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“This must be the cave. I don’t recall seeing this before, do you?”
“No, and that worries me. We should be wary.”
“Always the careful one, Atuan. Fine, but I’m not running back until I know there’s something worth making a fuss over.”
“My being careful has saved our hides more times than you can count, Tamlen.”
“Come on, let’s at least see what’s there. How dangerous could it be?”
“See when you say things like that I just know something is bound to go wrong.”
---
“I can’t believe this. You recognize this statue, don’t you?”
“It’s worn, but it looks vaguely familiar…”
“Back when our people lived in Arlathan, statues like these honored the Creators. When the shems enslaved us, much of that lore was lost. This looks like human architecture… with a statue of our people. Can these ruins date back to the time of Arlathan?”
“Who can say? It’s like you said, much of our lore was lost.”
---
“I wonder what this writing is for? Maybe this isn’t- hey, did you see that? I think something moved inside the mirror.”
“Get away from it, Tamlen…”
“Hold on, I just want to know what it is. Don’t you see it? There it is again! Can you feel that? I think it knows we’re here. I just need to take a closer look. It’s… showing me places. I can see… some kind of city… underground?”
The mirror ripples at his touch.
“And… there’s a great blackness. It… it saw me! Help! I can’t look away!”
“Tamlen, you need to let go of it!” Atuan yells as he tries to tug Tamlen away from the mirror.
The mirror’s surface bubbles like boiling water as it lets off a blinding light. Then everything goes dark.
---
When sight comes back to him, however briefly, everything looks blurry and slow. There’s a concerned looking shemlen man. Who is he? Where is Tamlen?
“Can you hear me? I am… very sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Atuan wants to ask, but his eyes have grown heavy and everything spins away into quiet dark once more.
---
“It’s been three days, da’len. If he is as sick as you were I’m afraid that Falon’Din might have guided him through the Beyond already.”
“You don’t know for sure though! Tamlen could be out there and in need of help! I can’t give up on him, I won’t.”
Marethari sighs.
“No matter what you find out there, don’t stick it to your heart so hard. A heart is a heavy burden to bear already, don’t add onto that weight.”
---
He would be a bit embarrassed to admit it later on, but when Alistair first saw Atuan he’d thought he was an old man. Though to be fair his first glimpse of the elf had been from a distance, when he noticed the elf approaching while he had been making friends with a grumpy mage on behalf of the Revered Mother in camp.
It was mostly the elf’s white hair that had given him that impression, but the dark red face markings from afar had looked like very pronounced wrinkles. At least he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth and said something like, “Wow I thought you were incredibly old, but now that I’ve got a better look at you you’re actually very pretty.”
What was he doing again? Oh, right. Making friends with Grumpy.
“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!”
Oh there he goes. He was really starting to warm up to Grumpy.
“You know,” Alistair says, turning his attention to the elf in front of him, “one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”
The elf chuckles with a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach red-rimmed, puffy eyes.
“I know exactly what you mean.”
---
First they lose Daveth and Jory to the Joining, then Duncan and King Cailan and the entire army to the horde. Alistair thought that this must truly be the end, especially when Atuan gets hit by an arrow and goes down hard, a sickening crack as his head hits the stone floor.
Of course that was when a dragon decides to show up, roasting the impending wave of darkspawn before carefully plucking him and the unconscious elf up and flying away.
Alistair wonders which is a quicker way to die: at the hands of the darkspawn or in the clutches of a dragon? He passes out from exhaustion before he can dwell on it further.
---
He comes to crammed onto a narrow cot with Atuan. The elf looks paler than usual, red staining his white hair and the bandages wrapped around his head. Alistair’s limbs feel too heavy to move himself off of the cot, to make more room for his fellow Grey Warden who is more heavily injured than he is.
Instead he does his best to roll onto his side without jostling his new bunkmate who grunts and shifts closer before settling down again after pressing his face against Alistair’s neck, white hair tickling the underside of his jaw.
He snorts quietly at that when he notices the necklace around the elf’s neck. Lifting it gently to inspect it he sees that despite how worn it is the small wooden animal carvings still retain incredible detail.
It makes Alistair think of his mother’s necklace, makes him think about how he should’ve kept it instead of throwing it away in a fit of childish anger, but you can’t go back and change the past no matter how badly one wants to.
---
On the morning of the second day Alistair is beginning to feel despair about the situation; Atuan has yet to wake and as far as Alistair can tell they’re the only Grey Wardens to have survived Ostagar.
If Atuan does not wake up soon then Alistair will be the only one and he’s really not sure he can go after an Archdemon all by himself.
Not even an hour later Atuan comes ambling out of the hut on slightly shaky legs, but his smile is bright and the dried blood has been washed from his hair.
---
The fact that Duncan is dead finally catches up to Alistair. He grows quiet and withdrawn and it worries Atuan. They have not known each other long, not really a lot of time to get to know each other between what happened at Ostagar and the two days he spent sleeping off the worst of his injuries, but he still worries about the man because as far as Atuan is concerned they’re all each other has right now (Morrigan is with them but she keeps her distance when possible, observing them both, and Atuan isn’t sure how much he trusts her yet).
They’ve set up camp for the night, the fire blazing away as Atuan stirs the stew and Morrigan sets protection runes around the camp. He glances at Alistair across the fire; he’s got that thousand mile stare going on as he looks into the flames. The elf knows that look; he’s sure that Duncan had seen that on his face during their journey to Ostagar after their departure from his clan.
When Morrigan is done he hands her a bowl of stew and lets her retreat back into her own space without any objection. Scooping out two more bowls he moves to sit next to the other Grey Warden, holding out one of the bowls for him to take.
Alistair doesn’t make any move to take the stew that’s held out for him.
“You need to eat, lethallin,” Atuan says softly, but loud enough for the human to hear him. He doesn’t get a response but Alistair at least takes the bowl from him and eats. “We can talk about him if you would like. Not now, if you’re not ready, but when you feel that you can I’ll listen.”
He still doesn’t get a reply, but Alistair bumps their shoulders together for a moment and that’s a good enough answer for him.
