"Alistair!" Teagan said, coming to meet him and his party, eyes widening in surprise. "Good news, at last!"
Ever since Ostagar, everyone had been calling him Warden as if the title had replaced his name, making Alistair a function instead of a person. To be addressed with familiarity was a relief.
"Bann Teagan, you haven't changed at all since I last saw you!"
They hugged, and Alistair felt curious glances directed at his back. Stepping away, he introduced his companions and caught Leliana's inquiring look.
"I lived here at the stable until I was ten," he told her, suddenly uncomfortable.
Morrigan was the one to comment. "That explains your manners."
"At least I don't curdle milk just by looking at it," he shot back.
Glancing from her to Alistair, Teagan cleared his throat. "I fear, you came at a bad time, my friend. The village is besieged by the undead."
-[break]-
"If I never again smell the stench of rotting corpses set on fire, it will be too soon," Alistair muttered, wiping his damp forehead. After the night he had, he longed for a warm bath, a hearty meal, and a soft bed. Not that Alistair could have gotten any of those things anytime soon, of course, but the thought lingered, making his growling stomach ache with emptiness.
Meeting Isolde didn't even register on his Things That Will Sour My Day Further list. He had long since forgiven her and stopped feeling bitter.
"Isolde, you remember Alistair?" Teagan asked.
Seeing no recognition on her face even as she said, "Yes, yes, Alistair. Of course, I remember you," and then her dismissal, mind a thousand steps away — back at the castle… It stung. Alistair spent so long resenting her, and the Arlessa had forgotten all about him. Somehow it didn't seem fair.
"What is going on? What aren't you telling us?" he asked, tired of being treated like a see-through glass.
Flinching, Isolde spared him a glance, straightened, and demanded that Teagan "do something about his 'inappropriate behaviour.'"
"This is a waste of time," Sten said, and, wonder of wonders, Alistair felt the same.
"I agree, this is going nowhere. We came here to ask Earl Eamon's help, saved the village instead, and now you simply dismiss us? Your hospitality knows no boundaries, Lady Isolde." Fine, maybe he hadn't let go of all the bitterness, but there had been so much of it, something must have gone unnoticed.
His words shocked the Arlessa into silence. Teagan smoothed things over, as he always did, and a smidgen of irritation found its way to Alistair's heart. He was alone and on a mission, Earl Eamon could have died at any moment, and his loving wife couldn't even aсcept a freely given offer of assistance.
In just five minutes, Lady Isolde had managed to remind him of all the reasons Alistair couldn't stand her and rekindled the flames of his resentment.
-[break]-
Nothing since the start was simple, but a blood mage? A demon in Eamon's son's body? Alistair found that he didn't feel prepared for it to any more than he did for leadership. What did he do in his previous life? Drowned a sack full of kittens?! Was the universe conspiring against him?
"And suddenly I feel like thanking the Reverend Mother," Alistair muttered, cleansing the hall of the demon's magic. With more enjoyment than what would be prudent, he Holy Smote Teagan, freeing him from the mind control and thus ending the fight.
This time, they got the full story while Isolde sobbed and pleaded with Alistair to save her son.
"I say we kill the boy and be done with it." Morrigan shrugged her bare shoulders, looking for all the world like she was talking about putting down a lame pup. "He was weak enough to fall prey to a demon."
As if his weakness in the face of a tragedy was a valid reason to kill a child. Well, Alistair amended, apparently, for her it is.
"No! Please, I'm begging you!" Isolde was almost hysterical, and Alistair couldn't take it. He hated women's tears; they made him feel helpless.
"We are not killing Connor. This is my final decision."
Morrigan snorted. "As you wish, Warden." The way she said it, it could very well be a vile insult.
"But what do we do?" Leliana asked.
That was a good question. So good, in fact, that he kept asking it himself. It was quickly becoming his mantra. Sadly, Alistair had no idea what was the answer. To his surprise, Jowan saved him from admitting that truth.
"There is a solution." The mage strode forward, shrinking in on himself under their stares.
"I thought you'd be halfway to Denerim by now," Alistair blurted without thinking and brought with it a lovely argument on himself.
In the end, much to Sten and Morrigan's continuous disapproval, he chose to seek help from the Circle of Magi. However much he still disliked Isolde, she didn't deserve to die. And standing by his decision was made easier with Leliana smiling at him.
-[break]-
Later, in a quiet corner of the boat where no one could overhear — not counting Dog. Even if he could, his mabari wouldn't tell it anyone, anyway — Alistair told Leliana of his childhood and parentage. Granted, he could have chosen the words better.
"So you know, I probably should have told you sooner." Alistair paused, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. "I'm a royal bastard."
"Um…" Her face turned a curious shade of red. This was not a reaction he had expected, nor any one of the scenarios he'd imagined.
"Oh, laugh it up. I can't watch you holding it in anymore," he grumbled.
"I'm sorry," Leliana said between gales of laughter, "but this is —" a pause "— hilarious." And she broke into giggles. "Please don't be mad. It's just… You were so serious."
"I can never be mad at you." Alistair sighed. "My father was King Maric. I guess, what they say is true — he couldn't simply walk by a pretty maid." And so that story was out. What was it about Leliana that made him want to pour out his heart?
-[break]-
Disembarking from one boat, Alistair led the group to the ferryman that would take them to the Tower on another. Only, there already was someone with the same idea, and the man was refusing her.
"Look, I'm going to get there one way or another. If you don't take me across this sodding lake, I'll swim! And you know how well dwarves swim? Like a fucking axe! I'll drown! Do you want me to drown?"
The man shifted from foot to foot but didn't budge. "Not my problem. They said no one goes across the lake, and that means no dwarves, too. Swim like an axe or like a feather, I don't care."
The woman growled. "Lookie here, tin can, either you take me there on your boat, or you won't have a boat." For such a small person, she was ridiculously menacing.
The ferryman, twice her height and three times her width, cowed. "Hey, now! There's no need for threats—" he started, but Alistair interrupted the exchange.
"What's going on here?"
The woman turned to him, her expression clearing. "Oh, here you are!" she said in such a bright tone, as if he was the Maker himself.
Alistair blinked, taken aback by the attitude change, but decided to plough ahead, regardless. "We need to get to the Circle Tower," he said to the ferryman. "Grey Wardens' business."
"I have orders not to bring anyone there. The Tower is closed, anyway. But if you are Grey Wardens…" the ferryman drawled, thinking. This was his chance to get away from the pesky dwarf. "I guess I can make an exception."
"Finally, let's go!" The dwarf went around the ferryman to the boat, only to be stopped by his indignant cry,
"That didn't mean you!"
She whirled back to him. "I'm with them."
The ferryman snorted. "Yer a Grey Warden now?"
"Of course not." She actually looked affronted. But before the ferryman's smug 'that's what I thought' expression could take roots, she continued, pointing at Alistair, "This is my brother," like it should have been obvious to him from the start.
The smug expression turned into sceptical. "You don't look very much alike."
"He is my brother from a different mother. Our old man was into all sorts of women." The woman took a step toward him. "You have something against my mom? You don't like dwarves? Is that it?!" She looked like she was about to lunge at him and rip out his throat with her teeth, mabari-style, and still somehow she managed to be adorable.
Dog seemed envious.
It must be her big blue eyes and a blonde ponytail, Alistair thought. If it were up to him, he'd have caved the moment she glanced at him from under her eyelashes, saying, 'Please.' He must really dislike dwarves.
The poor man glanced at Alistair, wordlessly asking to end this one woman madhouse performance. He was, however, out of luck.
Deciding to play the part, Alistair put a hand on the hilt of his sword and, barely keeping a straight face, said in a grave tone, "My sister goes with us."
"Fine, fine." Backing away, the ferryman manoeuvred until Alistair was between him and the dwarf. "I won't even charge you. Just keep her away from me!"
-[break]-
"Thanks, man!" Natia said to the cute blondie as soon as the nug humper was out of earshot. "I owe you one."
