No More Heroes, Chapter 9
Finally! Apologies for the delay on this but, y'know... DA2 ;)
Title: No More Heroes, Chapter 9
Characters: Leliana, Anders, Sten, Dog & Alistair
Rating: T
Words: 1,750
Summary: The Blight has not ended. Alistair departed during the Landsmeet and both Loghain and the Warden perished in the siege of Denerim. In its wake, the scattered companions undertake a search for a wandering drunk and the witch that could save them all.
Leliana, Anders, Sten and Dog finally found Alistair sitting amongst the fallen Wardens in the ruins of Ostagar. But they do not get very far...
Previous Chapters
"How much longer must we wait?
Leliana emerged from the low tent to find Sten standing beyond the camp, staring toward the road as though he would move them forward by will alone. It had become his daily vigil, turning his eyes to distant Denerim, leaving the others no doubt as to his impatience.
"We cannot move him." Her own thoughts had had little time to stray behind the shadowed canvas at her back, but she supposed that she should be grateful for this moment of silence. They had managed to move beyond Ostagar, finding shelter in the woods surrounding the ruins, beyond the fearful stench stirred by the morning breeze. But it had not taken long to realize that Alistair could not continue.
Two days they had been here, two nights of sullen silences and shivering screams. She had done what she could. It did not seem to be enough.
Still the image of the bridge haunted, of that haggard figure outlined against the dying light. It had been slowly that she made her way toward him, her boots whispering on the broken stone as he turned away again. His armor was gone, the worn linens clinging with sweat and doing little to protect him from the cold. He had no weapon that she could see, but she spotted a jagged corner jutting from beneath him, the worn but fine edge of a familiar shield.
Crouching beside him, she followed his gaze out across the battlefield.
"You... I knew that you would come for me."
They remained in silence, words failing her once again. She had seen this expression once before, on the face of another, on that night that She had told her that She would die. Perhaps if Leliana had only argued...
Trembling at the memory, she lay a timid hand on his shoulder. "Alistair?"
He stiffened, tilting his head to look up at her. Comprehension dawned, his eyes widening as he sagged. "L-Leliana?"
"Hush. It is alright."
Something seemed to catch in his throat, a cry that could not be given voice. He collapsed against her chest, burying his face there as he heaved with dry and tearless sobs. Leliana ran a soothing hand along his back but he jerked away, leaning over to vomit into the abyss.
She noticed the bottle then, pried it gently from his fingers. It was half-empty, one sniff enough to set her eyes watering. If Alistair noticed as she set it aside, he did not protest; he had given himself over utterly to the spasms, curling in on himself as he heaved.
It had taken both Sten and Anders to help her pull him to his feet, to bear him between them from the bridge. It had fallen to Leliana to carry the shield, stooping to pick it up at Alistair's strangled cry. Though no one had asked, she found herself bowing her head. "It belonged to the Grey Warden Duncan."
Skinny as Alistair was, Sten could have lifted him with ease, but the Qunari stepped back once they were clear of the debris. He watched as Alistair staggered and fell to his knees, jerking him roughly to his feet with a growl. "He is drunk."
"You couldn't tell that by the smell?" Anders slipped an arm beneath the opposite shoulder.
Leliana sighed. "You can heal him, no?"
Looking down at Alistair, Anders shook his head. "If mages could heal this, I suspect we'd be a bit more popular. Or at least get invited to more parties."
They had made it as far as the trees, Sten's pride eventually giving way to practicality as he scooped Alistair into his arms. A small clearing had provided some refuge, the Qunari's worn tent shading Alistair from the pain of the morning's light.
Two days now and he had not emerged, barely acknowledging her attempts to feed him, ignoring utterly her invitations to bathe in the nearby stream. She had seen the effects of drink before. This was something else.
"Let me guess. He's impatient." Anders pushed through the trees, letting his pack slide from his shoulder as he smirked at Sten.
The big man grunted his assent.
"And you..." He strode over to Leliana, looking down at her with a quiet smile. "You're worried."
"Where have you been?"
He shrugged. "I went back to Ostagar. Not the most pleasant place, but it doesn't seem like darkspawn are much interested in looting. And we could use a few comforts." Fishing in his pack, he handed her a small, wrapped package. "Here."
Leliana wrinkled her nose. "What is it?"
They were interrupted by a muffled cough at their backs.
"It's for him, actually." He nodded toward the tent. "Thought it might help."
