The Awakening
A Dragon Age Fanfiction
By Bionca Femme
Disclaimer: I own nothing. =(
Chapter 1: The Beginning
There is something terribly fitting about their chosen place to drown their sorrows. A normal person might believe a brothel an awful place to mourn a fallen friend, but none of Lyna's former companions could think of a better place. They believed that had she been alive, Lyna would have chosen it to celebrate their victory.
Oghren, Zevran, Alistair, and Leliana sat around a table, on the opposite side of the common room from Isabella, who even now was challenging a tall dark haired fellow to a game of 'wicked grace'. Wynne understandably passed on this particular outing, and Shale not really having any use for strong spirits or other pleasures to be had, stayed behind as well. Sten had already left days before shipbound for the comforts of his beloved Seheron, the call of his homeland too strong to ignore.
The group was already a few drinks into the night, Oghren a little further than the rest, having started earlier that afternoon. Alistair had thrown himself into the activity with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Or perhaps it should have been expected, given how envious he had always been that Oghren had always had the uncanny ability to stay continuously drunk and still manage to lift his ax at the same time. But now that there was no blight to stop, no Archdemon to slay, and his heart was feeling as heavy as an Alpha Ogre, Alistair had absolutely no reason to stay sober.
"H-Hey-y-y!" he laughed. "Do you know what I..." hiccup "...what I just remembered?"
"Noo, what?" Leliana slurred a reply back with comically widened blue eyes.
"The first time we were here," he gestured exaggeratedly at the room around them. "Lyna went up to that door there, the one with those mercenaries behind it and we had no idea..." he said.
"And she knocked and they asked, 'what's the password?'," she added with a giggle.
"Right, right! And she says..." they both look at each other with wide grins.
"Er...Sausage!" they both said in unison and launched into a fit of laughter.
"Heh, sausage. What kind of stupid password is that?" Oghren commented gruffly, which only caused the two to laugh all the harder.
"Apparently not the correct one, my friend," Zevran chuckled and patted the dwarf on the back.
"No, it wasn't," agreed Alistair and the laughter died down and they all end up staring into their drinks contemplatively.
"Maker," Alistair's voice was forlorn. "I should have stopped her. I could have stopped her! Why didn't I stop her?" he slammed his fist down on the table making Leliana jump.
"Alistair," Zevran laid a hand on the bastard prince's forearm. "You could not have stopped her, no one could ever stop her from getting something that she wanted, you know this. She left me behind because she knew I would try. We both..." he pulled away and took a long pull from his tankard of ale. "We both lived full lives. You...well, pardon my saying so but...you haven't even had a chance to bed a woman yet. Virginity is a terrible thing to take to your grave, my friend."
The absurdity of that statement had Alistair laughing again and then the laughter degenerated quickly into sobs. "Why are you even trying consoling me? I should be the one consoling you!" he pointed out as Zevran slid onto the bench next to him and put an arm around Alistair's broad shoulders.
"Because for me, it is not really goodbye, Alistair. I shall see her again one day," his tone was sincere.
"You really believe that?" Alistair asked.
"Yes, and why not? Who is to say what truly happens when we die? I just have a feeling that Lyna is not yet done with me. We have unfinished business, she and I. In another life perhaps, but still...she wanted us to live, yes? And live I shall, everyday is for her, I honor her in this way...and so should you," Zevran pointed out. "That does not mean that I have not mourned or do not mourn her, but I shall also remember everything that was wonderful about her, and celebrate her life."
"So you're saying that I should live and be happy? For her?" Alistair asked as he wiped the tears from his face with the backs of his hands.
"Exactly!" Zevran nodded. "I think as a start, you should get rid of that pesky innocence!"
"My what?" Alistair's face screwed up in confusion. "I'm not innocent. Why does everyone always say that? I've killed countless dark spawn-," he started to say.
Leliana giggled. "He means you should sleep with someone," she said, interrupting his rant before it really had a chance to get going.
"Oh," Alistair's ears turned a deep red.
"Aye! Get you some of that, lad!" Oghren chuckled. "Forge the moaning statue, roll your oats, buck that forbidden horse, tap the midnight still, if you will!"
Alistair gave Oghren the goggle eyed drunken gawk of incredulity, "You're just making those up as you go along, aren't you?"
"Nope, heh. Been savin' em," he laughed and winked at the former Templar. "What about it, Sister? Wanna teach the Templar here how to properly go about 'greasin the pink bronto'?"