---
He wakes in the middle of the night gasping for air; another dream of the horde and the Archdemon. Alistair drags himself into an upright position, wiping at the sweat that has gathered on his brow. The tent feels small, like the cloth walls will close in around him and suffocate him, he needs space, he needs air.
He’s relieved that it’s Atuan on watch (he’s wrapped up tightly in a blanket which just makes him looks ridiculous, his short unruly white hair and his feet are the only visible parts of him in the low light of the night) and not Morrigan when he emerges from his tent.
“Rough night?”
Alistair lets out a joyless huff of laughter.
“Yeah, something like that.”
The elf pats the spot next to him on the ground, beckoning for Alistair to join him. He goes without a fuss.
They sit in companionable silence for a few moments before Atuan speaks up.
“You should get some more sleep, Alistair. We’ve a long walk ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Had a… nightmare. Can never get back to sleep after I have one.”
“Shall I sing you to sleep then?” Atuan japes, easy smile on his face and amber eyes glowing like a cat’s in the dark night.
Alistair lets out a tired laugh.
“Sure, knock yourself out.”
“Elgara vallas, da'len
Melava somniar
Mala taren aravas
Ara ma'desen melar
Iras ma ghilas, da'len,
Ara ma'nedan ashir
Dirthara lothlenan'as
Bal emma mala dir
Tel'enfenim, da'len
Irassal ma ghilas
Ma garas mir renan
Ara ma'athlan vhenas
Ara ma'athlan vhenas.”
Alistair didn’t even realize that he had closed his eyes until he’s opening them at the feel of Atuan draping his blanket over the both of them. The elf smiles at the bleary eyed look the human is giving him for waking him up from his doze.
Atuan just guides Alistair’s head back to his shoulder and says, “Go back to sleep, Alistair,” and then Alistair is out like a light.
---
They don’t talk about it after the sun rises, but every time Alistair thinks about how at peace he felt he can feel his face heat up. When he catches Atuan grinning his face gets even warmer.
He almost doesn’t catch Morrigan’s mean comment due to how distracted he is by his fellow Grey Warden.
---
They tend to gravitate toward each other during the nights on their way to Lothering. Atuan has been having nightmares as well, but not the Darkspawn related kind. Not yet at least.
“I have nightmares about Tamlen,” Atuan answers, voice cracking with his eyes red rimmed and puffy like they had been when they first met, when Alistair finally works up the nerve to ask him. That leads to Atuan talking about how Tamlen and he were practically brothers, living in each other’s pockets most of their lives right up until they didn’t. He tells Alistair about the ruins, about the mirror. About losing one of the three people he truly considered family.
Atuan also tells him how losing Tamlen had finally made Ashalle reveal what happened to his parents. How his father had been killed by bandits and that his mother only hung on long enough to have him before disappearing into the wilderness due to heartache. How the carved wooden necklace he wears alongside the one Alistair had given him after the Joining is the only thing he has left of his parents.
Without even really thinking about it he wraps an arm around the elf, resting his head on top of the other’s. He feels honored that Atuan seems to trust and like him enough to tell him about Tamlen so he in turn tells the elf about Duncan. It’s difficult to speak of Duncan, his death still fresh in Alistair’s heart, but it couldn’t have been easy for Atuan to speak of Tamlen either, so he pushes past the way his throat tightens with emotion. Alistair never states it explicitly, but Atuan is good at reading in between the lines, can see that Duncan was family to Alistair.
“I’d… like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of."
“He had you.”
“I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him.”
“No, Alistair, it’s not stupid. I understand completely.”
They share a sad smile.
“Of course I’d be dead, then, wouldn’t I? It’s not like that would make him happier,” Alistair says as a thought strikes him. “The Dalish don’t practice cremation, do they? How do your people honor your dead?”
“We bury them and plant a tree over their remains. The Emerald Graves for example; it’s a very beautiful place, but it’s also the final resting place of the Emerald Knights. Unfortunately, Orlesian nobles have built their vast estates on top of our dead.”
“That actually sounds really nice. The planting the trees thing, not the building houses on graves thing. Having life come from death. Very poetic. I think Duncan came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I’ll go up out there sometime, see about putting up something in his honor. I don’t know,” Alistair trails off, gaze lost in the dwindling flames of the campfire.
“Maybe I'll go to Highever with you, when you go,” Atuan says softly, leaning into Alistair’s side.
“I’d like that. So would he, I think. Thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little.”
---
They were only a couple hours outside of Lothering when the dog Atuan had helped back in Ostagar comes running round the bend, barking all the way. Not long after it are Darkspawn which are defeated easily enough.
“He seems to have taken a liking to you. What will you name him?”
As soon as he sees the grin spreading on Atuan’s face Alistair can tell what’s about to come. Morrigan can too if the way she groans is any indication.
“Barkspawn.”
---
They leave Lothering with two new companions, Sten and Leliana. Atuan and Sten regard one another with blatant curiosity and puzzlement, but Atuan and Leliana bond over trading tales. Alistair never realized how little Atuan knew about humans in general (then again it’s not like Alistair knew a lot about the Dalish either) from the questions he’d constantly ask during one of Leliana’s stories.
Leliana would also share songs, but that was one thing Atuan never seemed to do in front of anyone except for Alistair and well, if that made him feel a little bit smug no one had to know but himself.
---
The Circle of Magi was their first stop in their task of recruiting allies. Of course there was something wrong in the tower; it was beginning to look like everything was going wrong since Ostagar. Atuan had heard stories of abominations and of demons, but never once thought that in his life he’d come face to face with one let alone an entire tower infested with them.
The sloth demon terrifies him. He can feel his heart beating rapidly in fear but he must stand against it if they are to save the tower before it is too late.
"Can't... keep eyes open. Someone... pinch... me.”
"Resist. You must resist, else we are all lost."
Atuan can hear Alistair, Wynne, and Barkspawn all slumping to the floor. He follows not long after them.
---
He feels drunk and happy and he can’t remember the last time he felt like this. Drunk on happiness! He’s finally with his sister, Goldanna, and her family and isn’t that just fantastic? They’re just one big happy family! But something, no someone, is missing. Who could it be?
Oh, right! Atuan. Atuan isn’t here. Where’d he go? Alistair really wants him to meet his sister. He misses the elf, he is one of Alistair’s only friends and wow that really sounds pathetic, but he felt happy around Atuan and he thinks that maybe he felt the same way too and… who’s that?
He recognizes the white hair and the red face tattoos and he can feel his heart swell and constrict at the same time as a dopey grin grows on his face.
“Hey! It’s great to see you again. I was just thinking about you… isn’t that a marvelous coincidence? This is my sister Goldanna. These are her children and there are more about somewhere. We’re one big happy family, at long last!”
Atuan looks hesitant and a little knot forms when his brow furrows. It’s adorable really and he just wants to smooth it out but that might not be appropriate right now.
“You seem very… content.”
“I am. I’m happier than I’ve been my entire life. Isn’t that strange? I thought being a Grey Warden would make me happy, but it didn’t. This does.”
“I’m overjoyed to have my little brother back,” Goldanna says, “I’ll never let him out of my sight again!”
“May I borrow him for a second? We have business elsewhere.”
Alistair can feel his heart drop a bit. Doesn’t Atuan want to stay here with him? He knows that this can never really replace the family that he’s lost, but Alistair thought that maybe they could be family or something close enough to it. Maybe more.
“I… don’t think I’ll be coming. I don’t want to spend my life fighting, only to end up dead in a pit along with rotting darkspawn corpses.”
“Well, Alistair, is your friend staying for supper?”
That’s a good idea! If he stays and sees how happy they can be here then maybe he’ll stay for good.
“Say you’ll stay. Goldanna is a great cook. Maybe she’ll make her mince pie. You can, can’t you?”
“Of course, dear brother. Anything for you.”
Atuan looks pained and no, that isn’t what Alistair intended at all and now he’s feeling a little bit distressed because he doesn’t know how to make it better. What if he –
“I can’t stay and you shouldn’t either, Alistair.”
Well that’s… that’s definitely not what he was expecting.
“What do you mean? You’re acting really strangely.”
Atuan places his hands on Alistair’s shoulders, the warmth from those hands seep into his skin all the way down to his bones, and beautiful amber eyes stare intently at him and oh… there goes Alistair’s train of thought.
“Think about this and how you got here. Think carefully.”
“All right, if it makes you happy. I… it’s a little fuzzy,” Alistair says, face scrunching in confusion, “that’s strange…”
“Alistair, come and have some tea.”
Goldanna’s voice sounds strained and he tries to turn his head to look at her but Atuan moves a hand from his shoulder and places it on his cheek, keeping his gaze on the elf. Fuzzy memories float to the surface the longer he focuses on Atuan.
“No… wait… I remember a… tower. The Circle… it was under attack… there were demons. That’s all I remember.”
“That’s because that’s all that happened.”
Alistair can feel his heart sink like a stone at his words.
“A-are you saying… this is a – a dream? But it’s so real…”
He searches Atuan’s face for any sort of sign that he’s lying but he finds none.
“Of course it’s real! Now wash up before supper and I –”
Alistair covers Atuan’s hand with his and that grounds him, how solid and real the elf feels compared to anything else here, lets him see through the constant drunken haze of happiness that he hadn’t realized felt grimy in a way.
“Something doesn’t feel quite right here. I… I think I need to go.”
Atuan finally smiles at him.
“Come with me then.”
Blame it on the fog in his mind but he’d gladly follow Atuan anywhere. Even to the Deep Roads.
“No! He’s ours, and I’d rather see him dead than free!”
---
After they’ve fought off the fake sister and children Atuan can see how troubled Alistair looks.
“I can’t believe it. How did I not see this earlier?”
“You’re in the Fade, which isn’t like the real world,” Atuan says as he stands next to Alistair, bumping their shoulders together.
“Yes… uh, well. Try not to tell everyone how easily fooled I was.”
“I make no promises,” he replies with laughter tinging his voice.
A strange sort of multicolored light begins to engulf Alistair.
“Are we going now? Wait, where are you going? What’s happening to me? Hey!”
Ah there he goes, off to wherever it is that Wynne went after her nightmare ended. Wynne had been much more difficult to convince. Atuan tries to smother the smile threatening to make its way onto his face. He feels… he doesn’t know how to describe it, the fact that Alistair trusted him, didn’t try to fight him about realizing that this was a dream, makes him feel like he’s in a cloud if that makes any sense.
He’d try to figure out what it is specifically that’s making his heart feel all fluttery though he’s pretty sure he knows what it is, but there are more pressing issues at hand so he’ll have to save this for later.
---
“Ah, good of you to join me, Alistair,” Wynne says from where she’s floating next to him.
Wherever it is they are in the Fade now is strange and not something Alistair ever wants to experience again; they’re in a place, a twilight of some sort, halfway between the earth and the sky, sun setting or rising on the horizon. It looks like they’re falling indefinitely, especially with the way a nonexistent wind whips their hair and they’re not standing on anything solid.
If this is what dragons see every time they fly then Alistair is very glad he was born human instead because this is so unnatural for him.
It’s not too much later when Barkspawn finally joins them, but unlike him the mabari seems to enjoy this not-falling and the wind, which, hey good for him, but Alistair would prefer not to be here any longer.
Not much longer after the arrival of Barkspawn do they finally leave the weird in between twilight space and find Atuan again, this time with the sloth demon.
---
It’s another sleepless night at camp for Alistair, but since Atuan isn’t on watch this time he ends up sneaking into the elf’s tent. Atuan is already awake, can’t seem to sleep either, so they just lay there in the dark, the quiet comfortable and each other’s presence soothing. The silence doesn’t last long though, as they begin to speak to each other in hushed whispers, trying to not rouse the entire camp.
Alistair tells Atuan about how Arl Eamon raised him until his wife had insisted that he be sent away (even though Alistair had been vague, glossed over the details, about how the Arlessa had treated him Atuan seemed to see right through it and understood how cruel she had been). He told him about his mother’s necklace, how he threw it away because of how betrayed he had felt. How he regrets doing that.
It leads to him talking about his time with the Chantry, learning to become a Templar.
“I never really felt at home anywhere, though, until I joined the Grey Wardens. And Duncan felt my Templar abilities might be useful for when we encountered darkspawn magic, so I kept it up. What about you? Do you have anywhere you consider home?”
