Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

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
- 1
- 2
- 3
Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.
_________________________________________________________________
Chapter 2 - The Lonely Hearts Club
The next morning I awoke with a terrible hangover after a dreamless night. Usually I lay awake at night, tossing and turning and painfully aware of the cold emptiness beside me. My drunken nights left me blissfully oblivious. I began to understand why Oghren was pissed as a newt most of the time. Groaning, I pushed the half-bred mabari puppy slobbering all over my face aside. I rolled out of bed and risked a look at my reflection. Bloodshot eyes stared back at me from a pale, unshaven face. I looked twice my age. Minimum.
Four months and I still wasn’t used to my personal butler shaving and dressing me as if I were a toddler. So, whenever I woke in time to escape him, I hurried to get everything done quickly to save myself the awkwardness of a grown up man helping me with my smallclothes. After washing and shaving I looked almost human... if one cared to ignore the dark circles beneath my eyes, framing the haunted expression that lay in them.
After Duncan’s death, I felt guilty. I should have died on the battlefield instead of him. Suri had rolled her eyes whenever I had gotten started and slapped the back of my head. “Whining won’t make him come back. Move your ass and make him proud, stupid!” Neria Surana had never been one to complain about her fate. If Duncan hadn’t recruited her, she would have easily made it to First Enchanter sooner or later. Honor, duty, the will to lead and her quest for power—she was one in a million, and now she was gone...
Maker, I so needed a drink. Or two. I had begun to hide bottles under my bed. In my wardrobe. My boots. My drawers. Between the sofa cushions. Unfortunately my butler Arlington always found them and whenever I felt in need for a drink, I found myself dried out. This man knew no mercy.
The second day of my wooing courtship had a tight schedule, starting with a hunting party right after breakfast. I had never been hunting like that, chasing foxes with hounds and such. I knew how to catch coneys and fish. Nothing more.
Habren Bryland was downright giddy about the fox hunting. “Oh, it will make such a nice stole for me!” she exclaimed.
“For you?” Prudence Franderell snapped. “Why should you be the one to get a stole?”
“Because I am the prettiest, of course!”
“Have you had a look in the mirror this morning, darling?” Glenda of Amaranthine asked icily.
“Maybe she needs glasses.” Isadora, Bann Loren’s daughter, laughed.
And so on.
“Maker preserve me,” I sighed and once more wished Suri would have let me slay the blasted archdemon. I was beginning to wonder if her sacrifice wasn’t some kind of revenge.
At the other side of the court, Rori helped Jane Wulff mount her horse. Poor Jane was such a sweet and polite girl, easily scared and clearly not used to riding on horseback. Whenever I cracked a joke, Jane would blink at me uncomprehendingly. She wouldn’t have noticed sarcasm if I had held up a sign each time I used it for cover. Rori was the only one to laugh for real at my jokes. And she led priceless counterattacks.
“Your Majesty,” Habren shrieked next to me, making me jump. “You decide who should have the fox hide.”
Eight ladies expectantly stared at me.
“Preferably the fox,” I answered curtly, mounted my horse and left them standing there.
I’ve never been a good horseman. I can stay in the saddle; that’s about it. The only one less skilled was Lady Jane, and she soon was left behind with the servants. I tried to keep up with the others but in the heat of the hunt, I soon lost sight of the hunting party.
I felt utterly devastated. An afternoon with the ladies and I couldn’t take part! Woe was me! The mere memory makes me tear up...
Okay, no, it doesn’t.
To be honest, I lost them on purpose.
I slipped my signet ring off my finger and into the satchel at my belt. My cloak with the Theirin crest I hid inside a hollow tree trunk. Instantly I felt lighter, sort of free. These short moments when I could be just Alistair helped me find the strength I needed to act like a king. Mind you, I was an amateur actor—and a bad one to boot. Anora could have ruled but after what Suri had gone through to make me king, giving up was no option. I owed her that much. And more. So much more. Blast, I was heavily in debt, even more so than the kingdom.
I steered my horse towards the next tavern, found a table outside and ordered a pint. The sun was shining, birds were singing in the trees and when I closed my eyes, my memories took me back to the days when Oghren had been sitting next to me, teasing Sten about his cabbage farts. Leliana would have been with the other guests, her lute in hand as she told our tales. Zevran, flirting with the waitress of course. Wynne would have been knitting, a glass of wine in front of her. Then a second. A third. And Suri, glad we finally made it out of the wilderness. She had spent her whole life in the tower and all this travelling around—tents, campfires, walking or riding on horseback, the lack of properly cooked and served food... it was not her forte. The whole time up until the final battle, Suri had—unsuccessfully—tried to invent a spell to protect her from the midges—beasts she had loathed as much as Shale hated birds. Maker, without her companions, Suri wouldn’t have survived in the outside for five minutes...
