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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
- 70
- 71
- 72
@Boardtwotiers: Thank you very much for your awesome review. So much praise, it makes me blush. Hell, I'm glad so many people think this is a funny fic - because that's what it's supposed to be and it would really suck if nobody laughed about it, right? ;) As for the grammar: mea culpa. I do know I don't get everything right. English is not my first language and I try best I can, but I'm afraid, I don't always manage. I have a British reader for proof-reading the chapters ever since - I hope I remember correctly - chapter 60. She should be able to make things better, unfort she doesn't have the time to check the older chapters, too. There's probably also quite some typos. I reread a lot but I cannot always see them. I'm partially blind, so reading is difficult and I guess the text more than I read it. The brain is capable of filling in blank spaces even if you cannot really see the letters. Sucks for correcting texts, though. Anyway, I do hope, you can still enjoy reading this story despite all the grammar and spelling failures. ;)

Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text
The three elves lead us deeper into the forest at the break of dawn. We didn't get much rest last night. The werewolves didn't dare to attack our camp but we all had to be watchful instead of simply relying on the insomniac golem. I didn't get to talk to Rori about her foot and when I ask her in the morning, she just smiles and says that she's alright.
"My boots are made of dragonskin, remember?" Rori points out. "And they were made by Wade. That werewolf could have gnawed at it all it wanted, there's no way through." She keeps herself busy with soaping my face for my shave as she talks. Not once does she look me in the eye.
"Rori... you would tell me if... wouldn't you?"
She kisses the top of my head, right there where the werewolf sawed off some of my hair. That blasted bastard! "You worry too much, Alistair. Really, everything is fine. Now keep still."
Rori claims she's fine. So does Lyna, the elven woman with the always tousled dark hair and her large golden eyes. The few days we've been travelling together now, she's been acting as if nothing was wrong with her. She cannot fool me, though. I've seen too many people infected with the taint to misinterpret the black shadows beneath her feverish hazy eyes and the paleness of her skin. She's so weak, she can hardly walk, so we have her ride with Pol seated behind her, holding her so that she won't fall off the horse.
"So... your illness... it's the darkspawn taint, isn't it?"
"Can't fool a Grey Warden, huh?" Lyna offers a pained grin."A friend and I, we've been too curious, stuck our noses too deep into some cave and found a mirror with a dark aura. Tamlen touched it. I told him no but he was never one to listen." She sighs heavily, her expression thoughtful and sad as she is lost in memories. The way she says his name... with so much warmth and affection and sadness... "I don't know what happened then or how I made it out of that cave. Tamlen just disappeared. We still don't know what happened to him."
"Tamlen," I mutter, trying to remember where I've heard that name before.
"We've met an elf of that name a while ago," Rori says carefully. She reaches into one of her satchels at her belt and pulls a small amulet from it, showing it to Lyna.
"That's Tamlen's!" she gasps, snatching it from Rori as if it was a sacrilege of the human to touch it. "Where did you meet him? What did he say? Why doesn't he come back?"
"He... he's dead," Rori says quietly after a moment of hesitation. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"Dead?" Lyna shrieks. "What did you do, shem? Did you kill him?" Her eyes blaze with hatred and disgust.
"He had turned into a ghoul," Rori explains softly.
"You killed him!" Lyna spits into her face. Her expression is a mask of pain and contempt. If she had any strength left, she'd throw herself at Rori to scratch her eyes out. "Dirty shem, you killed him!"
"Lyna, if he was a ghoul there's nothing they could have done," Fenarel says soothingly, her name a soft caress. He tries to take her hand but she pulls away from him, leaving him stand there with his hand outstretched. She's out of reach for him, no matter how hard he tries. Tamlen, though dead and gone, stands between them.
"The shem killed him. Murderous brute," Lyna hisses with tears streaming from her eyes.
"Oh, shut the fuck up, bitch," Rori snarls with her teeth bared. She glowers at the mourning elf, her fists are clenched at her sides as if she has trouble to hold herself back from punching Lyna straight in her face.
This... outburst... it comes so unexpected and forcefully, it leaves me stunned and speechless for a moment. What in the name of the Maker...? She's been all... understanding and nice and then BOOM!
"Shame on you, Rori Cousland." Wynne is the first one to recover. "This is no appropriate behaviour for a young lady... this is no appropriate behaviour for anybody!"
Meanwhile I pull Rori away from the elf, stopping her from turning on the mage at the same time. My hands rest on her shoulders and I can feel how tense she is. "Whoa, Rori, calm down. She doesn't mean it. Don't you see she just needs to blame someone? It's nothing personal."
"Oh... yes, of course. I'm sorry," Rori mutters, uneasily raking her fingers through her hair as she notices everybody is staring at her slack-jawed. "I overreacted. Sorry."
"Are you sure, you're alright?" I ask worriedly. "You seem rather... tense." That's quite an understatement. I've never seen her like that - and she's a ginger. Fits of temper come naturally to her - at least that's what Zevran says about redheads. Leliana, she's been tamed by the Chantry, but the Antivan elf is sure, the volcano inside of her is only sleeping. Well, Rori's certainly isn't sleeping anymore. It's boiling over.
"Yes, sure, I'm fine. Just a bit tired." She smiles broadly at me, then tiptoes to give me a peck to the cheek.
Frowning, I watch her, wondering what got her riled up so easily. Sure, she has an explosive temper, especially when she's tired but that was far worse than her usual grumpiness that comes with lack of sleep and lack of coffee.
She's back to being her cheerful self now, chatting amiably with Leliana. She didn't even bite my head off for being mean to Morrigan. I expected her to be mad at me for much longer, but she's been real sweet towards me. More than just sweet... almost eager... she's been all over me during our morning rituals and at night in our tent. Okay, yes, that's nothing special... joined at the hips, right? But... I don't know how to describe it... We've had a tough time ever since that incident on the ship. And Rori's been awfully thin-skinned about it... like when I asked her to improve her... err... lamppost-licking... But this morning, she just gave it a try without any awkwardness or guilt involved... It almost seemed as if she desperatedly wanted to make everything right again...
Now when I watch her, I wonder what I am worried about. I'm telling myself that she's just being herself... After some time I manage to convince myself... and my scrutiny gets distracted by her more obvious charms quickly...
How the sun makes her hair shine, it's as brilliant as a ruby... that sound of her bubbling laughter... the way she tilts her head to one side when she's teasing someone... and that beautiful smile so full of love when she looks over her shoulder and spots me... those long, slender legs... the way her hips sway...
Wynne chuckling next to me, disturbs my trail of thought. I turn and find her smiling smugly. Something is really amusing her.
"Why are you smiling like that? You look suspiciously like the cat who swallowed the pigeon," I say, frowning at her. I know that granny mage and her frail old lady act. She so can't fool me!
"Canary."
"What?"
"I look like the cat that swallowed the canary."
Oh, ah, haha. And here I am, feeling stupid again.
"I once had a very large cat," I mutter. "But that's not my point. My point is why are you smirking?"
Wynne chuckles, highly amused. I cannot get rid of the impression I am the reason for her amusement. "You were watching her. With great interest, I might add. In fact, I believe you were...enraptured."
"Rori's our leader," I mutter. I feel caught red-handed. Rori and I have been together for several months now, we've had countless moments of ultimative embarrassement and still, whenever Wynne comments on her and me... I get all flustered and nervous and my palms begin to sweat... She has become like a granny to me and the last thing I want my own granny to comment on, is my rather active love-life... "I look to her for guidance," I say firmly, hoping beyond hope that I sound convincing.
I didn't think Wynne's smirk could get even wider. She's grinning from ear to ear now. "Oh, I see. So what guidance did you find in those swaying hips hmm?"
Err...
Oh...
Blast!
"No no, I wasn't looking at...you know her...hind-quarters," I hurry to say. My voice sounds a little too high.
I so was looking at her firm little buttocks but I will never ever admit that to Wynne. Even more so when admiring Rori's lower backside involves fantasizing about her bent over my knee and my palm connecting with her soft flesh as I spank her...
Oh blast!
My ears are burning, my whole face is burning. I'm blushing so violently, my head glows like a beacon.
"Certainly."
"I gazed...glanced, in that direction, maybe, but I wasn't staring...or really seeing anything even," I stammer and squirm.
Fact is... I saw more than was there as I imagined Rori naked... and how that sweet pink slit between her legs becomes visible when she bends over...
Wynne looks at me as if she can read my very mind. As if all those sinful thoughts are visible to her...
Oh Andraste help me! A werewolf-attack would come in handy now. Or anything else distracting. I'm not picky.
"Of course." Wynne laughs and pinches my cheek.
"I hate you," I mutter gloomily. "You're a bad person."
That moment Rori comes bouncing towards me. She's as giddy as a mabari puppy and she pounces me with as much exuberance. She almost has me tumble down. Just her kisses aren't that drivelling. Clinging to me with her legs wrapped around my waist she just grabs and kisses me with overwhelming passion.
"What... what was that for?" I gasp, grinning back at her foolishly as she beams at me as if I was the center of her universe.
"Because I love you," she whispers. Another peck to my forehead and she's gone again, dancing down the path with Barkley at her heels. Every time she pirouettes she blows kisses in my direction - until she trips over a root and lands face forward in the mud.
"I'm fine," she assures me when I help her back to her feet. My reward is another deep, longing kiss.
I'm certainly not going to complain... but her behaviour is a little odd... She's like that all day long - with fits of temper in between that leave everybody speechless and puzzled. I'm worried out of my mind while I try to make sense of her. She won't give me more than lame excuses or attempts of making light of her quick changes of mood and those fits of rage that she makes up for with returning to be ravishingly charming.
Over and over again she repeats how much she loves me. Or she whispers in my ear how much she's looking forward to making love to me. She smiles whenever she looks at me, kisses me, caresses my face...
"I think you make her very happy," Wynne remarks when we take a rest on a small clearing next to a little creek. Her comment startles me as I've been worrying about my fellow Warden. Rori doesn't act like she's happy. I mean, she appears happy. But I know her too well by now. She's a cheerful little spitfire, hardly ever letting herself being weighed down for long by anything. All the things she does and did today, that's just like her... but... too much like her. Right now she's so enormously happy on the outside, it makes me wonder what she's trying to compensate.
"Not this again," I groan. "I'm ready this time."
"I just wanted to say that this was something good, for both of you. Being a Grey Warden isn't easy. I'm glad you found each other." Wynne smiles warmly at me.
"Oh, yes, I bet you are, indeed," I snort, glowering at her while I wait for the inevitable turn of this conversation, that moment when she mercilessly teases me until I blush from head to toe.
"Cherish this. It may not last." The granny mage pets the back of my hand and I draw it away quickly, expecting far worse to follow.
"And?" I ask suspiciously.
"That's all I had to say." Wynne picks up her knitting again. Seems Schmooples will get another pullover. She tried to make one for Barkley, too, until Rori pointed out he is a proud Fereldan mabari and not some Orlesian poodle.
I wait. Now, now it's going to happen... but Wynne just keeps knitting.
"Really? No pinching my cheeks? No making me blush?" Oh, come on, she has something planned, right?
"Of course not. I like you, Alistair. You deserve to be happy." A warm, grandmotherly smile is all I get.
"Not even pinching my cheeks a little?" I mutter, wondering if she's going to come back for me later with some masterplan.
Wynne just smiles and shakes her head - and then I have to go and rescue Leliana from being stomped into the ground by Rori.
"Oh stop giving me shit about that bitch Marjolaine! You've been going on about her for weeks now. Fucking get over it!" Rori shouts at a completely shocked Leliana. The poor woman is close to tears and quickly retreats when Rori throws a small pot at her. "And stop pretending you're oh so special! You're not some second Andraste, you're just a big pretender who can't accept how unimportant she is!"
"Whoa, whoa! Rori! Give it a rest!" I grab her by her shoulders and find myself face to face with a frenzied fury. She shoves me away forecfully. Usually that wouldn't make me stumble, not when I expect it. It has to be her anger that gives her enough strength to send me to the ground.
"Shut up!" she screams, her face bright red, teeth bared, sweat dripping off her forehead. "Shut up and leave me alone!" In the stunned silence that follows, with everybody staring at her in bewilderment, she bursts into tears. "Sorry," she breathes. Hugging herself, she looks so small and lost with her large blue eyes all round and fearful. Then she turns on her heels and walks of, swaying a little as if she were tipsy.
"What was that?" Leliana mutters. "Has she lost her mind completely?"
We are all used to Rori's often unexpected explosions of temper when things just get too stressful for her. But this... this was different. It was violent, aggressive, dangerous. The look on her face... as if she had been stripped of all humanity... it was scary... she was scary...
"I don't know," I say. "I'm sure, though, she didn't mean it. I will talk to her."
I pick myself off the ground to go after her. Rori sits on a flat boulder lying across the creek. She tears a blade of grass to tiny pieces, dropping them into the water. "I'm sorry," she mutters when she hears me approach. She looks so miserable, I can't be mad at her. But I'm worried and confused and afraid that I could lose her. Even more so when she hugs me tightly, clinging to me, with her face pressed against the crook of my neck.
"Hey, don't nuzzle... it tickles!" I can feel her smile against my skin. And of course she keeps nuzzling just to hear me giggle. Silly brat. "Seriously, what's wrong, Rori? And don't say 'nothing'."
"Alistair, please, I don't even know where to begin," she groans, finally letting go of me. Utterly frustrated, she pulls at her hair and kicks a small stone.
"Is... is this about us?" I croak, my voice timid and small. I like to believe that love is eternal, but life has taught me that love does have an end and it only endures as much before it is extinguished. Is that what's happening here?
"No!" she cries. "No, Alistair, please... I love you. You are such a wonderful, wonderful man..."
"But?"
"No but. There's never a 'but' with you, Alistair. You make me feel loved and wanted and protected... you make me laugh... you are... the only man I ever want to lick a lamppost with." She leans against me and I wrap my arms around her, inhaling the scent of verbena as I nuzzle the top of her head.
Oh Maker, how much I love her!
"I'm just..." She shrugs helplessly. "Oh, bloody blast it! We should go and find the Dalish and finally slay that stupid archdemon. It's about time, don't you think?"
The sun is already setting when the Dalish find us. They are for sure not too pleased to see us, considering the amount of arrows nocked and pointed in our direction. Fenarel, Rori and I step forward to meet the young blonde elf that appears to be the speaker of the group.
"Stop right there, outsider," she warns us. "The Dalish have camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere and quickly."
"And I suggest you get out of my way, and quickly," Rori snarls unexpectedly and all of a sudden, before Fenarel has a chance to explain our presence. With her eyes squinted, she glowers menacingly at the assembled elves. This is not Rori anymore... this is someone... something else...
"What the fuck?" I mutter.
"Language," Wynne replies automatically.
The shock doesn't last long. The Dalish are the first to jump back into action. And it's only due to Fenarel, Pol and Lyna that we are still alive. Without them stepping forward, we'd have so many arrows sticking out of us, we'd look like porcupines. Rather dead porcupines.
"Atisha!" Fenarel cries out when the already wary and suspicious behaviour Dalish become clearly hostile. A single arrow whirs through the air, piercing the ground right in front of Rori's feet. She growls and reaches for her swords, not caring at all for Fenarel's desperate attempt to calm down the other elves.
"Err... whoa... everybody be cool!" I shout. "You, Rori, be cool!" She's far from cool, though. She's seething and I have to tackle her to stop her from lunging herself at the Dalish woman who greeted us. "See, my hands are nowhere near my weapons..." That's because I need both my hands to drag Rori away from the front and pin her down so that she cannot do something incredibly stupid and suicidal. She kicks and snarls and bites my hand... "Good luck with the gauntlet, kitten," I pant, grunting with the effort of holding her down. In the end I only manage by putting my whole weight on her and she still tries to throw me off. "Rori, what in the name of the Maker..."
Giving up her struggle, Rori becomes very still. The anger that has driven her to start a fight with the Dalish has vanished. She just looks at me, eyes wide and round and glistening with tears. "Alistair," she says calmly, her voice hardly audible. "You have to take the lead."
"W-What?" A look in her face tells me, she's damn serious. I laugh nervously. "What? Lead? Me? No, no, no. No leading. Bad things happen when I lead. We get lost, people die, and the next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants."
At least she hasn't forgotten how to laugh. "You stranded without your pants is nothing connected to your leading abilities these days," she teases, but there's a sadness to her smile that makes me shudder. So does her kiss as warm and sweet as it is.
"Fenarel says you are Grey Wardens?" The Dalish woman doesn't sound convinced. She glares suspiciously at Rori when I pull her back to her feet and she compunctiously mutters her apologies. "He says you helped them through the forest. Therefore I will bring you to Keeper Zathrian. I advise you behave better when you meet him."
Usually that's the moment when Rori takes the lead and the rest of us follow. But now she doesn't. She just stands there and waits. The moment stretches and becomes awkward. "Err... right, let's go," I mumble and follow the Dalish with Rori trudging behind. It's impossible not to notice the silent looks shared by our companions.
"I suggest you keep your hands to yourself," the elven woman warns us. "And remember that our arrows are still trained on you."
No surprise there after Rori's amiable greeting.
"What's wrong with her?" Zevran mutters under his breath as he joins me at the front of the group. "I'd bet she was utterly sexually frustrated if I didn't know better. So, is this just the worst menstrual moodiness I've ever witnessed or did you knock her up?"
"What? No! How... I never... I did not... I can't..."
"Alistair, my dear friend, you do know where the babies come from, don't you?" Zevran asks suspiciously.
"Andraste's flaming sword! Not that again! I do know where the babies come from! Wynne already explained that to me, thank you... err... and I already knew before... Blast! Yes, I am aware that our... err... exertions... can lead to certain... circumstances... but... not with two Grey Wardens."
"Alas, whatever it is that has her riled up like this - make it stop."
"That's the plan," I mutter.
While Fenarel and his friends are welcomed with a warm meal and offered a place to rest, we are shooed to the Keeper at once. It's quite obvious they want to get rid of us again as quickly as possible. It's also quite obvious, this clan has a problem. The stench of blood and illness is so strong in some places of the camp, it's hard to ignore. So are the moans and pained cries of the injured and dying people.
"Whatever their problem is, I bet we have to solve it," Rori sighs.
"I bet you are right," I mumble. As if we didn't have our own problems. Rori for sure has one. And if she has one, so do I. I can hardly concentrate on the task at hand. One because I am worried out of my mind because of my beloved fellow Warden. Two because she pushed me to the front.
Zathrian proves to be a bald fellow - and a mage.
Hooray! Just exactly what I was looking for. More apostates! This day is getting better every minute.
Zathrian's not too fond of dogs it seems. And not too fond of us. "Who are these strangers? And a hound amongst them, as if we haven't had enough problems with such creatures! I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today."
Barkley's response is a low growl. No surprise there.
What is rather surprising is Rori growling, too. I stare at her with my jaw having dropped open, she blinks, coughs, grins sheepishly and retreats to hide behind Shale with her dog.
Holy fucking shit!
Mental note to myself: Serious talk with Rori as soon as I can catch her alone.
P.S.: Not get myself distracted by any attempts of lamppost-licking.
Thankfully Zathrian is too busy telling and showing us why it is impossible to help us with the Blight.
Rori is visibly upset at the sight of the injured elves on their makeshift cots, writhing and squirming in dreadful pain. I am visibly upset about how upset she is because... No, I don't even want to think about it. There is another explanation. There has to be another explanation. "What... what caused their illness?"
"The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimatively either death or the transformation into something monstrous," Zathrian explains solemnly.
"A werewolf?" Rori gasps, her face ashen. She's trembling, hugging herself as if she's cold, still sweat forms on her brow and she keeps wiping her forehead with her sleeve until I offer her another of my handkerchieves. I wonder what she has done with all the others I've already given her. She has to have a huge collection by now.
"Yes, that's what they become," Zathrian confirms.
"Okay, so if we find this Witherfang and bring its heart to you, then the curse will end and you will stay true to your people's promise to help us with the Blight?" I groan. I am tempted to agree with Sten: we do not need the Dalish and their trouble. I'd rather take Rori as far away from this damned forest as possible. It has an ill effect on her. But Rori - despite clearly disliking the elf - has different plans.
That much for my leadership...
"We'll help you," she says firmly with her typical determination. "Just one question... is there a protection against that curse?"
"The only protection is not to get bitten."
Now, isn't that awesome? Maybe we should send Shale to solve that problem alone? She's already muttering something under her breath about weak flesh-creatures and her own stony superiority.
"And what happens if one does get bitten?" Rori inquires. "How does one know if one is infected?"
Her question has me prick my ears.
"You will know within a few days," Zathrian informs us. "You begin to sweat and vomit and most telling your temper will become wild and uncontrollable. If that happens to you, you should seek out Witherfang even more swiftly. Your mission at that point will be rather personally."
"Indeed," Rori mutters. She looks thoughtful, chewing at her bottom lip as she strolls away with Barkley following her. She kicks every stone that gets in her way and when Wynne softly asks her if she needs to talk, she almost jumps into the granny mage's face, snapping furiously at her to fucking mind her own business.
That's it. Time to talk. Now.
No more guessing. No more denial. Just the truth... the dreadful, heartbreaking truth.
"No," I say firmly when I take Rori by her elbow to drag her along and she opens her mouth to protest.
There's a small pond close to the Dalish camp but out of earshot. That's where I take her, having her sit down while I keep standing, towering over her. I'm too nervous to sit. "Rori," I croak, trying to find the courage to ask the question I have to ask. There's a lump in my throat so huge and thick, it feels like suffocating. "Is.. have you... you've been behaving like a complete nutcase... and..."
Sighing, Rori takes pity of me and instead of forcing me to stammer and sputter for much longer, she pulls off her boot and the archdemon sock. Her foot is wrapped in a bandage clotted with dried blood. She removes it, gritting her teeth against the pain... the moment the bandage comes off, the biting marks around her ankle become visible.
"You're infected," I murmur. The shock makes my voice hollow and small. I slump down next to her, carefully brushing her damp curls from her forehead.
Strangely it's not that big a surprise - certainly a nasty one - but nothing I wouldn't have expected. Now it all makes sense. Even her asking me to lead. She must have realized at least that she is not capable of making decisions any longer. There was something looming over her ever since that night when she went after Morrigan and the werewolves attacked for the first time. She said, the werewolf's fangs hadn't pierced through her boot. She lied. She knew what was about to happen but she didn't say a word. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me?"
"This is not about trust, Alistair," she whispers as she leans against me. "I... didn't want to make you worry. I just wanted some time of happiness for us, without being constantly reminded I would turn into a monster." It's typical for her that she doesn't even waste a thought on the possibility of dying. She just decides, she won't die. Stubborn little brat. "You're probably right, though. I shouldn't have kept the truth from you. It was a selfish thing to do. I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay. I understand." No use to get mad at her now. I've seen the elves and how the curse tortures them. The realization that Rori will have to endure this torment as well, it's almost unbearable. "So, what do we do now?"
"Break the curse of course," Rori says matter-of-factly.
"That's my girl," I chuckle.
Her unyieldingness is reassuring. It's easier to make myself believe her illness can be cured when she's so fractious herself. The way she's talking about the curse, it's going to be a stroll in the park and Witherfang will present us its heart on a silver plater... still...
"But... what if we cannot break it? Or when there's no healing? What if Witherfang's death doesn't undo the transformation?" I mutter. Didn't I ask the Maker to keep her safe over and over again? Didn't I beg and make promises? Didn't I offer my own life as a sacrifice as long as he spared hers? And the people wonder why I have troubles with my faith!
"Oh, I wouldn't be too worried about that," Rori grins, pulling me close for a kiss. "Your slobbering, flying relatives from the Anderfels would be so delighted. Your mother is a bitch and your woman is a bitch, too. Oh, how proud they would be of your choice!"
"Imagine the family reunions!" I add, hugging her close to me. Oh Maker, I don't want to let go of her anymore - as if holding on to her could change anything. She's trembling and so am I. "You can all slobber together and howl at the moon. I'll scratch your bellies and throw sticks for you."
"We'd lead a dog's life!" Rori cheers.
"Don't we do that already?"
"That would be the enhanced version."
"Ah, let's not be greedy. I'm content with what we’ve got."

Notes:

When Zathrian mentioned a bite could cause this mission to become more personal, I was expecting something to happen in my first playthrough. It then seemed odd that nothing did happen. So now, here we go.
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In good times and in bad

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