It was warm here, much warmer than Ferelden. Yet why did he feel so cold?
He could barely open his eyes. His mind clouded over itself, the drink lapping away at his brain, corroding the memories. He felt no better.
It crept over his mind like a sickening rot.
'How could you do this to me? You of all people?'
Was that his voice? He groaned.
Her face. That saddened, drained face. It was hazy with mistakes.
'Please, Alistair, we can't lose this now. Think of all we've sacrificed to get here.'
Those eyes begged him, pleaded for him to understand... but he couldn't. There were people around. He remembered that much. He recalled the humiliation wrenching his stomach, praying to the Maker that he could be someplace else, with her there to discuss this. No other people. Not his friends, whom with he had fought for his life, whom he had laid down his life to protect. Was he truly being so immature? Was it so difficult for her to understand why this hateful murderer had to be slain? Everyone had gone mad, and it was unfortunate that he had to be the one to point that out.
'I can't do it.' He took another swig. The sounds were crystal clear. 'I can't.'
She didn't understand him at all. What a malicious little siren she was. He truly believed that she was the only girl for him, and yet she was a pitiless bitch underneath.
'Ask me for a pound of my flesh, or all the gold in Orlais..'. His voice was rough with heartbreak and grief.' ...but don't ask me to accept this monster as a brother!'
Loghain killed Duncan. She showed him compassion... a man who had ridiculed her and sent all sorts of ammunition to take her life from her.
Alistair loved her. She showed him nothing... after all that he had been through.
I guess I always knew I didn't deserve to be so happy.
I didn't expect you to agree.
Especially in front of all of Ferelden.
He stepped into the cold night... except it wasn't cold at all.
It was warm here, much warmer than Ferelden.
And that was why he felt so cold.