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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
- 72
- 73
- 74
@discord_the_lunatic: Aww, thank you. I am relieved bitten Rori gets so much positive reviews (here and on AO3). And of course I would love more lovely reviews from you, but I humbly take what I get ;) Glad you enjoy reading this story.
@Notevensorry: You are too sweet! Ty and thanks even more for your wonderful art. Here's another fix of Alistair. ;)
Next to our makeshift camp, a waterfall thunders down a cliff. In the bright morning light, little rainbows stretch across the water. The birds sing, a soft breeze rustles the leaves of the trees... It is so beautiful and peaceful - and thus a stark contrast to Rori's miserable form crouching on one of the boulders near the water. She's deadly pale with bright reddish blotches on her cheeks, her eyes feverish and hazy. Angrily she tears a blade of grass to tiny pieces. It's incredible how she endures and never complains about her fate but moves on with determination.
"You are so brave. I am proud of you," I say in a low, calm voice once I'm done shaving. Considering Rori's condition I think it wise to not let her get hold of a razor. I wish I could hug her but touching her has become very unwise as well. So I just sit down a few feet away from her, avoiding quick movements or smiling at her broadly. Showing all your teeth to a woman who has developed a whole lot of canine habits is not a bright idea.
"There's nothing brave about me, nothing to be proud of," she snaps, furiously wiping the sweat of her brow. "If I was brave, I'd walk into that forest alone and face my fate. But here I am dragging you all along, endangering you to suffer the same. I am no more than a selfish coward."
"Don't say that...," I protest but she won't let me argue with her.
"Why not?" Rori says forcefully with tears welling up in her eyes and her fists clenched at her sides. "It's true... I'm terrified of dying, terrified of what I am about to become. I do not want to lose you..." Her voice trails off and is replaced by a low growl. Lifting her head as if she was alarmed, Rori slips from the rock and reaches for her weapons. Barkley begins to bark at the same time, snarling at three figures, having appeared on a flat broad rock in the middle of the creek half hidden by the mist of spraying water.
Werewolves. One of them a great white one.
Finally.
"Why don't they attack?" Zevran asks, frowning into the direction of the beasts. "All the others attacked on sight. These look as if they are... waiting for us."
We all gather at the shore, looking across the water at the assembled beasts. They still do not make any attempt to attack us, although their body language tells how tense they are.
I would have never thought being forced to sleep in the kennels with the dogs for years, whenever Eamon visited Denerim, would come in handy some day. You cannot spend that much time around dogs without learning some things about them.
"Shall I crush their heads?" Shale asks gloomily, punching her palm with her fist repeatedly.
"Their behaviour is strange," Morrigan agrees with the elf. As a shape shifter she knows a lot about the body language and behaviour of animals. At least that's what Rori told me. My conversations with the witch never run that deep as to truly exchange information apart from her reminding me what a fool I am. "What does our new leader intend to do now?"
"I intend to send the witch over the bridge first and see if the wolves bite her head off," I reply and get rewarded with a disgusted noise.
"I could go," Rori suggests. She has only taken her potion a short while ago and is already trembling with the effort to stay on her feet. "They can't infect me twice, right?"
When I look across the water, the white wolf inclines its head, a gesture so human, it makes me shudder. It's so easy to forget those beasts have once been humans when there is nothing human left in their appearance and - usually - their behaviour.
It's time for a decision.
"Keep your weapons sheathed, stay behind," I order, holding out a hand to my companions to have them keep their distance.
"Alistair, my dear friend, do you really think this is a good idea?" Zevran squeaks as his attempts of nonchalance for once fail completely.
"I know what I am doing," I assure him.
"Twould be a premier," Morrigan mutters.
On slowly approaching the werewolves, I make sure I don't look them right in the eyes as not to give them any reason for attacking me when I clearly trespass their territory. I stop just out of their reach.
"Err... hello?" I say as calmly, lowly and firmly as possible. It doesn't sound very convincing. With much effort I refrain from offering a foolish grin and thus showing too much teeth.
The white wolf, obviously the alpha, cocks its head to one side as it scrutinizes me. I begin to sweat.
"Hrrr... the watch-wolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters," the white werewolf growls in a guttural voice. The sound makes me jump and for a moment I forget that one doesn't look an aggressive dog straight in the eyes.
"Wh..what?" Rori gasps behind me and next she's standing in that space between her human companions and the werewolves.
The werewolf ignores her, having identified me as the alpha of the - mostly - human group. That's somewhat... unexpected. I mean, me being seen as the leader of... anything. Usually people don't even trust me to lead myself. "The Dalish send a human, of all things, to repay us for our attack, to put us in our place." The huge beast snorts. "What bitter irony."
"Wait!" Rori breathes, taking another step closer. I am tempted to yank her back and only refrain because I fear the sudden movement could cause the werewolves to attack. "You... you speak!? I... I thought werewolves were savage beasts?"
The white wolf, Swiftrunner, as he calls himself, finally cares to take notice of her. "We are beasts but we are no longer simple and mindless, let that thought chill your spine."
Rori doesn't look chilled in any way, actually for the first time in days there's a glint of hope in her eyes. She almost seems giddy, even smiles at me and for a moment no longer than a heartbeat, she's just Rori again.
"Do all werewolves have this ability?" she asks excitedly, hopefully... but gets cut short by the werewolf who seems confused by having to talk to a minor member of my... err... pack.
"We will not talk to any minions of the Dalish," he snarls at her.
"We are no servants of the Dalish," I say calmly.
First place we are trying to help Rori... and make the Dalish stay true to the promise they gave by signing that treaty. I have to remind myself that ending the Blight is what I am here for. Rori's condition shouldn't have any influence on my decisions... and yet... I am not going to sacrifice her! Oh Maker, now I get what Wynne and Morrigan were hinting at... a decision I could have to make... a decision I am not prepared for...
Rori has never let one of her companions down. And none of them ever wasted a single thought about being selfish. Not Morrigan when she asked Rori to help her slay her mother, the infamous Flemeth. Not Leliana when she dragged Rori along to solve her Marjolaine problem. Not Shale when she expected Rori to walk yet deeper into the Deep Roads to find out more about her past. Not I when she went to fight a whole tower crammed with abominations, bloodmages and demons to save a boy that means nothing to her but so much to me.
"Do you take us for fools," the white werewolf growls. "We know you come from their camp. No doubt the old keeper himself sent you."
Can't deny that, can I? I am tempted to tell Swiftrunner about Rori's infection and ask him for help. However, we do not know enough of him or his motives and our desperate search for a cure could make us the perfect puppets for any manipulative attempt.
"Why do you hate the Dalish so much?" I ask carefully.
"You know nothing, do you?" Swiftrunner barks with contempt. "Nothing of us and even less about those you serve. You are a fool and we are done talking. Run from the forest while you can. Run to the Dalish and tell them they are doomed."
Oh, wow, he's quite dramatic, isn't he?
"We can agree on the part with the fool," I say, biting my lips as not to grin stupidly. The next words I choose carefully. If killing Witherfang is the only way to break this curse, then I will gladly complete this mission like Zathrian told us. That means a confrontation with the other werewolves couldn't be avoided. Right now, however... Zevran said there was something rotten about the keeper's story... I believe he is right; there is indeed something awfully wrong here. Talking werewolves? Who has ever heard of that? It's something to take into consideration, isn't it? Just bashing in their heads now seems... quite a foolish thing to do. If I take the wrong path I could lose Rori forever... "The rest... sorry, no way. I do not wish to fight but neither can I retreat."
"I do not wish to fight you either," Swiftrunner growls - it's a rather unexpected reply, considering he's a werewolf. "But we cannot trust you. Come, brothers and sisters, let us retreat. The forest has eyes of its own, and it will deal with intruders as it always has."
As soon as the werewolves disappear between the trees, Barkley announces the approach of yet another group. With him wagging his tail and bouncing around giddily, it's not that big a surprise to see Wynne, Sten and Leliana arrive only a minute later. Barkley pounces the Qunari, greeting him with the exuberance of a dog expecting a treat. Rori isn't as delighted. Out of the corner of my eyes I notice her retreat to stand behind Shale.
"We finally found you," Wynne greets us. She's visibly relieved, as if she was afraid she wouldn’t find us at all or... I don't know... dead? "Where is Rori?"
"I thought, Rori explicitly told you to stay back in the Dalish Camp," I say, ignoring her question as I am not sure what to make of this situation. Rori is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Morrigan.
"Alistair, she might have fooled you about her illness but the symptoms were not to be mistaken for anything but the infection caused by the bite of a werewolf," Wynne informs me in the soothing and educational tone adults use when explaining unpleasant things to small children. She even takes my hands in hers and gives them a sympathetic squeeze.
"What are you doing here?" I demand to know. I'm not sure why, but I am beginning to get rather angry. Sten is craning his neck, looking around for Rori. Just she's not there.
"We came to warn you, of course," Wynne lectures me. "Rori is ill, terribly ill. She will either die or turn into a werewolf. You are aware of that, aren't you, Alistair?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then you do know what you have to do?"
"Pardon?"
"Alistair, you and Rori are the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. You have a responsibility that comes with being a Grey Warden. It is your duty to protect and serve the people and thus you might be forced to make a sacrifice..."
"Well, Rori is not here," I snap, cutting Wynne short before she can leap into another endless monologue. Usually Rori is the recipient of those lectures. Now she is gone - and Maker, I do hope she stays away! - Wynne only has me left to concentrate on. It's not that I didn't have the same thoughts already - and felt like a complete prick even thinking about that possibility - but it is quite a difference if it's me and my own conscience or if someone is trying to push me into a direction. There was a time when I'd have just nodded and obediently done like I was told, no matter how much it hurt me. I have to admit, it used to be easier that way - but it made me terribly unhappy. I do not want to be unhappy and as Rori is the main reason for my happiness, I will not give her up easily. "She left... just wasn't there anymore when we woke this morning," I lie, hoping that my bright red ears won't give me away. Wynne mistakes me avoiding looking her in the eyes as a sign of sadness and I find myself hugged to her grandmotherly bosom... err... help? Someone, please?
"I saw the first Grey Warden disappear between the trees in the middle of the night," Shale drones. She, of course, doesn't blush. "I thought, it would release some of its smelly liquids and then return. But it never came back."
"Oh, I am sorry, Alistair," Wynne sighs, finally releasing me. "But it's better this way, believe me. Let us hope that she dies a quick death. It would be a mercy. She doesn't deserve to suffer. I so wish we could have done something for her."
Hello?! Rori isn't dead yet!
"I will pray for her," Leliana says solemnly. "Rori is not a religious person, but I will ask the Maker to look over her nonetheless. She will need all the divine support she can get. I can't believe she is gone." The bard dries the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. "Perhaps when we break that curse... her fate is in the hands of the Maker now."
Thankfully it's more likely in Rori's own hands. She won't sit down and rely on the Maker - or anybody else.
"Where is the witch?" Sten asks as grumpily as always.
"Morrigan left, too, after getting into a fight with Alistair," Zevran lies smoothly. No blushing there. I am actually the only one with a face as red as a tomato.
"She's no loss," the Qunari grunts. "Let's go and find this Witherfang." He marches off into the direction where Swiftrunner disappeared, obviously expecting us to follow his lead.
I begin to understand why Rori left those three behind.
I clear my throat loud enough to catch the Qunari's attention. "Excuse me, please, but I am the leader of this group."
I cannot allow Sten to take the lead - he is likely to murder Rori on first sight because of his so called honour. I don't say it wouldn't hurt him. He has come to like Rori. But I have absolutely no doubt, Sten would sacrifice her without a second thought if he believed it necessary to complete his mission.
"What makes you think so?" Sten challengingly approaches me to tower over me. I've seen him challenge Rori the same way before. She never backed down and neither will I.
"Well, I am the only Grey Warden left...," I stammer, wincing when Sten scrutinizes me with a look that tells me he doubts I could take a walk in the park without getting lost. "And... this is my mission, my responsibility. So, we are going to do this my way."
"Alistair, my dear boy, are you sure you can do this?" Wynne backstabs me with grandmotherly concern. "You could be forced to fight against your beloved if she turned. Witherfang is the leader of the werewolves. She would protect him as do the others, should she become one of them."
"I have a templar's training," I snarl rather unnerved. "I don't see that there's much of a difference between a templar's readiness to slay any mage that has turned into an abomination and this situation here. I can very well exercise my duties." That is another blunt lie. I am utterly terrified of the scenario Wynne describes. All I can do is hope that it will never happen.
"Ah. Yep. Lot of tension around here," Oghren mutters next to me as we move on. Sten has decided not to stomp me into the ground for now. He probably only waits for my first major failure in leadership, but for now I am in charge.
"You think so, do you?" I sigh while I keep looking around for any sign of Rori or Morrigan. Barkley has disappeared, too. Maker, I do hope Rori is alright - as alright as she can be when she's about to turn into a werewolf anytime soon. If she became like Swiftrunner... she would be able to keep control over herself, wouldn't she?
"Know what I do to relieve tension?" Oghren goes on when I already thought my obvious disinterest would shut him up.
"I hesitate to wonder."
"I polish the ol' weapon," Oghren explains enthusiastically and not at all discouraged by my taciturn manners.
"Really."
"Yep. Give it a good shine. With a dry rag, then with a little grease."
Grease? Polish? The old weapon? Give it a shine? Oh no! No! No! The last thing I want to hear about now is Oghren and his... old weapon. "That's disgusting."
"You're telling me you never gave yer blade the old spit-shine?"
"I think that's private," I mumble all flustered and utterly embarrassed. The images popping up in my mind... all those nights in the Chantry when I lay alone in my bed, hardly daring to move and afraid anybody could identify the treacherous noises as what they were... that one time when Rori touched herself for me to watch... and I was beating my meat right in front of her... It seems ages ago... in times happier than they are now... Maker's Breath, how I miss her!
And no! I don't miss her only because of all the... lamppost-licking and weapon-polishing! I mean... I do miss that, too... but that's not the reason... oh, blast! Let's just say I miss her like crazy... for everything she is... was... whatever...
"Really? Sodding Chantry and its rules. I like to do it right out in the open," the dwarf grunts.
"Where people can see you?" I squeak in mere disbelief. This dwarf is so... he's so... ewww... now my treacherous mind is showing me Oghren unpacking his... old weapon... and... No! Stop! Stop! Things I so do not want to imagine!
"Yep." Oghren says matter-of-factly and pats the hilt of his axe before running his fingers carefully across the blade.
Err...
One moment...
"Wait, what are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about?" Oghren retorts, arching his bushy eyebrows at me.
"Never mind," I sigh. There are enough trees around here. I only refrain from banging my head against one because I believe it could damage my reputation as a leader.
For the rest of the day we keep searching for the werewolves but all we come across are some darkspawn, one rhyming oak, many hopping mad trees, the camp of a murderous spirit... really nothing out of the ordinary. At least I'm kept so busy, I don't have much time to worry about Rori.
In the middle of the night I wake from Barkley nudging me and drooling all over my face.
"Ew! Get away from me you flea-infested furball!" I try to shove him back but he won't back off. He whines and whimpers so heartbreakingly that I finally sit up, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I'm still half asleep. "Can't you pester Rori? You're her mabari... err... where is she?" Now I'm wide awake. It's as if someone has emptied a bucket of icy water over my head when the memory returns to me. Rori has disappeared into the forest this morning... and Barkley with her... The dog begins to pull at my shirt. "You... want me to follow you?"
Barkley cocks his head to one side, looking at me as if he thought me to be a complete retard.
Shortly later I stumble after the mabari through the dark forest, trying to keep up with him. When I finally arrive at the entrance of a cave half hidden by the roots of ancient trees, I am soaked with sweat and panting heavily.
Morrigan awaits me, the light radiating off her staff pours its ghostly light over her tired face. "She wants to see you," the witch greets me, and then disappears inside the cave, expecting me to follow.
Rori is crouched on the ground at the far end of the narrow cave. She rocks too and fro, hugging herself. Her teeth are bared, eyes wide and terrified. Forgetting all caution, I hurry to embrace her - and she lunges at me, snapping her teeth at me as she goes for my throat.
I let myself fall backwards and crawl away from her as she retreats to her corner, whimpering lowly.
"Ro-rori?" I ask timidly. It's heart breaking to see her like that. I thought I'd be used to her suffering by now, that it couldn't get much worse. Boy was I wrong. I will never get used to her agony.
"I'm... I'm sorry," Rori mutters, reaching out to me, then retreats as if she burnt her hand. Sweat is pouring down her face, her hair is damp. Then she topples over, falling down to her knees as she is violently sick. When I attempt to help her, she weakly swats at my hand, shooing me away. The way her body spasms, that tormented sound of convulsion coming from her throat, it's as if she was turned inside out. Panting and whimpering, she collapses on the ground right next to her own vomit. With much effort she rolls around so that she can look at me. "I love you," she whispers, then another seizure shakes her delicate frame. I kneel beside her to take her hand. This time she doesn't pull away.
"I love you, too." My voice doesn't sound like my own. It's choked by my effort to hold back my tears. I do not want her to see me cry.
"I'd step back if I were you," Morrigan says from behind. "It's time."
"Time? What time?" I croak stupidly.
"The transformation cannot be stopped any longer."
"The trans... oh Maker!" I do not want to let go of Rori's hand but when the next seizure shakes her, she almost breaks my hand, squeezing it with a strength that is beyond human.
"Here, this will ease the pain." The witch holds a vial to Rori's lips, helping her drink. Then she quickly steps back and summons a transparent, lightly shining wall to form around Rori, much like the prison Cullen was caught in.
After that all we can do, is watch.
Somehow I imagined the transformation would be somewhat like Morrigan's shape shifting. Some lurid light, some white fog, the crackling of magic at work and Poof! When the fog clears there's an animal where the witch stood before.
Well, the transformation is nothing like that. It is... terrible.
