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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
- 97
- 98
- 99
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Chapter 98
Fires block our direct way to Fort Drakon, so we hurry up the hill towards the Palace District. The city stretches below us, the glow of the fire turns the water blood red. The burning ships at the pier illuminate a scene of horror... The Mac Eanraigs' line of defense has broken and the beasts swarm the pier, slaughtering anybody in their way. Angus Mac Eanraig is clearly visible against the red sky, a man like a giant, standing on top of the barricade of piled carts and boxes, sacks and furniture. His battle axe chops down darkspawn unceasingly, he's fighting his last stand when all hope fails. The Mac Eanraig triplets form a trinity of defense and yet neither their courage nor Jessica's magic can save them. They get swept away by the mere mass of darkspawn. An ogre grabs Ronan around his waist and just breaks him in two as if he was a twig, then tosses him aside like garbage...
The screams of the trapt people below echo through the night, rising above the battle cries and the roaring of the fires. They run but there's no way out for them. Chased by the darkspawn people jump into the sea to save themselves. For many it becomes a wet grave. Bloated corpses float on the water next to men and women and children clinging to whatever they could get hold of. Smaller boats careen and sink when the desperate try to climb on board of the already crowded boats.
"We have to help them!" Rori shouts, starting downhill. It's the second time she has to watch her family being slaughtered and there's nothing she can do about it.
I can get hold of her before she gets lost in the chaos. "We help them by slaying the archdemon," I insist, feeling like a complete jerk at the sight of her tears. "The sooner the better!" Maker's Breath! It's decisions like this I never wanted to make. My heart tells me to run to their aid, but what feels right is not necessarily the right thing to do. Not in this case. Blast it!
"Alistair, please!" Rori drums her small fists against my breast plate as I hold her as tight as possible. She kicks at me and squirms, a faltering attempt to break free when she realizes that she cannot change their fates...
"Gilmore and Perth are on their way..."
"They will never be there in time!" Rori cries desperatedly when Angus is hit by several arrows and tumbles down the barricade. Her luck she has to sober up right now.
"Neither will we," I whisper sadly, embracing her. There's no comfort there to offer but a whole lot of platitudes. She certainly would kick me if I gave her a preach about bravery and heroism. So I just kiss her brow, gently wipe her tears away and turn her around, pointing the direction of Fort Drakon. She needs someone to blame, it's right there. She staggers a few steps, before straightening - and still she moves as if she had the weight of the world weighing her down, every step an effort, her small frame shaken by her sobs.
"Zev? Shrooms?" Rori mutters, tears streaming down her cheeks as she presents her palm to the elf. His mouth full, he looks like a chipmunk.
"Hmph," he goes, then spits the thoroughly chewed content into Rori's hand.
"Ewww!" Rori squeaks. "Thank you but no thank you! I'm not that desperate! Not yet." Zevran shrugs and like a dog slobbers the mud-shrooms off her hand before Rori can drop the whole mess onto the ground. "Oh well..." She casts one last look at the harbour before turning away with desperate determination. "There is no way but forward and that leads towards death," Rori murmurs faintheartedly. I take her hand, squeezing it lightly. "How does that sound?" she sighs. "Famous last words, huh?"
"Sounds rather pathetic. Not your style." I nudge her side, she nudges back.
"Oh bloody blast it," Rori hisses, wiping her nose at her sleeve. "What are we waiting for? Time to slay that sodding dragon!" She cocks her head to one side, grinning sadly. "Better?"
"Much better."
The palace of Denerim is rather fancy considering Fereldan standards. It for sure isn't a fortress so it's no surprise the darkspawn have overrun the guards some time ago and are now trying to break into the palace itself. An ogre is halfway stuck in a window, darkspawn crawl over it to reach the upper floors and cause havoc inside the palace. People run around, screaming, while Sergeant Kylon and his remaining men lose ground with every second passing. When we storm into the court, I collide with a fleeing woman. She drops her bundle and silver spoons, plates, goblets, a candle holder - all bearing the Theirin crest - clatter onto the cobblestones.
