Just to thank Harmakhis, Warrose, PheonRen and Jinx1983 for their awesome reviews! You guys make my day! :D

Ok, this is the sh*t-hits-the-fan chapter! LOL

Bioware, you own and I play with your characters, haha! :P

Chapter 21 - The Truth Will Set You Free

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting
I'm through with doubt
There's nothing left for me to figure out
I've paid a price
And I'll keep paying
I'm not ready to make nice
I'm not ready to back down
I'm still mad as hell and
I don't have time to go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
'Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should
Dixie Chicks - I'm not ready to make nice

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.

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They did not stop to camp as they had previously, but rather walked as fast as they could, focusing only on the thought of leaving the Deep Roads as quickly as possible. They only stopped to eat and drink water from time to time, and did not speak, all of them were lost in their private thoughts.

As soon as they found their way in the Commons, they set off towards the inn they were staying at, where they ordered some food and drink and sat at a table. Once they had eaten a hot meal, Alistair fixed his eyes on Fiona who was looking tired and stressed out.

He didn't care. He wanted the truth.

"So, Fiona," he said, a bitterness in his voice that made her start up and gaze at him sadly. "Did you know my mother too?"

"Alistair," Leliana's sweet voice interrupted him from further speech. "I think you should have this conversation once we are all rested. Right now we are too tired to-"

"No!" Alistair's fist pounded on the stone table, and his face flushed with anger, his eyes flashing. "I want her to answer my question, Leliana! And you best stay out of this!"

Fiona did not cringe. She just sat there, the expression on her eyes was so infinitely sad, that Chantalle gave a small gasp.

Whether Alistair heard or pretended not to hear, is not certain. What is certain is that the intensity of his glare stopped anyone from uttering another sound.

Fiona cleared her throat and sighed.

"Yes, Alistair. I knew your mother very well," she replied.

"You did, did you?" Alistair's voice cracked. "I want to hear it from you then. Go on. Finish what you started twenty-four years ago. I don't care anymore!"

"What I started?" Fiona asked. "Are you going to use the same judgment against me that you gave your father?"

"Are you telling me that you don't feel ANYTHING for what you did?" Alistair's voice raised slightly. He was trembling now and Chantalle moved closer to him and tried to put her hand in his. He pushed it away roughly and she gave another gasp.

He did not care. He was past caring and breathing heavily as he faced Fiona.

"You gave me away! How could you? How could you let me grow up believing a lie? How could you say my mother was dead? Why? Why did you do it? TELL ME!" His fist descended on the stone table again, this time with a resounding crack. Anders started. He could tell he'd broken some bones from the sound and the way he had winced.

Fiona stood up quickly, her anger now evident on her face. Alistair did the same. Everyone stared at them. They not only could clearly see the resemblance between the two of them, but also the dangerous glint in their eyes.

"Alistair, stop!" Chantalle shouted. "Anger will fix nothing! You must first understand why she did this. Stop treating her so badly!"

"Stop treating her badly, huh?" Alistair turned to Chantalle, his eyes still flashing angrily. "Did she stop to think what she was doing to me?"

"She told us that wardens are forced to give up their children! She didn't have a choice!" Chantalle replied, now standing to face him and angry herself.

He calmed down when he saw this and his gaze softened. In fact, he felt for a moment that he was melting under her angry stare.

"Well, Alistair. Since you already have an opinion of me, there is little I can do to change it, correct?" Fiona spoke up, bringing Alistair back to the present. She was still angry, but her voice was dangerously quiet. Alistair felt his anger flare up again.

"I was the one who made your father promise me that you would be raised away from court, away from any sibling rivalry because your father had already had Cailan. I didn't want you on the throne, if by any chance the burden happened to fall on you. It was enough that the throne turned your father into an unhappy, lonely man. You are also forgetting I hate nobility. You know very well that a noble bought me at the slave market when I was seven. The things he did to me were enough for me to hate nobility. But then I met your father and he changed that. Since Duncan was there that day, holding YOU in his arms and promised to watch over you, I felt that I was making the right choice somehow. What kind of life would YOU have had if I left the wardens to take care of you? Living with an elf like a half-breed?" She spat out the word 'elf', her chest heaving so fast, it was making her breathing come in gasps.

Her breathing hitching, her voice trembling slightly, she carried on. "You don't know how it tore me up inside, but obviously you'll never believe that! I didn't have a choice. I wanted you to have a choice to grow up away from it all. I didn't want you to know that your mother was an elf! Elves don't get to choose the way they live. They don't get a chance to be happy. So hate me all you want! I am done here!"

And with those words, she left the table and did not look back.

And Alistair Theirin turned and left the table himself, willing himself to break into a run. Not stopping. Not even when Chantalle called out his name.

He ran until his breathing came in painful gasps and he found himself on the surface again. He breathed in the cool mountain air, and walked towards the center of the surface dwarves' settlement, where there was a food and drink stand. He sat on one of the wooden stools there and then he ordered some ale. He ignored the pain shooting from his broken hand towards his brain.

And he drank a pint. Then another. And another.

Sometimes there just isn't enough ale to heal the wounds.

...

It was a very drunk Alistair who head over to the inn later that night. He stumbled along the way, muttering to himself, swaying on his feet. Soon his feet led him to a stand in the Commons.

"Hey, you!" He drawled out to the merchant there. "You have any precious stones here?"

The dwarf scowled at the drunken human. "You'd best ask again when you are sober," he growled.

"Are you threatening me?" Alistair said belligerently.

"No, I'm not. I'm simply giving you some advice," The merchant replied, his face still in a scowl.

"There you are!" Duran's voice was heard behind Alistair, who turned and swayed on his feet.

"Duran! You have to help me. See, this merchant doesn't want to answer my question," he slurred.

"I can see why. You're drunk," Duran answered, a hint of amusement barely noticeable in his voice.

"I had a few drinks, sure. But I have gold! And I need to get a stone for this ring! I need to propose to Chantalle, and I can't do it without a ring!" He complained, while taking out the silverite ring from his pocket and showing it to Duran who was now smiling.

"Well, all right. Since you are so set on it." Alistair grinned at him, his eyes lighting up. Duran turned to the sour-faced merchant now. "What stones do you have to set in this ring?"

"I don't want anything big, cause of her leather gauntlets. I want her to be able to wear it and still be able to -"

"All right, Alistair, I get it. Now let me talk!" Duran interrupted impatiently, turning back to the merchant. "Well? We haven't got all night man!" Duran said impatiently.

"I have a very small diamond here, and some sapphires. They are tiny, but should fit well into the ring. I can do it all for ten sovereigns." The merchant replied, trying to keep his voice above Alistair's, who was singing, "Sapphires! Sapphires! Her eyes are like two sapphires!"

"Ten sovereigns? You must be insane!" Duran barked. "I'll give you five, take it or leave it!"

"Fine, fine!" The merchant growled and took the coins and the ring from Alistair's hand. "It will be ready in two days."

"We don't have two days. I'll throw in an extra sovereign if you have it done by tomorrow afternoon," said Duran.

"All right! Now kindly leave and let me work in peace!" The dwarf replied.

"Come on, Alistair, let's get you back. Duran patted his arm and Alistair followed Duran back to the inn, stumbling over his feet every now and then.

...

Anders met them at the entrance. He whipped out his staff and without waiting for Alistair to react, shot him a spell that flung him onto the stone ground on his buttocks.

"Ow!" Alistair shouted, looking up at him with a hurt expression on his face. "What did you do that for?"

"I wanted to sober you up a bit," Anders grinned. "Also because you were an arse at the table."

He approached him and his hands went over Alistair's broken hand, as he healed it and the bones slowly, and painfully, knitted together.

"Ow again!" Alistair complained. "Are you going to burn me next?"

"Stop your belly-aching, Alistair. He's healing your hand, you oaf!" Duran exclaimed.

Alistair stood up. He was feeling better and his brain had cleared again. Whatever spell Anders had flung at him had worked. He was sober.

"I treated Chantalle very badly, didn't I?" Alistair said sadly. "And...Fiona too." He added as an afterthought.

"Well, I didn't know you were that smart, Alistair. Obviously you have just chosen to keep all that intelligence from us all this time," Anders smirked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Ha ha. So funny," Alistair grumbled. "The point here is that I have to fix things now. I'll head off to my room first and talk to Chantalle. I hope she listens to me."

"It's rather late now, and she's probably asleep, but I doubt she'll be able to listen to you in your room, my friend," Anders remarked, giving Alistair another smirk.

"What do you mean?" Alistair demanded. He then stopped talking as realization hit him. Running to his room, he flung the door open wide, the two men following him as he walked into the room.

All of Chantalle's things were gone.

...

Alistair groaned as he sat on the chair next to the only table in the room, and he put his head in his hands.

"Alistair, you'll have to talk to her tomorrow. Both she and Fiona will have simmered down by then."

"I can't wait till tomorrow. I won't be able to sleep!" He said, groaning again, looking up at his two friends.

"Well, you just can't barge into the room and wake them up, now can you?" Anders replied.

"What? They're staying in the same room together?" Alistair asked standing up quickly.

"Of course they are, but-"

"Thank the Maker!" He exclaimed and rushed out the room towards Fiona's.

He knocked on the door. "Chantalle, I know you are there. Please open the door," he said, breaking out in a nervous sweat.

No reply.

"Look, I know I was an arse back there. I want to talk to Fiona too. I want to say how sorry I am."

Still no reply.

"I'm not leaving till you open this door!" Alistair called out.

"Hey!" Another door opened at the end of the corridor. "Could you please keep the noise down? Some of us actually sleep at night, you know!"

"Um, sorry about that," Alistair replied as the dwarf slammed the door angrily.

"Chantalle!" He said again, his voice a bit lower. "Please, please, open the door! You have no idea how sorry I am. Please!"

The sound of the door unlocking could be heard and Alistair gave a sigh of relief. Then it was flung open.

But it wasn't Chantalle who was standing there looking up at him, tears glistening in her eyes.

It was Fiona.