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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
- 98
- 99
- 100
Notes:

So this is it. The last chapter. I do hope you enjoyed reading. Thank you very much for following Rori and Alistair through this story. Über-big thanks to Notevensorry and Erusel for their awesome art. Thanks to Notevensorry for her pre-reads. Thank you all for all the lovely comments, for your support, for some extra ideas, for the votes.
After this final chapter there will be two bonus chapters. One about the Redcliffe battle (I felt there was something missing after rereading the whole story) and one for the Gnawed Noble. The Redcliffe one I will post right after this final chapter. It will take the position of Chapter 10 - Castle of the Walking Dead.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text
"It looked somewhat smaller last time I saw it. Less ugly, too. And it was pink."
"You were high on deep mushrooms."
"That explains a lot."
The archdemon is a huge beast, maggots crawling beneath its rotten skin, puss and ichor dripping from its wounds, hissing like acid when hitting the ground. It is spiked by several arrows but its worst wound is on its back, reaching from its neck to its tail where Riordan sunk in his blade. The arm of a soldier got caught between the beast's teeth, dangling from its mouth as if waving his Goodbye! at us whenever the archdemon roars.
It seems like an eternity but we actually only burst through the door a moment ago, witnessed how the beast made short work of some very brave and now very dead soldiers and then turned towards us. It spat the owner of the arm at us, almost knocking me over. This is a very very angry archdemon and killing it won't be a walk in the park despite it being injured. I'd wet my pants if I had time for being afraid. As it is I am far too busy staying alive to worry about dying.
Right now Rori, Barkley and I are seeking cover behind a low wall while the archdemon breathes blue fire upon us.
There's blood and ichor everywhere around us, corpses or parts of corpses litter the floor, smashed and broken, ripped apart or burnt... I really do not want to take a closer look or think about it. I'd run for the hills, screaming, if I did.
"It really can't stand us," I observe, holding my shield over our heads for more protection against the heat of the archdemon's fiery breath.
"The feeling is mutual," Rori snorts, angrily examining her scorched hair. "One year to grow it back and now look what this oversized lizard did!"
"Rori, if it's only your hair it sets on fire you can call yourself damn lucky," I chuckle. That's what she gets for wearing no helmet.
"It scorched yours, too..."
"WHAT!?" I feel around on my head with my free hand. "Did it ruin my hair style? How bad is it? Do I have a bald spot? Maker! Tell me this is not true!" Blast! That's what I get for wearing no helmet.
"Do you want to sit there all day and mourn your hair?" Wynne shouts at us, running past while firing spells at the dragon.
"Talk is cheap, Wynne!" Rori retorts. "You still got all your hair... A distraction would be nice... Whoa! Alistair!"
The archdemon's head appears right above us - only we can't see it until it's too late and the beast's jaws clench around my shield, lifting shield and me off the ground. I am stuck with my arm, unable to let go and the blasted dragon shakes its huge head, swinging me like a dead cat while I shriek like a stuck pig. And I don't have a sword because I dropped it to check on my hair.
Marvellous!
My arm feels as if getting ripped off and every time the beast swings to the left I can see the arm of the soldier sticking out between its teeth, waving at me frantically.
Oh happy day!
"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"
"Alistair! Hang on!" Rori shouts as she charges the beast.
Really, what does she think I am doing?
"Alistair, my royal friend, never say die!" Zevran chimes in merrily.
With friends like that, who needs enemies?
"HUUUUUURRRRYYYYYYY! ARRRRRGHHHHH!"
Finally Shale rips one of the statues at the gates off its dais and hauls it towards the archdemon, hitting the side of its head. Roaring it lets go of me and I slam down on Oghren trying to catch me.
Oghren grunts when I roll off him. Ignoring the pain in my dislocated shoulder, I lunge forward, grab my sword from Rori and hit at the beast's legs before it remembers I'm actually there. For now it blasts balls of blue fire at Shale and the golem returns the favour by having the second statue follow the first.
