The Reason Why

Alistair had always wondered why there were only few women in the Grey Wardens.

Though, at the present time one could truly say that there was only one in the whole of Ferelden, and that was his—their leader, who knew how many lay elsewhere. At the present moment it was only him and her for when it came to the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, the only one they knew were each other. It could be said that they desperately clung to each other's existence in the face of the Blight.

Alistair didn't want to think about it, but the very idea of her…leaving – of he being the very last one – felt like a dagger to the lungs, it made it hard to breathe. He knew that he could never face this alone, not without her.

She'd dug into his heart and settled herself there, for good – Syrane Aeducan his Grey Warden dwarf.

If anyone had told him he'd fall in love with a dwarf before meeting her, before all this destruction, before the blight – he would've laughed and turned back to his cheese.

Yet here they were – he having revealed his heritage to her and in turn she informing him that she was basically an exiled princess. The bastard prince and the exiled princess –they last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden.

Here they were, in the Deep Roads – in search of a Paragon who may or may not be dead, with an arch demon on the lose, an army of darkspawn beneath their feet – an ex-templar, a drunken dwarf, a mage and their leader who had insisted that the rest of their party of misfits stay behind in Orzammar.

Here they were, Wynne's face grim, Oghren teeth were gritted as if he were trying to block out the sound and Syrane's face turning all the shades of deathly pale. Paler with each echo floating down the hallway, echoes that never stopped, never faltered and with each passing one Syrane looked more distraught, her throat catching with sobs.

For the first time since he'd met her, she looked absolutely terrified.

"First day, the come and catch everyone," the ominous chanting started to repeat again and it made him feel sick in the stomach. Sick, sick, sick – he wanted nothing more than to drag them out of there.

Something was still pushing him forward, was it the mission or the morbid curiosity?

Syrane's bright amber brown eyes caught his, 'please, take me out of here,' they pleaded.

Alistair grit his teeth, be strong for her, Alistair, be strong. He reached out and took her hand, and bent down to her ear, "We have to keep going, my lady." Her hand tightened in his and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself.

It was only moments later that they stumbled upon Hespith, and Alistair was slowly beginning to understand that horror. Next to him, Syrane flinched at the sight of the dwarven woman who was worse than dead.

"She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood," Hespith's strange tones, strange incoherency just made it worse, and it made him pull his other Grey Warden closer to him.

Her eyes were wide with terror.

To tell the truth, it was when they met the Broodmother that Alistair fully grasped how horrific it was. What they did to them, a fate worse than death.

"To touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them."

In the fight against the…terrible creature, Syrane acted in with the fierceness she did in any fight but Alistair wasn't fooled by the cocky remarks she made, covering up her fear. He didn't miss the way her eyes looked watery and the mumbled apology to the dead broodmother.

For the rest of the mission, he did not leave her side – his need to protect her, to help her roared inside him like lion, anger screamed within him whenever one of those creatures came near her, his fury growled when she was injured.

He knew now, why there weren't many women in the Grey Wardens.

--

Syrane awoke from her slumber to a well-bandaged head and to hear the muffled sounds of an argument outside the tent.

"You knew and you never considered mentioning it before what happened in that…place?" It was Alistair's voice, tones of anger not hidden.

"I had assumed you knew what happened to the women, Alistair," Wynne's voice was measured, cautious, "I saw what happened at Ostagar." There was a slight pause, "Despite what your precautions, Alistair, you cannot stop her from going near them. She is a Grey Warden, just as you are, it is her duty to fight the darkspawn and end the Blight."

Alistair groaned, "I can't believe I hadn't wondered what they did…I had presumed that those who survived were dragged under ground to become food!" he spat the last word, "That was horrible enough to imagine, now this? I cannot lose her, Wynne, not ever, not to that fate. Didn't you see how terrified she was?"

"Then do what you can to prevent it, Alistair, without getting in her way," Wynne said softly, "For she will be angered if you stop her from doing her duty, she is a capable woman – they wouldn't get her that easily."

"Thank you, Wynne," Alistair sighed, "Really."

"I suggest you return to her side, young man, at least to put your mind at ease," Wynne said, a chuckle coming though her words.

She shut her eyes quickly as the clanking of armour came closer to her tent and the flap opened. There was a sigh though she is unsure what emotion was mixed into it. He trudged past her and she opened her eyes to the sound of clanging and shuffling. "I had no idea this suddenly became your tent, Alistair."

"Andastre's flaming sword!" he barked out in surprise, "I didn't know you were actually awake."

"So, what's the occasion?" Syrane asked cheekily, "My birthday? Or your second birthday that may have accidentally slipped your mind?" She could tell immediately that he wasn't fooled by her façade.

He lay down beside her, his eyes lingering on the white cloth that wrapped around her head, "I just thought that you may need the company, when you awoke."

How wrong Morrigan was when she called him a fool. She went into brain freeze, struggled to come up with a 'really-I'm-absolutely-fine' answer, "Uhm taking off your shirt to comfort someone…that's really Alistair like of you…uh, but I'm fine rea—," he gave her that look, and his hand went to her own, that's when the heaving started as sobs forced their way up her thoat, "I…thank you." She cried the last part of that attempt to reassure him.

"Shhh," he murmured, pulling her towards him, one hand around her waist – the other stroking her copper hair. "We're away from all that now."

"We can never escape it," she moaned, her tears running onto his chest, "We're Grey Wardens, we exist to destroy darkspawn and we die fighting darkspawn…or become," she faltered, "become one of them."

"I won't let that happen," he growled, "Do you hear me? That. Will. Never. Happen."

"I heard you and Wynne," Syrane hiccuped, "All those women at Ostagar, they tried to fight it too, and maybe they're somewhere underground as well, now something they were fighting hard to destroy. If Duncan hadn't saved me from the Deep Roads when I was exiled, I would've…"

He kissed her fiercely, on her eyelids, kissed her tears, her cheeks, her forehead and attacked her lips again, "I'll protect you, you – the one who is always standing up for us, listening to our problems, leading us on, and always so brave. I'll protect you."

"Alistair," her voice was soft but firm, "Promise me…" she choked back a sob for a moment and her hand came up to rest against his cheek, her thumb running across his skin, "Promise me that when it comes down to it, if we are ever over run and all is lost, when it comes down to it you'll kill me. Promise me that."

He squeezed his eyes shut and he let out a moan of pain, she was asking him to kill her – but he could imagine what would happen otherwise, darkspawn dragging her to their lair whilst she screamed his name as he lay, a bleeding mess on the ground, trying in desperate vain to reach for her. He could not let that happen to her. "Even with my very last breath," he murmured roughly, his lips brushing her ear, "I promise you that I will never let them get you, my love. When it comes down to it, I'll die right beside you."

She grabbed his face in both her hands and kissed him fervently, "That's all I ask. I love you, Alistair."

"I love you, too." She was his Grey Warden, his dwarf princess, his family, his Syrane Aeducan – he would do whatever to save her from the horrific fate of the women of Ostagar.

--

Alistair could not fully describe how amazing it is to wake up with someone in his arms. To see her sleeping face, her arms clenched around him as they mumbled in her dreams – he wondered vaguely what she was dreaming about, the blight, her brothers, Orzammar, or them?

His curiosity was sated when his name squeezed through her lips and, chuckling, he lent down to press his lips against her forehead.

He knew why many women didn't become Grey Wardens and what horrifying fate awaited them in the darkness.

But if she hadn't become a Grey Warden, if this blight never happened, if she was never exiled, if Duncan hadn't been right where he had been when he met her, if all of those imperfect, destructive and tragic things had never happened – he would never had met her.

He was a lucky man.

--

A/N: The Dead Tenches freaked me out completely and Hespith's little poem/rhyme made it even worse – it'd be nice if the characters talked to your character about problems sometime – especially after seeing that, I wanted an Alistair cuddle :\

So, it was just something to think about – the horrifying fate and yes, it does contain spoilers.