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In good times and in bad	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 14749 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and the characters of the game do not belong to me. This is a no profit fanfiction

Chapter List
- 39
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- 41
@Petri: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you like the hurmourous approach. ;)
Somehow Rori has managed to persuade Eamon to send Jowan back to the Circle. After what he has done, there will be no happy ending for him. The templars either will execute him or he will participate in the Rite of Tranquility.
"I'd rather die." Rori shudders when I explain to her what I have learnt about the Tranquils while still at the Chantry. "This... this is horrible! It's cruel."
"Then the mages are no danger anymore..."
"They are not human anymore!" Rori snaps. "They are no more than an empty vessel, a shadow of their former selves. Everything they have once been is gone. Their hopes, dreams, fears, their grief and sorrow, their love - everything is gone! They are like walking dead! There's no joy for them anymore in their lives."
"But they don't know about all that," I point out. "They have no desires anymore, no regrets. And some of them have led miserable lives."
"That doesn't make it any better!" She kicks a stone, sending it scattering down the road. We're on our way to Redcliffe to retrieve Sten's sword before we take Jowan back to the Circle. We head in that direction anyway, so we save Eamon the effort to alarm the templars or have Jowan escorted by some of his knights. I cannot get rid of the feeling, though, that Rori has something on her mind she won't tell me.
"Rori, some mages even choose to become Tranquils. And it is not an easy decision the Knight Commander makes. Mages who are made Tranquils without their consent either cannot or don't want to control their magic. It is the responsibility of the Knight Commander to keep anybody save from uncontrolled magic. And when it's either killing them or keeping them alive as Tranquils... don't you think it is an act of mercy?"
"No. No, I don't think so." She doesn't wait for a reply but storms off. I know better than to follow her. She's upset and furious now and it is best to give her some room then. I'm not the only one who had to learn that the hard way. Rori is capable of throwing things at you when you push her or press her the wrong way.
There's no arguing with her about that matter, anyway. Rori is rather spirited. To her tranquility has to sound like a horrible fate. But that's not the way you got to look upon that matter. She's no mage. It will never happen to her. And she will never be the same danger a mage out of control can be.
She has calmed down again by the time we're back at the castle, with a stupidly grinning Sten in tow. At least I think that strangely crooked shape of his mouth could be something similar to a smile.
Rori's way to say sorry after one of her moods is to just pounce and kiss me fiercely. By now I know her well enough to see it coming, so I am better prepared for her assault. And it's really a nice way to make up after an argument. Even better when it doesn't end there.
Jowan squints his eyes when he is lead out into the open by Eamon's guards. The weeks spent in the dungeon haven't done him any good. His eyes are sunken in, his skin ashen. He has lost weight and hasn't shaved for an eternity. The way he shuffles his feet and slumps his shoulders, he gives the impression of a man who has said goodbye to life.
"I am glad this horrible man will now get what he deserves," Isolde sighs in relief when the knights tie the rope that is attached to the bonds around Jowan's hands to Rori's saddle. She looks awfully uncomfortable, frowning down at the guards and at Isolde, standing beside her husband.
"Unfortunatly that doesn't apply to all who have done wrong," Rori says icily as she slips out of her saddle, untying the rope again. She then grabs the reins of one of our extra horses we use when the others grow tired.
Isolde's lips tremble when she tries to keep her voice under control. "If you hadn't saved my son..." she hisses, coming face to face with Rori.
"Don't waste your time with false gratitude. I did this for Alistair. And for Con" Rori growls, her fists clenched at her sides.
"Oh, no, no, my dear friend." Zevran holds me back when I am about to intervene. "Never, never ever get yourself involved in a cat fight. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
"But..."
"They both will scratch your eyes out. Just stand back and enjoy." He turns around at the others. "Any bets?"
"Five silvers on Rori," Leliana whispers.
Meanwhile Isolde makes her next move, completely ignoring Eamon's halfhearted try to silence her. "Alistair will soon notice you're no more than a tart stripped off her power and lands and using him as your tool to regain both!"
Rori hisses like a cat but before she can as much as say a single word, I ignore Zevran's advice, and step in. "Enough! Lady Rori, mount your horse, please." She stares at me, stunned. "Now."
I am prepared for a retort. A fight. An argument. But... nothing. She just inclines her head. Then she does as she is told.
Wow.
That was... easy. Too easy.
I turn my attention on Isolde who greets me with a smug smile. "Your behaviour is not appropriate, Lady Isolde. You will not talk to Lady Rori like that."
The smile slips off her face and is replaced by an expression caught in between shock and surprise. Seeking help from Eamon, she finds him equally flabbergasted.
"Shale," I move on to the golem. "Please lift Jowan onto the horse." Usually the golem talks back. I have not once seen it do something you ask it to do without a smug remark or an argument. But this time the walking statue obeys without hesitation.
A curt nod is my farewell for Eamon and Teagan, then I march towards my horse, mount and ride out of the courtyard. I do not wait for the others, expecting them to follow - and they do.
I can't get rid of the feeling everybody is staring at me but I fight the urge to look back over my shoulder, fearing I could fall out of the saddle if I did. This all went far too smoothly, I am still waiting for something really awkward to happen.
When we are out of sight of Castle Redcliffe, I let out a heavy sigh. I haven't even realized the intensity of tension until now. I cannot tell what upset me so much about that little scene - it was really nothing big - until I hear Rori's voice calling me. "Prince Alistair!"
Now I really almost fall off my horse when I turn abruptly, pulling sharply at the reins. Rori has been calling me prince before when she's been teasing me. But now she doesn't sound like teasing. There's an earnestness to her tone that scares me. There's pride in her eyes and her smile when she looks at me. Then she inclines her head once more like she has done before back in the court of Redcliffe Castle. I haven't identified it as a gesture of respect then, but that's just what it is. Worse though, Wynne, Leliana and Zevran follow suit.
Now I am really scared.
For the first time ever I am glad for Morrigan rolling her eyes and pulling a face. If she bowed, too, I'd be running for the hills now.
"Hey, whoa! Stop that! Stop! That's... creepy!"
"You were totally awesome back at the castle!"
"What? I... I didn't do nothing at all!" I just stopped two women getting into a fight. That's certainly nothing to nothing impressive.
"You had such a kingly authority!" Rori rejoices. "I mean, right, you didn't save the world, but there was something in the way you held yourself... you got... presence... a kingly presence. It was absolutely amazing!"
"You like it when I order you around? You're developing some rather strange tastes, young lady. Should I be worried?"
"I'm not worried. So why should you be?" Rori smiles impishly at me.
Now I am really worried.
"Okay... listen, you must have misinterpreted..."
"She wasn't the only one who saw it," Wynne interrupts. "You've shown them you're a Theirin. They all saw your father in you."
Is that supposed to comfort me? To assure me? That I remind them of Maric the Saviour?
I think it's disturbing. I am not my father. I didn't know this man. Only now people actually begin to talk to me about him. I have to admit all the stories make him sound more like a normal man. less like a superhero. Still, he somehow managed to become a legend. And I cannot believe that's all about what bards made up about him.
"Even I was impressed," Zevran admits. "And I've seen my share of royal bastards. Seldomly they show any signs of greatness - makes it much easier to kill them." Zevran is in a gloriously good mood today. I'm quite sure that's got nothing to do with me and my kingliness but the two young ladies that I saw sneaking out of his bedroom this morning.
"Hey, no... what are you talking about? I'm just Alistair! This... haha... you are joking, right? You're just teasing me. Right? Oh, merciful Andraste!" I groan.
"There are many great tales of lost kings who return to their lands to reign in glory...," Leliana tries with comforting me when we move on. She's awfully cheerful about all that. I bet she has already planned it all out, my campaign, the lies she is going to tell to get me a good reputation I do not deserve... This bard is wicked!
"I am not lost. Nor, for that matter, a king. And there is nothing glorious about me." Absolutely nothing. And you're not going to convince me of anything else no matter how hard you try.
"You are Maric's son; you are the rightful king of Ferelden."
I feel like I am going to start screaming if anybody mentions my father again.
"I am the son of... a star-struck maid and an indiscreet man who just happened to be king." At least that's what they always told me. By now I'm quite sure the part about the maid is not true. My father shortly disappeared about twenty years ago... I'm almost twenty. Coincidence? Hardly. "Look, I can't be king. Some days I have trouble figuring out which boot goes on which foot."
"Rori forgot to put her panties back on, but you wouldn't call her a bad leader." Leliana chuckles. "Complete fools are made leaders of kingdoms all the time, Alistair, and you're not a complete fool."
"What an utter relief."
"And don't worry about the boots. Kings don't need to dress themselves. that's what advisors are for, isn't it?" Leliana leans towards me to pat my hand in a very motherly way.
"And star-struck maids, apparently."
"Those, too. And if you made Rori your Queen, she'd at least not be found attending a formal dinner without any underwear anymore. Queens have advisors, too."
Rori could become my queen - strangely what bothers me most about that idea first place are the advisors helping her with her panties. I am the only one who will ever get to dress or undress her when panties are involved - next to herself of course. Once I've gotten over that part of the possibility of her becoming my queen, I recall Eamon's warning. Political marriage could become necessary - I groan and push that thought aside. I don't want to have to worry about that. All I want is to be with Rori and enjoy her company and all the other things she has to offer. There's enough darkness flooding my life already. My love is not to be corrupted by it. I won't plan a future that might never come. With a bit of luck - a huge bit - I will live to see my 20th birthday in a few months. Blast! All this talking about kings and queens gives me a major headache.
Meanwhile three people with very flexible morals plan my political ascension. To have an Antivan assassin, an Orlesian bard and a young noblewoman raised by Fereldan's No. 1 ambassador for dealing with Orlais plan my confrontation with Loghain, stick their heads together and whisper to each other, including side glances at me, is most disturbing. When we halt for supper and for giving everybody a rest - most of all Jowan who is about to fall off his horse - they gather around me.
"You know, Maric's situation when he fought against the usurper was quite similar to yours," Leliana starts while she unwraps her sandwich. She waves it around, talking a lot with her hands, all grand gestures. "He was hiding with his army most of the time, tried not to get caught. Still he had to make himself noticed and unite the nobility. Many were scared to oppose the usurper."
"Would you please stop comparing me to Maric!" I snap. My mood doesn't get any better when Barkley snatches my sandwich out of my hand while I am busy glowering at the elf and the two redheads. "HEY!"
"Here, you can have mine." Rori with a far too sweet smile gives me her supper. I frown at her suspiciously. She and I share the Grey Warden appetite. We devour far more food than anybody else in this party. Ever since we made the dog a Grey Warden mabari that applies to him, too. Half of the time we feel like starving and are found stuffing ourselves with snacks while we travel. And she willingly gives up her supper? Something is really rotten here - and it is not Rori's sandwich. "I am not going to like this, right?"
"I know you don't want to be compared to Maric. But people don't know you. They remember Maric and you don't inherit his throne like Cailan did. You have to fight for it. What Maric did, he met with the nobility secretly. He talked to them and tried to win them over."
"No. No way! That's far too dangerous. Loghain searches for us everywhere. We got our images on wanted posters plastered all over Ferelden," I point out. I rip the sandwich in two halves and hand one back to Rori who has been hungrily staring at it ever since she gave it up to me. Sten probably will be missing his cookies again.
"And you think it was any different with Maric?" Leliana coos. "He was hunted, too. He was in danger of treachery whenever he came out of his hiding. We have to do this. Some nobles will listen to Eamon. But Eamon will not be their king. Loghain is not some Orlesian usurper. He is the Hero of the River Dane, Maric's best friend, his daughter is the queen. We do need more than just Eamon and your Theirin blood. We need the people to adore you."
I groan.
Doom.
DOOM!
"I... I can't do that! I am here to kill darkspawn not to become the pawn in a civil war."
"You are not the pawn, Alistair. You are the king," Rori reminds me.
"When I said I never want to become king, did you actually listen?" Usually she does. She's good at listening to people, find out what they like and what annoys them. She has managed to become friends with everybody here despite all the different characters. Even Sten, now he is reunited with his sword, calls her Kadan - whatever that means. It sounds like an endearment. He sometimes even smiles at Rori - although that looks awfully creepy.
"I did. But things have changed. Like they changed when Duncan and all the other Grey Wardens died." Practical as always, isn't she?
"Now, here's the plan... we don't just avoid the villages anymore. Zevran, Wynne and I will go there and talk to the villagers. I will sing my songs and tell my stories. We will let people know what really happened in Ostagar, Highever, Redcliffe and Kinloch Hold."
"Keep your stories short, my dear," Zevran comments. "We will certainly have to run for our lives more often than once." He chuckles when he finds Rori longingly ogling his sandwich. "I wish you only once looked at me like that. I'd die a happy man. But you have made your choice, my wild Fereldan rose." Sighing, he glances at me. "You're some lucky bastard, Alistair, my friend."
"I am for sure."
"Does that mean you won't let me have your sandwich?" Rori pouts.
