Author's Note: Hello again!
I realized that I had completely forgotten to leave a link to a very friendly and talented Livejournal community devoted to all things Alistair, but equally receptive to lovers of all the other wonderful characters in Dragon Age: Origins! (How could you not love Zevran, after all?!) I put the link in my profile, but search for Swooping_is_bad and check out all the amazing stuff that people are posting there! I'm sure you all will love it there.
And since disclaimers can keep you safe: I still don't own most of the characters or places described within, except for the things that no one at BioWare would want. (Like my soul.)
No life was lived without regrets.
"What are regrets, Guardian?" Aliara's voice was contemplative, yet I worried; she had sketched a brief explanation of what had occurred before she became a Grey Warden and only to me. I worried that she would regret saying anything in front of us (Wynne, Leliana, and me as usual) or that she would say nothing, letting her feelings fester unchecked in her heart. I was intruding on an intimate moment, one that I did not want to see, but at the same time desperately needed to.
"I must ask the questions here, Pilgrim, but I am curious – you must know what regrets are to answer the question, yes?"
She waved her hand, so lost in thought that she betrayed her noble upbringing with that supercilious motion. "Regrets, Guardian, are merely an acknowledgement of the choices one could have made if they were someone, something, other than what they are. Everyone has regrets because everyone must make choices in their lives." The Guardian was clearly about to speak, but that noble gesturing came back in the sign of Shut up before I backhand you. "So my answer to you is yes, Guardian.
"Yes, I regret leaving my mother to die at my father's side. Yes, I regret not dying by their side." My throat clenched; the thought of her dying before we'd ever met felt akin to swallowing my sword. "Yes, I regret not going after my brother as soon as I could. Yes, I regret that I have not yet put my sword to Howe's treacherous neck." Her voice was as smooth as Lake Calenhad as dawn broke and fog rolled across its surface - and just as frigid. "But no, Guardian, those regrets do not make me a weaker person because I would choose a thousand times to leave at Duncan's side and to join the Grey Wardens. The Maker has chosen this path for me and I will not fail. My regrets do not allow for failure."
The Guardian looked at her then, truly saw her fierce expression and the ironclad determination in her stance, and he nodded slowly to her. "You do not look to the past to decide your fate, but to the possibilities of the future. That is quite rare."
"It is easy for someone else to judge you for your actions after the fact, but that doesn't mean they should," I said, firm in the belief that the Guardian should get his large sword shoved up his arse. She turned to lock gazes with me and clasped my hand in her own, an embrace of comrades to show her gratitude.
Wynne and Leliana both agreed with my defense of our beloved leader, but I cannot recall exactly what they said because the Guardian's heavy stare turned next to me. "You wish that you had been there at Ostagar, to shield Duncan from the final blow that killed him."
That was a below the belt hit if ever I'd heard one. I couldn't look at her as I answered, my voice unable to rise past a rough whisper, "Yes, I wish I had been there with him."
He moved on to question Leliana's belief in her vision and Wynne's life in the Circle, but I couldn't listen. I felt like I'd betrayed Aliara's confidence by uttering that truth.
Of course I wished I'd been with Duncan when he fell just I wished I could take his body from that place and bury it somewhere worthy of him. Maybe if I'd been there, the King wouldn't have died and this mess with Loghain would be settled. Maybe if I'd been there, Duncan would be alive instead of me and giving my lady the proper Grey Warden training and advice she had never received. Maybe things would be better if I had died and both of them, maybe all of the other Grey Wardens, had lived.
But they weren't here now. They weren't by her side and they weren't here to guide us. She had said it perfectly; I could no more choose my death than I could choose to be born something other than a bastard, but I could change my future. Hearing her voice that belief so confidently made me even more honored to fight by her side, but what if my answer had disappointed her?
I wouldn't have time to speak to her about it until after we had stood in the presence of Andraste's ashes. We passed through the flames, beholding the holiest site in Ferelden and I felt that the peacefulness of that place, the sacred and serene atmosphere, gave me a better understanding of the religious fervor that held so many people. Leliana's face was streaked with tears of joy and our lady had placed her gauntleted hand upon the bard's shoulder, a gentle smile as we just…absorbed the feelings of that place.