"Goldanna!" I exclaim, identifying the woman crawling around on the ground and stuffing her precious treasure back into her bundle. "You steal my silverware? Now?"
"You!" my dear not-really-sister snaps, straightening, her arms loaded with my royal silver. "This is all your fault! If you had treated me as I deserved..." And that's when Rori punches her straight in the face. The silver clinks to the ground again and Goldanna, tumbling against the wall, clutches her bleeding nose.
"The day's looking up already," Rori says with grim satisfaction.
"Thank you," I grin.
"You're welcome."
There's more important things to deal with than Goldanna stealing my silver, so we leave her be to slay some more darkspawn instead. Kylon almost cries with relief at our arrival. Next to him Ser Cauthrien swings her sword with adamant determination. She can hardly stand upright, her left arm is dangling uselessly at her side only attached to the rest of her body by a few tendons - and still she fights.
"For Ferelden!" she cries when we join her. "Hail King Alistair!" Her cry is answered by exactly thriteen throats - that's all the men she still got - and they lunge into battle with refreshed spirit and courage. I'm astonished at her reaction. She has to know what happened to Loghain, what I did. Still she is here, defending Ferelden in the name of the newly minted king.
"For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!" I shout, leading my small troup into battle.
Rori and Zevran climb the ogre stuck in the window, following its companions. Seconds later the first darkspawn get tossed out of the windows. Oghren and Barkley rush to Kylon's aid while I join Cauthrien's side. She's on her knees, defending herself with her last strength. Shale exercises the discipline of darkspawn long throw. She grabs one by its feet, swings it, turning round and round and then sends it flying across the palace wall and high up into the sky.
I drop to my knees into the puddle of blood next to Ser Cauthrien as soon as the fight is over, holding her in my arms while Rori takes her hand and Wynne casts her spells. According to the mage's worried expression there's hardly anything she can still do for the wounded knight. Cauthrien is deadly pale, her breathing comes as a gurgling wheeze, the glimmer in her eyes fades.
"Your Majesty," Cauthrien croaks, blood spluttering from her mouth at every word. "I wanted to make things right," she breathes, forcing the words across her trembling lips. "So many mistakes, so many crimes... all in Loghain's name."
"Hush. You fought bravely, Ser Cauthrien," I whisper. "You are a true knight of Ferelden, heart and soul. Loghain would be proud of you. I am proud of you. I wish... we could have met under different circumstances."
"Me, too." Her blood smeared lips form to a small, shy smile, then a spasm runs through her whole body and she become limp in my arms.
"No!" Rori gasps. "Wynne! You have to help her!"
"I did what I could," the granny mage says exhaustedly. "Her fate now lies in the Maker's hands. If He pleases, she will live. All we can do is pray and hope."
"The Maker gives a damn about any of us!" Rori snaps forcefully. Covered in blood and ichor head to toe, tired, exhausted and emotionally drained, last thing she wants to hear is a sermon with words that sound nothing but empty to her. Can't blame her. These are times to lose ones faith.
"We are here for a reason, my dear child," Wynne says softly. "The Maker guides our steps to fulfill our destiny. We are His tools in this world and through us He protects His children."
"Garbage!"Rori snorts, tempted to show Wynne the same kindness she offered Goldanna. "I for sure neither feel guided nor protected. If we don't get things done, nobody will."
Boy, she's hopping mad now. We all got something that keeps us going. Wynne has her faith, Oghren his liquor, Zevran got shrooms, I got my duty and Rori has her anger. Shale... well, Shale gets to squish a whole lot of soft flesh creatures which is certainly more entertaining than standing around on a village square day in, day out.
Reluctantly we leave Ser Cauthrien in Sergeant Kylon's care. Their odds are long to survive this night. More darkspawn will soon arrive at the palace and there's nobody left to fight them. Their only chance is us slaying the archdemon as soon as possible...
Fort Drakon rises into the sky like a huge...
"What is it with you surfacers? All these huge erect buildings... You try to compensate something?" Oghren grunts.
... err... Nevermind.
"Don't you feel sick and tired of towers by now?" Rori groans. "Every tower we went to, was crammed with trouble first floor to the top."
"It ends as it began," I observe.
"It began with a defeat," Rori presses through gritted teeth. "Let's make it a victory this time!"
I hug her, kissing the top of her head. "That's my girl," I grin, glad to have my kick-ass gingersnaps at my side.
"I still think we should have gone to Orlais, lived in sin and eaten cake," Rori sulks. "It was the best idea you ever had."
Shale works as a portable battle ram, crashing down the front gates and the darkspawn guarding it in one go.
I really didn't think Fort Drakon could get even more unpleasant than it was during our last visit. Well, life always has a surprise in store. Corpses everywhere, blood splattered across the floors, walls, even the damn ceiling. The obligatory fires, the stench... well, you get the picture. Just one thing is different... the death silence.
Now, what can I say? Darkspawn, darkspawn and yep, more darkspawn. They've moved in and made themselves at home - I wouldn't recommend their interior decorator, though - and we throw them out again, cleansing every floor thoroughly. Last thing we want is an army in our back when we reach the top of the tower.
We burst into the next room, weapons drawn, magic sizzling from Wynne's staff - and get pounced by something short covered in ichor and blood. It clings to my leg, hugging it tightly.
"Rori! Alibear! Puppy!"
"Huh!? Sandal!? Maker's Breath! I almost chopped your head off!" I breathe, shaking the young dwarf off. He happily bounces around the room with Barkley, playing fetch the stick with a torn off arm.
"Crazy nug-licker," Oghren grunts. "That's what too many deep mushrooms do to your brain, son, just blow your mind out." Zevran coughs nervously before sticking his finger down his throat. "But for the love of nugs and idiot children, bucking the forbidden horse when stoned is the sodding best romp you'll ever have..." Zevran re-swallows the whole sludge he just disgorged.
It proves impossible to worm any information out of Sandal, simply because he is blissfully oblivious of the danger he is in. Well, he and Bodahn get their wares mostly from the Deep Roads and that's where the dwarven merchant found his adopted son, so darkspawn obviously is so normal to him, he's not scared. Strangely the beasts also don't bother him.
"Enchantment?" he cheers when Rori tells him to hide somewhere. And then he waddles after us as we move on, following us like a puppy.
The darkspawn have made short work of both guards and inmates. After all those broken down doors it's a mircale we find one yet intact. Two Hurlocks have picked up a Genlock like a ram and smash its head against the door repeatedly. From inside the cell sound the screams of a woman... her voice is somewhat familiar.
"Thank the Maker!" Anora calls through the closed door once the Hurlocks lie dead. "I would greet you properly if only you opened the door!"
"This day is so full of déjà-vus," I observe.
"Yeah, next she's going to tell us an emissary magically sealed the door and the archdemon swallowed it afterwards so now we have to retrieve it from its stomach," Rori giggles.
"What are you giggling about!?" Anora demands to know, her pale face appearing at the small barred window of the door. "This is not funny! Open the door already! There's darkspawn everywhere! They killed everybody!"
"Now you mention it...," I grin while Rori picks the lock.
"The darkspawn have overrun the city," she informs Anora as soon as the former queen steps out of her cell. Even in the midst of a darkspawn siege, she is perfect in her appearance. "The archdemon is sitting on top of Fort Drakon and we have to slay it now or never."
"The archdemon!" Anora gasps, her face drained off all colour.
"As large as life," I confirm.
"Either you come with us and stay out of the way or you're on your own," Rori goes on. "Your decision."
"The city is lost!" Anora screeches, furiously pointing her finger at me and Rori. "This would have never happened if my father..."
It's punch-the-bitch-day for Rori. She grabs Anora's finger, bends it backwards and same time slams her fist into the ex-queen's face.
"You know, I might have been wrong about the Maker after all," she muses while Anora whines and clutches her bleeding nose. Her perfect looks destroyed she now at least fits in. "At least I get to kick all the sodding pissy bitch asses I always wanted to kick before I die. That's very considerate of Him."
"Language," Wynne sighs. "Don't even get me started on the blasphemy!"
"How dare you!" Anora complains. I'm not sure if she means Zevran helping her back to her feet and in the process groping her hindquarters or Rori punching her.
"Get over it! If this is the worst that happens to you today, you can call yourself lucky." Rori snaps, picking up one of the swords the guards have dropped and thrusting it at Anora. She clumsily weighs it in her hands. Maker! The greatest general Ferelden ever had and he didn't teach his daughter how to distinguish the hilt from the blade! We should lock her up again and throw the key away. This cell is the safest place she could be. "So, you want to try it on your own or come with us?"
"How does one make such a decision?" Anora wonders. "I... I think I could hide somewhere..."
"This is uncharacteristically wise of you," I tease with a lopsided grin, earning myself a scathing glare. "And while you're hiding, could you babysit Sandal for us?" My hands on his shoulders, I push the kid forward.
"Enchantment?" the dwarf rejoices.
"You want me to look after this retard!?" Anora is completely indignant at the mere thought.
"This retard is a dwarven prince and a Paragon. He's the best natural enchanter Thedas has ever seen," Rori flat-out lies to the ex-queen, ignoring Oghren snorting his drink out of his nose at her words. "King Belhen certainly would appreciate if we returned him save and sound."
"You really think I would believe such a blatant lie?" Anora huffs.
"When cornered by a horde of darkspawn, you cannot be picky about your companions," Rori points out.
"Obviously," Anora remarks, pointedly regarding the drunken dwarf, the stoned elf, the granny mage, the golem in red sandals and me. Rori clenches her fist to punch her again and that very much helps Anora to make up her mind. "Fine, he can come with me!"
Rori takes off her necklace with the vial of poison. Ever since we found out how the darkspawn turns women into broodmothers, she has been taking precautions. There's worse fates than death. "Here. If the darkspawn catches you, drink this."
"Poison? This is how you plan to get rid of me?"
"Don't be absurd!" Rori snorts, kneeling down to hug Sandal and tousle his hair. He beams at her joyously. "Farewell Sandal. Good luck, Anora. You'll need it."
"Good luck," Anora calls after us after a long, long moment of hesitation. "May the Maker watch over you!"
"May He watch over us all," I mutter.
Two ogres later we stand right in front of the large double doors leading to the roof of Fort Drakon and thus to the archdemon. It's only a piece of wood seperating us from our destiny.
"Alright, so here we are...," Rori begins, her voice a little too high and trembling. She clears her throat, clenches her fists and straightens. "Oh bloody blast it! It's time to kick the archdemon's ass back to where it came from. Just don't kick too hard. The finishing blow has to be performed by a Grey Warden... or we can start all over again. Got it?"
Zevran raises his hand like in school. "Alas, my sweet Fereldan rose, what if none of you two is left to kill the beast?"
"Then you are totally fucked."
"Ah, I somewhat thought you'd say that," the elf slurs merrily. "Now, my darling Wynne, this is your last chance. There is no reason to deny yourself the pleasure of male companionship, after all, yes? I am right here!" He spreads his arms wide, a huge grin from ear to ear adorning his face as he sways his hips to the rhythm of a music only he can hear.
Wynne's eyes almost pop out of their sockets. For a moment she's slack-slackjawed. Then, with much effort, she firmly closes her mouth again and her eyes. She inhales deeply as to steady herself. "I am going to walk away now. Calmly. Coolly. This is to save you the pain of having your brain forcibly removed through your ears." She turns on her heels and marches off to stand at the far end of the room. Zevran saunters after her.
"I am so confused. I think I may cry. May I lay my head in your bosom?" he whines, following Wynne across the room when she flees his approach.
Wynne lets out a cry of frustration. "No! No! You may not!"
"But it is a marvelous bosom. I have seen women half your age who have not held up half so well. Perhaps it is a magical bosom?"
"Stop... talking about my bosom! This is a serious moment, a grave moment! We are about to make history!" She beats the lecherous elf over the head with her staff to finally get rid of him, before turning to Rori and me. "Whatever happens now to either of us," she says solemnly, taking one of mine and one of Rori's into her hands. "Know that I am proud - infinitely proud - to have called both of you 'friend'."
"I'm the one to feel honoured and proud and lucky and... oh bloody blast it!" Rori just hugs the older woman tight. "Don't you dare to die, Wynne!"
"If I had a granny, I'd want her to be like you," I mutter as I get my cheeks pinched.
"Onward then!" Wynne shoos us away when tears begin to sting in her eyes. "And may the Maker smile fortune upon us."
"Well, this is it, kiddos," Oghren grunts. "I sodding salute you!" He lifts his flask and downs whatever is left in it. "Let's show them our hearts and then - show them theirs. Come on here, kiddos, let old Oghren give you a hug!" He hugs me - briefly - then hugs Rori - his face pressed right at her bosom - until she stomps on his foot to have him let go of her.
"So the archdemon is next, is it?" Shale sighs as she shoves Oghren aside with a twist of her wrist. "I am... glad it will end here, but also apprehensive. I would almost say I feel concerned for something other than myself. Even maybe for a soft squishy companion... and her whiny appendix. But that would be silly, wouldn't it?"
"Thank you Shale, I appreciate the thought," Rori grins, knocking her knuckles against the golem's broad stony chest.
"The appendix is somewhat touched, too," I chuckle.
"And, err... do try not to get swallowed whole. If the beast would have flyed about afterwards and poop it out, irony would dictate that it would land on me." Shale pauses, a shudder running through her. "I couldn't take it."
"I'd never do that to you," Rori promises, smiling affectionately at the talking statue.
"So time to say hello to the archdemon, my dear friends!" Standing between us Zevran wraps his arms around Rori's and my waist. "And do watch your back. No getting eaten - unless you think it's really important of course."
"I thought it was your job to watch our backs," Rori teases.
"Indeed, that's what I'm here for." He presses a kiss to Rori's cheek, then smacks her and my hindquarters, making us both jump.
I inhale deeply. "Ready?" I ask, my palms pressed against the door. Rori shakes her head, pulling me close for a kiss. She has a way to keep my spirits high. I press her flush against me, wrapping my arms around her tightly. Her soft lips move against mine, her tongue feels like hot velvet in my mouth, engaging mine in a sensual dance. She tastes of sage and the scent of verbena lingers on her despite all the blood and gore and sweat. She clings to me when the kiss ends, her breath brushing gently against my skin as she whispers in my ear.
"My mother decided to give up her life when she stayed with my dying father. I never understood until now. Jory was a coward in my eyes, but now I am here, I realize how he felt about leaving behind his wife and unborn child. Isolde sacrificed her people to keep what she loves most in this world. I shouldn't have judged her. We have more in common than I want to admit..." Rori leans back to look me in the eyes, her blue orbs filled with the warmth of her love and with a deep felt sorrow. "I love you, Alistair. Everything I do, I do it for you."
"Ditto," I whisper hoarsely, my voice not sounding like my own. Morrigan's words echo in my mind. Blast, we really should have gone to Orlais when we still got the chance.
"Well, good thing we talked about it." Rori's grin looks rather forced, a failing attempt to hide her mortal fear. "Now, let the archdemon feel the power of love!"
"You still got that rose?" I laugh on kicking the door open. Maker! I do sound like having hysterics!
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In good times and in bad