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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
- 10
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"You were awesome! Kingly. Manly. You made quite an impression."

"You're only saying this because you want me to make love to you - again."

"Really, Alistair, you should stop thinking so lowly of yourself. You believe you're a failure in anything you do but that's not true. Your point of view of yourself doesn't reflect what others think about you. Well, some do..."

"Charming. You do have a way to push my ego," I laughed.

"The coronation showed once more you have the potential to become a true king...," Rori insisted drunkenly.

"Coronation? We're not talking about my performance in bed?" I sulked. Last thing I wanted to be reminded of was my coronation day. To me it had been like a gauntlet and I was still utterly surprised I survived.

"Fishing for compliments, your Majesty?" Rori flicked her fingers against the crown I was still wearing. What can I say? Roleplay can spice up the good old lamppost licking business from time to time...

"Oh come on! Do me a favour!"

Grinning impishly, Rori shrugged out of my embrace, climbed on top of me, lolled with her arms lifted above her head as she rolled her hips lasciviously. "Hmm, let's see..."

"The view indeed is spectacular," I agreed, admiring her heaving bosom. Sighing contently, I cupped her breasts, rubbing my thumbs across her nipples.

"You make me go... uhmm..." Her sentence turned into a loud moan when I pinched her nipples and rolled them between my fingertips. "Your Majesty!" she purred in feigned indignation. "Wielding your sceptre, aren't you? Sceptre, get it? Hihi!" She circled her hands around my manhood.

"Oghren's jokes don't become funnier when repeated, kitten," I sighed and poked her sides.

"Y-y-your Majesty!" she squeaked.

I hurried to kiss her before she could say more. I grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulled her against me and at the same time tossed the crown aside. I was sick and tired of His Majesty. I had gotten your-majestied all day long and I still was surprised people were actually addressing me. My mouth closed over hers, tasted the velvet sweetness of her tongue stroking mine. It started slowly, tenderly and turned into fierce passion. We both sought release for the tension that had built inside of us all day long when all eyes had been on us and every step we took had been judged. Rori wiggled around on top of me, her slick core rubbing against my manhood. Her nails left red marks on my skin when I broke the kiss and assaulted her breasts, sucking roughly at her nipples. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she clung to me, her breath hot against my skin she moaned her pleasure into my ear when she nibbled my earlobe.

"Maker's Breath!" I moaned.

"Fuck the Maker!" Rori breathed, then clapped her hands over her mouth when she realised her blasphemy. "So-sorry," she whispered.

"No worries, kitten," I grinned sheepishly. "I peed into the Maker's floral arrangements."

"You didn't, did you? Alistair Theirin, still waters run deep!" she laughed.

"I don't know about the depth but run they did..."

"Sush!" Rori giggled, swatting at me. "Forget the Maker! Fuck me! Real hard."

"Your desire is my command."

With an unexpectedly swift motion I turned her around and mounted her, making her squeal in surprise. She was so beautiful with her cheeks blushed and her dark blue eyes shining with love and desire. My rhythm became harder and faster, the bed rocking against the wall forcefully every time I thrust into her. Rori clung to me, her legs wrapped around my waist, her nails raking down my back. We made a hellish noise, Rori's cute mewing noises, her screams and my moans of pleasure, the bed slamming against the panelled wall...

... and then all of a sudden one board became lose and dropped onto Rori's head just when we reached our point of release.

"Maker! Kitten! Are you hurt?" I tossed the board aside and took Rori's face in my hands. She blinked dazedly, groaned and rubbed her forehead, a bump already forming there.

"Ow! Not exactly a lightning but I suppose, the Maker made his point...," she groused as she testingly touched the bump. "Ouch! That was mindnumbing for sure." She struggled to sit up to examine the wall. "Duh! My head is spinning... Hey, look there's a hollow space behind the panel..." Without hesitation she stuck her hand into the hole, her headache forgotten when her rogue instincts kicked in. "There's something inside..."

"Spiders?"

She froze, paled visibly, shuddered, then glowered at me. "Jerk!" She retrieved her hand, examining it carefully. "You get whatever is inside. It's your palace after all."

It was a journal. Well, several journals bound in leather and scribbled with a terribly untidy handwriting that even beat mine. Sitting on the bed crosslegged we spent the next few hours trying to decipher the scrawl.

