Apologies for the super long posting gap - my muse went south for the winter and did not take me with her. I can't promise to post regularly, but I will update as soon as I can. Thank you for sticking with me! Special thanks to suilven for hand-holding, support, and swift betaing!
The mountains around Skyhold were still and silent. Only the first fingers of the dawn were touching the tops, very little light yet to be seen. Alistair stood watching, his mind as blank as the snowy hillsides, and glad for the respite from thought.
A small sound from behind him pulled him from his blankness, and he turned to see Lilias sitting up, her dark hair wild and loose around her shoulders. It was hard for him to believe she was really there. He had been alone for so long.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing." Then he remembered his promise, to himself and to her, to try to be honest with both of them. "Everything."
"Corypheus."
"Yes … but not just him. What comes beyond him."
Lilias winced and shivered, pulling the blankets up around her. "I can't think beyond him. I—I have to kill him this time. I have to—I have to be able to set something right."
"It's not your fault."
"Maybe not on a higher level. I didn't imprison him, that much is true. But I woke him. I set him free. I let him walk out of that tower in Larius's body. If I had listened to Fenris and been willing to kill him, none of this would have happened." She gave a small, humorless laugh. "For that matter, if I had listened to Fenris and been willing to kill Anders, none of that would have happened, either. But I was merciful, if you want to call it that, and look what came of it."
Alistair didn't bother to argue. Nothing he could say would shake her deep-seated guilt; the best he could do was stay by her side and help her kill Corypheus, and he had already committed to that.
Lilias took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "I know; that's all behind me now. I can't rebuild the Chantry; I can't put the Circles back, and I'm not sure I would want to. But I can kill Corypheus. And I intend to."
"I envy you," Alistair said, without meaning to.
"Me? Why?"
"Because you have a goal. And an endgame. But when we kill Corypheus, I have to go back and take another stab at ruling Ferelden, and …" He swallowed, not wanting to admit it to either of them. "I don't know how."
"You've done a fine job so far."
It was his turn for a humorless laugh. "Not according to Teagan. To hear him tell it, he's had to do all the work for me all along, and I've just been the figurehead. And a failure of one at that. No wife, no heirs, no impressive accomplishments, no wars … except for the one we lost in Redcliffe against the mages, of course. Hardly a feather in my cap."
"He can't possibly blame you for all of that."
"He does, and with pleasure. And he isn't wrong," Alistair said painfully. "I've been—I've been a disaster, is what I've been."
Those frank blue eyes studied his face carefully. At last Lilias said, "I think you sell yourself short."
"Well, then, you're the only one. I owe it to my country to do better."
"Then do better! Pull yourself together, Alistair."
"Funny, that's what I say every morning. I look in the mirror, trying to remember all the things I'm not supposed to screw up that day, and I say 'pull yourself together, Alistair'. It never works."
"You almost sound like you don't want to go back."
He wanted to flinch from the directness of her gaze, to tell her, and himself, what it would be easiest to hear, but he had promised. He wanted to be someone who told the truth, to put all the lies he had been telling himself for a decade and more aside. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Do you wish you'd stayed a Warden, left Anora on the throne or appointed someone else?"
"Maker, yes." There was a relief in saying it out loud to her, and a greater relief in seeing that she didn't think the less of him for the admission. "I was a good Grey Warden. I was proud to be one. I would have gone on being proud to be one. Maybe—maybe I could have helped them, prevented what … happened. But … well, Leyden insisted that I was the one to bring the country together, that I had talents, skills, I didn't know I possessed, that I would learn how to be a king by being one."
"Why?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Why was she so insistent? If she knew she was going to die, if she knew you didn't want to be king, why did she force you to do it?"
"We didn't know one of us had to die, not until—not until it was too late. Until I was already king. So who knows, maybe she wanted me on the throne far from her, maybe it was to keep me from going after the Archdemon to take the glory for herself. If there's anything I've come to understand, it was that I never really understood her." He shook his head decisively, crossing the room to sit on the bed next to Lilias, one hand reaching out to stroke the soft dark hair that fell over her shoulder. "It doesn't matter what she thought. Not anymore."
"Then what are you going to do?"
For answer, he leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn't an answer, it was an evasion, he knew that. The coward's way out. Probably she knew it, too. But he didn't know what he was going to do, and he had this reprieve now until they had killed Corypheus, and he intended to make the most of it.
Thule leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze traveling past the crackling fire and out the open doors to rest on the bright stars above the mountains. Corypheus would come soon, he could feel it. This life, this Inquisition, was predicated on the threat of Corypheus. Who would he be—what would he be—when it was over? What would he have to offer?
The cushions shifted as Cassandra settled on the couch next to him. She sat there quietly, but he could feel the weight of her gaze on him. He wanted to turn, to speak to her, but he didn't know what to say.
She reached out, her long, strong fingers resting on his shoulder.
Again, he thought of turning to speak, but he couldn't seem to withdraw his eyes from the stars, or to think of how to begin the conversation he knew he needed to have. If she said no, if she turned him down, if she proved that the Chantry meant more to her than he did … He couldn't bear to take the risk.
After a few moments, he wasn't sure how long, she withdrew her hand from his shoulder and sat forward. "In all the time I have known you, I don't believe you have ever been quiet for this long."
He managed a nod at that one, but still couldn't trust his voice.
"You must speak to me, my love. Something troubles you. Let me help you."
Thule pushed words out with an effort. "I—It's nothing."
"It is not nothing, clearly. Is it Corypheus?"
He shrugged.
"I understand. I worry about him, too. He is powerful, and you have yet to fight him one-on-one … which someday you must do. I dread the conflict."
Thule reached for her hand, closing it in his.
"But you will have your chance," Cassandra went on, gripping his hand tightly.
"We'll have our chance," he corrected, finding his voice at last. "We'll face Corypheus together."
Over his shoulder, he saw her smile. "There is not another man I would be more proud to fight beside."
He tugged her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
Cassandra sighed in contentment. "Not long ago, this would have been impossible to imagine—you, the man I love; victory close at hand."
"That … assuming the victory, assuming that it's as close at hand as it seems …" He gathered his courage. "Cassandra, we have never talked about what would come next, after—after Corypheus."
He could feel her tense, but she didn't move from her position. "No. No, we have not."
Now he did turn, looking into her eyes. "Cassandra, I love you. I know you have a hard time believing that, and whether that's about me or about you—well, it doesn't matter. Because I do love you, and all I want of the future after we defeat Corypheus is to be with you, wherever you are."
"And … if I am named Divine?" she asked hesitantly, withdrawing her hand from his.
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes. No. I don't know."
"We can still be together," he said, but he wished he sounded, or felt, more confident about it.
"Can we?" Cassandra sat up, shaking her head. "I am not so certain. If I were to be named Divine … I would owe to the Chantry all my best work, all my focus, my determination."
"And that takes precedent over what you feel for me?"
"Oh! My love, no. Not … not in my heart, no. If it were up to me, if it were only my welfare, my needs to consider, I would ask for nothing more than this, nothing more than to spend my life with you. But the Chantry—that touches all of Thedas. So many people depend on its teachings. It is their lifeline. How can I put my own welfare and desires ahead of that?"
It was substantially what he had expected her to say—what he had dreaded hearing her say, he was so certain of her answer. But his heart sank at the words, the reminder that he, that they, that she was less important to herself than the Chantry. He would lose her to the Sunburst Throne, and there was nothing he could do about it. If he threw his support behind another candidate, she would know, and she would know why, and she would despise him for his selfishness. He was caught in a trap of his own making. And without the Inquisition, he had no alternative to offer her anyway, nothing more than the love of an ex-Carta associate who had once led an army.
"Please, Thule, we don't need to make any decisions about this now, do we?" she asked, her long fingers cupping the side of his face and turning it toward her. "You have not lost me yet."
Looking into her beautiful face, her expressive eyes, he wanted to tell her that any chance of losing her was too much, that he couldn't bear even to consider the possibility, that he wanted, needed, promises. But he couldn't. To demand that of her would be to drive her away now and to cost himself the love and support he needed in order to finish off the tasks of the Inquisition and defeat Corypheus. So he lied.
"No, we don't have to make decisions now. We have better things to do anyway." And he kissed her, to stop the conversation and cover the crack in his heart.