Leliana's face colored. "Actually, as thrilling as I know it would be," she poked Alistair in the side affectionately. "I am already seeing someone."
"What?" the three men aked at the same time.
She smiled sheepishly. "I have been asked to visit with Bann Teagan at his estate. If I am reading the signs correctly I would guess that he is quite interested in me. Being that he's practically your Uncle, Alistair...that would make it a bit...awkward."
"Auntie Leliana," he snickered. "Maker's breath, that does sound dreadful!"
"Well then, that settles it!" Zevran slapped his hands down on the table and pushed himself up, then he grabbed Alistair by the bicep and pulled him up as well.
"Settles what? Hey...Ow!" he protested. "Where are we going?"
Zevran dragged the hapless Alistair with him to the establishments proprietor. "Sanga, my sweet. Can you believe that this young, strapping, handsome, brute has never before partaken in the pleasures of a woman's charms?" he gestured to Alistair who at once looked very much like a halla caught in lamp lights.
"Never?" she looked Alistair over. "Honey, where've you been all our lives, eh?"
Alistair chuckled nervously and ran his hand through his hair, "Uh...the Chantry?" he gulped loudly.
"You poor man!" she poked her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout and took him by the arm. "Well, you just let Sanga fix you right up, love!" she looked past him to Zevran. "I assume you'll be footing the bill?"
"Yes, yes!" Zevran waved them away. "Just make sure the young man is thoroughly educated, my dear."
"Oh, don't worry about that, lovey!" she giggled. "Now, handsome. Those fine men over there," she gestured to the bouncers, "are there to make sure you don't get too rough. Not that I think they'll be needed, mind you. No, you look as tame as a kitten, you do," she teased. "What would you like, love? The Men or the women?"
"Women?" Alistair said after a moment. He was a little shocked at the question. Did he look like he fancied men? He'd heard of such a thing...certainly. Mostly from Zevran, of course. And then there was Master Wade and Herren...
Alistair watched as the women were lined up in front of him. He couldn't help himself, he simply stared. After a moment he felt Sanga give him a swat on his backside making him jump with a yelp and the women before him giggled. "Be careful with this one, girls, he's fresh from the chantry and a little shy," she winked.
Alistair cringed, expecting the women to shrink back from him, but to his surprise they all cooed and giggled. Some stepped forward and circled him, reaching out and feeling the muscles of his arms and making approving little noises. Soon his face broke out into a goofy smile, obviously enjoying the attention.
"Now, now ladies...give the poor boy some room. He's to get himself a proper education and he has a patron. I imagine a few of you will get your turn. I believe he's a Grey Warden after all, there's more than one legend about their stamina, am I right girls?" she grinned.
"What? Really? Legends?" Alistair choked out. Not only was he going to do this once with one of these women, he was expected to...with a few of them. "Not all at once, right?" he asked fearfully.
That had several of the women giggling again. One of them, a tall leggy brunette with green eyes and full lips stepped forward. "I'll take him first...that is...if he finds me agreeable," she stepped into his space and leaned into him, her hands smoothing up over his well muscled chest appreciatively.
"Yes," Alistair squeaked and then cleared his throat and then replied with a deeper, "I mean, yes of course. I approve!"
Her face broke out into a smile that had Alistair's heart thumping hard in his chest. To say he was nervous was putting it lightly. She led him away as the other girls made disappointed noises and called dibs on the next session with him.
Four women and many hours later Zevran finally had to put a stop to it, much to the ladies' great dismay, he dragged a tired Alistair back to the inn room they were sharing together. The room had two beds, which Alistair insisted upon, knowing the elf as he did. Zevran had teased him mercilessly but was not unhappy with the arrangement. He crawled into his bed just as Alistair was pulling off his shirt. "Braska!" Zevran whistled.
"Huh? What?" Alistair asked in confusion.
"You are completely covered in love bites and scratch marks!" Zevran exclaimed with pride in his voice. "I wish Lyna were here to see this!"
"Maker!" Alistair shook his head and pinked in embarrassment. "She'd never let me live it down!"
"Four!" Zevran laughed heartily. "I can't believe you had four women tonight, my friend. You my dear Alistair, are a freak of nature! I salute you!" the elf held his hand up to his forehead in a salute often given by the Denerim City guards.
"Dark Spawn blood," Alistair grunted. "Apparently in addition to shortening your life span it also enables me to...uh...recover quickly," Zevran couldn't see it in the dim firelight of the room but Alistair was blushing from head to toe.
"That explains...alot actually," Zevran said thoughtfully.
"Andraste's arse! I don't want to hear about you and Lyna. Don't tell me! Maker's breath, hearing the two of you caterwauling in camp was bad enough!" he dived into his bed and pulled his pillows over his head. "I'm not listening, la-la-la-la-la!"
Zevran chuckled to himself. Alistair was still very much a boy in many respects. So naïve and yet, Zevran found himself envying the young man's boyishness. It was endearing and was something that he himself had not possessed since the Crows bought him at the tender age of seven. "So now that you are a man, tell me what you intend to do with the rest of your life."
Alistair slowly took the pillow from his head, "I have to go to Highever...at least for a few weeks. Then I'm going down to Amaranthine, I suppose. Anora called in in the Orlesian Wardens to rebuild the order. They arrived a week ago, or so I was told."
Zevrans eyebrows knitted together, "She didn't ask you to take Command?"
Alistair let out a bitter laugh, "She did, but as Lyna once said, she wouldn't trust me to lead us to lunch. So I turned it down. I don't mind though. I never wanted to lead anything. I like to follow, following is good," he rambled.
"You did a wonderful job leading the charge at the Final battle, Alistair," the elf pointed out.
"Maybe," he conceded. "Still if I have the choice...I'd rather not. Having men's lives in my hands doesn't leave me with a good feeling," he said.
"Everyday you fight dark spawn, you have lives in your hands. You can't run away from that," Zevran replied and then rolled over. "Good night, Alistair."
A moment of silence and then, "Night."
It was some time before sleep claimed Alistair. Thoughts of the women he had bedded, the conversation he'd had with Zevran and then finally as always, the first and last person on his mind each and everyday since the final battle...Lyna, kept him awake for another hour or so before he finally drifted off into the fade.
The absence of the Archdemon made way for other dreams for Alistair in the fade. Though since he had been trapped in a nightmare with his sister/demon for almost two hours that once by the Sloth demon, he was far more conscious of his nightly imaginings. The dream he was currently in however, didn't feel at all like that, nor like any other regular dream he'd had before. It was like he was propelled from where he was to somewhere else in Ferelden.
He stood before a sprawling fortress, and at his side stood Zevran. "So, that is the Vigil? I did not realize it would be quite so large, nor quite so...filthy," the elf made a face that had Alistair chuckling.
"It does look rather a bit ruined, doesn't it?" he asked. He took in the sight of walls that looked like they were crumbling from the inside out. At first glance, he could see nothing terribly wrong. And then slowly he started to realize that there was an absence of people. Men on the ramparts, a welcoming party at the gate, sentries, noise from within, there was none of that. "Something...doesn't seem quite right here."
A scream followed his statement and from the gates a man dashed towards them. "Help me! Help! Someone! They're after me!" he tripped and went down. Alistair started rushing towards him to help him up when suddenly into view a Genlock charged towards the man, battle ax raised.
"Dark Spawn!" roared Alistair and he drew his shield and sword. Zevran was quick to respond and with the three of them they managed to defeat the monster and the Ogre that followed.
"It's you isn't it?" the man fell to his knees before Alistair. "Prince Alistair the Brave! You've come to save us!"
"What? Maker's breath! Stop that, man! I'm not a Prince, I'm not in line for the throne any longer, get up!" he pulled the man up gently as the poor soul looked as if he was about to waste away right before Alistair's eyes.
"Yes, Sir," the man said forlornly, clearly not happy with not being able to call Alistair a prince. "My Lord, the Warden-Commander...she needs help!"
"The Commander? Where is she? What is going on?" Alistair grasped the mans upper arms.
"They ambushed us, from the inside, My Lord! So much death! Surprised us in our sleep, they did!" the man sobbed. "If it hadn't been for the Commander, we'd all be dead! She and Gustav are the only Wardens left! They're holding them off, but they're getting tired. We've lost half the soldiers. I was sent to run to Amaranthine for help," he finally slumped in Alistair's grasp, probably from exhaustion.
"We need to get in there," Alistair said to Zevran after he laid the man down in a grassy patch alongside the road.
Alistair awoke with a start and immediately threw himself out of bed. He hastily pulled on some clothes and picked up one of Zevran's shoes and chucked it at the elf's head.
"Braska!" the elf swore in response after the shoe collided with his forehead. He sat straight up, his hand clutching his abused head. "Alistair, tell me that you did not just throw a shoe at me. Honestly...even for a disgraced royal bastard, that is just so rude," he chided.
"Never mind all that, look," he tossed Zevran a shirt. "Get dressed, we need to get down to Amaranthine."
"Amaranthine?" Zevran regarded Alistair as though he was a few nugs short of a dwarven stew. "Alistair, are you still drunk?"
"No, I'm not. Look, lets just say that this is another one of those crazy Grey Warden feelings, alright?" Alistair said with a hint of desperation. "If we leave now we can make it in just a few hours, just get dressed!"
"Alright, fine!" Zevran slipped the shirt on over his head and got out of bed.
"Steady men!" Sidona bellowed and watched as the dark spawn attempted break through the outer barricades. "Gustav!" she shouted to her fellow Warden at the other end of the battlement. "Man the ballista! Aim it at any dark spawn bastard that comes through that gate!"
"Yes, Commander!" he shouted back and hastily did as she commanded.
All around Sidona Andras men and women stood at the ready atop the inner walls of Vigils Keep. Out of the dozen Wardens she had been given to garrison the Vigil, only three remained...and one of those, Kristoff, was still afield. She scanned her soldiers, many of them wounded and rapidly losing strength. One man in particular caught her eye. "You! What is your name?" she pointed at the man.
The man jumped, apparently surprised that he had been noticed at all. He was painfully thin and his skin weathered. Arl Howe had not taken care of his servants while he was in power, or at least had not paid them well enough that they were able to feed themselves.
"E-Edmond, my Lady" he stammered nervously.
She offered a comforting smile which seemed to do the trick as he relaxed marginally. "Edmond," she reached out to him and drew him close to her. "I am going to need you to do something very important, when the dark spawn break through, I need you to sneak quietly out behind their line. When you get outside the outer walls I need you to make haste to the city of Amaranthine and get help. Can you do that, Edmond?"
"Y-yes, my Lady!" Edmond nodded and she released him.
"Good man!" she turned to the Seneschal at her side. "Varel, should I and Gustav perish tonight, I need you to get word to Weisshaupt about what's happened here," she ordered. "Its imperative that the First Warden know that the dark spawn have taken the Vigil, and have not retreated to the deep roads."
"As you wish, Commander," Varel looked severely worried. At the moment she didn't blame him. But he looked that way most of the time, so divining his true thoughts was near impossible for her.
"Whatever happens Varel, it has been an honor having you as my Senechal. The Queen chose well. You are a good man," she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He locked eyes with her for a moment and unspoken words of loyalty and trust passed between them.
"It has been my pleasure Commander," he placed his hand over hers for a moment and then a crash from below broke them from their exchange.
"Dworkin! The grenades!" she shouted.
"Aye Commander!" the blonde dwarf grabbed two of his lyrium bombs from the basket at his feet, "Take that beasties!" he laughed wildly, then lobbed the incendiaries into the approaching band of creatures below. They exploded on impact, sending up a spray of earth, black blood and limbs.
"Gustav, take out the Emissary!" she shouted.
"Aye, Commander!" Gustav fired the ballista into the Genlock Emissary that was directing the rest of the dark spawn below. Still they advanced and when they were far enough away from the outer walls she grabbed Edmond by the front of his leather armor, "Go now! For the Maker's sake and your own, do not be seen!" she pushed him towards the door behind them that led down a winding staircase and to the courtyard below. "Go!"
Edmond stumbled briefly and then made it to the door, flinging it open and disappearing into the darkness within.
The streets of Denerim were awake still, soldiers patrolled the streets, newly homeless citizens huddled against the walls of houses lined with scaffolding, some still awake and begging for silvers. Some huddled down in cloaks and trying to catch what little sleep they could before day break. The horde had certainly done none of these people any favors when they'd swept through Denerim. For the first time in centuries, the Alienage and the city proper could not be distinguished from each other. For Alistair and Zevran...it seemed a fitting sight.
But if Alistair was thinking any of that, it did not show in his purposeful stride or the lines and shadows on his face. Alistair was focused on one thing, and one thing only; leaving the city behind and getting to the Vigil. The Commander was in trouble and he refused to be the only Grey Warden left in Ferelden.
