She felt her throat grow dry from her screams, her head spun as if all the blood in her body were rushing to it, and her stomach lurched from the uncomfortable sensation that envelopped her body. As she fell out of the air, she felt the world before her come to a sudden standstill, everything around her moved in slow motion; she tumbled ungracefully onto the floor, feeling her already swollen body bruise further from the impact. She opened her eyes slowly, her vision adjusting itself to the sudden light. She stared at the scene before her, breath growing shallow in realization. Dorian's plan worked, and he knew it too, based on the smug grin on his face.
She found herself back in the throne room, but in this reality Blackwall, Bull and Solas we're still alive and Alexius was a short breath away from receiving his swift judgment from her daggers. Her companions had yet to realize her and Dorian's re-appearance in the throne room; Solas' knees sunk to the ground with his staff firmly in the air, he casted a protective magical barrier around Blackwall and Bull who found themselves surrounded by guards. Before the guards could move an inch-closer to them, Dorian let out a blood-curdling scream and waved his staff rapidly around the air, and the guards were soon trapped in a thick layer of ice, bodies unable to move from their sudden entombment. Alexius let out a cry of anger, body stiffening at his plan that was crumbling right before his eyes; he grabbed his staff and raced towards Alysia who was charging at him at equal speed. She withdrew her daggers from her back as soon as the chaos soon ensued all around her; the remaining guards who weren't trapped in Dorian's ice scrambled to their feet in attempt to change the tide in their favor. The guards were no match to Bull and Blackwall who took them down quickly, one by one found their swift demise at the end of their blades.
Alysia now stood in front of Alexius who was gritting his teeth at his failed plan. He dashed towards Alysia, casting fervent spells at her; she tried to parry with her daggers but she wasn't fast enough to deflect the fire that was flying directly to her legs, she felt the fire burn through her armor and sting on her skin. She let out a scream of agony, she fell swiftly on the floor as felt her legs scald from the intense heat. She dug the daggers deep into the ground to help her lift her body up before Alexius could attack her again but Alexius was hovering on top of her, his face dark from anger. He kicked her savagely in the face, over and over again. She felt her face grow swollen from the kicks, her mind growing faint from the constant blow to her head. She coughed through the pauses in his kicks, and tried desperately to shield herself with her arms.
She felt something surge within her body, more so through her fingers when she tried to defend herself, something tingled at the tips of her fingers and glow for a mere second. Before she could figure what it was, Blackwall's sword pierced through Alexius' legs, causing the man to tumble away from her, and fall to his knees. He then struck a hard blow to the man's head with the hilt of his sword, knocking the lights out of him; Blackwall grunted in satisfaction at the man who collapsed on the floor with a dull thud. Alysia's chest heaved as she felt her body slowly come back to life, she tried to lift her bruised body but it wouldn't budge; she felt warm fingers fall on her back and slowly pushing her up—it was Dorian, who regarded her with a triumphant smile.
She looked at Alexius' unmoving body, and back at Dorian, "Is Alexius dead?"
"No, my lady. He just fainted from my blow, can't have him die on us when he has a lot of explaining to do," Blackwall said while shaking his blade to dislodge some of the blood that stuck to it.
She nodded slowly and felt her head grow faint from the pain. She slumped onto Dorian's arms weakly and hung her head back into his chest to regain her composure.
"Need me to lift you out off here?" he asked.
"I'm good. But thanks Dorian," she said as she tried to push herself off the floor with his hand firmly resting on her lower back.
"Anytime," the mage said with a grin plastered on his face. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."
She chuckled at the self-satisfied mage, internally thanking the Maker that his brilliant plan worked. She limped slowly towards her other companions who were waiting for her with regard at the door that led them out of the throne room; she nodded at them and grinned widely at them. They were safe. She was safe. But the job wasn't done yet; she still needed the mages to help her close the Breach.
She pushed open the door and her eyes grew wide at the sight before her, the mages were on their knees before her, as well as Grand Enchanter Fiona who was kneeling right in front of the crowd.
Relief washed over her from the admiration that the rebel group were regarding her with. This was the Inquisition's first victory.
Fiona's face was lit crimson when Alysia pulled the tiny woman into a quick embrace, the Inquisition's alliance with the mage was unanimous; the rebel group agreed that they could not find any other better cause to fight for. As Alysia was about to pull away from her embrace with Fiona, she heard the door slam wide open; she saw a man walk in from the corner of her eye. She turned her face to look at the sudden visitor; it was a tall man with blonde hair that was swept backwards, revealing his very angry looking face. His brown eyes shot her and Fiona accusatory look, his face scrunched up slowly into a scowl.
