Isolde promised to talk to Eamon about it."

"Ow do y'no suff fings?" I asked, wolfing down the remains of Rori's stew before she could. Bowl in hand, I squeezed myself in between Rori and Zev, reaching for the bread before my hindquarters even touched the sofa.

"Nice outfit," the elf smirked. "Sexy!" He teasingly pulled at the hem of my hairshirt until I slapped his hand away.

"Cute," Rori giggled, patting my knee. I shot her a scathing look and was rewarded with the sweetest smile. "How was matins?" I pulled a face. "That great?" Rori laughed, nuzzling the side of my neck.

"Valena told Soris," Amy explained.

I turned to the elf standing behind the sofa like a satue with a tray in his hands, loaded with tea and biscuits. A wide and stupid grin was plastered across his face.

"Valena," my newly minted butler sighed dreamily, unaware of me relieving him of the tray. Oh boy! It was Nan's butter biscuits! "Valena!"

"He's been like this ever since she talked to him." Amethyne shook her head in disapproval and incomprehension.

"Problem?" Zevran whispered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Don't think so," Rori said, munching biscuits thoughtfully. "After what happened at Redcliffe, Valena's loyality does not lie with her mistress."

"No creepy assassin talk at lunch!" I wagged my finger at the rogues. "As for Amaranthine, the Grand Cleric already tried to make me hand it over to the Chantry," I groaned. "Why's everybody after Amaranthine?"

"Because it's one of the richest Arlings in Ferelden? And nobody dares to reach for Gwaren as long as Anora is alive and still kicking," Rori pointed out. "They got something planned. We don't know yet what it is but Anora for sure is part of it, knowingly or not."

"You will have to deal with the queen dowager soon," Zevran mused. "Accidents happen. People slip and break their necks every day..."

"No assassin talk at lunch!" I repeated, glaring icily at Zevran - and at Rori. She was capable of many things I would never have dared to think of. I had to draw a line and make sure she wouldn't cross it, knowing I would lose her if she did.

I rather dealt with all the Esmerelles of Thedas and the Maker Himself than with Anora and her fate. She was a threat and killing her would certainly have been a final solution. But I didn't want to be that kind of king...

"Amaranthine's part of Fergus' teyrnir. You could always leave it to him," Rori said rather unperturbed. "Whatever he decides you can say it wasn't you."

"Sounds like a decent plan," I cheered, glad it wasn't my problem anymore. "That's just the way I like it."

My coronation took place in the afternoon in the throne room simply because the darkspawn had burnt down the Chantry. The Grand Cleric wasn't amused. She acted as if I was personally responsible for the destruction of her Denerim Chantry and complained endlessly about how the king should come to the Chantry and not the other way round.

Standing outside the huge doors, I nervously pulled at the cuffs of my coat. If Rori had suddenly appeared to tell me this wasn't real, that we were again stuck in the Fade, she wouldn't have had such a hard time to convince me like she had back at Kinloch Hold. First time I had entered the throne room, I had felt like a lamb being led to slaughter. It had been a showdown and after I had spent so much time working towards it, it had still been surreal. This time wasn't any better.

"I am having a déjà vu," I mumbled on entering the vestibule.

"Alistair, if you were even remotely worthy of being King Maric's son you would already be in there for your coronation, now wouldn't you?" Ser Cauthrien greeted me, unable to hide her grin. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she realized what she had done. "Forgive me, your Highness." She bowed lowly, her face all flushed.

"Whoa! No, don't be sorry! That was a joke! Haha! Awesome. Thank you for cheering me up. The Maker knows I need a good laugh right now."

"Your desire is my command," a voice behind me said and next I was pounced and smooched by my ginger. She was breathtakingly beautiful in her mossy green dress embroidered with dark green ivy twines. Her sparkling eyes and prettily flushed cheeks, her fiery curls framing her pale face adorned by a myriad of freckles... and this brilliant smile that was only meant for me... Before she had tackled me I had felt like a dead man walking. She was as nervous as I, overwrought and jittery, still with her in my arms I knew everything would be alright. Somehow. Someday. Anyway, we bloody blast it would make the best of anything life still had in store for us.

"Wow!" I breathed when she finally broke the kiss. "I was expecting something like 'A Grey Warden, a templar and a mage enter a tavern...'"

"You want me to crack a joke." She tapped her finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Okay, here we go. Oghren comes out of the bar. He's drunk as a skunk..." Rori already started giggling. "Drunk as a skunk, haha. Stinking drunk, get it? Hihihihi..."

"Of course," I chortled.

"Outside he meets Zevran, also whistled drunk..." she went on, bubbling over with laughter. By then she had me laughing, too, not because her joke was so witty. It was her adorably cute inability to crack a joke without completely messing it up.

"Oghren looks up in the sky and says, 'Is that the sun or the moon?'"Rori hiccuped.

"Are you ready, your Highness?" Eamon asked sourly. He awaited me at the second set of doors. I was late for my own coronation - of course. It wasn't my fault, though. Barkspawn had ran away with one of my boots and when Rori, Amy, Soris and I finally had retrieved it we found Barkley had stolen the second one.

"Wait, wait, there's still the payoff." Rori by then laughed so hard she had to cling to my coat to keep standing. "Zev answers," she gasped. "He answers... hihihihi... 'I don't know. I'm a stranger here myself.'"

We laughed ourselves to tears much to Eamon's dismay. I couldn't have cared less. Rori had made it possible for me to walk into the throne room with my head held high. Alright, it took me another ten minutes because every time Eamon asked if I was ready, I started laughing again.

Finally though, the doors opened and I strode through the aisle. I tried not to look left or right, tried to ignore the crowd that had assembled to witness my coronation.

Call it Mission Impossible. I was so nervous I searched for reassurance in the expressions of the audience. Bad idea.

On the right side - uh-oh! The Anti-Alistair-Fraction. Grim expressions, stern faces, some tried to look neutral. There were smiles, too. I knew this kind of smiles. It was the "You are in deep trouble, son" type of smiles. It's heart-warming when as a monarch you have the unwavering backup of the nobility! It makes life as a king so much simpler... Ha! Simple is for wimps! I had fought hordes of darkspawn, slain a broodmother, faced the archdemone, explained to the Grand Cleric why I had peed into the Maker's floral arrangements... Some malcontent nobles couldn't scare me! At least that's what I kept telling myself.

The left side was crowded with my supporters. Fergus Cousland, Teagan, Bann Alfstanna, Leonas Bryland... What was left of the Mac Eanraig Clan still made more noise than the whole rest of the audience. Zevran whistled with his fingers as I passed by. Oghren held up a sign that looked like a huge hand with thumbs up, poking it in Sten's face when he bounced up and down excitedly. Wynne and Leliana held up a knitted banner 'Alistair for King'. Shale lifted Rori onto her shoulders and that was when Barkspawn escaped and joined me. The clumsy puppy followed me towards the Grand Cleric waiting at the dais. He was so excited he stumbled over his own feet several times. And I almost stumbled over him as he kept tripping me. I somehow managed to not make a complete fool of myself, passed by the honour guard and then stopped in front of the Grand Cleric. She glowered at the dog, then her eyes fell on me and I swear her expression didn't change a bit. When I knelt, Barkspawn sat next to me, wagging his tail.

"Is your Majesty willing to take the oath?" the Grand Cleric asked coolly. Duh, she was still mad at me for the ruined flowers...

"I... I am willing," I croaked, the lump in my throat so thick I could hardly speak.

"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of Ferelden according to the respective laws and customs?" the Grand Cleric asked.

"I solemnly promise so to do." I repeated the words Eamon had made me memorize. Then I swore and promised a whole lot more. Honestly, I didn't understand half of what she said. I was dizzy, overwhelemed and overwrought by the fact that the Grand Cleric with utmost reluctance slammed the crown onto my head as if she was trying to rip my ears off. Her revenge for the destroyed flowers. The metal of the crown felt cold against my forehead and hot against my red ears, its weight was pushing me down. I felt like carrying the world upon my shoulders, a responsibility I had never wanted and now was loaded with for the rest of my life. With some effort I rose and turned to the assembled nobility. They all bowed - more or less - when the Grand Cleric indignantly declared me king of Ferelden. I raised my hand and set my jaws firmly like I had practiced in front of the mirror endlessly - with Rori pulling faces behind my back. My expression was resolute, my stance strong, I radiated manliness and power... At least I do hope that's what I looked like. There was cheering - more or less - and people clapped their hands. Good sign, right?