He looked at her and, finally able to let go of the severe expression, broke out in a fit of unmanly giggles.
"Oh, that was good," he said after taking the laughter under control. "Don't mention it. It was the most fun I've had in… In a while. I keep imaging Sten saying things like" — he lowered his voice — "'Fun is irrelevant. It has no meaning. How will having fun help you fight the Blight?'" Abruptly, his mood dampened.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think she was really your sister," said his redhead companion, taking blondie's hand and giving it a squeeze. She didn't let it go immediately, lingering slightly longer than the gesture of friendship would require and subtly glancing at Natia in a significant way that all dusters knew well since a very young age.
Staking a claim? All the handsome ones are taken, huh? Natia though with dry amusement.
To Natia, the redhead said, smiling, "I'm Leliana, and your brother, as you no doubt know, is Alistair. His dog is called Dog."
"You named your dog Dog?" Natia raised her eyebrows and hooted with delight at Alistair's sheepish expression. "Good one! I'd do it, too!"
"Thanks." He blushed. Ancestors, this man was something. "I'll be sure to tell Morrigan that."
"So are you really Grey Wardens?"
"Only I am," Alistair said. "Though, Dog is an honorary Warden" — the dog woofed — "and Leliana is helping me with my mission. Our other two companions have stayed behind."
"Huh. So it's true what they say."
Alistair tensed. "What?"
"That there's only one Ostagar survivor from your Order." Thank fuck I didn't join it. Best decision of my life to date!
"Oh." He relaxed, but the corners of his mouth turned down. "I thought you were going to say that the Wardens betrayed the king."
"Nah, it's clearly a load of bullshit. Did you know you have a price on your head?"
"It was brought to my attention, yes." With clenched jaw and fire in his eyes, Alistair looked the part of a true warrior of legends, noble and strong, a griffon on his chest plate glinted in the last rays of the setting sun as he walked the steps leading to the Tower entrance. "Loghain will pay for his betrayal."
Following him through the doorway, Natia discreetly checked for drool. Well, maybe giving Duncan the slip wasn't the best decision. I'd have gotten to you first. If I've survived. Nope, false alarm. "Sure thing, cupcake." And before he could proceed this, "Oh, look, that moss-licker wasn't lying — the tin cans have barricaded the doors!"
-[break]-
During the negotiation of their way into the Tower, the dwarf, whose name he still didn't know, paled so much, her freckles stood out like blots of ink on a parchment. So Alistair was rather surprised to see her entering the Apprentice Quarters with them.
"What?" she asked at his inquiring look.
"Just wondering what a dwarf could possibly want in the Circle Tower so much as to risk a brutal death. Is it the books? I've heard they have quite a library here."
"I've never seen abominations, and I've a wager going that they aren't uglier than the darkspawn," she told him without breaking her stride. "Call me mad, but I need to check it."
Alistair's eyebrows attempted to hit his hairline. "That does sound mad."
She shrugged. "Don't knock it. I have good money riding on it." She paused, her eyes widening. "Oh, look, survivors."
-[break]-
Cleaning room after room of the horrible things that used to be people, Natia was cursing her timing, the Carta, Rogek, the Carta again for hoarding so many job opportunities, and the timing for good measure. If she hadn't stopped to make a quick coin helping to deliver messages for the Mage Collective, she'd have gotten to the Circle long before this shit storm broke out.
The abomination she was currently engaged with proved to be especially trying. Patience wearing thin, Natia screamed into its meaty face, "Die already, you weak willed fuck!"
"Need a hand?" Leliana asked.
"Make it three, and I'll take the deal!" she shouted back, wondering why would she need three additional hands and how easy it would make pickpocketing.
Three arrows flew into the abomination, braining it, and finally, it crumbled to the floor. Natia jumped aside, well out of range of the impending explosion. One time was more than enough.
"Thanks!"
Enemies dealt with, she looked around. A-and… there! A wardrobe in the corner drew her attention. She strolled to it and rapped her knuckles on the wooden panel.
"Knock knock, anyone home? Come out to play!" she singsonged.
