Sorry for the delay. It has taken me a while to write this one. I hope it is worth the waiting.
Marika Haliwell: LOL. You should write your own story. Haha. So just like him, right? Thanks so much for commenting. And sorry for my late reply. *hugs*
doristhe changer: Hm, I think, you may be right about your prediction... Thank you so much for reading and supporting me. :D
And thanks to anybody else who cares to read this story. Enjoy reading.
Chapter 23 - Till Death Do Us Part
The words had only just left the Grand Cleric's mouth when Franderel burst into tears of shame, threw himself into the dust at my feet and begged for forgiveness, confessing all his crimes and announcing he would give up his titles and lands and spend the rest of his life in a monastery, doing good to atone for his sins. Then he jubliated "Hail King Alistair!" and his followers joined in, chastened and ashamed of their accusations and treacherous acts. I generously forgave them as I am a just and wise king and we all came together for the greatest group hug ever. And then we all lived happily ever after...
Just kidding.
Let's call it wishful thinking on my part, okay? You wanna know what really happened? The whole unadorned truth? Just the cold, hard facts? Just so you know, it's not pretty, so don't say I didn't warn you.
The Grand Cleric's declaration was followed by a brief moment of complete silence. I was thunderstruck. Somehow I had never expected this outcome, despite Mrs. Couldry's and Leliana's interference. Obviously Franderel was as surprised as I was, since for the first time ever he was slack-jawed and quiet. Not for long, though.
"Seriously?" I asked timidly when some of my followers started clapping their hands hesitantly. Some uttered meek cheers. Everybody could feel the tension in the room, the fury seething just below the surface, the hatred that hung in the air like a poisonous fog. And then Franderel recovered from the first shock and chaos broke lose.
"No! Not true! This is not happening! This is fake!" Franderel shrieked, his red fat face puffed and contorted in anger as he stomped his feet like an oversized toddler. "You are a FAKE!" he cried, pointing his finger at the Grand Cleric. "You're not the Grand Cleric, you're some kind of disgusting demon. You're possessed. Evil magic is at work. The Orlesians have taken over. They aim to destroy Ferelden!"
He went on and on. His voice grew louder and louder, a shrill flood of lies, insults and obscenities. The cautious cheers of the pro-Alistair folks were drowned by shouts of anger from the riled up crowd, insults spat at me and my supporters, threats of death and whatever kindness the Franderel-side had to offer.
"How dare you!" the Grand Cleric protested indignantly. "I demand an apology. My judgment is based on..." She struggled against the insults crashing down on her like a storm surge and was swept away in the maelstrom of lunacy that errupted from Franderel's mouth.
"Alistair!" Leliana hissed next to me. "Do something!"
"Like what? Could you get a bit more specific?" I muttered.
"Something... something to stop him!" Leliana said helplessly. Even the master manipulator didn't know how to handle Franderel. Reason, respect, honour, etiquette, rules—Franderel didn't even know what these words meant. Even threatening him didn't work as it turned him into a martyr, and to him and his supporters, proved his absurd theories true. So, with tremendous effort, I fought down the urge to just punch that ranting douchebag in the face.
"SILENCE!" I roared in my best kingly voice—and was ignored. I still wonder if there had been something I could have done to prevent what happened next. Perhaps things would have been different if I had just acted on instinct. Perhaps it all would have been worse. Perhaps if I had acted earlier... Perhaps if I had squelched Franderel's venomous tirade right away... Perhaps if I had Franderel arrested... Perhaps if I had killed him... Back then, in the heat of the moment, it didn't seem wise to take him captive or slaughter him right there in front of his supporters. What I wanted, what I needed was the peaceful acceptance of the Grand Cleric's judgment. Maybe a greater man than I am would have united Ferelden. Alas, there was only Alistair—and Alistair failed. I didn't have the presence of mind that was required in that situation. So, my outcry was answered with someone from the crowd throwing a heavy silver goblet at me. I ducked, it sailed past my head and hit the Grand Cleric instead. She went down like she were struck by lightning, a heavily bleeding gash opening at her forehead.
Franderel pointed at me and shrieked: "He murdered the Grand Cleric!"
And that was it. The straw that broke the camel's back. Whatever had held the opposing parties at bay it POOFed! and with a unison roar of anger, everybody in the hall drew their weapons and attacked their foes with uncontrolled frenzy. People ran for the doors and found them blocked by Franderel's mercenaries, cutting down anybody in their way. Blood splattered across the floor, screams echoed through the hall, the sound of bones breaking, metal scraping against metal...
