That You May Always Remember Me

Chapter 3

"here to help"

As a child Alistair never had an imaginary friend, but he imagined it was something like this. Everywhere he went she followed; watching, seemingly waiting, and sometimes looking like there was something she desperately wanted to say but just couldn't. He'd talk to her, but tried to make sure it was only when they were alone, and though she never responded he found that he was more at peace than he had been in a long time. Even if she was a sign of his descent into madness, it was looking like a slow descent and he saw no reason not to continue with his life as normal. At least until the Wardens eventually show up to drag him into the Deep Roads.

One morning he entered his room from the bath, vigorously rubbing his hair dry with a towel, to find Elissa standing at the end of the bed. This didn't surprise him, but the suitcase beside her caught his attention as he didn't remember it being there before. He walked up and peered inside, finding his clothes haphazardly thrown into it along with a few other personal items. Quirking an eyebrow at Elissa he asked, "Am I going somewhere?" She stared back, but there was an eagerness in her body language, making Alistair even more certain that she was the one who'd packed for him, though he couldn't even begin to fathom why. He shook his head at this newest strange occurrence. Elissa mostly just stood around and she'd never physically interacted with anything as far as he could tell. Not only was she capable of more than he realized, but she clearly wanted him to take some sort of trip. However, the beams of light entering the room from the rising sun reminded him that he had a meeting with the Denerim Arl very soon, and this would have to be sorted out at a later time.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Do you think I should have a nickname?" Alistair looked up from his book to Elissa, who stood in his office with him and failed to respond. "A lot of kings have things they're known for." He turned in his chair and threw his feet on top of the desk. "Calenhad was 'The Silver Knight'. What would I be… 'The Grey Warden'? No… something simpler. 'The Brave' or 'The Handsome'." Elissa stared blankly. "Well, I don't hear you making any suggestions."

A soft knock was followed by the door suddenly opening. He dropped his feet to the floor and threw his book onto the nearby couch to greet his wife. "Anora! Did you need something?"

She held out a small brown envelope. "A letter for you from Redcliffe."

Alistair took it and looked at her quizzically. "Thank you. I didn't realize you were moonlighting as a courier."

She wrung her hands like she always did when she had something to say but didn't know how to begin. "Actually, there was something I wanted to talk about." As she turned to close the door behind her and giver their conversation more privacy she caught sight of the painting Alistair had hung. "That's new," she commented, unconsciously frowning.

"Do you like it?" He rose from his seat to stand behind her and appreciate the work of art. "There's plenty down there. I could have one put in your office."

"Down there?" Anora's eyes widened in realization. "You went down there? To the room with all the…?"

Alistair attempted to shrug his blush away. "It seemed like time."

Anora stared at the stones in the wall just beneath the painting's frame, and eventually began, "I spoke to the doctor." Alistair grunted. "He said you're perfectly healthy."

"What a surprise," he mocked, moving to lean on the desk and crossing his arms. "He said the same thing to me."

Anora turned to face her husband. "But you're not, are you? I see it, Alistair. You stare into space, you've been running around asking strange questions…"

"Since when is curiosity a crime?"

Anora's face hardened. "People have heard you talking to yourself."

Alistair's chin dropped to his chest as he mumbled in response, "I'm not crazy."

"I'm not saying you are."

He looked up sharply. "Aren't you? Wouldn't it be just great for you if I lost my mind and had to be quietly taken away? You'd have exactly what you always wanted!"

"You still don't trust me after ten years?" Anora's hands were clenched into fists and her jaw was set and squared. "When, since our marriage began, have I ever attempted to force you off your throne? I'm trying to help you."

Alistair shut his eyes tightly and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. And you're right, something is still wrong with me." Elissa shifted where she stood nearby, and Alistair suddenly remembered his packed bag. "I'll be leaving in the morning. I'm going to find someone who can sort this all out. I trust you can keep everything running smoothly while I'm gone?"

Anora grinned. "I keep everything running smoothly while you're here." Alistair rolled his eyes in response, and Anora added in a softer tone, "I hope you find your answers."

He nodded, while thinking the same thing. He couldn't go on like this forever, and silently admitted to himself something he'd been trying to avoid. Whatever this vision of Elissa was and whatever caused it wasn't physical, spiritual, mental, or emotional. There was only one option left and it was one he dreaded: this was something magical. He didn't like magic; he didn't trust or understand it, but right now he needed someone who did. It couldn't be just any mage from the Circle, though; he needed one who specialized in the unusual and unheard of. Morrigan was still missing and he had no interest in tracking her down, so that left only one other option. When dawn broke the next morning, he set out on horseback with a small contingent of soldiers heading west: toward the Frostbacks and Skyhold.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Is the tea to your liking, Your Majesty?"

Alistair stirred the brown liquid absentmindedly. "It's fine."

Josephine smiled and daintily tidied her silver tea set. She was well-versed in the art of entertaining nobles, but the King of Fereldan was proving difficult. He'd rode into Skyhold unannounced only a short while ago, demanding to see the Inquisitor, who was unfortunately not in the fortress. She offered him a place to rest while he waited. He refused. She suggested a hearty meal and a glass of Antivan wine. He turned her down. He finally agreed to a cup of tea in her office, and though she maintained a calm demeanor, she had no idea how to keep him placated once the drinks were gone. He refused to discuss his business with anyone but the Inquisitor, and she couldn't help but wonder why it was he had travelled all this way. He was clearly impatient, fidgeting slightly, and his eyes kept darting to the corner of the room. Josephine heard that Alistair wasn't like other kings, but she wasn't prepared for this.