With a sigh, Leliana turned away, casting Anders a last dubious glance over her shoulder. Scraps came trotting from the forest at her approach, returned from wherever the hound had spent the night. It lay down now in its accustomed spot beside the tent, resting its head on its paws to watch her.
"Good dog."
It growled.
Leliana pushed beneath the flap, pulling it quickly shut behind her lest he cry out at the light. But Alistair did not stir, did not move from where he lay curled and facing the wall.
"You are awake." She knelt at his back.
"Maker, I wish I wasn't."
"Hush." Pulling the flask from her belt, she leaned round and held the water to his lips.
"…Thanks."
"How do you feel?"
Alistair only laughed, the sound bitter and rasping. Hunching his shoulders, he curled tighter round himself.
It was as lucid as she had seen him, but the silence only seemed to thicken, the close, warm air setting her hair on end. She sat beside him, offering at least her quiet company, but she remembered again that other silence. This may well be her only chance.
"Alistair... what happened?"
"You were there. You saw."
"But you were not. In the end, you were not there."
He shuddered visibly. When she moved to lay a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away.
"I am sorry. I did not mean... I merely thought that it might help to talk about it."
"Talk about it?" He snorted.
"I had heard that you were in Haven. Is that where you went?"
"Haven..." He shook his head, lapsing into silence once more. But some new trembling seemed to take him, his shoulders sagging as the words spilled forth. "I had hired a ship to Rivain, given them the last of my coin, too. But when it came time to board, I-I couldn't do it. So I stayed in Denerim. I'd heard that Sh- that you left, returned to Redcliff. I almost thought of following, hiding with the army but I... I didn't want to be anywhere near Her. I didn't want to help - not Her, not him. It all gets a bit... a bit muddled after that. I'd sold my gloves and my helm." He shuddered. "Cailin's helm. But I never wanted it, not the gold or the crown or... or any of it. I just wanted to forget."
Again, she offered her hand and this time he did not pull away.
"But then the darkspawn came. It was only dumb luck that I hadn't yet drank my sword. There wasn't much of a defense; I could have... done something. But I fought my way out and just kept going. I wasn't a Grey Warden anymore. It wasn't my problem, it was his. It was... Loghain's. He'd come and save the city. Even if She was at his side, even if he died, he'd still be redeemed. He'd be a hero. And I didn't want to be there to see it."
"Alistair..."
"But Haven... Haven came later. I was near Lothering. There were refugees on the road and they told me about the battle... about what had happened. I-I don't know where I went from there. I lost the rest of my armor, my sword, everything but my boots... and Duncan's shield. I drank. I drank a lot. Maybe that's all it was, but I suddenly knew I had to get to Haven. You're right, I hadn't been there. It was all my fault. But maybe there was a chance that I could... that I could fix it." He sighed. "Mad, right?"
"It is not mad to want to right our wrongs."
"No, it was mad. I... I went after the ashes." He pinched shut his eyes. "I thought that maybe I could... that maybe I could bring Her back."
Leliana's breath caught.
"I couldn't even find the temple door. Guess I wouldn't have made it very far even if I did."
"Oh, you poor dear."
"Right. Poor me. I didn't want to be a templar, couldn't stomach being a prince, gave up being a Grey Warden. Maker, even a warrior has a sword. I'm just poor Alistair. Alistair the drunk, Alistair who ran away." Tilting his head, he looked back at her with narrowed eyes. "Don't pity me. Maybe I've finally found something I'm good at."
"You are no such thing." She scooted closer, grabbing him forcibly by the shoulder to roll him onto his back. "And you cannot give up being a Grey Warden. It is in your blood."
"Yeah. Don't remind me."
Leliana sighed. "It is more than that. The Blight rages on and you have the power to stop it. Do you truly feel nothing?"
His lips twisted.
"There? You see? You know that I am right."
"What would you have me do? She was always the one who… She always just knew."
"Perhaps she did. But you will too, I think. When the time comes." Lowering her head, Leliana spotted the tiny package lying forgotten in her hand. Unfolding the wrappings, her eyes went wide. In all of the stories she had told, of the Warden, the Blight, the companions … Anders had remembered.
"What?" Alistair was watching her with a curious scowl. "What are you smiling about?"
She showed him her hand.
"Is that-?"
"No." Pulling it away, she smirked. "You will get out of this hole, Alistair Theirin. You will go down to the stream and - by all that is blessed in the Maker's sight - you will bathe yourself. Yes?"
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, considering. "And then?"
Bringing the unwrapped wedge of cheese to her nose, Leliana took a deep sniff. "And then we will speak of what comes next."
