Alistair's Promise

'I'll never get used to how cold castles are.' Alistair murmured; his voice dripped with pleasure. Contentment. He was easy to please as a puppy. He nuzzled his face into Elissa's thick blonde hair and she smiled slightly at the tickle of his stubble as his hands explored her muscular frame.

They lay entwined on the bed, two naked bodies. Elissa could feel the sweat cooling on her skin and shivered. It had not seemed such a cold room a moment before. Elissa dragged the thick woolen blankets over them. She could hear Oghren's faint, slurred song as he wandered the halls of Redcliffe Castle. Drunk again and dreading the dawn. As they all were. Elissa had seen Sten patrolling the grounds of the fortress with her mabari hound. Her pup was the only one who really understood the huge qunari. Leliana would be praying in the Chantry. She had only grown more devout since they had found the Urn. If that were possible. Wynne was ensconced in the library, curled into the corner when Elissa had bid her good night. She had smiled with those tired eyes. Zevran, of course, what else? He was in the kitchens with a gaggle of elven servants swooning over him. Shale. It . . . she stood guard at the gate. Her long imprisonment, locked in her own body had apparently taught her an inhuman, a golem patience. She could stand still for hours. And Morrigan. Gone. Morrigan had left that night. After Elissa had refused her. Refused to even contemplate asking Alistair to perform her perverse ritual. She had left, furious and raging. On the eve of disaster. And it had stung. Morrigan was a friend, so Elissa had thought. She had chipped away at the witch's armour, patiently and carefully and seen a glimpse of a person within. Young and naïve, with dark and terrible powers that disguised her simple innocence. And now gone.

Elissa's eyes were drawn, again and again back to her armour. Her helmet was propped on a thick, sturdy Ferelden chair. She felt exposed without the (once claustrophobic) embrace of that helmet, even there, secure behind a locked door, lying in a bed with her lover. She felt more Elissa now peering through the visor than she did with her scarred face bared. Her longsword lay within easy reach on the rug beside the bed. Her tunic, that she had resented for a time, the silver-blue that had stripped her of her family name was draped over the chair. And her breastplate hung from a frame. Stamped with the griffon of the Grey Wardens. The candlelight flickered against the steel so that the griffon seemed to flap its powerful wings. Elissa felt a sardonic smile tug at her mouth.

'In Death; Sacrifice.' She murmured. Riordan had explained that night what was expected of them. That the warden who killed the archdemon killed themselves. That Elissa had been marked for death as soon as the bitter taste of the Joining potion had poisoned her lips. That victory was death.

A sudden panic groped at Elissa's chest. She almost leaped out of bed. Find Morrigan, agree to her insanity, it would be a simple thing to convince Alistair. They would live. They could live.

Elissa turned her head slightly. Alistair's eyes were closed. His face slumped against the pillow as Elissa's hair tumbled over his cheek. She matched his deep breaths and felt her chest relax, felt her panic fade. No, it was too late for that. She had chosen honour. Again.

Alistair must have felt her movement. His eye flickered open. 'I dozed off.' He smiled blearily.

'How can you sleep, with what is coming tomorrow?' Elissa asked him. She traced a finger across his lips.

'I have been in a state of perpetual exhaustion for the past year.' Alistair propped himself up on his elbows, his arms rippling with muscle. 'Now we're here. You can't sleep? I could serenade you. Or recite Orlesian poetry. Or have Leliana recite Orlesian poetry as I only know two rather rude limericks. A shoulder massage, perhaps. I could . . .' He kissed her fingers, 'I could stop talking and let you speak.'

Elissa scrubbed at her hair. 'I wouldn't sleep, even if I could. I don't want the Archdemon in my head. I'll see him tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow is a problem for tomorrow.' Alistair turned over and lay on his back. He clasped his hands across his sculpted belly. 'Do you remember that ogre in the Deep Roads with the janky eye? I mean, it was janky after Leliana-'

'Tomorrow is our problem.' Elissa interrupted. She propped her back against the rough, homespun pillows. She watched Alistair's eyes widen nervously but she pressed on. 'Alistair, tomorrow we will face the Archdemon. Finally.' She exhaled through her mouth. 'There is something I want to say to you.'

Alistair sat up. Almost as though he were trying to make space between them. 'Let's not do this.'

'Why not?' Elissa demanded.

