Dislcaimer: See chapter one. Some direct quotes from the game.
Chapter 10
One week ago he had been imprisoned in Fort Drakon and awaiting execution. Now he had been crowned King of Ferelden and married. It was an odd sort of feeling to see his fellow Grey Warden -now his wife and Queen. Rowena moved through the crowd like it was water, smiling meekly and saying the appropriate things at the appropriate times. It was easy to forget sometimes, when they traversed about Ferelden with muck up onto their knees and the gore of darkspawn on the armor, that Rowena was born a Cousland. She was a noblewoman. Had not Arl Rendon Howe slaughtered her family- had not Duncan enlisted her into the Grey Warden this was probably the sort of life she would have led. A life of smiles and dresses.
Now she is smiling at something Zevran says and he feels an uneasy feeling trickle down his chest and settle in the pit of his stomach.
No matter how many times she has ensured him that the assassin could be trusted there was something about the smarmy bastard that irked him. Perhaps it was the way he smiled so easily at Rowena, or the way he seemed to find any excuse to touch her, her arm, her hand, or even her cheek. They were hugging now and to Alistair the embraced seemed overly long and he was certain Zevran´s hands were not suppose to slide up and down her back like that. Finally, they part, Zevran gives her another foppish bow, kisses her hand and then walks away. He can see Rowena watch his back for a long moment, before her shoulders slumped and she walks off in another direction.
For a moment he thinks to follow her, but then Fergus sweeps across the room to him to the side with an infectious grin, and presses a mug of something into his hand. Whatever had happened between Zevran and Rowena, Alistair thinks, as he grimaced into his mug, he supposes it is none of his business.
The day draws to an end, and one by one people slips off to find somewhere to sleep or to curl up on the floor in front of the fireplace. Fatigue settles into his bones and his limbs feels as heavy as lead as drags himself off to his chambers.
Alistair is not sure how long he has slept, before he felt the bed shift an move. He openes his eyes, his gaze darting about the room before it settles on the slim form sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Rowena?" he asks drowsily, stifling a yawn.
"I did not mean to wake you," she says in a strange and quiet voice.
He pushes himself up to study her more properly. She is clad in the same sky-blue dress she had worn at the ceremony, but her crown is gone, as is the heavy royal cloak he had draped about her shoulders. He can not quite see her expression, her face hidden somewhere in her dark locks.
"Is something wrong?" he asks, suddenly feeling fully awake. "Why are you here?"
She is quiet for a moment, the only sound he hears is her soft breathing and the slight rustling of fabric as she wrings her spindly fingers into the laces.
"Well" she says eventually with a soft, laugh "it is our wedding night."
Alistair suddenly feels hot and cold all at once, his heartbeat speeding up at the unsaid suggestion in her voice. He hasn´t even thought about -that-, despite the awkward lecture both Wynne and Fergus had given him before the ceremony. It was not like as if they were stranger to... -it-, but somehow it feels wrong to confess their familiarity. He is still ashamed at the way it had all played out. He feels his cheeks redden, and he isn´t sure if it is because of memory of the conversation or that the topic of it is sitting in his bed now.
"Oh," was all he can think to say, swallowing heavily.
"Well, if you do not-" Rowena starts, the barest hint of playfulness in her voice.
"Oh, I do, I mean-" he fumbles, painfully aware that he is sounding just as aroused and as eager as he feels
"You´ll need to help me with this then," Rowena says, twisting her back to him. Alistair hestiates for a moment, not really understanding what she is asking of him until he sees the never-ending line of small buttons running all the way from back of her neck to her...
"Maker´s breath" he mutters "how did they intend for you to get out of this thing?"
"Well" she says again, and now it is her turn to blush, "I suppose they assumed I would not be undressing myself."
His fingers shake as he tries to pry lose the small silk buttons. He can hear her breath quicken as he runs his fingers along her exposed skin. He feels foolishly thrilled that he is able to elicit such a response from her just by touching her back and now again he allows his eager fingers to linger longer than necessary.
Finally he pries free the last button and Rowena turns to look at him, her eyes wide and dark and her lips slightly parted. He cannot draw his eyes away from hers, yet part of his mind eagerly registers that the dress is already sliding down, exposing her thin and bare shoulders. However, it is the only thing he registers before every cell in his body is occupied with telling him that she is kissing him and that her mouth is warm, wet and soft. He runs his bare hands along her arms, sliding them across her shoulders and upwards to softly cup her chin. She sighs against him, and he leans back into the soft folds of the beds, pulling her with him.
