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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
- 51
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- 53
Notes:

Includes spoilers from the novel The Calling.
I always wondered why templar-vow-less Alistair would have taken lyrium when Cullen claims a templar first takes lyrium after completing his vows. I tried to find a possible explanation.

Chapter Text
When walking in a shabby, gloomy area inhabited by seedy and dubious characters you just should keep walking and leave as quickly as possible. What you shouldn't do is, enter a dark alley with even darker corners when one of these seedy and dubious characters goes "Shush!" as soon as they see you and then beckons you to follow them. This is always a really, really bad idea. I mean, selfpreservation just screams at any person with as much as a thimble of common sense to ignore that person and move on.
And what does our fearless leader do?
She walks over there for having a chat with the seedy and dubious characters and we can all be glad they didn't plan to murder us on the spot but need some lyrium smugglers that can actually leave Orzammar at the moment.
"So, let me get this straight: we take some amount of a yet unnamed substance to a yet unnamed place and sell it to a yet unnamed person with a bonus for ourselves from the purchaser and one more from you when we return with the next order?" Rori summarizes the whole very dubious affair. I've been trying to pull her away by her elbow several times but she shook me off, ignoring any attempt to stop her from doing something highly illegal and totally wrong.
She chews on her lower lip and frowns thoughtfully. "How about gaining some new customers?" she asks the seedy and dubious dwarf.
"Oh, hey, wait! May I have a word with you, Rori? Now!" This time I don't let her push me away but just drag her along until we are out of earshot. "What in the name of the Maker do you think you are doing there, Rori Cousland?" I snap at her, feeling tempted to throttle her, when she just looks at me with that sheepish grin and her eyes all round and wide and innocent. The little girl act, oh I am so not fooled! "You cannot smuggle lyrium! It's illegal! Do you actually realize what they will do with us if we get caught?"
"If we get caught, smuggling lyrium will be our last problem," Rori points out. "We are wanted for murdering King Cailan."
"But we are innocent!"
Rori snorts, crossing her arms in front of her chest defiantly. "Tell that to the hangman."
"Don't we have other things to do? Like ending the Blight? We don't have time for big deal lyrium smuggling."
"Avernus needs lyrium for his research. If we don't want to rob Chantries and steal from templars, we have to buy it from smugglers. So why not make our own deal?"
Ahh, I tend to forget about that crazy old mage and his research. A research Rori believes in - whatever she hopes to achieve that way. I am beginning to realize she won't just sit down and accept her lot as a Grey Warden. I recall what Duncan told me about her father, how Bryce Cousland with his dying breath told his daughter that she will live and change the world. I wonder if he knew what she is capable of.
"Rori, this is wrong!" I do not often get into a fight with Rori, mostly we agree, but sometimes her moral aspects are a little more flexible than mine. I know what lyrium can do. I took it if only for a short time. It is highly addictive. Usually templars only take their first sip of lyrium after completing their vows. I never took my vows but still I took lyrium. I suspect they gave it to me because I clearly showed, I did not want to become a templar. When my Knight-Commander gave me that small vial, ordering me to drink it, I did it because that's what soldiers do, following orders. It still felt awfully wrong. I believe they gave the lyrium to me to tie me to the order through my addiction. Well, it did not work. Still, lyrium to me is like a red rag to the bull.
"Why? We don't sell it to addicts or something like that. We do not hurt anybody. We use the lyrium for research that can help the Grey Wardens," Rori says stubbornly. She knows how I feel about lyrium, still she would act as a smuggler to make her deal.
"What do you think will happen to the lyrium he asks you to smuggle before you can make that deal with him for Avernus? That will be sold to addicts for sure and if they blow up their minds with it, it will be your responsibility." I am so angry with her I don't even notice I shove her against the wall until she shoves back.
"Don't you shove me around, Alistair," she hisses like a cat.
"Can't you see what you are doing? Risking lives for a research? A research that could blow up Warden's Peak and everybody and their dog happening to be there." We just should leave it like it is. Like Grey Wardens have left it ever since the order was founded almost 1000 years ago. We know absolutely nothing about the secrets of the order, about the darkspawn or the Deep Roads, about Blights and the archdemons. And she wants to mess around with all that?
"Avernus didn't blow up the keep during the last two hundred years, I very much doubt he will do so now. And as for the smuggling, I will try to make the deal without having to make the delivery. But if I can't convince the dwarf to do business with me without me smuggling for him first, then that's what I will do. Once." Thus said she turns away from me, leaving me standing there while she makes her deal. I inhale deeply and fanatsize about spanking her real hard for this. Stubborn little beast. Ruthless, that's what she is - well, sometimes. Maybe that's what makes her outstanding. Her determination and the willingness to do what she has to do to get what she wants. I just hope she will know when to draw a line.
So with the lyrium in Rori's backpack we're on our way back to the surface and the Circle.
For the next two days we hardly talk to each other. I am mad at her. Truly mad. So mad that I make her put up her own tent and sleep alone at night. She waIks away crying, and it cuts my heart like a hot knife. One with edges and spikes that gets twisted and turned once thrust into the wound. The first night I hardly sleep at all and when I do, I toss and turn and the nightmares tear at my mind. I am tempted to crawl out of my tent and go to her, but I can't just give in like that. I miss her like crazy when she's only in her tent across the camp - or right in front of my tent, according to the shadow that is cast at the tarpaulin. I watch her shadow, how she paces, how she turns away and returns, her hesitation, the way she hugs herself, how she slumps her shoulders and shakes her head, how her whole body tells about the turmoil inside of her. But then she makes up her mind and leaves, shattering my hopes and hers.
The next day is the very same. My morning ritual takes place without Rori and I cannot stand it any longer to be cut off her. Morrigan's snappish remarks don't make it any better. She's completely gleeful, seeing how devastated I am. After a second night without Rori I decide I don't care that much about the lyrium and the people who could buy it. I cannot endure this anymore. I crawl out of my tent at the break of dawn, determinded to make up with Rori. To find her standing right in front of my tent, her eyes all puffed and red, her nose snotty, trails of tears smeared across her cheeks, that sight leaves me speechless.
She only wears one of my shirts and her boots, shivering in the cold, snowflakes glittering in her bright red hair in the glow of the campfire. "I'm sorry," she breathes, her lips quivering as if she is about to burst into tears again, while I only stand there like a fool and gawk. "You were right. To deliver the lyrium to the dealer is wrong." A dealer located at Kinloch Hold, so he's either a mage or a templar, and we both know who that one will sell the lyrium to. "So I will not make this delivery."
Did I wash my ears this morning? Because I think I must have misunderstood. I stand there and stare and blink while Rori timidly glances at me, looking small and vulnerable the way she hugs herself. "But what about your deal? What about the lyrium for Avernus?" This is so important to her. She believes in Avernus. She believes in what he can do for the Grey Wardens - and more important for herself - and for me.
"Well, I got the package that was meant for Kinloch Hold. That should do for a while until I find a way to provide Avernus with more lyrium. The end doesn't justify the means. You were right about that. And I guess, I have to thank you for making me realize that what I was about to do is wrong."
"Oh Rori..." It feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted of my shoulders.
"Can you... can you forgive me?" she asks meekly, a startled gasp following her question when I pull her into my arms and kiss her fiecely. She's so taken by surprise, she completely forgets to kiss me back until I coax her to open her mouth to me. Then she responds - and oh how she responds! Shortly afterwards we both tumble back into my tent and I quickly find out she doesn't wear any smallclothes.
I missed her so much, it felt like starving slowly. Seems she is equally hungry, as we don't even bother getting out of our clothes. Her skilled fingers pull my breeches open while I push her to lie on the furs and blankets, making her spread her legs for me. There's not much tenderness, no time wasted when the urge to satisfy our needs is so overwhelming. It's all fierce kisses and nails raked down my back, tearing blood, love bites and the uncontrolled noises of pleasure that accompany our rough love making. She'll be sore afterwards. And the scratches on my back will burn for at least two days. But who cares? She's here back with me and that's all that counts.
"Merciful Andraste! Thank the Maker, they have made up!" Wynne's voice breaks the silence that follows our roaring climaxes.
"There's no living with them if they don't romp at least once a day," Leliana agrees from the other side of the camp.
"Ahh, there's nothing like good, wild make-up-sex," Zevran purrs in his heavy accent.
"And there I thought I'd get some undisturbed sleep, but no! She had to let that fool back into her bed," Morrigan groans.
Having collapsed on top of Rori, my face pressed at the crook of her neck, I smile against her sweaty skin. My heart is pounding heavily in my chest, my blood is soaring through my veins, my nerves are tingling and my breathing is too ragged for speaking. I feel so alive.
"I missed you," Rori mumbles, nuzzling my neck before she kisses my chin, then my lips and the tip of my nose softly.
"I missed you, too," I whisper. And then I make sure we catch up on all the other things we missed, mostly those that require a horizontal position. That day we only leave camp around midday.
Our candidate for becoming king of Orzammar wants us to enter the Deep Roads to search for Paragon Branka. We know less about the Deep Roads and the darkspwan than a dwarven toddler but we for sure got that much: You do not go down there without a thorough preparation. I mean, Rori, Barkley and I are the only Grey Wardens and thus the only ones immune against the taint. The others... they are risking to be infected and that means a certain death - or becoming a ghoul. And then we would have to bash their heads in.
"There's a recipe in my mother's grimoire that could help us," Morrigan offers. She's not too fond about going into the Deep Roads but she pulls herself together. Orzammar already had a very bad effect on her mood. There's no living with her anyway, but underground she's just a complete pest.
"I recall, twenty years ago a group of Grey Wardens came to the tower," Wynne says. She knits a pullover for Schmooples while she rides. Nugs obviously aren't made for Fereldan autumns and Leliana has to wrap the ugly beast into her coat to keep him from freezing to death. Unfortunately Schmooples isn't yet housebroken. "The First Enchanter presented some potions to King Maric, as he was travelling with the Grey Wardens. He said it would protect him from the taint."
I almost fall off my horse at that piece of information. "Maric went into the Deep Roads with a group of Grey Wardens?" I exclaim. "And you never thought about telling me so before?" I cannot believe she kept that to herself.
"That was twenty years ago, son. I only just remembered. I am an old woman after all." Wynne sourly remarks. "You can be glad I remember at all." She frowns at her knitting. "Oh, look here, now I missed a loop!" She falls silent while repairing the mess she claims is all my fault by startling her. I am busy digesting the information she just gave me.
Twenty years ago. I've heard that before. Just where? Some noble man mentioning Maric went missing and how Loghain searched for him twenty years ago.
I am going to be twenty next week. Coincidence?
I exchange a look with Rori and the way she frowns she's already doing the math as well.
"Duncan was there, too," Wynne suddenly goes on as if she was talking about the weather. "But he was a very young man then. Not older than you are now, Alistair. I hardly recognized him when I met him at Ostagar. He wasn't introduced by name. I just remembered him because he was such a dark skinned, handsome young fellow. And I saw him sneaking out of the hall while the First Enchanter held his very very long and very very boring speech. I swear, King Maric was almost nodding off several times." She chuckles at the memory.
"Who else was there?" Rori asks.
"Oh, lets see... I cannot recall them all, I'm afraid. I remember their leader, a strong and tall woman with short white hair. They had a dog just like Barkley. And an elven mage. She was tiny.... And two very handsome knights..."
"What about names? Do you remember any names?" I press her. I cannot believe Duncan never told me anything about that. He knew Maric was my father. I suspected he knew him but not like that. I cannot believe he never said a word! Why would he keep this a secret? Or did he simply not think about it? How could he possibly not remember this when I was a constant reminder of Maric?
My thoughts are turning in circles, running wild like ants in an anthill. I almost miss Wynne's answer while I try to figure out what is going on and why nobody ever feels like telling me anything of importance!
"No, son, I don't. But there should be a record. If the First Enchanter kept one at all. I mean, with the whole chaos that took place a few weeks later and the Fereldan army arriving at the tower..."
"What? Army? Chaos? What in the name of the Maker are you talking about?"
"I really don't know, son." Wynne rubs her temples tiredly as she tries to force the memories to the surface. "They didn't tell us anything afterwards. The First Enchanter was replaced, that's all I know. But why and how and where he went - well, there were a whole lot of rumours. Some said it was an Orlesian intrigue, some said the darkspawn invaded the tower, some said the First Enchanter was made tranquil. I really don't know what truly happened."
The wind whips snowflakes around, making it hard to see where we're going and even harder to talk. We fall silent, which is okay for me because I'm brooding. Not that I am any smarter at the end of the day.
A few days later we arrive in time at Kinloch Hold to witness Cullen and Carroll hauling around a bundle of a man with a sack over his head, his wrists bound behind his back and his ankles tied together. He struggles against the templars who grunt and curse as they try to get the mage into the boat.
"Anders!" Cullen snaps exasperatedly. "Stop kicking! We'll drop you into the lake if you don't keep still!"
"And I am not going to go after you," Carroll informs him.
"Typical! Templars threatening a mage to drown him! Now, that's how you pretend to protect us?" comes a muffled voice from within the sack.
"I meant it as an accident, not a threat!" Cullen growls, trying to grip the struggling mage harder. He's squirming like a worm and in the end Cullen and Carroll have to put him down. Both sweat heavily.
"Of course you'd claim it to be an accident!" the mage wails, wiggling around on the ground. "None of you would ever admit they were committing murder!"
Cullen wipes his brow, frowning when spotting us. "You haven't come to recruit this one as well, have you?" he greets us.
"Then we at least would get rid of him," Carroll snorts. "They should make this one tranquil."
"NO!" the mage wails, squirming even more now. If he doesn't watch out, he'll fall into the lake.
"Shut up!" Carroll snarls and kicks the mage's head full force with his foot - a foot in a heavy boot.
"Carroll!" Cullen shouts, yanking his fellow templar away from the now very still mage, before Carroll can kick him again. "Are you nuts?" Cullen kneels next to the mage, pulling at the sack that is quickly soaked with bright crimson. "Oh Maker!" The mage's face is ashen. It's a young, badly shaved man with dark blonde hair, a golden earring and a heavily bleeding laceration at his forehead. "Blast!" Cullen curses, pressing the sack to the wound to stop the bleeding.
"Let me take a look at him." Wynne steps forward and Cullen gladly lets her take over.
"What did you think you were doing?" the templar snaps at his companion, fists clenched and anger hardly suppressed.
Carroll just shrugs. "One mage less. Who cares? He's trouble, I tell you. This is the third time he ran away. Why the Knight-Commander doesn't have him made tranquil or executed is beyond me. I tell you, one day this asshole of a mage will be far more trouble than he is worth. I say, drop him into the lake when we're right in the middle. Say he fought back. Say we couldn't hold him. Problem solved."
Cullen clearly struggles with himself. Anders sounds quite like a pest - from a templar's point of view. That type of mages, they teach you better to be careful, better one or two tranquils more than a mage that is a possible threat. Mages who run away are a threat. So Carroll isn't altogether wrong. But killing a mage just like that, it's murder. I don't know Cullen well, but what I got to know of him, he became a templar because he believes in what they do. He wants to protect. And that means protecting the mages as much as any other human being. Cullen's faith has been tested lately when the mages ran amok in the Circle. I totally understand, he's having a very hard time, deciding what is right and what is wrong.
"Carroll, you return to the Circle. I take care of Anders," Cullen finally says, glowering at his fellow templar. Carroll opens his mouth to protest, then just shrugs and climbs into the boat, leaving Cullen back at the shore with us and the injured mage.
Connor will be brought to Kinloch Hold once the Circle has recovered from the rebellion. Templars like Carroll make me cringe. To imagine Connor could be at Carroll's mercy - it's nothing that I want to happen to the boy. He has suffered enough. For the rest of his life he will carry the weight of his guilt and remember the ones his weakness has killed. But he is only a little boy and nobody protected him from what he is capable of as a mage. Could one really blame him?
"You need a hand with that mage?" I offer, feeling sympathy for Cullen.
"Now he is unconscious, he shouldn't be that big a problem," Cullen sighs tiredly. He looks as if he doesn't get much sleep lately. "You don't want to recruit him? No? I am relieved to see, you got at least some common sense."
I help Cullen anyway, carrying Anders to another boat. It's far gentler than hauling him over a shoulder. Morrigan meanwhile glares daggers at both me and Cullen. He is bound to notice her and with her staff she's easily identified as a mage.
"And who would you be?" he asks tiredly.
"A Grey Warden recruit," Rori prompts before Morrigan can say something stupid. And according to her sneer she was just about to dig her own grave. Too bad Rori saved her.
Cullen quirks an eyebrow but seems almost relieved that Morrigan is not yet another problem he has to deal with. "You recruit far too many mages," is all he mutters. Rori shrugs and offers a sheepish grin that Cullen just answers with an exasperated groan. He closes his eyes tiredly and rubs the back of his neck.
While the others load the ferry with the belongings we need and Shale stomps off to wade through the lake once more, Cullen and I row the boat with Anders back to the tower - just in case the mage wakes and really does something stupid. Morrigan certainly will have something to say about me helping the templar, but I couldn't care less.
"Can I ask a favour of you?" I begin once we are out of earshot. I row while Cullen keeps watch over Anders.
"What kind of favour would that be, your Highness?" The templar is quite wary. He probably thinks about Rori and her habit of recruiting dangerous mages.
I ignore the fact that I am being called 'Your Highness' again. People keep ignoring me anyway when I tell them to stop that. "There's a boy, about ten years old. His name is Connor. He will be taken to the Circle soon - and... I'd like to ask you to watch over him."
"I'm a templar, that includes watching over mages. You should know that, your Highness."
"Yes, but... there's templars like you or Knight-Commander Greagoir and there's templars like... Carroll."
"After what happened in the Circle our nerves are on edge," Cullen says carefully, shifting on his seat uncomfortably. He would defend his fellow templar but I think, he gets what I mean. "Why is this boy so special to you?"
"He's Arl Eamon's son. Eamon raised me. I owe his family."
"The possessed boy from Redcliffe? They say he got cured." The way Cullen's jaws firmly clench, that haunted look in his eyes give away he's not convinced. Not at all.
"A mage entered the Fade and fought the demon. It's positive Connor is not possessed anymore."
Cullen just snorts. I guess, if I had been in his place I'd rather get rid of any abomination or ex-abomination at once just to make sure. "So you want a special treatment for him after all he has done because of what? Because he is the son of an Arl?" Not too fond of the nobility, is he? Well, I can't blame him. There's a lot of noble snobs out there who are everything but noble in their deeds. But it is neither Connor's fault that he was born noble nor that he was born a mage.
"Cullen, he's only a child. He didn't mean to cause any harm."
"And yet he killed so many." The templar is merciless in his judgement. He probably has to be. I'm so glad this is not my burden. Darkspawn isn't likely to earn my sympathy.
"It will haunt him forever. Cullen, please, this will be hard for Connor anyway. He's afraid. He'll be forced to leave home." Leaving home. I know how that feels. Even if it's only a home one imagined. It is tough for a child.
"Like any other mage," Cullen says forcefully.
"Don't you think this is horrible?"
Cullen by now is as exasparated with me as I am with him. "You've seen what this boy is capable of. He has to be controlled and watched."
"I know! Still, he has my sympathy."
Cullen groans and tiredly rubs the back of his neck. The wind is icy, tearing at our capes, snowflakes biting the exposed skin of our faces. The templar shrugs out of his cape to cover the still unconscious mage with it. "Alright. I will look after that boy, make sure he's not bullied," Cullen finally agrees.
"Thank you, Ser."
Cullen grunts, seeming annoyed with himself to have actually agreed to my request. "You would have sucked as a templar, your Highness."
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In good times and in bad

Notes:

Chapter Text