Written in first person: Set after Awakenings: Alistair married to Anora.
Supposed to be full of angst but that seems to be dwindling the further in I go. Darnit.
Choices
Standing on the rampart overlooking the courtyard of Vigil’s Keep and the homes beyond, I feel sadness tear at my heart. This pain is no stranger to me. It is the friend that I hold closest now. Through the cold stone walls I can hear echoes of Oghren’s laughter, hear Ander’s muffled contempt. I should turn and go inside. I should sit with them as I use to, I should free myself to laugh.
Instead, I follow the rampart to a side door that will lead me down to ground level, bypassing the people that wander within the halls. A cold wind stirs the cloak at my back, the chill felt through the light armor I wear. They will not understand why I do this, why I have decided to leave. Some will call me a coward, label me a deserter, but I need no one else’s judgment. I do this for myself. My first selfish act since my life changed that day, so long ago.
Down a winding staircase, the heels of my boots resounding in a whisper against the walls as I follow a short hall to another door. Back out into the cold, the night sky a blanket of clouds that block the stars from my view. I take nothing save the swords at my back and the memories of all that I have lost. They are all I need, the only things that remain to me now.
A spattering of rain begins as I stride across the courtyard. Torch flames hiss as I pass, as if they know what is to come. The few guards that patrol salute me as I go. I nod to them. They have also sacrificed more than the world will ever know. They are not my enemies. They are not my friends. Not anymore.
The homes thin as I follow the path leading out of the Vigil. My heart clenches as I near the arch but my steps never slow. I will not let my memories weaken me. I will not allow myself to linger on what could have been.
Fate is such a strange thing. Rearing it’s head when resolve becomes set and everything becomes thrown off balance. As the fields along the path fade into the darkness, I hear the approach of hooves, like thunder rumbling throughout my life. I block the path but do not care to move. Perhaps the mount senses me. As I catch the first glimpse of it’s eyes in the darkness, it rears up, expressing it’s discomfort at being hindered so abruptly. The rider lets out an exclamation, clinging to it’s mane as he tries to calm the startled beast.
Hooves return to the rain softened earth and I move aside to resume my walk.
“Commander?”
The voice sounds unsure and I can feel the rider peering at me in the darkness. I pull the cloaks hood over my head to keep the rain at bay.
“It is you!” The rider exclaims, clamoring down from his mount. “I bring urgent news from the palace at Denerim. I am to give it to no one but you.”
No matter how much I may wish it to be so, fate will not let me die in peace.
* * * * * * *
Two days later
The rain seemed never ending. Fitting that the sky would be grey as I stand staring at the palace gates. There was no happiness to be found here. No reason why the sun should shine down upon me ever again. This was where the last crushing blow had fallen, delivered by my own hand, in a manner of speaking. My decision had altered the course of my life. I had no one else to blame so it was fitting that I be the one to punish my own stupidity.
A man in silver mail rattles down the courtyard steps, rain drops falling from the rim of his helmet like tears. He crosses an arm over his breastplate, bowing slightly as he approaches.
“Commander. If you will follow me.”
Why was I even here? I ask myself this question as he leads me up the stairs to the double doors leading into the palace. Hinges creak as we enter and my senses become overwhelmed from the sudden warmth and the fragrant scents that thicken the air.
My hands are darkened with the blood of many countless battles but meandering along the carpeted hall, my feet want nothing more than to run, to be as far from this place as humanly possible. I have survived the Deep Roads, slaughtered ogre’s with barely a hitch in my breath, struck the archdemon down without hesitation, but I dread what waits for me within these walls. Fear it as I have feared nothing that has come before.
Through another set of double doors into a large room with a fireplace that banishes the cold from my skin. The wood crackles just as my nerves do, my eyes sweeping the room until they settle on the lone figure standing at the hearth. Another stab of pain and I steel myself for what is to come.
Queen Anora turns to face me, face and clothes as I remember from all that time ago. How long had it been now? One year? Two? It was all a blur to me now, one daze blending into another, my life continuing on with no help from me.
“It is good to see you again…old friend.”
There is no warmth in her voice, nor do I expect any. The words are hollow, meaningless. She and I both know this but appearance means everything in the company of others.
“Likewise, Your Majesty.”
I do not recognize my own voice, for it has been ages since I last heard it. I can hear the bite behind it, the lack of respect. I have never liked her. It was always about Fereldan; the people. I was a different person back then, back when I had faith in the world and the people around me. That was no longer the case.
“Alistair sends his regards as well.” She informs, blue eyes cutting into me. “He is in a meeting and unable to join us, I’m afraid. Perhaps you will have a chance to speak with him after you have rested.”
She meant every word as an insult, hoping to cut me where she knew I would bleed the worst. That which doesn’t kill you, will only fuel your anger.
“Your company is more than enough, Your Majesty. I understand how busy the King is compared to you.”
Pale eyebrows become a line of pure hate, lips pursed and ready to spill words. It is gone within the blink of an eye, replaced by a cold emptiness her Father had been respected for. Nothing short of her killing the archdemon with her bare hands would make me respect this woman.
“We should retire to a more…private setting, do you not agree? There is much to discuss.”
“As you wish.”
She folds her hands together at her waist as she heads toward the adjoining hall. Anora is the epitome of grace, of beauty, but it is all a mask, a masquerade to hide the cobra lurking within. I had known this, had experienced first hand the devious intentions in her heart. Her words, her actions were like poison, eating away at everything she touched.
I had known this. And my actions had made her Queen.
There was no greater fool than I.
Rooms line the hall, paintings of past Kings and Queens offering a taste of history. An elfin maid comes scurrying out of the pantry, arms laden with a tray of food and drink, feet carrying her to a door at the end of the hall. Anora leads me to an enclosed stairway just as the girl raps her knuckles on the worn wood. There is muffled consent, the door swinging open as she hurries inside.
“My, my, I see my luck as improved tenfold for there is no lovelier sight than that of my favorite Grey Warden.”
My feet become rooted, emotions scattering out of my control like dust in the wind. All of the things that I have kept locked away rush to the surface, a tidal wave that threatens to consume my very being. I try to rein it in as my eyes begin to burn, the pale blue of Anora’s dress blurring into a cloud.
“Ah, you act as if you have not missed me but I know this is not true.” Zevran teases, having approached. “Turn and let me see your eyes filled with the longing you have always denied me.”
I grit my teeth until my jaw begins to ache.
I thought I would be more prepared, able to face my past without flinching but like so many things, it had all been a lie, just another deception. I missed them. All of them, the hole in my heart too large to cover. I had lost so much; was losing things still. I slam down every barrier I can find, all of the ones I have built over the years.
I hear the metallic whisper of armor and, as I turn, Alistair, the King of Fereldan, appears in the doorway. The years have been hard on him, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth now more pronounced. They had always appeared whenever he smiled, disappearing with his laughter. Hazel eyes watch me, mouth set into a grim line.
Respect, pain, love; all of these things force me down to one knee, my head bowed.
“Your Majesty.” My voice does not waiver and I am grateful.
“Commander.”
I can feel Zevran’s eyes dart between us, his expression turning to distaste.
“Time does not heal all wounds it seems.” The Assassin mutters.
Alistair’s scowl deepens and I rise, aware of Anora lurking behind me still. I don’t have to turn to see her amusement; I can feel it crawling along my skin. It has become my mission in life, aside from fighting darkspawn, to knock her down from her pedestal when the opportunity presents itself.
“I convinced him to marry a shrew.” I say, calm when I am anything but. “I wouldn’t forgive me either.”
“I think it would be best if you learned why you were summoned and then took your leave.” Anora remarks, words dripping with ice. “Your lack of respect for your Queen will not end well if you remain.”
“Seeing as how I didn’t wish to come here to begin with, I completely agree.”
Alistair heads back into the room followed by Anora and Zevran. The Assassin tosses me a smile of approval as I move to follow and I find myself returning it without hesitation. It was like old times but even I knew such things could never be again.
The elfin maid nearly collides with me as I step into the room before hurrying on the finish her chores. The room is in fact a study, the walls lined with bookshelves, packed from ceiling to floor. A large oak desk is positioned near the fireplace and Alistair takes a seat, the chair large enough to accommodate his massive armor. It occurs to me that he should be in normal attire which meant that he had either just returned to the palace or was preparing to leave.
Something coils in my stomach, a sense of foreboding and, not for the first time, I wish that I had not come here.
Anora moves to stand behind him, the fire in the windowless room creating a halo around them both. Zevran takes a step back to be at my side, arching an eyebrow in my direction. I smile again, though more forced and offer a slight shake of my head in answer to his silent question. Though killing her would make my day, it would not go well for either of us in the long run.
Though I did appreciate the attempt to lighten my mood.
Alistair shuffles a stack of documents adorning his desk, his posture stiff. The movement upsets an ink well, knocking it over onto it’s side. Black liquid streams to the floor. He simply stares at it, as does Anora. The difference in their expressions is the true tell of how unfit a match they really are. The Queen seems annoyed, her eyes on the intricate rug positioned beneath the desk that is now ruined. Alistair’s expression becomes pained, the cost of the rug the last thing on his mind. When he finally moves to clean the mess, Anora places her hand on his armored shoulder.
“Don’t worry yourself, husband. I will have one of the servants take care of it.”
Anora strides from the room, avoiding my gaze. The change in her is too sudden. She had been eager for this moments before and now-
“I need your help.”
My startled eyes settle onto Alistair’s haggard face, meeting his gaze full on for the first time since…well, since after the Landsmeet.
“I’m listening.” I say carefully.
“King Bhelen sent a request. Why he didn’t have it sent to you is something of a mystery unless this is his attempt to get on my good side.” Alistair replies. “It seems that all traces of darkspawn within the Deep Roads have disappeared. Since their behavior also affects Grey Wardens, he has asked if I would like to send a search party of my own to investigate. Members of the Legion will be venturing deeper underground in the next few days and he wants a Warden to accompany them.”
“If this is true, if the darkspawn have indeed vanished, that will certainly hinder your plan, will it not?” Zevran remarks, turning accusing eyes my way.
My heart literally stalls as I look to him, unwilling to believe. There was no way he could know-
“Why do you seem so surprised, my dear Warden? Did you think that Oghren was only receiving letters from his charming wife?” The Elf makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “No, no, he sent word to me when your behavior began to change. He is quite observant when the mood strikes him, or when he’s low on ale. I am sure they are the same thing, however.”
“Oghren can’t find his pants most of the time.” I reply, looking away. “I wouldn’t trust anything he says.”
“Is that so? So, you do not intend to venture into the Deep Roads to commit suicide, then?”
Despite the raging fire, I can feel the warmth drain from my body, fingers growing numb.
“You attempted to leave the Keep with no belongings, without saying goodbye to your fellow Wardens.” Zevran continues. “You were not intending to return, of that I am certain.”
I can feel Alistair’s eyes boring into me but I refuse to look at him. I can’t. Anger washes over me, through me.
“What I choose to do with my life should be no ones concern but my own. Talk about me behind my back all you wish but it will change nothing.”
“Yes, because your life is so miserable that you can not possibly go on living. It was your choices that brought you here and now you choose to run from them.” Zevran remarks, snide. “I never pictured you as a coward and yet here you stand.”
“Zevran-.” Alistair begins, tone lowered in warning.
“That coming from a man who does not have the balls to return to his own home. A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” I snap, turning to face him. “Whether I face my death now or thirty years down the road, the end will be the same. There are no attacks. There is no Blight. I no longer serve a purpose except to run errands. I will do as I damn well please.”
Sick of the conversation, tired beyond reason, I turn to go but Zevran is one of the best; ready to stab you in the back the moment it is turned.
“Admit that you do this because Alistair is lost to you. If you are going to die, be brave enough to face the reason.”
My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into my palms but I manage to keep walking. I admit nothing. I know the reason, feel it every morning when I wake, endure it every moment of every day.
“I will head to Orzammar. I was going there anyway.”
Down the hall, past the guards and the maid hurrying along with a pail of soapy water clutched in hand. Back out into the open air. I fill my lungs with it, pausing at the top of the steps as I watch the clouds pass by. The courtyard is bathed in gray, a breeze stirring my hair, cheeks becoming chilled. I raise shaking fingers to find that I am crying.
“Is it true?”
I whirl before I think. Alistair is standing only a few steps away, his nearness still able to stagger me even after all this time.
My hand falls away just as the clouds break, the sunlight almost blinding against the silver/gold of his armor. I have never regretted helping him take the throne and moments like this, when I see him in such a way, fills my heart with peace. Whether he believed it or not, he had always been meant for this.
“Do I intend to force my Calling?” I inquire. “Yes.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
I actually jump at his sudden outburst. It isn’t a yell but the anger behind each word is felt like a slap to my face. I can do nothing but stare as he strides forward, taking hold of my arms.
My choices had led me here and there was no going back.
“Tell me why.”
It is a demand not a friendly suggestion.
The friendship between the two of us had been lost the moment Anora’s name had fallen from my lips. The pain on his face that day had started me down this road but my feet had finished carrying me along.
I could have stayed at his side. I could have become Queen but my fear had far outweighed my love for him. Or so I had thought at the time. Back then my focus had been on the Archdemon, ending the Blight and making Fereldan safe again. The future had seemed like a far off thing, dim and warped like the Fade.
But this was life staring me in the face; mocking me, goading me. I can still close my eyes and remember how gentle his touch had been, the words he had whispered when no one else could hear. I had loved him with everything I had. Now I felt empty, lost and wandering in a world where I was no longer needed.
“I have no desire to answer unless you order it, Your Majesty.”
His cheeks begin to flush, eyes narrowing, and I realize that pushing him too far might not be a good idea. I needed to get away from him, from the pain and betrayal that have dulled his eyes. I can not afford to become weak, not when I have come this far.
“Stop calling me that.” He growls.
His hold on my arms is trembling. They will be bruised by morning but I make no move to pull away.
“I was your friend before I became King, or does none of that matter to you anymore?”
“Everything still matters. All of it.” My voice is small, thin, so unlike me. I can feel that old familiar weight bearing down and become afraid. “Let me go.”
His expression falls, anger replaced by sadness. This was the Alistair I remembered, the one who stole my heart and had yet to give it back.
“No.” He states, voice as hard as stone. “Not again. Not ever.”
The barrier that I made just for him begins to crack.
“Alistair.” Anora’s voice wafts from over his shoulder.
His hazel eyes meet mine and there is the briefest moment of uncertainty before his resolve comes crashing down. I do not want to hear or see this. I can not allow myself to find hope only to have it trampled once again.
“Leave us, Anora.” He says, not taking his eyes from me.
“Bann Teagan has arrived to-.”
“I know why he’s here. He can wait.”
The distraction has loosened his hold and I slip free of him, darting down the steps two at a time, ignoring his call.
Ignoring the fact that he still loves me.
* * * * * *
I stand in the open stable door, eying the purple sky over Denerim. Gathering supplies for the trip had eaten up most of the afternoon but I was determined to leave, even if it meant traveling at night. Buying a horse had not been part of my plan but time was of the essence, more so now than ever.
The only positive news was that it was no longer raining though the clouds still threatened to do just that. I hear the soft thud of hooves and turn to see the stable boy leading the mare I had picked. She is solid ebony with a patch of white around her left eye. Though in great shape, it had been the wild look in her blue eyes that had drawn me to her. She would not frighten easily if confronted with battle and I needed something stable considering the kind of attention that flocked to me.
“Here y-you are, Miss. S-saddled and r-ready to go.”
The boy is young, barely in his teens, and so nervous that he can hardly form a coherent sentence. He knows who I am, a rare thing so long after the Blight. Very few knew me on sight anymore and I am glad for that. Better that I fade from their memories and they from mine; no harm is done that way.
Or so I convince myself.
The mare nudges my shoulder before sliding her cold nose beneath my arm. She is as eager to be gone as I. I hand the boy a gold coin, admiring the saddle he had put in place. It was of good quality, certainly fancier than anything I had owned in Highever. Frowning, I step forward just as the coin falls to the hay strewn ground.
His mouth is now flapping open, eyes as wide as plates fixed on the entryway behind me. Somehow I know but I turn regardless. Alistair approaches, flanked on either side by his most trusted guards. There are five of them in all.
Including Zevran.
The boy falls to his knee, shaking, but before I can try to calm him, Alistair reaches out to ruffle his hair.
“There’s no need for that, Mani. I thought you would be use to me coming here by now.”
“I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty. M-momma told me to always bow and I’m more scared of her than you.”
The smile that lightens his face takes away all of the hardships and sadness that he has no doubt had to endure. Before me now is the man I had met at Ostagar, unburdened by the deaths of those closest to him, not yet betrayed by me. The sadness and regret is like the weight of the world to my heart.
“I prepared her horse just like you asked, Your Majesty.” The boy continues, getting to his feet. “Torrin is getting the others ready out back.”
That wipes the smile off his face in a hurry, a nervous chuckle floating through the air as he avoids my glare. “Ah, well, thank you for that, Mani. You kept that secret perfectly.”
The boy beams and skips off past the guards and a highly amused Zevran. My eyes never waiver from Alistair’s and his discomfort only grows.
“I can explain-.”
“You’re going to accompany me?” I cut in. To hell with protocol. I disliked being blindsided in battle or in life.
I can actually see his posture stiffen. It seems that his time dealing with Anora and the political debacles of Fereldan had strengthen his pride somewhat. It was good to see, even if it was aimed at me.
“I am King. Unless the taint has addled my brain, I recall being able to go where I wish.”
“I hardly see how endangering yourself in the Deep Roads will benefit your kingdom.”
“I hardly see how remaining here will either.”
“I sense that much joy and good times await us on our journey, my friends. It is a feeling in my gut and my gut is never wrong.” Zevran comments, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“This discussion is over.” Alistair states, turning away. “We leave once the horses are prepared.”
He exits through the front, his guards tagging along close behind. Only Zevran hesitates, his expression wistful.
“I wonder how long it will take, my dear Warden? One day? Two? Ah, it will be fun to watch, I have no doubt of that. It reminds me of the plays I attended in Antiva so long ago. If it ends in tragedy, I will be there to pick up your pieces with gentle, loving hands while you smother me in your bosom.”
My lips thin as I point to Alistair’s retreating back.
Zevran throws up his hands. “Fine, fine. Your stubbornness is an endeavor I am determined to overcome. Your rejection only hardens my…resolve, yes?”
I manage to hold myself together long after he is gone but even I am not strong enough to resist the smile that appears at my lips.
Modifié par Alistairschica, 27 janvier 2011 - 04:51 .
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