I dive sideways to dodge the head of the statue crushing down, and the archdemon flaps its mighty wings, sending the elf and ginger down as it flees to the other side of the tower.
"Hey, little pike-twirler, your arm looks funny," Oghren observes, poking my shield arm uselessly dangling at my side.
Before we run towards the other side of the tower, Wynne takes care of my shoulder, sending a sharp pain down my arm. I wince and whine and Rori presses a peck to my cheek and pats my shoulder - the hurting one - absentmindedly as she regards the dragon thoughtfully.
"We do need a plan..."
Rori's plan is as simple as it is suicidal. I doubt it actually deserves to be named a plan. Let's call it desperate meassures. We all charge at once from different angles. Wynne stays in the background and blasts the few battle spells she knows at the beast. I never thought I would ever miss Morrigan but her elemental magic would come in handy right now. Especially since the archdemon of course chooses me as a target. Not that big a surprise since I am a Grey Warden. Sure, there's Rori but she looks like a pipsqueak next to me. She's the niblet, I'm the main course. Archdemon logic.
So I am busy not to get fried and eaten while Oghren just hurries past me, chopping at the archdemon's legs. Shale is hit by its tail but instead of sending her flying, she clings to it, giving Rori the chance to climb on top of the beast and stab her blades into the already bleeding flesh at its back.
The archdemon throws its head back and roars in pain. It soars into the air with Rori still on its back, slumping down at the other side of the tower again. Angrily it snaps its jaws at her, craning its neck to get hold of her, wiggling its tail the same time to throw her off. Rori just clings to the hilts of her swords and keeps her head low.
Small but feisty. This will teach the archdemon a lesson it won't forget.
This also is the best opportunity we had so far to actually aim a decent blow or two. Distracted by Rori the archdemon doesn't pay any attention to what's happening at its front. Too bad that's exactly when its darkspawn minions appear to finally help their boss.
Thankfully Eamon, Irving and Kardol with his buddies arrive the same time to start a mass brawl. Irving stands in the doorway, leaning on his staff for support. "Stairs," he croaks, already summoning his magic. "I knew there would be stairs!"
"Ha! You whine like the little-pike twirler, shivelling simp he is," Oghren chuckles.
"Hey! That's lese majesty!"
Mental note to myself: Pee into Oghren's drink whenever I get a chance - if I ever get a chance. Right now I am involuntarily giving a Genlock a piggyback ride. I try to shake it off, it tries to bite my throat, pulling my head back by my hair to get access to my neck. I let myself fall backwards and it finally lets go. That's when a shriek appears out of nowhere. I roll off the Genlock and the shriek's claws dig into its fellow darkspawn.
"Why do you occasionally refer to Alistair as a little pike-twirler?" Wynne wonders aloud while beating the blasted shriek over the head with her staff.
"Why? Has the little pike-twirler taken offence?" Oghren shouts, chopping off the legs of darkspawn as if he was cutting down trees.
The little pike-twirler meanwhile is busy avoiding to get trampled by the archdemon. It bucks like a horse and sends Rori flying like a girl-sized canon ball, tossed towards the edge of the tower.
"Rori!" I dart forward in a desperate attempt to catch her before she sails over the edge, but a Genlock trips me up - only to get stomped down by the golem a heartbeat later. Shale elbows her way across the battlefield, a mass of stone in stampede trampling anything in her way. Roaring she leaps into the air, turns in her jump and with outstretched arms plucks Rori out of the air just in time before she falls off the tower. The impact sends both woman and statue down. Rori hits the ground hard, quickly rolling aside when the floor gives way and Shale is stuck to her waist. While I still wonder how we ever will get her out of that hole again, the archdemon locks its jaws around the golem and pulls it out. Rori just in time scrambles away, crawling on hands and knees. One hand pressed to her belly, she collapses, cringing in pain. The archdemon quickly figures that swinging Shale around doesn't really work and when it spits the golem out some dragon teeth clatter to the ground.
