A lone figure in the Chantry sat in the front pew, head bowed reverently in prayer. The occasional sister would silently pass him by, understanding a need such as his. The Blight was over, the humans had won, and it was a good time to thank each and every lucky star out there.
Or so Alistair thought, as a velvety voice addressed him: "Hey."
His back stiffened, the next stanza of Transfigurations dying in his throat. No... it couldn't be... But a sneak of a glance revealed a pair of leather boots, crossed idly at the ankle and tapping a beat only she could hear. And he left his sword in his room...
"You see her, right there?" she asked. Pointing to a random sister stacking books in the corner, his ex-friend/lover continued. "I happen to know she has a great impression of Andraste. Wanna see?" When Alistair said nothing, he heard four cracks- her knuckles, both pointer and middle fingers. That always signalled that something awful was about to happen...
Surana snapped her fingers, and the same sister now was screaming, flames suddenly engulfing her robes. Below the petrified shrieks, he could hear her laughter, but a quick glance around showed no one suddenly rushing to her aid. Was it even happening? Maker knew how many times he fell for that trick, before.
"What, nothing to say?" she asked him. As her disgusted sigh met his growing silence, she waved her hand and dropped the illusion. But still, she would not be swayed. Using her most alluring voice, she crept closer to his spot on the pew. "Excuse me, Mr. Big And Strong Templar, I need someone to explore my Fade..." Having her hand caught before it reached the belt of his trousers, Surana pouted her full bottom lip, dropping her act. "C'mon, Alistair! Why won't you play with me?"
"Because you're dead," he insisted, finally looking at her. Dark green eyes, ones he grew lost in repeatedly, slowly blinked back at him. Long brown locks that he had seen caressed, brushed, bloodied and fisted, trailed down over the barely-there Chasind robes he hadn't seen for years. Still, his mind's eye could make out the details of her broken body, on top of Fort Drakon that fateful night... why was she here?!
Damn them both, she looked just like she always did.
"Now that's not very nice," she pouted again. "And after all I've done for you-"
"Shut up," Alistair hissed, sure he'd scream once she brought any one of those things up. But he should have known. Mary never listened to him while he was alive; why would her death change that?
The damnable mage laughed, full and rich, now grating to his ears, before she unfolded from her seat. He found himself scooting back, not wanting to touch anything as she straddled him, starting that all-too-familiar game. 'This can't be happening, please Maker, make this stop-'
"Why do you insist on praying to a being that doesn't answer you?" she asked him. "Just come talk to me, instead. Far easier, and you get answers right away..."
"Never," he growled.
"'Never'," she echoed. "Not even after The Time in The Chantry?"
"Shut up," he repeated louder, knowing exactly what she was talking about.
"When I had persuaded you to let me take you to the Maker's door?" With a laugh, she continued. "Zev simply couldn't say no; the man is as depraved as I am, which is saying a lot. You, who I could still persuade with a bat of my lashes... probably still feel the burn of your blush."
Alistair's fists clenched, but he didn't answer, putting all of his focus into his prayers.
"Sten, for all of his idiosyncrasies, saw my ultimate vision and irony, as did Morrigan... though she never could stay for long, silly thing. But," she murmured, leaning in. "You remember Leliana. Sweet, sweet bard... how she cried as we all defiled her Maker's temple..."
Alistair shuddered as he remembered.
"How she cried, even as she screamed in ecstasy."
His body hardened as he remembered.
"How you wouldn't stop taking her, watching and licking all of her tears away-"
"STOP IT!" he roared, rising to his feet. Mary was suddenly gone, but now he had gained the attention of the few sisters nearby. Embarrassment hot on his heels, he turned and strode away, only to find her shimmer into being right at the doors.
"I've told all of you, repeatedly. You can go to the darkest depths of Orzammar, to the furthest shores of Par Vollen, or anywhere in between. But there's no hiding from a love like mine."
Alistair watched as she disappeared again, before sighing in relief. She was gone, for now... how long would she stay away? Cracking his pointer and middle knuckles, he stepped out into the night and wondered.