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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
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As I was now an insomniac, I was out and about when normal people still slept the sleep of the just. That time right before dawn when the world was dyed in shades of grey, when the night was coldest and the birds hadn’t yet awoken, when the palace lay in dead silence; it was that time of night that made me wonder if I was actually still alive or caught in a nightmarish Fade illusion. I kept checking for my heartbeat and, to my utter disappointment, I always found it.
Kings don’t have much privacy. There’s always someone somewhere to help you with things normal people are perfectly capable of handling without assistance. It still drives me crazy, although after all this time, they’ve mostly learned to leave me alone. Back at the beginning of my reign it was unbearable, especially as my mourning called for solitude. The early morning hours were my sanctuary. It was almost peaceful then, a stark contrast to the maelstrom inside of me. I didn’t react well to early birds disturbing my privacy, but ever since Eamon’s matchmaking festival had started, I wasn’t the only insomniac in the palace anymore.
At first I had tried to avoid her, but our random encounters strangely didn’t upset me, and soon I found myself seeking her out. When I didn’t find her, she would find me. And after some time we began to hang out together. Like me, she was a creature of the twilight... Nothing cool or creepy, we just didn’t belong anywhere. We were thoroughly lost and out of place everywhere we went. Or, as Rori put it, “I am an utter stranger to myself.” But together, we were less alone.
“There you are. I thought you got cold feet,” Rori greeted me with a bright smile. She sat cross-legged on the low wall surrounding the training ground, her weapons—a sword and a dagger—within reach.
“So sorry to dash your hopes, Puck!” With her bouncy red curls and those large blue eyes darker than the deep blue sea, with the myriad of freckles on her nose and the cute pout of her rosebud lips, she looked like a cheeky little imp. Her brother called her Pup; for me she became Puck. “Someone’s going to get stomped into the ground.”
“A confident valuation of your chances of success. I didn’t know you were an optimist.” Rori teased, poking my chest with her index finger.
“Ouch!” I clapped my hands over my heart as if seriously wounded. “You sound like Morrigan!”
“You compare me to the witch-bitch? Whoa! A degradation of this kind needs to be atoned for!” She drew her blades. “En garde, Ser!”
It was the first time we sparred together. A few days before I had watched her on the sparring grounds alone. She only reluctantly had given in to my suggestion to spar together. She didn’t like to be touched and was always careful to keep her distance unless she was too drunk to care or too distracted by us horsing around. So I fooled around, made silly faces, or ran away clucking like a frightened chicken and flapping my arms like wings whenever she charged—only to make her laugh and relax. It worked quite well. We just didn’t do much sparring that way.
“ALISTAIR!” Rori finally cried out in exasperation, tears of laughter glinting in her eyes. “Seriously now!” This was so much like the old days during the Blight when we all met for sparring. Sten really wanted to train while Oghren was far too drunk and Zevran just tried to undress every female opponent by slicing her garments off. Suri would whack everybody with her staff if they didn’t behave... Boy, we had so much fun in between all the tragedy and chaos.
“How about that? Serious enough?” One moment I was wagging my sword at her playfully. The next it went flying and hers was pointed at my throat. “Oh. Wow. That was... unexpected.”
The second round I lasted a little longer. Boy! She was fast. And she knew some nasty moves that would have made Zevran go green with envy. She kicked my feet from under my legs, making me eat sand and dust.
“If I had known you'd be rolling around in the sand most of the time, I’d have brought sand toys,” Rori teased when she helped me back to my feet.
“Alright, playtime is over.” I growled with squinted eyes, pointing my finger at her. “The little girl act so cannot fool me anymore!”
Circling her, I waited for her to make the first move, blocking her swift blows hailing down on me. She was good but lacked experience. She lost her sword when mine crashed against her blade. Armed only with her dagger, she didn’t have the range to be a threat any longer. With my shield I made sure she didn’t get closer and finally pushed her down, kicking the dagger away she had dropped.