They left the city limits easily enough, but after an hours worth of travel, both he and Zevran quickly realized that the dark spawn were not going to ground as history had predicted. They came upon burnt remains of what used to be whole farmsteads, bodies hanging from trees, mangled corpses of cattle and sheep. Every so often there was a body lashed to a statue with rope and bits and pieces of discarded trash or strung up from a tree...evidence that the dark spawn were still making their presence felt in Ferelden. Alistair gritted his teeth as he passed these by. Normally he would have taken the bodies down and seen them given a proper funeral. But there was no time for that. So instead he lowered his head and concentrated on the road before them, the Pilgrims Path had never seemed so dark in all the time he had spent on the road, with Duncan nor with Lyna.
"Maker's breath!" exclaimed Zevran. "I thought the dark spawn would retreat to the deep roads," the elf hissed as they passed a burnt out shell of a house. Though the smell spoke of more than burnt wood and paint.
"I thought so too," Alistair growled.
They made it to the Vigil quickly, their pace being that of the lengthy quickened strides of the Grey Warden rather then the former Crow. Zevran had taken to glaring at his companion by the time the Vigil was in sight.
Alistair had stopped just before the outer gates and then looked around as if expecting something to leap out at him at any moment.
"Alistair-," Zevran started to say something and was cut off by Alistair's raised hand.
"Any moment now," Alistair said in a hushed voice.
Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you will tell me what we are waiting for? Maybe then I could hallucinate it along with you, yes?"
Alistair shot the elf a glare which received a shrug in reply.
Some moments passed and Alistair fidgeted with his plate gloves nervously. "This isn't right," he said with a frown. "This isn't how it happened," Alistair muttered.
"Maker's breath!" Zevran swore. "Tell me you did not drag me all the way out here, simply because you had a nightmare."
"It was more than that!" Alistair snapped back.
Zevran sighed, "Alright, alright. You are so tense, maybe you need a massage."
"The Vigil looks the same as in my dream," Alistair muttered ignoring Zevran's comment.
Zevran turned from Alistair to face the building in question. "So, that is the Vigil? I did not realize it would be quite so large, nor quite so...filthy," the elf made a face that had Alistair chuckling.
"It does look rather a bit ruined, doesn't it?" he asked and then his eyes widened. This is exactly like what happened in his dream. Zevran had said the Keep looked filthy and then he said it seemed ruined and then he said, "Something...doesn't seem quite right here."
And just as his dream predicted, a scream followed his statement and from the gates a man dashed towards them. "Help me! Help! Someone! They're after me!" he tripped and went down. Alistair started rushing towards him to help him up when just as before, a Genlock charged towards the man, battle ax raised.
"Dark Spawn!" roared Alistair and he drew his shield and sword. Zevran was quick to respond and with the three of them they managed to defeat the monster and the Ogre that followed.
"Its you isn't it?" the man fell to his knees before Alistair. "Prince Alistair the Brave! You've come to save us!"
"What? Maker's breath! Not again! Stop that, man! I'm not a Prince, nor am I in line for the throne any longer, get up!" he pulled the man up gently as the poor soul looked as if he was about to waste away right before Alistair's eyes.
"Yes, Sir," the man said forlornly, clearly confused that Alistair said 'not again' as he was certain he'd never met Alistair before now. "My Lord, the Warden-Commander...she needs help!"
"I know, I came as quickly as I could," Alistair responded.
"They ambushed us from the inside, My Lord! So much death! Surprised us in our sleep, they did!" the man sobbed. "If it hadn't been for the Commander, we'd all be dead! She and Gustav are the only Wardens left! They're holding them off, but they're getting tired. We've lost half the soldiers and she asked me to run to Amaranthine for help," he finally slumped in Alistair's grasp, probably from exhaustion.
"We need to get in there," Alistair said to Zevran after he laid the man down in a grassy patch alongside the road.
"Did you truly dream all this?" Zevran asked with awe and a touch of disbelief on his face.
"Don't ask me how, maybe it really is a Grey Warden thing. I don't know for certain, I'd only been a Warden for six months before Ostagar," Alistair admitted.
Zevran drew his longsword and dagger. "Fascinating! Well, let us get in there and save our Warden-Commander, yes?"
Alistair drew his own weapon and shield, "Yes."
A/N: Alistair to the rescue! So, what do you think?
Once again, a big thank you to Melismo. She makes all the bad grammar go away.