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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
- 71
- 72
- 73
Check out Notevensorry's 5000th (on AO3) -hit-giveaway featuring shirtless Alistair http://41.media.tumblr.com/39384c62f870a53f05aab8f020a15f81/tumblr_nmv0yrgmzL1u5oyqao1_1280.png .
"Alistair," Rori whispers, sounding so serious it wipes the silly grin off my face at once. She takes both my hands in her sweaty palms. The moon reflects in her eyes, two dark pools of midnight blue. Maker, she's so beautiful, even more when she's sad. "Promise me you won't give up. Promise you will end this curse, no matter how difficult a task it will prove to be... and... if there is no cure..."
I take it we're done with the slobbering dog relatives.
I lay my fingers on her lips gently to stop her from finishing that sentence. I do not want to hear it. As long as it's not spoken out loud, I can pretend this is not going to happen. "I'm sure you're more capable of saving yourself than I am of rescuing you," I chuckle, although it sounds a bit forced. She has always been there for me from the beginning. Without her I'd still be standing in front of Flemeth's hut, looking foolish. She's the stronger one of the two of us. And she is my future. Without her, what is there for me to care about?
"When I transform there will be nothing left of me. I will be no more than a beast, driven by instincts."
"You do not know that..."
"I do," Rori interrupts firmly in a tone that suffocates any further discussion. Her voice is accompanied by a low growl. She immediately claps her hands over her mouth when she notices. "Shit," she gasps. "Alistair, please. I doubt I have much time left. Morrigan has potions for me that ease the symptoms, painkillers mostly, but they cannot slow down the curse. They keep me going, that's it. And I can feel the change inside of me."
"Wait! Morrigan knew about all this? You trust her more than you trust me?" I sulk. I can't help it. Part of me wants to kick my ass for those questions and still the words spill out of my mouth.
"Alistair!" Rori cries in exasperation.
I offer a foolish lopsided grin and a shrug. "Fine, I promise... no, I swear I will end this curse," I sigh when Rori keeps scowling at me.
"You could at least try to sound a little more confident, couldn't you?" Rori grins, leaning in to steal a kiss from my lips. It's just a soft caress but I have no intention to let her get away like that. Not when it could be the last time I get to hold her, to love her. Sure, every moment could be the last. But to witness my beautiful beloved ginger go to the dogs…literally... Oh Maker, I have to hold her, feel her...
"Alistair," she gasps when I pull her flush against my chest. "I could... I don't want to hurt you..." The rest of her protest is muffled by my kiss. One moment I have my tongue stroking hers and it's all gentle and sweet with a slowly growing passion... next I'm on my back with her on top and my shirt is... gone. I doubt even Wynne can mend it anymore. Rori practically shreds it. I'm still gawking and gasping while she tears at the breeches of my pants. Her bosom is heaving magnificently indeed, there's a wild and feral expression on her face and her eyes... her eyes are... glowing softly... oh, whoa... I very much doubt that's the light of purity Oghren mentioned... it's more... creepy... and she is... growling lowly in her throat...
"Ro-rori!?" I squeak, laughing nervously as I squirm beneath her. Quickly I catch her wrists, just in case... although I'm so not sure I could win against her right now. "Your... err... your eyes..."
She glowers at me for a moment with her glowing eyes, her expression is so alien and feral, it's not exactly bound to calm me down. I am close to freaking out and throw her off when she snaps out of her monster mode and blinks at me in confusion. "What?"
"Err... nothing..." I manage a smile... and wish I hadn't even tried as it turns out nothing but fake. "Maybe we should just go to bed and... do you want some hot milk? I love hot milk with honey when I can't sleep. I could get you some..." I babble, as I carefully lift her off me. Oh Maker, she looks hurt. I do feel sorry. This is not her fault... and she warned me... I do love her. Really! But... well, when your woman begins to bark and growl and act like a huge dog... even Zevran wouldn't go for this... well, perhaps he would...
"I think I should put up my tent." That's all Rori says. She looks so sad and lonely when she picks herself up from the ground, it makes my heart bleed.
"No, Rori, that's... not necessary." I try to take her hand but she pulls away, her expression pained and frightened.
"Oh, come on, Alistair! The way you just looked at me... you were scared, terrified..."
"Your eyes glowed," I protest. "You growled and... were behaving like... a huge dog."
"That's what I am... kinda," Rori whispers, hugging herself. She stands all alone in the darkness, lost in a wilderness that is threatening to swallow her...
She is dangerous. She could drag me down with her. She could kill me.
Oh, bloody blast it!
She's my woman!
I just have to hug her. How can I not stand beside her? She would never let me down. She wouldn't even consider it. Not for a single moment. All this talking about love and devotion, what's it worth when my actions don't stay true to my words?
I pull her against me and this time Rori doesn't push me away. She just melts into my embrace, her face buried at my chest as she cries; her sobs making her shoulders tremble. I stroke her hair, mumble sweet nonsense that we both know not to be true and finally pick her up to carry her to our tent and tuck her into bed next to me. I hold her in my arms until she dozes off. Her sleep is uneasy and troubled, by her nightmares and the curse that burns inside of her. She writhes in pain, whines and whimpers like an injured dog. It's almost more than I can endure to see her like that. I feel so useless and helpless...
Andraste's flaming sword! Listen to me! I am whining about how hard this is for me when she is the one suffering! How pathetic is that? Maybe I should stick to Oghren's advice and drink more wine to make me whine less.
I try to pray to the Maker but all I can come up with is: Why?
Rori has been in my prayers forever. Hasn't He been listening? Was begging Him to keep her safe too much? I am downright angry with Him at that moment, feeling guilty at the same time for my blasphemous thoughts.
Blast it! I toss and turn more than Rori does and there's no way, sleep is going to come for me anytime soon. For now I do need some fresh air to clear my mind. I feel bad for leaving Rori alone but at least her faithful mabari watches over her.
The camp is fast asleep but for the guards on their watch - and Shale of course. The groans of the dying Dalish soldiers, all infected with the same curse as Rori, chill me to the bone. So do the distant howls of wolves, echoing through the night.
I find Fenarel sitting at one of the campfires with his shoulders slumped and his head hung low. He looks like a broken man the way he stares into the flames, his expression blank and oh so tired. Pol is seated across of him, hiding in the shadows. He is rocking to and fro as he cries silently.
"Nine months," Fenarel croaks when he gets aware of me standing there and gawking foolishly while I try to decide if I should offer some comfort. "For nine months Lyna fought the taint. She refused to die. She said she would find a cure. When anybody else had given up, Lyna still insisted she would live. She was too stubborn to die." He swallows hard when his voice threatens to break from the grief that shakes his slim frame. "We came here with her because... because she hoped..." He inhales deeply, trying to stop the tears from flowing, but fails. "There was no cure to be found for her. There was never a chance. She fought so bravely and in the end, she still died."
I don't know what to say. I'm incredibly bad at finding the right words for comfort. All I can think about is how much Lyna reminds me of Rori. That stubbornness, combined with determination and an inner strength that one would never expect in such a small and delicate woman. They both have... had... that fire burning inside of them. Now one of them is dead and the other one is infected with a deadly curse.
Rori refuses to accept that the curse could kill her. Sure, she has survived the Joining, but this is something different. In case she doesn't die, she'll become a monster, a wild uncontrollable beast driven by nothing but instinct. She will not be able to distinguish between friend and foe...
Oh merciful Andraste, what am I going to do?
How could I even leave her alone for that short a time when time is something she is running out of?
My feet carry me back to our tent. I run as if my life depended on it, as if every second wasted was of vital importance. When I burst into our tent, I find Rori tossing and turning in her sleep. She's soaked in sweat and still shivering. Her whimpering is so heart breaking, Barkley whines with her, his huge head resting on his paws when he doesn't lick the sweat from her brow. I lay down next to her, pulling her against me. It's far from comfortable but I couldn't care less. She breathes my name over and over again as if it was an incantation while I cry with my face buried in her damp hair. Guilt and fear tear me apart. If I hadn't been mean to Morrigan, she wouldn't have ran away and Rori would not have been out there in the forest unarmed and unprotected when the werewolves attacked.
Oh Maker have mercy!
There has to be more I can do for her than just hold her when she's in pain. There has to be a way... Maybe I should stop feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I should stop crying when crying won't change anything. Maybe I for once should stand up and just do what has to be done. It's like Rori used to say, you cannot rely on anybody but yourself to make things right. She taught me to finally make my own decisions and stand up for myself. That probably means I can't stand there like a toddler, wail and look... cute... until someone comes running to make things right.
Oh, bloody blast it! I should at least give it a try - for Rori's sake.
The next morning starts with Rori being violently sick inside of our tent. And right in front of it once she manages to crawl that far on hands and knees. To say she's in a bad mood is quite an understatement. She hisses, snaps, growls and snarls at everybody daring to cross her path, even after Morrigan's brews brought her back to her feet. Despite the condition she's in, Rori has us all in a hurry, us being Morrigan, Oghren, Zevran, Shale and I. And Barkley of course. She has me tell the others to stay behind at the Dalish camp, leaving it to me to make up excuses for excluding Leliana, Sten and Wynne from the mission. Rori is quite clear about it...
"Last thing I fucking need now is a bunch of religious fanatics, notorious do-gooders and smartass weirdos with a questionable philosophy giving me shit."
... but I doubt it's wise to give that explanation to the bard, the granny mage and the Qunari. It's as awesome a task as being made the message boy by the Revered Mother ages ago in Ostagar.
"Oh, don't bother. Just tell them they stay behind. End of discussion," Rori growls, before turning to the companions she has chosen to accompany her. "I'm infected. You cannot handle that, get lost," she barks. "Being nice and understanding is not on my fucking agenda today - or any other day. You can't cope with this, leave. I got no fucking time to waste on you behaving like bloody mimosas." She already starts marching off into the forest as she talks, expecting us to follow. She really doesn't dawdle. Obediently we all trudge behind. If we had tails we'd all tuck them between our legs now. "The mission is to end that blasted curse. Should I change into a werewolf before it is completed, Alistair will take the lead. You got a problem with that, fuck off now."
"Ahh, she makes me all randy when she's like that," Oghren groans, stuffing his hand into his pants and adjusting... all those... things there.
Ewww!
"Reminds you of your wife, doesn't she, my sturdy little friend?" Zevran chuckles.
"Aye," Oghren leers, smacking his lips. He is so busy ogling Rori's hind quarters, he keeps toppling over roots and rocks.
I clear my throat to get their attention. "You are talking about my woman, you know?"
"More like your bitch," the dwarf snickers.
"Doing it doggy-style gets a whole new meaning now, doesn't it, Alistair, my dear friend?" Zevran chuckles and nudges my rips.
“Could you two please stop that? That's... private," I mutter all flustered. My ears are glowing pink.
"Oh, don't worry, son! We're going to help that lame dog over the stile." Oghren grunts, patting my back. He has learnt by now to reach up as high as possible. When he began travelling with us, being used to dwarven heights, he used to accidentally smack Zevran's or my hindquarters. Thankfully he quickly adjusted to us being taller than dwarves. He hasn't yet come to adjust to the ladies' heights, though...
"Yes, she does hold the wolf by the ears but I would say there's more than a dog's chance for her," Zevran adds, grinning broadly. "She has always been rather dogged."
"You know the old saying: There's life in the old dog yet," Oghren comments cheerfully.
"Next to make a smart comment including dogs, hounds, puppies or wolves, I will stick the dog on!" Rori barks from the front of our single file row.
"Is she talking about the mabari or herself?" Zevran asks nervously.
"Do you really want to find out?" I mutter.
There are no paths leading through the old-growth forest. Trees lie as they have fallen, covered with moss and fungi. We have left the horses back at the Dalish camp, travelling on foot proves faster in this wild environment.
First Rori seems fine. We move as quickly as possible, run into some werewolves, but none of them being a white one, and she handles herself well in battle. Around midday, however Rori stumbles more than she walks. She claims she needs no rest but the way she winces or leans against tree trunks, it's quite obvious she is in pain. Her temper is explosive and only held at bay by her deteriorating condition. In the afternoon she has trouble staying on her feet and every now and then she just topples over, vomiting violently. The fits don't even stop when there's nothing left for her to get rid of.
"I need another potion," Rori croaks, wiping her mouth clean. She's crouching on the ground, unable to get back to her feet. I attempt to give her a hand but she slaps it away, snarling at me. She's a complete mess, eyes bloodshot, damp hair glued to her forehead.
"You can only have the next one in two hours," Morrigan informs her calmly. All day long everybody at some point expressed their sympathy for Rori - not that she took our support kindly. She threw a badly aimed stone at Oghren, kicked Zevran's shin, punched Shale in the chest - which left her with bleeding knuckles -, cursed at me, and shouted at Barkley... well, you get the impression. Morrigan stayed cool and distant as if she didn't care at all.
"No! I need it now!" Rori screams, pulling herself up right by clinging to a nearby tree. Foam's forming in front of her mouth as if she was rabid.
"It would kill you," Morrigan replies.
The words have hardly left her mouth when Rori throws herself at the witch, screaming bloody murder. I try to yank her back but she just drags me along as if I was a ragdoll. Zevran clings to her left arm, Oghren to her legs; I dangle from her right arm... Barkley jumps around us, barking loudly in his confusion as what to make of this situation. Howling madly, Rori fights against us like a berserk, shaking us off one after another. If not for Shale, I do not know if we had managed to stop Rori from tearing the witch to pieces. The golem just grabs her by her collar and lifts her off the ground. Dangling there in the golem's grip, she hisses and spits, curses and screams, kicks and squirms until she's so spent, she's close to fainting.
Unfortunately for her she does not faint. So for the next ten minutes we listen to her screaming in agony. That's when I've had enough. It's more than I can endure to see her suffer like that.
"Maker, just give her that potion!" I shout at Morrigan. I'm close to tears myself.
"Didn't you listen? It would kill her."
"But there has to be something we can do!" Now I am crying, and - blast it! - I really don't care what anybody thinks about me.
"We could knock her out," Zevran suggests. And that's just what we do. Well, the elf does it with one swift blow to the side of her neck.
We set up camp close to a small brook. We've not brought any tents so it's just us, our bedrolls and a campfire. I go to fetch water to at least wipe Rori's face clean and cool her heated skin. Upon returning I find Zevran tying her ankles and wrists.
"What in the name of the Maker do you think you're doing?" I bellow at him. He holds up his hands in defence when I am about to throw the pot at him I used to fetch the water.
"Alistair, my friend, Rori is a danger to us and to herself. She is uncontrollable and we have to take precautions for when she will turn."
"And you think those bonds will stop her?" Oghren grunts.
"No, my sturdy little friend, but they might buy us some time."
"The first Grey Warden is very ill. Shouldn't she return to the camp? The elderly mage could take care of her," Shale wonders. Rori is the one and only of all of us who the golem does not refer to as 'it'.
"And leave her with those pathetic elves?" Morrigan snorts as she instils the potion Rori has been asking for into her by carefully lifting her head and holding the vial to her lips.
"Zathrian would kill her as soon as she changes," I protest. I do not want to leave her alone or waste any moment without her - although she's being a pest and I have to watch her fading away. "Didn't you hear what he said about killing his own people before they turned into something monstrous? What does he care about Rori?"
"There's something rotten about this curse," Zevran adds thoughtfully. "I cannot say what it is, but something about Zathrian is fishy. I've talked to a man whose wife got infected. Zathrian claimed she died but wouldn't let him see her corpse. It doesn't make any sense. And this curse..." The elf shakes his head. "I can't get rid of the feeling Zathrian doesn't tell us the whole truth."
"If we keep her around, what do we do when the gal changes?" Oghren asks, turning to me. "You're the boss, that's what she said. So, boss, how do we make sure she doesn't tear us all apart?"
That is a mighty good question.
And I so do not want to hear it.
Because I really do not know the answer.
How do we stop the beast she will become without killing her and without risking our own lives? Can we break the curse before Rori's transformation? How much time does she have left?
Oh Maker!
"Are you saying we should kill her?" I snap at the dwarf.
"Alistair, my dear friend, Rori chose us to follow her for a reason. Because she knows, we will try anything to keep her alive," Zevran says soothingly. "Kind of a plan how to avoid killing her would be helpful, though."
"Break that curse before she changes?" I suggest tiredly. "Or go to the dogs while trying?"
I don't have a plan. I don't even know where to start looking for Witherfang. This forest is huge and we have not met any white wolves yet. I need someone to tell me what to do but there is nobody there and Rori relies on me...
I know Rori has been in situations like this. When she had us all search for Branka or when she decided to save Connor with the help of the mages. Also when we set out to find the urn of the sacred ashes...
I slump down next to Rori and brush her damp hair from her forehead. She opens her eyes, two dark and hazy orbs, the pupils dilated, and smiles sadly at me.
"You're awake," I gasp, hurrying to untie the bonds around her wrists. "Do you need something? Water? Food? How do you feel?"
She pulls her hands away from me, stopping my attempt to free her. "Zev's right," she whispers hoarsely. "Those ropes won't stop me but they will buy you time."
"You heard us," I breathe, helping her to sit up as it doesn't prove easy to do so with her hands tied together. I can't stand seeing her like that. It tears me apart inside. Probably better, though, than being torn apart from the outside... She's much calmer now she has gotten her next shot but Morrigan warned us the periods will get shorter and shorter. For that very brief moment when she neither curses nor sweats nor vomits her guts out... I can hold her and try to pretend everything's going to be alright. I fail miserably, though. And instead of supporting her, I am bawling my eyes out about how horrible it is to watch her suffer - and she is comforting me.
Maker, I am such a loser!
"Oh, Rori... what should I do? I cannot lose you... Blast! Look at me... what a mess... I am so sorry... I should be strong for you... but I am so afraid of losing you..."
And she of course is not afraid at all! She's only about to either die or turn into a blasted werewolf... so sure, keep wailing and tell her how tough this is for you!
Awesome, Alistair, truly awesome!
You're her hero!
Rori makes it even worse by gently kissing my tears away. I almost wish the effect of her potion would fade as she would bark at me then and call me a whining sissy and a complete failure. She’s got a point there if you ask my opinion.
Blast it!
Angrily I wipe my nose at my sleeve, causing Rori to laugh.
"Hey, I got a handkerchief in my pocket. Feel free to use it. It's one of yours anyway."
"You are such a brave woman," I mutter after having fished the handkerchief from her pocket. It is indeed one of mine.
"I am not. Right now I am so high on whatever it is Morrigan mixes for me, I don't care about anything at all. But when the effect of the drug wears off..." She shrugs casually. "These are the only clear moments I have left. And they become less. Everything else is just... like wading through a red fog of fury and hatred... I am dangerous. I could kill all of you or doom you to endure the same fate. Yet here you are, being brave. And hey, it's nice to know you'd be missing me if I was gone. Makes me feel loved." She pauses and I can almost feel the change of her mood, the way her body tenses and her expression tightens. "Now stop bawling, you cry baby. That fucking curse won't break itself."
The effect of the drug is already fading. I still stay with her that night and hold her. I will not leave her alone in her misery. I am here for her, no matter how much she snarls and bitches and threatens me...
Barking dogs never bite.
Right?
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In good times and in bad