The wardrobe answered in a frightened male voice, "Nobody's here! Go away!"
"It's safe now. We have killed all abominations," Leliana said, appearing next to Natia.
The doors opened just a crack, and a human face peered outside. "You've killed them all?"
"Yep." Natia squinted. He did fall under the right description. "Godwin?"
The door opened some more, and the man inside asked, his voice laced with suspicion, "Who wants to know?"
"Name's Natia. Your grandma sends her regards and a little something in a basket."
"What grandma?"
Natia levelled at him a meaningful glare. "A very grumpy one."
"Oh, right," Godwin said, crumpling the material of his robe, his eyes darting around, "Granny Agnes."
"Um-hum." Natia pulled a parcel with lyrium out of her bag and thrust it at the mage. "Enjoy the wine!"
"Right, thanks."
The parcel disappeared with such speed, even Natia was impressed. She pocketed her payment a bit slower.
"Pleasure doing business with you." The doors closed with a snap. "Asshole." In case I ever have to see you, coward, again, let's hope you won't think it was me who emptied your pockets.
"What was that?" Alistair said, done going through the content of bookcases and bureaus, the elderly mage, Wynne, and Dog standing behind his back.
Glancing at Leliana with the blank expression usually reserved for law enforcement agents — 'Move along, nothing to see here,' Natia said, "A simple business transaction."
Wynne frowned, but Alistair didn't pursue it further. "Fine, let's go."
-[break]-
The Sloth demon's trap was a hard blow. It didn't take long to figure out that what he was seeing wasn't real, but Alistair's heart clenched painfully in his chest. Duncan, alive and well, saying that the Blight is over, was too good to be real. With the turns his life had taken to following lately, his luck wasn't that good. But what really tipped Alistair off were Goldanna and her children. In Weisshaupt.
"Take your own form and fight me," he said to Duncan, bitter and angry, his lips — a hard line. "Hiding behind the avatars won't help you, demon."
"Fool! I have offered you peace, and you dare to refuse me? You will die like all your precious brothers!" At least, its voice no longer sounded like Duncan's. Slashing through his mentor's torso, Alistair tried to find comfort in that.
-[break]-
Stepping into the others' nightmares felt like invading their privacy. Only Dog's was simple and uncomplicated. Though Alistair did learn something about his new companion. She was sitting on a stone bench with another dwarf, a pretty redhead with an infant, bundled in an embroidered blanket, held in her arms.
"Alistair, come, join us. This is my sister, Rica," she said when he came through the portal. "She has caught her big break — gave birth to a son. Now she is some noble's concubine." Smiling, she nudged the demon in the side. "But she still wouldn't tell me who it is."
The demon lowered its head demurely. "I've told you, he is a very private person."
"Yeah, but now I'm his family, too, so what gives?"
"It is a demon," Alistair said, tired of mind games. "Don't listen to anything it tells you."
"That's a first," the dwarf snorted. "She has teeth when needed, all right, but nobody's ever called my sweet-tempered sister a demon."
Alistair sighed. "How did we get here?"
She raises an eyebrow. "By foot?"
"Think of what happened before it and where here is exactly." He watched as the realisation dawned, along with disappointment.
"Damn. I knew it was too good to be true." Jumping from the bench, she turned to the demon still wearing her sister's skin, daggers unsheathed. "All right, let's dance."
-[break]-
After the endless labyrinths of the Fade, Alistair was so glad to be back in the real world and not alone, he hugged Dog, fingers burrowing into his short fur and holding on for dear life. He felt bone-tired and weary, sick of all the death and destruction, but the ordeal had made him stronger, Alistair was sure of it.
Leliana came to stand next to him, her brows furrowed. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Alistair said into Dog's neck. Then he straightened, patted Dog on the head in parting, and turned to the others. "Dog needed reassurance after what that big bad demon showed him."
The mabari whined.
"Don't worry, puppy, we're going to find you a huge sugar bone soon. In fact, let's do it as soon as we are out of here," Alistair offered. "Sounds good?"
The dog answered with a resounding bark.
"I'll take it as a 'yes.'"
-[break]-
Meeting Cullen brought back memories of his life in the Chantry. It could have been me standing here, raving about killing all mages, Alistair thought. Gratefulness to Duncan for sparing him that fate flooded him and a sharp pain of loss pierced his heart. At that moment, Alistair knew with crystal clarity: he wouldn't find peace until the traitor was dead by his hand. He would do anything to make it happen. Anything less wouldn't satisfy the ache in his soul.
-[break]-
"That poor man," Wynne said later, when they had finally secured the Tower. She was watching Cullen talking to Knight-Commander. Every now and then, the young man would stare at the mages will such loathing, it made even Alistair's skin crawl.
"I can't imagine what horrors he must have endured," Wynne continued, shaking her head.
"Isn't it kind of the same experience that mages go through?" Alistair asked. That was bothering him from the start of this Tower of Horrors.
Wynne's voice grew cold. "What do you mean, Warden?"
"The Harrowing. Aren't you supposed to fight the demons on your own to prove that you can resist possession?"
"Well" — Wynne's lined forehead creased into new patterns — "I suppose it is not so dissimilar, but we, mages, spend our whole lives learning to and actively resisting demons…"
"And Templars learn the same thing. Before I became a Warden, I trained to be a Templar."
"You did?" Leliana asked. "I'd like to hear that story."
"There's nothing interesting to tell, really. But if you want to hear about my miserable life as an awful Templar, I'll tell you all about it later."
The Knight-Commander walked to them then, and the topic shifted to the Blight and treaties, Harrowing and its similarities to recent events soon forgotten.
-[break]-
"That was fun. Let's never do it again," Natia said to the group at large, standing at exactly the same spot where they met. The solid wood of the dock under her feet gave her a sense of stability after the uncomfortable sailing. Boats just weren't for her.
"It was good, fighting with you," Leliana said. "You were a great help."
"You weren't half bad yourself." Natia winked.
Alistair scratched the back of his neck, cleared his throat. "Why don't you join us? Dog and I would like to have someone who appreciates his name by our side."
"M—mm, maybe. What's in it for me?"
Alistair seemed taken aback. Maybe so far all the people who joined him were heroic altruists? Ah, no matter.
"Fighting for a good cause?" he suggested, his eyebrows raising slightly.
"A girl gotta eat, you know." Please, make it worth my time, blondie.
"Isn't it interesting how even during the Blight food still takes priority? Hmm… I'd go for a lamb stew myself, come to think of it." He tugged at his earlobe, thinking. "Part of the loot and pay for any jobs we take is yours. Will it do or do you want me to dance the marigold as well? I'm pretty good at it, you know."
"That depends. Will you wear a dress?"
Alistair looked skywards. "You had to ask that, didn't you?" He shook his head. "No, dresses is where I draw the line."
"Too bad, but I guess I can live with that," Natia said, keeping the serious expression in place. This human was fun to be around. "You've got yourself a deal."
"Excellent. Do I get to know your name now, or am I to continue calling you 'the pretty female dwarf' in my head?" he asked.
"You think me pretty?" Natia almost laughed at his nug-in-the-torchlight expression. That last bit must have slipped without his conscious decision.
"Well… You are," Alistair stammered. "Pretty, I mean. Objectively speaking. You don't have warts, or a crooked nose, or a hunch. That would be awful. And you have all your teeth. As far as I have seen. Not that I've been looking at your teeth! The would be weird. I've just noticed that you have nice teeth, white and straight, that's all." The more he talked, the deeper his blush went.
Not bothering to hide her grin anymore, Natia was thoroughly enjoying the show. To her right, Leliana looked like she couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or hide her face in her hands. Natia could sympathise.
"Maker, I'm just making it worse, aren't I?" Taking a deep breath, Alistair stared at the footworn planks. "I will just shut up and go find a convenient hole to hide. Maybe the darkspawn would like some company."
And hunching his shoulders, Alistair walked in the direction of another boat, Dog at his side.
Laughing, Natia strolled after them.
At least, I won't be bored.