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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Sorry for the long wait, folks.
Comments by the way are very welcome.

@anon: Remember Zevran fleeing after an assassination, falling into the river and getting robbed by a gang of bosy? Or when he only accidentally made a kill after getting seduced by his target? So we'll see if this is being clumsy or on purpose ;) Thanks a lot for commenting and reading.
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Chapter 12 - No More Mr. Nice Guy

"Where is the king? We demand to know! There are rumors he is dead,” Bann Esmerelle’s shrill voice echoed through the vast throne hall. Of those who were in Denerim, many nobles had gathered to pester my chancellor with questions he couldn’t answer. He put on his game face as he turned to the agitated crowd, but there wasn’t much he could do to calm them down.
“In times like these, Ferelden needs a strong leader,” Leonas Bryland insisted. “We have to decide what to do now...”
“King Alistair is not dead,” Teagan snapped furiously, coming to stand side by side with his elder brother. “He’s only been gone for a day. The chancellor is capable of directing the affairs of this nation until we know more about Alistair’s whereabouts and fate.”
“And how long do you intend to keep us waiting?” Franderel snorted, his jowls and double chin wobbled as he talked. He always reminded me of a huge vat of pudding come to life. “Your puppet king, that indecisive weakling you manipulated for your own advantage, is gone...”
WHAT!? Whoa!
“I’ve heard enough,” I informed Rori through gritted teeth. The two of us were huddled in one of the side corridors that led into the throne hall. We had snuck back into the palace—unnoticed by anybody but Barkspawn and Furdinand—in time to witness the gathering of my dear fealty. Mental note to myself: I had to talk to my safety officer. But first, I had to regain control over my kingdom.
“Good evening, lords and ladies. Did you miss me?” My voice rung strong and clear through the vast throne hall when I barged in in all my royal glory.
My sudden entrance startled the gathered nobility out of their heated discussion. Heads turned, jaws dropped, the emotions ranging from shocked to gloating. Some openly showed their anger and disappointment; others wore relieved smiles. I strode right through their midst with all the kingliness I could muster. They hurriedly made way for me and bowed—more or less. Some seemed very reluctant, but as my glare bore into them, they hurried to correct their lack of etiquette.
“Yeah, damn right!” I silently muttered to myself. “I am some mighty king and they better not mess with me! I am the one in charge! The one with the power!”
Just a reminder. I tended to forget I had jumped ship and was now the one setting the course. I was on a trajectory toward crisis, the first—though certainly not the last—of my reign four months after my coronation. Ferelden’s nobility saw a weak leader and was striving to get the advantage of their fellow nobles by pre-empting them. In the best case, they tried by manipulating their foolish monarch. In the worst case... I dropped the box with the evidence on the floor in front of my throne before taking a seat.
Taking refuge with me, Rori hurried to stand behind me, ducking in the shadows as if she still hoped she could make herself invisible after our dramatic entrance. Teagan reached out for her, stopping dead when Furdinand and I growled at him in unison. I’d really like to fool myself into believing it was my manliness and pugnacity, but I’m afraid the dog made the difference.
“As you all can see, I am here now, alive and still kicking,” I declared, radiating kingliness—meaning I tried not to let show I was a clueless dork occupying an oversized chair. Seething with anger probably helped to cover me up. “Thank you for visiting. We hope you enjoyed your stay. Please pick up your daughters on your way out. Goodbye.” I glowered at every single one of them until my face hurt from all the gloomy frowning. My glare dared them to object. Challenge me, it said, and I will... I will... err... well, I don’t know what I will do... but it for sure won’t be pleasant!
Stunned silence. They all gawked at me as if I had sprouted a second head, but no one moved. My scowl became quite forced, my poise wavered and I could feel that foolish grin tugging at the corners of my lips... Blast! Oh, come on! They were dismissed. I really didn’t want to call security to throw them out!
Bryland was the first to recover his voice. “Your Majesty,” he muttered still flabbergasted, bowed and marched off. Then the other nobles chickened-out quickly. It was the very first time I spoke up for myself in a language they could understand. I had to be rude to make them listen. Anora had once described me as kind, well-mannered, and biddable—an impression that deceived the nobles into thinking they could manipulate, ignore, and bash me as they pleased.
Well, eat that! Play time was over! No more Mr. Nice Guy! Starting now, I was going to return fire.
Utterly pleased with myself, I leaned back comfortably, crossing my arms behind my head.