We rested in that foyer, because we would have to face the High Dragon pretending to be Andraste reborn once we went back to the mountain top. It was there that my fellow Warden sat beside me, quiet as she handed me a waterskin. "Thank you, my lady."
Eyebrow raised, the phrase worked just as I'd hoped. "Don't call me that, Alistair. I do have a name, you know."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure you do. What was it again? Oh, right, I remember…" I raised my hands in surrender after she gave me a good whack for that one. "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist. So what would you like to talk about…my lady?"
She glared at me for a moment before taking a swig from her own skin. "Do you want to talk about what the Guardian asked? Or…" the uncertainty was written all over her face, a weakness she'd never shown before, "did you…want to ask me about…what you heard? I know I haven't explained exactly what happened but, well…" she sighed, her head dropping to her free hand, arm propped up on one knee.
She looked defeated as she rubbed her hand wearily across her brow and pushed her hair back. I had so many questions, but I didn't want her to tell me her secrets just because some Guardian had forced them out of her. I wanted her to tell me when she felt the need to do so.
I've never had much experience with consoling beautiful women who might punch me for thinking they needed consoling, but I had a lot of spirit and she always seemed to see right through me anyway, so hopefully she'd understand what I was trying to do. I scooted closer to her until we were side-by-side from hip to shoulder. She looked up at me, head tilted in her hand, and her eyes were so full of sadness that my body took over for me; my arm went around her shoulders and pulled her gently against my chest.
Whether she understood my intentions or not, it had been the right thing to do: she buried her face against my shoulder, her nose cold against the base of my neck. Her legs were curled over my knees and as one of my hands held her still and tight, the other gently rubbed her back.
Aliara didn't cry, nor did she speak. I told her in a low voice exactly how proud I'd been to hear her answer to the Guardian's tough questions and my shame over only giving half of what I thought. I told her that I wished I was as quick and brilliant as Duncan had been or as legitimate a son as Cailan, but since I was neither, I was glad to be by her side, to aid her with all the skills and knowledge I did have. The hand I'd been using to trace large circles on her back was pulled into her grip, firm and unwavering. "Thank you, Alistair," she whispered, her warm breath catching on the tiny beads of sweat that rested on my skin.
Suddenly, I realized how closely we were seated. I felt all the places that she was touching me, that I was touching her, burning as if coated with the lava that flowed beneath Orzammar. Now that she had spoken, I was unsure of what to do; she wasn't attempting to disentangle herself, but maybe that was my move? Either way, I knew that she must've noticed the change in my demeanor. My heart was beating quickly, directly under her chin.
I pressed my cheek to the top of her head and took a deep breath, only to release it in a rush when I felt her raise our intertwined fingers to rest over my marathon-running heart. Do not panic, just savor this moment, I demanded of myself. I closed my eyes and inhaled, learning the natural scent that was Aliara – her hair, her scalp, her perspiration. I had no doubt that I smelled sweaty, myself, so I found it comforting that she was equally so.
I didn't realize that she had fallen asleep against me until Leliana crept silently to my other side, finger over her mouth to forestall any rambling protests I might have begun. "Today was harder on her than on us," she murmured, voice just a shade louder than a whisper.
"Yes, it was," I concurred at the same volume. Leliana had explained that the sound of whispers carried further than just a low quiet tone; a very helpful lesson, indeed. "Do you think I can lie down a bit without waking her?" Sitting up on the base of the stairs was starting to make my back twinge.
Leliana nodded and I carefully leaned back, smiling at her gratefully as I found a soft bundle under my head and neck. She returned the smile and clasped my shoulder, the one not occupied by our lady, before moving away to check on Wynne, I presumed. Aliara stirred briefly, hand smoothing over my upper chest distractingly and legs capturing one of my calves, but otherwise did not awaken. I left a kiss in her hair and joined her in the Fade, feeling more comfortable than I had in months.
