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SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.
A/N: This story uses characters from my I Shall Endure universe. It does not follow the plot line or reveal the outcomes of the I Shall Endure series.
Inspired by imadra-blue's artwork, this story was written for the 2013 Dragon Age Reverse Big Band (DARBB).
Masterpost link - copy or type: .
FROZEN DRAGONS
Chapter 1: VARRIC
The Hanged Man, Kirkwall === 9:45 Dragon
Some years ago an elf showed up to torment one of the perennial drunks at the Hanged Man tavern in Low Town. I had wondered about this particular drunk. Usually a quiet, morose sort of drunk, occasionally he would loudly claim to be a companion of the Hero of Ferelden. Why would a companion of the Hero of Ferelden end up here? His name did intrigue me. Alistair. Was there a story? Was he the lost Prince of Fereldan?
I considered the facts. The drunk was Fereldan, but that was common in Kirkwall. The name Alistair was also common. The real Alistair, the Theirin Prince, did disappear after surviving the final battle of Denerim and seeing Queen Anora crowned. The official story said he had retired from public life to recover from the wounds he suffered in the final battle on Fort Drakon.
Rumors offered other scenarios. One said the Fereldan crown had imprisoned him to prevent rebellions in his name. Other rumors said that he escaped, but whether the escape was from imprisonment or his responsibilities was not always clear. A more poignant rumor said he had lost his love in the battle and could not face life without her. Many believed that the Fereldan Crown searched for him.
After some investigation, I discounted the Low Town Alistair's wild meanderings as that of a simple drunk. How could searchers not find him here in the obvious hideaway? He might have fought during the Blight, but his mumbled claims were ones any Fereldan would know. I did not believe he was the lost Prince. At least until the elf showed up.
The Hanged Man, Kirkwall === 9:33 Dragon
The night the elf appeared, Isabela, Fenris and I had not yet begun our game of Wicked Grace. Hawke and Aveline were no shows. In those days, Sebastian was not part of our little group. The drunk, Alistair, sat at his usual table, his back against the wall. We sat at my table drinking and talking. Suddenly, Isabela yelped as a blond, tattooed elf materialized at her side.
"Ah, my beautiful pirate, you have become lax. There was a time when even I could not sneak up on you."
Immediately on his feet, Fenris glared at the elf, but Isabela just laughed.
"Perhaps you're skills have improved, Zevran. Sneaking up on the Archdemon and such? Where is that lovely girl you used to travel with?" Isabela scanned the room. "Is she here? I have fond memories of her at the Pearl."
Zevran's face became immediately serious at that comment. "She died on Ft. Drakon, Isabela."
Isabela surprised Fenris and I by mirroring the elf's serious demeanor. "I'm sorry, Zev, I didn't know."
Zevran turned to Fenris and me. "Zevran Arainai. An old friend of Isabela's."
At this Isabela snorted. "The old friend who got me my ship and freed me of my husband."
Fenris hand slid to his sword.
"No, Fenris. Zev and I long ago resolved any differences. He's a friend and, as I've heard, no longer a Crow." She turned to Zevran, "Fenris and Varric Tethras."
"Ah, the story telling dwarf. I must remember to say only good things about myself. Ridiculously awesome would be the best way to describe me, Serah Tethras," Zevran offered.
I sat quietly and listened, hoping a story would emerge.
"What brings you to Kirkwall, Zev? Last I heard you stayed in Denerim to serve the Queen and her new husband." Isabela motioned for the elf to pull up a chair.
"And I still do serve them or, rather, General Loghain. That's why I am here." Zevran nodded to the drunk against the wall. "We've been searching for him for two years. I've come to try and take him home."
Isabela stared at the drunk, her eyes widening. "I was right then? It is him? The prince? He left because she died?"
So, Isabela had recognized him and not told us!
"More or less. He fought the final battle and lived, barely. He almost took the throne, but deferred to Anora after he recovered. He stayed for the coronation and then left. We all thought he just needed some time alone, but he disappeared. We only recently tracked him here."
"He's the Alistair who led the fight against the Archdemon?" I must have sounded skeptical, probably because I was.
The elf, Zevran, did not appreciate my tone. He glared. "He led Ferelden to its victory, yes. He lost everything he cared about on that roof."
"Maybe he should have stayed and become King. Or stayed with the wardens. Maybe what he needs is a purpose, not a pint."
Zev nodded. "That's a harsh judgment, but you have a point. He was young, only twenty years old. He'd spent his life losing anything that mattered to him. Losing her was the final straw."
I looked at the drunk. He looked much older than the twenty-two or three he must be if Zevran had his age right. His pasty complexion and paunch implied he could hardly make it to his room much less to the roof of some high tower to defeat an Archdemon. Yet he had coin, so he must work somewhere to earn it. He still carried a sword. I looked back at the elf.
"He believed, rightly, that he left Ferelden and the Ferelden Wardens in good hands. Queen Anora, King Fergus, General Loghain and the Hero want him to know he still has friends and hope he will come home. So, here I am."
The Hanged Man, Kirkwall === 9:45 Dragon
Zevran proceeded to 'rescue' the wandering prince. I never found out how he enticed him away from the Hanged Man or what happened afterward. I suspected Isabela knew more than she let on, but had convinced Fenris, if he knew anything, to say nothing. Zevran did not want The Prince's whereabouts or condition publicized. What I did know was that Alistair did not return to Ferelden. His was a story I would like to write, but the information was not available.
Later, I did hear about a warrior, called Alistair, based in Ansburg. Reputed to be a taciturn man of great talent, tales said this Alistair worked with a free company of mercenaries. Rumors named him a Grey Warden. Again, I had trouble matching the stories told of the fierce Grey Warden sell-sword with the lost Fereldan Prince I remembered. Little did I know then, that one day I would get to know the Grey Warden Sell-Sword Prince very well. And I would have a story.
