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In good times and in bad	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 14752 -:- 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
- 93
- 94
- 95
Notes:

Before you get confused, wondering: What the fuck is she doing?! That's not how it is in the game!
Let's take a look at the map of Ferelden!
There we see that there's several hundred miles/kilometers between Redcliffe and Denerim. A distance that an army with infantry and cavalry and whatever else they drag along cannot cross within a day. Riordan's revelation probably only comes shortly before the battle. And Morrigan says that the Dark Ritual has to take place at the eve of the final battle.
So unless Captain Kirk and his crew stop by to beam Roristair and Co. to Denerim, the game events that happen in Redcliffe cannot happen in Redcliffe but in a warcamp outside Denerim. Right?
Introduces Teagan's and Eamon's cousin from the Free Marches (World of Thedas Vol. 2)

Chapter Text
"Seriously?" Rori groans when Riordan greets us with the news that the archdemon has left its lair and is leading the horde towards Denerim as soon as we arrive at Redcliffe - after a hurried four day journey from Denerim. "We should have stayed in bed," she mutters under her breath, earning herself a scathing glare from Eamon. "What? Then at least we would be in Denerim now! Would have saved us running around half of Ferelden - again."
"She has a point, you know," Cador Aurum laughs at the Arl's sour expression. The tall warrior is Teagan's and Eamon's cousin from the Free Marches. Teagan - Maker bless him! - has formed some alliances and organized some assistance from our neighbours. So next to the banners of Ferelden, those of the Aurums and Trevelyans will be present on the battlefield.
"We cannot skip out on Denerim," I insist. "We at least have to try." Our odds are long - but I will not abandon my people like Loghain did so often, acting as a master of life and death.
"I agree with Alistair... or should I call you Your Majesty?" Riordan says, bowing slightly.
"Rather not. Not yet anyway," I mutter uncomfortably. Yes, I know, I should get used to it! But it all seems so far away and unreal when I don't even know if I will live to see tomorrow.
"Only Grey Wardens can defeat the archdemon and end the Blight," Riordan explains. "Without the Grey Wardens Denerim will fall."
"How many are you? Three?" Cador inquires, sizing up our unimpressing numbers. "Teagan said only a miracle could save Ferelden. No liar, he. No wonder you agreed on marrying the Trevelyan girl, Teagan. Desperate meassures, huh?"
"You are married to her sister, Cador," Teagan points out teasingly.
"See, I know what I'm talking about." Cador wraps his arm around Teagan's shoulder and beams at his cousin. "Now, ain't you lucky that I am here? Just like the old days."
"What's so special about us that only we can kill an archdemon?" Rori asks suspiciously while the bickering between Cador and Teagan goes to and fro.
"So you do not know?" Riordan gasps. He looks... shocked? Why does he look shocked? "Of course not. You are only recruits. Duncan wouldn't have told you."
"Uh-oh, we will not like this, will we?" I groan. Great. Just great. Duncan and his blasted 'You'll see',
"I will give you all the information you need in time before the battle," Riordan assures us. If this is meant to depel our concerns, then I'm afraid it so doesn't work. "For now, we should prepare our departure."
"We so will not like this," Rori agrees gloomily.
Since our whole army, dwarves, Dalish, mages and the united Fereldan nobility is in Redcliffe, the archdemon and its horde will meet a city that is not prepared for such an assault. A city that is crammed with refugees next to its inhabitants. We have to return as quickly as possible - and still won't be there in time. A whole army doesn't travel as fast as a small group on horseback. Warnings have been sent to Denerim and our reinforcement at Warden's Peak. The Mac Eanraig fleet can reach the city faster than the marching army, but we all realize that won't be enough. Maker preserve us! I do hope we will find anything of Denerim left when we get there.
"And I thought leaving Amethyne in Denerim would keep her safe." Rori says in utter frustration as she mounts her horse when we leave with the whole army in tow in the morning after our arrival. She is worried and so am I - well, actually everybody. But neither she nor I are allowed to show it. The king and queen are responsible for the morals and that's why we are busy talking to banns and commoners alike, radiating confidence when I'm actually scared right out of my mind and feel sick to my stomach whenever I think about the upcoming battle. I finally get an impression of how Cailan had to feel back in Ostagar. By the time we set up camp, I have a cramp in my face from all the forced smiles and am hoarse from all the reassuring speeches.
Maker! I am grateful when I can finally hide in my tent - the kingsize version instead of that tiny smelly one I'm used to - with Rori. I'm just about to destract myself and her from all the despair, fear and stress when Eamon and Teagan appear. "Your Highness, as designated king you have a special responsibility as an inspiring model. The degeneration of morals is nothing you should set an example of," Eamon insists, stopping dead as he catches sight of Rori and me. "Same applies to you, mylady."
I stand there caught in the act with both my palms resting on Rori's breasts - beneath her blouse - and gawk at him stupidly as my face goes bright red. Rori with her hand down the front of my pants looks equally foolish. We jump apart and I quickly remove my hands, but stepping away from Rori proves impossible as she does not let go of me. It's not as if she wasn't trying, though. Her bracelet has gotten caught in the fabric of my pants. Typical!
"Huh? Err... Eamon! Teagan! Uhm... nice... tent, don't you think?" I stammer, blushing so violently I wouldn't be surprised if my ears glowed red in the dark. Rori - the colour of her face matching her hair - is on her knees with her hand still stuck in my pants while she tries to pull the breeches open with her second hand and teeth...
Doom!
DOOM!
"Err... I don't think she is ready to leave...," I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut in the hope Eamon and Teagan will be gone when I open them again. They aren't. Just my luck.
"Blast! The Fade with you, Eamon!" Rori snaps, wiggling her hands around inside my pants to get hold of the fastening of her bracelet. If embarrassement could kill I'd have died a thousand deaths by now. "I won't go anywhere. And I give a fucking damn what people think. Stop putting your nose in my business."
Whoa! Rori's butting heads with Arl Eamon. And all that while her hand clenches around my most private parts. And now everybody is staring at me, expecting me to choose between my advisor and my betrothed. Marvellous!
"Team Rori," I squeak.
"She really got you by the balls, your Highness," Teagan chuckles, dragging Eamon away while he is still dumbfounded. By the Arl's expression I dare say he wished someone would give this impertinent little boldface a spanking for her backtalk. He can count on me there. I will gladly take over this task.
"Yeah, the old ball and chain, you know," I grin sheepishly, wincing when Rori's grip tightens around me. "Not letting me go anywhere," I press through gritted teeth.
Rori manages to free her hand the very moment when we're alone again. The bracelet is still dangling from my flies. Why do things like that always happen to us?
"Awkward," I mutter, grinning sheepishly at my partner in crime who - to my utter dismay - rises from her kneeling position.
"Old ball and chain, huh?" Rori huffs, arms crossed in front of her chest.
"The most ravishing ornament I can wish for," I whisper softly as I lean in to steal a chaste kiss from her lips that gets returned with an exuberant passion that is anything but chaste. Next we tumble onto our makeshift bed together, hands all over each other, tongues intertwined in a sensuous dance. The softness of her voluptuous curves presses against my firm frame when our bodies move in the accelerating rhythm of our love making. Our noises of passion are our own hymn of love and lust - and the final crescendo is rewarded with a thundering applause and Morrigan's complaint: "Keep it down, you fools!"
Oh... haha! Awkward!
Whenever I am with Rori I tend to forget my surroundings... like a gigantic warcamp with thousands of soldiers outside the little island of illusionary privacy that is our tent.
No wonder I get greeted with a whole lot of wide, knowing smirks the next morning as soon as I leave my kingsize tent. The guards positioned at the entrance even wink at me and give me thumbs up. All flustered and flushed, I smile foolishly in return, wishing we were in Denerim already and I could kill some darkspawn.
Not that I get much time paying attention to the whispering behind my back. I get cornered by Bann Ceorlic while I still wolf down my porridge. Same time Riordan offers some advice on the battle and Eamon - still rather huffed - lectures me on discipline and duty... My head is spinning and it's no surprise that I hardly listen since I watch Rori fighting with her leather pants. She stumbles out of the tent backwards as she hops around, pulling forcefully at the garment to close the breeches over the curve of her belly. Seems someone has put on some weight, huh? No wonder with all the food she keeps wolfing down.
Rori still hasn't managed to close her pants when Morrigan appears with a mug in her hand. I can't hear what she says but her words have Rori freeze. Slack-jawed she gawks at the witch and shakes her head at whatever Morrigan is explaining. Her expression turns from confused to utterly shocked and her hands fly to her belly, resting there for a moment before she rakes her fingers through her hair, shaking her head no desperatedly. During the conversation that follows - it's mostly Morrigan talking - Rori becomes paler with every word spoken.
Morrigan shoves the mug at Rori, the ginger staring at the steaming liquid as if there were three-headed worms swimming in it. Her mission fulfilled, the witch saunters away, leaving behind a visibly shaken woman and a mug.
One hand pressed to her belly, the other clenched around the mug, Rori stands there blinking back the tears that sting in her eyes. With shaking hands, she lifts the mug to her lips, the hand resting on her belly fisting into the garment of her blouse. Then she lowers the mug again, repeating her attempt to drink several times. She is trembling so badly, she keeps spilling some of the liquid. In the end she pours the brew onto the ground, dropping the mug as if it was red-hot.
All the while I try to get to her to find out what's bothering her but it proves impossible to shake off the men talking to me. Whenever I excuse myself, they come up with yet another super-important topic that demands my attention. When I finally get rid of them, Rori seems to have recovered. She's still ashen but the trembling has stopped.
"Are you alright?" I ask worriedly, earning myself a small smile and a nod. "What did Morrigan give you?"
"A... remedy for my sickness," Rori croaks hesitantly.
"Then why didn't you drink it?" Her behaviour makes no sense to me. How can a healing brew upset her that much?
"I didn't like the side-effects," Rori says evasively, hiding her face behind a curtain of red curls. "They were... quite drastic."
"Are you ill?" I ask, following her into the tent where she begins rummaging through her luggage for different pants.
"No! No, I'm not ill." she says forcefully, then muttering under her breath. "Blast! I will have to ask Wade to ease my armour. Can't fight the archdemon without any pants."
"It could cause some distraction," I chuckle.
"I doubt it would be the archdemon to find itself distracted," Rori retorts, poking my ribs.
"Touché!" I laugh and then we stand there, foolishly gawking at each other and I can't get rid of the impression that I'm missing something. Rori bites her lower lip, inhales deeply and kneads her fingers nervously. "Rori?"
"Alistair," she begins, pressing her hands to her belly again. "The timing couldn't be worse... Oh blast! How to say this? Uhm... I... I am..."
"Your Highness!" Arl Wulff drones as he bursts into the tent, his appearance shutting Rori up rather effectively. "May I have a word?"
Oh bloody blast it! No, you may not have a word... but there I already get dragged along by him and several other nobles. For the rest of the day there's always someone bothering either me or Rori or both with politics and I show interest in things I couldn't care about less. We make haste, pushing man and beast to their limits. Everybody knows what's at stake although I doubt many of them realize what evil they will have to face.
When I finally get the chance to talk to Rori I am so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. We just crawl into our tent and collapse on the bed, not much caring that we still wear our boots and clothes. Taking off the armour already proves quite a challenge and I just drop the pieces where I stand.
"So what's wrong?" I murmur, yawning as I snuggle against my beloved fellow Warden. I've wondered about her encounter with Morrigan all day long. There was something she wanted to tell me. It sounded important.
"Well... the heir problem, you know..." Rori begins hesitantly as she draws patterns on my chest with her index finger.
"Rori, really, that's nothing you should worry about now," I mumble, already half asleep. "After the Blight, well, we'll see. The fight with the archdemon alreay gives me a headache. Don't need to add any more worries about a baby."
"Oh... but..." Rori says right before sleep overpowers me.
When I ask her the next morning, apologizing that I passed out on her, she claims there's nothing of importance. "Stress, exhaustion. I overreacted when Morrigan offered to... help me, that's it. I have to talk to Kardol. He and his men are worried that they could fall into the sky. See you later." And of she rides, leaving me alone with - Sten.
Awesome. At least I won't have to converse.
And that's when His Grumpiness goes: "You accepted your duty. I didn't expect this,"
"I am full of surprises. Don't let it get around. I got a reputation," I mutter, earning myself one of those typical Sten glares. Yeah, I'm a moron. "So I suppose once I'm actually king I could end up in negotiations with the Qunari one day," I intend to break the uncomfortable silence. It can't hurt to learn a bit more about the Qun or whatever they call their weird philosophy.
"My people do not negotiate."
"What do you mean?" I wonder. "They negotiated a peace treaty after the war, and as far as I know they've kept to its terms."
"They signed a piece of paper. But only because they knew that you believed in it."
"And what is the difference between that and negotiating?"
"They stopped fighting for their own reasons. And they will resume it again, one day. The agreement means nothing to them."
They fooled us?
Charming.
"But I thought you said your people believed in honour." I am utterly confused now. All this talk about honour and duty, what is it worth when the Qunari don't give a damn about it?