“Alistair!” Eamon snapped, aghast, as soon as they were all gone. “You offended them!”
“I offended them!?” I laughed, so not amused. “Are you kidding me? For the last few hours I’ve investigated a conspiracy to murder me.” I kicked the box so forcefully it upset and a flood of Anoras disgorged on the floor. “In the meantime, they’ve got nothing on their minds but how to take over my kingdom!”
“Anora?” Teagan asked, picking up one of the Furelden posters. “Do you believe she’s behind this?”
“I doubt she could lead a rebellion without the support of the nobility,” Rori dared to speak up.
“Such as you?” Teagan growled, causing her to shrink back into the shadows. She was terrified of getting dragged back to Fort Drakon. I had to do a whole lot of persuading to make her return to the palace with me. She would have rather remained hidden at Mrs. Couldry’s place instead.
“Leave her be, Teagan,” I ordered in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion. “I pardon her for whatever she has or hasn’t done.”
Meanwhile Eamon examined the contents of the box, confiscated the Anora posters and coded correspondence. “This is serious,” he muttered.
“You don’t say!”
“Your Majesty, if Anora is behind this, you must take action,” Eamon argued. “In case she is not involved, she still is too dangerous to be ignored. As long as she opposes you openly, her life is forfeit. Killing her, however, would make her a martyr. You have to convince her to swear fealty.”
Yeah, Anora was a problem. When had Anora not been a problem? As far as I remembered she had been problematic from the start. Secretly I had begun to call her ‘Annoyra’ awhile ago, and she was really living up to that name. I so wasn’t going to like what Eamon had to say. Maker preserve me! Anora couldn’t have done me the favor of dying during the darkspawn siege, could she?
“Spit it out already,” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose tiredly. Maker, I was in desperate need of a drink!
“Anora wants to recover a position of power—she wants to be queen again,” Eamon spelled out the obvious. “There is only one way you can keep your throne and she can become queen...”
“Are you saying I should marry her?” I croaked in mere disbelief. Right, it would steal the thunder of her cohorts. The last of the Theirin bloodline and the daughter of Ferelden’s most famous general. It had worked before—a union for the kingdom’s benefit. “Wow, be assassinated by political opponents or marry Anora. How does someone make this kind of choice?”
Blast it! I was king! Nobody could force me to do what I did not want to do. Still, I had a responsibility I could not ignore. There was a difference between entertaining a mistress and—with one’s eyes open—heading straight for a disaster. My death would cause a vacuum of power and most likely a civil war. Anora and her minions were wrong when they believed everybody would happily accept her return.
Doom!
DOOM!
“Get Anora here first thing tomorrow,” I ordered, not daring to look at Rori. Blast it! I had never lied to her about our possible relationship. Still, I felt like a complete jerk. “I have to talk to her.”
Well, that was settled and yet it didn’t let me be. My mind wasn’t at ease but rather so occupied with my coming encounter with Annoyra that I didn’t listen much to the admonitions Eamon had in store for me. When I finally escaped, I couldn’t pluck up the courage to talk to Rori. While Eamon had lectured me about responsibility, she had sunk into the shadows like a ghost and silently disappeared. Shame on me; I was too exhausted, emotionally drained, and beaten down by what had happened within a single day, I just dragged myself into my room, slammed the door shut, locked it thoroughly, and hoped beyond hope that Arlington hadn’t detected all of my hiding places.
I dug up two bottles of wine from a flower tub on the balcony. Ever since Barkspawn had buried a dead hare in there—found by my butler several days later—Arlington steered clear of the flower tubs. I wasn’t above using this to my advantage. I shrugged out of my soil-stained shirt, settled in an armchair with my bare feet resting on the rail, and drank straight from the bottle, watching the velvet canopy of the night sky dotted with a myriad of stars, the moon round and yellow like a wheel of cheese. It was a mild night with a soft breeze blowing from the sea, a cool caress against my bare skin.
Anora... I couldn’t even stand her! Once upon a time I admired her, but she wasn’t the queen I thought her to be. After four months of struggling for survival in this shark-infested sea they call politics, my admiration for her was revived. That, however, didn’t make me think fondly of her. Quite the contrary.
So, let’s see...
Pro Anora—Smothering a rebellion, preventing a civil war, being able to drop unpleasant political decisions on the queen, making Ferelden great again.
Contra Anora—She was a bitch! And I would be shackled with her for the rest of my life!
Just Alistair would have said thank you, but no thank you. King Alistair, however, couldn’t decide without considering the greater good of the kingdom.