Maker! I so needed a drink.

First the speech, though. I've tried it the other way round a few times. It always was a disaster.

Kings hold speeches quite often. I have scribes to write them for me. But I have trouble memorizing their stuff. For some time I tried with crib sheets - until I accidentally read from one of Rori's letters instead when welcoming the Nevarran ambassador. Ever since the Nevarrans have tried to decipher the mysterious code the king and queen use when communicating. They still believe 'licking a lamppost' is the codename for a military operation.

For my coronation I had scribbled some notes on my palm. Unfortunately I was nervous with sweaty hands. So it was just me putting my foot in my mouth again.

"My friends," I began, very aware that with friends like some of those assembled I didn't need no foes no more. "We are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory..."

Fergus and his uncle shoved Rori to the front and followed by our dear companions she came forward. She was all smiles with pride and adoration. The sentiment was mutual.

"Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim there is one in particular who deserves commendation." Without Eamon and the Grand Cleric in my back and the assembled nobility right in front of me I would have grinned with foolish happiness and blown my woman kisses. I had to force my face to stay earnest. Hard to do when Rori was adorably blushed and bashful. "The one who led the final charge against the archdemon..."

"I didn't lead anybody anywhere," Rori muttered under her breath. She disliked her role as the Hero of Ferelden but she played along as she knew she had to. Her unwillingness made her appear humble and added to her great popular appeal. The people loved her and the nobility recognized her as a power not to be underestimated.

"... remains with us still..." Rori called it do-it-yourself-fate. Maker forgive me, I couldn't regret it. I felt guilty, I felt as if I had failed Duncan, I worried about Morrigan and the child, but I couldn't regret it. "An inspiration to all she saved the day." All flustered, Rori pulled faces at me to make me stop praising her to the skies. Instead I reached out for her to take my hand and stand beside me. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I formally present my betrothed, Rori Elissa Cousland of Highever, who will soon be your queen." There were cheers and whistles, the Mac Eanraigs somehow managed a bagpipe fanfare, the teyrn of Highever giddily bounced up and down and clapped his hands... Rori smiled sheepishly when our fingers intertwined, then she tiptoed to give me a quick peck to the cheek. And then we stood there, equally blushed and bashful and beamed at each other until Eamon cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty..."

"Err, yes... my dear, its hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more..."

"Well...," Rori said slowly.

"Shush! Highsight is easier than forsight." I whispered before raising my voice again. "I think it's only appropriate that I return the favour."

"Oh, alright, you can slay the next archdemon we encounter," she said generously.

"Awesome! Although I do hope that's the one and only we'll meet in our lifetime. Actually as a reward..." I smiled lovingly at her. "... and as an engagement present I offer you a boon of your choice."

"Really? Awesome! You see, I got a list..."

"One boon, Rori!"

"You'll find them all very reasonable..."

"Just pick one for now." We both knew she would get anything she wanted anyway.

"Duh... I don't know. I'll have to think about it... and..." She beckoned me to lean closer, then whispered into my ear. "And it's really nothing to discuss in public." Out loud she said: "Right now there's nothing more I can wish for than I already got. I mean, hey, I am going to marry the cutest king in all Thedas!"

"Cute!?" I poked her side, making her squeak.

"Your Majesty!" Eamon groaned.

"Oh, yes, err, sorry..." I pointed my finger at Rori. "I will get my revenge and it won't be pretty." Eamon had a facepalm moment while Rori just smiled mischieveously and gave me that upwards glance of hers. "At any rate," I added in a low and rather husky voice. "I can't wait to be alone with you." Sighing I went on: "These formal affairs drive me insane."

"You're alright, Alistair?" Rori asked worriedly, resting her hand on my chest above my heart.

Smiling I closed my fingers around her hand. "I get to marry the woman I love. I figure there can't be much better than that."

"Ha! Always look on the bright side of life. right? It could have been Anora instead!"

I was glad when the coronation was over. Rori afterwards dragged me outside to meet and greet the gathered citizens of Denerim. They all wanted to see the Hero of Ferelden and the newly minted king. We waved and smiled and blew kisses. Eamon didn't allow us to join the crowd and shake some hands. Oghren and Zev, however, took a bath in the crowd. When Leliana sung her song about our adventures - by then a popular tune - the people sung along. The elf threw himself off the balcony, trusting the people to catch him. When Oghren tried the same he hit the ground. Dagna displayed amazing fireworks. There also should have been white doves but Shale bodyslammed the cage when she saw it and we had to do without. Sten was mad at me for promising cake when there was none. "The cake is a lie!" he grunted. Barkley and Barkspawn played with a rather unwilling small black dog I had never seen before. The bitch seemed quite fond of Rori, even allowed her to pet her while she would growl at anybody else.

Afterwards there was the banquet. When we entered the dining room, there was this tiered cake with a tiny marzipan king on top. Sten was flying high, all smiles he acted like a child at his birthday. The cake was no lie!

"Big softie," Leliana muttered when passing by and Sten's smile POOFed. He kept stuffing himself with cake,though, his face as long as a fiddle as if eating it was a terrible sacrifice.

"Humans have a better taste for spirits than I thought," Oghren chortled. "The ale of yours is actually good. Orzammar ale tastes like dirt in comparison. Probably because they put dirt in it. Go figure!" Armed with the biggest mug he could find, he spent most of the banquet close by the huge barrels of ale, wine and whiskey that had been put up at one side of the hall. Then Fergus challenged him to a drinking contest.

We celebrated our victory, our survival, me being king, Rori's and my engagement. There was a lot of talking about our future plans, Sten became soppy about leaving for Par Volen - as soppy as this old grumper can actually be. Oghren invited us to his wedding with Felsi, Wynne and Shale were on a mission that sounded as impossible as Rori's and mine. We also spoke about the past, sung our songs, exchanged some hugs, tackled Sten for some group cuddling. Maker! I couldn't belive it was over and we were all still alive. I suppose we all felt the same about it.

Actually everything went well, at least until Fergus - drunk as a lord - handed Amaranthine over to the Grey Wardens. He climbed onto the table, goblet in hand and bereft of his pants and declared the Commander of the Grey Wardens the Arl of Amaranthine. "To ho-ho-honour the sssssssacriffffice of - hicks - the Waaa-wardens," he stammered, raising his goblet for a toast while he grinned toothily at me. "One o'em if my bro-in-law," he added. "Anofer my lil' sis." He was utterly pleased with himself until Rori - suddenly very sober - overcame her state of shock and hauled potato dumplings at him. "I am the Commander, stupid!"

"He-hero o' Ferelden, Cooooommander, Qu-qu-queen an' Arlesssssssa," Fergus grinned. "You got sw-swayyy!" He swayed his hips and vanished out of sight when he drunkenly fell off the table.

I was pretty drunk myself but one look at Esmerelle and Elemena and I knew "Wasn't me!" wouldn't save me anymore. My now power-boosted betrothed would belie me.

"Leave it to Fergus, you said," I sullenly muttered to my equally desperated woman. I couldn't really be mad at Fergus. Of course the Wardens deserved to be honoured. However, Amaranthine had proved to be a hot potato and Fergus had successfully thrown it back at me and Rori. "He will fix this, you said. Nobody will blame me, you said."

Honestly, it was exactly what I would have done with Amaranthine had the decision been mine. And I believe I might have mentioned it when Fergus was around. As far as I recall this confession included Fergus and me, two goblets of wine, some brotherly hugs and a collection of cool Warden tales. I might have given the impression of wanting to give Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens... But I never, not for a single moment believed he would actually do like I said!

Rori banged her head against the table. "Doom!" she groaned. "DOOM!"

My sentiments exactly.
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Hoping One Day We'll Make A Dream Last