Title: No More Heroes, Chapter 9
Characters: Leliana, Anders, Sten, Dog & Alistair
Rating: T
Words: 1,750
Summary: The Blight has not ended. Alistair departed during the Landsmeet and both Loghain and the Warden perished in the siege of Denerim. In its wake, the scattered companions undertake a search for a wandering drunk and the witch that could save them all.
Leliana, Anders, Sten and Dog finally found Alistair sitting amongst the fallen Wardens in the ruins of Ostagar. But they do not get very far...
Previous Chapters
"How much longer must we wait?
Leliana emerged from the low tent to find Sten standing beyond the camp, staring toward the road as though he would move them forward by will alone. It had become his daily vigil, turning his eyes to distant Denerim, leaving the others no doubt as to his impatience.
"We cannot move him." Her own thoughts had had little time to stray behind the shadowed canvas at her back, but she supposed that she should be grateful for this moment of silence. They had managed to move beyond Ostagar, finding shelter in the woods surrounding the ruins, beyond the fearful stench stirred by the morning breeze. But it had not taken long to realize that Alistair could not continue.
Two days they had been here, two nights of sullen silences and shivering screams. She had done what she could. It did not seem to be enough.
Still the image of the bridge haunted, of that haggard figure outlined against the dying light. It had been slowly that she made her way toward him, her boots whispering on the broken stone as he turned away again. His armor was gone, the worn linens clinging with sweat and doing little to protect him from the cold. He had no weapon that she could see, but she spotted a jagged corner jutting from beneath him, the worn but fine edge of a familiar shield.
Crouching beside him, she followed his gaze out across the battlefield.
"You... I knew that you would come for me."
They remained in silence, words failing her once again. She had seen this expression once before, on the face of another, on that night that She had told her that She would die. Perhaps if Leliana had only argued...
Trembling at the memory, she lay a timid hand on his shoulder. "Alistair?"
He stiffened, tilting his head to look up at her. Comprehension dawned, his eyes widening as he sagged. "L-Leliana?"
"Hush. It is alright."
Something seemed to catch in his throat, a cry that could not be given voice. He collapsed against her chest, burying his face there as he heaved with dry and tearless sobs. Leliana ran a soothing hand along his back but he jerked away, leaning over to vomit into the abyss.
She noticed the bottle then, pried it gently from his fingers. It was half-empty, one sniff enough to set her eyes watering. If Alistair noticed as she set it aside, he did not protest; he had given himself over utterly to the spasms, curling in on himself as he heaved.
It had taken both Sten and Anders to help her pull him to his feet, to bear him between them from the bridge. It had fallen to Leliana to carry the shield, stooping to pick it up at Alistair's strangled cry. Though no one had asked, she found herself bowing her head. "It belonged to the Grey Warden Duncan."
Skinny as Alistair was, Sten could have lifted him with ease, but the Qunari stepped back once they were clear of the debris. He watched as Alistair staggered and fell to his knees, jerking him roughly to his feet with a growl. "He is drunk."
"You couldn't tell that by the smell?" Anders slipped an arm beneath the opposite shoulder.
Leliana sighed. "You can heal him, no?"
Looking down at Alistair, Anders shook his head. "If mages could heal this, I suspect we'd be a bit more popular. Or at least get invited to more parties."
They had made it as far as the trees, Sten's pride eventually giving way to practicality as he scooped Alistair into his arms. A small clearing had provided some refuge, the Qunari's worn tent shading Alistair from the pain of the morning's light.
Two days now and he had not emerged, barely acknowledging her attempts to feed him, ignoring utterly her invitations to bathe in the nearby stream. She had seen the effects of drink before. This was something else.
"Let me guess. He's impatient." Anders pushed through the trees, letting his pack slide from his shoulder as he smirked at Sten.
The big man grunted his assent.
"And you..." He strode over to Leliana, looking down at her with a quiet smile. "You're worried."
"Where have you been?"
He shrugged. "I went back to Ostagar. Not the most pleasant place, but it doesn't seem like darkspawn are much interested in looting. And we could use a few comforts." Fishing in his pack, he handed her a small, wrapped package. "Here."
Leliana wrinkled her nose. "What is it?"
They were interrupted by a muffled cough at their backs.
"It's for him, actually." He nodded toward the tent. "Thought it might help."
With a sigh, Leliana turned away, casting Anders a last dubious glance over her shoulder. Scraps came trotting from the forest at her approach, returned from wherever the hound had spent the night. It lay down now in its accustomed spot beside the tent, resting its head on its paws to watch her.