"Listen to this." With squinted eyes Rori read out loud: "... The hero is hopping mad. For him the... Maker! How can anybody have such a scrawl! ... fiasco at the circle is all about the foe. There is a threat that makes the foe pale in comparison but the hero won't listen. For him the griffons are the foe's spies. He objects my plans for their return but I won't cave in. Not this time..."

"Mysterious."

Rori tapped her index finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Whoever hid the journals here, it was his room, the king's bedroom. The journals are too old to be Cailan's..."

"Maker's Breath!" I exclaimed. "Do you think what I think this is?"

We looked at each other and gasped in unison: "Maric's diaries!"

"Merciful Andraste! Alistair! Do you know what that means? We could finally find your mother! Your real mother!"

"First we have to decipher his scrawl and his cipher. The hero? The foe? The griffons? Griffons died out a long time ago... What in the name of the Maker does he talk about?"

Rori smacked the back of my head with the journal. "Grey Wardens, stupid!"

"Your stupid Majesty if you please! And don't you dare smacking my royal head again!" Rori didn't seem worried. She just stuck out her tongue at me then returned to the diaries.

"The Wardens were exiled until Maric brought them back. The hero, that's Loghain of course. And that means the foe is Orlais. Didn't Wynne mention Maric and the Wardens visited Kinloch Hold?"

"We have to keep this a secret," I whispered when it finally dawned at me what we had found. I had grown up believing my mother was a maid at Redcliffe Castle. When it was decided I should oppose Anora, Eamon had confessed he had no idea who my mother truly was. "My luck and it turns out my mother is Orlesian."

"Or an elf," Rori added. Ow, an elf certainly would be worse.

"Or a mage. But their children belong to the Chantry."

"She could have been an apostate," Rori pointed out.

"Next you're going to say Maric had an affair with Flemeth and Morrigan is my sister."

"You always wanted a big family! And Morrigan certainly isn't worse than Goldanna..."

"I slept with Morrigan! And killed Flemeth!" I exclaimed in horror.

"Oh... yes... gross. No affair with Flemeth for Maric. But hey, your mum could still turn out an elven mage from Orlais..."

"I'm not sure I really want to know..." We both knew this wasn't true but after Goldanna and with my new job as king, I was both curious and afraid of the truth. "Perhaps he didn't mention her at all..."

"There's only one way to find out." Rori was already skipping through the journal. I put my hands onto the pages to stop her.

"Yes, but not tonight. First I have to digest this... I have to take counsel with my pillow about this." All my life I had yearned to get to know my father and now I held his most private thoughts in my hands. I wasn't prepared for this.

"You're right," Rori said with a gentle smile, handing the journal to me. "It's your choice to decide if you want to know and when."

We stuffed the journals back into the hole and replaced the panel carefully, making sure it wouldn't smash our skulls while we slept. Huddled together in bed, I lay awake for a long time, staring into the darkness. Maker! It sounded so strange. King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden. I sometimes wondered if they had gotten the right man. This all was like a huge mistake. I was sure I would never sleep well again. The nightmares that came with being a Grey Warden, the worries that came with being king... Rori, she was sleeping like a log, her dreamcatcher dangling above her, while I turned problems round and round in my head and sometimes poked Rori when her drunken snoring became too loud. Then she would mumble in her sleep and paw her nose. It was absolutely adorable and gave me a rest of my gloomy thoughts. Not for long, they were too noisy and omnipresent. Eamon had already handed me my schedule for the next day... Duh! Now I was king I had to decide what to do with Gwaren. First point on my agenda. That also meant I had to decide about Anora's fate...

Doom!

DOOM!

Needless to say meeting her wasn't something I was particularily looking forward to. But a king has to do what a king has to do, right?

My advisors weren't happy with my decision. They'd have rather had me order her execution right away. Rori called me insane. She said Anora had proven over and over again I couldn't trust her. Still... deep down inside I knew it was the right thing to do, so that's what I did.

"The capital is destroyed," Anora snapped indignantly as if I was personally responsible the moment I entered her cell at Fort Drakon. She had returned there after the defeat of the archdemon. Not voluntarily of course. Without Sandal she would have been long gone, would have fled and met one of her supporters to form her rebellion against the usurper of the throne. She shouldn't have taken the ring Sandal offered her with an innocent smile when she was about to abandon him in the chaos after the battle. I don't know why she took and wore it but the moment the ring slipped onto her finger, she became as still as a statue. When we finally dropped by to get her, several pigeons had already paid her a visit. Sandal was sitting on a rock next to her like a good boy and fed the birds with crumbs.

"It also is a pleasure to meet you," I dead-panned.

"My father would have never abandoned Denerim!"

I sighed and silently counted to ten. "I'm a busy man. A capital to rebuild, a nation to rule. You know how it is. So could we please skip the blame and talk business?"

Anora snorted loudly. Her imprisonment obviously had not changed her attitude. "You already need my help. I wish I could say I was surprised. Ferelden deserves a true leader but it got a boy playing king."

"It was you to game away your chances to rule this nation," I pointed out.

She snorted and turned her back on me, staring out of the metall-grilled window. She inhabited the luxury version of a cell. Her father hadn't been as kind when he imprisoned Rori and me in the dungeon. Back then Anora could have proven herself. She failed. In the end that was what had brought her here. I bestrode the only chair, resting my arms on the back of the chair. It had seemed right to come here. I even had argued with Rori about it. Now I didn't remember anymore what had brought me here. Anora was the same ice queen she had always been.

"You keep saying you only want the best for Ferelden. Fact is, as long as you live and oppose me you are a threat," I began, running my fingers through my hair tiredly. I still had no clue why anybody would want to be king. My life as a Grey Warden had been far easier for sure. And I had known where to find my foes. Now I met smiling faces everywhere. Of course, your Majesty. As you wish, your Majesty. As you please, your Majesty... Nobody dared to speak openly as long as I was around. I could raid the larder without getting scolded. People actually laughed about my jokes! In case they understood them. Mostly they only did when Rori laughed so hard she snorted her drink out of her nose. That was when the rest joined in with their false laughter... Blast it! If I hadn't known Anora wouldn't hesitate to get rid of me for good, I'd have handed her the blasted crown decoratively wrapped up.

"Did you figure this out yourself or did Eamon spell it out to you?"

"A little bird told me," I dead-panned and Anora glared at me in undisguised contempt. I smiled brightly in return, then quickly closed my mouth before the urge to stick out my tongue became too much to bear. "That leaves two options," I returned to the matter at hand, "either you support me or you die. I'd rather not kill you..."

"You have already murdered my father," Anora hissed. "And now you want me to believe you have a twinge of conscience?"

"Really?" I groaned. "And there people say you're sharp. Well, let's see: Your father abandoned his king, poisoned Eamon, had the Couslands murdered, sold Fereldan citizens to Tevinter slavetraders to only name some of his crimes." I didn't mention Duncan. He was my personal reason and none Anora would ever understand or accept. "He didn't show any sign of remorse when confronted with his actions. If he had only once looked beyond his own nose, if he had only once questioned his motives and actions, he could have saved himself and Ferelden. In case you are as shortsighted, it was a waste of time to come here." I rose and walked towards the door.

"Fine," Anora said icily when I opened the door. "What do you want? My support? And what do I get in return?"

I closed the door again. "Gwaren."

"Gwaren already belongs to me!" Anora snapped. "The people of Gwaren are absolutely loyal. They will never accept anybody else as their teyrn but my fathers rightful heir!"

"You do know that Gwaren was overrun by darkspawn, don't you?"

"Another proof of your incapacity!"

"They sent for help but your father didn't do anything to defend his teyrnir."

"A small sacrifice for a greater good."

"Yeah, well, you can tell that to the people of Gwaren. Most of them escaped. They left with ships and helplessly watched their town being destroyed. I'm afraid they don't think as fondly of your father anymore as they did before the Blight. In Gwaren the name Mac Tir has become a synonym for letting someone down."

"Why are you telling me this?" Anora asked after a long pause. She watched me suspiciously.

"One, because I thought you would be interested in the fate of Gwaren's people. My mistake. Two, to make clear that I can give Gwaren to any noble... or to the people of Gwaren themselves. I do not need to rely on you."

"To the people themselves!?"

