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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
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@discord_the_lunatic: Thank you for your review. And you can be assured, Alistair will find out about giving oral sex. Just give the poor boy some time. For someone who hasn't had much of a clue he's gone rocket speed ever since his first night. ;)
"Are you mad? You... you have to be mad!" I can't blame Cullen. That was my first reaction, too, when Rori told me what she had in mind.
"I asked the unicorns and they told me no," Rori replies sweetly. She's so fed up with having to argue about her decision.
"This is not funny!" Cullen snaps. The poor man looks as if he's about to faint. He pulls at his hair and paces the room. I cannot see there's much difference between his condition when we found him in the tower while it was still controlled by Uldred and now. "Knight-Commander," he pleadingly turns to Greagoir. "Trusting Irving is one thing, but allowing these..." He glares at Rori and me.
"Grey Wardens," Rori prompts politely.
"Errr..." Cullen has lost his trail of thought. I doubt Grey Wardens was what he had in mind to say. But as he is a templar by heart, being rude when a lady is around, is nothing that comes easily.
"Allowing them..." Tiny droplets of sweat appear on Cullen's brow. It's a bit like watching myself because I certainly must have made a similar impression on Rori when she asked me for my opinion on that matter. Unlike Cullen I got a much more detailed version of her plan, though. And I know Rori. I trust her. She can be stuborn but she also listens to advice. So we found an agreement we both can accept. Poor Ser Cullen will get none of that. "You cannot hand Jowan over to them! He is a convict. We saw him use bloodmagic! We know for sure what he is and he deserves to die! We cannot set him free!" The poor guy will have a heartattack if he doesn't calm down. For sure he has a problem with his bloodpressure, considering how red his head is.
Greagoir sits in his chair, one arm proped up. He's far from being delighted. "You ask much of us, Lady Cousland. Jowan killed some of my men. He tried to murder Arl Eamon - and still you wish to recruit him. Why?"
"There's not many Grey Wardens in Ferelden..."
"Let's be exact," I interrupt her. "There's you. Me. And the dog." And Avernus. But really, you don't mention a two-hundred year old blood mage who summoned demons and did horrible things in the name of science to two templars. That's something that will send you faster to Aeonar than you can spell your name.
"The dog is a Grey Warden?" Cullen gasps. He's clutching the back of his chair - the very one he only sat in for about the very five seconds it took Rori to say: 'I use the Right of Conscription on Jowan' - for support. Barkley woofs and wags his tail frantically.
"Are you alright?" Rori asks with concern when Cullen's eyes seem to bulge out of their sockets the way he stares at the three of us in shocked disbelief.
"No! No! I am not alright. No one ever listens, not until it's far too late." Cullen paces the room once more. He is a very upset man.
"I know I owe you," Greagoir drones tiredly. "Without your help many more would have died. But Jowan..."
"See, I don't want you to hand him over right away," Rori explains. "There's a ritual Grey Wardens have to undergo, something we call the Joining. Alistair and I have not the slightest clue how to perform it."
Avernus has but the ingredients he had left weren't enough for a human so we used them on Barkley. Now we have an incredibly old Grey Warden with the knowledge of how to perform the Joining but not the ingredients we need. Avernus was so kind to inform us that we've run out of archdemon blood. So I guess, we will have to wait until after the Blight is over with our plan to rebuild the Grey Wardens in Ferelden.
"I don't understand." Greagoir frowns. Rori's request is giving him a headache. And Cullen makes it a major one.
"I kind of want you to store Jowan for me," Rori explains. "Preferably in a way he will survive sanly. Meaning, I'd very much appreciate if you didn't let him starve in a pitch black cell somewhere in the bowels of this tower."
"What makes you think we would do that?"
"What? Store him for me or lock him away under inhuman conditions?"
"Both, I guess."
"Well, the Right of Conscription doesn't know no exceptions so I can claim him and he is mine. And I thought you might want to pay back the favour you owe us."
"You are a rather straightforward young lady." Greagoir is impressed. It makes him uncomfortable, because he'd rather not allow himself to be convinced by a lithe teenage ginger to pardon a dangerous maleficar.
