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How to Adopt a Warden and Other Tales	By : Royality Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2658 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Alistair panicked as he took off the armored gloves to dry his loved one’s face. “Who did this to you?” he asked while trying to keep his rage in check, but the look Izarre gave him before jerking away was rather accusatory. “Did I…do something?” Again, there was no answer as watched the young man stand to quickly wipe away the remaining tears. He stood as well, frowning as he had to keep guessing at the problem. “It’s about me being king, isn’t it? Well, if it makes you that upset then I won’t do it.” It seemed like the right thing to say, but he became unhinged once again as he was scoffed at.
“I’m not worried about you being king,” Izarre said flatly as he pushed his hair from his eyes. “Who said anything about that?”
“Well, I’m worried about being king,” Alistair grumbled as he crossed his arms. “But if you’re not then why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” was the lie told.
“Uh huh,” the nonbeliever said. “And I’m the Viscount of Kirkwall.” Izarre sniffled loudly at the bad joke. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on or should I just start cleaning up feathers?” Letting out an exhausted sigh, the smaller warden finally relaxed as he flopped on top of the floor mattress. It caused the feathers in questions to flutter every which way. Even more so after he yanked the sword out and tilted it to look at his family crest.
“I saw my father back there, you know. It was just a flicker. I know it wasn’t really him, but…”
“Oh,” Alistair frowned as he remembered. He moved to sit down next to his lover, kicking up a few bits of fluff in the process. “I had almost forgotten about that…Is that what…?”
“He said he forgave me, but the Maker knows what I’m thinking even if I don’t talk about it.”
“What are you thinking, Izzy?” Alistair’s voice remained calm and collected as he let go of his own problems for the moment.
“That I want to drive this sword into Arl Howe’s skull. That I want to make Loghain feel what everyone else did when he betrayed them at the end. That…sting. I don’t want to just kill them, Alistair. I want to hurt them.” It was a brutally honest confession, something the other warden understood very well. To it, he nodded as he looked down and took Izarre’s free hand with his own.
“We’ll get them both, I promise you.”
“It’s eating me alive. This…sickness. I never felt like this before.” The green eyes turned upward. “Not just vengeance. I…I can’t control myself when it comes to you either.”
“You…want to stab me with that sword, do you?” teased the future king and Izarre shook his head with a smile.
“I’m sure I’ll get to stab you one day Alistair, but I’m also pretty sure that I’ll have to get you very, very drunk first. It shouldn’t be too difficult though…”
“Well, that’s good,” Alistair laughed as he gave the hand a squeeze. “Wait? What?” Izarre shrugged coyly with a smirk. “Right…Well, I can’t control myself around you either. I also may have… said some things to Arl Eamon that I shouldn’t have, in hindsight, but I meant every word so…”
“What did you say?”
“Oh…something about how I’m madly in love with you and that I really have no idea what being king will mean for us. Not quite sure what I said, to be honest. Was sort of in a frenzy.”
“You don’t know what will happen to us when you’re king? What’s that supposed to mean?” The statement had peeked Izarre’s interest.
“Well…this isn’t really the time for this conversation. Let’s…just talk about this later. All I want to know right now is if you’re okay?” While the younger warden wasn’t exactly happy with that answer, he nodded just the same as he put the sword down on the floor. “Good. So, we can either get this armor off and get a few hours of much needed sleep before trying to charm the pants off of dwarves tomorrow…or…”
“Do you really want to see a dwarf with no pants on?” Alistair laughed and shuddered at the thought.
“Ew, not really no...but I wouldn’t mind seeing you without any on…if possible,” he grinned as he leaned over to nip at the plump pair of lips in front of him. “If you’re feeling up to it?” Despite the seemingly bad timing to be getting hit on, Izarre had been cheered up by the cheesy jokes and encouragement. It was something Alistair did without even trying.
“You may get feathers stuck in places.”
“A risk I’m willing to take!”
