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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
- 67
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- 69
@Myron: Thanks a lot! Glad it actually did make more sense. It's awesome that you feel inspired for a story! Go and write it! You know, you should!
@discord_the_lunatic: Thanks for the review. And yep, it certainly got broadened that way. lol
NEW FANART by Notevensorry: http://40.media.tumblr.com/7b51e4bf08dcf059e13daff9d9f0d818/tumblr_nloxxuxbOT1uomlcxo1_1280.jpg
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For the rest of the day I feel awkward. Okay, yes, I feel awkard most of the time, but this is more awkward than usual. It's extraordinarily awkward.
Last nights events still haunt both of us. No matter what Isabela says, for me it's not that easy to just see the fun side of it. Perhaps one could if there weren't any feelings involved, but until last night I never thought I'd ever have sex with anybody I do not love.
Fine... I'd lie if I said I couldn't even imagine it. I imagine quite a lot of things... uhm... dirty things, too... although my head every time feels as if I got a temperature as I blush violently about my own depravity... but thinking about something and doing it, there’s quite a difference.
And now, I've done it. I am so utterly lost and confused; I didn't even have time yet to become flustered about Zevran seeing me naked. And seeing Rori naked. Andraste's flaming sword! What if he hasn't only seen us unclothed but also... doing... it... that...
If I didn't have the worst headache of my life, worse still than after trying to defeat Gregor, worse than after partying with Varric Tethras.... I'd want a drink now... but the mere thought makes me feel sicker than I already do, so I guess I have to endure my suffering without any more alcohol.
Rori behaves strangely around me and I around her. What came so natural now is twisted with insecurity, hurt feelings and self-contempt. Rori tries so hard to be her usual self, she appears like a caricature of herself. Noticing she does, she becomes more and more silent, retreating into herself and shutting me out. That pushes me forward until I find myself behaving as strangely as she did before and in the end we both hardly talk to each other. Usually we would just laugh it off at some point. But today it just won't work. When we are forced to interact, we apologize to each other about almost everything. I am really glad when we finally get to use the bathhouse after a long day of running errands and solving problems for the city guard and remeeting with Ignacio from the Crows.
I sit in a private cabin in my tub all alone, pushing the wooden soap dish and the brush around on the water like little ships while I try not to think about my recent encounter with two women. It doesn't work. Somehow I thought the hot water would wash off all the awkwardness and guilt but it doesn't. I begin to worry that I could have done serious damage to Rori's and my relationship. Really, how stupid have I been? Instead of joining them, I should have stopped Isabela and dragged Rori away from the pirate for her own sake. No use, though, to fret about this now. I really should ask Wynne if there's something like time-changing-magic. That really would come in handy sometimes...
With the city being cramped with refugees and Howe's men all out and about trying to hunt us down, Denerim isn't the safest place for us at the moment. Somehow rumour has spread that we are here and the whole city is like a hornets' nest, noisily and angrily buzzing, with soldiers turning everything upside down. Too bad we do not know any rat runs and that the price on our heads by now is so high, some people would sell their own granny for that money. That's the reason why my sword is in reach, lying across the wooden tub. Zevran is out there with Leliana, keeping watch and we have earned some big favours with the city guard, but I would rather be able to defend myself anyway.
As it is, Rori could be forced to reconsider Isabela's offer to shipus to Gwaren. I’m really not looking forward to that. I'd rather be as far away as possible from that pirate. She said I would enjoy being borrowed... I don't doubt that... on a physical level. And that's something that really scares and confuses me. How can something feel so good and yet so awful at the same time?
I hear Rori splashing around in her tub in the cabin next to mine. It's only a screen separating us. It's hard to ignore her when every sound she makes has me prick up my ears. She's trying to keep it low but I still can hear her sob. Then she mutters to herself but I cannot make out what she's saying. She sounds angry, though, and the noisy splashing indicates she's either kicking around in her tub or hitting the surface of the water. She snorts several times at her own rant, having it almost appear as if she's having a discussion with herself. I hardly dare to breathe anymore, leaning closer to the screen to find out more.
Silence.
Not a single sound. Not even the splashing of water. I wait. Still nothing. What is she doing? She cannot have left without me noticing. Did she fall unconscious? Has she slipped under water? Why doesn't she say anything? Worried out of my mind and not able to endure this tension anymore, I bend over the rim of my tub far enough to pull the screen aside...
...and get hit straight in the face by a dripping wet sponge.
Rori squeals in delight while I still sputter and look stupid.
"Little minx!" I laugh, wiping the foam from my face. She must have known I was eavesdropping and prepared a trap for me.
That's what I get for being in love with a sneaky rogue!
I pick up the sponge to throw it back at her but she dives in her tub and the sponge hits the wall with a wet sucking sound.
"You missed," she grins when she surfaces again. While still wiping the foam from her eyes, she sticks her tongue out at me.
"Yes, I did miss you," I smile. My heart does funny things at the sight of that dripping wet, broadly beaming ginger with that silly heap of foam sitting on top of her head like a droll hat.
Maker, how I love her!
I am so relieved she's back with me.
I wouldn’t trade her for any guilty pleasures.
After we've invited ourselves to Arl Eamon's city estate since the city is so crowded with refugees that they already camp in the streets, we spend a rather comfortable night. Especially comfortable for me as I get to spend it with Rori. Something I wouldn't have expected when I woke in the morning. Holy Maker, she even feeds me cheese while we sit together in front of the bed with the blankets covering the floor as we have our own little indoor picnic in front of the fireplace. If someone had asked me this morning, cheese would have been the last thing I'd have thought to be fed by her.
We horse around a lot, Rori starting it all with trying to throw small pieces of cheese into my mouth. I perform a pretty good imitation of Sten and Zevran, having Rori laugh herself to tears. We pull faces at each other, revive the Grey Warden doll and the archdemon sock for another epic battle, have a pillow fight and end up making love to each other in a completely boring way, not even once switching the position and with a whole lot of tenderness. I even drift off to sleep and it's totally comfortable... at least for me. Probably not that much for Rori as I am on top with my whole weight pressing her down...
"DARKSPAWN!"
With a startled cry I jump out of bed, hobbling around in the darkness, stepping on plates and toppling over Rori's boots. Crawling around on the floor, I feel for my sword while I try to push my still half asleep body and mind into battle mode... something's not quite right here, though... And why in the name of the Maker is Rori laughing so hard?
Tell you something, when you are pleasantly dozing and everything is warm and cozy and soft, then the last thing you expect is your woman yelling into your ear at the top of her voice...
"That was... a false alarm?" I ask stupidly. "Maker! Woman! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Sorry, Alistair, really I'm sorry. I couldn't wake you... poked you, pinched your nose, pulled at your earlobes but you just kept snoring," Rori laughs, not sounding sorry at all.
I say nothing. Just lift myself off the floor in a dangerously calm manner. Then I stroll back to the bed, pretending to be relaxed and then I... tackle her!
"NO!" she squeaks when I mercilessly tickle her. "Mercy!" She squirms and kicks... and accidentally sends a full force blow to my head...
When I drift back to consciousness I have my head resting in Rori's lap and she's holding a cool moist cloth to my forehead. She's humming softly, gently caressing the side of my face with the back of her hand. Mhmm, getting knocked out by her is not that bad after all...
"Sorry," she whispers when I open my eyes after some more time pretending I was still out so I could enjoy her tenderness some longer.
"So that's your way of mind numbing a man?" I tease.
"I could think of another," she mumbles, leaning closer to kiss me.
What can I say? We end up making love to each other again.
And then we sleep like spoons.
This moment I couldn't be any happier. And I finally feel like myself again.
A few days later everything is like it has been before... or I'm just fooling myself? I don't know. We don't talk about the incident with the pirate anymore. Not now. Sure, I am dying to ask Rori what it was like for her to be with a woman but I don't dare. Sometimes I catch her looking at me when she thinks I don't notice, and I see the sadness in her eyes next to that warm affection she has reserved for me alone. I guess, we both are a bit more disenchanted now.
Love for me was always like in the epic love stories. It was about everlasting devotion, about adoration and admiration. It was something pure and holy... Reality is different, though. All those ideals, they turned out not to work for me. Once I accepted that, it's not been a bad thing, because I still adore and admire my beloved fellow Warden, but I can also see her flaws - and that makes me love her even more. I just hope she can cope with my flaws, too.
We've made it out of Denerim with the help of the city guards and are now headed south towards the Brecilian Forest as that's where we think we could perhaps find some Dalish. At least Flemeth said that’s where they would be. But the Brecilian Forest is huge and wild, shrouded in many myths and legends.
The Dalish travel around with their clans, that much we know. Usually they do not want to be found by humans and thus there's no signs on the road saying 'Dalish Camp - 5 Miles ->'. And we all feel reluctant to run aimlessly through the forest in the hope of stumbling across some Dalish.
"If this was the coastlands, I'd find them... perhaps... given a few months time," Rori sighs as we sit around the campfire somewhere at the borders of the huge dark forest. She turns a snowdrop around between her fingers, one of the first that poke their heads out of the snow. It's almost a shame but I had to pluck it for her just because I knew it would make her smile. "Fergus and I, we were out and about almost all summer long. Father loved hunting parties. Not the fancy types where two dozen lords and ladies on horses chase a poor fox across the countryside. We had camps much like ours now and tracked the game. It was all like a big adventure."
"Could you track the Dalish?" I ask, examining my shirt while I lazily stir the soup in the pot. It's more like a broth actually and we threw everything eatable or almost eatable we could find into it. I am really glad about the first signs of spring. It should be easier to find something to eat soon.
"I very much doubt I'd even notice a track," she says thoughtfully. "I am far from being a ranger. A guide would be something." She chews at her bottom lip, while turning the problem around in her mind. I got a totally different problem at hand. And I do know who can fix it.
"Wynne?" I whine, doing my best to sound utterly helpless as I hold up the rim of my shirt to make my problem obvious to anybody who cares to look my direction.
"Yes, Alistair?" The granny mage puts down her book and smiles amiably at me.
"My shirt has a hole in it." I really wish Rori would be a little more careful with my shirts when passion overwhelms her... on a second thought... no... her tearing my clothes off me is worth all the times I sit there with the tip of my tongue stuck out of the corner of my mouth, whilst I squint and try to thread the yarn through that blasted tiny needle eye.
"I see," Wynne observes. "And?"
"Can you mend it?" I give her my best puppy-dog-eye glance.
"Can't you mend your own clothes?" she asks, frowning. "Why do I have to do it?"
"Sometimes I pick up too much fabric and it ends up all puckered and the entire garment hangs wrong afterward." The very shirt I am wearing does show several examples of my misfortune when it comes to mending my clothes. "And you're... you know, grandmotherly. Grandmothers do that sort of thing, don't they?" At least I like to imagine it that way. My own experience with grandmothers is rather limited. "Darning socks and whatnot. You don't want me to have to fight darkspawn in a shirt with a hole, do you? It might get bigger. I might catch a cold."
"Oh, all right," Wynne sighs. "I'll mend your shirt."
Beaming at her, I immediately slip out of the shirt and hand it to her, wrapping myself in a blanket instead. "Ooh! And while you're at it, the elbows kind of need patching too..."
"Careful, young man, or puckered garments may be the least of your problems," Wynne threatens with a needle already stuck between her lips as she chooses yarn from a little box. I do my best to put all my boyish charm into my smile and watch Wynne melt. That is until Rori comes along.
"Ohhh, you mend Alistair's shirt? Can you darn my socks, too? There's a hole... err... two holes..." She pulls off her boots and wiggles both her big toes that are sticking out of the holes in her rainbow coloured striped archdemon socks.
"Can't you darn your own socks, young lady?" Wynne asks unnerved.
"No? Nan or one of the maids always did that for me..."
Five minutes later both Rori and I are armed with needles and obediently follow Wynne's instructions.
"I already had her wrapped around my little finger," I growl at Rori. She sucks at her finger where she stung herself, glaring at me in return. We both try to appear utterly miserable but Wynne stays unimpressed. She sips her wine as she watches us and seems unwilling to end our suffering.
"You know, of all the mages I've met you have to be the first one I can honestly say I've really liked," I start a new attempt to butter the granny up. I mean it, though. Wynne has changed my point of view when it comes to mages.
"Why thank you, Alistair. I am quite touched. I like you, too, Alistair. I imagine my son would have grown up to be someone like you." She smiles, looking much like an old cat. "But I still won't mend your shirt. You do have to learn how to do it properly. Rori, my dear, don't pick your eyes out with that needle. That sock is not your enemy."
"It's the archdemon sock," Rori mutters, stabbing violently at the helpless garment. "It has devoured the Grey Warden doll twice."
"Your son?" I inquire. "I thought you said you were never married?" I've never heard Wynne talk about a son. It seems odd she wouldn't at least have mentioned him.
"That's true. I never have been." Wynne sounds a little sad I think, melancholic.
"I... oh. Then this wasn't... before you joined the circle?" I am a little confused now. As far as I know templars are supposed to make sure mages behave. It doesn't always work, though. Jowan and Lily are the worst example of how much it doesn't work. The Chantry and the templars often seem to forget that mages are humans after all. And they did not choose this life. All those rules, they were made for a reason... but I am beginning to wonder, if they are too strict.
"I joined the Circle at the age of nine. So no," Wynne says. "Do you still like me?"
"Err... yes? Why wouldn't I?" All I can think about is how similar our fates have been. She's been locked away in that tower ever since she was a child and if not for Duncan I'd have been locked away in the templar order for the rest of my life.
"Good. It appears you got away from the Chantry just in time." The granny mage returns to her book - after she has thoroughly scolded Rori for all the knots in her yarn and the mighty big mess she has made of the miserable archdemon sock. Rori just grins sheepishly - and then triumphantly when Wynne finally takes her socks from her to repair the damage.
"What happened to your son?" I blurt out after a while.
"I honestly don't know, Alistair," Wynne sighs, handing one sock back to Rori. "You could wash that one for a change, young lady. You've picked up Alistair's horrendous habits."
"They always freeze after washing," Rori complains. "I can't dry them with magic." She puts the sock back on despite Wynne's nose wrinkle. "Why don't you know about your son?" she asks.
Sighing Wynne drops her hands to her lap, staring at the second colourful sock as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "He was... taken from me," she finally admits. "Such births are seldom, as there are ways to prevent it, but it does happen. Any child born to a Circle mage belongs to the Chantry."
"I... didn't know. I'm sorry." I feel like a complete idiot now for having pulled that memory to the surface. Rori gets up to give Wynne a hug.
"It's all right. It was a long time ago. A very long time ago." The old mage smiles sadly at us. She doesn't sound as if it is alright. Not at all.
"Couldn't you do something about it?" It's so cruel to take a baby away from his mother, a mother who would have loved him, cared for him... My mother gave me away because she thought it would be better for me... For the first time I try to understand how she must have felt about leaving me behind.
"Do what? I was weak from the birthing process and there were... no, there was nothing I could do."
"What about his father?" Rori asks. She's as shocked as I am. This is... wrong, isn't it? Sure, the tower doesn't look much like a place for a baby... and there's the danger of mages turning into abominations... can a baby or a toddler be possessed if they hadn't yet developed their magical talents? We've met a possessed cat... so could a demon be a danger to any creature? I think I can see why the babies would be taken away... it is still cruel... Isn't there any other solution? The Grand Cleric and my Knight-Commander would disagree. They'd have me scrub all the pots in Aeonar for the rest of my life just for my subversive thoughts.
"He was a templar. There was nothing he would have done. Nothing he could have done." Wynne hands the second sock back to Rori. "Are you shocked now?"
"No," Rori replies quickly. She looks thoughtful when she puts her sock back on.
"Do you think about him?" I ask softly.
"All the time," Wynne replies in a hardly audible voice. It's heartbreaking. "Now, give me your shirt, young man," the mage adds quickly, trying to sound resolute.
Wynne and her lost son occupy my thoughts for the rest of the evening. Her fate touches me deep inside. That she isn't angry at those who hurt her so much, I can hardly understand it. I turn the problem round and round in my head to find a solution but there is none. It's probably quite arrogant to even believe someone like I could make a difference...
"You could make a difference, you know," Rori whispers to me in the darkness of our tent. She startles me out of my gloomy thoughts that have been running in circles for hours now.
"Who? Me?" I ask stupidly. "What could I possibly do? Scold Greagoir and Cullen next time we visit the tower? Bribe them with cookies like Sten did with Caroll?"
"Kings can change things," she insists.
"I am no king." Maker! We're not talking about that subject again, are we?
"But you could become one some day. And then you would have the power to change the rules."
"Rori, this is a Chantry competence. I couldn't mess around with that even if I was king."
She sits up, excitedly clapping her hands once. "Of course you could! It's a delicate issue, I admit. Father always said a ruler has to be considerate, thoughtful, cunning and brave."
"I'm not even half of that. Certainly not cunning," I mutter but Rori doesn't really listen to me
"There's times and matters for big reforms and times and matters that ask for a careful approach," she explains patiently, every inch her father's daughter. "You probably couldn't force them to accept big changes. But you could start with small ones and at some point small changes add to a bigger one."
"You have seen the tower, you know how they live, locked in and guarded like criminals..."
"Oh, whoa, what happened to my obedient little templar? You sound like a keen rebel," Rori teases.
"I am neither overly obedient nor am I little," I sulk. "I just... it's so unfair."
"A ruler has to aim for making the lives of all his subjects better. But he also has to realize he cannot make everybody happy all the time."
"Thanks for the lecture, Bryce," I sigh, quickly holding my hands up in defence when she swats at me. "HEY! Hitting the king certainly wasn't part of your father's ruling agenda!"
"That's what the sparring ground was for," Rori laughs. She speaks with great fondness and a hint of sadness of her father but the mere memory doesn't make her break into tears anymore. "Although it never worked much with Maric, he was a better swordsman than my father."
I am afraid Rori with her nasty tricks and below-the-belt-moves could kick my ass into agreeing to anything she got into her mind.
"My father did that with our alienage in Highever, small changes, I mean," she goes on, not letting herself getting distracted from that topic. She even pushes my hand away when I sneak it under her shirt that is actually mine. "He declared the ius primae noctis void..."
"The what?"
"The right of a noble man to sleep with another man's bride right after the marriage and before the husband does. Most banns would never try that with their human subjects. But with elves, it's a difference. You remember what Darrian Tabris told about his own marriage and Vaughan Kendells?"
"Sure I do. Didn't do much to improve my opinion about Vaughan," I mutter, trying once more to coax Rori into letting me make love to her instead of receiving a lecture in good governance. She's on a mission, though.
"Alistair! Be a good boy and behave yourself!"
"You sound like when you talk to Barkley," I pout.
"And like Barkley you will get a reward," she laughs, taking my hands in both of hers to stop me from fondling her breasts. Sighing, I accept my fate. "Anyway, after the ius primae noctis was declared void in Highever, Father made sure the other banns and arls owing him loyality followed suit. Then he went and raised the salary of elven servants. He also abated the higher rent for elven farmers. They still earned less than humans and the raise was more symbolic than it helped erase their poverty... but it was a start, you know."
"It's still unfair, isn't it? Why didn't he treat them as equals?"
"Because the humans wouldn't have accepted that. For many, elves are lesser beings. They are cheap workers. You push a huge reform down people's throats and you'd have to deal with riots and pogroms."
"So in case we end this Blight before it devours all of Ferelden and in case we survive and in case I become king and still got something to rule over left, I could try and make things better for the mages," I quickly summarize before Rori can carry on with her lecture.
"Exactly."
"So, you're done now?" I ask hopefully as she lets go of my hands and leans in to place a soft kiss on my lips. "Then where's my reward? And can I choose what I get?"
"So impatient, your Highness?" she teases, her voice a seductive purr as she crawls on my lap. "What do you want?"
"Err... could you try to... put it into your mouth...," I stammer, already blushing deep crimson. "... real deep... like... you know, swallow it... err... like Isa...?" I bite my tongue before the name can slip but it's already too late. Why, oh why can't I ever think before I speak? That can't be that hard, can it? But no! I have to go and put my foot right in my mouth! I wince and duck my head, waiting for the storm. "So-sorry...?"
Dead silence.
"Rori?" I ask timidly.
"Alistair," she finally coos in a very very soft voice, "are you sure you want my teeth anywhere near your manhood right now?"
"No?" I croak as I begin to sweat.
"A very wise decision, your Highness."
Oh, Andraste, help me...
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In good times and in bad