Alistair groans and places his face in his hands, closing his eyes. Why did the wedding have to be tomorrow? Why did it have to be at all? He rubs the stubble on his cheeks and thinks, Something else for Anora to gripe about. If she's not complaining about the mabari, she's complaining about the way I smell or the way I dress. He chuckles to himself, That's what advisors are for right? Dressing me? So why doesn't she direct her complaints to them?
He sighs heavily and looks up at the tavern around him. It was amazing really, how little damage the Gnawed Noble Tavern took in that final assault against the dark spawn. Was it really only six months ago? Denerim was busily rebuilding, and with the number of craftsman that had arrived from out of town, most of the less severely damaged areas were already repaired, of course, the taverns were the first to be rebuilt. The city was bustling, and almost looking like normal again. Alistair rubs his chest over his heart, The scars the city bears will heal more rapidly than mine.
Six months! She's been gone for six months already. Why did it have to be her? It should have been me that took that final blow…..Alistair closes his eyes and shakes his head, understanding the reason WHY she had chosen to leave him behind. They had fought Loghain and his minions, and even made a marriage-pact with the devil, to place him on the throne and end the civil war so the Blight could be properly addressed.
He knew, as did she, that he would not have let her sacrifice herself, but then, what would they have fought so hard for if he had died? She had said, 'Alistair, you will be King, your place is here with your men.' He KNEW that, he really did, but the heart kept second guessing the mind. Maybe he shouldn't have been so glib when he knew she was going to her certain death, even if the others didn't, and told her to come back safely. How else was she supposed to reply other than 'We both know how this ends.'
He should have kissed her and told her how much he loved her, not acted like a King and said that her sacrifice would never be forgotten. I should have thrown caution to the wind and acted like a man, instead of a King. But it was my petty revenge on her for her leaving me. Alistair sighs again, with a sick feeling in his stomach. Not that we really had anything going, what claim to her did I have. After my first night with her, she kept sidestepping when I'd want to ask 'What about us?' Was she able to foresee what was to come? Was there someone else?
Maybe I should have let her say her piece when she came to my room the night before the battle. She looked….pensive, unusual for her. Instead I made jokes about being King and running out of cheese. So she muttered, 'I can't do this' and left. I wonder what she wanted? Alistair curses himself, why was hindsight so clear-sighted?
"Ah, Oghren, my short fellow, here's the blushing groom. Out for a last bid for freedom before making the final vows with the lovely yet not to be trusted Queen Anora? If so, what are you doing here? We could have a much better time at the Pearl." Alistair opens his eyes, and brings his attention to the face in front of him that went with that voice; how often he had wanted to plow his fist into that face.
"Zevran. Oghren." Alistair makes a motion for them to have a seat.
"Andraste's flaming tits! Why can't you humans make shorter seats!!! I look like a blighted stuffed nug!" Oghren complains as he levers himself onto the bench across from Alistair. Alistair thinks, Hmm, not wearing armor today. I wonder if that's why he usually stood when we'd go to a tavern?
Zevran chuckles, "And miss such a sight?" Oghren glares at the fancily dressed elf, "Mind what you say you genlock-lover, I could cut you in two with one blow."
Zevran slaps Oghren on the back and laughs, "My friend, the day a dwarf could cut me in half would be the day I willingly gave myself to the Crows to do with as they wished. I would have to be missing my legs for you to have a chance. Now wouldn't that be a sight? Would you still be able to get me I wonder?"
*harrumph* Oghren makes a face at the elf and drowns his mug of ale in gulp and motions for another to the waitress.
"So what brings you two out on such a fine day? Not looking for me I hope." Alistair takes a long drink from his mug and watches Zevran's face over the lip of his mug.
"Yes, my dear Alistair, looking for you. We were tasked with making sure you didn't run off."
"What? Run off? So you're the lap-dog of Anora now?"
Oghren snorts, and Alistair swears he saw ale come out of his nose, "Ha ha! By the stone's blood, never! That sour-pussed nug could turn a man to stone just by looking at him!" Oghren recalls who he was talking to, "Ahem, sorry about that there…."
"What our stout little friend is trying to say is that it was not Anora who sent us, but Eamon. He is worried that you might yet take off. Of course, he's more worried what the Banns would say to having Loghain's daughter on the throne by herself then if you are still here or not."
Alistair groans again, "Why me? If studying kingship and politics hasn't been hard enough, why do I have to marry…HER?" Alistair slams his mug onto the table, "Why did I agree to marry Anora? Damn my blighted blood!"
Zevran looks away, "You're not the only one feeling her loss, your Majesty." Alistair hates the emphasis Zevran placed on the last two words, making it sound more like a curse than a title. Heck, the title itself was enough of a curse.
Oghren frowns into his beer, feeling the sudden change of mood. "You know, Felsi's with child. If it's a girl, I'm naming it after her. "
Alistair looks at Oghren, surprised, he hadn't realized Oghren and she had been so close. "A dwarf with an elven name? What if you go back to Orzamar?"
"I won't be going back, the ale up here is too good. And what, have you lose your best General! Not bloody likely!" Oghren shakes his head, "But seriously, she's the best thing that ever happened to me. I probably would have drunk myself stone-deaf and dead if she hadn't come along."
Alistair nods his head, silent, and takes a drink from his mug. He watches Zevran, who was still looking away, and narrows his eyes at the elf. Alistair knew that she had grown close with her fellow elf, and had in fact, joined Zevran in his tent before Alistair himself had declared his feelings for her. Alistair wondered just how deeply the connection between the two of them had gone, and, if they had killed the assassin to begin with, if he would have had a better chance with her.
"I wonder what happened to Sten, after, everything, he just disappeared. Not even a 'Good bye and good luck'." Oghren muses, "I wonder what his name was anyway….it's like if you went around calling me General. Sten…ha, ha!"
Zevran turns and looks at the dwarf, "Yes, he left with as few words as possible, although, our fearless Grey Warden was always able to pull more words out of him than any of us. Did she ever learn his name, I wonder?"
"I don't think we'll be seeing Sten again." Alistair dismisses any further discussion of the silent Qunari.
"Speaking of leave-takings, after seeing you safely ensconced in Anora's arms, I myself will be leaving this fair city. I know, I know, the Ladies of Denerim will weep to see me gone, and the men will cheer." Zevran motions to the door as he makes a wry face.
Alistair grunts, he knew he'd be glad to see the elf gone, without seeing Zevran, he could immerse himself in his fantasies about what could have been with her. Plus, if there had been anything between her and Zevran, the way Zevran had been acting with the ladies of the court hadn't really been very respectful in his mind. Alistair glares at Zevran again for good measure, hoping he was making his 'bugger off dark spawn' face.
"Not bloody likely. You know, I hear the bets the lord and ladies take about you. 'Who will get the fancy-elf into bed first', they all wonder? And oh, sad to say, all bets are lost." Oghren chuckles, "Not that I mind, it's making my coffers all the richer. I'm making a nice silver off you playing hard to get, Elf."
Alistair starts and looks at Zevran. Zevran smiles, and Alistair notes the smile is fragile, and doesn't reach his eyes. "Ah, yes, that's me, the court jester, here for light amusements. But sadly to say, the court will have to do without me, and your purse will no longer grow heavier, Oghren. I find I can no longer handle being here in Denerim. The air is too heavy with the smell of wet dog and Alistair."
Oghren glances at the elf and takes a swig of ale, "Yeah, the wet dog smell. Keep telling yourself that and I might just believe you. So, where will you go?"
"What IS it with people making fun of me smelling? First Wynne, and Morrigan, even Lelieana, and she never had anything bad to say about anyone! I bathed as often as the rest of you!" Alistair grumps. He could imagine her rolling his eyes at his petulance, and instantly wishes he could unsay his outburst.
Zevran smirks at Alistair, "Well, when one is raised by flying dogs, one would expect you to smell like them." Alistair rolls his eyes, and wondered how long it took for that tidbit to get around the royal palace. Really, I should learn when to keep my mouth shut.
"I will be heading to my Antiva City, jewel of my past. I have heard the Crows are interested in my whereabouts again, and have decided, where is the last place they will look? Smart, no?"
Oghren shakes his head, "That's a death sentence, you know that. What a sodding waste."
"I thought you would become my head assassin! I turned you down, yes, but I thought you were joking at the time, and who knew if I was going to be King then? But now that I am King, I do find that I need your services. I mean, the head cook let the kitchen run out of cheese! If that isn't an assassinating worthy offense, I don't know what is!" Alistair suddenly feels things slipping through his fingers, like this was a door closing on the past. No matter how much he really didn't like the elf, and wishes he could feed him to the hounds, if he left, there would only be Oghren left, and Oghren hadn't known her as long. Everyone was moving on, he was the only one staying put.
"My dear Alistair, I find life is no longer as bright as it once was. Maybe I am bored, eh? So I find myself in need of adventure….. You? You will have Anora, and your kingdom. Oghren has his wife and child. And he will always remember her, and a more fitting tribute to our Grey Warden I couldn't imagine, but me? I have false dalliances that no longer amuse, and no one to keep me here. So I am off to see what further adventures await me. And really, what lack of faith you have in me, to think that I could be brought down by the Crows?" Zevran clicks his tongue in mock annoyance at the thought.
Oghren laughs and slaps the elf on the back, "Ha ha! Never lacking for ego….well, I hate to say this, but you will be missed. And not just because my purse won't be seeing more silvers on your account."
Zevran chuckles, "Well, as it is, I am not leaving yet. So what say you? Another round, to cheer on our reluctant bridegroom? I think well shall get him to the Pearl yet, we can't have such a green man going to the soft arms of Anora! Such things she would teach him, I shudder to think of! He must be forearmed!"
Alistair starts feeling sick at the thought of the wedding night with Anora, knowing it wasn't going to be at all like it was with her. He drowns the rest of his ale, "What the heck, another round, and then let's go to the Pearl. Surprise me!" As long as I don't wake up next to a roasted nug, Alistair thinks, It can't get any worse than Anora.