What would Suri have done? She hated Anora’s guts and the sentiment was mutual. They had tricked and outwitted each other in a way that still left me aghast. Suri’s plans had been quite clear:
1. Make Alistair king.
2. Save the world.
3. Make sure Alistair doesn’t mess up the whole king business.
Just because I had broken up with her didn’t mean she was going to abandon me. Suri had been thrilled by the possibilities of my power—and she had intended to use it. But death thwarted her plans. I was on my own.
And then there was Rori... She was an adorable young lady. I... I didn’t know if I loved her… I liked her enough to kiss her, and if there had been a choice, I would have rather spent the rest of my life, in good times and in bad, with her. The Couslands were the most powerful family in Ferelden now that the Mac Tirs had lost their titles and lands. They could have made a difference in the political landscape. Rori would have been the perfect wife if not for Howe’s perfidy. He had made sure she became a blemish on the Cousland name. I couldn’t present her as my wife no more than I could have chosen Suri.
Maker preserve me!
The prospect of marrying a woman I thoroughly disliked while the one I loved dearly was dead and gone and the one I was smitten with was proscribed wasn’t exactly putting me in a bright mood...
Nobody can force the king to do what the king doesn’t want to do...
Well, fuck that!
Disquietude and agitation seized me, driving me out of my chair. In a fit of frustration, I tossed the empty bottle into the night. Why did life have to be so damn unfair? Sighing, I leaned on the railing, my face raised toward the black sky mocking me with its peaceful beauty, a stark contrast to the havoc inside of me. “I defy you, stars! Ay me! Oh Rori, Rori, wherefore art thou Rori?!”
“Well, who else should I be?”
Startled, I bent across the rail only to find Rori standing on the lawn. I flashed her a smile, my eyes lighting up with joy. She just had that effect on me. “Hey there,” I heard myself say, my voice as smooth as a caress, a stupid grin plastered across my face. I even waved foolishly. Frowning, Rori waved back hesitantly. “Why don’t you come up?”
She shuffled her feet uneasily. “Oh... you certainly have a whole lot of things to do... what with your plans to marry Anora and all...”
I heaved a very deep sigh. Women! I would never understand them. “I believe it could be necessary and inevitable for the sake of my kingdom. That’s got nothing to do with what I want.”
“Oh,” was all Rori had to say. Her eyes were a deep blue sea of sadness. Then, all of a sudden, just when I opened my mouth to tell her I had never promised her anything, an expression of utmost defiance crossed her face. “Bloody blast it!” she muttered. Next, clinging to the climbing trellis actually reserved for the rambler roses with their bright red blossoms, she began her ascent. “Ouch! Blasted thorns!”
“You realize we do have these things called doors, right? People use them to move from one room to another,” I chuckled in relief, reaching for her hand to pull her over the railing.
“Fergus locked mine and put a guard in front of it,” Rori growled, hauling herself onto the balcony. “Ow! Blast it! There’s a thorn stuck in my finger...”
“Let me see.” I offered, gently but resolutely taking her hand in mine when she pulled away. She gave in, presenting the most adorable pout. She wasn’t yet willing to fully forgive me. “There it is.” I plucked the thorn from her finger. A droplet of blood like a crimson pearl beaded on her fingertip. Lifting her hand to my lips I sucked her finger into my mouth. Rori gasped in reply, watching me with wide round eyes. “Hmm...” I kissed her fingertips one by one, then turned her hand to press my lips at the inside of her wrist, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Alistair,” she breathed when I flicked my tongue at her wrist, my breath hot against her smooth skin. I pulled her against my chest, my arm firmly wrapped around her waist. She tilted her head back to meet my lips and teasingly I nipped hers, smiling at her disappointed pout. It turned into an open-mouthed moan when I kissed the crook of her neck, moved my lips past her throat, across her jaw and, brushing her hair aside, toward her ear. Rori trembled in my arms, her body pressed against mine. She mewed softly, breathing my name over and over again.
Finally I kissed her and my whole being melted in the gentle warmth of her mouth. Passion engulfed us, an increasing stormy urgency that took hold of us until kisses were nowhere near enough anymore.
I swept Rori off her feet and right into my arms. Never breaking the kiss, I carried her toward my bed. Her nails dug into my flesh as I laid her down, her body tensed up. She was torn between desire and fear, her body’s response to my caress conflicted the turmoil of emotions crashing down on her.