Laughing, Zevran shares with her. "All she ever wants is my food. Oh, how she makes my heart bleed!"
"You don't have a heart, Zev," Rori mumbles with her mouth stuffed. She grins, winks and nudges his ribs when the elf's expression darkens.
"You are a cruel woman... but I forgive you. How could I ever be mad at a woman with a bosom like yours?" Zevran grins wolfishly at her. "Ahh, Alistair, don't you glower at me like that. I have seen you watching her as well. Her boobs bounce so nicely when she rides, especially when her horse trots."
"I... no... no, you must have been mistaken! I didn't... I never..." I stammer, blushing deeply. Oh that sight of her bouncing boobs! I stare at them most of the time and more than once have I almost fallen off my horse because I didn't pay any attention to the road but only to that soft bouncing of her beautiful breasts.
"You did not? You Fereldans just don't know how to enjoy life. I for my share love to watch her bosom. She's quite stacked, so there's a lot there to watch." He chuckles. "Morrigan is not so bad also. And her lack of clothing makes it even more interesting. I'm still waiting for that moment when everything will drop out of that tiny bra she wears. I am astonished it hasn't yet happened. Do you think she magically holds her boobs in place?"
"How did we end up talking about Morrigan's and my breasts when this was about your political campaign?" Rori whispers I don't really pay attention because I stare at her bosom. I can't help it. All that talking about boobs...
"Well, you got two really good arguments there that will help you to persuade many men to follow their rightful king," Zevran remarks matter-of-factly.
Now, isn't that fantastic? If the nobility of Ferelden recognizes me as the fool I am, the busty bosom of my love will make the difference! This is our plan B? Really?
Can we skip plan A then and move right on to plan B.
"Then who's the next bann on our way to the tower?" Leliana asks.
Obviously we can't.
Too bad.
"Excuse me please," I mumble. "I'm going to stand over there and bang my head at that tree."
I'm doing this for myself. The king-thing. not the head-banging at tree thing. I'm doing this for Duncan and for my fellow Grey Wardens. I'm doing this for Cailan. I'm doing this so that Loghain will pay for his crimes.
There's a whole lot good reasons why I should be king.
And one why I shouldn't. And that one is me.
I only notice the golem standing right next to me when suddenly with a smashing stomp, the creature steps onto a pigeon landing in front of its feet.
"Argh! Whoa! Shale! You almost gave me a heartattack!" I stumble backwards. The golem has a smug grin plastert across its face. Alright, it doesn't have much of a facial expression. But I swear this one is a smug grin. It must have been standing there completely motionless. There's breadcrumbs on the ground in front of it. The golem lured the bird into a trap.
"I find it very odd," the golem suddenly speaks. The way it turns its head I think it's talking to me.
"'It' meaning me? Am I an 'it', now, too? I feel honoured." I think, I could get used better to 'it' than to 'Prince Alistair'. Oh, what did I get myself into? If Maric had a thing for starstruck maids and whatever other women, there have to be some more bastards, right? It can't only be me? I'd only have to find them.
Grasping at straws now, aren't you?
"For one who professes to be a warrior, I find it remarkably weak-willed and indecisive."
"Er... thank you?" Am I getting bashed by a statue?
"It also likes to hide its many weaknesses behind a veil of jocularity."
Yep, I am getting bashed by a statue. Maybe I should ask it to enlighten our companions with its observations because they seem to have missed the obvious. I cannot be king! "For a statue, you know a lot of big words."
"Is there a reason it enjoys following others so much? Especially when it is in a position to lead?"
I will never get why so many people think it's such a great thing to lead. There's even some who strive to lead. That makes me wonder why they actually want to lead. I have found many of those who desperatedly want to be in a position of power only have themselves in mind. When there's nothing you care about but yourself, then, I guess, leading indeed could be funny. But if you do mind what happens to the people you are responsible for... well, then leadership is the cause for many, many major headaches and sleepless nights and crashed mirrors when you cannot stand looking at yourself anymore.
"Have you ever been responsible for someone else's life? Or a lot of other lives? Or an entire nation?"
"Of course not." The golem snorts.
"Then... shut... up," I snap. I am getting tired of being accused of weakness when none of them has ever once even wasted a thought on how it is to walk in my shoes. They all act as if - just because your father happens to be a king - you are born one. History proves that assumption wrong.
"I will remember this moment when the birds come." Shale murmurs, marching off.
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In good times and in bad