'Because it's depressing and I don't want to be depressing with you.' Alistair tried for that chiselled, though slightly goofy smile that kept knocking her over.

Elissa took his hand in hers. She could feel the scar in his palm, badly sewn up, (before they'd met Wynne), the result of a Darkspawn arrow. 'We might not get a chance tomorrow.' She whispered.

Alistair sighed. 'Elissa, please don't. Let's do anything else. Anything. I'll let you teach me how to dance! I'll need to know for when I am king and you are queen.'

Elissa slapped her hands furiously into her lap. 'That's exactly it, Alistair! One of us at least will be dead tomorrow. Probably both of us! The horde outnumbers us by thousands. Even if we get through it, we will have to kill the Archdemon. And that means even if we win, somehow, against all logic and reason, we lose.' Elissa chuckled humourlessly. 'We have to lose in the right way.'

Alistair was staring at Elissa's naked legs. Or staring through them. He had that glazed look she recognised from when she had tried to teach him about Ferelden's noble families.

'Alistair?'

'I don't want to . . . I can't do this.'

'I need to do this.'

'But why?' Alistair moaned, seeming sulky suddenly. 'You're right. This could be our last night together. I don't want to spend it crying into my pillow. You're stronger than me.' He held a hand to his chest. 'I'm a blubberer. I blubber.'

Elissa squeezed his hand. 'I love that you blubber.'

'I'd rather woo you.' Alistair smiled, sensing victory. He knew the way through her defences. 'Lie back and ready yourself for some bawdy Orlesian limericks. Pay attention to the goat at the start, he's important at the end.'

'No limericks.' Elissa was firm. She drew a deep breath in and Alistair's eyes flicked to her breasts and then, guiltily back to her face. 'Can you focus?'

'You're naked.' Alistair said sheepishly. 'I'm not used to you being naked yet.'

Elissa grunted and pulled the blanket over her chest.

Alistair pouted.

'Let's get through this, together.' Elissa said softly.

'You're going to say goodbye.' Alistair blurted, looking slightly panicked. 'But I don't want to say goodbye. If we say goodbye then . . . that's it. We've given up. We'll just lie here and think about our impending deaths and it'll be like we're alone.'

'That's not what I wanted to say.' Elissa said. She hesitated, biting her lip as Alistair watched her earnestly. 'I wanted you to promise me something.'

'What is it?' Alistair asked with a slight frown.

'I don't want you to die for me.' Elissa said in a rush and the words tumbled into each other from her dry mouth.

Alistair Theirin rubbed a hand across his rough cheek. He cast her a bemused smile. 'What?'

'I want you to swear to Andraste, to the Maker, on Duncan's memory that you won't kill yourself to save me.'

There was a long silence that stretched between them, it seemed there was a yawning chasm open on the bed, separating them, deep and wide as the Waking Sea. Oghren's wailing song in Dwarven echoed faintly through the door.

'No.' Alistair said simply. Finally. Her love reached across the bed and took a cup of watered wine from the floor. He took a long draught and then stared into the empty mug.

Elissa shuffled across the bed and entwined her fingers through Alistair's own. He gazed at his cup and did not even glance at her naked form. Elissa squeezed his callused hand. 'Alistair, You're not just a Grey Warden anymore. You're the King of Ferelden. You can't die.' She grimaced. 'I wish you had let me recruit Loghain.'

'After what he did to Duncan?' Alistair demanded furiously, finally snatching his face up to glare at her. 'To your family?'

'He would have been another Warden to kill the Archdemon.' Elissa explained patiently. Explained again. 'Now there are only two of us.'

'What about Riordan?' Alistair asked.

Elissa gazed at him. 'I meant Riordan and me.'

'I'm a Grey Warden first.' Alistair told her. 'King second. Actually Grey Warden, then former Templar, then rune enthusiast, then king.' He shook his head. 'Actually, Skilled Lover is first, then Grey Warden, then-'

'You're the Last Theirin.' Elissa interrupted him. 'The last of King Calenhad's line. And I won't let you die for me.'

Alistair rolled his eyes. 'You're such a noble sometimes. None of that means anything, Elissa. I love you. That's what matters to me.'

'And I love you.' Elissa said fiercely. 'So why do you get to die for me but I can't die for you?'

'You have already saved my life a hundred times!' Alistair exclaimed. 'I owe you, first of all.' He brushed a hand against the deep, jagged scar running across the base of Elissa's neck. 'That werewolf in the Brecilian Forest would have taken my head off if you hadn't jumped on its back.'

Elissa seized his hand, rather more forcefully than she had intended and jabbed at the wound. 'And you dove in front of me in Aeducan Thaig. I'd be puckered as a straw target if you hadn't been there.'

'You're right, that was heroic.' Alistair admitted with a grin.

'And my point.' Elissa said. 'We've fought together and bled together and faced demons and dragons and Morrigan in a mood together. And you always followed my lead.'

'But I'm king now.' Alistair said smugly.

'Exactly.'

'And, as king if I want to kill the Archdemon and hog all the glory, that's my right.'

'It's my duty to make sure you live through tomorrow.' Elissa said. 'For Ferelden.'

'I'm not going to watch you die.' Alistair said, suddenly and almost frighteningly serious. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. 'I won't do it, Elissa.'

'I'm not giving you that choice.' Elissa replied, just as stern. And she wore it rather better. Alistair knew when he was outmatched.

'Are we fighting? Is this our first fight? About who gets to die tomorrow?' Alistair was suddenly the same boy she'd first seen at Ostagar, all smiles.

Elissa threw her hands up. 'You're impossible.' She furiously yanked her trousers on and then her tunic. Elissa picked her sword up. 'I'm going to train with Sten.'

'No, wait.' Alistair leaped nimbly in front of the door and then hopped from foot to foot. 'Oh, cold! So cold!'

'Urgh.' Elissa grunted. 'Move.'

'No.' Alistair barricaded the door with his naked body. 'I don't want to fight.'

'Too late.'

'A compromise then?' Alistair asked hopefully. He glanced down at his nakedness and grimaced. 'I am at a disadvantage.'

'What compromise?' Elissa demanded. 'I want a promise, Alistair.'

'I will promise that I won't . . . I will fight beside you, as we always have. As equals.'

'That's it?' Elissa snorted. 'That's not enough, Alistair. Not nearly enough.'

'That's as much as I can give you.' He moved towards her and, when Elissa didn't raise her sword, felt confident enough to gently hold her shoulders. 'If I see a chance to slay the Archdemon and end the Blight, I'll take it. But I won't take it from you. If you get there first, you'll ruin my life even as you save it. But I won't stop you. I'll . . .' He took a shaky breath. 'I'll let you make the sacrifice.'

Elissa gazed at him, into his light brown eyes. 'You swear?'

Alistair nodded slowly, staring into her eyes all the while. 'I swear to the Maker and Andraste and the Stone and Mythal too.'

'On Duncan's memory.' Elissa whispered. The slightest pause. He seemed to flinch.

'On Duncan's memory.' Alistair repeated solemnly and his voice cracked just a little, like frost underfoot.

'Done. That's a promise.' Elissa smiled at him. She nuzzled her nose against his chin. 'Thank you.'

'The floor is really quite cold.' Alistair whispered.

'Then let's go back to bed.'

Elissa was on her knees beside his body.

His lips were parted slightly, she almost believed he might smile at any moment. That goofy smile. Sten had found his sword and the pommel rested against Alistair's chest and the blade, sticky with black, poisoned blood reached past his knees. Elissa's companions had gathered. Amazed that they all still lived. They had embraced. Cheered.

Before they had seen Alistair.

Sten led them back. Far enough so they could not hear Elissa's words. Sten, his plate armour dented with a hundred blows, standing tall and silent. Zevran, slumped against a wall, an arrow protruding from his chiselled leg. Wynne lay her hands on him. There was blood in her hair. Shale had moved away to assist the wounded. She carried a bundle of groaning and startled soldiers across her huge shoulders. Leliana sat on the ground and wept, tears streaking through her dusty face as fires sent plumes of thick black smoke into the sky behind. Oghren stood with a hand on her shoulder and said nothing.

Elissa could hear Anora, Queen Anora, speaking urgently with her advisors. Organising for buildings to be torn down to stop the fire's progress through the city. The pursuit of the defeated Darkspawn. The embassies for the allies; the dwarves, the Dalish who had marched to defend Ferelden. She would be a great queen.

But Alistair would have made a better king. Elissa caressed his cold cheek with her hand. She knelt down and brushed her lips against his. Angry tears pricked at her eyes.

'You promised,' Elissa whispered.