He can hear Atuan shifting around in his nest of blankets, can see his glowing eyes looking at him, before he answers.
“I guess my home is with the Grey Wardens now. With you,” Atuan says, voice soft, and Alistair can feel warmth settle pleasantly in his chest.
“Really? I… I guess I like the sound of that.”
---
They wake curled close together, Alistair having ended up tangled in Atuan’s blanket nest with him. He knows he shouldn’t dwell on how much he likes the way Atuan smiles sleepily at him, rumpled with sleep, in the early morning light, but he does. Can’t help thinking how he could really get used to waking up to this every morning and very much hoping that he can, that he will, and –
He feels all thoughts stop dead in their tracks when Atuan leans over and kisses his cheek.
---
They end up sleeping in the same tent together during the trip to Redcliffe even though they set up both of their own. They don’t really do anything further than sleeping in the same space and kissing the other’s cheek, but he knows he’s got a dopey grin on his face due to how the others tease (mock in Morrigan’s case) him about it (except for Sten because he’s, well… Sten). At least they’re also teasing Atuan about it too, seeing how his face and the tips of his ears flush brightly and he’s also got a grin on his face too.
Dread settles heavy in the pit of Alistair’s stomach though, the closer they get to Redcliffe. It means he’ll have to come clean about whose bastard he is to Atuan and he rather likes the way Atuan doesn’t treat him differently like some did.
Alistair hopes that that won’t change once the elf knows.
---
“Look, can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in? The reason he did that was because… well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my… half-brother, I suppose.”
“So… you’re not just a bastard, but a royal bastard?”
“Ha! Yes, I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often,” Alistair says jokingly but he can feel his fingers twitch in nervousness, then sighs, suddenly feeling drained. “I would have told you, but… it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan’s rule and so they kept me secret. I’ve never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me... even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know, as long as possible. I'm sorry.”
The silence is deafening, stretching on for long moments, before Atuan finally, finally, says something.
“I think I understand.”
Alistair sighs in relief, a heavy weight finally lifting off his shoulders.
“Good. I’m glad. It’s not like I got special treatment for it anyhow. At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it.”
“Are you sure? You’re not hiding anything else?” Atuan asks with a lopsided grin and amusement in his voice. Alistair finds himself grinning back.
“Besides my unholy love of fine cheeses and a minor obsession with my hair, no. That’s it. Just the prince thing.”
“So I should be calling you Prince Alistair?”
“No! Maker’s breath, just hearing that gives me a heart attack! It’s not true anyhow… I’m the son of a commoner. It was always made clear that the throne is not in my future. And that’s fine by me. No, if there’s an heir to be found, it’s Arl Eamon himself. He’s not of royal blood, but he is Cailan’s uncle… and more importantly, very popular with the people. So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I’ll pretend you still think I'm some... nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.”
“You’re here with me. I think I’m the lucky one.”
That right there leaves Alistair tongue tied and with the way his heart twists he knows that he can’t even try to lie to himself about this. Not like he had been trying to in the first place, but there’s no doubt about it now.
---
They end up going in through the windmill’s secret passage with Atuan and Leliana scouting the way ahead for any traps, which leaves Alistair and Wynne to trail along behind them. He can feel Wynne staring at him and when he looks at her he doesn’t like the look on her face.
“Why are you smiling like that? You look suspiciously like the cat who swallowed the pigeon.”
“Canary,” Wynne corrects.
“What?”
“I look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”
“I once had a very large cat, but that's not my point. My point is why are you smirking?”
Wynne chuckles at him and Alister groans quietly at whatever it is she’s about to say.
“You were watching him. With great interest, I might add. In fact, I believe you were... enraptured.”
“He's our leader. I look to him for guidance.”
“Oh, I see. So what guidance did you find in those hips hmm?”
He can feel his face heat up and he’s so flustered that he stumbles over his words.
“No no, I wasn't looking at... you know his... hind-quarters.”
“Certainly.”
“I gazed... glanced, in that direction, maybe, but I wasn't staring... or really seeing anything even.”
“Of course,” she says with a knowing smile.
He groans loud enough to catch Atuan’s attention and when the elf looks back at them Alistair ducks his head and glares at Wynne who is laughing silently next to him.
“I hate you. You're a bad person.”
---
They end up having to go back to the Circle to get help for Connor. Atuan can tell that Alistair is relieved that he didn’t let Jowan and Isolde go through with the blood ritual. He knows that Alistair is curious about his choice, considering how Atuan wasn’t subtle with his distaste for the Arlessa.
“I don’t care for the way she treated you in the past nor for the way she continues to do so, but no one deserves to die that way, no matter how terrible of a person they are.”
“Well I wouldn’t say she was terrible…”
“Alistair, she took her insecurities out on you when you were a child. She bullied you because she knew she could get away with it. Calling her terrible is the most polite thing I can say about her.”
Alistair says nothing to that, but the way he squeezes Atuan’s wrist gently lets the elf know that he appreciates it. It also makes Atuan realize that maybe Alistair has never really had anyone on his side about this before and that… that makes his chest twist painfully.
---
They manage to save Connor – well, Wynne does since she was the only one they could send into the Fade – but the boy is withdrawn and silent. It’s understandable, he’d been possessed by a demon for weeks. The fact that he hasn’t been driven half mad because of it is in itself a miracle.
The only problem now is the Arl; he has yet to wake.
The Arlessa insists that Andraste’s ashes will save her husband, but Atuan doubts that ashes even exist; she’s sent all of Redcliffe’s knights on a wild goose chase and gotten at least one of them killed for it. But the ashes are their only option at this point; nothing else has worked.
The only clue they have is that someone called Brother Genitivi in Denerim knows the location of the urn.
---
Their first kiss – actual kiss, not one on the cheek – happens when Alistair gives Atuan a rose he’s had since Lothering.
Atuan has just finished his shift on watch and retired to Alistair’s tent to see the human looking at a rose that he held in his hands. When he joins him in the pile of blankets Alistair holds out the rose for him to take.
“Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?”
“Your new weapon of choice?”
“Yes, that’s right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent,” Alistair japes while Atuan laughs at how ridiculous he’s being. “Or you know, it could just be a rose. I know that’s pretty dull in comparison.”
“Sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon.”
“Is it that easy to see right through me? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, ‘how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?’ I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn’t,” Alistair says, taking hold of one of Atuan’s wrists, rubbing his thumb against the thin skin there. “The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I’ve had it ever since. I thought that I might… give it you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you.”
“You think of me as a gentle flower?”
The human bites his lip, trying to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t work very well.
“A gentle flower? No, I… don’t know if I’d put it that way. I guess it’s a bit silly, isn’t it? I just thought… here I am doing all this complaining and you haven’t exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You’ve had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It’s been all death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness.”
Atuan cups his face and leans in and kisses him. It’s chaste but something unfurls in both of their chests and when they pull apart they remain close, resting their foreheads against each other.
“Thank you. I feel the same way about you, Alistair.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he says with mischievous quirk of his lips, “Now… if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I’d appreciate it.”
“No time like the present, then,” Atuan says, pressing his smile against the other’s lips in another kiss.
---
“I do wonder. Is it permissible for two Grey Wardens to... oh, what is the word I search for?”
Alistair looks at Morrigan before focusing back on the rocky path they’re going down. They’ve been keeping off the main road the closer they get to Denerim, to avoid being seen by bounty hunters.
“Caboodle?” Alistair offers, trying not to stumble and slide on some loose rocks.
“Fraternize,” Morrigan settles on.
“What's wrong with fraternizing?”
“It seems most undisciplined, for an organization that claims it will do whatever is necessary to end the darkspawn threat.”
“One thing has nothing to do with the other,” he says and gives her flat look.
“Oh no? And what if a Grey Warden is forced to choose between the Warden he loved and ending the Blight? What should his choice be?”
He stumbles in his step this time but quickly rights himself, throwing a glare over his shoulder when he hears Morrigan laughing at him.
“That is a... a ridiculous question.”
“And I have my answer. Most kind of you.”
Just as he’s about to say something in return to her smugness, Barkspawn decides to come bounding down the rocky slope behind them, sliding into everyone’s legs, knocking everyone ass over tea kettle and sliding down the hill.
---
They’re about a day’s walk from Denerim, Alistair and Atuan walking ahead of everyone else, when Alistair decides to bring up visiting his sister.
“We’ll be in Denerim by tomorrow, and I know that we won’t have a lot of time there, but I was wondering that when we get there if we might be able to… look someone up.”
“Loghain will get what’s coming to him, I promise you.”
“Well that’s a bit of a relief to hear but no, that’s not who I’m talking about. The thing is I have a sister. A half-sister. I told you about my mother, right? She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle, and she had a daughter… Only I never knew about her. I don’t think she knew about me either. They kept my birth a secret, after all. But after I became a Grey Warden I did some checking and… Well, I found out she’s still alive. In Denerim.”
“That’s wonderful news. Have you contacted her?”
“No. I thought about writing her, but I never did. And then we were called down to Ostagar and I never got the chance. She’s the only family I have left not also mixed up in the whole royal thing. I’ve just been thinking that… Maybe it’s time I went to see her. With the Blight coming and everything, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to see her. Maybe I can help her, warn her about the danger, I don't know.”
“If you want to, we could try.”
“Could we? I’d appreciate that. If something happened to her and I never went to at least see her, I don’t know if I could forgive myself.”
---
“Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don’t know what to expect. I’d like you to be there with me, if you’re willing. Or we could leave, I suppose. We really don’t have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go.”
“Alistair, it’ll be fine, I’ll go with you.”
“Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange… ‘sister.’ ‘Siiiiiiiiiiiissssster.’”
Atuan places his hands on Alistair’s cheeks, pulling his face close enough to kiss him, silencing him.
“You’re babbling, ma vhenan.”
Alistair lets out a long breath and lightly knocks their foreheads together, small smile tugging at his mouth.
“You’re right, I’m babbling. Let’s go, meet her before I end up running for the hills.”
----
Goldanna scoffs at him.
“For all the good it does me! You killed mother, you did, and I’ve had to scrape by all this time? That coin didn’t last long, and when I went back they ran me off!”
Atuan bristles at Goldanna’s abrasive attitude.
“That’s hardly Alistair’s fault, is it?”
She turns, sneering at him this time.
“And who in the Maker’s name are you? Some elf to follow him about and carry his riches for him?”
“Hey! Don’t speak to him that way! He’s my… friend, and a Grey Warden. Just like me.”
“Ooohhh, I see. A prince and a Grey Warden, too. Well, who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me? I don’t know you, boy. Your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I got to show for it? Nothing. They tricked me good! I should have told everyone! I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you.”
“I… I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what to say…”
“You've got some nerve talking to your brother like this,” Atuan says, his voice hard. He can see that she only wants money and that whether or not Alistair does give her money her opinion of him will not change.
“That so? Well he isn’t any brother I didn’t have before he walked through that door. Unless he can make himself useful, he can just walk right back out of it, can’t he?”
“It looks like all she wants is your money.”
“Yes, it really seems that way, doesn’t it? I wasn’t expecting my sister to be so… I’m starting to wonder why I came.”
“I don’t know why you came either, or what you expected to find,” Goldanna all but yells at him. “But it isn’t here! Now get out of my house, the both of you!”
“Let’s leave. Now,” Atuan says as he pulls Alistair through the front door and out of the house.
---
They wander through the markets of Denerim, keeping to alleyways when they can, just walking. Atuan can see how the encounter with Goldanna is weighing on Alistair, can see him trying to work through it in his mind. Marethari’s words come back to his mind now as he reaches for one of Alistair’s hands, tangling their fingers together.
“What she said, don’t stick it to your heart so hard. A heart is heavy enough burden to bear already, don’t add weight it doesn’t need. If Goldanna can’t see your value as a person, for you being you, then she doesn’t deserve to know you.”
He can feel Alistair squeeze his hand so he squeezes back.
---
They decide to secure help from the elves before continuing onto the Ashes location. Two things happen before they reach the Brecilian Forest.
The first thing, which is incredibly sappy according to Leliana, is that Atuan has taken to wearing Alistiar’s shirts instead of his own (he absolutely loves it if he’s being honest). Alistair probably wouldn’t have even noticed except for the fact that they hang loose on Atuan’s smaller frame, not that Alistair minds but his mouth goes dry and he loses his train of thought at the sight until Wynne and Leliana’s laughter pull him back to the present.
The second thing is that an Antivan Crow – Zevran – joins them after he tried to kill them and Atuan spared his life and let him into their group, no questions asked. Which kind of irritates Alistair because the man is literally an assassin who attempted to murder them both and also because of how much Zevran touches and flirts with Atuan who (thankfully) doesn’t reciprocate, only gives the other elf a companionable clap on the shoulder.
Alistair glares at Zevran when he looks at him over Atuan’s shoulder and winks at him. Winks!
---
“You do know that Atuan isn’t interested in your advances, right?” Leliana asks later around the fire.
Zevran grins.
“Of course I do. Not to say that I am not a little bit disappointed about that, but it’s just so much fun to rile up Alistair. He gets jealous so easily.”
Leliana’s laughter carries throughout the entire camp.
---
They’re lounging in their tent (yes, their. They’ve stopped putting up two tents since they end up only using one), Atuan mending some socks that have worn through in the heels or in the toes and Alistair laying on his side, one arm pillowed under his head while the other is thrown over Atuan’s waist, rubbing circles on his hip with calloused fingers.
“Atuan?”
“Hmm?”
“So… is the clan we’re going to meet yours?”
“No, my clan went North months ago. I’m actually surprised that there’s any Dalish clans still here.”
“Ah, so I don’t need to worry about meeting your family yet then?”
Atuan chuckles, setting aside the socks and thread, running his fingers through Alistair’s hair instead.
“Not yet, ma vhenan. Hopefully when the Blight ends they’ll return. I’ll introduce you then.”
Alistair rolls so that he’s settled between Atuan’s thighs, face pressed against his lower abdomen.
“Well that’s one less thing to worry about for now.”
A smile tugs at the corners of Atuan’s lips. “Oh? Why’s that?”
Alistair matches his smile and moves away enough to lean Atuan back into the pile of blankets that makes up their bed. Atuan’s hands move to Alistair’s ribs when he rests his forearms on either side of Atuan’s head, pressing kisses along the column of his neck.
“Because I’d prefer to avoid any embarrassing questions from your family about why you’re walking funny tomorrow. Now we’ll just have to deal with them from strangers.”
---
Zathrian and his clan apparently would have left the forest by now but were unable due to a werewolf problem. Atuan had never heard of there being a werewolf problem within the Brecilian Forest before, but then again his clan had never gone into this particular area, which was also infested with sylvans.
Despite the dangers of this place, Atuan took comfort in being here again, being able to feel at peace once more.
---
Once they learned the truth behind the werewolves curse Atuan bristled with anger. How dare Zathrian try to use him and his friends to destroy these people who had nothing to do with those who committed the crimes of centuries past? How dare he try to make him cut out the Lady’s heart when all of this could end if he just lifted the damn curse?
---
“Zathrian, you will lift the curse, even if I have to force you.”
“Then you die with them! All of you will suffer as you deserve!”
---
In the end Zathrian does lift the curse, finally allowing the Lady and himself to move on. The werewolves and his people are cured, and the forest is at peace for the moment.
---
With help from the Dalish secured they could finally move onto the Frostback Mountains to look for the ashes and hopefully get help from Orzammar.
---
There was so much snow, like a white blanket covering the mountains, much more than he thinks he’s ever seen at once. Sure during the winters in Redcliffe they got a lot of snow, but never as much as this. Alistair actually lost sight of Atuan a couple of times because of how well the elf blended into the snow (he wasn’t the only one, Wynne and Leliana also had difficulty following Atuan).
“If you’re not careful and fall into a snow drift then we really will have trouble finding you.”
The elf swatted at his shoulder with a smile and continued leading them to the unmarked village of Haven.
---
They stop off in Honnleath, kill darkspawn, save a girl from being possessed by a desire demon, and recruit Shale. The golem is a strange one, though it’s not like any of them have any basis for comparison. Shale doesn’t seem to like any of them save for Atuan, Sten, Leliana, and Wynne and seems to tolerate Zevran at best.
At the very least, as far as Alistair is concerned, Shale is better company compared to Morrigan.
---
Making their way through the temple is bloody work, multitudes of cultists seemingly coming from nowhere and a high dragon at the end of all of that seems a little much. However they make it through all right and into the final resting place of Andraste’s ashes, a place called the Gauntlet.
The first test isn’t so bad, riddles that are easily solved and Alistair is beginning to think that this will be a cake walk until they enter the next room to find a Dalish elf waiting for them. He and the others can see how rigid Atuan has become at the sight of this person, and Alistair can feel a weight in his stomach when Atuan finally speaks, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Tamlen?”
---
Atuan was quiet for most of the journey back to Redcliffe with the small vial of ashes. Having seen the ghost of Tamlen or whatever it was seemed to have really messed with his head. Alistair had no idea what to do – none of the others do either – he’s not really certain how he himself would have reacted if he had been the one to see a dead loved one. He does what he can though, which is to keep close to Atuan since he doesn’t seem to want to be alone.
When the group makes it back to Redcliffe castle though, after Isolde and Teagan have been given the ashes and rush off to administer it to Eamon, Atuan has wandered off somewhere. Which is fine, he probably just wants some space to work through what happened and Alistair won’t begrudge him that.
Instead he takes this chance to just wander the halls of the castle, something he hasn’t done since he was very small. It’s strange to walk through vast halls and rooms now, the furniture and tapestries are the same but they all looked like they belonged to giants when he was a child compared to now. Not only that but he feels peaceful and calm while wandering which he hasn’t for many years; not since the Arl married Isolde.
No, when Isolde became the Arlessa she had made sure that Alistair never felt safe or welcomed within these walls again.
He doesn’t hold a grudge against her even though everyone told her multiple times that Alistair was in fact not Eamon’s son and also the glaringly obvious fact that he and Eamon don’t share any resemblance whatsoever. She had let her insecurities and jealousy blind her, even to this day, but Alistair is no longer that child who tried to keep out of her sight as much as possible; she no longer has any authority over him, not since he became a Grey Warden.