"I'd really like to see the Inquisitor as soon as possible."

Josephine sighed and placed her cup on its saucer. "As I've said, Your Majesty, the Inquisitor is currently…"

The door to the Ambassador's office flew open and Viola Lavellan strode in. Despite being covered in mud and dried blood she walked up to Alistair confidently and smiled. "It's good to see you again, Your…"

"Alistair," he corrected quickly standing to meet her and shake her calloused hand.

The Inquisitor's smile widened. "Alistair. To what do I owe the honor?"

He glanced at Josephine, who immediately understood the implications of this look. "I'll leave you two alone, then." She curtsied before politely taking leave of her own office.

Alistair squinted at Viola's face. He remembered her dark hair and purple eyes, but something seemed to be missing beneath the caked on dirt. "Didn't you used to have…?" he asked, motioning toward his own face with his hand.

Viola scrunched her nose. "Yes. And that's the extent to which I'd like to speak on the subject."

"Fair enough," he said, lifting his shoulders and dropping them down again. "I… need your help."

Viola's eyes brightened "Straight to it, then? I like that." She moved to sit in Josephine's chair.

Alistair's tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth. He turned words over in his head but they all had imaginary repercussions that he didn't feel like facing right now. 'Vision, ghost, crazy…' Ultimately he chose to simply point in the direction of Elissa and ask, "Do you see her?"

He knew the answer before Viola could word it; she was looking too far to the left. "See who?"

Alistair fell back into the chair in front of Josephine's desk, resting his elbows on his knees and dipping his head between them. "You know the Hero of Fereldan?" he asked, trying to form an explanation.

The Inquisitor narrowed her eyes and examined him closely. The last time she saw Alistair in Redcliffe he'd been… different. She impulsively touched her face. Then again, so had she. "I've heard of her."

Alistair peered back at the corner of the room. He knew he already seemed like a madman and didn't see any reason to keep his secrets any longer, so it all just fell out of him. "Well, I was in love with her and then she died. And I lived my life for 10 years, but lately… I've been seeing her. Everywhere I go, she's just… there! It's not her, though. Obviously it's not her… but what is she then?"

Viola looked back at the corner, still failing to focus on the correct spot. "You're seeing the dead Hero of Fereldan?" The king nodded. "How long?"

He shrugged. "A few weeks."

"Does she do anything?"

"Not really." Elissa folded her arms and Alistair wondered if this was a response. "She packed a bag for me once. I don't know what that means though."

"Does she say anything?"

"No! Like I said, she just stands there and stares." He glanced over toward his constant companion. "It's strange."

"Does she make you uncomfortable?"

He shifted as if his clothes suddenly itched. "The fact that she exists makes me uncomfortable, but her… She sort of makes me feel… better. It's hard to explain."

Viola nodded and leaned her elbows on the desk. "I understand why you came here, but contrary to popular belief, I don't have all the answers." Alistair's face fell, as the Inquisitor stood and smiled coyly. "But I do have a lot of friends. I'd like you to meet someone."

He watched her exit the room and wisely chose to follow. They left the main hall, descended the stone stairs, and walked silently to the tavern, where Viola continued to refuse to disclose their destination while climbing yet more stairs until they reached the top floor. A blonde boy in a large hat played silently with the air as the two of them approached.

"Alistair, this is Cole." The boy stood and looked at the king curiously from beneath the large brim of his hat. "Cole is… unique. He's part human and part…" Viola bit her lip and rolled her eyes. "spirit."

"Spirit?" Alistair asked, taking a step back. "Like from the Fade?"

"Yes," Cole responded, watching Alistair thoughtfully. "Just like your friend." Alistair looked behind him at Elissa, and realized Cole was examining her as well. "You can see her?"

"Of course. She's bright. Like I can hear her screaming with my eyes."

Alistair turned toward Elissa, who was looking back at Cole with an intensity he'd never witnessed before. "What do you mean? What is she?"

Cole took a step toward Elissa and shrugged nonchalantly. "She's like me."

"You mean a spirit of Compassion?" Viola asked. She looked at Alistair at if she'd had to explain spirits to many people before. "Compassion spirits are good. They help people."

"Yes," Cole agreed, eyes still locked with Elissa's. "She's here to help."

Alistair rubbed his temples. "So, let me get this straight. A spirit of Compassion has been following me around, trying to help me? Where did she come from?"

"The Fade," Cole explained in his usual simplistic manner. Viola shot him a look that he'd learned meant more words were needed. "She fell through the hole."

"A rift," Viola translated. She could see Alistair was still unnerved and put a comforting hand on his back. "There's your answer. I can open the Veil and send her back, and then this will all be over."

Alistair nodded and mumbled something as he followed the Inquisitor out the door and onto the garrisons. Cole and Elissa remained, however. He watched her with his large eyes and pursed his lips in anger that he couldn't understand her as well as he would have been able to had he not changed so much. "Something…?" he started, trying to piece together what he could of their silent conversation. "There's something more?"