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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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“Dance?” I asked exasperatedly. “Dancer?” I was sitting on a picnic blanket playing charades in the park amongst a pack of ruthless bachelorettes determined to marry me. Lady Isolde had forced me to team up with Habren Bryland before I could pick Rori. I suffered from an awful hangover and a stiff neck as I had spent the night at Suri’s grave, weeping and drinking and feeling sorry for myself. Again. Or, as Rori would have said, “Same shit, different day.”
Habren shook her head no, turned gracefully and floated across the lawn, ran her hands through her hair, fluttered her eyelashes and looked at me expectantly.
I shrugged. “No idea... err... hair? Dress? Hairdresser?” I could see no difference between Habren’s performance now and the last round when she attempted to mime ‘fish bone’.
Habren shook her head no again, sank to the ground, then rose slowly, waving her arms in a wide circle.
“Something round?” I wondered. “Something rising? Sunrise?”
“Don’t bother,” Rori murmured into my ear. I could smell the whiskey on her breath. She obviously was better prepared for this ultimate torment of social activity. “I know she drew my card. It’s ‘dog turd’.”
“Really? Maker!” I groaned, downing my glass of wine. When nobody cared to refill it, I went for the bottle. I was determined to catch up with Rori. Isolde glowered at me indignantly. I couldn’t have cared less. She didn’t expect me to suffer through a game of charades sober, did she? “Dog turd.” I sighed after some more hopping by Habren.
“Rori’s choice of words is so vulgar,” she instantly complained loudly. Isolde agreed and immediately expelled Rori from the game.
“Lucky you!” I sulked when the redhead offered feigned sympathy with a cheeky smirk as she left me behind. My next choice of words for the next round were ‘gnat’s piss’, ‘arse kissing,’ and ‘golem vomit’. Isolde glared daggers at me but wouldn’t do me the favor of expelling me, too.
Doom!
DOOM!
Sullenly I watched Rori throwing sticks for Barkspawn until the puppy accidentally spotted a cat and ran off to chase it. While Barkspawn enthusiastically barked up a tree and the cat indignantly ignored him, Furdinand apathetically rested in the shade of a large oak tree. Rori sat beside him and scratched him behind the ears. Then it was my turn to mime ‘rose bed’; Isolde had imposed a new rule that only allowed pretty words. By the time I had made a complete fool of myself, Rori had convinced Furdinand to roll over and allow her to rub his belly. Habren’s ‘morning star’ was indistinguishable from ‘fish bone’ and ‘dog turd’. In the meantime, Rori was working a miracle. When I next looked her way she was frolicking about with Furdinand.
“Maker’s Breath!” The last time I had seen Furdinand in exuberant spirits was after Suri’s rescue from Fort Drakon. We had both pounced her the moment she stumbled through the door of Eamon’s estate after we had spent endless hours in anguished distress praying for her safe return. Well, I prayed. Furdinand had gnawed on Suri’s fancy boots. After Suri’s death, the dog lost his reason for living. I had been sure he would die sooner or later, fading away in his grief. But there he was, rushing across the lawn to fetch the stick Rori threw for him. “How in the name of the Maker did she do that?” I wondered out loud, stopping in the middle of my performance of a ‘seahorse’.
“Your Majesty? Wait! Where are you going?” Ignoring Isolde’s protest I left, not even bothering with excusing myself, and joined Rori. She greeted me with a broad grin. Without saying a word she pointed at the picnic party I left behind and then stuck her finger down her throat.
“Sick and tired of playing charades! I finally got one!” I translated her miming. Wagging his tail, Furdinand came bouncing across the meadow, dropping the stick at Rori’s feet. “How did you make him snap out of his stupor?” I wondered. “Even bribing him with cake didn’t work for me.”
“He just needs someone to be there for him,” Rori answered. As simple as that.
“I believe I know what you mean,” I said slowly, regarding her thoughtfully.
“The last to arrive at the oak has to buy a round!" Rori exclaimed before I could get hold of that bittersweet feeling stirring inside of me. POOF! It was gone. I was too busy horsing around with Rori to explore the strange notion any further. Any distraction that kept me from having to deal with my emotions was welcomed. So we played and ran with the dogs, even joined in on their howling.
On the hill across the lawn sat the bachelorettes, watching us with sour faces.
I got my comeuppance after dinner.
“Your Majesty,” Eamon began upon entering my office with Teagan in tow. I should have been working, instead I stood at the window, having a sign language conversation with Rori down in the park. “What are you doing? What is she doing!?” he asked indignantly when he caught sight of Rori on the lawn, sneaking around while looking over her shoulder from time to time, then miming a galloping horse, afterwards moving her arms as if casting a fishing rod.
“Advanced level charades.” I gave Rori a thumbs up.
Brusquely, Eamon drew the curtains shut. “We have to talk.”
“If this is about charades today, I’m so not sorry. And as for your matchmaking, count me out!”
Eamon frowned. “We will talk about that tomorrow. For now, there are more important matters to take care of.”
“More important than marrying me off? Don’t tell me we’re facing yet another Blight.” Bad news called for a drink. I went for the cabinet and found it empty but for a choice of fruit juices. Blast it! Briefly, I was tempted to have Arlington executed.
Eamon made a long pause that was meant to express the severity of his announcement. “We received a warning about an attempt on your life.”
“What else is new?” I sighed, rummaging through the drawers of my desk in search of my super secret flask. Aha! There it was. I turned my back on Eamon and Teagan to take a sip—and almost spat it out again right away when codliver oil filled my mouth. “EWWW!”
“Pardon?” Eamon asked unnervedly.
“That butler is dead meat,” I muttered to myself, unable to bite back a grin. Who would have thought that good old Arlington actually had some sense of humor?
“Your Majesty, you should take this more seriously. You are the last Theirin,” Eamon reminded me as if I were part of a bloodline conservation program. “We do not yet know any details, but your latest decisions are rather... unpopular.”
“At least with the nobles,” Teagan chuckled. “The people love you. They call you Good King Alistair.”
“So, what? You want me to be more careful?” I for sure would pay attention to what I drank next time. The codliver taste still filled my mouth. I suppose I should have been scared. Alarmed. Whatever. But I was feeling so empty inside, so tired of all of this, I honestly couldn’t care. All I could think about was Suri and how we would be reunited if I died.
“Exactly.” Teagan wrapped an arm around my shoulder amicably. “No more sneaking out of the palace to sit around in taverns with the common people.”
“Didn’t you say they love me? Perhaps I should sit in taverns more often and avoid the palace crammed with nobles.”
“No more hanging out with Lady Cousland all alone...”
“Why? Are you afraid she would attempt to murder me?” I laughed without humor.
“It’s inappropriate,” Eamon snapped. “She is in no way suited to become your queen! Your conduct today offended the ladies. I don’t even want to mention her behavior. This needs to stop!” I didn’t want to start a fight with Eamon so I took refuge in defiant silence. “Teagan, hopefully you can talk some sense into him. Excuse me, I have to discuss measures with the commander of the guard.” The moment he turned his back on me, I pulled the curtain aside to confirm Rori’s and my plans to sneak out of the palace and spend a day fishing at the river by giving her yet another thumbs up. I was rewarded with the brightest smile.
“You spend a lot of time with Lady Cousland,” Teagan observed, making me jump as I hadn’t noticed him sneaking up on me. Over my shoulder he watched Rori wave goodbye and bounce off. “I assume you are planning to marry her?”
“Maker, no!” I exclaimed, hurrying to add: “Rori doesn’t want to marry.” I didn’t want to give the impression she wasn’t suited like Eamon said.
“Are you sure?” Teagan asked. “She seems quite enraptured by you.”
“Enraptured? Rori?”
“She runs around with a face as long as a fiddle unless she’s around you. It’s the only time one sees her smile,” Teagan pointed out. “Same with you.”
“We’re pals,” I insisted. “She’s just one of the boys.”
“Indeed.”
“Listen, she really isn’t interested. I’m not interested.” How could anybody expect her to be prepared for marriage after what she had to endure? How could anybody expect me to be prepared for marriage after the loss I had suffered? The rare moments of oblivion we experienced when together weren’t enough to undo the devastation inside. The pain went so much deeper. “Around her I do not have to pretend I’m fine. No fake smiles to make people happy. She doesn’t expect anything from me, least of all to get over Suri.”
Teagan patted my shoulder. “You keep telling yourself that, your Majesty.” And that was all he was willing to say no matter how much I nagged him. No explanation. Nothing. I felt pretty stupid, as if I was missing something essential.
The next morning before dawn I snuck out of the palace. Usually I just put on my old clothes from when I had been just Alistair—Arlington called them rags—and left through the service door. I had lived my whole life as a commoner so it came quite naturally. Maker, I still felt more common than kingly. Teagan, however, knew of my habits and Eamon had set the guards on alert so I had to find another way to escape. Instead of trying to sneak past the guards, I marched past them right in front of their very eyes shortly before their shift ended because they would be exhausted then. Rori’s idea, not mine. I was so nervous I sweated heavily, feeling like a fish in a bowl in my armor. Rori was right, though, they were looking for the king in disguise of a servant, not for some templar in splendid armor.
Rori already awaited me, sitting on the branch of an elm tree in a grove outside the city gates. “Did someone follow you?” she asked in a hushed whisper, letting herself drop off the tree.
“Not that I’m aware of.” I hadn’t told her about the possible attempt on my life as not to scare her—or worse, have her cancel our fishing trip. The responsibility I had as king, the forced matchmaking and my poignant grief—it was suffocating. I was balancing on the edge of a pitch black abyss. Before I had met Rori, I hadn’t cared much if I fell. With her I had found a way to escape. She could offer me distraction and the illusion of a normal life or comfort simply by keeping me company. “Why? Did you notice something odd?”
Nervously biting her lips, Rori took a look around. “I thought there was someone... A shadow moving between the trees... Did you hear that?”
The rustling of leaves made her jump. With our weapons drawn we stared into the twilight of the forest. Something was moving in the undergrowth. Blast! For once I should have listened to Eamon! When the assassins came for me now they certainly wouldn’t allow Rori to escape. Grimly I tightened my grip around the hilt of my sword, ready to defend her.
“Careful now, there it comes... whatever it is,” Rori whispered breathlessly, pointing at... a boar breaking forth the bushes. It ogled at us in surprise, oinked, and hurried on. Rori and I both let out the breath we had been holding. “I’m imagining things,” Rori groaned.
“Maker’s Breath!” I gasped in relief.
“Duh, I feel rather sheepish now.” Rori facepalmed, blushing deep crimson. “Let’s just pretend I didn’t act hysterical and paranoid, yes?”
“I really don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Good boy.”
Rori had hidden the horses between the bushes when she had believed to have spotted a tail. They awaited us saddled up, grazing peacefully. While I shrugged out of my templar disguise, Rori checked the saddle girth again, frowning and muttering to herself under her breath.
“Is something wrong?”
Hesitantly she ran her fingers across the saddle girth of my horse. “I...” she began, then shook her head. “I just thought... I must be mistaken. It’s nothing.” Smiling insecurely, she handed the reins to me. “Papa and Maric went fishing a few miles down the river whenever my father had business in Denerim,” Rori told me, her nervousness still audible in her voice. “Sometimes they even caught a few trout.”
“Sometimes?” I laughed. “Didn’t you say that place is rich in fish?”
“It is. Papa claimed he would have caught many more fish if only Maric hadn’t scared them away with his constant babbling. He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” She grinned. “Like father, like son.”
“I admit our chances to catch anything are slim.” I chuckled, mounting my horse. The moment I sat in the saddle the beast began to snort and roll its eyes, it shook its head and pranced nervously. “Whoa! Easy!” I patted the horse’s neck soothingly and shifted my weight to find a more comfortable position. Bad idea! The horse neighed loudly and bucked. “Blast!” The silly beast reared up and bolted to shake me off while I clung to its neck and tried to stay in the saddle. “Help!” I shrieked—rather unmanly, I know, but really I couldn't have cared less when my mount was breaking into frantic gallop.
“Alistair! Hold on!” Rori cried, stirring her horse to rush after me.
“That’s the plan!” I shouted back at her. Afterwards I didn’t do much talking anymore. I was too busy clinging to my horse. All I managed was some more unmanly screaming and whimpering and a few quick prayers to the Maker. Rori was right behind me, grabbing for the reins. My mad horse just pulled her out of the saddle and she had to let go to avoid getting dragged along. The thundering hooves trampled the ground around her, missing her head by inches only. I was tiring quickly. My fingers became numb, I had a cramp in my leg and felt as if every single bone in my body got rearranged. When the horse bucked again it sent me flying. I heard Rori scream my name, then there was darkness.
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What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted