Chapter 19

Alistair sat cross-legged across the room from Connor, his back straight and his eyes closed. Silence reigned supreme in the chamber, what with the demon's movement restricted and all. It had been reduced to wagging its chin every now and then just to fill the silence. Alistair didn't mind. He was used to it.

Connor hadn't spoken in what seemed like hours. Alistair himself didn't know how long he'd been sitting there. It was hard to tell in an enclosed chamber. Especially while sitting motionless.

He'd expressly forbidden everybody to enter the room. Doesn't matter how long it takes or what you hear, do not enter. It was the only way he'd be able to concentrate, and the only way he could keep the demon from further mischief.

The mind of a templar was a hard thing to break, though it did happen if a sufficiently powerful demon was involved. Of course,seeing as the demon had already possessed Connor, Alistair didn't fear possessed himself. While it could make Teagan dance to its tune, he was a separate beast entirely.

But he was tired. Both in mind and in body. The first day Connor had tried his level best to break free of his hold. Tried to get to him with words. Alistair had not responded to the taunts; it was a guaranteed way to ruin his concentration. After almost two days without food and water, his mental fortitude was starting to wither away.

Wynne, Solona and Aedan had gone to the Circle to get help from the mages to deal with the demon. Some sort of ritual to send a mage into the Fade and fight the demon there. It took a day to get there from Redcliffe across the lake. A day to go and another to return, with some change to get the people and lyrium required.

Huh. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Across from him, Connor snickered. "Your mind is wandering, templar. Best be careful."

Alistair slapped his knee and Connor winced in pain. How's that for wandering?

The only way to shut up the demon was to be forceful. It was a battle of wills, and Alistair had a much stronger mind than any given ten year old, demon or no.

But Solona Amell had been a study when it came to forcefulness on that day. From demanding Jowan be released, to demanding to let him help and then making enchanted suits of armour fold in on themselves with lightning–something about metal folding with a strong enough current–the mage had been completely unstoppable.

Alistair chuckled silently. Who knew that the sweet summer child flower girl had it in her?

Jowan had been her friend in the Circle. He knew that he had betrayed her and the woman he loved by dabbling in blood magic, and that was something Alistair had a very strong stance against. Maleficars used the life energy present in blood to power their magic, be it their own or others'. Hemomancy was usually frowned upon and maleficars usually killed on sight. Or so his templar training had told him.

His words hadn't been taken kindly by the rest of the party when he'd suggested that Jowan be kept in the cell where they'd found him. He was used to that too.

Morrigan had been especially scathing. Is this Alistair who speaks, or the templar?

Everybody deserves a chance to redeem themselves, Leliana had said. He didn't argue that point. He'd left it up to Solona. She had been his friend. She knew him best.

I know you don't trust blood mages, Alistair, but please, trust me. And he had.

When it was discovered that Connor was an abomination and the root cause behind the walking corpses terrorising Redcliffe, Morrigan had wasted no time in snapping at him.

What does our resident templar say, hmm? Shall we separate the child's head from his body because he is an abomination?

He'd considered it, of course. It would have been the most efficient way. Jowan had suggested a blood magic ritual to send someone in the Fade to combat the demon, but that would've required a sacrifice, someone's blood to drain. While arlessa Isolde had volunteered to sacrifice her life for her son's well-being, Solona had suggested they seek the help of the Circle. Considering everything, her course of action had been deemed the best possible route.

But that had meant a gap of about two days for the ritual to happen. And thus Alistair had locked himself in with the possessed boy to keep him restrained.

"Tell me templar, why do you do it?" Alistair opened his eyes at that. "Why do you go to such lengths to save the spawn of a woman who made your life miserable?"

You know what, that's a very good question. Why am I doing this?

Arlessa Isolde had been the main reason behind his messed up childhood at Redcliffe. He didn't owe the woman anything. Not one damn thing. She knew that her son was a mage, yet kept this from her husband. She hired an apostate maleficar without conducting a background search. Said apostate maleficar had been an agent of Teryn Loghain and had poisoned the arl into a stupor from which he had yet to wake. Arlessa Isolde was a walking talking fuck up, and yet here he was, starving himself and sacrificing his mental health to save her child.

Why? Why am I doing this? Duty? Practicality? Am I that big of a sucker that I bend every time I see someone willing to show regret or sorrow?

He shook his head. Shook away the negative emotions. It won't do to lose control. Across from him, Connor smirked.

"You slipped up a little, templar." A chuckle. "Your hatred was... most delicious. Feed me more."

"Was it really?" His throat was drier than he'd imagined. "So I can tell people that I'm yummy? Outstanding."

"Be humorous all you want, templar, but I can feel your weariness. Another day, and you'll collapse. Where are your friends in your time of need, I wonder."

"Probably downstairs having cheese and bacon." Ah, cheese. "They trust me, you see. They trust me to keep you in line. Something your own mother didn't trust you to do. I wonder what that's like."

Silence.

Alistair chuckled. "Did I hit a nerve, boy?"

"You... should respect me."

"A brat who has no control over his magical faculties and throws a bloody tantrum when things don't go his way? Killing his subjects and raising an army of the dead to terrorise his retainers? It all screams of attention seeking to me, demon." He snorted derisively. "All you wanted was your mother to fawn over you. 'Look at me, mother! I'm suffering! Oooh!'"

"Shut up!"

Alistair narrowed his lids and the boy cowered away. "Don't forget that I am in control of you, boy. I can keep doing this for as long as I like."

"Does your backbone materialise only when you're alone, templar? Because it seems to me that before all the others, your sense of self all but crumbles."

Alistair shrugged. "I don't like making decisions. But believe you me, do not take that to mean that I cannot." He paused and smirked. "Because when I do make a decision, there is nobody more committed to seeing it through than I. Just look at yourself. You've been trying for two days to break me. How many dents have you made? I'm curious."

When Connor didn't respond, Alistair closed his eyes. "This is something only I can do. Not Aedan, not Morrigan, not Leliana. Only me. And when the time comes, those who have the skill to take action also have the responsibility to take action."

In War, Victory.

"The only reason I'm doing this is because Connor Guerrin is innocent. Also because a mother doesn't deserve to see her child suffer this way, whatever her faults may be. Finally, I'm doing this to save Eamon so he can help us with Loghain and then the Blight."

In Peace, Vigilance.

"To that end, my life is forfeit. As long as they get the job done, I don't really give a fuck what happens to me."

In Death, Sacrifice.

He heard muffled laughter. Connor said, "You foolish templar, you think you have what it takes to do away with me?"

"No. I don't need to. There are others better suited to that task than I am. Just as there are things only I can do, there are things only they can do. And I trust them. Though I wish they'd hurry things along a tad. Also, I'm not a templar." He grinned. "My name is Alistair Theirin, and I'm a Grey Warden."