“Ha! Revenge is mine! Feel the wrath of the ticklespawn! Mwahahaha!” Before she could get up, I pinned her to the ground, holding her arms with one hand as I hovered above her. She squirmed and kicked and tried to throw me off while I held her down with my weight and tickled her mercilessly...
Rori screamed.
The sound bore into me. Her agony made me bolt as if lightning had struck me. I let go of her and she scrambled away, her eyes tearful and wide with fear.
“Maker’s Breath! I’m... I’m sorry... Rori!” I called after her when she ran away. I jumped to my feet to follow her when it dawned on me that chasing her certainly wasn’t going to win her favor.
Doom!
DOOM!
“Inconsiderate jerk!” I scolded myself. I had overstepped the mark. I had gotten lost in all the clowning around. It had almost felt like it was with Suri—without the big feelings of course... Merciful Andraste! I hadn’t wasted a single thought on how inappropriate my behavior towards Rori was. Next to the fact that you just do not tickle an unmarried noble woman—wouldn’t recommend trying it with a married one unless you are her spouse—tickling Rori was... a disaster beyond all expectations. Maker! I had been on top of her, holding her down... Alistair, you blithering idiot!
Blast! I had to apologize. Maker! I was so utterly ashamed of myself. I went to all our hiding places without finding her. Instead, I found wild strawberries. The King of Ferelden spent the next hour sticking berries on straws as I had done as a boy in Redcliffe. I felt reluctant to keep searching for Rori because I really didn’t know what to say, and I figured a little gift could work the magic my deft brilliance couldn’t.
Back at the palace I ran into Rori’s maid, an old chaperone Fergus had picked to look after his sister. “In case you are looking for Lady Rori, your Majesty, well, she’s not here!” the old woman said sourly. “I have no idea where she is. Looking after her is like herding cats! One should leash her like a dog! It’s really beyond me how this Arl Rendon managed to keep her in one place that long.”
Probably because he did have her leashed like a dog. But I wasn’t going to argue with the woman. I had already betrayed Rori’s trust; I wouldn’t forfeit it completely by blurting out details she had told me in confidence. Since Rori wasn’t in her room, I could enter without dropping yet another brick. Just leave a quick note and the strawberries for her and voice a proper apology once she decided to reappear—a perfect plan.
Okay, so, I needed a piece of paper... Maker! Rori’s desk was a worse mess than mine. “The Darktown’s Deal” by Varric Tethras. Interesting. Several letters, mostly from her brother and uncle. Rori had doodled naked hindquarters on two thin legs and with large ears at the margin of some of the letters. Sometimes an angry stick-Mabari snapped at the naked butt... She didn’t seem to be very thrilled by whatever her relatives had written. An apple core, several handkerchiefs—all mine!— dog biscuits... Aha! Letter paper...
Blast! What to write? Hmm... “Sorry for being a jerk. —Alistair.” Nah, too flippant. I balled the note up and dropped it onto the heap of used paper next to the desk. “Lady Rori, please forgive my lapse...” Too formal?
While I was still wracking my brain, a sound behind me caught my attention. Someone was... sniffling? I took a look around but there was nobody there. “I’m imagining things,” I muttered to myself. Hey! There it was again. Silent as a stone I stood there and perked up my ears. The sound came from the far side of the room near the bed...
I knelt down and peeped under the bed. Two large blue eyes stared back at me. “Having an early night?” I grinned sheepishly.
“Get lost!” Rori sniffled.
“Your desire is my command. I am good at getting lost. I get hopelessly lost most of the time.”
“Yet you are still here,” Rori answered in a peeved tone. At least she wasn’t scared of me anymore.
“Just because I got lost in thought when searching for an apology that doesn’t sound lame.” Despite Rori frowning at me I laid down on the floor in front of the bed so I could properly look her in the eyes. “I am sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt you intentionally. I’m an expert at dropping bricks, though, and... well, I’m sorry.”
“That was indeed very lame,” Rori mercilessly adjudicated on the matter of my apology.
“I brought strawberries…” I held up the straws, regarding her with puppy-dog eyes.
“Alistair Theirin, are you trying to buy me over?” Rori asked sternly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Guilty as charged.” I grinned abashedly then held out my hand to her. “Friends?” Thoughtfully biting her lips, she regarded my outstretched hand for what seemed an eternity to me. “Come on, Puck, my arm is going numb!”
“You’re lucky I accept bribes.” She shook my hand, crawled out from under the bed, and snatched a straw from me. “Quite a sweet-talker,” she grinned sheepishly, tucking a lose strand of unruly hair behind her ear. “And I am willing to share.”
“Thank you but no thank you. I... I should go. I should not be found in your room...”
“Worried about my reputation?” Rori laughed dryly. “People accuse me of being a slut for sleeping with the murderer of my parents. This is rock-bottom.”
“That’s your reputation. What about mine?” I teased her.
“You’re a man,” Rori pointed out. “Being found in the company of a woman with a seedy reputation makes you a daredevil.”
“That’s unfair!” I exclaimed.
Rori just shrugged. “A bad reputation is the best vindication for doing whatever you want. People expect you to act outrageously anyway.”
“If so... gimme some of those berries.”
“Open your mouth!” Rori plucked a berry off the straw and aimed.
“Oh come on! I saw you throwing stones. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn!”
“You flatter me. Now keep still!”
After Rori and I had given the nobility something new to viciously gossip about, I reluctantly returned to work. On my way to my office I ran into Teagan. He gawked at me as if I had sprouted a second head. “Alistair? Are you... are you feeling well?”
“Sure, I’m fine. Why?”
“Nothing... it’s just... is that a strawberry in your hair? ... and you’ve been... whistling.”
“Quite out of tune it seems if that eases your worry,” I chuckled, plucked the strawberry from my head and popped it into my mouth.
“Not at all,” Teagan assured me. “I just haven’t seen you in such a good mood ever since...”
“Oh...” The smile was wiped off my face. “Yes, well, it won’t happen again... Excuse me, I have work to do...” I worked quite a lot these days.
“Sorry, I can’t go for a walk / boating / shopping / have tea / lunch / dinner with you. I’ve got an awful lot of work to do. King business, you know how it is.” That had become my most favorite and best excuse ever when it came to avoiding the man-eating bachelorettes. This excuse allowed me to seek sanctuary in my office where I relieved my boredom with playing darts—a painting of the late Arl Howe made for an exceptional target. I taught Barkspawn to fetch my slippers, listlessly played with my Grey Warden puppet, built houses of cards, rearranged the furniture... I even introduced myself to the art of governance out of mere boredom. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
With the knowledge came the ideas, and much to Eamon’s surprise, I didn’t spend the daily meetings with my advisors solely doodling sketches onto important files; I actually listened and offered my own suggestions.
Sitting in my office, I flipped through my correspondence without really reading any of it. My mind was occupied with Suri and my lack of proper grieving lately. I talked a lot to Rori about her. Many had offered their comfort and a friendly ear, but I still had never confessed to them what was tearing me apart inside. Then along came Rori, and with her came the need to express my feelings. Once I got started I talked a mile a minute. Where there had only been guilty silence before when Suri’s Blight companions sought to perpetuate her memory, I now spilled all the details to a stranger. Rori listened without judging me. And I didn’t feel guilty around her as she hadn’t known Suri. I still believed I should have made the sacrifice. My failure left Wynne, Zevran, and all the others bereft of a dear friend. I didn’t have the right to burden them with my grief when I was the reason for theirs.
Closing my eyes, I banged my head against my desk repeatedly until I felt something large and furry in my lap. “Furdinand, old boy!” I scratched the Mabari behind his ears. He was Suri’s dog. He missed her as much as I did. He used to be a furball of energy but ever since Suri’s death, he was apathetic and listless. He spent his days lying in front of the fireplace, fading away slowly. He hardly ate anymore and when I took him for a walk he trudged after me. We both had failed to protect her when protecting her had been the only meaning of our lives.
Without her, we were nothing.
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What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted