Author's Notes: So, to any of those we just happened to stumble upon my story, welcome! This is my first story, well, that I've posted, so be gentle.
The plot/idea for this story came to me just by chance actually. It had come during a restless night, where I couldn't sleep. "What if my P.C. died?" I thought to myself. (I was playing as a human noble, Elissa Cousland). How would the party members react? How would Alistair react? And what if they met someone...someone else who would help them. Since then, only more sleepless nights followed as a story started to create itself in my head and a new character started to develop, with an interesting past. It came to the point where the ideas in my head had to be written out. I was loosing too much precious sleep over it.
But enough about that. Just thought I'd give a little background info on where the story came from. Mind you, the story is based on the gameplay that happens in Dragon Age: Origins, but I do have a terrible memory so if any events are in the wrong place or something, don't be alarmed. I took some liberities of changing some things, adding in bits here, skipping parts there, so that it would fit with this new character that I have envisioned. Also, the whole time line of the game has me completely confused. I have no idea how long everything was supposed to take, so I just based the time line of this story (such as for travelling, fighting the blight, gathering treaties...etc) on how long I thought it had taken them.
I thank any one who actually took the time to read this, and reviews will always be welcome. I could use suggestions/comments/opinions on what you think and how I could make it better.
Chapter One: A Stormy Night
It was a dark day in Denerim; the city folk had just heard that Teryn Loghain was announcing himself as king, a group of weary fighters sat quietly in the corner of a tavern, mourning the loss of their leader and friend, and a hooded, shadowed figure walked quietly through the alley ways in the downpour of rain. None of them knew that, by the force of what may have been the Maker or just pure coincidence, all their paths would cross, and their lives would change forever.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Alistair stared out the window as rain poured. The tavern was full of hustle and bustle, mainly those who had been caught in the rain and now seeked warm refuge. He sighed and turned back to the third glass of ale in front of him. He felt the table's eyes on him and he looked up to meet their gazes; Morrigan on the edge, Zevran next to her, then Leliana and Sten on his left.
"Here you are," Smiled the tavern maid cheerfully, and placed their food down on the table.
"Thank you, Madam," Zevran smiled. She winked at him as she left.
"And they call this food?" Morrigan inquired as she poked it, "It looks like someone cut up a piece of darkspawn and put it on a plate."
"Just shut it, Morrigan. Just eat it," Alistair snapped; he wasn't in the mood for her self-righteous attitude. He cut off a piece and put in his mouth.
"On the other hand…it tastes just as bad as it looks." He spat it back out and pushed the plate away.
"You should be grateful you even have food to eat," Sten replied, already half finished with his plate.
"Here, you can have mine then." Morrigan pushed her plate across the table.
"Gladly." Sten placed the meat onto his plate.
"Well, if we're not about to receive any real food, I think I'd like to retire to my room. All of this," She motioned to the din of the tavern, "is starting to make my head ache." Morrigan got up and walked over to the other side of the tavern, where the stairs led up to their rooms that they had rented for the time being. Alistair stretched across the table for Morrigan's glass of ale. A gentle had stopped him.
"Do you think that is the best way to deal with this?" Leliana asked him.
"Right now," Alistair took hold of the glass, "it's the only way I know how."
"I understand you're grief, I feel it too…but drowning the pain in alcohol will not fix it."
"Even a temporary fix is better than none." He took a swig from the glass.
"My good man," Zevran started, "I know I have not been with you very long, but let me just say, we all feel the same pain at the moment. Even the Quanari, who doesn't show any emotion."
"You know nothing of the sort!" Alistair cried, picking up the dagger that had been lying on the table, now pointing it at Zevran's throat, "You shouldn't even be here! And neither should he," he continued, now pointing at Sten.
"Alistair, please-" Leliana tried to speak but was interrupted.
"Maybe, but it was she who saw it in her heart to give us another chance. If it was not for her, we'd surely be dead," Zevran replied to Alistair.
"He is right," Leliana agreed.
"Enough!" Alistair slammed the dagger into the table top, standing up. The tavern now had fallen into silence, "You should be dead, both of you, that's what you deserve. But she was too kind for her own good and didn't know any better, so she dragged you along. She should have killed you there on the spot or left you to die at the hand of darkspawn. That would have been more fitting!"
"Please, Alistair, calm down. Do not do this," Leliana stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Sit down." She could see the owner of the tavern beginning to grow agitated. One fight would cause a mass brawl.
"Leave me alone, woman!" He shrugged her off. Leliana stared at him in shock.
"Grey Warden or not, I'm not standing for a fight here in my pub," The owner said as he walked over to their table, "Now shut up or get out."
Alistair narrowed his eyes at him, "I'm a paying patron. You cannot kick me out."
"Watch me, boy."
Before anyone could stop him, Alistair had clambered over the table top and lunging at the tavern owner. But, he was a stumbling idiot and could not direct his punches. So, it was not difficult for the tavern owner to place a square punch on the jaw, sending Alistair crashing to the floor. The owner opened the door, while Alistair spat out blood, picked him up and threw him out into the mud and rain.
"And don't come back and until you've sobered up!" The owner shouted at him angrily over the pouring of the rain, throwing out Alistair's dagger too. "You are a disgrace to the Grey Warden's name." He gave Alistair one last look and slammed the door shut.
Alistair forced himself onto his feet, picking up the dagger. The blood that had dried on it washed off, running down his hand and dripping into the mud. Blood…so much blood…so much death, already seeped into this land…He sheathed the dagger before setting off in the opposite direction of the tavern. He wanted to be as far away from it at the moment as possible. He stumbled in the mud as his boots slipped; his drunkenness was not helping either. His armour clinked as he walked, echoing on the buildings around him. There was not a soul out in this rain; not even a mouse. Even the darkspawn would have crawled back into the ground to get away from it.
"What do they know? Bah!" He spat out another mouthful of blood, "Nothing. Nothing, that's right. They knew nothing of her. Nothing, nothing…"
By now he was soaked to the bone and the cold had started to set in. He shivered, and there were not many places that he could try to get out of the rain. And at this time of night, no one would be willing to take in a drunken solider like himself…especially not a Grey Warden. Not with the reputation they had at the moment…the tavern owner had willingly given them the rooms, for a discounted price aswell, because his father had been a Grey Warden and knew that they were not capable of the treachery that was being rumoured. He had also promised to keep their presence a secret. He had no choice but to go back to the tavern…but he was not ready. Not yet. He walked a little further before spotting a covered alley way. He ran to take advantage of its shelter. It was not much, but at least it would keep him a bit drier.
There was an uneasy presence in the alley. Alistair looked over his shoulder, but could not see anything further down its blackness. It was not darkspawn…he knew that. His senses would have gone wild by now, and they would have attacked. It was probably just the alcohol. He turned back to view the street. Out of nowhere, he felt a sharpened pain hit him in the back, and before he could reach for his dagger, was pinned to the wall, with the blade pressed to his jugular. Definitely not darkspawn…Alistair thought.
"Coin," The hooded figure demanded.
"I have none," Alistair replied; he could not see the figure's face. The blade pressed a little closer.
"I swear, I have none!" Alistair pleaded.
"Wasted all on ale, no doubt," The figure replied. Alistair was shocked to hear that it belonged to a woman, "I guess, I'll just have to kill you then."
"Do you really want to kill a Grey Warden?" Alistair was hoping that his thief didn't believe the rumours that had been going around. He was in luck; he felt the blade lessen on his throat. The figure hesitated. Alistair didn't know what to expect next. He would either have his throat slit or be spared.
"Grey Warden?" The dagger lessened on his throat even more.
"That's right," Alistair saw his moment, but he was too slow for the thief. Now his arm was pinned awkwardly against his back, and the dagger back on his neck.
"Stupid move for a Grey Warden," the thief whispered in his ear, "but then again, I would have expected a Grey Warden to have disarmed me by now. I am sorely unimpressed."
Alistair decided to keep his mouth shut for now. There were a few uneasy moments, with the dagger's edge pressed close to his throat.
"Fine…go," The thief released his arm and pushed him away from her, "Before I change my mind." Alistair didn't know what to make of this woman or what just happened. He walked back out into the rain.
"Grey Warden!" The figure called to him. He turned around. She now stood in the rain and the moonlight hit her crimson cape, still not giving her face away. "I think this belongs to you." She threw him the dagger, and he caught it by the handle. Alistair caressed the dagger in his hand, the emerald green hilt, with dragons etched, and intertwined with each other, on the blade. When he looked back up, the woman was gone. He hadn't even heard her leave.
Author's Notes: Well, I hope that was enjoyable! I hope that it has convinced you to read on, and hopefully you will.
This is a very...different side of Alistair. One not shown in the game. Well, when I played through it anyway. This is how I imagined Alistair would deal with the death of his fellow Grey Warden. Don't worry he isn't moppy and depressed and drunk all the time! His cheerful, bubbly self will be along in no time!
Also, if anyone could give me some tips on editing these things, layout wise, I can't get breaks where I want them, or take them away like I want either.