They fought their way back across the village, now a wreck of smashed and burnt out buildings, blood and other viscera underfoot which had already started to freeze in the cold night air and added another obstacle to their journey. There were less of the Red Templars now but they seemed to be drawn to him, or perhaps it was the lack of other targets.
They passed through the now shattered gates to reach the trebuchet, as The Iron Bull caught up with them. "I didn't want to let you have all the fun, boss," he said with a shrug. Alistair was again reminded that the Chargers were somewhere out there, hopefully well beyond the snow-packed valley and the remnants of the Templars' army and couldn't bring himself to turn the Qunari away.
It wasn't easy, to shift the trebuchet round, with the shadow of the dragon always overhead, but slowly, they managed it between waves of twisted Templars and shades. The worst came when a behemoth with the face of Knight-Captain Denam attacked, one entire side of his body was encased in red lyrium, his left hand one large lump of the stuff which he swung like a flail. They were nearly out of potions by the time he finally fell.
Once the trebuchet was in position facing the mountain behind the town and he was ready to fire it, Alistair sent the others away. There was no reason for them to die too. Cassandra promised to signal once they were clear.
The dragon strafed the area with fire as they fled back to the Chantry and the Elder One walked out of the flames. The dragon landed behind Alistair, trapping him between them. No matter, he hadn't expected to survive this, wanted their attention focused on him. Alistair forced himself to his feet, meeting the creature's gaze defiantly.
"Pretender," snarled the Elder One, his face twisted with scars. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."
Alistair squared his shoulders, facing him fully. "I'm not afraid of you, darkspawn."
There was a flicker of surprise across the creature's face then he smiled cruelly. "A mortal like yourself cannot understand. Know me, what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus."
Alistair frowned; he didn't understand what the creature meant but he had heard plenty about Corypheus from Varric. Wasn't Hawke supposed to have killed him? Obviously not well enough. What was it with enemies who refused to die? All he needed now was for the dragon to actually be Flemeth and his life would be complete.
Corypheus continued, clearly not expecting a reply. "You will kneel," he demanded.
"I will never kneel to you," Alistair said. This Elder One was indeed an ancient darkspawn as he had suspected, he could sense the crackle as taint called to taint. Just like the Architect, Corypheus was one of the original Magisters who had entered the Golden City and tainted it but he would be defeated the same. If only Kallian had explained better how she had managed it.
"You will always resist," Corypheus said dismissively. "It matters not." He held up a hand, displaying an intricately patterned metal orb, which began to glow with magical energy. "I am here for the Anchor. The process for removing it begins now.". He twisted his hand and flung the spell energy at Alistair.
He didn't have time to call on his Templar energies so he tried to dodge the bolt but it curled back towards him. As it connected the mark glowed with a bright light and pain knifed through his hand, up his arm. It felt like he'd put his hand into a fire or maybe a hailstorm as the energy sparked across his skin and he couldn't hardly bite back the cry of pain which wanted to escape.
"This is your fault, 'Herald,'" Corypheus sneered. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning and, instead of dying, you stole its purpose."
Even knowing he wouldn't live to tell anyone, it was gratifying to know he had thwarted a greater plot as the Conclave, even if the consequences had still been devastating, and he was glad to have the confirmation it had indeed been darkspawn he had sensed at the Conclave.
Corypheus gestured again, the agony growing as the spell energy was renewed. "I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."
Alistair gasped, cradling his marked hand against his chest as though it would help resist the magical assault. "You think I'm afraid of you? I've fought and killed darkspawn bigger and uglier than you. Dragons too," he forced out, even as he could feel its breath on the back of his neck. The pain intensified with another gesture and he curled in on himself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of crying out. It couldn't be much longer now, surely, he just had to wait for the signal.
"You understand so little," Corypheus jeered, "even as you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!"
Alistair spat out blood at him from where he had bitten through his lip. "I understand more than you know." If the Breach had been the Elder One's plan it hadn't worked how he had hoped and it would be harder to replicate, with the Temple of Sacred Ashes now destroyed.
Corypheus stepped closely, towered above him, before he grabbed him by the hand and lifted him up until the tips of his toes barely scratched the ground. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person," he said, his face mere inches from Alistair's own.
"And look how well that turned out for you both," Alistair goaded him. "Dumat dead for centuries and you locked in a prison."
The ancient darkspawn shook him like an unruly child, lifting him higher off the ground. Alistair gasped at the pain in his shoulder, feeling like it would dislocate. "For a thousand years I was confused," Corypheus said. "No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this Blighted world."
Alistair felt a moment of doubt at the last, a part of him wondering what if the darkspawn magister genuinely wanted to undo his mistakes, but he knew whatever Corypheus had planned it would be for his own benefit and not the rest of the world.
"Beg that I succeed," Corypheus finished, "for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!"
"Some gods never lived in that Golden City," Alistair spat out, refusing to let him have the last word and thinking of the Dalish's tales. He believed it the Maker, in Andraste, but anything he could say to hold the creature's attention was worth it.
Corypheus shook him a final time, before tossing him aside. He connected with some solid surface and slid down it onto the cold ground. Alistair shook his head, trying to focus before the pain began again, but the darkspawn was instead rambling about the Anchor being spoilt.
He stopped listening to his monologue as he realised it was the trebuchet he was leant against and then he saw a distant flare. The Inquisition had reached the tree line, he had bought them enough time.
Alistair forced himself to his feet, pushing away the pain; it would be over soon. He reached for the release and smiled at Corypheus saying, "In death, sacrifice," as he fired the trebuchet. The ground beneath him gave way as Haven was consumed by the ensuing avalanche, and the last thing he remembered was falling.
Fiona had joined with the Inquisition forces to repel the invaders. She knew well what Templars were capable of, even if she had never encountered their red lyrium infused forms before. She had walked amongst the mages, reassuring them they were not alone, reminding them of the bright future they were fighting for, even if she couldn't see it herself right now.
The battle had been frantic but at least it was easy to tell friend from foe when the enemy looked so obviously wrong. A smite had knocked the breath out of her, and most of her mana, but before she could react the Templar was caught up in another mage's blizzard. "It would be a shame if anything were to happen to you, my dear," First Enchanter Vivienne had said, as she swept past without helping her to her feet but Fiona merely gritted her teeth. She had met plenty of mages like Vivienne before, indoctrinated to prefer a gilded cage to freedom and she pitied the woman.
When the dragon came she remembered the fight in the Deep Roads, how Duncan had ridden on its back. She might be more experienced in magic now but she was probably as tired, having expended a great deal of magical energy on the Breach.
They made it to the Chantry, and she tried to collect all the free mages together, but there were too many people milling around in too small a space and she couldn't be certain she had found everyone; each time she tried to count, someone else had shifted. Several of them were walking wounded, but there were barely enough potions to save the critically injured and there were no pure spirit healers amongst them. As tired as she was, she dared not attempt to contact any spirits there with the Veil so thin.
The news passed through the crowd that there was a secret passage, they were evacuating Haven and she looked around, trying to find Alistair. She had seen him come into the Chantry just before the doors were closed but now couldn't spot him.
The crowd around the doors thinned as most pushed towards the escape route and Fiona was caught in the tow, trying to move against the flow of people but she couldn't leave until she knew Alistair was safe.
"Grand Enchanter, we have to go," Linnea said, somehow staying at her side. "The mages need you to lead them."
She shook her head distractedly. "Have you seen the Herald?"
"I'm sure he's fine," they said dismissively.
Fiona had thought the other mage knew of her relationship to Alistair, though it wasn't generally known to the Inquisition, but now she wondered. "I need to find him," she said, still looking around.
"You know he's going to want to stay at the rear," Linnea said. "We have to leave now."
"Go on without me," she told them. "I will catch you up."
She searched through the thinning crowd, increasingly panicky when she couldn't find her son, until she bumped into Commander Cullen who looked stern as he said, "Grand Enchanter, you can't stay here."
"I was looking for Alistair?" she said, aware of the quaver in her voice. She wouldn't normally let the ex-Templar intimidate her but Alistair's absence had her off-balance already. He had to be here somewhere.
"He went to face the Elder One," Cullen said, frowning. It was clear he didn't understand why she was concerned.
Fiona looked up at him uncomprehendingly. She hadn't even been aware the Elder One was present and surely Alistair wouldn't have left without saying anything.
There was a knocking on the door and when the remaining guards raised the bars, Seeker Cassandra and the giant Qunari stumbled through but Alistair wasn't with them.
"Where is he?" she asked, almost pleading.
The Qunari looked sympathetic as he told her, "The Herald stayed to trigger the avalanche."
No, she couldn't lose him. The world seemed to drop away and she could feel spirits pressing at her. /Yes, give into it./ She sunk to the ground, barely aware of what was going on around her.
When she failed to respond, she found herself picked up and carried down the passageway over the Qunari's broad shoulder. She tried repeatedly to pull herself together and then she would think again on her child, alone, facing a terrible enemy, and voices echoed in her head, promising her she could save him, or avenge it.
They suddenly came out into the cold mountain air, snow swirling on the wind, but Fiona hardly felt it. The Qunari put her back on her feet and she swayed, almost falling face first into the snow, then giving up and dropping to her knees, keening with her pain.
"What's the matter with her?" she heard someone ask distantly.
"Alistair..." was the only thing she could manage to say but even that drained her remaining energy. It was becoming hard to breathe through the heavy weight in her chest; perhaps it was true that it was possible to die of a broken heart.
The Orlesian accent in her ear was familiar and it took her a moment to realise it was Sister Leliana. "Alistair is a fighter. If anyone can survive this, it will be him."
Fiona wanted to believe it but she couldn't; life had never been that fair to her.
"Why does she care?" another onlooker commented snidely.
"He was her son," Leliana told them. Fiona could hardly bring herself to care about her secret being revealed now, what did it matter anymore?
The mood in their temporary camp was subdued and when they pushed on Fiona struggled to find the strength to keep up. Only the thought of the grandson she had never met, who deserved to know what had happened, kept her going, who else knew to tell them?
The Warden, Blackwall, walked at her side. When she tried to tell him to let her be, he insisted Alistair had said she was a Warden, which meant they looked out for each other. "It is the least I can do," he said.
When his strength was needed at the front to push through drifts, Solas walked with her or the newcomer, Cole. They had less to say, but she preferred the silence.
She couldn't allow herself to sleep, demons haunted her with offers of bringing him back, of what she could do to those who had abandoned him and she wasn't sure she was strong enough to resist them, but eventually she must have dozed as she awakened suddenly to find Solas leaning over her.
She could hear shouting from the rear and thought at first they must be under attack until she realised it was excitement not panic in their tones. She forced herself to pay attention to what the other mage was saying.
"They found him. The Herald, Alistair, the scouts found him. He's alive, they're bringing him here."
Was this a dream? Was he another demon sent to try her? But something in the other mage's eyes told her this was real and besides the Fade was never this cold. Fiona tried to stand in a rush, nearly blacking out as the strain finally hit her. She felt dizzy with relief as Solas helped her slowly make her way to the makeshift shelter set up for the healers.
After a long torturous trek through the snow and ice, Alistair had passed out within sight of the camp. He woke up the next time to find Fiona asleep beside him despite the argument going on only feet away as Cassandra and Cullen bickered over their next step.
Mother Giselle came by with fresh poultices for his frostbitten fingers and toes, seeming unperturbed by the discussions. She was careful not to disturb Fiona and he was grateful; the events of the last few days had taken a heavy toll on her.
"I see I should have stayed away longer," he joked, nodding his head at the two warriors, but the cleric shook her head.
"We have seen our defender stand... and fall," she explained. "And now we have seen him return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear."
Alistair shook off her comments. "That's ridiculous. I just did what needed to be done and got lucky." He almost wished he could tell them how 'miraculously' he had survived the Archdemon, even the version the Wardens had accepted, but both involved too much of other people's secrets.
"Is it so hard to accept what others believe?" Mother Giselle gave him a searching look.
"We need more than faith," he muttered. Then "I should probably try to calm matters," though he was reluctant to leave the warm hollow under the blankets.
"And let your mother wake to find you gone?" the woman asked.
Was that public knowledge now or had Fiona merely confided in her? Still, it was a good excuse to delay a little longer. "I suppose they don't need me now anyway. Corypheus is a real, physical threat, something people can unite against."
The look Mother Giselle gave him this time suggested she didn't think much of his intelligence but before he could protest she stepped towards the campfire and started singing "The Dawn Will Come." It was a well-known hymn but her meaning was clear, especially as one by one the others joined in until nearly the whole camp was singing.
It also woke Fiona, who would barely let him out of her sight. Alistair resolved to stay out of any more danger; with the Breach closed and Corypheus probably assuming him dead, the Inquisition should have no further need of him.