And wasn’t that a huge relief about joining the Wardens. Since all titles were forfeit when joining the Wardens technically operated outside of society’s nobility structure, only really having to answer to royalty when the situation called for it which is rare outside of a Blight.
Eventually Alistair makes his way to one of the towers, climbing the spiral staircase until he reaches the top and crawling through the hatch onto the tower’s flat roof. The sky has long since gone dark, the moons and stars shining bright against the vast black of the night. Kicking off his boots, he leans back against the roof’s half wall, watching the stars.
Not too long after that Atuan finds him, the sound of bare feet on stone alerts Alistair to his presence.
The warmth that radiates off of Atuan as he sits down next to Alistair is comfortable and he takes notice of the chill in the air that he hadn’t before. They sit in silence for a long time until Atuan gently nudges Alistair’s arm with a closed fist that he opens when he has his attention, revealing an old cracked amulet. A very specific old cracked amulet.
“This… This is my mother’s amulet. It has to be,” Alistair says, voice soft and barely above a whisper as he carefully takes it from Atuan. “But why isn’t it broken? Where did you find it?”
“I found it in the study,” Atuan replies, just as quietly as he leans into Alistair’s side, cheek resting on his shoulder.
“The Arl’s study? Then he must have… found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired and kept it? I don’t understand, why would he do that?” He wonders aloud as he holds it up by the cord, letting the moonlight illuminate it.
“Perhaps you mean more to him than you think.”
“I… guess you could be right. We never really talked that much, and then the way I left…” his voice trails off as he turns his head to meet Atuan’s gaze, “Thank you. I mean it. I thought I’d lost this to my own stupidity. I’ll need to talk to him about this. If he recovers from his… when he recovers, that is. I wish I’d had this a long time ago.”
They lapse into silence for a moment before a thought strikes Alistair.
“Did you remember me mentioning it? Wow. I’m more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.”
He can feel his heart fluttering in his chest as he watches Atuan’s mouth curl into a small smile.
“Of course I remembered, ma vhenan, you’re important to me.”
Resting his forehead against the elf’s temple he returns the smile.
“Thank you.”
---
The ashes do end up working and the Arl recovers, although it does take until sunset the next day for him to wake. Not too long after that though Alistair and Atuan are requested to speak with the Arl in the grand hall. Teagan and Isolde stand to either side of him and Barkspawn trails after the Grey Wardens when they enter.
“Well now that we’re all here could someone please tell me what has happened?” Eamon asks with a weary look on his face. The ashes may have returned the Arl to good health but the man had been bed ridden until mere hours ago, he should still be in bed, or at least in his room.
Well, it is what it is. Atuan explains to the Arl about what has happened to Fereldan during his time being ill. About what Loghain did at Ostagar.
“This is most troubling,” Arl Eamon says when he finally looks away from the roaring flames of the fireplace. “There is much to be done, that is true, but I should first be thankful to those who have done so much. Grey Warden, I thank you for saving my family, for saving my son. I am in your debt. Will you permit me to reward you for your service?”
“I need your help against the Blight. That will do.”
“I understand, but regardless of your motivations I feel you are worthy of a reward. I would like to honor your efforts, nothing more.”
Atuan would rather he not make a big deal out of it, but if he’s learned anything from Leliana’s stories about nobles it’s best to just go along with it.
“As you wish, then.”
“Then allow me to declare you, and those traveling with you, champions of Redcliffe. You will always be welcome guests within these halls. And for you, Warden, a shield of the make as those who have been given to our finest knights,” Arl Eamon says as he motions to Teagan, who in turn hands Atuan a shield which looks comically too large for him – or any elf really – to carry.
“We should speak of Loghain, brother,” Teagan says once he returns to the Arl’s side. “There is no telling what he’ll do once he learns of your recovery.”
Eamon’s lip curls in disgust at the mention of the Teryn’s name.
“Loghain instigates a civil war even though the Darkspawn are on our very doorstep. Long I have known him; he was a sensible man, one who never desired power.”
“I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon. He is mad with ambition I tell you.”
“Mad indeed. Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands. Whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped. What’s more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to its bitter end.”
“What are you proposing then?” Atuan asks. He knows the Arl is right; they can’t focus on two wars at once, not when fighting one means Ferelden will be divided. That could cost them greatly against the Blight. Allowing Loghain to rule, however, is not something Atuan will allow, not when the man left them all to die on the battlefield.
“We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the Darkspawn.”
“I will not surrender to a man who left us all for dead so he could play at being a tyrant,” Atuan grits out. If the Arl even thinks for a moment that he will, human politics be damned, he’ll kill Loghain himself, with or without the Arl’s help.
Arl Eamon seems to recognize the anger slowly bubbling up in Atuan.
“I agree. Loghain will pay for his heinous crimes,” Eamon assures in a placating tone, “but our armies must be reserved for the Darkspawn, not for each other. I will spread word of Loghain’s treachery, both here and against the King, but it will be but a claim made without proof. Those claims will give Loghain’s allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain’s daughter, the Queen.”
Atuan is confused as to who the Arl is referring to, until he feels Alistair begin to tense up next to him. Then it dawns on him. Teagan seems to come to the same conclusion.
“Are you referring to Alistair, brother? Are you certain?”
“I would not propose such a thing if we had an alternative, but the unthinkable has occurred.”
“You intend to put Alistair forth as King?” Atuan isn’t sure if completely supports this idea, but if there really is no other way then…
“Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain. Alistair’s claim is by blood.”
Alistair, who had been quiet through most of this exchange, ever since they entered the room, finally speaks up.
“And what about me? Does anyone care what I want?”
“You have a responsibility, Alistair. Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?”
Manipulation. Of course the man is going to try to manipulate Alistair into this. Atuan narrows his eyes at the Arl.
“I– But… No, my lord,” Alistair says, though Atuan can tell that he’s not happy about any of this.
“I see only one way to proceed. I will call for a Landsmeet in Denerim. There Ferelden can decide who will rule, one way or another. Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin. What say you to that, my friend? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing.”
Atuan’s mouth tastes of ash and he hates that he’s about to agree to this, but he needs to, for now. He will not force Alistair to become King if he truly does not wish to be. At the very least, this will get them close enough to Loghain to get justice for those who fell at Ostagar and time to come up with a better plan if need be.