Next to me, Jane went into hysterics, running around like a headless chicken. Rori cursed like a sailor as she entered the fight with whirling blades, Fergus at her side to take care of those who escaped her. Her uncle, Angus Mac Eanraig, came upon his enemies like a leviathan. Franderel himself was caught in the middle of the raging battle. It suddenly dawned on him that it wasn't the brightest idea he ever had to rile up a crowd when he was right there in the line of fire. He shrieked like a pig, stumbled and fell, crawling away from the fight and towards one of the doors on all fours as quickly as he could.
I scored at least one hit by kicking his unprotected hindquarters. He slammed face-forward on the ground, slid across the floor and straight out of the door. "GOAL!" I cheered. Things were beginning to look up. And then they got even worse when I didn't even get to draw my weapon before Leliana cried: "Protect the king!" Her words put Shale into action, as if activated by a control rod. The massive golem lifted me off the ground and clamped me under its arm like a blasted rugby ball, my feet dangling in the air uselessly as Shale started a run for the Royalists. Franderel's defense stepped up, but couldn't stop the golem's drive. It just shoved them aside, arm outstretched, and stomped those too slow to get out of its way into the ground.
"Hey! What are you doing?! Put me down!" I protested. Out of the corner of my eye I could I could see Franderel flee out of the hall. "He's getting away! Go after him! To the right, to the right!" I shouted at the golem without any success. I kicked and screamed orders but Shale never put me down, not even when we stormed out of the hall into the arcade. There the golem almost stumbled over Mrs. Couldry swinging her ladle against five broadshouldered mercenaries. Needless to say, the poor lads didn't stand a chance.
"Youths nowadays just have no manners," Mrs. Couldry greeted us as she whacked the last mercenary over the head forcefully. "Five strong men attacking a helpless old woman!" She shook her head sadly at the abasement of morality while tucking her ladle in the waistband of her apron.
"Helpless my ass!" I snorted and Bang! Bang! Mrs. Couldry's wooden ladle went down on my head.
"Language!" she shrieked. "And don't you get fresh with me, young man! To keep you alive is harder a job than I have ever had."
"You're fired!" I snapped, squirming and kicking to finally escape the golem's hold. "Let go of me! Rori is still in there! I have to help her! I have to stop this madness!" Inside the hall, the battle was still raging. It was impossible to tell who had the upper hand. Franderel had promised to drain the swamp. He certainly kept true to his promise. The already thinned out nobility was eradicating itself in yet another bloody confrontation.
"All in good time," Mrs. Couldry said grimly. "Right now, there is nothing you can do. It is not in your power. Franderel had it in his hands. He could have sworn fealty and paved the way to unite the kingdom. Alas, neither he nor his supporters saw reason. Bloodshed was inevitable."
"Not Rori's blood! Let go of me! I can... I must help her!"
"Don't be silly!"
"But there has to be something we can do! We cannot just let this happen!" I protested stubbornly.
Mrs. Couldry gently patted my cheek. "Words can only reach those who are willing to listen. It is not your fault, lad. This all already started with Maric's disappearance."
"It's not even six months since I became king, and they are already bashing their heads in!" I cried out desperately, unconvinced by Mrs. Couldry's explanation. This was my responsibility. I wasn't like my father. I didn't even get anywhere close. I was just Alistair—when had that ever been enough? "What kind of king does that make me?"
"The one this kingdom needs," Mrs. Couldry said, and she really sounded as if she believed that nonsense. "Shale, you take the king to a safe place. I won't have gone through all of this just to lose him to his own foolish bravery."
And then the old hag went to war—backed up by Sergeant Kylon and the Denerim palace guards—while I was dragged away like a disobedient toddler and grounded in Wulff's office with the golem guarding me. Shale just tossed me into the office and slammed the door shut. I was left to drum my fists against the locked door, shouting insults and threats at the golem outside while my kingdom was tossed into yet another civil war. The culprit was on the run. My love and my unborn child were in deadly danger. And Mrs. Couldry acted as if everybody was replaceable but me. It was just like the siege of Denerim when Suri had sacrificed herself so I could live. I was so sick and tired of all of this. I didn't want to be left behind anymore, to live on when everyone dear to me was gone. And yet here I was, same shit, different day. Things couldn't possibly get any better, right?
Finally realizing the golem wouldn't let me out, I tried to break down the door. I scanned the room—huge, extremely tidy desk, finely carved chairs, shelves upon shelves filled with books—for something to break down the doors. There wasn't anything useful and I was more likely to break my leg or shoulder should I try to kick down or ram the door.
"Alright Alistair, this is a quite massive door with an extremely massive golem in front of it," I muttered to myself. "You'll never get out that way. But..." I turned toward the windows framed by long, dark red curtains. The moment I put my hands on the handle and opened the windows there was movement beside me. The curtain was swaying, I spun round, suddenly face to face with the very last person I would have expected. "Wha...?" was all I managed to say before I was stabbed. Yep. Stabbed. Right in the chest. With a really long, sharp letter opener. Unbelieving, I stared at the handle sticking out of my body—it was shaped like a snake. How very fitting!—and back at the face of the man who had just murdered me. Spitefulness and hatred stared back at me from cold narrow eyes in a blotched red face. Franderel. Of all people! Seriously?! Life was such a bitch! Boy! I could have handled getting killed by Zevran. Even choking on a piece of ham sandwich or falling out of bed at night and breaking my neck. But being stabbed by Franderel? After all I had gone through? I was seriously pissed.
The look on my face must have been so damn furious that Franderel got scared. He stumbled backwards when I staggered towards him, grabbed the dagger to stab me again but hit thin air as I just slipped to the ground helplessly, tearing down the curtain in a last attempt to keep myself on my feet. At the same time, there were voices and movement in front of the door. While I was flopping around like a beetle on its back, Franderel frantically searched for a way to escape. He turned in circles to find somewhere to hide—finally darting towards the sofa. He had just squeezed himself under it when the door swung open and in stormed Rori, followed by Mrs. C, Wynne, Leliana and Shale.
"Alistair!" Rori cried out, falling to her knees beside me, clutching my hand. All color drained from her face, she bent over me, her hands pressed on the wound to stop the bleeding. "What... what happened?"
Yeah, well, let's see. I was dragged away from a battle where I could possibly have died in a heroic way and got locked into a room like a misbehaving brat for my own safety only to get murdered by the biggest liar and coward in all Thedas that was currently hiding under the sofa and—judging from the puddle on the floor—wetting himself. That quite summarized it. Unfortunately all I got out was: "Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle..." combined with spitting a whole lot of blood.
"Step aside, girl." Wynne, all business, checked my wounds with practiced skill. "Don't speak!" she scolded me softly when I opened my mouth and all that came out was just another gust of blood.
I flailed with my arms to point out Franderel over there under the sofa and was scolded again to keep still. Just awesome! The way I lay on the floor I could see him quite clearly, but none of the women were aware of him hiding there. Leliana and Mrs. Couldry were at the window, convinced the assassin had left the room that way. Leliana even climbed out to chase the murderer. If she only had paid some attention she could have saved herself the effort. But I guess even master spies make errors. Rori only had eyes for me, and Wynne was concentrating on casting healing spells. Only Shale stomped around the room, unimpressed by my display of squishy flesh creature inferiority.
Once again I tried to point out Franderel under the sofa. "He has cramps," Wynne murmured worriedly. No! For fuck's sake! I didn't have fucking cramps! I was pointing my freaking leg at the guy under the sofa as Rori was clutching my hands! Fuck! Out of all shitty days, this one was about to become the shittiest ever.
"Stay with me, boy," Wynne breathed, sweat forming on her forehead, her hands shaking from the effort of working her magic. "Oh, he's slipping away... You have to fight it, Alistair..."
Fight, right. What did she think I was doing? I was far too angry to die now. Not like that. Not while Franderel, that sodding bastard, was still alive. Not when Rori was here... Rori... She pressed my hand to her face, kissing my knuckles one by one. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and there was absolutely nothing I could do to comfort her. "Alistair, please stay with me," she sobbed. "Please. I love you."
Oh Rori...
I never had the chance to tell her what she truly meant to me. How much I cared. How she had brought me back to life when I had hardly been more than the walking talking shell of the man I used to be. I had never had the courage to tell her how damn wonderful she was. And now it was too late.
I was feeling so cold, so tired. I could feel my own heartbeat fade, the blood was rushing in my ears, pain surged through my body. I realized this was the very last gasp. I didn't have enough strength left for more than a few words. Did I want to end this life with "Franderel... under... sofa..." or with "I... love... you, too."? Did I want to make sure that bastard got what he deserved? You're damn right I did! But there was something more important than that. Love can be a terrible thing. It can hurt you so much it tears you apart. And still, the greatest thing you can ever learn is how to love, and be loved in return...
Oh come on! I was dying! I was allowed some platitudes. It's not as if you suddenly get super-witty when you're just about to kick the bucket.
Anyway, it was a choice between hatred and love. And although I was dying, a victim of pure hatred, I still believed love to be stronger. I wanted Rori to know. I wanted her to find the strength within her that I never had after Suri had left me. But Rori, she was different. She would cling to the faintest ray of hope and happiness and make it shine. She would cherish the beautiful memories and rise from the ashes like a phoenix.