Blast! Rapidly I blinked my eyes. I surely wasn’t going to sit here and bawl into my ale.
“Hay fever?”
I looked up in surprise at the sound of Rori’s voice. I had been so caught up in my memories I hadn’t noticed her approach.
“Shouldn’t you be fox hunting?” I asked rather curtly while I fished for a handkerchief in my pocket. I felt as if I had been caught red handed. She knew perfectly well it wasn’t hay fever that made my eyes water. Why was she here? What did she want? Didn’t I deserve some rest?
“Shouldn’t you?” she shot back.
“Hunting’s a waste of time and effort when the vixen runs after me.” I retorted sourly. “I just have to sit down and wait and—voilà!—there she is!”
“Run into you I did; running after you I wouldn’t do for love nor money,” Rori replied huffily.
“I can offer neither the first nor the second.”
We glared at each other madly and I for sure wasn’t going to look away first. Offering an apology was out of the question. Suddenly, Rori’s frown vanished. Instead, she grinned impishly at me. “How about a cool beer?”
Her charm was disarming. “I think that could be done,” I mumbled, unsuccessfully trying to bite back a grin. The last thing I had intended was to invite her but now she slumped down on the bench across the table, ordered a pint, cold meat, and bread, and I found myself encumbered with her company. Being mad at her proved impossible, so I was mad at myself.
“An unmarried young lady should not be found alone in a tavern,” I pointed out. A very last attempt to make her leave.
“I’m not alone. You’re here with me.” She took the first sip of her beer, the foam sticking to her upper lip like a fluffy white moustache.
“As far as I understand, an eligible bachelor isn’t the proper company for a maiden.”
“Neither am I a maiden,” she lectured me with her adorable foam moustache pout, “nor are you, in my eyes, eligible. No offense meant.”
“No offense taken.” I grinned. It was hard to resist the urge to wipe the foam off her lip. I could have given her a hint if she hadn’t looked so incredibly cute with it. “So, if it wasn’t for chasing after me, why did you leave the hunting party?”
“This surely isn’t a serious question. Who in their right mind would want to spend an afternoon with Habren? In addition, I’ve never been fond of fox hunting. I feel sorry for the poor fox.”
“My sentiments exactly.” I grinned, leaned across the table and with my thumb, carefully wiped the foam off her lip. She was taken aback and blushed a brighter shade of pink, even her ears glowed. It suited her quite well.
Three hours and several pints later, Teagan and my guards finally found us. Bless him! He knew quite well by then where to look for me. It wasn’t the first time I escaped. He could have found me in no time at all but he knew how much I needed a break from my kingly duties every now and then.
A bit tipsy, I returned to the palace. To my utmost surprise I’d had a rather pleasant and entertaining afternoon. Rori was fun to talk to. We didn’t discuss anything heavy or serious. Nothing to make us tear up. She was just like one of the boys, actually. Someone to hang out with. All the time during the Blight, Suri had made friends always and everywhere. I got along well with most of her companions, but she was the bond we all shared. When I fell in love with her, she became the center of my universe and I looked neither left nor right. Her radiance consumed me completely. Now for the first time ever since Duncan recruited me, I felt like I had made friends with someone. I was in high spirits until I remembered I didn’t deserve any happiness. Maker! How dare I share a drink and a chat and enjoy both when Suri was there in her cold grave?! I shouldn’t be allowed to sleep comfortably in my warm bed. Maker! I shouldn’t be allowed to sleep at all. Or eat and actually like the taste. Or feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. Or hear the gay song of the birds. I didn’t deserve any joy. Not now, not ever.
I so knew Suri would have beaten me over the head with her staff for that kind of thinking.
The fox, by the way, had escaped. The ladies were in a rather foul mood, especially Habren, as she had fallen off her horse and landed in a blackberry bush.
I didn’t have time to visit Suri’s grave that day. That made me feel even worse. I completely failed her. Now spending the afternoon with Rori felt like cheating on Suri. I needed to ask for forgiveness. I needed to throw myself into the dust and confess my sins...
Maker’s Breath! I needed to stop being so damn pathetic!
Arlington already awaited me to make sure I took a bath before the ball and dressed properly. So I had to pull myself together and go back to amateur hour.
King Alistair Theirin, a tragicomedy in countless acts.