“Hush,” I whispered soothingly. Intertwining my fingers with hers. “You do not have to do anything you do not want to do. No means no, okay?”
“Ser, yes, ser.” She saluted. A timid attempt of bravery on her side, garnished with a shy smile. She inhaled deeply, her trembling hands sliding from my shoulders and across my chest, wavering between awe and fear as if she was stroking a beautiful but deadly predator ready to bite her head off.
This was a whole new experience for me, too. When Suri and I first had made love to each other, I had still been a... um... virgin. Suri had been my mentor, I her eager student. No matter how much time we spent together, I had never really graduated.
With Rori and me it was the other way round. She knew nothing but violence and pain. I had the power to give her pleasure and introduce her to the sensual beauty of lovemaking.
Merciful Andraste! Now I was as nervous as Rori.
We kissed, tenderly, gently. By sheer force of will I managed to keep my hands to myself while I allowed her to explore my body. Only when her touch became confident and the trembling of her hands subsided, I allowed myself to delve into the voluptuousness of her body. My hands crept underneath her blouse, roamed the flat of her belly before I found the courage to cup her breasts...
Lady’s Breath!
Her heated flesh fit softly into my palms, my thumbs brushed across her hardening nipples... Oh, she moaned so beautifully, squirming with pleasure as she rubbed against me, pressing closer... I needed to feel her, flesh against flesh... alas, Rori was reluctant to take off her shirt, swatting at my hands when I began to unbutton it.
“No!” she gasped and I froze, a button caught between my fingertips. “Don’t look at me... I... I am... ugly...”
I had felt the torus of her scars littering her body, contours hardly noticeable and hardened embossments, small cavities of thinner, wrinkly skin—every single one telling its own tale of her struggle for survival.
I cupped her face, placing a soft kiss on her lips but she was already retreating into her shell. To me, she was beautiful in all her imperfect glory. But whatever reassurance I could have offered she was unlikely to believe. Not when it sounded as if I was feeling pity for her. Pity didn’t work well with Rori. It made her angry. So, I guess, it was time to take off the velvet gloves...
“So you are the Beast; can I be Beauty?” I asked, presenting a lopsided grin. Rori, just about to push me away, stopped dead and blinked at me flabbergasted. Next, her face was lit with an impish grin. The gloom in her eyes just poofed! and was replaced with a mischievous twinkle.
“Rawwwrrr,” she purred—and bit my lower lip, drawing blood. I opened my mouth to protest but was silenced by a bold siege of my lips. When we parted, our breathing ragged, faces flushed, there was no piece of clothing left to get in the way but my pants.
Rori gave in to her carnal desire, driven by a powerful instinctive impulse. She didn’t pause to think, bracing herself to blank out the hideous memories still haunting her. She pretty much knocked me flat on the mattress. We rolled around, limbs entangled, hands roaming each other’s bodies. The cute mewing noises she made when I sucked her nipples into my mouth sent fiery shivers down my spine, a bolt going straight into my loins. Merciful Andraste! I wanted her so much, my nerves tingled, flooding me with a sensation of maddening desire.
Rori was hot and moist and ready, my fingers moving between her legs were slick with her juices. My manhood was throbbing, straining my pants. Maker! The need to feel her, to fill her was excruciating. Hurriedly I shrugged out of my pants...
The moment my length became visible to her, Rori froze, all color draining from her face.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked in alarm.
“Nothing...” she said too quickly, her voice trembling. “It’s okay...” Something was absolutely not okay. One moment she was all over me, now she seemed downright scared. “It’s... everything is fine.” she breathed, recoiling when I reached out for her. “I... I just didn’t think it would be so very... huge!”
What?!
We both stared down at my erection.
Awkward.
Whatever courage she had summoned it dissolved at the sight of my obviously rather intimidating length. The idiotic pang of male pride I felt about my grandness didn’t make up for the disappointment that came with the throbbing of unsatisfied desire. I was quite in a sullen mood but one look at Rori, hugging the pillow to her chest to cover her nakedness, and my irritation dispersed. She was a picture of misery, caught in a flashback of the nightmare she had survived.
I didn’t tell her there was no reason to feel sorry when she cried. I didn’t assure her she would be fine. I didn’t whisper sweet nonsense to her we both knew wasn’t true.
Instead, I gave her my handkerchief to blow her snotty nose, safely wrapped her in my arms and told her all of Oghren’s bad jokes until her sobs turned into giggles, adorned with the most adorable hiccup ever.
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What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted