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What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4863 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or any of the Dragon Age characters. This is a non-profit fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
@Anon: Thanks for reviewing. Yep, Zev wasn't exactly nice here. ;)
Chapter 11 - Collateral Damage
Breathe, Alistair. Breathe!
The pain in my chest was excruciating. The pressure of unshed tears unleashed a splitting headache. My mouth was dry; I had trouble swallowing. All I wanted to do was curl up and weep. I was sure I would collapse. I even turned to look over my shoulder, expecting to see myself on the ground. Instead, I kept walking.
The entire time Zevran’s jovial babbling hailed down on me as if he intended to lapidate me with his confession. He was mercilessly forthcoming with information I would have rather done without. At the same time, I was dying to know every single agonizing detail. I learned that Neria Surana, the love of my life, had sought refuge in Zevran’s arms the very moment I left her after ending our relationship. While I had spent the night drowning in unhappiness and devoured by guilt, she had taken part in some excessive lamppost licking. Zevran gave a rather detailed description but I was too weak to fend him off, too shocked to feel embarrassed. The following nights until her death she had spent in the company of the Antivan elf. “She kept it secret because she didn’t want to hurt you,” Zevran confided to me.
“How very considerate of her,” I heard myself mutter. I so didn’t sound like myself.
Relax. Take it easy.
So Suri messed about with Zevran after you dumped her. No big deal, right? She didn’t owe you anything, least of all faithfulness. You made it clear you were going to marry another woman. So, it’s only reasonable she found herself another man—within five minutes after you broke up with her...
Breathe, Alistair. Breathe!
Zevran was there for her when you failed her. True, you never trusted that two-faced bastard. But honestly, Alistair, your aversion was mostly caused by your rivalry. You’re jealous, that’s it. Suri found him attractive and his nonchalance intimidated you from the very beginning. Then she chose you over him—the biggest ego boost ever. You suddenly felt like a real manly man. No reason to feel emasculated now. Zevran, he’s only the consolation prize.
Relax. Take it easy.
She didn’t spend her last days alone, but found comfort. Well, good for her! You wouldn’t want to begrudge her that little bit of solace, would you? Don’t you claim to love her? How true is your love when you get into a huff because she didn’t break down, her heart forever broken and unable to ever love again?
Well, wasn’t it awesome? I hadn’t expected I could feel worse after Zevran’s little admission. Boy, was I wrong!
Next to feeling betrayed and discarded and useless, next to wondering if our love had meant anything at all to Suri or if I had been fooled by an illusion, I was confronted with a truth that was especially hard to swallow—that I did indeed selfishly expected Suri to suffer as I was suffering. All this time I had castigated myself for having left her broken-hearted and alone—and now that I found she had recovered rather quickly, I was affronted by her heartlessness. Love had left me bruised, broken, and bleeding and I resented her for being the faster healer.
And she said I had a heart of gold!
Yeah, fool’s gold...
Maker preserve me!
I was hardly paying attention to where we went. I certainly wasn’t listening to Zevran anymore. No matter where his words ricocheted they still hit the mark and cut me like a thousand knives. Finally, there was silence. Zevran patted my shoulder, acting as if he had done me a big favor by enlightening me. Then, trudging after my companions, I was left alone with my inner monologue. There I came face to face with myself and I didn’t at all like what I was confronted with.
And no booze anywhere to drown those merciless thoughts, that self-awareness.
Doom!
DOOM!
Suddenly, a small hand slipped into mine and squeezed it comfortingly. I didn’t dare look at Rori. I was afraid I would start bawling right away without being able to stop.
“What exactly did you hear?” I croaked.
“Just about everything,” Rori admitted. She didn’t let go of my hand. I cannot express how grateful I was for this small gesture. “He didn’t exactly keep his voice down.”
“I’m a terrible man,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Terrible men usually don’t feel bad about their terribleness,” Rori said matter-of-factly. “They either find excuses to justify it, or they simply don’t give a damn. I’ve met both types. You’re neither of them.”
She had a point. Still...
“Rori...” I began, strictly watching my feet as I couldn’t pluck up the courage to look her in the eyes. I had to sort this whole mess out with her. I couldn’t just wait and see how things would develop. With Suri, I had never discussed our relationship until it had been too late. I had seen it coming—okay, more like Eamon had spelled it out for me—but like a coward I had avoided the topic around Suri. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again. Rori deserved better.
“Shush! I don’t want to hear anything about what we should and what we shouldn’t do just because someone—Maker forbid!—could feel offended,” she exclaimed while I was still stammering foolishly, trying to force the right words—or at least some comprehendible words—forward. “You’re the king. Nobody can force you to do what you do not want to. And I’m the black sheep; I can do whatever I want anyway.” Her face wore an expression of utmost defiance.
My jaw dropped. “Wh-what!? Are you... are you saying...?” My voice faded to a hushed whisper. “I mean... are you hinting that you... and I... I mean, we can’t marry. You know that, right? Are you saying I should carry on with whomever I want? You don’t think that would be very unfair to my... wife as well as... you?” When I had to break up with Suri, I had shortly considered the option of asking her to be my mistress. The mere thought now made me blush bright red. Really, that’s nothing you suggest to a woman! ‘Hey! You’re not marriage material but I’d still like to... err... lick lampposts with you on a regular basis!’ No way! I had been raised to be a gentleman and such arrangements certainly weren’t gentlemanly in the slightest. Rori, however, didn’t seem to mind.
“Can’t we, for once, just enjoy life without any worries about the future or about other people’s opinions? About our duty and whatever other restrictions and limitations? I’m so sick of reality, Alistair. It keeps beating me down at every single turn.” Rori sighed. “It will all come crashing down on us again soon. But for now, I’d like to ignore it altogether.” Pause. “And you do not have a wife,” she added sullenly, forcefully kicking a stone down the road, “Not yet.” She wasn’t as cool about this as she wanted me to believe.
“B-but... your reputation...”
“How much more defiled could it possibly get?” Rori snorted. “Everybody already thinks I’m a whore anyway.”
“But... are you sure? I mean... after what has happened to you... I don’t want to hurt you...” Or break her heart... Maker, I so didn't need history to repeat itself when I married. That scene between Suri and me when I broke things off was nothing I ever wanted to be forced to undergo again.
Rori smiled sadly, then tiptoed to give me a peck on the cheek.
“What was that for?”
“Just for you being you,” she grinned. In the following silence her smile faded. “I don’t know what is to come,” she admitted in a small voice. “It’s all so confusing. I hardly know which way is up and which is down. I’m so lost I’m grasping at straws. I don’t know how much I can handle until I am confronted with the situation. I figure all I can do is say ‘Bloody blast it!’ and give it a try. I may change my mind. I may get hurt. I may cause harm... accidentally… but I cannot just sit idly by anymore and do nothing but cry and allow others to shove me around as they plan my life away.” Her tone became downright insolent. “It’s my life for fuck’s sake! I need to take charge of it.”
Thus said, she shoved me against the nearest wall, grabbed me by the front of my shirt, and kissed me with fierce passion.
Maker’s Breath! Why exactly did I want to turn her offer down? Whatever the reason may have been, it went right out of the window when I tasted the sweet luxury of her kiss—a sensual pleasure, velvety, moist, and so damn hot it made my nerves tingle with desire.
When we parted, she was breathless and prettily flushed; I was swooning. “Well, the day’s looking up already,” I muttered under my breath, a slight smirk playing at the corners of my mouth.
“That wasn’t too bold, was it?” Rori asked timidly, her dark eyes wide and round.
“Not at all,” I grinned foolishly, shifting around uneasily to hide my rather prominent arousal. “Go ahead, just woman-handle me whenever you like.” Rori blushed a deeper shade of crimson. She was adorable in her timid embarrassment.
The prospect of invigorating ties with Rori was quite thrilling. Since Suri had jumped into Zevran’s bed right after I had terminated our relationship, my own reluctance of inviting another woman into mine wavered immensely. Rori had quite turned my head. And she—unlike Surana—was my best friend. I had always felt a bit intimidated around Suri; with Rori, I felt like I could be just Alistair. Did I like Rori? A lot. I daresay I was even a bit smitten with her. Did I want her? Blast yes!
Shame on me—I had a rather childish and stupid ‘That’s what you get!’ feeling thinking about my lost love. That very moment, I just couldn’t help it.
“You’re right,” I accepted Rori’s indecent proposal with a ‘might as well’ attitude. Suddenly, a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had been so busy satisfying everyone else’s expectations in between my grieving stupor that I had seldom dared to stage protests. “Damn them all anyhow! They made me king, so I will be king. And I will do exactly what I want to do...” I punched my fist in my palm. “The first thing I will do when we are back at the palace is throw all those bachelorettes out. Vultures in disguise, that’s what they are!” I got really excited about the power I hadn’t before now realized I had. “And then I will pardon you, and Eamon can’t do a damn thing about it! Ha!” I was very pleased with myself. “After all that, I will found the National Cheese Association and introduce a Cheese Holiday...”
“Maker forgive me!” Rori laughed. “I’ve created a monster!”
Having overheard our conversation, Slim wasn’t nearly as delighted as I. “Merciful Andraste! My mum will smite you with her ladle, king or no!” he hissed indignantly.
“Why? Doesn’t she like cheese?” I asked.
“She certainly doesn’t like cheesy characters,” Slim growled, poking his finger at my chest.
“Err... what... you mean... Rori and I?” I stammered. “But your mum said I should take care of myself...”
“Did she tell you to live in sin?” the faithful Andrastian snapped. “I doubt it!”
“Boys!” Rori interjected in a tone that made both Slim and me duck our heads and shut up effectively. Her voice took on a softer note when she punched Slim’s arm playfully. “I can decide for myself, Slim, thank you.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Umm... yes... I only wanted... I...” The big lad became all flustered. “Y-yes, Lady Rori,” he muttered, darting her a yearning look.
What the...!? Slim and... Rori!? Well, more like Slim and his wishful thinking as Rori was blithely oblivious.
The halfblood glowered at me menacingly and like his mum, sharply pointed two fingers at his eyes.
Right, I was under surveillance—and the Couldry family was not one to pick a quarrel with. I groaned inwardly. I didn’t want to go down in history as the first king beaten to death by an old elven lady with a wooden ladle!
By now we had reached our destination—one of the old townhouses in a wealthy area of the city that had survived the darkspawn attack without much damage. Slim had equipped Rori and me with simple outfits of a solid quality and rather useful gugels to hide our faces. These new disguises allowed us to carry weapons without drawing too much attention—unthinkable for a halfblood or an alienage elf!
“I’d very much appreciate if you didn’t kill anybody,” Slim reminded us as we gathered in a narrow back alley. One of Slim’s many cousins on the watch reported our suspect hadn’t left the house before she disappeared in a nearby mansion where she worked as a kitchen girl.
“This man plotted the assassination of our royal friend,” Zevran pointed out, balancing a dagger on his fingertip. He catapulted it into the air, catching it again with deadly grace. By the look Slim shot me, he didn’t mind much anymore if anybody assassinated me. I very much hoped he kept his pacifism in mind.
“Whoa! Easy! We don’t know that for sure. I would like to talk to him and hear what he has to say before I judge him, alright?” I muttered, distracted by Slim’s sour expression.
“How much more evidence do you need?” Zevran laughed, fishing a poster out of a dustbin next to the backdoor of the seneschal’s home. It was one of many. Every single one sported a picture of Anora looking stern and queenly. The slogan ‘Make Furelden Great Again’ stretched above her head.
“Someone’s a bad speller,” Rori observed with a laugh.
“Bad spelling is no crime—neither in Fur- nor in Fer-elden,” I grinned involuntarily. Boy! If Anora could have seen this she would have thrown a fit. She was quite a perfectionist—and, for now, safely locked away at Fort Drakon. “I admit, though, this is rotten. The seneschal will have to answer a whole lot of unpleasant questions. There’ll be a trial. Ferelden is a state under the rule of law, you see.”
“Ah, but as king you are the law, my virtuous friend,” Zevran sniggered, wagging the dagger at me.
“The law says bring him in alive,” I growled, cutting my finger when I tried to snatch the dagger from the murderous elf.
“Careful! If I had smeared the blade with poison you’d be dead now,” Zevran scolded me oh so very softly. “All this effort to keep you alive wasted within a heartbeat...” I shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold.
“Alistair’s right,” Rori agreed as she took my hand to examine the cut and wrap my finger with my handkerchief. She, of course, had none of her own. “If he’s our man, he certainly didn’t plot this all by himself. He could provide information about the instigators.”
“Could it possibly be... Anora?” Zevran asked sarcastically.
“Not her style,” Rori insisted. “She’s more sophisticated.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen Anora when it’s about staying in power,” I muttered. “She’s a ruthless bitch! She sold out her own father to keep her fancy crown.” Too bad for her, Suri had been an equally unscrupulous liar. Anora’s face when she had finally realized she had been outwitted by an elven mage... Priceless!
“Folks!” Slim Couldry tapped my shoulder. “I don’t want to interrupt your certainly important and interesting discussion, but our suspect is skedaddling.”
We all spun round right in time to see the seneschal sneaking out of his backdoor. Zevran hauled himself over the dustbin, blocked the seneschal’s way and—drawing his dagger—shoved him backwards into the house. The man opened his mouth but no more than a gurgling sound and a gush of blood came out. Then he stumbled backwards, slipping off the blade that had run him through.
“Bloody blast it!” Rori exclaimed, quickly closing the door behind us.
My sentiments exactly.
“ZEVRAN!” I barked, both aghast and furious at the sight of the corpse on the floor of the narrow dark corridor. It smelled of dust and cabbage, now mingling with the metallic stench of blood. “What about ‘Do NOT kill him!’ was so hard to understand?!”
“I tripped over the threshold,” the Antivan assassin sulked, wiping the blade on the seneschal’s tunic. “There’s no reason to be upset.”
“No reason? NO REASON!?” I breathed, close to hyperventilating, as I gestured at the dead seneschal. I was very much tempted to strangle the elf. Slim Couldry leaned against the wall, muttering prayers under his breath. He was ashen and most unhappy about the situation. I couldn’t blame him.
“That’s the first and last time I work with you,” the halfblood informed us. “Merciful Andraste! Mum was right about you, Zevran. You are a shady character. Maker! She’ll hold this over my head for ages.”
“It was an accident!” Zevran pouted. “The next time someone tries to murder you, Alistair, my ungrateful friend, don’t come to me for help!”
“What was that?” Rori suddenly said, perking up her head. “Did you hear that? Is there someone else in the house...?” Zevran jumped into action and over the corpse before Rori’s words had sunken into my mind. We looked at each other at the same time, aghast. Then Rori darted after Zevran as quick as lightning.
“Holy fucking shit!” her voice sounded from a room down the corridor. “DON’T...!”
“Collateral damage,” Zevran answered dispassionately.
Slim cursed under his breath. “You wait here,” I ordered, hurrying after Rori and the blasted assassin. The room was furnished as an office; a desk loaded with various papers stood close to the window. Zevran already wrapped the body of another man dressed like a servant into a carpet.
“He attacked me,” Zevran defended himself when he caught sight of my expression.
“That’s what people usually do when violent strangers break into their houses,” I snapped. “Couldn’t you disarm him?” This was a disaster. I hadn’t intended to harm anybody. Now two men were dead and all I had to show for it was a dustbin filled with misspelled pro-Anora posters and Rori’s description of the man who had hired her to assassinate me.
“This man wasn’t a skilled warrior,” Rori confirmed, frowning suspiciously at the Antivan elf. “You are. Why did you kill him?”
Zevran shrugged. “Alas, my adorable little imp, in the heat of the moment I overestimated the danger. I am sorry. Can you forgive me?” He clasped his hands over his heart in obviously feigned remorse.
Oh that blasted elf!
While I verbally stomped Zevran into the ground, Rori examined the desk. “Alistair,” she called both excitedly and alarmed. The papers she had found lying around openly on the desk next to more Anora-advertisements were alternate versions of Loghain’s propaganda posters used against the Grey Wardens and me during the Blight.
They called me a usurper and Orlesian puppet, argued I had murdered Cailan with the help of the Grey Wardens so I could claim the throne. The Blight had actually been an Orlesian invasion, the archdemon Empress Celene’s pet dragon, my mother an Orlesian spy stealing poor Maric’s sperm. Anora, of course, had been pregnant with Cailan’s heir and I had murdered their child...
Charming.
“Ludicrous nonsense,” Rori muttered, wavering between amusement and anger.
“Damn dangerous ludicrous nonsense,” Zevran observed. “You, my dear royal friend, have a mighty big problem. Don’t tell me you still object to me killing these bastards.”
“Bastards we now can’t interrogate, so thanks for that.” I growled, rubbing my temples exhaustedly. My headache had returned full force.
Zevran shrugged. “Nobody is perfect.”
“You should to talk to Anora,” Rori suggested. She effectively collected the evidence and dropped it into a box she found under the table while Zevran stood around uselessly and sulked. I stood around uselessly and brooded. Slim stood around uselessly and wished he had never met us.
“Yeah,” I agreed listlessly. “There’s nothing I would rather do!”
Oh happy day!
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What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted