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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
- 43
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- 45
Heading north again. There's so many refugees on the main roads trying to get to the ports and find a ship to carry them away from Ferelden, away from the Blight and the civil war. It hurts my heart to see how desperate they are, that they are driven out of their homes, forced to leave their country.
My country.
My kingdom.
Oh.
Wow.
Where did that thought come from? I shake my head as if I could get rid of it that way. But it's not only a thought. It's a feeling that comes from the heart. I already feel responsible for these people. Sure, I am a Grey Warden and to fight the darkspawn is my responsibility. But this runs deeper.
"What's wrong?" Rori asks, concern making her frown.
"Nothing."
"You look as if you've seen a ghost."
"Nothing. Really. Just a weird thought, that's all." I look around at all the people that make way so that we can pass by. We're faster than most of them as we're on horseback. So many just walk. The mothers and fathers carry their little children. The old are supported by the younger. They are tired, dirty and often hungry. Some are wounded. It awfully reminds me of Lothering and the people we left back there. We didn't stay to help them, although we tried to give them a warning, tried to make them leave before it was too late.
"So what do you think happened to all those people we left behind in Lothering?" I ask Leliana. She has lived there, she has known many of the locals. For her it has to be even harder.
"Some of them may have found their way to Denerim. Some perhaps went to the ports and sailed to Kirkwall. Many probably died. As the Maker willed."
I am surprised at how calmly she speaks. Maybe it's her faith. I believe in the Maker but I am not a religious person. It's harder for me to accept some things as the Maker's will than Leliana does. "Don't you wish you could have stayed there? To help more people, I mean?"
"If the Blight isn't stopped, everyone will die. This is the greater good we're serving, both of us, right here."
That sounds much like Duncan. Probably many would agree. Probably as a leader you have to make such decisions. Rori decided to leave Lothering before the horde arrived. She also could have decided to help defend the village as long as possible. I doubt we would have gotten away again. We probably would have died there. Still... it's decisions like that I fear.
"So it's all right to let some people die for the greater good? I... I'm not so sure about that. I felt bad leaving all those people there, all panicked and helpless." I also feel bad for riding past all the refugees on the road. It reminds me of what Goldanna said about me. How I am a high and mighty prince looking down on those below.
"You're doing what you must, Alistair," Leliana assures me. "There will be worse to come yet... you will need to steel yourself, you know this."
Worse to come. Like becoming king. Like having to make such decisions for the rest of my life. Now I am feeling panicked and helpless.
"I've never been very good at that. The steeling myself part. I find it better sometimes to just be a little weak. I'm all right with that, really."
Weakness seems something I can afford less each day. Rori and I talked about Loghain a lot, the things he does and did, about how he became the Hero of the River Dane, the decisions he had to make while fighting the Orlesian usurper with Maric. I don't want to become like Loghain. Never. To trade some people's lives for the lives of others, to decide who shall live and who shall die - like Loghain did in Ostagar. He condemned so many to die just because... just because he seems to believe his path will lead to saving Ferelden. That's what Rori thinks this is about. I doubt it. Nobody can be that self-complacent!
"I don't believe you. And either way, it's not as if any of us has a choice," Leliana adds after watching me thoughtfully for a while.
"What do you mean?"
"This journey will steel you. It already has. We've seen so many deaths, so much tragedy. It has rubbed off on you, like it has on any of us. We will never be the same afterwards."
And that's why I should accept all this misery? Just like that? "There has to be something we can do to help them," I mutter.
"Slay the archdemon," Sten advices.
"Yes, right. That's the plan. But, I mean, now."
"It's only another delay."
"I know, but..."
Qunari logic and human logic just aren't the same. But I feel the need to take care of my people. It's becoming more and more unbearable the longer I have to watch their misery.
I wish I was as practical as Rori. She'd find a way to help without causing a delay and then she'd probably use this to make me more popular as well. I could ask her but I hesitate. Somehow I feel I have to get this done myself. Somehow I need to find a way to help my people - and if it's only in a symbolic way.
"We have to set up camp soon anyway. We can offer those who need it protection, a warm meal and healing," I decide. This sounds like a very Rori-like idea to me.
Morrigan rolls her eyes. "And again we waste our resources on those who cannot survive on their own."
Just Rori would also manage to make it sound like a good idea to Morrigan as well.
How much these people need protection only becomes clearer a short way down the road where a group of men in heavy armour and with Howe's family crest on their chests have blocked the road.
They rummage through the belongings of the refugees, taking away anything of value, money, jewelry, any weapons.
"Bloody thieving whoresons," Wynne mumbles, clutching her staff so tight, her knuckles turn white.
"Language!" Rori teases, making the granny mage chuckle in reply.
Other soldiers sort out the refugees, seperating families when they pick people from the crowd. "Money for Ferelden's army! Recruits for Ferelden's army!" one of the soldiers shouts at the frightened and angered people. Those who don't follow willingly are beaten and dragged away by the armed guards. They are penned up inside a cage-like carriage. One slaps a mother that doesn't want to let go of her daughter so hard across the face with the back of his gauntleted hand, that she tumbles to the ground.
"What kind of army is this they need such recruits for?" Rori growls next to me, nodding at one of the carriages.
Children, too young to fight, some still toddlers, young girls and boys. There are also men and women as if to prove their story about the army true. This is all too odd, though.
"Slaves," Zevran says gloomily.
"Slavery is forbidden in Ferelden," I point out. I don't want to admit it but the elf is right. They are no warriors. What else could someone want with all these children than to sell them? It's so damn obvious, I wonder why they even make the effort to tell such a stupid lie to the families.
"Seems someone has changed the rules," the elf comments. "Bet they sell them to Tevinter. Maybe some will become Crows someday."
I draw my sword, urging my horse forward. There's an anger boiling inside of me, that makes me see red.
Nobody enslaves my people!
The guards see me coming - and my reinforcement following at my heels. They let go of the refugees and turn to meet us, their commander stepping backwards when I stop my horse right in front of him. The people are smart enough to scramble out of our way and watch the confrontation from afar.
"Leave them alone," I snarl, staring the commander down in a way that makes him flinch.
Wow.
I am tempted to look over my shoulder to see if it's Sten the man is so afraid off. The Qunari has a way to glower at people that makes them run for the hills. But nobody fears me. They just go Awww! and How cute! whenever I get angry.
"They will fight to defend Ferelden," the commander stammers, his trembling hand rests on the hilt of his sword. "Arl Howe..."
"Blasted bastards, who do you think you're fooling?"
The effect of whatever it was that has frightened the commander vanishes when a soldier points out to him one of the wanted posters that we have found nailed to trees along the road. Seems Loghain has raised the reward for me ever since Eamon began to establish me as the heir to the throne. The price on my head now is the same as on Rori's. And they call me the bastard prince. Leliana loves it. She says it's adventurous and romantic. It makes for good stories and songs.
"Who do you call a bastard?" the commander barks, raising his arm to alert his men to prepare for an attack. That's just fine for me. Still on horseback we have the advantage although the guards outnumber us. "Loghain wants the Grey Wardens alive. Kill the others."
The commander hasn't even drawn his sword when one of Leliana's arrows hits him straight in the chest. i finish him with one blow, decapitating him.
Shale just starts running, stomping on everybody stupid enough to stand in its way. Even a single golem stampede is something frightful. Sten follows right behind. He's so huge and heavy, Rori has found him a stallion of a large and strong breed. The horse still is utterly relieved every time it gets rid of its rider. The Qunari and the golem leave behind a swath of destruction. Rori, Zevran and I engage those in battle who are left over by Sten and Shale, with the mages and Leliana firing their spells and arrows from the background..
The crowd picks up the soldiers' cries "The bastard prince!" - "Grey Wardens!" - "Kingslayers!" - "The last of the Couslands!"
I have no time to worry about the mass of people in my back. They could become dangerous. I know that much but I really couldn't care less at the moment. Next to me Rori tries to find a gap in the defense of a knight but he doesn't give her much of a chance, blocking her with his shield. She parries a few strikes but he's much taller and heavier than her and his blows come with such a brutal force, she's shaken by every single one. Another strike and she lets go of her sword, stumbling backwards to escape her opponent's blade. Her arm hangs limply at her side. Only Barkley's jaws snapping down on the soldier's ankle save her from getting run through.
Cursing, I swing my sword at the head of the man I am fighting. With a loud CLONK it connects with his helmet. I don't wait for him to break down but charge sideways, ramming Rori's attacker with my shield, driving him away from her. Out of the corner of my eye I catch the sight of another man aiming at me. But I cannot bother with him right now as Rori is again forced backwards, only defending herself with the dagger she can still hold.
I can sense the man in my back while I fight the two soldiers I have to lure away from Rori. I need to delay them for long enough to turn round and deal with the man in my back. But they won't give me no chance.
Then there's another loud CLONK and the man in front of me loses his footing when something solid hits his helmet. I whirl around to block the strike from behind just in time. Several more clonking sounds can be heard but it still takes me a while to realize its stones.
Some of the refugees throw stones at Howe's soldiers.
I turn back to defend Rori, yelling at her to retreat, but find her already being dragged away by a young elven woman about her age. Two male elves armed with clubs - obviously father and son - beat the soldiers up so furiously, they really manage to fend them off. They are joined by a young but battered knight. It's a miracle he can actually hold his sword considering the condition he's in.
His reddish hair is as greasy and dirty as his beard and his ragged clothing. His eyes have sunken in, a feverish glow speaking of the horrors he must have seen. His right leg is stiff, he keeps dragging it behind, hardly able to stay on his feet whenever he wields his sword. Whatever gives him strenght, it's nothing his body provides.
"For the Couslands!" the knight roars and runs one of Howe's men right through.
"For Ferelden!" I cry and throw myself at the next Howe man. To my utter surprise the cry is answered by many throats and soon the soldiers find themselves not only battling us but also the people.
An angry mob is nothing to underestimate. Howe's men quickly learn their lesson but there's none left to tell the tale. The people stomp them into the ground, then free their relatives from the cages and recollect their belongings taken from them by Howe's men.
In all this chaos I am searching for Rori.
I am utterly relieved to find her with her back resting against a tree at the side of the road. The blonde elven woman is tending her arm. The way Rori winces every time she is touched, Wynne better had a look at it. Father and son, both as blonde as the girl, approach with the battered knight leaning heavily on them. "Lady Rori!" the young elf shouts, beaming at her brightly.
"Gavin!" I guess Rori would beam if not for her arm. Her grin looks a bit pained. "Ser Gilmore, Farrin! I thought you were all dead!"
"We weren't at the castle when Howe attacked. Father, Ophelia and I were at the alienage for a relative's wedding," Gavin explains. He's a few years older than Rori and has remarkably grey eyes. "We only found out when we returned the next morning and found... and found..." There's sadness and sorrow in his eyes - and sympathy when he looks at Rori. His father, Farrin, shakes his head and Gavin falls silent, casting his eyes down.
Ser Gilmore slumps down next to Rori. His breathing is ragged and he's sweating heavily. I recall Rori mentioned him a few times, an old childhood friend no more than two years her senior. But the last months have taken their toll and the tragedy has left Gilmore a broken man. Once he certainly was handsome, you can see it in his face, staring back at you like a ghost from the past. "I never thought I'd get to see you again," he grunts. This once proud knight reeks of neglect. He's unshaved and dirty in a way that shows he didn't care to look after himself. "Rori, I thought you were dead, too. But then Howe and Loghain began looking for you. They say you murdered King Cailan. They say the teyrn was a traitor."
"Gilmore, you don't believe that shit, do you?" Rori says forcefully.
"Language," Wynne sighs as she shoos Ophelia away to tend to Rori's arm.
"No, no, of course not." Gilmore looks at Rori as if she was an epiphany. The sorrow is still there edged into his skin, but there's hope returning to his dull eyes. He has recovered a reason to live for, to be strong for.
"How did you get away, Gilmore? What happened to my parents?" Rori takes his hand in hers, holding on to him like she has only done with me before. It's really silly but I feel a pang of jealousy stab my heart.
"There was a fight, fire everywhere, the heat was scorching," Gilmore croaks as he pulls the haunting memory back to the surface. "They were everywhere and I knew we were lost. But we had to buy you time. I was wounded, couldn't get back to my feet and then Howe was there and ran me through." He trembles so badly, I'm afraid he's going to spasm. "When I woke I lay on a cart loaded with the corpses of my fallen comrades. I was too weak to move. All I could do was lie there and let things happen. I drifted in and out of consciousness and then Gavin and Farrin were there. They found me and took me with them. That's really all I know. If you want any details, ask the elves."
"Oh Gilmore, I'm so sorry," Rori whisper. Tears stream down her face when she hugs the sobbing knight. He clings to her as if his life depended on it.
"What happened to you, Rori? What is this all about King Cailan?" Gilmore pulls himself together with some effort.
"This is a very long story and she will tell it later. You both need rest," Wynne says firmly. Then she begins to take care of the miserable Ser Gilmore. "Alistair, I think, you should talk to the people."
"Huh? I should... but... why?" I stammer, turning when Wynne nods at something behind me.
There they are.
The refugees.
i thought they would move on but they have not. They have gathered around me and look at me expectantly. I grin foolishly at them, panic rising inside of me. "Whoa, but Wynne," I hiss. "I cannot... this is impossible... I am not..."
Before I can go on protesting, I am lifted onto a nearby wagon by Shale.
Blasted golem!
There's such a hard lump in my throat I can hardly swallow. "Help!" I mouth at Rori. She gives me thumbs up and smiles reassuringly. It's not really a bright smile, more a weak and crooked one. Her cheeks are still smeared with tears.
"I believe in you," she whispers.
Oh, yeah, that makes things so very much easier. Thanks, kitten!
My heart is trying to leap out of my throat as I stand there above the assembled crowd, all eyes on me. I can hear the murmur spread through the crowd. The bastard prince. King Maric's son.
Oh, Maker's Breath!
"So, yes, that's me, a royal bastard." I shrug, smiling a lopsided smile as I run my fingers through my hair.
Laughter.
"The royal bastard to be more precise. But next to being King Maric's son and - as it seems - the heir to the throne - howsoever that could have happened..."
More chuckling and laughter.
"...I am also a Grey Warden. Probably more than I am a prince. At least... I have some more practice at the Grey Warden business than I have at being a prince..."
Oh, Andraste help me, I am babbling.
"... but most of all I am Fereldan, just like you. And I cannot and will not give up my homeland. I will defend it against the darkspawn - as a prince, as a Grey Warden and as a Fereldan"
That doesn't sound convincing, does it?
"Now, you see me standing here and maybe you think, yeah, he's got a shining armour and a sharp sword and big words. But he's just a young fellow..."
"And a handsome one," a toothless granny shouts, making the crowd laugh again.
"It never hurts to hear a pretty lady say so," I reply, bowing politely to her. "Ahhh, now I have lost my chain of thought. The blame is on you, dear lady. There you can see how easily I get distracted by female beauty."
"You flatter me, son!" The granny blows me a kiss and flutters her eyelashes coquettishly at me. "You can always pay me a visit when you're done with the darkspawn." The crowd roars with laughter.
At least they find me entertaining. If king doesn't happen I can always try as a stand-up comedian.
"The darkspawn. And the archdemon. Right. That's my prompt." I pause, trying to return to earnest. "If you doubt I can end this Blight and slay the archdemon, then you are right. I cannot do this alone. Like Maric the Saviour couldn't defeat the usurper alone. But if Ferelden unites, if we all stand together and defend our country, our homes and families, then we can make this happen. Ferelden belongs to us and we will not give it up."
Silence.
Oh.
Okay.
Did I say something wrong? Something awkward...
Then a motion runs through the crowd. It starts at the very front, when Ser Gilmore kneels. Kneeling, when you got a stiff leg is nothing easily acquired. For a moment I believe he's just tired. But Rori and the elves from Highever, my companions, they all follow his example - and then like a wave, one by one the people drop down on their knees.
My jaw drops open. I probably should be glad they all incline their heads so they don't see that completely retarded look on my face. I turn around and see at least Morrigan, Shale and Sten are still standing. Bless them! But then Sten, too, inclines his head and grunts his approval.
Whoa!
Whoa!
Awkward!
This is not happening.
"Errr... maybe we should all stand up again because I very much doubt we can slay any darkspawn while kneeling in the dirt..." I mumble, but in the silence my voice sounds awfully loud.
"Hail to Prince Alistair!" Ser Gilmore shouts as he rises again with the help of Gavin and Farrin. The crowd picks up the praise and i am greeted by their shouts, their faces turned upwards, eyes shining. There's a determination there i haven't seen on them before. They have been hopeless, a battered mass of people that have lost everything but their lives. But now...
I feel dizzy.
Even more so when the people don't leave. Well, some of them do. But I see men saying goodbye to their wives and children. i see sons hugging their parents and brothers bidding farewell to their younger siblings... and I begin to feel awfully sick.
"What are they doing?" I croak, leaning against a tree for support.
"You have just recruited yourself some soldiers, your Highness," Ser Gilmore chuckles. It is a rasping sound. I very much doubt the knight will ever fully recover.
"WHAT?... NO!... They cannot... but... they were fleeing... I... they will die if they stay...."
"They stay to defend Ferelden. Just like you."
"Oh, merciful Andraste! Someone has to tell them to leave! They are peasants, craftsmen, not soldiers!"
Breathe! Breathe slowly! A hyperventilating Grey Warden and wannabe-king is not going to make a good impression.
"Do you really believe Maric defeated the Orlesian usurper only with the help of knights and soldiers? There were many ordinary people fighting for him - because they believed in him and in Ferelden." Ser Gilmore inspects the assembled men quickly and with the eye of a skilled soldier. "They can be trained. I am too... I will never fight on a battlefield again, but I still can be an instructor." His whole attitude has changed. It's as if he has been lost and now he found Rori and some cause to live for, he has returned from a dark and desperate place. His whole composure now is that of a knight instead of a destroyed man.
"But we cannot take them all with us!" I almost expect someone to point out how Maric hid in the wilds and mountains for years with his army, an army bigger than that bunch of refugees. I guess, it's about fifty men, maybe sixty. This is not an army. This is a suicide squad. They could be on their way to Kirkwall or wherever. They could be save. Instead I made them stay and probably condemned them to die.
"We don't have to. We have Warden's Peak. They can stay there and prepare for the battle," Rori suggests. I glare at her and she shrugs, offering an apologetic grin. Backstabbing little beast.
"Peasants and craftsmen," I hiss at her.
"Mhmmm, do you think there's also stone cutters and carpenters amongst them?" Rori asks thoughtfully. "Warden's Peak needs some repairs done."
I give up. Nobody is going to listen to me. They all think I've done incredibly well. The people love me. They want to follow me. How they got this idiotic idea is totally beyond me. I'm the only one who thinks this is a terrible mistake.
"Now you got the men, you have to make sure they stay," Ser Gilmore advices. "Paying them a wage would help. Feeding them is certainly necessary. Make sure they believe they have a future and that you are the man to lead them there."
"Lead? Who? I?" I have to sit down when Ser Gilmore arches an eyebrow quizzically at me. The only place where I can lead them is their deaths.
"What's his problem?" he asks Rori. He has obviously never met someone given power who absolutely didn't want it. She pats my back sympathetically when I bury my face in my hands. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.
"Brasca! You are planning to give them the dragon gold, right?" Zevran whines.
"Don't worry, we'll find another treasure." Rori cuddles him and gives him her sweetest smile. For a short moment the elf tries to resist. Then he gives in.
"Alright, alright, but I want to keep that fancy crown. The ladies just love it," he grumbles. "That treasure you want to find... we won't have to kill another dragon, will we?"
"Rori, we cannot take them to Warden's Peak. It belongs to the Grey Wardens. They have to stay neutral." That's my last try. We're going to send these men away and tell them to stay with their families. There is no hope for them here. We are all doomed...
"Alistair," Rori says calmly as she takes both my hands in hers. She winces whenever she moves her right arm even after Wynne healed her. "You're behaving like this nutcase outside Lothering's Chantry." It's as if she dumped a bucket of icy water over me. She's right. I recall how she told this idiot to shut up, how she told him that whining wasn't going to get them anywhere. "According Warden's Peak, you recruited these men to fight the Blight. You did not once mention Loghain or how you want to become king."
"How did this happen? I didn't say anything smart at all. Nothing out of the ordinary," I breathe in exasperation.
"I don't know." Rori wraps her arms around my neck, tilting her head back to look me in the eyes. "I mean, I do know, but it's hard to explain. There's just something about you that calls to them. Something that makes them see you can be so much more than you are, that you have it in you to be someone great."
"But I do not want to be someone great," I sulk.
"I'm afraid you already are."
Sighing, I accept my defeat. I still have no clue how this happened. But when we reach Warden's Peak, we have about two hundred men and women following us. The number just kept increasing. My name and Rori's have turned into a rallying cry of hope. It's astonishing and frightening. I have no idea how to deal with this, no idea how to encourage the people when they come to speak to me.
Leliana says they love me. She claims I have a natural charm. A bit awkward, but that seems to be part of the Theirin heritage. At least people keep telling me over and over again how much I am like Maric.
"Alistair's more than just Maric's son." That's what Rori keeps replying when I am compared to my father. I want to throttle her whenever she does this as I am afraid it will cause people to have expectations in me. At the same time I know she isn't reducing me to a man who just happens to be a king's son and that's what I love her for. I just wish she'd tell me alone, preferably somewhere quiet and private.
Private has been difficult before but now with all these people it has become impossible. I feel awkward whenever Rori shows her affection openly. I'd hold back and just kiss her cheek or the back of her hand. But Rori doesn't give a damn and her boisterous nature gives me a whole lot of enormously embarrassing moments in front of a large audience. Usually when she pounces me to kiss me, I blush a deep crimson when I hear people go "Awww!" or "How cute!" or they just chuckle.
Leliana says it's a good thing. The people are impressed by my character. They see a man with a heart of gold. They see something as beautiful as Rori's and my love in a time when darkness and despair reign their lives. She says it gives them hope and that some of the light we have found for ourselves also shines on them.
"But I do not want to be a larger-than-life-figure!" I sulk.
"Don't worry, you are not," Leliana chuckles. "You are far from being aloft - and that makes you even more charming."
Not all of the people who join us are going to fight. Some men have brought their families. Some people have joined us to work as maids and servants. Levi almost has a heart attack when we emerge from the tunnels.
"Wh-what is that?" he gasps.
"An army. Or at least that's what they will be once they are trained," Rori says, rather unimpressed by Levi's shocked expression. "Can you feed them?" Levi nods, dumbfounded. "Can you house them?" Levi nods, still dumbfounded. "We have to talk about some investments I want to make," she goes on. "These people have to be paid. And I have to talk to Avernus so he doesn't get any strange ideas with all the people here."
Merciful Andraste! Avernus! I have totally forgotten about that crazy mage! And we have packed the fortress with possible test persons! I think I will have to remind Avernus that I am a templar. Well, a Grey Warden with a templar training. But the effect is the same.
Rori turns when a large sturdy man taps her shoulder. "Yes?"
"Didn't you say this was a fortress?" he grumbles, pointedly looking at the ruins of what once was indeed a proud fortress. It's not hard to see the disappointment in the faces of those who have arrived with us. They thought there would be more than just an empty keep with a merchant family and an old mage.
"Didn't you say you were a stone cutter?" Rori replies sweetly. If she feels bad about having lured the people here, then she doesn't show it. I feel bad. I feel like apologizing to every single one of them personally.
"Aye."
"Seems you got work to do."
"Aye."
After this is settled, Rori, Barkley and I climb all the way up to the highest tower where we meet with the rickety mage. All these stairs are probably the best protection the people will get as long as we can't find anybody to watch Avernus.
"I promised to continue my studies within ethnically boundaries," Avernus huffs when Rori tells him the new arrivals are not meant to be used for any wicked shit. Her words, not mine. "There's hardly anything I can do. You don't even allow me the things I requested!"
"The lyrium trade is controlled by the Chantry," Rori points out to him. "But here is what we found on our journey." Several lyrium potions, some dust, too.
"Not enough! Not enough!" Avernus throws a tantrum that would make a three year old go green with envy. "You condemn my research to turn out a complete failure!"
Rori groans and rolls her eyes. "For someone who sat in this tower for 200 years without making much of a progress you are rather impatient. For all this time you had nobody to run your errands, no new books, nothing."
"You didn't even bring me darkspawn," the mage complains sullenly.
"Working on it," Rori assures him before we leave him alone once more. The keep is buzzing with activity. Ever since we closed the veil there has not been as much going on. Just now there's far less demons.
Rori and I stand on the bridge that leads to Avernus's tower, watching the people below, scrambling around like ants in an anthill.
"So where will we go from here?" I ask, resting my arms on the railing - after I tested if it would support my weight.
"Straight to our bedroom?" Rori suggests, nudging me to make me wrap one arm around her shoulder.
"You are such an insatiable, naughty girl! As much as I appreciate this suggestion, that's not what I meant."
"Oh, you're talking about the job? Well, next stop Orzammar."
"Do I have to act kingly in Orzammar?"
"No."
"Already loving it. When can we leave?"
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In good times and in bad