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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
- 59
- 60
- 61
There's FAN ART for this story! *bounces around giddily* Notevensorry's drawing of Rori during her first night with Alistair: http://noimnotevensorry.tumblr.com/image/110669927343
https://40.media.tumblr.com/3527e4b618e88fc60356f58e8b340586/tumblr_nkjlnvsVTN1u5oyqao1_540.jpg
Check Notevensorry's tumbir and tell the girl how awesome she is, will you? ;) http://noimnotevensorry.tumblr.com/
And here you can find fanart by awesome Erusel: http://onehundred-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/110527524711/sketch-dump-ive-been-reading-such-a-wonderful
Take a look and tell her (?) how fabulous she is.
Chapter 60
The broodmother is dead.
I sit down on the corrupted ground. I so do not care. Oghren tries to take a sip from his flask but fails to open it. His hands are shaking so bad he almost drops the bottle. Sten slumps down on my right side. I've never seen him lose his composure – but even he is shaken. Rori is on her knees on my left side, convulsing as she throws up over and over again. I'd comfort her if I could kick myself out of that horrified palsy. Somewhere behind me a woman is crying hysterically. I don't even have the strength to look who it is. Now that the fight and thus the acute life endangering situation are over, we all have far too much time to actually realize what this thing is, how it came to be here – and what that truly means...
Rori wipes her mouth clean when she struggles to sit up. She leans against me and I instinctly wrap my arm around her shoulder and hug her closer.
"How could they not know?" Rori whispers hoarsely. "It's almost a thousand years ever since the First Blight. How could they not know?"
It takes me some time to realize she's talking about the Grey Wardens. "Either Duncan did not tell me the truth when I asked him..." I say, astonished at how alien my own voice sounds. But that would have been a blunt lie then. I don't believe he would have lied to me. He 'd have said something like 'You'll find out' but he wouldn't have lied. Or Duncan did not know because nobody told him although they knew. “Or they really did not know. We're down here during a Blight. Usually this place would be crammed with darkspawn. I bet they protect these... things.”
I cannot stop thinking about how this once was a dwarven woman. Branka went to the Deep Roads with her whole House in tow. Three hundred dwarves, men and women. How many shared Laryn's fate? And where are they? How many do they spawn and how often? And now, when they are on the surface, when they raid villages... we have to assume they abduct women for that one reason. I don't have to look at her, I know Rori's thinking the very same.
I wish we could have done something for Hespith, although I know she was beyond help. That she committed suicide – in her situation it was the best thing she could do. Isn't it ironic how it probably was the Blight to make this ending possible for her? The darkspawn that was meant to change her into a broodmother got called away by the archdemon – save for the few ones we killed.
Rori is the first one to pull herself together, the first one to stand and straighten. Even Shale is still standing in a corner of the room, being uncharacteristically silent when Rori rises. She takes the flask gently from Oghren's shaking hands, opens it for him and helps him drink as if he was a small child. She gives everybody else but Morrigan a hug of comfort, pets the dog and kisses my cheek. Then she takes care of the witch. Morrigan with her back turned stands away from the group. She's so rigid with her fists clenched at her sides, and still the trembling of her shoulders gives away she's crying. Someone should tell her it's alright to appear human. I do not know what Rori says to her but the result is a rather awkward hug.
"Now let's find Branka," Rori hisses, punching her fist at her palm. Never before have I seen her so furious. I begin to doubt Branka – should she still be alive – will return to Orzammar as a hero – if she returns at all. Rori has a bone to pick with Branka – and it will not be pretty.
We do find the Paragon – and walk right into her trap. If not for the Blight and the dwarven king, Rori would gladly order Leliana, Morrigan and Wynne to shoot that arrogant, self-righteous woman down. Maker! If I believed I could hit her, I'd throw my sword at her.
"You sacrificed your people, all those who believed in you, your lover, for what? An anvil?" Rori gasps in disbelief when Branka explains – if you want to call these platitudes an explanation – what caused her to allow the darkspawn to turn Laryn and all the others into monsters.
"Not just an anvil, silly brat," Branka snorts. She stands there, high above us, looking down on us. That has been her place ever since she started to drive her people through the maze. And afterwards the darkspawn created by what her women had become. "The Anvil! The Anvil of the Void, Caridin's invention that once made the dwarven kingdoms proud."
"Well, it obviously did not fend off the darkspawn then or we wouldn't be standing here," Rori points out." But I guess, if they had someone like you back then, things never would have turned out as bad as they did."
"Of course not."
"People like you make me sick. You make me sick. The end doesn't justify the means. Not at any cost. What you've done... it's nothing great, it isn't heroism, it's a crime."
"You keep ranting, bitch. I will retrieve the Anvil – and if it's the last thing I will ever do. There's only one way for you, Grey Warden, and it's forward through the maze."
"In case we really have to take this insane bitch back to Orzammar to get some king crowned, I might be tempted to shove her into a lava stream afterwards," Rori hisses when we are forced to enter the maze. To say she doesn't like to be used as a tool by Branka is quite an understatement. She did try to find another way out - with Branka mocking her all the time - but there was none. Even Shale couldn't break the construction down that Branka uses to block the exit. So we don't really have a choice. I can't say that brightens my mood. Or Rori's, She keeps kicking stones as we march into the tunnel.
"What you need is an assassin," Zevran mutters. For once even I am tempted to agree. The elf could come in handy after all. Branka, she's the dwarven version of Loghain – maybe she's even worse. We cannot let her get away with this madness.
"Whatever you do, please don't recruit her, kitten."
"Are you nuts?" Rori exclaims. "That bitch would blow up the whole order with her madness. Avernus' crimes pale in comparison to her."
"I am relieved to hear you say so."
"Alistair," Rori says, sounding so serious I stop to look at her. "Should I ever become like her... should I ever overstep the line, you have to stop me. Promise me."
I lift her hand to my lips for a tender kiss. Yes, we're all dirty and covered in... I don't even want to think about it... but really, it's so bad, it doesn't matter much anymore. "You will never be like her..."
"How can you know? Oghren said Branka was a sweet girl when he married her. And look at her now! Hespith said she became obsessed with the anvil. That there was nothing else left in her anymore. Her obsession changed her." She lifts her hand to tuck a lose strand behind her ear, her uncertainty causing her to stammer. "You know, I believe in Avernus' researches. I am willing to do a whole lot of things to make this work for the sake of the Grey Wardens. For both our sakes. I could totally become like her. I would have smuggled lyrium and harmed a lot of people that way..."
"That was hardly anything like what Branka did, kitten."
"It was a first step," she insists. This really bothers her. I think, I understand. Branka, she wasn't always like that. She was outstanding. She probably still is. But she pushed it too far. She crossed that very thin line that separates brilliancy from madness. And it's the worst form of madness as it's calculated.
"Rori, as long as you question your own decisions, I very much doubt you will ever turn into a second Branka." I wrap my arm around her shoulder and even manage a small smile for her. "And just in case, you at least don't have to worry about me," I add with a lopsided grin. "I will have Oghren as a drinking buddy. We can sit in the dark corners of dubious taverns together, sip strong spirits – well, I sip, he pours them down - and complain about our crazy wives..."
"Err... Alistair?" Rori giggles. And she bounces. Just a little, but she does.
"Yes?"
"Did you just say.." She doesn't complete her sentence but squeals. Silly little brat.
"Did I just say what?" I really have no clue what she's getting so excited about.
"Oh, nevermind... ". Rori beams so brightly at me, I just have to beam back at her. It's still a mystery to me how she can do that. Only a moment ago we all were torn apart inside by the horrors we were thrown into, touched deep down by the fate of those who died here, and now Rori just wipes this sorrow away with her brilliant smile. She is my beacon of light in this pitch black darkness. All the tragedies and the brushes with death are a reminder of how short life is. Rori is a reminder of how beautiful it can be as long as it lasts.
"Could the two of you please concentrate on that maze filled with deadly traps?" Wynne scolds as she shoos us down the tunnel.
Oh, yes, the deathly danger we are in – again. After what we've just been through, it almost feels like a walk in the park. A very dark, very dangerous park. Still... no darkspawn, no corruption, no spiders, no broodmothers - it's almost cosy. Maybe we should have a picnic?
At the end of the maze we walk into a huge vast cave with rows of golems standing there like a honour guard. Caridin awaits us at the far end of the hall on a platform where that damned anvil stands.
He's a golem, too.
And he has spent all this time standing there and guarding his anvil. Maker! Can there be anything more dull than being a golem? All this standing around, doing nothing at all. No wonder Shale gets strange thoughts of violence. And it doesn't even remember its past. I guess, it at least could cling to precious memories – if a golem can have precious memories at all...
"Ah, there is a voice I recognize," Caridin drones when Shale mutters its surprise to find him here. "Shayle of the House of Cadash."
"You... know my name? Is it you that forged me then? Is it you that gave me my name?" Shale mumbles, confused and also a bit shocked it seems. This has to be an overwhelming moment for it. This golem knows Shale, knows of its forgotten past.
"I made you the golem that you are now, Shayle," Caridin explains. The way he talks to it... it's almost... tender."„But before that you were a dwarf. Just as I was. The finest warrior to serve King Galtor and the only woman to volunteer."
"The only... woman? A dwarf?"
"Oh boy! Shale's a girl!" I exclaim, earning myself a scathing scowl by the golem.
Who would have thought? Well, it at least explains why she likes all that pretty shiny crystals so much. Or why she actually asked if they made her look fat. Women do that a lot... They wonder if they are too fat all the time. It is completely beyond me, how all these wonderful and beautiful ladies can have so many issues with their bodies. Leliana, she keeps complaining about her thighs. Morrigan hates her nose. Rori thinks she has a fat ass – her words, not mine. I love her ass. And the whole rest of her... I could just stand there and gawk at her all day, grinning foolishly in my admiration of her beauty...
Wynne clears her throat and nudges me. Huh? I tear my eyes away from Rori's backside and find I missed half of the conversation that has been taking place while I was lost in... uhm... contemplation,
I just return to the here and now in time to hear Caridin drone: "If you want the anvil you must hear my story..."
"I was already wondering why he sat here all alone with the anvil for hundreds of years," Rori sighs tiredly. "Okay, what is wrong with it?"
There's nothing wrong with the anvil, but with the people who have the power to use it. Rori and I exchange a look when we hear Caridin talk about those who were forced to become golems. We both know we cannot give Branka the anvil, no matter the cost. She has proven to be ruthless in a totally horrible, crazy, fucked up way.
"I have tried to find a way to destroy the anvil. But no golem can touch it...," Caridin sighs.
Enter Branka. I was already wondering when she would make an appearance. "No, the anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!" she shouts angrily. For such a small person she's quite a huge pain in the ass.
"Shayle, you fought to destroy the anvil once. Do not allow to let it fall into unthinking hands again!" Caridin pleads.
And again we are stuck in the very middle of a conflict and have to make a decision. Well, Rori has to make it. This one wouldn't be a tough one for her - not after Hespith, not after Laryn – if there wasn't the thing with the king. We still have a Blight going on and we do need the dwarves to fight for Ferelden.
"Her hands aren't what you should be worrying about. It's more her head that is seriously damaged," Rori mutters, frowning as she figures her dilemma.
Caridin turns to us desperately, when Shale's confusion becomes obvious to him. "Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!"
"Okay, listen; you were a Paragon once, right?" Rori says, after a quick moment of consideration. "Here's the deal: I help you to destroy the anvil if you support a new king. That's the reason why we are here. They cannot decide on their own, you know. Only if they have a king they can help us stop the Blight."
"Don't listen!" Branka cries. "He's been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness. Help me claim the anvil and you will have an army like you've never seen!"
"You are one to talk," Rori snorts, arms akimbo. "You only needed two years of stewing down here and your mind is completely soft-boiled. Do you really think I would just forget what you have done to Hespith and the others? They were your people and you murdered them! I don't even want to imagine the army you would forge with that anvil!"
"Branka, you mad bleeding nug-tail! Does this thing really mean so much to you that you can't even see what you lost to get it?" Oghren tries to talk sense into his crazy wife. He makes one step closer, she retreats one step, not allowing him to cross the distance between them.
"Look around! Is this what our empire should look like, a crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn?! The anvil will let us take back our glory!" Branka howls, clearly frustrated with us as we cannot see her vision.
"Glory? Glory?!" Rori hisses, her eyes blazing with fury, her fists clenched at her sides, she's trembling with the effort of not just lunging herself at Branka and scratching her eyes out. "You did this all for glory? You... you..."
"„... bloody blasted thrice-cursed whorespawn!" Wynne prompts forcefully when in her anger Rori lacks the vocabulary for a proper insult. "You shoddy piece of crap! You blasted flaming rat turds! You..."
"Errr... alright, Wynne, I think, she got it," I chuckle. The old frail lady can curse like a sailor. Even Oghren is impressed.
"So it fights with Caridin?" Shale inquires. She's so lost. I can't blame her. This has to be quite a shock for her. A woman. A dwarf. Shayle of the House of Cadash. She has a lot to digest there.
"Bloody yes, it does!" Rori snarls.
"Good. That seems right."
"Blast, yes it does!" I growl, my hand already resting at the hilt of my sword.
"Thank you, stranger. Your compassion shames me." Caridin is utterly relieved we didn't give in to the temptation.
"No! You will not take it! Not while I still live!" Branka cries, her eyes flaring with mad determination.
"Branka, don't throw your life away for this!" Oghren begs the Paragon smith that he is married to. He really must have loved her. He still loves her or he wouldn't try to save her as he does. It's the first time the real Oghren emerges from the vapour of the spirits he keeps downing in. I begin to believe, that's the reason why she left him back in Orzammar when she took the rest of her house with her. Perhaps Oghren could have stopped her. And she knew it. Or I am just making this up. I am a hopeless romantic. Maker! Oghren can even now forget about the crimes Branka committed, offering her a future when he has to realize there is none. If this is not love, then I don't know anything about it...
Rori's eyes meet mine, her expression is full of sympathy for the drunken dwarf. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply as she tries to calm down. "Branka, we have to destroy the anvil" she presses through gritted teeth, trying to reason with her when all she wants to do is make her pay for Hespith, for Laryn, for all the others.
"Just give her the blasted thing," Oghren begs Rori. "She's confused. Maybe once she calms down we can talk to her."
"I can't." Rori whispers, touched by the dwarf's plea. "I am so sorry, Oghren... but I cannot give her the anvil. She allowed the darkspawn to turn the women of her house into broodmothers! And what for? Glory. That's not confusion. That's madness. The anvil in her hands would be a terrible tool of destruction.”
Branka won't accept this, though. She is really willing to fight us, fight her own husband to get the anvil. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. With all the crime she has already committed, this is nothing that gets me upset. For a moment it seems Oghren could falter, but he pulls himself together and helps us slay his wife and the golems she controls. I cannot even imagine how hard this has to be for him. No wonder he drinks so much.
When it's over, he kneels there on the ground next to his dead wife. "You sodding crazy nug-tail," he mutters, gently closing her dead eyes that stare at him accusingly. "Why couldn't you listen? Such a sodding waste." He does have a whole lot of practice to pull himself together. Or it's the content of that flask he downs. "Stupid woman. I always knew the anvil would kill her. Err...I suppose, you couldn't bring Branka back? Make her a golem like you?"
"I wouldn't do such a thing to her, even if I could," Caridin drones with sympathy, destroying Oghren's last hope to save his wife. What he can do for us, is forge a crown to give to the new king. I do hope that will do. That was a whole lot of trouble for a pretty piece of metal.
We stand around, doing nothing but waiting for the crown – Maker! I cannot even remember when I last stood anywhere doing nothing at all, not even watching out for someone sneaking upon me to kill. I cannot even feel darkspawn anywhere close by. There's an emptiness in my mind and silence. For the first time in weeks there's nothing but silence. Sure, there's Caridin hammering around on the anvil, but that's a noise outside my head. I can handle that. But inside... inside my mind... the whispering has stopped for now. Only now do I realize how exhausted and tired I really am. I am emotionally drained, close to collapsing both physically and mentally. We all are.
I guess for the moment I can call myself lucky to still be alive. Even luckier as the woman I love is here with me and I can hold her warm, soft body in my arms, feel her breath on my skin and the throbbing of her pulse against my lips.
All Oghren has left is a cold dead body.
He is kneeling next to Branka, muttering to himself. Knowing Oghren he's probably telling her how stupid she was. It hurts to see him like that. Sure, he drives me crazy. He has hideous habits, he is a leering lecher and constantly drunk – but I wished fate would have shown him some mercy.
I don't think she deserves it. Rori doesn't think so either, still we help Oghren paying his last respect to Branka. We're doing it for him, not for her.
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In good times and in bad