Afterwards she lays next to him, her head propped on his chest and her fingers curled around his. Alistair cannot ever remember feeling more content, never more happy, than he is now. He lets his fingers comb through her hair and the sensation of her breath against his skin makes him feel tingly from head to toe. He would give anything for the moment not to end.
After a few moments of blissful quiet, she asks softly "they are close, are they not?"
Alistair closes his eyes at her words. The darkspawn. The Archdemon. He had feelt them, lingering at the outskirts of his thoughts and senses. That dark and twisted feeling that gnaws at him, growing hungrier and hungrier as they approach.
"Yes," he says. "Riordan thinks they will be upon us in a few days. He does not think it is the main horde, though, because he cannot...hear the Archdemon. It might be a small party sent out to gauge our position. Test our defenses."
"I did not know darkspawn thought so...strategically," Rowena murmurs against his chest.
"I suppose there is a lot about them we do not know," he replies, hating the conversation. He isn´t ready to think about the darkspawn on the Archdemon and what awaits him.
He can feel a shudder run through her body and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her closer. For a moment they lapse back into content silence, and for a moment Alistair hopes the topic has been dropped.
"Alistair..." she starts, and there is this odd catch to her voice. He hates how it sounds, weak and sad- it is the same voice she had spoken with in the prison cell and it breaks his heart to hear it now. It´s hard to reconcile the two women, the strong and passionate one who stood before them and made them all believe in him- and the frail woman that curls against him for warmth.
"Let´s not..." he says with determination "let´s not have any ´goodbye speeches.´ Not now, please-" he cannot finishes the sentence, because his own voice is failing him. All I want is a few more hours of this.
He thinks he feels her nod against his chest.
"Can we...can you at least make a promise," Rowena starts, quickly silencing his protests. "Not...a goodbye sort of promise," she adds.
"Alistair, you must not let this change you." At his continued silence she pushes herself up. He is already missing the warmth of her body against him, but she looks at him with her eyes brimming with an emotion he cannot quite read. Tenderness, despair, a mix between the two? She continues, her voice a little steadier now. "The man I know, the man I have travelled with for almost a year, he could always crack a smile, a joke, even in the thickets part of the Deep Roads. Please hold on to that in the time ahead."
"I´m not sure I understand-" Alistair says, but he never gets an explanation because she leans in and kisses him, hard and urgently and that sends all his questions scattering. Her hands finds his under the sheets and she squeezes his fingers hard, his breath catching in his throat. He is not quite certain if he is imaging the words she murmurs against his lips as she drags him down into the bed again.
The next time he awakes, the first rays of dawn is already creeping across the floor. The window is open admitting a cold chill that trickles down his spine. He shudders and grumbles, reaching for the warm person that was next to him, only to find the space empty. He rises slowly, an sore tenderness thudding behind his eyelids.
Rowena is gone along with her dress and shoes. As he slips on his clothes and stuffs his feet into his shoes he wonders if it is later than he thinks.
He pries the door open only to be faced with Leliana, a piece of a paper in one hand and a look of surprise on her face. "Good morning your, Majesty," she says with a small smile, tip-toeing to try and catch a glimpse of the room. After a moment of awkward silence, she asks "The Queen, she is...ah, not with you?"
"No she already rose," Alistair replies, stretching his arms and rubbing the back of her neck. The fleeting expression of despair on Leliana´s face does not go unnoticed and his stomach lurches.
"What is wrong, Leliana?" He demands, a sense of dreading spreading through his body.
"Ah, wrong-" she tries, her smile faltering. "We are just wondering where the Queen is."
"What do you mean- is Rowena gone?"
"We all assumed she was with...ah, you," Leliana starts, but Alistair quickly pushes past her to stalk down the corridor. He yanks the door to her room open. Her bed is made, and on it lies the blue dress with all its buttons. He walks in, feeling his heart thundering against his chestbone and even before he opens the doors to the old wardrobe, he knows what is he is going to traveling armor is gone, so is her enchanted cloak and boots. Starfang and Thorn, her sword and daggers are also missing. A few odd nicknacks rests on the shelves, a few potions, an odd end of books and a collection of smaller blades and arrows.
On her bed rests another blade, only recognizable as the Cousland family blade by its gilded scabbard. Whatever has occurred, it is clear that Rowena has left on her own accord, and that she was traveling light.
"What- where is she?" He says angrily, turning to Leliana. The bard clasps a hand over her mouth, shirking away from Alistair and he is suddenly aware that he is looming. He balls his hands into fists, feeling sick with rage and disappointment.
"A few of the guards saw her leave this morning," Riordan suddenly interrupts. Alistair spins around, glaring at the Orlesian Warden. "Along with that blonde elf. I´ve managed to convince them that they left on Warden business, but the truth is I do not know where they went. I could not risk any men following them."
Alistair sinks slowly to the bed, burying his face in his hands.
He does not quite know what to think. That she should abandon them all after the speech she gave to the Council about them standing united seemed impossible. But she had sounded so odd last night when she came to him, distant and sad. Was that her way of saying goodbye?
The silence in the room is heave and tense and it is only broken by Riordan´s cool, calculating voice. "People cannot know that she has left. If they do-everything we accomplished yesterday will be for naught."
Alistair does not respond, his breath growing thick and heavy in his throat. It takes all his will to stop himself from screaming, from taking the blade and throwing it against the wall and rip the dress apart, to not let himself surrender to the rage and despair that is howling in his mind.
"We will tell people she is resting, or preparing for the fight. When necessary, Leliana can play the part." With that, Riordan turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. After a second he can hear Leliana´s shuffling departure and he´s left alone in her empty room. He grabs the dress and brings it to his face, inhaling the scent that is uniquely her. Then he pushes it away and storms off.
Fergus, however, does not contain his rage and despair. As Alistair breaks the news to him in the same, cool manner that Riordan had, he throws a goblet against the wall so hard the metal is dented. He continues to seethe for a few moments, pacing and growling.
"I refuse to believe this," he cries with anger, slamming his fist against the table. "My sister would never shirk from her duty- even if the duty was forced on her. She is a Cousland."
"What do you mean-forced on her," Alistair says, gritting his teeth."I did not force her to-,"
"I did not mean that" Fergus says quickly in a low tight voice, "I meant the Grey Warden duty."
"It was not-" Alistair starts, but suddenly Fergus is grabbing the lapels of his tunic and pulling himself up to level with Alistair.
"She told me," Fergus hisses "-how this Duncan invoked the Right of Conscription on her when she refused to abandon our parents to their death at Howe´s men! ´The Blight demands sacrifice´ Duncan had told her- As if our family has not sacrificed enough for the Grey Wardens!"
He stares at Fergus stunned by this revelation. Rowena has never told him how she came to be in the Grey Warden and he had never though to ask. He wonders, for a brief moment, why he never asked- had her past simply not mattered to him? She had always seemed dedicated and committed to the Grey Warden and their task-was this only because she had to uphold her family´s responsibility?
"Rowena has left with that elf- Zevran" Alistair says finally, every word laced with poison. "And there is nothing that justifies abandon her duty to the Grey Wardens-to Ferelden"
"I refuse to believe you!"
"Fine! I hope you can force that conviction on a keep full of people- a keep full of people that yesterday entrusted Rowena with their lives and made her Queen."
Fergus finally releases Alistair, sinking slowly into a chair. Alistair stares at him for a moment and suddenly realizes Fergus´shoulders are shaking and that the young man is crying.
"For what it is worth," Alistair says, his voice strained "she has left you the Cousland family blade. It is in her room." He turns his back to Fergus and quietly leaves the room.
The rest of the day crawls by in a harrowing haze. There are preparations to complete and as darkness falls, first stream of refugees are sent out with a small escort of watches them leave from his window, their back braced against the cold wind and their head bent.
With a weary sigh he turns only to see Morrigan silhouetted against his fireplace, the light from the flames dancing across her skin. He has not even heard her enter the room, and for a second his mind reels at him for letting his guard down.
"Don´t be alarmed" she says coyly as if she´s reading his mind."T´is only I"
"Morrigan", Alistair says warily, whatever she is her for, he is in no mood to bicker with her.
"I have though that you had left," he grumbles. "Why are you still here?"
"Because my mother asked me to," she says as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Your mother?" Alistair sputters, "you had us kill her-why do you still care about any promises made to her?"
"I have a loop in your hole,"Her voice is as calm and smooth as black silk, her hands folded confidently across her chest, her head cocked coyly to the right and her sultry eyes watching him with unmasked amusement.
«I am in no mood for your games» Alistair growls, stalking past her towards her door. He holds it open, but she remains.
«I have a plan. A way out,» she continues undaunted. «I know what happens when the Grey Wardens slays the Archdemon.»
Alistair sowly closes the door, too stunned to even be feign ignorance.
«What do you mean, you know-»
«I know that a Grey Warden must be sacrificed to kill the Archdemon. And that sacrifice may be you or your friend Riordan. I have come to tell you that this need not be the case.»
Alistiar slowly closes the door. For a moment, he hesitates, then he turnes to Morrigan.
«What...is your propose?»