Before heading to the mountains the next morning, a few things needed to be taken care of first. Alistair insisted on returning to Ostagar, now overrun by darkspawn. The snow-covered battlefield, littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers and wardens alike, was a sight to behold. The monsters had defiled what they could, including Duncan’s original camp site. Alistair felt his stomach churn as he searched the remains for anything his former commander may have left behind. In the corner of his eye, something glinted in the sunlight to catch his attention. Squatting down, he reached out to tip over a silver cup. “What is that?” Izarre asked as he noticed the shimmer as well.
“It’s the Joining Chalice,” answered the saddened man as he held it up. Darkspawn blood still encrusted the rim and Izarre shivered in remembrance. He was also surprised when it was stowed away in their pack. “We should keep looking around.” Despite the Alistair’s obvious depression, he still remained extremely vigilant against the attacking hordes. It was if a switch had been flipped inside of him. “They’re leading us somewhere. Nowhere good, I take it.” He froze as he looked up to see a crucified body. “Maker.” On the edge of a bridge they were crossing was King Cailan’s body, stripped bare, violated, and ravaged. Izarre frowned at the sight as he stood there taking in the fact that his new romantic interest and the former king did, in fact, look an awful lot alike and for the flip of a coin, their places could have easily been reversed. Alistair stood staring as well, though his expression very different. He too thought on what could have been had their places were switched. Would he be up there as Cailan was now? Would Cailan have made a better warden with the ability to save Duncan? Would Izarre be standing here in Cailan’s arms staring up at his body instead?
“Alistair, are you alright?” Wynne asked from behind.
“Ugh,” he answered as his face cringed up. “They left him here to rot. We need to do something.” Izarre nodded in agreement though kept his eyes up at the maimed mounted body.
“He was a good man,” Alistair sighed as he looked down. “Who hoped too much and died too young. He deserves what little honor we can afford to grant him. Climb up on my shoulders, Izzy. Let’s see if we can bring him down, alright?” They managed to pull the mangled man off the rusty spikes as Wynne and the others gathered scraps of wood for a makeshift pyre.
“Help me light the fire, young one,” she said to the young mage as she positioned him to hold out his hand. Their fingers ignited and a small blaze lit the pile to burn the corpse to ash. It was her way of tutoring the warden apostate without saying so out loud. Together, everyone took a step back and stood as a group to watch King Maric’s heir be put to rest.
“That’s going to attract the darkspawn,” Alistair said as he pulled out his sword. “But let them come.” His prediction was correct as the hordes soon started to gather to the east, but pulled back into the Tower of Ishal. “Feel like going hunting, love?”
“Always,” Izarre smiled as he removed his sword and dagger from his back.
“Wynne? Feeling up for a bit of sport?” The woman giggled at Alistair’s question.
“I think I can manage,” she replied with a wink.
“Right, off we go then.” Running towards the tower again felt like deja-vu, but this time, Alistair wasn’t busy complaining about how he got signal duty. Instead, he mowed down the defilers without hesitation. He even looked as if he was enjoying it. Inside the tower, the massive hole used for when the darkspawn tunneled their way into the fortress in the first place was still exposed and there were a lot of spiders down there, but it did lead to the main battlefield just outside the fortress’s walls. And there it was; the remains of the giant ogre that had taken the lives of both Duncan and King Cailan.
Seeing both of their swords sticking out of the belly of the beast was disheartening. It was almost if they had been left there on purpose as a reminder of their failure to stop the darkspawn. Alistair could recognize who they belonged to immediately. “Wait here,” he said as he walked up to the massive corpse. Kneeling down, he reached out to take Duncan’s sword by the hilt but as he did, a shock ran through his body. A vision flashed before his eyes. It was that of Duncan’s final moments as he helplessly watched Cailan’s untimely death right before his eyes and ended with the man’s own defeat. Reeling back, Alistair held his head as Izarre and Wynne ran up to join him.