"You're not the first one to say so," Rori remarks smugly. "According the inhuman conditions - I just want to make sure he's not held by you like by Lady Isolde. No offense meant."
"No offense taken." Greagoir tries hard not to chuckle.
"He is a murderer!" Cullen cries in ultimate exasperation. "A blood mage! And you want him to be pardoned so that he can lead a life his victims never will have the chance to live?" The way he sways and trembles he's either on lyrium withdrawal or wondering if this is yet another nightmare or illusion he desperatedly tries to fight without success. "This... this is a trick! They are under his control! Jowan, he controls their minds!"
"And the best idea he comes up with is to make us use the Right of Conscription on him?" I mumble. "If I had mind control over Rori, I'd know a whole lot of other better things to make her do..."
Oh... wait! Do I sound like a deviant now? I do, don't I? That's... that's not how I meant it! Honestly! Hey! Why is everybody staring at me as if I said something dirty?
"You don't need no mind control," Rori laughs, nudging my ribs. "You just have to ask nicely."
"Why is everybody here acting as if this was nothing big?" Cullen shouts hysterically. Poor sod. I can only imagine how he must have suffered while the tower was under Uldred's control.
"Ser Cullen, being a Grey Warden is not a happy-ever-after life-long vacation where you get to slay some darkspawn once in a while as not to get bored," Rori says calmly, almost soothingly, turning her attention solely on the young templar. She locks her eyes with his, stepping closer until they are face to face. "It is a death sentence. And believe me, it is not a nice death."
“The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens as no sacrifice is greater than theirs,” Greagoir murmurs.
Cullen stares down at the petite female right in front of him, unable to turn away from the gaze of her dark blue eyes. Whatever he sees there, his expression softens and is replaced by sadness. "I... I... I am sorry." He looks at me with the same sorrow and sympathy. "Sorry." Barkley woofs indignantly when he is left out and Cullen pets his head absentmindedly. The dog whines happily and licks his hands.
"We do not take this lightly," Rori assures the templars. "That's why we won't take Jowan with us. I don't think we can effectively look after a maleficar while trying to unite Fereldan's nobility and thus prevent a civil war, assemble an army, kill the archdemon and end the Blight."
"Our schedule is awfully tight these days," I agree.
"You better get used to this. Kings always have an awful lot to do."
"And there people wonder why I don't want to become king," I murmur under my breath.
Cullen and Greagoir exchange a look of utter confusion. "Did we miss something?" the Knight-Commander asks warily, his eyes shifting from Rori to me.
"Errr... nothing of importance," I hurry to say but Rori is merciless. I think I am going to spank her tonight. At the moment I am having a whole lot of violent fantasies involving her and my palm connecting with her naked butt. I bite my lips to stiffle a groan.
Quick!
I need an un-arousing thought... something horrendous... something like... Wynne naked at the temple of the sacred urns... ewww... Sten's naked butt... Merciful Andraste!... Morrigan adjusting her breasts when they once more have almost fallen out of what she is not wearing...
Okay, I think I'm safe now.
"Knight-Commander Greagoir, may I introduce you to Prince Alistair Theirin," Rori says solemnly, inclining her head towards me.
"I am not a Theirin," I hiss.
"Maric is your father. He was a Theirin - so are you. How should I introduce you? Alistair the Bastard Prince? Or Alistair Almost-Theirin? Using your father's last name is far easier than to start explaining about Maric and the star-struck maid, don't you think?"
"What? That... oh... I hate you."
"No, you don't." She tiptoes to kiss my cheek. I wipe her kiss away with the back of my hand defiantly. She's not going to wrap me around her little finger that easily.
"Right now I do," I sulk, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "You're as wicked as that granny mage with her frail old lady act. And that bard with her cute little girl performance. Can't I just be Alistair?"
"I will make up for this, I promise."
Greagoir and Cullen follow our argument, turning their heads from side to side.
I sigh, accepting my defeat. "Fine. I want your dessert for the next two weeks."