With the greatest effort, I turned my head away from Franderel's sneer to look Rori in the eyes, so full of warmth and love and sadness. "I... I love you, too," I breathed, blood flooding from my mouth with every word. Then I went very still. I was too weak to move, my body felt so distant. I could hardly hear Rori cry my name, hardly noticed the shocked faces of Mrs. Couldry, Jane, Arl Wulff, Fergus Cousland and Maker only knows who else hovering over me, hardly felt Wynnes last desperate tries to force me to stay with the power of her magic. I tried to hold on, but I just... slipped. My head lolled to the side, and the very last thing I saw was Shale contemplating the puddle of piss in front of the sofa thoughtfully.
"Hm," the golem mused, pressing its fist against the cushioning to test it, pushing it down on Franderel. He let out a gasp of fear, panic contorting his face. Shale paused, regarding the sofa suspiciously. "This sofa seems to be quite comfortable," it droned. "Maybe I should take a seat..."
"What, ho? Help, help, help!" Franderel shrieked under the sofa.
"How now, a chicken? It shows the white feather!" Shale thundered, slumping down on the sofa. It collapsed with a loud thud, burying Franderel beneath. "Dead for a ducat, dead!" Shale noted with grim satisfaction when blood and a whole lot of rather squishy flesh formed yet another puddle on the floor.
HA! Never let it be said that the mills of the Maker grind slowly!
There was a whole lot of excitement. Nothing I really cared to noticed. My own small world got reduced to the feeling of Rori cradling me, the heat of her tears on my cold face, the softness of her lips against my skin...
... and then there was darkness.
I was floating like a feather in the wind, circling downwards slowly into the pitch black void. I wasn't scared. I was weightless. I was free. Whatever sorrow or worries had haunted me, they were gone. There was a soft glow in the distance, dots of light wafting towards me. I turned in awe when the first ball of light, like a giant soap bubble, passed by, displaying scenes that seemed familiar and yet so distant. There were so many I couldn't take a closer look at all of them, some as small as an apple, others as large as a cartwheel...
... Rori and I kissing beneath Mrs. Couldry's tomato plants...
... Me on my knees, cradling Suri's lifeless body in my arms...
... Me presenting the Lothering rose to Suri...
... Duncan walking away after he wished me luck. It was the last time I had seen him alive...
More and more bubbles wafted by, the memories of my life, good and bad times, hope and despair, love and hatred, victory and defeat. I had never before cared to notice how rich in experience my life had been. Not all of them were good but they had shaped who I was, and now looking back at this life, I realized it hadn't been that bad. Yeah, it was a rather short life, lots of death and depression and such. But the biggest bubbles with the brightest glow where those that told the story of my happy days first with Suri, then Rori.
Then all of a sudden, my falling stopped. I softly landed on solid ground. The bubbles were floating in the distance like silverish ghosts. I was stranded on a small floating island. Looking around, I noticed some kind of fluorescent pulsating rope attached to my body and connected to a tiny dot of light far above. It almost seemed as if it was... alive.
Strange.
How long I just sat there, taking in my surroundings in mild astonishment. Time didn't matter anymore. I was content watching the bubbles and waiting for what I didn't know. Not that I cared. Nothing mattered.
"Alistair."
I turned at the sound of the soft husky voice that so often whispered to me in my dreams. "Suri!" Beaming from ear to ear I jumped to my feet, bouncing toward her like a oversized puppy. She stood just at the edge of the platform. The closer I got, the more I strained the shining rope. Suri stretched her hands toward me, but stayed just out of reach. The bond held me back, so tight now it would snap if stretched any further. "What the...?" I leant against the blasted rope. reaching out to take Suri's hands. I had to hold onto her to stop the rope from pulling me back. "Suri, why don't you come closer?" I begged. For so long I had yearned to be with her again, to hold her in my arms and though she was here now, we were still parted.
"I can't," she said sadly. Only then did I notice that she wasn't standing on the plattform but... on nothing at all. She was floating in the darkness just beyond the edge. "There's no returning from death."
"Then... I should come to you?" I asked hesitantly. A shudder ran through me at the realization of where I was. Not that I had been completely oblivious to my situation. However, I had avoided naming it. Death. Whoa... I don't know what I had expected. Perhaps some skeleton dude in a black cloak with scythe. Certainly not Suri.
"You can if that is what you really want." Suri answered softly.
"I am dying, aren't I?" I laughed uneasily. "It doesn't sound as if I have much of a choice."
"You do. A strong and brave man could still fight his way back into life."
"But you don't believe I could?"
"What I believe doesn't matter, Alistair. You keep looking for others to confirm you, to lend you strength, to push you," Suri said and added with a chiding smile: "And then you complain about being pushed."
"Touché!" I admitted bashfully.
"You have to believe in yourself, Alistair. How long have I been telling you that?"
"It's a bit late now, isn't it?" I sighed.
"So, this is your choice? You want to come with me and fade into oblivion?" Suri asked earnestly. "It's what you always wanted ever since Duncan died at Ostagar, am I right? You wished to be in Duncan's place. You felt guilty, you felt he would have been the better man to end the Blight. And you feared the responsibility—feared it so much that death seemed like an easy way out."
"So, you're telling me to pull myself together and live?" I asked, confused. She didn't seem thrilled to have me here with her.
Suri sighed exasperatedly. "For the love of Lady Andraste, Alistair! Can't you for once make a decision on your own?"
"I know exactly what I want!" I exclaimed, stubbornly stomping my feet. "I want to be with you! That's all I've ever wanted. I am sick and tired of the struggle of being king. I never wanted to be king first place."
Suri rolled her eyes. "Then come with me. We can be together for always and forever. Even death won't part us," she said sarcastically. "Come with me, Alistair. All you have to do, is jump. It's so easy. Even you cannot mess that up. Jump, Alistair! Jump!" She pulled with all her strength, causing me to stumble forward—and I was right at the edge, the bond strained to its breaking point. Suddenly, I was scared. There were no shiny floating bubbles down there, just darkness. I didn't know what lay beyond. The Fade? Would I just enter into another dimension where my dreams became true? Was this the end? Would there be nothing at all? Would it hurt?
Suri sensed my hesitation. "Your life is a burden to you—that's what you keep telling everybody and their dog. So much have you lost, so many are gone. Loneliness and despair and an endless struggle. You wouldn't want to return to that, would you? All you have to do is to jump. It's so easy..."
"It... it's quite a long way down there..." I laughed nervously.
"You just fall. Climbing upwards, now that's what you should be worried about," Suri snorted.
"Shouldn't I at least give it a try?" I mumbled undecidedly.
"Should you? Why?"
One of the shiny bubbles floated past right in front of my face. Inside there was a red-haired girl with dark blue eyes like pools of mirth and a myriad of freckles, smiling at me impishly.
"Rori," I whispered, smiling back at her.
"Why waste your time on her?" Suri demanded to know. "You can't have her anyway. Do you really want to spend your life yearning for her when you can be here with me? You and I together. We are meant for each other. The ginger is just a consolation prize..."
"Hey! Don't talk about her like that! She is... my friend... and... well, actually, she's more than just a friend... she's a friend with... breasts... and all the rest..." I sighed. "I mean... I love her." My voice cracked at the memory of Rori holding me in her arms, her eyes reflecting her own agony and grief but above all... her love. All the time I had thought Suri to be my one and only true love. Rori, though I did love her, could never compete with Suri. If there had been a choice to make—Suri vs. Rori—all this time I had been absoltuely sure Suri would have won. But there was no choice—not until now. Blast! Suri was right. I was such a coward, such a fool. I had used my love for her as an excuse to avoid responsibility. It had been the same when Duncan died. It was more than just mourning. It was me being too much of a coward to live my life. It was time to accept the truth. "No, Rori's not a just a friend," I whispered, more talking to myself than to Suri. "She's much more. I do love her—as much as I love you. And although I can't be with her, I cannot just skip out on her. She's going to have a baby. My baby... I... I think I should go now..." I straightened up, finally looking Suri in the eyes.
"So, you give up your dream to return to a nightmare?" Suri asked as I pulled free from her grasp and stepped away from the abyss.
"It's not a nightmare... it's... Boy! I guess I really should stop complaining so much."
"A new mantra?" Suri teased. "You're not going to last for five minutes without me whacking you with my staff whenever you get carried away."
"Believe it or not, I found yet another stopgap to perform as a kind reminder." I chuckled.
"Farewell now, Alistair." Suri blew me a kiss, then added with a grin: "Live long and prosper. And get this kingdom of yours under control. It certainly needs some serious reform..."
"Suri!" I lauged.
"You're right. You shouldn't dawdle." Suri smiled. She was already fading, dissolving slowly to become one with the darkness again.
"Farewell, Suri. I love you. I always will." I whispered.
"Ditto," answered a bodiless voice.
Then she was gone and I was all alone again. Smiling to myself, I rolled up my sleeves and began to climb the shining rope.