AN: This chapter was originally much shorter, but I stumbled across a cut-scene when Alistair's approval fell really low in a playthrough. Needless to say, I snapped it up and threw it in here. I found it summed everything up better than I could have, even though I moved it to a different point in the story than where I found it. So the argument dialogue is half mine and half Bioware's. If you want to see some angry angsty Alistair, youtube it. It's harder than you think not to melt. Jesus, he's cute even when he's angry. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Quote by Joseph Farrell. Any familiar dialogue is from Bioware.


'If you go in for argument, take care of your temper. Your logic, if you have any, will take care of itself.'

They were all exhausted, that was plain as day. The climb up the tower was not doing anything to help the fact that he had not slept well for the past week. The problems of Redcliffe had taken their toll on this little party of theirs, and the final outcome had not left him pleased. As hard as he tried to justify Quyne's decision to let Isolde sacrifice herself, to justify that, if they had travelled to the tower for aid, they would be as stuck as they are now, his mind repeated to him that maybe there was another side to her that he'd never noticed. And now, she had practically given that templar over to a desire demon! He could barely contain his anger, and he wasn't sure if it had been the lack of sleep, their non-stop pace, the happenings since Ostagar or a combination of all three that caused him to utter his next words.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?

Three pairs of eyes looked at him curiously. The silence soon became overwhelming and Alistair huffed, "You! Care to tell me what exactly is going on?"

Both Leliana and Wynne turned to look at the petite elf, who was leaning heavily against the stone wall. Quyne tilted her head to the side in a confused gesture. Inside, Alistair could feel his blood boiling. How can she act so innocent? As if she hadn't condemned two people to their death, all for a lack of patience. Having had enough, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her into the First Enchanter's office, slamming the door behind them.

She looked up at him, uncertainty in her clear blue eyes. "Alistair, what is this all about?"

"Why didn't you fight? Why did you condemn that poor man to torture?"

He could tell she was shocked, but that didn't stop him. "Have you any idea what that demon will do to him? Keep him trapped until he wastes away to nothing but armour and bones, and then leave him to die!"

She tried to remove her arm from his splint-mail grasp, but his fingers grew tighter with each tug and pull. Noticing a lost cause when she saw one, she sighed and brushed her hair from her face with her free hand. "Understand, Alistair, I thought it might be for the best for him. He seemed happy-"

"Happy! Oh yes, happy to have fallen unsuspected into a desire demon's hands and be played for the rest of his life! And I supposed you thought it was for the best that Isolde die for what her son did?"

Quyne's eyes met his in a flash, searching for some hidden meaning to his words. He glared down at her and jerked her closer, ignoring the wince that graced her face. "You know that's not how it happened. She was willing to sacrifice herself for Connor's and the Arl's safety."

"There were other options! No one had to die."

"And you think I wanted her to die?"

He was thrown off by her yell. Using his moment of weakness, Quyne pulled her arm out of his hand and pushed him away from her. Staring her down, Alistair tried to find some form of falseness to her face. All he could see was a harsh mask of stoicism, the only thing giving her away being the glazed look in her eyes, the slight tremble of her lip.

Clearing her throat, she rolled her one shoulder and readjusted her vambrace, "Is there anything else?"

Her tone made his anger rear again, his blood boiling with another argument, "You're a Grey Warden. I know you weren't one for very long before Duncan and the rest were all killed, but that didn't mean you stopped being one!"

Her face remained calm, but Quyne's eye flashed dangerously, "What exactly is your issue, Alistair?"

"What exactly is my issue? I'm sorry, but did you think I was deaf as well as blind? Give me some credit."

He tried to breathe through his nose to calm himself, and placed his hands on her shoulders to try and steady his shaking. He hoped those tingles would bring him back down, "There is so much at stake."

She stared him straight in the eye, "You're welcome to go off on your own."

He dropped his hands at her deadpan, "Right, fat lot of good that would do me, wouldn't it? And because of that I have to stand by and watch you disgrace everything I hold dear?"

"The Grey Wardens do what is needed - not what is nice. That is something I learned from Duncan right from the start when he saved this murderer from execution."

He faltered for a moment, "Nice would be miles beyond where you are. I'm not even looking for 'nice'. I'm talking about being a decent human being."

He didn't notice the tears filling her eyes again, "I'm sorry, am I not good enough to suit you?"

In his anger, he never noticed the context of her words, "I don't think you're a good enough person to suit anyone. Duncan must have truly been desperate when he chose you. Or blind, take your pick. You don't even care about this incredibly important duty we have, do you?"

Her voice shook, and he wasn't sure why, "I'm doing the best I can."

"Really? It doesn't seem like it would be hard to do better; and if it is, I'd have to wonder why. Most people are capable of decency without needing practice."

At that very moment, Alistair realised he'd gone too far. He had no idea where his anger came from, he hadn't meant to say almost everything he had. He couldn't ever remember seeing a broken expression on a face before, and he knew he had probably ruined any chance of forgiveness with his last words. Horror filled his mind as he thought of how she could have read such words, and his first instinct was to throw himself off the tower. They stood in a tense silence, her stern gaze beating down on him. Finally, she shifted and her chin tilted out as though defying his very presence, "I'm sorry you feel that way."

At the lack of a retort, she walked towards the exit and stopped at the door. Looking over her shoulder, she caught Alistair's eye, "You undermine me in front of my men again, Warden, and I will not be so forgiving. Consider this a warning."

Alistair started, unsure of this frozen feeling inside of him. His heart sunk to a pit in the bottom of his stomach and he suddenly found himself swallowing a large lump. What had he done now?


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