Meanwhile the granny mage and the dwarf discuss my pike-twirling habits. Really, it's none of their business when, where and how often I twirl my pike! And don't they have a pile of things to do?
"It's just a curious description" Wynne shouts, jumping over me still lying on the ground. The archdemon has taken refuge on the far side of the tower, a huge gap in the ground preventing our approach. Rori is back to her feet but swaying so badly, she slumps down again several times before she finally manages to join us. I want to take care of her. But there's just too many darkspawn pressing in on us. So although she looks like fainting, she raises her blades and defends herself. The leather of her pants has turned darker at her thighs as if it was wet.
"Curious?" Oghren snorts, turning like a spin top armed with a battle axe. "Bah, it's entirely true. What, you haven't seen him twirling his pike?"
Sure, go on talking about me as if I wasn't there! And all that while the world is ending and darkspawn is flooding the top of the blasted tower and we fight our last stand and try to figure out how to get to that thrice-cursed darkspawn boss. Shale offers to toss us all across the gap but Rori, still rather green in the face, refuses. Groaning, she clutches her belly but stops me with a wave of her hand when I start fussing. Well, as much as you can fuss with a shriek determined to rip your guts out.
"Goes at it when he thinks no one's watching," Oghren chuckles as he explains my weird pike-twirling habits to the granny mage in between slaying our enemies. "Knocks about in the trees like there's no tomorrow." Oghren himself knocks about amongst the darkspawn and there for sure is no tomorrow for them. "Caught him just the other day. Blushed all the way down to his navel, then couldn't find his shirt. I swear he's going to hurt himself one of these days, the way he works that thing."
"Hey!" I mutter sullenly. "All this pressure and tension. A man has to find a way to release it!" And try to skulk off with a royal guard stuck at your heels! I once dipsy-doodled through the camp just to see if they would follow my every step. They did. It was rather funny until we all ran into Eamon... He can be such a spoilsport.
Wynne's face is bright red. All this fighting and running has to be specially exhausting for her being so old. "I don't want to hear this anymore, do I?" she mutters, avoiding to look at me.
"One really should think Rori keeps him entertained..." Zevran wiggles his eyebrows at me and nudges my side, then pirouettes to stab a darkspawn.
"I keep telling him, pikes are for sticking things at long range, aye?" Oghren pants when pulling his axe free from a darkspawn's skull. "Horses and such. Not for twirling like a sissy-girl."
"HEY! I don't twirl like a sissy-girl! A pike is a very manly weapon! And I handle it like a man!" I pout while slamming my shield against a shriek when Rori sends it stumbling backwards. It stumbles again, forwards this time and right onto Rori's blade.
"Especially one like yours. So long and hard," Zevran groans. He sounds ecstatic.
"I could show you how to handle it," I offer in between decapitating a Genlock and fending off his frenzied buddies.
"Yes, please." Somehow I don't like the way the elf grins at me. "I wouldn't mind to be stabbed."
"Wait, you're talking about an actual pike?" Wynne squeaks, her spell going amiss and accidentally blasting off a chunk of the wall. It comes crashing down on a shriek. "Like a spear?"
"Obviously. What else would I be talking about?" Oghren wonders.
"I can't imagine," the granny mage mutters.
I can't either but Zevran is laughing so hard, he topples over, saving his own life as the two darkspawn trying to run him through now run each other through.
"We don't need pikes, we need missiles!" Rori shouts. "The ballistas! Hurry!"
We hurry but Rori winces with every step she takes. One hand pressed to her belly, she curses under her breath as she grits her teeth against the pain.
"Does anybody know how to handle a ballista?" I ask when we all stand in front of one. The answer is no. So it takes us some time to actually figure out how it works and some more time until we get the right aim. Enough time for Wynne to doctor up Rori. Afterwards the granny mage is as pale as her patient.
"Alistair..." I am trying to adjust a ballista and fend off darkspawn at the same time. Whatever Wynne wants, it can't be as urgent as she makes it sound. I can hardly look over my shoulder before the next darkspawn. Rori has grabbed Wynne by her arm, beseeching the older woman while she stabs, kicks, hits at darkspawn - whatever works to keep the beasts at bay. I prick my ears but over the noise of the battle I cannot make any sense of their conversation.
"You kept saying I was here for a higher purpose." Rori says sadly when the blasted darkspawn gives us some rest. The next already make their way up the slope and get greeted by Shale and Barkley. "That the life of one individual doesn't matter, that I don't matter..."
"You have a responsibility, you are a..." Wynne begins.
"... Grey Warden," Rori interrupts, turning her back on the mage. "Is the missile ready? Let's salute this blasted beast in a way it will never forget."
"Ten, nine, eight...," Zevran counts down when the ballista is ready.
"Ready, steady, go!" I cut him short. We really don't have time to waste on that many numbers.
The first missile we shoot high into the air. The second crashes into the ground, almost spiking poor Irving. All the while darkspawn keeps charging.
When the third missile finally hits home we all cheer. Well, not the archdemon. It certainly doesn't think this is funny.
"What happens if we kill it that way?" Rori wonders. Her face is ashen, Wynne's magic pulses around her, a faint magical glow surrounding her head to toe. Whatever spell Wynne wove, it is powerful. Very, very powerful. Whatever dispute Rori had with Wynne, she settled it. The granny mage doesn't look happy, though. Not at all. "Does it count when a Grey Warden handles the ballista?"
"No clue." I shrug. "Rori, are you alright? I mean, as alright as you can be when face to face with a gigantic corrupted dragon housing the soul of an old god."
"As good as can be expected under the circumstances." Rori confirms. She smiles at me. It is meant to be one of these wide beaming smiles but turns out weak and pained.
"Rori..."
"We are Grey Wardens, Alistair. We do whatever is necessary to fight the darkspawn. There's no turning back now. It's too late for the Orlesian leave and eating cake."
She of course is right. I still feel terrible. Considering we are overrun by darkspawn, terrible seems very appropriate. Add a feeling of looming doom, yes, it all fits nicely. I really got better things to do than wondering about what Rori keeps secrect. I'm not dumb, you know. Not all the time. But I'd have to talk to her to find out and shouting at each other across the battlefield won't do. I am tempted to shake Rori until she spits out whatever information she hides. Instead I shake a darkspawn, hitting its head against a nearby wall repeatedly.
Until now all I could think about was, well, nothing. Instinct took over as soon as we reached the top of Fort Drakon. It was all about staying alive, fight, move, no time for thinking when there's no time for elaborated decisions. I am so exhausted, pure adrenaline is all that keeps me going. And Wynne's magic. My heart is thundering painfully against my ribcage, every breath I take fills my lungs with liquid heat.
A second missile hits the archdemon, boring deeply into its flesh - and for the first time I realize we have a chance. We can bring him down and that means...
Merciful Andraste!
Morrigan's warning echoes in my mind and with it the fear returns.
Rori mustn't slay the archdemon. It's a matter of life and death.
"Seems we will find out if Morrigan's cheat works," Rori whispers next to me, sounding as scared as I feel.
With much effort the archdemon lifts itself from its exposed position and slumps down on a platform to the left. It roars in agony and fury,
"Did she say something about it?" I ask nervously, running down the slope. The archdemon has summoned as many darkspawn as still alive to defend it, forming a ring of protection around their boss.
"Not to me." Rori squints her eyes. She's not the only one here withholding information.
Inhaling deeply I say "Rori" same time she says "Alistair".
"What?" we croak in unison, grinning stupidly at each other. I beckon her to speak first, she does the same with me and we both go: "Nevermind."
"Well, good thing we talked about it." Rori's grin is caught somewhere in between maniacal and frightened. I'd give her a hug if not for all the darkspawn. She'd need one. Maker, I'd need one!
Actually everybody here looks as if they needed a hug. Well, not the darkspawn, of course.
The archdemon is hopping mad. Rori and I make several dipsy-doodles to avoid getting fried by the blue fire the archdemon breathes at us. Irving and Wynne create a curtain fire of magic missiles raining down on our opponents. Zevran is at my right side, doubling like a rabbit and laughing madly as he cuts down anything in reach. A shriek stops his suicidal rush, engaging the elf in a whirlwind fight of blades and claws.
Shale flings any darkspawn she gets hold off over the edge of the tower. Oghren has joined the Legion of the Dead, backing us up. Rori dives forward, sliding across the floor when the archdemon snaps at her. Coming to a halt beneath its belly, she stabs upwards, then quickly rolls to the side when the dragon slumps down to squish her.
"For the Grey Wardens!" I shout, slashing the side of the archdemon's neck when it turns to go after Rori. It's head whips back towards me and I find myself face to face with the beast. Pressed against its side there's no escape. The foul stench of the beast's breath is worse than anything I have ever smelled before. And travelling with Sten, Oghren and Barkley, I have smelled a whole lot of real bad odours. Not to mention my socks. But this... this has me almost faint... Not that I got much time to worry about the foul stench. When the dragon's jaws clench around my body, the stench really is the very last thing I actually worry about.
My first thought when I get lifted off the ground: Not again!
The archdemon scrunches on me - Goodbye shiny splendiferous armour! - it's teeth pierce through the metal and all I can do is flail around with my sword helplessly and shriek. It's squishing me slowly, not like a beast acting on instinct. No, this is a vengeful god and it wants the insipid mortal to suffer for his hybris.
The air is squeezed out of my lungs, pain circles through my whole body and I see stars dancing in front of my eyes. I gurgle and choke, blood spluttering from my mouth. Suddenly Rori appears in sight, sitting on top of the archdemon's head. Her dagger raised, she pokes it right into the archdemon's eye when it squints to get a look at her.
The beast roars and I drop to the ground like a stone. The soldier's severed arm lands on top of me. And then Rori. The archdemon throws its head back and shakes if furiously. Rori's dagger - formerly Duncan's - protrudes from its eye and the beast paws at it, only pushing it in deeper.
I don't know how I get back to my feet. Every step I take is agony, every time I lift my arm, a bolt of hot pain shoots upwards into my shoulder. My head is spinning, blood is flowing down my face from a gash at my forehead. I see red, literally. It's blinding me and I have to pull off my gauntlets to wipe the blood from my eyes. And still I charge. I roar in despair and fury, a battle cry to encourage myself, to drive my body forwards when it refuses to function. I stumble and fall when the archdemon pushes me. It steps onto my leg and I can feel the bones crack...
Blast!
I don't give a damn that big boys don't cry. I start bawling.
I'm not the only one.
Tears are streaming down Rori's face. The dark wetness has stained her pants down to her knees. She clutches her sword with both hands, wielding it as if it weighed a ton. She sinks her blade into the archdemon's chest and the beast tumbles backwards. It smacks us both with its tale, sending us scattering across the ground. I slam against a wall. Rori slams into me.
My vision goes black. Okay, so this is it then? I'm dying, right? I'm so damn cold, chilled to the bone and deeper. Then the pain fades into a dull ache, a warmth engulfs me and there's a distant light beckoning me...
"Alistair! Don't you dare die on me!"
POOF! Light gone. I force my eyes open and a crooked smile to form around my lips. Rori's pale face is hovering right above me, dark shadows under her eyes give away how exhausted she is. Her breathing is ragged, her hands trembling when she pulls me against her.
"Don't you dare die on me," she repeats, her voice choked. "It's over. You can't die now when it's over."
First I don't get what she means. All around us the battle is still raging and yet it seems so distant. Maker, I'm so dizzy. I've hit my head far too often today. Not to mention my intestines feel like all squished and mashed. Several ribs are broken, one poking my lungs nastily. Not to die sounds much like mission impossible right now.
It's hard to focus on anything - but then my eyes catch sight of the dragon. It's lying on the ground, spasms running through its body as its legs twitch in the useless attempt to get back to its feet. A pool of black ichor is forming around it, wiggling maggots included.
"We've done it," Rori whispers. "You stay here while I finish it - and you better still be there when I return!" She doesn't sound half as cocksure as she wants me to believe. Her tears betray her as does the angst in her eyes.
"Rori... you mustn't..." I croak, blood spluttering from my mouth. She leans in to kiss me gently, her lips smeared with my blood when she puts me down gently. "No!" I reach out for her but she is already gone, rushing towards the archdemon. Her first steps are wavering, then she straightens and her composure changes. Strength, determination, grace. Her heart is beating so fast as if it was about to leap out of her chest... Oh, wait, that's mine. Seems I'm not as dead as I feel. Panic drives me back to my feet - and sends me right down again. Maker! I forgot about that broken leg. The pain almost has me faint. Come on, Alistair! Pull yourself together! You cannot swoon like a damsel in distress when your woman is about to slay the archdemon! Who needs legs to walk when one can crawl? "Rori! No! You mustn't! Let me..."
The wind whips at her hair, the sky has turned blood red, grey clouds looming above her. She grabs a sword sticking out of a fallen darkspawn, holding it with both hands as she moves on - as if I hadn't said anything at all.
"Hey! I'm talking to you! ROOOOOOOOOORIIII!"
Finally she slows down and turns towards me, still walking backwards as if she knew she couldn't find the courage to move on should she stop. Our eyes meet for one last time. I can't understand her words, a whisper gone with the wind. I don't have to hear her. I can see it in her eyes, I can feel it in my aching heart.
"I love you, too," I breathe, pulling myself forward, gritting my teeth against the pain. I cannot reach her anymore now. Not unless Shale tossed me. I'd totally go for it. But of course the golem is nowhere to be seen. I still don't give up. I rather die trying. I don't want to kick the bucket without having tried. Rori really is rubbing off on me.
When Rori reaches the archdemon, the beast's eye snaps open. With its last strength it lifts its head off the ground and roaring menacingly, bites at the Grey Warden. She ducks her head, raises her sword and stabs the dragon's exposed neck, slicing its throat in an upwards motion. Ichor splatters down on her and she quickly sumersaults out of the way before the huge head can crash down on her. Gurgling the archdemon twitches, its one eye glinting evilly.
Rori grips her sword with both hands. She's right next to the beast's head, raising the blade high over her head.
I'm almost there... almost... "NOOOOOO!"
Rori rams the sword into the archdemon's skull, her anguish, grief and determination mirrored on her face. She pushes with all her strength, leaning her whole weight onto the hilt to drive the blade through flesh and bones. The skull splits open and a pillar of bright lurid light shoots into the sky. Rori's hands are like glued to the hilt of her sword. She tries to let go but her body is caught in the thundering beam - the sound is... it's like a death cry from a thousand throats, an agonized wail of fury, incredulity and fear. I can hardly hear Rori's high pitched screams over the noise. Or my frantic cries.
Spasms run through Rori's body, having her twitch as if electricity was forced through her. Her eyes roll back in their sockets. Smoke forms around her hands, the stench of burnt flesh, blood and ichor makes me gag. Tears stream down my face as my body is pressed down by the maelstrom of corrupted power surging into the sky faster and faster...
BOOM!
The explosion makes my ears ring, my head feels like exploding itself and if I wasn't already down it would knock me over. Rori is hurtled backwards, slamming into the ground several feet away when a huge cloud of light and dust illuminates the sky. Looks somewhat like a gigantic mushroom...
Afterwards there is a deathly silence. All I hear is my own ragged breathing and my blood rushing in my veins. I'm not sure if I am dead or alive. Couldn't care less, though, when Rori is lying on the ground stock-still, her armour smouldering, her hair smouldering, blisters covering her hands and face.
"Rori!" I croak, crawling as fast as possible to get to her.
Maker! She looks... awful. I sit up - with much groaning and cursing and whining - to cradle her in my arms, holding her against my chest as I cry into her hair - well, what's left of it - and kiss her brow. "Rori, please, don't you die on me. You said you'd be right back," I sob, my lips moving against her skin.
"Also told you to stay over there."
"Rori! Maker's Breath! You're alive!" I laugh out loud - and instantly get poked by that broken rib.
"Duh... not for much longer if you go on squeezing me like that," she groans.
"Merciful Andraste! You... you live! But Morrigan said... she said you'd die slaying the archdemon... Said it was a matter of life and death! Oh, blast it! That nasty witch- bitch!" I cry and laugh and hug her, shower her with kisses, smooch and cuddle her. I'm so relieved, so happy, so ecstatic I don't feel any pain anymore. Well, maybe a little pain but who cares when we are both still alive? And the odds were quite long, right? It's a miracle, that's what it is and I will have to light a whole lot of candles at the Chantry. The Maker truly moves in mysterious ways. Or He's just a sucker for thrillers. "How are you?"
"Well done," Rori retorts, her voice no more than a choked whisper.
"You should have let me perform the killing blow," I scold her, happily nuzzling her nose.
"And listen to you complain about your hair getting ruined endlessly?" She closes her eyes, lying very still in my arms. "I wasn't sure about the ritual. I couldn't take the risk of losing you," she murmurs weakly. Her head sinks against my shoulder as she becomes limp in my arms. Tears stream down her face and she cringes in pain, clasping her belly. "Maker have mercy," she whimpers. "Can you forgive me, Alistair?"
"How could I not? You're too pretty not to forgive. Well, not right now, but, you know, in general..." Even in when half-dead Rori manages to swat at me for that. I smile and even smiling hurts. I don't feel much like smiling anyway. I'm just too exhausted to worry about anything, to tired to be afraid... We are both sitting in a puddle of blood. It takes me awfully long to realize it's Rori's. My vision becomes blurry and I begin to tremble. My body is kindly reminding me it has had about enough.
"You don't even know what I am talking about..."
"Hush," I whisper against her scorched hair. "We're alive and together, that's all that matters to me. Hey! There's Wynne! She's going to fix anything that needs fixing. It's over now. And they lived happily ever after..."
"I'm not that sure about the happy part..."
"Shush. Let's just pretend for now."
"Oh, alright... And they lived happily ever after."
"See, that wasn't that hard, was it? Oh and I love you. Always. Just so you know."
"Love you, too. Just so you know."
So this is the story of Alistair and Rori, the Grey Wardens who fight to end the blasted Blight.
I think... I think I'm going to swoon... Now.
Very last thing I hear Rori say is: "Uhm, Alistair, I'm pregnant... or was... kinda..."
Boy, she has some timing!

Notes:

Can Alistair and Rori save their baby or do they face another tragedy? Will they ever be the happy family Alistair dreams of? Learn about Alistair's struggle to become a good king, about political intrigues and new alliances formed. Be their guest at the royal wedding. Find out how the Grey Wardens react to Rori's survival after slaying the archdemon. Accompany Rori and Alistair to Amarenthine and Kirkwall. Find out the truth about the Calling. Read how Rori tracks down Morrigan and find out about the witch's gift to the monarchs of Ferelden. Follow Alistair on his desperate search for his missing father, King Maric. Can he finally solve the mystery of his mother's true identity? Witness Rori's departure on search for a cure for the Calling, her final adventure should she fail. And Alistair left alone at the brink of yet another catastrophe threatening to destroy Thedas.
Find out about all that and more in Hoping One Day We'll Make a Dream Last, Part 2 of the Roristair Series. (Notevensorry says the series title is blah and I can think of a better one. So the title could change but for now it has to do.)
The sequel can be found here: http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600089737
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In good times and in bad

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Chapter Text

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