"I've been thinking about a royal burgh..." I began. The thought had occured to me when Levi had told me about the Free Marches, the burghs there and the hansa. It sounded truly awesome, cities ruled by an elected council of citizens. That was quite a difference compared to placing the fate of the people in the hands of whatever eldest son or daughter their former ruler had. I mean, look at Vaughan Kendells! Nobody in their right mind would have voted for him!

"You want them to rule themselves!?" Anora exclaimed, truly shocked. "Simple people without any noble blood?"

"May I remind you that your father was born one of these simple people?"

"That... is something completely different!" she said aloofly.

"Ho-hum."

"The landsmeet will never approve your plans!"

"See, there's this funny law that says I can solely appoint a new ruler in case the bloodline of the ruling family goes extinct. That's how Maric could raise your father to the position of teyrn of Gwaren."

"You read the law?" Anora couldn't hide her surprise.

"Nope. Rori knew about it. I wouldn't dare dreaming about shattering your view of me."

"The nobility will soon see what kind of man you are," she foresaw. "They will not accept being reigned by an usurper and then my time has come!"

"In case I am stupid enough to allow you to live on. Really, Anora, is this what you want for Ferelden? Another civil war? Fergus Cousland returned. I will marry his sister. The Guerrins, the Mac Eanraigs, the Brylands, the Drydens..."

"Who?"

"Levi Dryden, newly minted Arl of Denerim. Did I mention that funny real useful law?" I grinned as foolishly as possible. Nothing I'd call challenging. "Anyway, I do not stand alone. Don't mistake my offer for weakness. I am doing this for Ferelden. Us working together would be a benefit for this nation..."

"I offered a marriage! We could have ruled together!"

"You mean, you would have ruled and I would have looked pretty beside you," I corrected her. "Thank you, but no, thank you." Marrying Anora! Duh! I'd rather have fought the archdemon again.

"I will never swear fealty to you! I rather die!" Anora declared in a tone that brooked no dissent.

"As you wish." Followed by her icy silence I walked back to the door without looking back.

"Don't you want to convince me?" Anora asked when I was already through the door.

I turned in the doorway. "No?"

"But you do need me!"

"No, mylady, you need me." Thus said, I slammed the door shut in her face, stepped away from the small rectangle notch in the door so that she couldn't see me anymore and walked on the spot to make it sound as if I was leaving.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Alistair!"

Nice try, really. But she could do better.

"ALISTAIR!"

Wow. Sitting in a cell, facing her certain death and she was still ordering me around. I kept walking.

"Your Majesty!" She sounded as if she was choking on the words.

I stopped, turned with my boots making a clearly audible crunching sound on the ground. "Did you say something?"

"I've thought about your offer," Anora said. "Maybe we can come to an agreement." I walked on the spot some more to make it sound as if I returned then stepped back into sight.

"Fine, so let's see, you swear fealty in front of the assembled landsmeet. I advice you practice in front of a mirror. With that sore an expression you will convince nobody. And I want you to convince them that I am the one and only rightful king. You will waive your claim. Better don't try any of your tricks. Don't even think about it."

"Why? Would you kill me like you killed my father?"

"If like him you didn't leave me no option, yes, I would." That shut her up effectively.

"I hate you!" she spat in my face.

"That's alright. I, too, ain't particularily fond of you. Hate me all you want as long as you do what you so much like to tell everybody and their dog is your only meaning of life: Ferelden." Whoa! I was impressed of myself of how cool and nonchalant I sounded when my knees felt like pudding and I was sweating so heavily a goldfish could have easily survived in my armpits.

"What do I get in return?"

"Your life, your freedom, your teyrnir."

"What makes you so sure I won't regulate my objectives once I am free?"

"You're not stupid, Anora. Insidious. Felon. Malicious. All of that but not stupid. And you do love Ferelden. You know that another civil war will tear this country apart and would weaken it to a point where Orlais only had to reach out and take what is offered on a silver plater."

"That is uncharacteristically wise of you," Anora observed after a long pause.

"Shush! That's just between the two of us. People could get the wrong impression." I said dryly. "Deal?"

"We have an agreement," Anora answered snobbishly. "Now open that door immediately!"
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Hoping One Day We'll Make A Dream Last