That You May Always Remember Me

AN: Reformatted! The more I thought about this story the more ideas I got, so I reformatted so that the average chapter is longer. No part of the story has been changed, so no need to reread chapters 1 through the first half of 6 for those who are up to date. Definitely more to come, and thank you so much to all the reviewers! It was a review that inspired me to update sooner rather than later.

Chapter 1

"You're not real"

The first time was in the bathroom. Alistair was staring into the mirror intently while shaving his coarse stubble with a sharp blade when he thought he saw someone standing behind him. He flinched and turned to see who had intruded on him, but there was no one there. Writing the incident off as a trick of the eyes he turned back to the mirror to attend to the fresh cut on his cheek.

The second time he was sitting on his throne in the Great Hall, trying to pick the last remnants of dinner out of his teeth with his tongue. It seemed the entire Bannorn was packed into the room, whining about one thing or another. Alistair suddenly felt guilty. After all, the Breach and ensuing Rifts had done a number on these people's homes. The least he could do was listen to their impossible demands. His eyes passed over the crowd but darted back to a particular woman. She wasn't dressed in the same finery as those around her. She was small but muscular, stood quietly without speaking to anyone, but her bright hair was unmistakable. She looked up to meet his gaze and his heart suddenly leapt into his throat before falling into his stomach. All the air seemed to be forced out of his lungs once he realized he had locked eyes with the Hero of Fereldan.

"Alistair?"

The call of his name drew him out of the trance and back to Anora, who sat to his left and was staring at him impatiently. A few nearby nobles had the same expression on their faces as well. Alistair had clearly missed something. "I…" He looked back into the crowd but she had vanished. Surely, she had never been there to begin with. It was impossible. Expectant eyes still watched him and he swallowed hard. "I… agree with whatever Anora said."

This seemed to satisfy them enough, though Anora watched him cautiously a moment more before moving back to her work. He kept quiet for the rest of the meeting, scanning the room every so often, but never seeing her again. He wasn't sure if this made him happy or disappointed and was unusually aware of the heat in his face. He left as soon as he could manage it and raced to his room. Once there he plopped onto a well upholstered chair and leaned forward, running his hands all over his face and hair. He breathed heavily and slowly until he could no longer hear his heart beating in his ears. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. He was just tired or the fish he had for dinner had gone bad. It was cruel of his body to make him see something like that, but it was nothing worth getting upset over.

He took in one last deep breath, uncovered his eyes, and fell backward in his chair. That was the third time he saw her. Positioning himself on his hands and knees he peered around the overturned chair. She was standing in the middle of his room, staring at him. They stayed like that for a while, silently considering one another, until Alistair finally stood and took a curious step forward. She was different than he last remembered, but there was no mistaking her. She was dressed in leathers and furs, her hair was long and braided down her back, and she seemed older, though no less beautiful. Her eyes were the same glittering dark blue and they looked at him with a sadness he had only seen in her a handful of times. He took another step forward and reached a palm out towards her cheek. Her skin began to shimmer when he got close to touching it and he pulled back suddenly.

"You're not real," he said, only realizing how angry that made him when heard it in his voice. She frowned but remained silent, and he began to pace the room. "Of course you're not real," he mumbled, "You're dead." He turned back to face her. "What are you then? Why are you here?" She stared blankly back at him.

"Alistair?" Anora's voice called from the other side of the door, accompanied by gentle knocking. They hadn't shared a bedroom since the first night of their marriage, and normally respected each other's privacy enough to keep their distance when one of them chose to retreat to their own space. The fact that she was here now meant Alistair had acted even stranger than he thought.

"Come in," he called, resigning to the fact that she deserved at least a semblance of an explanation.

Upon entering she looked from his disheveled appearance to the chair lying on the floor, and then back at him. "Is everything all right?" He gazed back at the vision of Elissa, or whatever it truly was. Anora followed his eyesight and frowned. "Alistair?"

He turned to his Queen and quirked an eyebrow. He thought the presence of the strange woman would elicit some sort of response from her, but Anora simply continued to stare at him concerned. "I… You don't see…?"

"Alistair, what are you talking about?" Anora's patience was beginning to unravel. She looked over to the empty space his eyes kept darting toward and crossed her arms. "Are you sick?"

She couldn't see her, but he could. Elissa continued to just stand there, looking sad and out of place, and Alistair didn't know what to make of any of this. "Sick… Yes, that must be it. Must have been the fish. I think I'm just going to turn in early."

Anora nodded. "I can arrange for the physician to meet with you in the morning, if you like."

He stared at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. "That would probably be good."

The two politely said good night, and Anora shut the door quietly. Alistair sighed and looked back to find Elissa had vanished. He was silently grateful for this, unsure that he would have been able to sleep with her staring at him like she was.

OOOOOOOOOO

"I'm afraid I don't see anything wrong with your eyes, Your Majesty." The physician held the King's eyelids open as he stared intently into amber irises.

Alistair sighed while the doctor let go of his face and began scribbling some notes. "Are you certain? Then why am I…?" He glanced over at Elissa who stood, arms crossed, in the corner of the room. "…feeling so strange?"

The physician shrugged. "There could be many explanations: an imbalance of the humors, exhaustion, stress… Sometimes the best medicine is taking a little bit of time to ourselves to relax." He looked up under grey bushy brows and smiled. "Surely, the king has more reason than anyone to be a little overwhelmed."

"I'm not overwhelmed," Alistair argued, then added under his breath, "At least no more than usual." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This all came on so suddenly; there must be some sort of explanation!"

"Well, whatever it is, it isn't physical." He put his notes down and placed a hand on Alistair's back, ushering him off the stool on which he sat and slowly out the door. "Take a nap," he instructed, "take a bath, take a vacation. I promise you'll start to feel better."

OOOOOOOOOO

Alistair rested his heels on the edge of the tub and sunk his shoulders beneath the warm water. It felt nice, but to him baths were a necessity, not a form of relaxation. They were too quiet. He hated quiet. He wriggled his toes and turned his feet to see Elissa standing at the end of the tub, staring out the window. "How's the weather looking?" he asked. She turned to stare at him blankly. She never responded, but Alistair had gotten into the habit of talking to her. After all, she was always around and he had never been very good at keeping his thoughts to himself.

He studied her closely. Why didn't she look the way he remembered her? Why was her hair different? And her clothes? If she was a figment of his imagination wouldn't she look the way he always pictured her: with her armor tossed to the side, eyes shining, and mouth smiling? This Elissa was hard and sad, and she didn't look at him the same way the real Elissa used to. Especially at this moment, when there was nothing but flimsy soap bubbles covering up certain portions of his body. No, those dead eyes were not Elissa's, but what was she then?

She turned back to the window and Alistair stood, attempting to shake off the excess water on him like a Mabari. He stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around him, and headed for his bedroom. Clearly, a bath had not been the solution.

OOOOOOOOOO

"The Maker works in mysterious ways. Sometimes we don't understand his messages until we're meant to."

Alistair rested his chin in his palm as he leaned forward on the chair in the Revered Mother's office. It was a very rare occasion that he would turn to the Chantry for life advice, but he was desperate. Elissa, once again, stood by the window, watching the outside world serenely. "But there must be a way to interpret these messages, right?"

The priest tilted her head. "Perhaps. Tell me, Your Majesty, what message do you feel the Maker has sent you?"

Alistair watched Elissa, though to the Revered Mother it seemed he was only staring at the clouds. He recalled a lay sister he once met who claimed to have visions sent by the Maker, and how she was regarded as a delusional heretic when she shared them with others. He knew he'd be treated no better if he tried to explain that he saw his dead ex-lover everywhere he went. "No, it's not like that. I've just been thinking lately. What if… theoretically… someone saw something that wasn't actually there? What sort of advice would you give them?"

The Revered Mother folded her hands on her lap and spoke calmly. "I would tell them to pray very hard. It is only through prayer and reflection that we may find clarity."

And that's how Alistair found himself kneeling in the Chantry in desperate prayer, though it was mostly a loosely connected and completely off-topic stream of thought that ended in him realizing Lake Calenhad is shaped like a bunny. He was never very good at praying. He felt a shift in the area around him and opened one eye to find that Elissa had left his side. At first he was surprised the Mother's advice had actually worked, but upon examining the rest of the room he saw that she was simply moving toward the door. Hoping this might be the sign he was looking for, he followed her.

The Denerim marketplace was loud and crowded, but Elissa maneuvered through it with ease. Alistair thought he saw her physically pass through a few people as he attempted to follow her path, and decided that he would later have to add that to the short list of clues he had for whatever she was. Eventually, though, the crowd became too thick and he lost sight of her. He found an empty piece of wall nearby to lean on while he got his bearings again, when a familiar voice greeted him.

"Alistair?"

The King looked up to see Fergus Cousland handing the reigns of his horse to a stable boy and smiling brightly at him. He and Elissa had the same smile. "Fergus! I wasn't aware you were in town."

"Just passing through," the Teryn of Highever explained. "What luck that I would run into you. I was about to get some lunch, if you'd like to join me."

Alistair looked past him and spotted Elissa, moving toward the city gates. He wondered if he should try to solve the mystery of her destination, but upon looking back at the familiar and corporeal face of Fergus he decided that there were no answers where she went, but Fergus may yet have something to offer. "I'd love to."