"What will you do now? Will you stay with the Grey Wardens?" The King had asked while standing there before the court in the palace at Denerim. The emotions were held back and swallowed away while Alistair regarded Ferelden's hero, the elf, woman - Grey Warden, he loved. He was now the King of Ferelden and looked every part as he was dressed within Cailan's armor, stood up tall, and addressed the other Warden - his lover - with an air of superiority.
The Dalish Warden stood up straight and stared back directly at Alistair, the King, with an icy gaze that would make Morrigan's usual cold gaze look warm and smitten. "I'm going home," she responded towards him in an unwavering voice before turning to address her friends and companions and then finally leave without offering him another glance or another chance to speak with her again.
Beads of sweat dripped from Alistair's face as he quickly awoke within his bed. Another nightmare had shaken the King awake. Lately, sleep was something he was starting to believe was a myth and the dark bags underneath his eyes were proof of such.
"By the Maker," he muttered darkly to himself before wiping the sweat from his forehead and placing his face within his hands as though there would be some sign of respite for him to hide in there. One month had passed since the horrible events at the Landsmeet. Anora was still locked within one of the towers and Alistair was still unused to some of the responsibilities that were burdened upon him as King - especially with how pressing Eamon was being about a potential heir.
It had all gone wrong along the way, but he had no idea where and it constantly nagged at the back of the King's mind.
He knew he couldn't keep hiding away from the royal court forever and that eventually he was going to break. The questions, the guilt, and the emotions were all locked away behind floodgates; the brick and mortar of those gates were starting to give way...
Rising from his bed, Alistair moved towards his armoire. Rather than donning his half-brother's golden armor, as he usually did for his public outings, the King chose a tailored suit of deeply colored twill and silk.
Before closing the doors to the armoire though, something caught his attention - a small black pouch that he had wedged into one of the back corners so no one could find it. It remained in it's hiding spot since he moved into the royal palace at Denerim and he never bothered to look at it since. The man closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh. There were many memories tied to that pouch - many which he knew he should put out of his mind, but he couldn't...
"I have something for you," she said while approaching Alistair's tent at the party's camp just outside of the Southern Hills, in the forests.
"Oh, really?" He questioned while arching a curious brow towards the other Warden. "Should I be scared? Is it something from Oghren? ...It is, isn't it? He's had it in for me since I spilled his drink at Tapsters. How was I supposed to know that was a rare brew he was drinking?"
The elven woman swatted at Alistair's arm. "Quiet, you. It's not from Oghren, I promise." She sat down beside him and removed a small black pouch from one of her packs, offering it to him. "I want you to have this... It's - sentimental."
"A - pouch? Thanks?" Came the confused response from Alistair, but as he went to take it from her, he realized there was something inside of it. As he pulled open the drawstring, his fingers dipped inside and withdrew a small figure that was carved out of ironbark. It resembled a woman, but he couldn't make out the details as anything he knew.
"It's Andruil, Goddess of the hunt," the female Warden pointed towards the wooden figure that Alistair held within his hands. "She's very important to me. My vallaslin is in honor to her." To add to her point, the elf pointed towards her face and the large blood tattoo that covered the bridge of her nose and up along her brows and forehead.
Alistair sat there, looking towards the figure and feeling its smooth texture between his fingers before looking towards the other Warden as she explained her tattoo. "I had wondered about that. But, you know, was too afraid to ask."
"Too afraid? Why on earth would you be afraid to ask?" The very thought seemed to amuse the elven woman.
"Well, I've seen you around Shems. You're not too fond of all the questions and insinuations," Alistair shrugged towards her - admittedly, a bit worried about getting on her bad side.
"You are not a Shem, Alistair," she corrected him. "I just don't look kindly upon those that mean to harm my people. They are my family - all of them. Anyone who throws the term Knife Ears my way is going to regret it."
"Like Cailan?"
The elf looked away from Alistair at that point, steadying her gaze upon the ground beneath her feet. "That was a mistake," she uttered in a low voice. "When I came to Ostagar, I trusted no one, not even Duncan. All humans were dirty Shems looking to manipulate me - the elf." She then paused and looked up towards the sky, still averting her gaze from Alistair - as the thought of her foolishness deeply hurt, especially now, after discovering his blood relation to her fellow Warden. "Cailan came on very strong about his opinions of the Dalish. I did what I knew to do - fight back, at least with words... If I had known that would be my only interaction with him, I never would have done it."
Sympathy found it's way to Alistair's face as he watched her speak, seeing and hearing the pain within her words. Leaning in, he wrapped a comforting arm around his fellow Warden and lover. "Kathalla, that wasn't your fault. You know we'll get back at Loghain for what he did that day." With that, he leaned in close to place a light kiss upon her cheek and then decided a change of subject was best. "Tell me more about Andruil." He was never one to dwell on the bad.
A bright smile appeared on Kathalla's face as she was met with that kiss. The change of subject was appreciated, even silently. "Those that follow her remember her three teachings, Vir Tanadhal. The first, Vir Assan, is the way of the arrow. Strike true, and never waver. The second, Vir Bor'assan, is the way of the bow. Bend, but never break. And the third is Vir Adahlen."
"And that is?" Alistair asked while still holding the figure in his hand.
"The way of the forest. That together, we are stronger than one." Now Kathalla looked up into his eyes and smiled, adding depth to the meaning of the last part of the teachings. "Together, you and I, both Grey Wardens - a human and Dalish elf, have been stronger than whole armies across Ferelden."
Alistair felt the impact of those words. He placed the figure back in the pouch and carefully put it within one of his own packs. "I swear on my life, I will never forget this, Kathalla." His words were sincere and earnest. "Ma serannas," then came out in barely a whisper towards her - a simple word of thanks in her language, which was one of the few words he had picked up from her, yet was too scared to say it too loud, as though he may get it wrong if he were to do so.
But what Alistair received in return was the brush of her lips against his. His words, despite how low they were, did not break or fall on deaf ears.
There was another sharp inhalation as Alistair grabbed at that pouch and stuffed it into his pocket before closing the doors to the armoire and leaving his large bedroom chamber.
One of the guards that was on duty on the other side of that chamber door lifted a curious brow as he watched his King storm off in the middle of the night. "Ser?" He asked simply with concern strewn into the word.
It caused Alistair to pause within his steps before he turned around to face the guard. He straightened his back, standing tall and gaining that imposing posture that all Kings should have when addressing others beneath them. "I am still in my chamber. You never saw me, understood?" His voice sounded rather strong and intimidating, leaving little room for an actual decision to be made on the guard's part.
"Yes, Ser!" Was the quick fired response in return, as the guard stood at attention.
Alistair then turned around and continued down the long hallway, taking back passages to avoid being seen and eventually coming to one of the little known back exits of the palace - a tunnel that was created to allow the royal family a quick escape, should the palace ever fall. The man then made his way towards the stables with only the bright light of the full moon to guide his path.
After mounting his steed, he kicked at the horse's sides and quickly left the palace gates and Denerim all together. He had to do this, and he had to do this alone...