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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Our little party is on its way to Redcliffe. Our newly achieved horse carries our tents and all the other stuff Rori and Leliana think necessary for camping. With Loghain looking for us we should avoid the inns. It's saver to camp someplace outside the villages. Also more uncomfortable but nobody complains. Better to be freezing and wet from the rain than dead.
Morrigan plucks herbs that grow at the side of the road. At least I do hope it's herbs and none of the fifteen poisons she mentioned when we appointed her to become the chef. Rori is silent today. She either walks in front or behind but never with us. Recalling how upset she was yesterday, I decide not to leave her alone this time. She doesn't look at me when I walk beside her, her eyes are cast down as if her boots are the most interesting thing in the world.
I gently nudge her side and Rori immediately nudges back. Oh, I know that game! It's an all time favourite amongst boys too young to shave. And obviously amongst the last two remaining Grey Wardens of Ferelden. I nudge back and so does Rori. She still stares at her boots but she is grinning, so I nudge her again. A few moments later nudging has turned into shoving and in the end we shove each other into the ditch, laughing so hard we have trouble climbing out of it again.
Morrigan glares at us, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Are you drunk?"
"No," Rori gasps as she grabs my hand and allows me to help her out of the ditch.
"Then silliness obviously is infectuous."
Morrigan walks away before I can shove her into the ditch. I so can't stand her - which prompts my next question since Rori now - although she has wet feet and her boots make squeaking sounds when she walks - is far more cheerful than before my infectuous silliness.
"May I ask your opinion about our companions?"
"Sure, go ahead."
Morrigan is useful. Leliana - well, who can tell what she really saw? She believes in her visions and she can shoot an arrow straight in the eye of a man and does so without hesitation. Sten, creepy but Rori guesses there's more to his story and the reason why he murdered the family. I don't agree with all her opinions but I guess I don't have to. It should work for me as long as it works for her.
"So, you trust them?"
"Trust?" The smile is wiped off her face by my question. Her features harden and ice creeps into her voice. "No, I do not trust them." She pauses, grinding her teeth. Her breathing has become heavy and I truly regret I have asked. When she speaks again her voice is low and bare of all emotions. "My father trusted Howe. The Arl called him 'old friend' on that very day only a few hours before he betrayed and murdered my father. He even suggested I should marry his son. He must have known already that we wouldn't live to see the next day." She bites back the tears that well in her eyes, wipes them away with her sleeve when her efforts prove uneffectively. "I made clear I wasn't interested. Sometimes... sometimes I wonder if my answer condemned my family to die. If I hadn't turned down that thought right away, maybe Howe would have seen a possibility to gain more power through a marriage... maybe..."
I take her hand and squeeze it gently. I cannot watch how she tortures herself. "It's not your fault. Nothing you did or said could have changed anything. He only wanted to lull you to believe in everything to be alright."
"You're probably right." She straightens herself, inhaling deeply to regain her composure. "I am going to make him pay." If Rendon Howe could see her that moment, the cold hatred that burns in her eyes, he'd regret to ever have alienated her. I have no doubt that she will find and kill him - and it won't be pretty. "Howe murdering my family, Loghain betraying Cailan, Arl Eamon's illness, you don't think that's a coincidence, do you?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if Loghain planned this all for a long time. But why? That's what I don't understand."
"Me neither. We should ask them before we send them to their final destination."
When we pass by a farm, Rori wants to see if we can buy some food but the place is abandoned. The inhabitants are gone and the thick puddles of dried blood we find in the courtyard tell their own story.
"Darkspawn?" Rori asks, scanning the surroundings for any danger.
"I can't feel any nearby."
We neither find the farmers nor any darkspawn. Rori takes whatever she thinks is useful from the house. She even picks the blasted locks of anything that is not meant to be opened by anybody without a key.
"May I ask how a young noble woman comes to know such things as picking locks? And the way you fight..."
"Blame Aunt Agatha," Rori laughs. "Grandpa wanted her to marry Rendon Howe." She spits his name out as if it is something foul and rotten. "Agatha, however, had her own plans. She didn't want to marry a man she didn't love. I think she was more into women anyway."
The Chantry is not too fond of relationships between two women - or two men. But of course I know they exist. I really haven't wasted too much thought about it, though. Still, Rori mentioning her aunt, makes me curious. I just have to know. No idea why I think this is of any importance. I mean, it shouldn't be of any importance, right? "And... what about you?"
"About me?" She looks up from the items she has lifted out of the chest. Is she as clueless as she seems or does she play with me?
"Well, I was wondering..." I begin to sweat. How to ask a girl if she is prefering women over men? It's something I have never inquired before with anybody.
"Yesss?"
"I was wondering why a woman your age wouldn't yet be married," I blurt out.
That earns me her full unshared attention. "A woman my age!?!" She rises to her full - rather unimpressive - height. "Are you calling me a spinster, Alistair?" Oh, that soft sweetness in her voice. It's chilling.
"Never, dear lady. Perish that thought!" I put my hand over my heart and do my best to imitate Barkley's puppy dog eyes. "But you have to admit for a noble woman it is quite unusual not to be married at the age of 18."
"I only turned 18 a week ago!"
I quickly count back and pale. "But, that was the day of your Joining! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would that have changed anything? Would you have wrapped a bow around the goblet? I didn't really feel like celebrating anything anyway."
"I... I am sorry. I really don't know what to say." I feel like a complete jerk now.
She shrugs. "It's alright. I survived. Felt a bit like being reborn."
"Sorry," I apologize once more.
"Alistair, really, don't worry about it." She gives me a reassuring smile. Then she returns mercilessly to the question that has initiated this conversation. "You aren't married and you are older than me,"
Only by one and a half year it seems. I turned 19 shortly before becoming a Grey Warden. "I am a man." Wrong thing to say. "And a Grey Warden," I hurry to add. Doesn't make things better. "And before that I was supposed to become a templar. And templars don't marry. I mean, they can but only with the Chantry's permission. And that doesn't happen often. Actually, the battlefield of love is none templars should ever be found upon."
"That's a whole lot of excuses," Rori remarks dryly. "Well, here is mine: I just never met someone I could fall in love with. Not as good as yours but for me that's good enough. I didn't want to spend my entire life with someone I don't care for."
I agree with her but I also know that for noble women love is a luxury. "Didn't your parents choose a groom for you?"
"Oh yes, they did. They have constantly been trying to marry me away ever since I turned 14."
"And... what happened?"
"I told them this so wasn't going to happen."
"That's it? They let you get away with that?"
"No, not really. First there was this tourney - or should I say, there was supposed to be a tourney? And the winner should be my groom."
"What did you do? Win the tourney?"
Rori snorts. "As if I had stood a chance! No, I let Barkley into the kitchen and while Nan was chasing him, I dropped aperient into the soup."
"You... poisoned them?" I sound as shocked as I am.
"Just a little bit." At least she has the decency to look guilty. She grins sheepishly at me. "In the morning when the audience had assembled for the tourney none of the knights showed up. But they all recovered. No harm done."
"Until now I was worried Morrigan could poison us some day. I can't believe you did that!" If she hadn't just confessed her crime herself I certainly wouldn't believe it.
"And I wasn't brought up by flying dogs, so I don't have any excuse to offer for my lack of appropriate behaviour," she teases. Ahh, she has been listening to me again. "It was a desperate deed. The tourney was supposed to be part of my birthday party. That's not unusual amongst the nobility. Still, I wasn't prepared to leave with a husband I didn't know at all. There was no way I could have stayed in Highever once I got married. It felt like they didn't want me there anymore. Like losing home."
That I can understand. I felt the same when Arl Eamon sent me away to the Chantry.
"Didn't you get in trouble?"
"They couldn't prove it was me. Anyway, afterwards they tried with a more personal approach. They kept inviting possible grooms - and I kept making sure they were so not interested. I was a very bad daughter. Thankfully my parents have... had such a good sense of humour. After some time Mama changed her tactics. She wouldn't dress me up for meeting possible grooms anymore but arranged the meeting to be less pressing. I often didn't know they had invited someone until I met him at the dinner table." She falls silent, staring down at her fingers while she is lost in memories. With a deep sigh she returns to the here and now when I am about to leave. Try to move silently in a suit of plate armour. Just not possible. "Sorry, it's weird to talk about them... all these memories..."
"You don't have to explain. I understand."
"Yeah, you do." She pockets the money she found and follows me outside where the others wait. "Thinking about it," she muses. "I should have been alarmed by Howe suggesting Thomas to me. He was present more than once when I scared some of the men away. Thomas liked me, though. He's four years younger than I am. I guess a fourteen year old boy still thinks it's funny when a girl appears for dinner wearing her panties for a hat." Now, I so wish I could have seen that!
"There wasn't a single one you liked?" All the things she said, it doesn't sound encouraging at all. I feel my spirits sink.
She thinks about this for a while. "I liked Curtis. I had a crush on him but he was some Arl's bastard and there was no way my parents would have allowed me to marry him. I was so furious that I doubled my efforts to scare any other man away. This is my choice not someone elses."
"You have a soft spot for bastards then?"
She tilts her head to one side and smiles at me in a way that makes my heart do a sumersault. "Obviously."
Tomorrow we will reach Redcliffe. I am nervous. Someone could mention that I am more than just a bastard. Not that I regard myself as something special. Still, my father was King Maric and people use to get excited about that fact - mostly unpleasantly excited. I don't want to be reminded of it. I'd rather be just Alistair. However, as soon as people know who my father was, things become complicated. I am aware of how their behaviour changes and how they stare. Those who knew Maric seem to look for him in me. I always feel like a complete failure then.
Still I cannot have anybody else blurt it out to Rori. She deserves the truth from me. I couldn't look in the mirror anymore if I was such a coward as not to tell her myself. She's my only fellow Grey Warden left and she's... oh, I don't know. My grief is like a heavy layer of blankets that suffocates any other emotion. Rori... she is beautiful and I enjoy her company... she makes me laugh... and smile... and she gives me these strange moments when my heart seems to skip a beat... And then I feel guilty. Duncan and the others died and I am here, alive and flirting with my fellow Warden when I should be dead like them. I feel like I don't deserve this. What makes it worse, I sound like a complete loser when these thoughts keep circling round and round in my head - until Rori appears and breaks the cycle.
I am tending my weapons, sitting away from the rest of the group, lost in gloomy thought when she's suddenly there with my and her bowl in her hands. "Food time," she says, slumping down next to me while balancing the bowls. She shoves mine at me and I stare at it suspiciously.
"Cooked by the swamp witch with the knowledge of fifteen different poisons and served by the girl who gave more than a dozen knights the runs - should I dare?" I tease when I take the bowl from her.
Rori groans and pouts. "I should have never told you. You will reproach me with that forever!"
"Only until I find another way to make you pout. You look incredibly cute when you do so."
Oh, and now she blushes! Pouting and blushing, could she get any more adorable? My gloomy thoughts have flown out of the window. They are not far away, though. Another reason for me to feel guilty later but with Rori it is impossible for me to mourn as I should. Although I haven't spent much time with Duncan I know he wouldn't like it - all the mourning I mean, not my flirting with Rori. He never was a man to wallow in selfpity and regret. But that is why he was the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden and I am... well, I am loading all the responsibility onto Rori's narrow shoulders. Yes, that's what I am, a full grown man hiding behind a younger and less experienced girl. Congratulations, Alistair! You better don't get attached to the illusion she could possibly like you.
While I eat my stew I watch Rori wolf down hers. She stuffs so much of her bread into her mouth she can hardly chew. It makes me grin, then chuckle when she produces a small box of cookies, an apple and two rather squashed looking sandwiches from her backpack and begins munching. Rori glares at me but can't say anything with her mouth so stuffed that she looks like a chipmunk. Now I really can't stiffle a laugh anymore.
"What's so funny?" she asks once she has swallowed. Before I can answer she's back to stuffing herself with food.
"You are," I honestly answer that question. She reminds me of myself after my Joining.
Again a quick reply is prevented by the fact of her having stuffed half an apple into her mouth. "I am glad you find me so amusing," she finally says. "That gloomy look you carry around most of the time doesn't suit you. Whatever I have done I should do it more often if it makes you laugh."
I like the sense of humour that girl has. She doesn't think of herself as so high and mighty that she cannot accept any joking at her cost.
"So what was it like with the other Grey Wardens?"
Sometimes I forget that Rori has never gotten to know them. I am the only other Grey Warden and as I haven't been part of the group much longer I am not very reliable when it comes to give her information. I wish Duncan had told me more. He used to say that I would find out sooner or later. 'You'll see.' was one of his most favourite lines. Now I wish I had pestered him some more. I doubt Rori would have accepted a 'You'll see'.
Her questions bring back memories of the best time of my life ever since I was sent away to the Chantry by Arl Eamon. "They were quite a group. We were kin of a sort. We also laughed more than you'd think. There was this one time... well, you probably don't want to hear stories about men you didn't know."
"Weren't there any women?"
"Not as Grey Wardens. Not when I was there. I have seen pictures but none was as pretty as you." That makes her blush again. I am aiming for a blush highscore with her. She's a redhead so her blushes are specially beautiful against her pale skin.
I tell her about Gregor. Or was it Grigor? His accent was so bad I didn't even get his name right. And his beard was the fuzziest I have ever seen. I myself prefer a clean shave. Okay... I'm vain. My face is just prettier than Gregor's. With a face like his my beard would be even fuzzier. I just would have to wait twenty years or more for my beard to become that fuzzy. Wait, that's not part of the story. Yeah, the drinking contest.
"Seems like you had a lot of fun," Rori observes. She's right. We all knew we would die. Yeah, everybody dies sometime sooner or later. But not like that. Being a Grey Warden is not all about funny drinking contests. And still I rather became a Grey Warden than a templar. I even don't mind Duncan made me gulp down poison while the lyrium addiction the Chantry provides for the templars makes me real furious. I can't say where the difference is - both claim it's necessary. I guess it's that with the Chantry I feel it's tokenistic.
"I'm told that Duncan walked in later and saw us all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and Gregor still drinking." I finish my story. "Duncan laughed until he nearly... until..." There it is again. I hate it when memories I am fond of get tainted by the grief that hovers above me like a raincloud.
"I'm sorry. This must be hard for you." Rori always makes it sound as if she really cares. I have not once gotten the impression she just says something because it's expected, something she thinks I would want to hear. People often do that, especially when they hear that King Maric was my father. As far as I am concerned Arl Eamon and Duncan were far closer to a father than the king who sired me.
"It just struck me that I have nothing to remember Duncan. Nothing at all." I'm that kind of person. I need something to remember. Not because I would forget. It's for comfort. That's part of why it still haunts me that I destroyed my mother's Andraste amulet, although it's been years since I lost it.
"You have your memories of him." She takes my hand and squeezes it lightly before she lets go again. I wish she wouldn't. I like the feeling of her small hand in mine.
Then there's silence. The only sound is Rori devouring the cookies. Good thing she gets so much exercise. She notices I am watching her and offers one to me.
"These look suspiciously like Sten's," I say.
"Because they are Sten's."
"He gave you his cookies?" I can't believe it. I asked him if I could have one yesterday and he growled at me. That was the only answer I would get but as he sounded a lot like Barkley and as taking away food from the dog is suicidal, I decided Sten could keep his cookies.
"Uhm, well, he didn't exactly give them to me..."
"You stole them!?"
"I was starving!" Rori defends herself. "And he ate Barkley's Mabari cookies so we're even."
"Is that also something you learnt from Aunt Agatha?" Rori's moral conception seems as flexible as she is. I am used to the black and white opinions of the Chantry so it's not that easy getting used to her pragmatic point of view. Duncan was the same. He always said Grey Wardens have to do whatever is necessary to fight the darkspawn. I am not sure if stealing Sten's cookies comes under fighting the darkspawn. Considering the changes Rori is experiencing after the Joining it could be justified, though. I also felt like starving right after the Joining. There could never be enough food for me. I'd probably have stolen Sten's cookies, too. The difference is that I would have gotten caught and Sten would have skinned me alive while her quick fingers picked his pockets unnoticed.
"Agatha was an adventurer but not a thief. Her lover, Elsa, though, she was what you'd call a rogue. She taught me a lot of things."
"Things like stealing, picking pockets, poisoning?"
"It can prove very useful to be an adept pickpocket. Or to know how to detect and deactivate traps."
True. Rori has kept me from stepping into several said traps already.
"So how did this Elsa end up teaching you?"
"Agatha would return to Castle Cousland every winter and leave again each spring for her adventures. She and her companions would play games with Fergus, my cousins and me. It started with Elsa showing me how to pick locks and I was allowed to keep whatever she put in the chest I opened. Then there were these games when I should pick something out of the pocket of a straw man. There were dozens of small bells attached to it and whenever I wasn't careful they would ring."
Rori's voice is laced with the excitement these dear memories cause. Her eyes sparkle with the giddiness she must have felt as a child when taking part in these games.
"Later Agatha and Elsa would think of treasure hunts that would lead me through the whole castle. There were riddles to solve, locks to pick. Sometimes I had to steal a key or fight a monster that was Agatha or someone else in disguise. My father would sometimes play with us. Mother, too, although she would also complain how childish this was. Agatha and her group kept the whole castle busy during long cold winter days."
She keeps refering to her aunt in past tense. While she talks her voice becomes softer, sadness creeps into her tone mixed with melanncholy and sorrow. I won't ask but I am quite sure Agatha is as dead as the rest of her family. Now I feel bad for having asked her at all.
"The winter after the tourney that didn't take place Agatha didn't return for her winter break. I felt betrayed because I had hoped she would allow me to accompany her. It was a hard time for my parents and me. We didn't get along too well then until they gave up trying to force me into a marriage and I gave up behaving like a complete lunatic. I don't know what happened to her. I keep telling me she travelled somewhere far away. Antiva maybe. But four years later I probably should accept that she is dead."
Well done, Alistair! Now you've made her sad again. I can't stand that look an her face. I want to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright - but we both know it will never be alright again. We cannot bring back the dead.
That's when Rori says: "Thank you for asking. It's good to be able to talk about them to someone... to you."
- 7
- 8
- 9
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In good times and in bad