"Good dog."
It growled.
Leliana pushed beneath the flap, pulling it quickly shut behind her lest he cry out at the light. But Alistair did not stir, did not move from where he lay curled and facing the wall.
"You are awake." She knelt at his back.
"Maker, I wish I wasn't."
"Hush." Pulling the flask from her belt, she leaned round and held the water to his lips.
"…Thanks."
"How do you feel?"
Alistair only laughed, the sound bitter and rasping. Hunching his shoulders, he curled tighter round himself.
It was as lucid as she had seen him, but the silence only seemed to thicken, the close, warm air setting her hair on end. She sat beside him, offering at least her quiet company, but she remembered again that other silence. This may well be her only chance.
"Alistair... what happened?"
"You were there. You saw."
"But you were not. In the end, you were not there."
He shuddered visibly. When she moved to lay a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away.
"I am sorry. I did not mean... I merely thought that it might help to talk about it."
"Talk about it?" He snorted.
"I had heard that you were in Haven. Is that where you went?"
"Haven..." He shook his head, lapsing into silence once more. But some new trembling seemed to take him, his shoulders sagging as the words spilled forth. "I had hired a ship to Rivain, given them the last of my coin, too. But when it came time to board, I-I couldn't do it. So I stayed in Denerim. I'd heard that Sh- that you left, returned to Redcliff. I almost thought of following, hiding with the army but I... I didn't want to be anywhere near Her. I didn't want to help - not Her, not him. It all gets a bit... a bit muddled after that. I'd sold my gloves and my helm." He shuddered. "Cailin's helm. But I never wanted it, not the gold or the crown or... or any of it. I just wanted to forget."
Again, she offered her hand and this time he did not pull away.
"But then the darkspawn came. It was only dumb luck that I hadn't yet drank my sword. There wasn't much of a defense; I could have... done something. But I fought my way out and just kept going. I wasn't a Grey Warden anymore. It wasn't my problem, it was his. It was... Loghain's. He'd come and save the city. Even if She was at his side, even if he died, he'd still be redeemed. He'd be a hero. And I didn't want to be there to see it."
"Alistair..."
"But Haven... Haven came later. I was near Lothering. There were refugees on the road and they told me about the battle... about what had happened. I-I don't know where I went from there. I lost the rest of my armor, my sword, everything but my boots... and Duncan's shield. I drank. I drank a lot. Maybe that's all it was, but I suddenly knew I had to get to Haven. You're right, I hadn't been there. It was all my fault. But maybe there was a chance that I could... that I could fix it." He sighed. "Mad, right?"
"It is not mad to want to right our wrongs."
"No, it was mad. I... I went after the ashes." He pinched shut his eyes. "I thought that maybe I could... that maybe I could bring Her back."
Leliana's breath caught.
"I couldn't even find the temple door. Guess I wouldn't have made it very far even if I did."
"Oh, you poor dear."
"Right. Poor me. I didn't want to be a templar, couldn't stomach being a prince, gave up being a Grey Warden. Maker, even a warrior has a sword. I'm just poor Alistair. Alistair the drunk, Alistair who ran away." Tilting his head, he looked back at her with narrowed eyes. "Don't pity me. Maybe I've finally found something I'm good at."
"You are no such thing." She scooted closer, grabbing him forcibly by the shoulder to roll him onto his back. "And you cannot give up being a Grey Warden. It is in your blood."
"Yeah. Don't remind me."
Leliana sighed. "It is more than that. The Blight rages on and you have the power to stop it. Do you truly feel nothing?"
His lips twisted.
"There? You see? You know that I am right."
"What would you have me do? She was always the one who… She always just knew."
"Perhaps she did. But you will too, I think. When the time comes." Lowering her head, Leliana spotted the tiny package lying forgotten in her hand. Unfolding the wrappings, her eyes went wide. In all of the stories she had told, of the Warden, the Blight, the companions … Anders had remembered.
"What?" Alistair was watching her with a curious scowl. "What are you smiling about?"
She showed him her hand.
"Is that-?"
"No." Pulling it away, she smirked. "You will get out of this hole, Alistair Theirin. You will go down to the stream and - by all that is blessed in the Maker's sight - you will bathe yourself. Yes?"
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, considering. "And then?"
Bringing the unwrapped wedge of cheese to her nose, Leliana took a deep sniff. "And then we will speak of what comes next."