“Alistair? Alistair? Are you alright?” His name being called freed him from the trance.
“I…I think so,” he stammered but watched in horror as the ogre began to move. “Watch out!” he yelled as he pushed his love into the snow. The first thing it did was an attempt to grab the smaller warden from behind, but Alistair had pushed him out of the way. It swatted Alistair a few meters across the field where he was dog-piled by hidden genlocks. “IZARRE!” The white-haired man stood to face the ogre alone as it stomped over. He dodged another attack and managed to take a swipe at one of its legs, but was shot in the back by an arrow into his shoulder. Wynne was quick to cast a barricading wall of flames to make short work of the archers in the distance as Alistair pummeled and sliced through the last of the genlocks.
Once freed, he immediately began to run towards his friends. Izarre had his weapons knocked away and was desperately trying to pry open the massive hand that had wrapped itself around his body. He was pulled up to the ogre’s face, his hair sniffed before his face was licked. Pushing the massive mouth and razor sharp teeth away, he struggled to manifest something. Anything. What good was being a mage if not for the ability to cast magic when you no longer had a decent weapon? A quick bolt of lightning came out to zap the ogre’s nose, but that only seemed to piss it off even more. The engorged fingers squeezed him again and forced out a painful scream from its victim as the young man hacked up blood before starting to go limp.
Alistair ran over, dropping his shield in the snow to grab his sword with both hands and impaled the blade through the monster’s knee. The grip loosened as the beast collapsed from its wounded leg. Gathering the last of his strength, Izarre put his hands against the meaty prison around his body and began to freeze the entire gigantic hand. Once it turned to ice, he banged against the ogre’s fingers with his fists until the entire thing completely shattered apart. This only left a bloody frozen stump on the ogre’s arm as he fell to the ground. Removing his sword from the fresh wound, Alistair took the opportunity to jump onto the monster’s back and crawled up to its head.
“This is for Duncan!” he yelled as he stabbed through the horned skull. “And Cailan!” He shoved his sword inside a second time before lining up the blade against front of the monstrosity’s neck. Below, he locked eyes with his wounded lover as he pulled his arm swiftly to the side, slitting the throat and spraying a shower of blood over Izarre’s body. As the monster screamed and collapsed, Alistair rolled off into the snow and hurried to the other warden’s side. “It’s alright, love. Wynne will fix you right up.” It hurt to smile and laugh, but the younger warden did so anyway. He wanted to say something, but was unable to without coughing or holding his broken ribs. So, he relied on grabbing the back of Alistair’s head to pull him down for a kiss to get the message across instead.In the distance, Wynne had the necromancer suspended in a Crushing Prison. As she tightened her fist, the spell pulverized it without mercy. Izarre was covered in crimson, being cradled gently in Alistair’s arms as she walked over. “Alright you two. Knock it off,” she teased as she came over to cast several healing spells. “We should get out of here before more darkspawn arrive. Gather him up and let’s head out.” Alistair nodded but stopped to look over at the ogre he had killed.
“Just a moment,” he said as he picked up his own sword. He moved to retrieve his dropped shield and Izarre’s family heirloom as well, but also did something unexpected. Picking up Izarre’s secondary dagger, he stabbed it, along with his own blade, into the beast’s chest and removed Duncan’s and Cailan’s swords. He starred at both for a second in deep though, but ended up putting Duncan’s sword into his own empty holster while putting Cailan’s on his back. Afterward, he secured Izarre’s blade where it belonged before lifting him up with careful arms. “Ready when you are.”
Wynne had watched the scene with sentiment quietly. She nodded to Alistair and began to lead them out of the fortress. Once again, the two wardens and the elderly mage said goodbye to Ostager, but this time, they left with a little bit more hope.
(AN: A few lines of dialogue have been taken directly from the game or have been paraphrased from game dialogue. Anything recognizable as game dialogue is not mine and I bow to the BioWare writing team.)
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How to Adopt a Warden and Other Tales