Guest Prompt fill - For Duty and HonorDuty and honor be damned!“Teagan, you can’t be serious,” Eamon said, dismayed. “That would be scandalous!”
“I am deadly serious, brother,” replied Teagen, fury brimming in his eyes.
“But what about your duty? Your honor?”
“This is what I want and this is what I shall have, with or without your blessing. Duty and honor be damned!”
---
“I swear ‘e said it jus’ that way, he did, Nigella told me! ‘Duty and honor be damned!’ jus’ like that, if ya will, and then ‘e stormed out of the castle.”
Alistair froze as those words came at him like blows. ‘Duty and honor be damned.’ He turned and headed back to his bed, no longer hungry for a midnight snack of cheese and crackers which had sent him creeping down here in the first place, much to the dismay of the servants.
Duty and honor had dictated everything in his life. Almost none of it had been pleasant.
Eamon’s duty demanded he take Alistair in at the king’s request, but that didn’t keep Alistair from sleeping in the kennels. And his own honor, to a father who would never acknowledge him, demanded Alistair never complain about it.
His duty to the Chantry, where he’d been sent after Isolde convinced Eamon
her honor demanded it. Where, if it hadn’t been for Duncan, he would have fulfilled his own duty and become a Lyrium addicted Templar. Duncan -- his heart still ached at the loss of the only man who had ever truly cared what he wanted.
‘
Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn.’ This. This was the first and only time when duty and honor seemed like a blessing and not a curse. He had been proud to be a Grey Warden. And for awhile, despite all the tragedy, all the danger, all the politics, he’d found a rare and wonderful gift. Someone who shared his sense of duty and honor… and so much more.
Zaina. The one bright spot in an otherwise dark and ugly world. Despite their differences she had been the first person to truly understand him. Even Duncan, as much as he seemed to care for him, had left scratching his head after more than one conversation with the rescued Templar. But Zaina seemed to be able to see right through his clumsy words and read his very soul. Perhaps it was her elven heritage, perhaps it was just her.
In her arms, the weight of the world disappeared, at least for a time. Duty and honor were shared by both of them, fighting the Darkspawn, building an army. He had never been happier than walking the roads of Fereldan beside the woman he loved.
And then the fairytale ended. Duty dictated he become king. His blood demanded it. It was the last thing he wanted because he knew what honor would force him to do, once put on the throne. He’d wanted nothing more than to forewarn her of what was to come, but he feared it would affect a decision he felt sure she would have a hand in making.
He had been right. He hated being right. She had made him king; her understanding of duty demanded nothing less. And then, for honor, he’d broken her heart.
“They’ll demand an heir”, he’d said. Something next to impossible for two Grey Wardens to produce.
His honor demanded he set her aside, out of fairness both to her and his future bride.
Her honor kept the tears brimming in her eyes from spilling down her cheeks as she mutely nodded, accepting their fate.
Duty and honor conflicted when she came to him with Morrigan’s proposition. The honorable thing to have done would have been to refuse, and then, by whatever means necessary, take the killing blow himself. But duty demanded he consider her words. Ferelden needed them both, him to lead the nation and her to lead his armies. Perhaps it was more than duty that led him to agree to the ritual. No, not perhaps. He’d been glad to find that way out. A way to keep them both alive, even if it meant living apart.
“The Arl is right! It ‘ill cause a scandal, for sure! Ser Teagan, marryin’ a knife-eared wench! Mark my words, we’ll have us another war on hands, we will!”
“Shhhh! Keep it down, the King might o’er hear ya! Or have ya forgotten that same ‘knife-eared wench’ warmin’ his bed on many a night, so’s Nigella claims?”
Alistair froze for the second time that night. Chunks of his heart being ripped from his body with every word he overheard. He felt the world tilt as everything he’d ever lived for crumbled at his feet.
Teagan was right.
Duty and honor be damned! They were nothing. Nothing.
Nothing, without love. A lesson learned... too little, too late.
Modifié par Tigress M, 30 novembre 2010 - 03:56 .
*whispers* It's gotten less incredibly bad for Alistair. *whispers*
Retour en haut
And I think Alistair has pants on. More's the pity.