"Who are all of you?" the man snapped, his annoyed voice filling the room.
"King Alistair!" Fiona cried out in surprise.
"Grand Enchanter Fiona, explain yourself. I offered the mages safe harbor in Redcliffe, and this is how you repay me? By giving it away to a Tevinter magister."
"Your highness, I never—we never intended for it—"
"It doesn't matter what you intended. You've made it impossible for me to help you," he said while frowning at his words. He sighed heavily and looked at Fiona squarely, "I truly wanted to help the mages but you've made it impossible."
"Oh Alistair, is that really necessary?" a voice snapped from behind the guards that marched with the King. The man who spoke had a very alluring Antivan accent, Alysia felt her ears twitch at the familiarity in the man's voice—she felt as thought she recognized it from somewhere.
"Don't start with me now," Alistair replied to the man; whose face slowly came into view as he sauntered over to where the King was standing; his light-blonde hair was meticulously braided, it complimented his beautiful golden-brown complexion that seemed to radiate from the torch fires. His amber eyes glowed with amusement at the King who groaned beside him, but for the most part it slowly widened at the sight of Alysia's face who was equally shocked.
"Is that? No it cannot be."
"Zevran?" Alysia cried out to the man, whose smile widened at the sight of a familiar face.
"Alysia Trevelyan, you have truly returned from the dead!" he exclaimed while swooping her into his arms and twirling her about the room.
"Aly, what are you doing so far away from home?" he cried out, his joy beaming in his face. His suave demeanor came undone upon the sight of her; his sudden shift in personality was so unexpected that Alistair laughed loudly at him.
Fiona glanced quickly at the three of them, confused at the odd reunion that was happening before her.
"Oh you know, stopping the bad guys and saving the day. It's what I do now, haven't you heard?" she replied to him as soon as her feet fell firmly to the ground, his arms still wrapped delicately around her waist.
"Zevran, can I safely assume that she might be one of your friends from the Crows?"
"Not even close, your majesty. I know her, from a… time," he said coyly.
"Oh… No! Zevran. We've discussed this before. I don't want to know about your nightly encounters."
"As if I would ever bed the man who tried to kill my father!" Alysia exclaimed while laughing.
"Wait. Hold on. You're glad to see the man who tried to kill your father?" Alistair asked, his face growing shock.
"With good reason," Zevran interrupted. "I had a job and he was my mark."
"But this doesn't explain why you're both friends," Alistair said while furrowing his eyebrows.
"Look put it this way, a lot of people want my father dead. And like Zev said, with good reason."
"But you're friends with an assassin."
"As are you, your majesty. You don't hear me asking questions at your odd relationship," Alysia replied, smiling at the King whose eyes grew-wide at her ease with talking to the King of Fereldan.
"Zevran, you must introduce me to the woman who is undaunted by my title,"
"Oh yes, it is with great pleasure that I present to you, Alysia Trevelyan, the youngest daughter to Bann Trevelyan of the Free Marches. I'm sure that the both of you will get along."
"And recently… Herald of Andraste," she quipped while rolling her eyes at the ridiculous title.
"Wait… you're the Herald?" he asked, confused. "Alistair, is it too late for me to re-consider a change in clients?"
"But I thought you said that it's good business for an assassin to have a King as a client, or as a mark."
"Ah, but it's not too late for you to still be a mark, my friend. I could still be in-between jobs."
"Maker, this is why I question the old balls and chains when she decided to leave me with you. I never understood why she decided to leave me with an untrustworthy Antivan. You did try to kill us all, remember?"
"Slander and lies, Alistair Theirin! Shame on you."
Alysia tossed her head back and let out a hearty laugh. "Maker Zevran, you did find yourself in good company after all those years!" to which he shrugged and turned to Alistair who was merely shaking his head.
"If you're all quite finished, could we please address the matter at hand," Fiona interrupted. Realizing that their attention fell on her, she grew nervous and quickly excused herself out of the room.
"Oh yes," Alistair said, and cleared his throat. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trevelyan. I'm Alistair Theirin, involuntary King of Fereldan," he said while musing over his title. "About earlier, with the mages. I am… sorry about that," he said, face falling in shame.
"You don't owe us an apology, really. We've rather come to good understanding, the mages and I. They've agreed to join the Inquisition and will depart your lands soon."
"Really? The Inquisition swoops in and saves my uncle and I the trouble of doing all of the grimy work?" he asked, pleased. Alistair nodded his head at the guards who stood in front of the door where Fiona and her were holding their meeting, to leave.
"Apparently so," Alysia said while smiling warmly at Alistair.
"Like Zevran, I'm re-considering a career change,"
"One does not quit being a King. Well, unless they are assassinated," Zevran chimed in.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that Zevran," Alysia said while shooting him a knowing smile.
"Say, if you're with the Inquisition. Is there a Leliana serving it? Or a Cullen Rutherford?" Alistair asked, his head resting on his chin.
"Sister Leliana? Yes! She's our spymaster," Alysia replied. "And as for Cullen, he's Commander to the Inquisition. Do you know them?" she asked, puzzled.
"Oh yes. We three—Leliana, Zevran and I have had our share of adventures together," Alistair said while staring absently at the ceiling. "During the blight, we happened to come across Cullen who was a Templar at a Kinloch Hold."
"Who we saved, if I recall," Zevran spoke into the room.
Alysia tilted her head sideways, she recalled Chancellor Roderick yelling at Cullen about him being a Templar, and she had never found a reason to speak about his former self to him—but she never heard anything about him being saved during the blight.
"Wait, you saved Commander Cullen from Kinloch Hold," her expression growing more confused.
"Oh yes, he had quite… the hatred for mages when we first met him. But I've heard that after Kirkwall, he's surprisingly adapting to them."
"Andraste's tits," she muttered, to which she quickly covered her mouth in realization and apologized profusely at Alistair for swearing in front of him.
Alistair grinned broadly at Alysia who was fumbling at her words; something about her reminded him of a woman he loved so dearly.
"You don't need to apologize to me. It's quite refreshing to see someone at ease with me… for once," he said. "So… why we're you swearing again?"
Alysia bit her bottom lip, and cast her gaze down to the floor. "Well, Cullen, and the rest of my advisors don't know that I'm bringing the mages back home… and the last time Cullen and I spoke, it wasn't pleasant," she whispered while burying her face into her hands at the thought of having to speak, or rather argue with Cullen again.
Alistair's eyes grew wide at Alysia whose face was slowly growing grave; he shot the elf a grin, who returned the gesture by patting the King's back.
"Told you that the both of you would get along."
Alysia cocked her head at the both of them, puzzled at whatever devilish thoughts were forming in their heads, which only served to make Alistair laugh.
"Sorry, we must not make much sense at all. It's just, you remind me so much of Elena," he said, his expression growing wistful at the thought.
"Ah yes, she always dove head in first into everything. Barely consulted any of us when she needed to make an important decision…. Until now," Zevran said while looking out of the window.
"Whose… Elena?" Alysia asked, she felt the atmosphere in the room grow heavy at the woman's name.
"She was the Hero of Fereldan, and my wife."
Was, Alysia wondered to herself.
"Yes, she disappeared one day and no one has heard from her since," Alistair said, his expression growing grave.
"Um… I could possibly ask the small council for aid in finding her, if you would like me to?" she offered. Alistair smiled weakly at the Herald and nodded.
"But first, you have to lead a mage rebel back to Haven. Elena will come back," he said while clasping his hands over Alysia's. "I'm sure of it."
"I'm sure I have taken much of your time today. I should be off," she said while bowing at the King who beamed back at her. In reality, she was afraid to go back to Haven, she was afraid if she had made a terrible mistake with forming an alliance with the mages.
She excused herself out of the room and waved the both of them good-bye. As she was making her way through the hallway, she heard footsteps trailing from behind her. She stopped briefly and smiled to herself, as if knowing who was following her. She turned swiftly on her heels and crossed her arms at the man who grinned sheepishly at her.
"Zevran, you are to look after the King, okay? He needs you."
"Ah, such is life. It gets a tad bit boring in Fereldan, especially if there are no beautiful women to admire,"
Alysia giggled at him and strode closer to the elf, she didn't realize how much taller he was compared to her, not until she was standing face to face with the elf, who was cocking his eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes at him, and stood on her tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on to his cheek. Her lips quirked up at the elf, who was now smirking at her.
She swiftly made her way down the corridor and waved a hand at him mid-walk.
"You be good now, Zev," she cried out, disappearing into a corner turn.
Nightingale,
So, the plan worked. Yay.
Zevran and his royal highness says hello to their favourite cloistered sister.
Will be home soon with some new friend(s). Please be nice to all of them.
I know Cullen won't be.
Alysia