"What? Three days!"
"Ten."
"Five."
"Seven."
Rori curtsies most gracefully. "Seven, as you wish, your Highness." I wince at her calling me that awful title. We shake hands in agreement, anyway, although I cannot get rid of the feeling she shortchanged me.
I know her! She'll just make me feed her half of every dessert she owes me by using that upwards glance on me. And then after I've started sharing with her, she'll lick the spoon clean in a way that will make me want to drag her away to the bushes and make love to her.
"If you are looking for support from the Chantry, then I am afraid, there will be none." Greagoir's tone is wary but firm.
"We are not expecting what the Chantry cannot give," I explain before he can get the wrong idea. "Even during the war against the Orlesian usurper the Chantry didn't side with Maric. I understand that it is necessary for the Chantry to stay neutral."
"You learnt your history lessons well, Prince Alistair." Greagoir visibly relaxes when I assure him we're not here to push him even more than we have already done by forcing him to give us Jowan. "I will have to talk to Irving about the matter of Jowan. I know you have the Right of Conscription. But maybe Irving's opinion is of some interest to you, too."
"Of course it is. Anything else would be foolish," I agree. Rori next to me is smiling that smug smile of hers. She looks like the cat that got the cream. "What? What is it now?"
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Acting kingly!"
"Are you going to get excited about that anytime I do this... whatever it is I do?" I whisper while we follow Greagoir and Cullen to meet Irving in his study. They cleaned up most of the mess in the tower - which certainly is a good thing since last time we've been stumbling over corpses on our way to the top.
"At least until I've gotten used to this new side of you."
"You seem to like it."
"I admit, it's rather thrilling."
"Thrilling, huh? How thrilling?"
"Try that on me tonight and find out," she teases, grinning impishly.
Ha! Now I only have to find out how I do what she thinks I'm doing. I don't feel like I'm any different at all.
Irving welcomes us warmly, although he seems a bit taken by surprise when Greagoir announces us as Prince Alistair Theirin and Lady Rori Cousland. "Oh," he says when he sees us. "It's you."
"Yeah, it's only us. Don't get yourself confused by all the titles."
"What about the dog? Did he also discover a title of nobility since we last met?" Irving inquires when he feeds Barkley a cookie.
"He has always been the King of Hearts," Rori laughs when Barkley comes bouncing towards her.
"He's a Grey Warden." Cullen hasn't yet digested this.
"Really? I only once met a Grey Warden hound before. That must have been a little more than twenty years ago when Grey Wardens visited the tower. Ahh, it's quite a long story. But you have not come here to listen to an old man babble, have you?"
Irving doesn't like Rori's idea any better than Greagoir. But at least he's not as negative as Cullen. "And when would you collect Jowan should we agree to... store him for you?"
Rori shrugs. "I don't know. When the Blight is over, I guess. If we don't return for him, you can always do what you'd have done if we hadn't recruited him."
"What does Jowan say about all this?"
"Well... first he whined a lot. About how sorry he is. How much he regretted all this. That he does deserve to be punished..."
"At least he has some common sense," Cullen murmurs. "And he's the blood mage!"
"In the end he agreed, though."
"Well, then, I think we will grant you that wish as a reward for your help," Irving sighs. "If the Knight-Commander agrees, of course."
"I don't like this but I will not ignore the Right of Conscription. But if I as much as suspect he's using forbidden magic, I'll have him executed."
"Sounds fair," Rori agrees.
And that's how we recruit Jowan. Avernus will be so delighted. He has been asking for an apprentice and now here we found one as ruthless and questionable as his soon to be mentor. I really do hope Rori knows what she's doing. Maybe we should recruit Ser Cullen as well. Then we at least would have someone to watch over the mages. On a second thought I doubt we'd find the two of them alive and still kicking on our next return to Warden's Peak if we left them alone with Cullen. Couldn't even blame him. If Rori wasn't as convincing as she is - especially when she's on her knees and... well, lets just say, she can be rather persuasive.
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In good times and in bad