Rori writhes on the ground, her whole body spasms violently, and even over her screams I can hear the sound of breaking bones and torn skin. Splatters of blood hit me in the face when her skull, arms, legs... everything is deformed, shaped into something monstrous. It doesn't take long but to me it seems an eternity. I'm on my knees, crying. Someone shouts at Morrigan to fucking dim her light... guess, that's me. Finally Rori's screams stop as she loses consciousness.
Where my beloved woman has been, there now lies a beast covered in red fur the same colour as her hair used to be.
I do understand now why Zathrian would rather kill his people than to make them endure this torture. But Rori survived and when - after some hours - she begins to move again and turns her dark blue eyes on me and Morrigan, there's recognition there next to confusion and fear.
I kneel down, turning my face to the side as to avoid looking her straight in the eyes, then I begin to talk to her. It's not easy to make my voice sound calm, when sobs still threaten to shake me whenever I look at her. Hard to keep it low, when all I want to do is scream. Almost impossible to sound firm when I've never felt weaker before. I give it a try anyway... and slowly the werewolf crawls closer, whining lowly as she watches us carefully.
I keep talking to her. "Good girl, Rori, yes, don't be afraid of us. We do not mean to harm you. Yeah, you're such a beautiful girl, such a good girl..."
"Alistair," the beast growls - and I swear she pouts. It looks extremely creepy, though. "Stop talking to me as if I was a dog!"
"Err... but you are...," I stammer, all flustered. Her voice sounds alien, guttural, and still I can hear it's Rori. "Uhm, sorry... but you are a... werewolf."
"I am, ain't I?" Rori gasps as she examines her paws. All of a sudden she begins to yelp short barks. It takes me a while to realize, she is laughing... laughing so hard actually that she rolls around on the ground.
"What is so funny?"
"The Couslands have... they are...," Rori barks in between her fits of laughter. "The Couslands became teyrns for their victory over the werewolves... now the last of the Couslands has turned into a werewolf... you have to admit, that's quite ironic!"
"At least you can see the funny side of it," Morrigan remarks. She drops her spell and the werewolf approaches us slowly on all fours. She sniffs at me and it takes me all the willpower I can find inside of me as not to wince. I have to remind myself that this beast that carefully nudges my side with her snout is Rori. Then she licks my face like Barkley has done so often.
"Eww." I shudder and wipe my face clean. "Werewolf slobber."
Rori cocks her head to one side and grins, her ears are twitching and she looks utterly pleased with herself when she licks my face again right after I wiped it clean. Then she drops her large head in my lap and whines until I scratch her behind the ears and pet her fur.
"And... what are we going to do now?" I ask. This is all so horrible, I think, I'm in shock... and yet I find myself smiling when Rori rolls on her back to have me scratch her belly. Even as a werewolf, she is cute... well, as cute as such a beast can be... which is, I admit, nothing to get excited about. I am simply relieved to see she is still herself... somehow... She just got reshaped...
"Now, we are going to use this to our advantage," Rori growls. That's just typical. She turns into a monster and next she makes plans of how to get what she wants by making use of her new appearance. I guess it helps her to keep herself busy. What else is there for her but to despair or to fight? It helps me, too, as I am close to despairing myself. She scratches herself behind the ear with her hind-leg, then starts pacing the cave.
"We suspect there's more to this curse than Zathrian told us. Swiftrunner gave us a hint but nothing more," Rori growls.
"He could try to use us as a tool," I point out.
"Same with Zathrian," Morrigan remarks.
"That's why we have to find out the truth," Rori insists.
"But how when nobody wants to talk to us?"
"Swiftrunner doesn't trust us because we work for the Dalish," Rori muses. "But now I am one of them. Maybe I can find out why the werewolves hate the Dalish so much while you find out what Zathrian is hiding from us. Most important, I could find their lair."
"You want to go to the werewolves? All alone?" I cry out. "They will kill you!"
"She won't be alone," Morrigan says matter-of-factly. A bit of lurid light, some fog, the crackling of magic and Poof! Morrigan is a werewolf.
"Oh, wow, that's the trick," Rori remarks dryly. "Someone should have told me."
"It's still a crazy plan," I protest sullenly. I don't feel any better with Rori joining the pack of the werewolves now Morrigan is with her. I wish I could be with her instead.
"And that's why it will work," Rori barks, licking my face once more.
"Ewww... really, we have to turn you back into a human soon. I'm not too fond of these wet slobbering kisses."
The night is already turning grey when the two werewolves, one red, one black, one real, one fake, disappear into the forest.
I stand there until the sky is lit with orange and pink and the sun rises in all its glory, bathing me in its warmth and light. It's somewhat comforting that even the darkest night will end. You only have to survive it.
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In good times and in bad