Taking a moment to visit my first favorite couple, after entirely too long! This chapter is inspired by the Reba McEntire/Brooks & Dunn song "If You See Him/If You See Her", which is an integral part of my Alistair/Thora playlist. Thank you for reading!
"Come on, nug-licker, try some. Brought it special for ya, all the way from the Vigil."
Alistair groaned. Trying one of Oghren's concoctions was always a risk—and more often than not seemed to end in humiliation. Not for Oghren, to be sure, but for Alistair, almost certainly.
"One sip. If you don't like it, we can use it to polish the floor."
"I have servants for that."
"Don't get all high and mighty with me, boy."
Sighing, Alistair picked up the mug and took a tentative sip, and then a larger, appreciative swallow. "That's good stuff." It didn't burn nearly as much as most of Oghren's brews did.
"Yup. Got an Antivan ship captain to bring me some o' them oranges, used 'em in it."
"I thought so. It tastes—exotic."
"Then have another." Oghren didn't wait for a response, just started refilling the mug.
Alistair considered protesting, but it was no use. And he didn't really want to. It was such a relief when he got to spend time with one of their old companions from the Blight, people who knew him when he was just Alistair, not this royal person everyone kept expecting him to be. It had been six years and he still wasn't used to the deference people treated him with, or the great distance there seemed to be between himself and even his closest advisors. Were kings not supposed to have friends? Another man might have had a wife as helpmeet and support, but the distance between himself and Dorothea grew larger every day, it seemed. The Grey Wardens, and Oghren in particular, were among the few people with whom Alistair felt like himself.
"Copper for what yer thinkin'," Oghren said, draining his own mug and refilling it.
Desperately, Alistair sought for a topic of conversation other than the one that was constantly on his mind. But he couldn't avoid it—too many of his thoughts were devoted in that direction to dissemble too much in front of this man who was friend to them both. "How is Anawyn?" he asked, putting the little girl up as a shield against what he really wanted to know.
"Doin' good. Little cave tick's as smart as a whip. Has the whole Vigil dancin' to her tune."
"How does she get along with your two?"
"Oh, they're best of friends. Little bit of an age difference, but she's patient as all get out."
"And … Thora?" Alistair held his breath.
"Ah." Oghren's knowing look said he'd been waiting for that one. "Same as ever."
"Tell her—tell her hello for me." Not that she really needed a message from him. There had been such a coolness between them ever since Duncan was born. It was a sad irony, really—the son that he and Dorothea and the kingdom had always wanted, that he and Thora had parted so he could create, had ruined his relationship with both women. It was well worth it; Duncan was the delight of Alistair's life. But he missed them, Dorothea's quiet presence and Thora's warm friendship. He missed more than that, truly, he wanted Thora in every way possible, but that was past.
"You all right?" Oghren asked.
Alistair shrugged. "It's hard to tell, really. I—I miss her."
Oghren nodded, looking kind, and refilled Alistair's mug again.
"You won't tell her I said that, will you?" Alistair asked. The last thing he needed was Thora thinking he was mooning over her like a calf.
The dwarf just grunted, and they both drank deeply.
"If you would only sit down, we could have ourselves a nice visit."
Thora glanced at Leliana, smiling. "I'm sorry. Busy, you know."
"Yes, I do. You are always so busy—I have to wonder if you ever sleep."
"Occasionally."
"And fun? Do you recall what that is?"
"If I forget, Anawyn usually finds a way to remind me."
"She is quite the handful. I imagine she must be much like you were as a child, no?" Leliana laughed, and Thora chuckled with her.
"According to my older brother, I was a terror. My father thought I could do no wrong—so I imagine I took advantage of that quite as often as Anawyn does her own status." She thought briefly of her father, who had been a kind, loving man and had doted on his only daughter. He had deserved a better end than he'd had.
"I did not mean to make you sad."
"No, it's all right. It was a long while ago, after all, and look where it's landed me." She gestured around her, meaning the Vigil, and her duties as Warden Commander, and her daughter, and the friends she'd made. Never mind the beacon that always glowed in her mind somewhere in the vicinity of Denerim—that was also long past, and that was where it would stay.
"Indeed." Leliana watched her with knowing eyes—how knowing, she proved with her next comment. "You know, I am going to Denerim next with my report on the state of things at Haven. Is there … any message I can carry for you?"
Thora raised her eyebrows at her friend, giving her a severe look. "You can say I'm fine. We're all fine."
"'Fine'. What a descriptive word."
Shaking her head, Thora deposited her papers on her desk. She glanced out the window, which happened to face in the direction of Denerim, and a stab of longing for Alistair hit her so sharply she caught her breath. "Maybe—maybe you could say that I—I think about him sometimes. No," she contradicted immediately. "That wouldn't be wise."
"What the heart desires is not always the wisest course, but sometimes we must listen to it anyway," Leliana said wistfully, and Thora could see in her face that she was thinking of Ser Perth. They were off again now, due to their long-standing disagreement over the Chantry and the Maker.
"I try very hard to keep my heart quiet. Because if I don't …" Thora sat down, trying to force words past the sudden lump in her throat. "If I listen to it then I have to question why we ever ended up this way; why it couldn't have been good enough just to be Grey Wardens together, raise our daughter as a family. But that's foolish, because I know why we did it—it was for the greater good. And the kingdom has benefited."
"But you still want him," Leliana said softly. "And duty is not enough to erase that longing from your heart, no matter how sternly you tell it to be silent."
"Yes." Thora pressed her lips together to prevent all the loneliness she kept hidden from spilling forth.
"'Nother one, Yer Majesty?"
Alistair nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He hoped he would learn his lesson about Oghren's brews after this—smoothness didn't mean it was less deadly. But then, he'd been drinking with Oghren for the better part of a decade now, and he hadn't learned that lesson yet; he suspected he was beyond hope.
"D'you remember the camp?" he asked.
Oghren grunted his assent.
"Bloody cold, more often than not. Still … warm in the tents, though," he said slowly, his chin resting on his folded arms. "I miss it, sometimes. Even the warmest bed is cold alone." That sounded profound to him, and he repeated it softly to himself. "Maker, I miss her. I'd give half the kingdom for one kiss." He felt the sting of some very manly tears, and blinked them back. Definitely too much of Oghren's new brew. "Sometimes I find it hard to remember all the very good reasons why—"
"You've gotta let it go, boy," Oghren said, not without sympathy. "Broodin' about it ain't gonna make it any different."
"I know. But … I can't let it go. It would be like—like cutting the heart right out of my body. How can I do that?"
"Really big knife?"
Alistair looked at him. From his distracted expression, it was clear Oghren was studying on the logistics of the problem. "You're not helping."
"Nothin' to help. Lovin' someone you can't have? People been doin' it since the Stone was formed, and they're not gonna stop. Doesn't make your problem go away … but then, that's what the ale's for. Have another'n?" He picked up Alistair's mug and wiggled it.
Alistair nodded. "You're a very wise man, Oghren."
The dwarf grunted again. "Don't let it get around."
The two women were silent, staring at the flames crackling in the fire. At last, Leliana leaned forward, placing her teacup on the low table in front of her. She tucked her feet under herself, turning in the chair to face Thora. "Have you thought of trying to find happiness with someone new? It saddens me to see you here like this."
Thora shook her head. "I'm fine, Leliana. Really."
"You are not fine. You have a hole in your heart where Alistair should be, and you pretend it doesn't exist. That is not healthy."
"I'm a Grey Warden. Nothing about my life is healthy."
"You know exactly what I mean."
"All right, say I do. Say that my secret heart is shrouded in darkness as deep as that in the Deep Roads, and Alistair is the light that has been taken from it. How does it help me, or him, or some other poor bastard, if I try to illuminate that blackness with someone else?" Thora shook her head. "It's just not possible, and it wouldn't be fair."
"Is that what you say to Anders?"
"Not in those words—you're the only one I wax poetic around." She smiled at her friend. "But something along those lines."
"I am glad you have someone else to talk to about these things."
"I would be glad not to have to talk about them at all. Seeing him, with things strained and cold this way, is hard enough. If I can work hard enough, I can forget. Work was always meant to be my purpose, anyway."
Leliana watched her with affection. "You are meant for so much more than that."
"Thank you. I'm glad you think so. But as you well know, I had more once. I have the memories of that time—and I have his daughter. It's enough."
"So there is no message I can take for you?"
"No. Just … tell him … tell him I send my—"
"Regards?" Leliana suggested, when the words wouldn't come.
Thora nodded. It was the right word, but completely inadequate to convey everything she felt.