"They do. The honour of the Qunari is what will bring our warships back to your shores."
What!? But... oh! Qunari! I will never understand them. Thankfully darkspawn are far simplier.
"Well, thanks for the warning, I guess," I mutter. Maker! Qunari are creepy! No wonder the archdemon didn't choose Par Vollen to make its appearance. The Qunari probably scared it away.
"Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile," I intone in a monotonous voice when Rori returns.
"What?"
"Nevermind."
It's the last night before the battle. We pushed ourselves to our limits to reach Denerim as fast as possible, realizing that every hour could be essential. Utterly exhausted, we have set up the warcamp on the plains outside Denerim for a last time. The capital is not yet in sight which is certainly much better for the morals. The soldiers are scared already, we do not need them to watch a burning city crammed with darkspawn and contemplate their own fate.
Tomorrow we will reach the city, tomorrow we will either succeed or perish.
Now, ain't I looking forward to that?
Well, actually, I am. Looking forward to it, I mean. Not like I am giddy about dying. But the pressure has been weighing me down for days and I wish for an end... preferably one where the archdemon is dead and I am still alive. And Rori of course.
She's been uncharacteristically silent but so have I - when I didn't have to shout out moral-boosting-slogans like a fishwife praising her goods at the market.
It's the calm before the storm. The war camp lies quiet, only hushed whispers can be heard from time to time - and that's mostly prayers. It makes me want to scream to get rid of the tension pressing against my ribcage. I know I should rest but sleep is the last thing on my mind. Even finding comfort in Rori's presence seems impossible tonight. I am almost glad when Riordan summons Rori and me for a last briefing.
He meets us on a small hill outside the warcamp where nobody can be big-eared - accidentally or on purpose. A cold wind chases dark clouds across the sky, grey with a reddish glow seeping into the increasing darkness. It looks as if it's bleeding. Just to top it we witness a red moon rising when the sun finally sets.
"I'm scared," Rori whispers hoarsely when we approach Riordan, standing still as a statue, his eyes distant and full of sorrow. "Feels like being lead to the slaughter. Like when you took me to the old temple in Ostagar for my Joining."
"And you were the only one to survive," I say, intertwining my fingers with hers when she reaches for my hand. "That's a good omen, right?"
"From your lips to the Maker's ears."
"You're both here. Good," Riordan turns to face us, his expression anxious but grave."You're new to the Grey Wardens and you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so."
"You mean there's more to it than just, say, chopping off its head?" That actually sounds rather fatal to me.
"Burn its remains and scatter its ashes?" Rori suggests hopefully.
"So it is true. Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed," Riordan sighs. He is a man with a heavy burden that he is about to drop on us. "Tell me, have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?"
"Are we here for guesswork?" Rori snaps irritatedly, discomposed by the severity of Riordan's behaviour. Her fingers tighten around mine - but it can't hide she's trembling.
"The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn," Riordan explains patiently. "But should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough. The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal." He pauses to let that piece of information sink in. Oh Blast! Rori was right, we are not going to like this. Not at all. "But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden its essence travels into the Grey Warden, instead," Riordan goes on once he is sure we understand.
"Eww... this doesn't sound healthy..." Rori mutters. With her hands pressed to her belly, she's slightly bent forward as if she was about to get violently sick. Can't blame her. I don't feel any better at the moment.
"The darkspawn is an empty soulless vessel but a Grey Warden is not," Riordan says, his voice calm. "The essence of the archdemon is destroyed and so is the Grey Warden."
"Meaning... the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon... dies?" I ask, surprised at how composed I sound.
"Yes." Riordan confirms. "Without the archdemon the Blight ends. It is the only way."
Strangely his confession doesn't make me despair. Somehow I have always felt it's how it would end. How it has to end. I can see the path laid out for me clearly now, the duty that demands the sacrifice of one life for a greater good. There's a serenity taking hold of me, giving me the strength to accept my fate.
Rori - well, that's a different story.
"No!" she cries, lunging herself at Riordan, shoving him and drumming her small fists at his chest.
"I am sorry. But it is the only way," Riordan repeats calmly as he grabs her wrists to stop her. Rori just kicks his shin instead.
"Whoa! Rori! Calm down. There's nothing we can do about this now," I soothe her - rather unsuccessfully - when pulling her away from Riordan. She fights against my arms locked around her, kicks and screams.
"That's... that's not fair! I do not want to die! Not like that! Not now!" She bursts into tears. "You bastard! They never told us! They never even gave us a warning! I cannot... You cannot make me! I'm pre..." The word gets stuck in her throat and with horrified realization she gasps: "There's only three of us to kill this thing." Her legs don't support her anymore and she sinks to the ground, a picture of misery.
I'm not sure what I expected of her... certainly not to break down like this. It's quite unsettling. Sure, Rori's strength originates from her stubborn belief that she will have a future. Usually she manages to keep cool and just give things a try. She's an expert in cheating death - if anybody survives this Blight, then it's Rori. I will make sure of this - cost what it may.
I sit down next to her, wrapping her in my arms and pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Hey, chin up when the water's up to your neck. We'll get through this together."
Rori stares at me as if I lost my mind. "But... there's only three of us!"
"Exactly!" I cheer. "The odds are in our favour that we get stomped into the ground by an ogre or fried by the spell of an emissary before we even get to see the archdemon."
"Oh Maker..." Rori groans. "I think... I'm going to be sick..." No sooner said than done!
"In Blights past, when the time came the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow. If possible the final blow should be mine to make," Riordan explains softly, crouching next to her. He's offering hope where there isn't any. But Rori is desperate. She clutches at straws.
"But if I fail the deed falls on you. The Blight must be stopped now or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that." Like Duncan Riordan is a good judge of character, it seems. There's no harsh words. No lecture about duty. When he speaks, he does not preach though his tone is urgent.
Rori nods slowly. "Point taken." She's a whiter shade of pale, a haunted look has settled in her eyes. I have to help her back to her feet and lead her to the warcamp. She's brooding, her mind racing to find a solution. I already know what she will suggest when she abruptly stops in the looming shadows of the first tents at the outskirts of the warcamp.
"We... we could run away...," she breathes. "Go someplace where nobody knows us..."
"Good plan, we could go to Orlais, live in sin and eat cake until the darkspawn finally catches up towards us." We both know this won't happen. I couldn't live like this, and despite her fear and despair gnawing at her, Rori knows she couldn't either.
"Our luck and all the other Grey Wardens there die of food poisoning and again we are the only ones to deal with that oversized lizard," Rori sighs, hugging herself. "I'm sorry, Alistair. Everybody wants me to be a hero... but all I wish for is to stay alive and be with you. Oh Maker! Listen to me! Enough whining! Doesn't get me anywhere, right? Better make it a show they will never forget and face the curtain with a bow, huh?" Offering a sheepish grin, she angrily wipes her nose at her sleeve. "I have to pee. Be right back." And off she runs and for a brief moment I wonder if I will ever see her again.
"Shame on you, Alistair!" I mutter and, turning, find myself face to face with Morrigan. So not my day... Her glare is icy and calculating as she sizes me up. My grin is foolish... well, business as usual. Some things never change.
"Where's Rori?" the witch asks coolly. I gladly point her into the right direction. Whatever will get me rid of her. I turn to leave when Morrigan calls my name: "Alistair!"
"Yeah, I know, I know, I'm a fool," I mutter, finally overpowered by Riordan's revelation. I tried not to let this happen, but Rori gave me hope that now fails. When Duncan recruited me I thought: This is it! I am home, at long last. But then Rori came along and turned my world upside down - in an adorable, exuberant, passionate way. I finally lived my life... Guess it's not worthy a king to throw himself into the mud and drum his fists on the ground and howl and bawl?
"Tis decided then, the three of you will face the archdemon? You will not wait for the reinforcement from Orlais?"
"They would never be here in time. Even if they had griffons they would not make it. So yes, it's Rori, Riordan and I." I say tiredly, wishing Morrigan would go away. "Rori isn't exactly thrilled about this turn of events. Can't say I am."
"She's going to fight?" Morrigan gasps.
"Of course she will. She's a Grey Warden." Sure, Rori is afraid. She is desperate. But she will do what has to be done - in case she's the last one standing.
"Blast and damnation!" I watch Morrigan rush off as if the archdemon itself was on her heels. Huh? What was that all about? Maker! I really don't want to spend my last few hours worrying my brain about Morrigan.
I need some rest now. Time to contemplate. Time I hope to spend with the woman I love. But she keeps me waiting. And when she finally bursts through the entrance of our tent, completely distraught, it's nothing like I would have expected.
And there I thought that night couldn't get worse! Boy, was I wrong!
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In good times and in bad

Notes:

Chapter Text