The ballroom was crammed with man-eaters and I was the main course. I couldn’t take a single step without a woman asking for my attention. I commented on dresses, hairdos, shoes, makeup. Someone in the crowd even groped my hindquarters! A gauntlet is a complete joke compared to that night in the ballroom. I’d rather have spent the evening amongst darkspawn. That was the kind of dance I knew by heart.
I searched for Rori and found her on her way toward the buffet. She wore a dark blue dress matching the color of her eyes. It was rather simple and high-necked—certainly not made to draw attention—but she stuck out like a sore thumb in that crowd of revealing haute couture. I needed her. Desperately. I had to lead the dance soon and she was the only one I felt safe with. In my attempt to get to her, I couldn’t help overhearing the whispers following her as she passed by.
“The youngest Cousland... What is she doing here?”
“... a disgrace. Haven’t you heard? She offered herself to Howe to ensure her survival...”
“He took her captive. I’ve been told he did not behave like a gentleman toward her.”
“Quite an understatement, my dear. She gave birth to his bastard shortly before he died. Nobody knows where the child is.”
“Not a bastard. His legitimate heir—and hers. She married Howe...”
“...They say she abandoned the baby. Didn’t even want to look at it...”
“How dare she show her face here?! She plotted her parents’ deaths. I tell you, she did!”
“Howe was her lover and now look at her! How she acts all innocent. Would you believe her to be the victim?”
“Married the murderer of her family, that’s what she did.”
“Bitch!”
Maker’s Breath! And I had believed this to be my gauntlet!
She held her head up high. Maker, she tried. Pretended she didn’t hear when the words crashed down on her mercilessly, ceaselessly. With every step she took her composure crumbled. She slumped her shoulders, hung her head, hurried past them until she almost ran, fleeing from the room that was filled with disgust. It hung heavy in the air like poisonous gas, and for Rori, was just as consuming, just as inescapable, just as deadly.
Eamon announced the first dance, asking me to lead it. His choice of bachelorettes formed a circle around me. I muttered an apology, elbowed past them and hurried after Rori, the women floating after me like an enemy armada.
Rori did the only reasonable thing to recover from the assault she had endured in the ballroom. She stuffed herself with sweets and got drunk. She stood at the buffet with her back turned to me when I tapped her shoulder. She turned, her cheeks puffed from all the food, mouth smeared with chocolate, and blinked at me in bewilderment.
“Lady Rori,” I said in my best kingly voice, “May I have this dance?” I held out my hand for her to take. A murmur went through the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Eamon frantically waving at me to catch my attention. I ignored him.
A slice of cheese in one hand, hors d'oeuvre in the other, Rori was so stunned she just stood there and gawked, even forgot to swallow. I had to repeat my question to make her react. Then she swallowed, slapped the cheese into my palm—needless to say, it went straight into my mouth—fed the hors d'oeuvre to Barkspawn, and with the sweetest smile—her mouth still smeared with chocolate—took my offered hand.
We sailed past the indignant crowd. My heart beat like a battle drum and considering how tight Rori was squeezing my hand, she was equally nervous.
“Worst choice ever. Do you have a death wish?” she muttered breathlessly.
“Quite often,” I admitted as we reached the middle of the ballroom. “And there’s one thing you should know...”
“Yes?”
“I can’t dance.” Eamon somehow had expected I could dance. And I hardly ever listened closely when he announced my schedule for the day. So once I realized I would have to dance, there had been no time left to teach me how to do it. Some panicked first tries with Arlington in my dressing room, nothing more. Arlington’s toes were black and swollen for the next two days.
“It’s not that different from fighting.” Rori said calmly. “I’m your sparring partner. The dance is your footwork.” Strangely her words soothed my nerves. Fighting. That was something I knew. Something I was good at. The music started, Rori counted the steps, and I followed. When Arlington had danced with me I had kept staring at our feet and still they hadn’t gone where I had wanted them to go. Now, my eyes never left Rori’s and my feet moved in rhythm with the music. First I was tense, but when I noticed it was working I relaxed and we floated across the dance floor together. I only once stepped on her toes.
“You realize you just caused a serious scandal, right?” Rori asked when the dance was over. She never broke eye contact, feeling the stares of the assembled crowd boring into her. As long as she looked into my hazel eyes she was safe to pretend the world around us did not exist. “Fergus doesn’t want to accept it, but I’m an outcast.”
“I don’t believe a single word of what they say,” I said forcefully.
“Truth or lies. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t have the decency to die when I should have. They look at me and they see a defiled woman. I’m something dirty, something they don’t want to be reminded of.” She shrugged and cracked the saddest smile.
I didn’t dance with anyone but her all night long.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted