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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
- 89
- 90
- 91
I have started a forum thread for this story. You can find replies to your reviews there and are free to discuss anything abut the story there, too. There's a link at the botom of each chapter "Disscuss this Story". Click it and you'll get to the forum. Then find the thread (there's not that many) in the Het/Male/Female forum.
Chapter 90
"Yes, I can. Yes, I CAN. YES, I CAN! ... Blast... I so can't!... Maker! I am doomed!" I am standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection that is staring back with increasing panic, while Amy polishes the last few fingerprints of my shining armour - the one I wore when arriving at Denerim with the Mac Eanraig armada. "Am I the only one who feels as if they are lead like a lamb to the slaughter?"
"Bah!" Rori bleats as she emerges from behind the screen where she has been violently sick into the chamber pot. She claims its the stress and her nerves. Can't blame her, I feel terribly sick myself.
"You've fought against darkspawn and demons and mages. Now you only will go to the Landsmeet with all the nobility of Ferelden - that can't be that dangerous, can it?" Amethyne asks for once sounding like the child she is.
The Maker has already proven a whole lot of times that HE has a very strange sense of humour - so I wouldn't be surprised if I was king at the end of the day. Or, haha, imagine that: Loghain becomes a Grey Warden, Anora gets her throne and I get executed so they can get rid of the fool who tried to take their power away for good... What a joke!
"I'd rather meet the archdemon," I mutter, frowning at my reflection as I fumble around with my hair. There's this one strand that just won't stay where it's supposed to be... and as I actually consider my decapitation, I at least want my head to look as pretty as possible...
"You already said that when I dragged you into the Gnawed Noble, and here you are, alive and still kicking," Rori teases me and ruffles my hair just when it's perfect.
"Hardly," I complain, glaring daggers at her. "It is where the nobility goes to get drunk and debate who is the most self-important of them all," I explain to Amy, waving the comb around. "Good times." Rori snatches the comb from me and runs it through her thick curls - and of course she breaks off a tooth. "Hey! This is my favourite comb!" I growl when she hands it back to me with an apologetical shrug and a sheepish grin.
"Oh, come on! Uncle Angus' spectacle of replaying the naval battle of Denerim inside the tavern with tables as ships, being shoved around, and a whole lot of very tipsy nobles fencing with whatever they could get hold of wasn't that bad."
"Oghren raised his smallclothes as the Orlesian flag after Zevran drew a lion on it...," I snicker.
"The stench was unbearable," Rori groans.
"Leonas Bryland confirmed that's exactly what Orlesians smell like..." And that's about all I remember from the conversation I had with the bann. And that his daughter threw a major tantrum when Rori told her that Shale wasn't for sale.
"And there was a big hooray when Shale shoved an Orlesian table-ship so hard, it crashed into the wall and immediately sunk... with bard and nug on board," Rori cheers.
"But I had to play Maric and everybody and their dog drunkenly slapped my back afterwards, slurring to me how much I ressembled my father," I pout.
"You have to admit, that's not the worst thing they could have said about you," Rori points out, tiptoeing to give me a peck on the cheek.
"Old ladies kept groping my hindquarters," I complain. It's especially bitter since that is about how close I got to have sex ever since Rori dragged me out of this bedroom after her verbal rumble with Anora. "And they said... they said..." One look at Amethyne curiously following our conversation and I blush a deeper shade of crimson. Even my ears glow. "Maker! I can't repeat that..."
"At least nobody offered you coin. Morrigan was mistaken for a... uhm... err..." Rori casts a glance at Amethyne and grins sheepishly. "She was mistaken for..."
"A whore," the elven girl prompts.
"HA! Yes!" I snicker. "That was almost worth all the talking to the nobles."
"You did well," Rori assures me.
"Really? I only remember I had to sing the Soldier and the Seawolf until my throat was sore and drink a toast to... duh, I really don't know anymore... In the end I just downed every shot Angus shoved into my hand."
"Ugh, don't talk about drinks... I had to hide under Sten's table with Barkley..."
"Oh, hiding you call it? I thought, you passed out."
"I was hiding," Rori insists, clonking her knuckles against my chest plate. "Cousin James kept drinking toasts on my dead parents. And as much as I loved them, I cannot toast on them a dozen times in a row..."
"James? Wasn't that the fool who accepted Shale's challenge to arm-wrestle her?" I pull a face at the memory of what the arm looked like after arm-wrestling the golem and before a very tipsy granny mage mended it back together.
"Yep. But at least he placed his bet on the golem."
"As far as I recall, James also kept hitting on Leliana..."
"Until Leliana hit him," Rori laughs. "Over the head. With a frying pan. And there they say Orlesian bards are subtle."
"Sten really was the only one who stayed sober - well, and Shale," I observe, wondering how he actually endured it. He's such a tough guy. "He kept saying things like: 'Very innovative, making a place for idiots to gather where they won't be underfoot.' He probably has the Qunari invasion all planned out already."
"Do you think, Wynne recalls how she got engaged?" Rori wonders.
"Very unlikely," I mutter, rubbing my right buttock where under the shiny armour there is now a griffon painting, somewhat like the designs Zevran wears on his face. What does he call them? Tatoos? Don't ask me how it got there! I have no blasted clue! All I know, I woke up with it this morning. Rori got a matching one on her left buttock. She is as clueless as I am. Just one thing is sure: At some point we both dropped our pants - unless of course there is magic involved... oh, please, let there be magic involved... At least the unsolved mystery of the griffon adorning my hindquarters keeps me from thinking too much about how I could be king when I return... if I return... and what that means for Rori and me... Oh, blast it! "I so could do with a drink..."
"Ugh," Rori groans and claps her hands over her mouth.
"You two really should drink less," Amy says while she brushes off Rori's midnight blue cape with the silver griffon and the laurel wreath. "Here," she hands me my shield - formerly Duncan's - and my sword - formerly Maric's. "Try not to get drunk this time."
"How about: try not to get killed?" I mumble when Amethyne shoos Rori and me out of the door.
"I take it you got at least that much common sense," the seven year old remarks dryly.
She's such a funny little kid.
"Alistair, Rori," Eamon exclaims when we almost run straight into him as soon as we stumble out of the door. "Anora has disappeared!"
"That wouldn't have happened if you had left the bricked up door bricked up," Rori says gloomily.
"She is gone? Hopefully for good!" I cheer.
"I can't share your optimism. She for sure is up to something. I wish you could have convinced her to become your ally," Eamon sighs. The last few weeks have been stressful for him, too. He looks as tired and old as I feel.
"Anora didn't want to be my ally. She wanted me to be hers." Rori says.
"Well, we can't undo this anymore. This is our one and only chance. May the Maker guide us and show mercy. Today our fate and that of Ferelden will be decided. I'll meet you at the Landsmeet. Don't be late!" Thus said the Arl of Redcliffe marches off.
I look at Rori, Rori looks at me and we both bleat: "BAH!"
Only half an hour later, the little lambs meet the big bad wolf. Actually it's Loghain's über-bully Ser Cauthrien, trying to murder me - and Rori and the whole rest of the flock - right outside the doors of the great hall where the Landsmeet is supposed to take place. One so can't blame Loghain of lack of determination.
"Warden, I am not surprised it has come to this," Cauthrien declares. We practically stumble upon her as soon as we walk through the door. And there I was wondering why there weren't any guards anywhere. Well, here they are! Wolves like sheep seldomly come alone.
"Oh no," Rori groans. "Not again! Don't you have anything else to do? This is getting old, all the attempts to murder us. That's so uncool."
"And unprofessional," Zevran adds cheerfully. "Doesn't anybody anymore know how to create a decent ambush?"
"She wants to fight us? But we all got dressed up so lovely, armours polished, hair looking nice," I sigh heavily. And there I promised Amethyne not to completely ruin my garments this time.
Oghren grunts, inching away from me. "Lad, you sound like a sodding queen!"
"And there I thought I was supposed to be king," I laugh. "No wonder Anora is so furious. I'd certainly also look better in her dresses..."
At the sound of my voice, Cauthrien whips around to face me. She's quite aggressive, stance, tone of her voice. This is no freaking game, she means it. "And Alistair, if you were even remotely worthy of being King Maric's son you would already be in the Landsmeet, now wouldn't you?"
Whoa!
I take it, Cauthrien is not my biggest fan. She probably expects me to feel insulted now. Sorry, I've heard worse from Morrigan. Maybe she should take lessons with her.
"I certainly would if you didn't block my way," I shoot back before Rori can haul an insult at her. My beloved fellow Grey Warden stands right next to me with her fists clenched and gritted teeth, her face so bright red, she looks as if she was about to explode.
"You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom," Cauthrien snaps, pointing her finger first at Rori then at me.
Rori inhales deeply, then sighs heavily. "We wouldn't oppose him if he didn't constantly try to kill us. Like right now. Or our families, friends, a whole lot of completely innocent people... And as for the civil war, it started long before we even started opposing him..."
"You do not think you will get past me to denigrate the Landsmeet itself," Loghain's watch dog cuts her short before she can even try to explain.
Rori and I shake our heads. "Nope, we wouldn't even dare to dream of that," I mutter. "I mean, you and the whole gang of heavily armed guards quite obviously aren't here to wish us luck. I'm not an idiot... well, not all of the time. Just, you know, this time we have quite some backup ourselves..."
"The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent and we can finally put this to rest once you are gone," Cauthrien shouts, taking one step back, her face a grim mask of determination, her hand reaching for her sword.
"Does that mean we are going to crush its head now?" Shale asks hopefully, punching her fist into her palm.
Rori shakes her head silently and takes one step forward while the rest of her companions all take one step back and prepare for battle.
"Err... Rori? Wrong way?" I hiss, ready to slam my shield into the female knight should she make a move towards Rori.
"You crazy nug-cuddler, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Oghren grunts, axe raised.
Holding up her hand to stop Shale and the rest of us from lunging into battle, Rori takes another step forward. Her eyes locked with Ser Cauthrien's, she refuses to be intimidated by the knight - who certainly will have to listen to some things she won't like. Rori has that look on her face, the same she wore when challenging Howe for a duel.
"Ser Cauthrien, I'd rather not fight against you. You are a loyal and honourable knight - you have proven so when you could have just walked away and let things happen," Rori says lowly, her voice trembles from the effort to keep it calm and her emotions reined in. "Loghain used to be a great and noble man, perhaps he still is."
I disagree but even I am smart enough to keep my mouth shut for once. Rori is right, Cauthrien could have walked away, back then in Fort Drakon... but she didn't. She indeed is an honourable woman, though the man she serves is not.
Err... honourable, I mean. Loghain of course is not a woman... So why am I having images of him in a fancy dress popping up in my mind right now. It's so hilarious, I have to clap both my hands over my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud.
"But his actions are far from great or noble," Rori goes on. "They include murder, slavery and treachery. I am sure, he believes to defend Ferelden that way - quite the contrary, though. He sees a foe where there is none and is blind for the real threat."
Ser Cauthrien lifts her sword, ready to strike and still Rori doesn't move an inch. The sword in the knight's hand trembles slightly as she bites her lips to stop them from quivering. She shakes her head furiously, tightens the grip around her sword.
"If you truly believe with all your heart that what Loghain does, is right, then you should fight us," Rori says in a soft whisper, not even blinking when Cauthrien whirls her blade around, pointing it at Rori's throat.
Maker! She's giving me a heart attack! Zevran beside me curses in Antivan under his breath, I can feel the crackling of magic in my back and hear Leliana whispering prayers. Shale gnaws at her non-existent fingernails and Oghren is downing his whole flask in one go - well, he would if Wynne didn't snatch it away from him to take a sip herself. Only Sten stays as calm and motionless as a statue, watching the battle of wills intently.
"It would be your duty to stop us cost what it may," Rori meanwhile goes on, unperturbed by us bristling around in her back and the sharp metal at her throat. "But if there is doubt in your heart, if you at least sometimes wonder, if Loghain's actions truly are the one and only way to save Ferelden, if you at least sometimes feel regret or reluctance when you loyaly obey his orders... then I beg you, listen to your heart."
The effect of these words on Ser Cauthrien is... unexpected. At least I did not expect her to lower her sword and tumble a step backwards. I did not expect that shocked and pained expression on her face, the fear and sadness in her eyes. She's not the unwavering knight anymore that she was only a few words ago.
"I have had so many doubts of late," she mutters more to herself than speaking to Rori. Her sword suddenly seems too heavy for her, weighing her down when until now she has wielded it with pride. "Loghain is a great man but his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness. He has done... terrible things." Cauthrien admits, speaking in a voice so low, it's hardly audible. "I know it," she breathes. "But I owe him everything. I cannot betray him, do not ask me to." Thus said, she lifts her blade once more, ready for the inevitable fight to come. With her all the guards and on our side everybody but Rori draw their weapons, too.
"Your first duty is to protect Ferelden," Rori says calmly, gently, "and you know, Loghain would agree."
With a loud clatter Cauthrien's sword falls to the ground. The knight's face is ashen when her eyes meet Rori's. Something dies inside of her that moment... I don't understand why she's so damn fond of Loghain... she says she owes him... I can only imagine he is her Duncan. Maker! Then she deserves my sympathy. Not that Duncan was or ever would have been anything like Loghain... but I believe, I can understand what Loghain means to Cauthrien...
"I never thought duty would taste so bitter," she croaks as she steps out of our way. "Stop him, stop him from betraying everything he once loved." Her legs don't support her anymore and she drops to her knees, taking hold of Rori's hand as she is about to pass by. "Please, show mercy! Without Loghain there would be no Ferelden to defend."
"I won't lie to you," Rori says sadly, squeezing the knight's hand for comfort. "I cannot make any promises. It depends on the Landsmeet, it depends on Loghain himself..."
Ser Cauthrien nods slowly. "I understand," she mutters with tears in her eyes as she lets go of Rori's hand.
"And we're not even at the Landsmeet itself," I mutter once we gather in front of the great doors. According to the noise from inside, the debate has already started without us.
Rori's answer is a fierce, though disappointingly short kiss. "I love you," she whispers, sounding as desperate and devastated as Ser Cauthrien.
Before I can answer, Zevran smacks mine and Rori's back and grinning broadly, he cheerfully exclaims: "Ready for the celebrity death match?"
"No?" Rori and I squeak unison.
"Alas, ready or not, here we go!"
Doom!
DOOM!
- 89
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- 91
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In good times and in bad