Solas pulled him and Fiona aside to speak privately, explaining the orb Corypheus wielded was of elven origin and that he was concerned how people would react on learning of it.
Alistair could appreciate his concern, but how he knew about it was another matter.
Solas explained he had seen such things in the Fade, foci used to channel ancient magics, but it seemed there was more he wasn't saying.
Still, he didn't want elves to be made a target any more than Solas did, was more than happy to keep such knowledge a secret. Maybe not from Leliana though, and Josephine should probably be made aware so she wasn't blindsided if it was later revealed.
Solas had a substantial distraction in mind though, in the shape of a possible base for the Inquisition, an ancient Avaar stronghold which he had again 'seen in the Fade.'
When they reached Skyhold it seemed incredible that a fortress of this size could have been hidden for so long but it was in poor condition. Though most of the stone structure was sound, including the outer walls, many of the buildings had no roofs or holes in their ceilings and much of the internal woodwork was damaged. It would take a lot of work to make it habitable, especially if they planned on staying here in the long-term.
Alistair kept telling himself it didn't matter to him, but somehow couldn't bring himself to tell the war council he would be leaving. Fiona seemed happy to stay and he spotted Connor, looking almost happy, always in the company of Dorian or The Iron Bull. As they settled in, sending out scouts and messengers to bring in much needed supplies, Alistair spotted the advisors deep in conversation.
Cassandra pulled him aside to talk about the latest arrivals; people were coming from nearby settlements to see the Inquisition but she was concerned the Elder One would equally be able to find them and learn that Alistair had survived. Skyhold was more defensible than Haven but it wouldn't be enough.
At this point, Alistair was beginning to admit to himself he wasn't going anywhere so he just shrugged. "It's nothing new to have someone want me dead," Alistair said. "Though it makes a change for out to be for something I actually did."
Cassandra rolled her eyes, she never appreciated his sense of humour. "The Anchor has power," she replied, "but it's not why you're still standing here."
Alistair brushed aside her compliments, it always made him feel uncomfortable after growing up always hearing how worthless he was. He hadn't done anything anyone else wouldn't have done in the situation, what choice had he had?
The Seeker refused to let him evade though. "You are that creature's rival because of what /you/ did," she insisted. "And we know it. All of us."
He realised when he saw Leliana waiting with a sword that they had some kind of public ceremony in mind and baulked. "Look, it was no big deal. After killing an Archdemon, Corypheus seemed pretty tame."
Cassandra's steely gaze pinned him as she continued as though he hasn't spoken. "The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who had /already/ been leading it."
It was worse than he had imagined. "No, no way," he held his hands up, backing away from them but out of the corner of his eye he saw a crowd gathering in the courtyard below. They had manoeuvred him into a position where he would have to refuse publicly; had they forgotten he had done just that before the Landsmeet? Then again the Inquisition was different. "I'm not leadership material," he protested. "Just ask Kallian. Or Anora. I never wanted this kind of responsibility."
But again Cassandra had him outdone. "There would be no Inquisition without you," she said firmly. "How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide."
Gritting his teeth, Alistair held her gaze. His mind raced, trying to find a way out, even as the courtyard filled up. Leliana proffered the sword at him again and he let out a deep sigh. He didn't want to think about how Anora would react when she heard but he imagined Kallian and Morrigan would both laugh themselves sick.
Reluctantly he took the sword from Leliana's outstretched hands. It was a beautiful weapon, well-balanced and the perfect length. He stepped forward to see the crowd fully, Cullen alongside Josephine right there at the front, despite their previous disagreements.
He caught sight of Fiona standing near the back of the courtyard, Connor at her side. "I'll stand for what's right," he warned them but Leliana's only smiled approvingly.
Cassandra looked out into the crowd, asking in a loud, clear voice, "Have the people been told?"
Josephine answered with a beaming smile.
The Seeker continued, "And will they follow?"
Cullen drew his sword in answer, turning to the crowd. "Inquisition! Will you follow?"
The answering cheers were almost deafening and Alistair felt overwhelmed by their support. He might not want this but he swore then and there he would be the best job he could.
"Your leader!" Cullen declared. "Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!"
Alistair lofted the sword high, despite his misgivings, forcing himself to ignore the churning of his stomach as the crowd cheered him again.