“If it is the best plan we have at the moment, then yes, let’s proceed with it.”
Alistair inhales sharply, and Atuan can feel his eyes on him.
“Very well. I will send out the word. But before we proceed I believe there is a matter of the mage, my son’s tutor. He still lives I understand.”
Soon enough Jowan is brought before them all. Atuan hasn’t been paying attention at all to what is being said. He glances at Alistair from the corner of his eye and he can feel a heavy weight settle in the pit of his stomach. Alistair looks… upset, to put it lightly.
“Grey Warden, have you anything to say on Jowan’s behalf?”
Atuan barely catches himself from visibly startling, but not by much.
“He seems earnest in his desire to repent.”
“Well said. You perhaps show more optimism than I would. And what would you have me do? As the injured party my ability to see the merciful path is strained.”
“Give him to the Circle of Magi. His peers should be the ones to judge him.”
“Very well. Jowan. I hereby turn you over to the tower of the Circle of the Magi. May the Maker have mercy on your soul.”
Jowan bows with a quiet “Thank you, my lord” before he is escorted out again by guards.
“Now, back to the matter of the Landsmeet. We should head to Denerim as soon as possible, though I can delay that if you have other plans you need to attend to first, though I would prefer not to give Loghain time to consider, but it is up to you. I do not wish to go to Denerim unless you are with me.”
“We still need to gain help from Orzammar, but hopefully that won’t take too long. We’ll leave at first light.”
“As you say. Good luck on your journey, Warden.”
Once the Arl, his wife, and Teagan turn to leave, Atuan finally turns to Alistair, only to see him already half way to the door.
---
“Alistair, wai–”
“No.”
“Alistair.”
“No.”
Atuan is slightly struggling to keep up with Alistair’s fast pace and long stride as he storms down the hallway. Getting fed up with this strange game of chase he grabs hold of Alistair’s arm, which makes him stop. Anger and distress seem to be rolling off of Alistair in waves.
“Will you please let me explain myself?”
“Why should I? I trusted you to have my back, you know I don’t want to be King, and yet you agreed to it anyway.”
There’s a certain kind of coldness in his gaze, a hint of hurt and betrayal, and Atuan can feel his heart twist in pain. He did that, he hurt Alistair; he hurt the man he loves. He can feel his throat tighten with emotion.
“I…”
“You know what? I don’t want to hear it.”
Alistair yanks his arm from Atuan’s grasp and turns on his heel, walking away from him.
Atuan can feel his heart breaking and filling with despair with each step Alistair takes.
---
Of all the people to come find him out in the training yard, he wasn’t expecting it to be Morrigan.
“Ah, ‘tis true then.”
“What is?” He grunts as he lands another blow on the training dummy.
“You are angry with Atuan. With how close and disgustingly enamored you are with each other I did not think it possible for either of you to be upset with the other. That and I did not think you capable of perhaps more than two emotions. Though the world is filled with surprises.”
“Shove off, Morrigan.”
“What, no idiotic japes and jests?”
“Look, did you have something to say or did you only come out here to mock me?”
“Why can’t it be both? I overheard what was said and I think you’re being a fool about this.”
“Well that’s not anything new to me; you always think I’m a fool.”
“Because you are, but you’re the fool Atuan would do anything for, though his reason for that is not something I ever want to understand. My point being that did you even stop to consider that he may have had a reason for agreeing to the Arl’s plan? And even if he doesn't this is something foolish to be angry about, nothing is yet set in stone.”
She’s met with silence. Sighing, Morrigan continues.
“Of course, you don’t think, that was my mistake. Go talk to him.”
And with that she leaves and Alistair is left alone in the training yard once more.
---
The halls are dark by the time Alistair makes his way to the room he and Atuan have been sharing, guided only by light of the moons and stars. He’s been thinking about Morrigan said to him in the yard; he really hadn’t considered that Atuan had a reason for accepting Eamon’s plan. Even if he doesn’t, Alistair should apologize for lashing out at him like that. The one he should be angry at is the Arl, not Atuan.
He just hopes Atuan is in their room.
Carefully opening the door reveals Atuan curled up under the blankets of the bed, back facing the door. Alistair takes his boots off on his way over to the bed, sitting down on it once he reaches it. When he places a hand on Atuan’s bare shoulder one of the elf’s hands comes up to rest atop it, squeezing his fingers gently.
“I’m sorry for what happened earlier. For hurting you,” Atuan whispers. “I only agreed to it because it will hopefully give us time to come up with a better plan and also get us close enough to Loghain. I will not force you to be King and I won’t let anyone else force you to if you truly do not want to be.”
Alistair swallows down the lump in his throat; he’s still not used to people apologizing to him for anything.
“Thank you. I forgive you, you know? And I’m sorry too.”
“For what?”
“For lashing out at you, not letting you explain.”
Atuan uncurls and throws his arms around Alistair’s neck, burying his face in the man’s shoulder and Alistair can feel tears soaking his shirt.
“Thank you, Alistair,” Atuan whispers, voice cracking, and Alistair feels his heart swell when Atuan says his name.
“I love you,” he says without really thinking, without realizing he’s said it until Atuan’s head whips up, eyes glowing in the dark looking at him with awe. Then he’s pressing kisses all over Alistair’s face, both of them laughing until Alistair finally captures Atuan’s lips with his own.
“Ar lath, ma vhenan,” Atuan breathes against his lips, “I love you.”
---
Orzammar is breathtakingly beautiful in its own way; Atuan has never seen anything quite like it. The lava falls and lake alone are mesmerizing to watch, but they have a job to do so no time for sightseeing. They’ve only been here for less than an hour but already he’s been dragged into another King making mess.
Bhelen or Harrowmont.
Even though Grey Wardens aren’t supposed to get involved in politics of any kind everyone seems to be ignoring that and using promises of their help against the Blight as leverage and Atuan is getting frustrated. Alistair is too since he’s been keeping quiet for the most part.
Atuan doesn’t particularly like either candidate, but Bhelen seems to be the better option of the two. Exposing Harrowmont’s real estate scam and destroying a branch of the Carta should’ve been enough to secure Bhelen’s crown in Atuan’s opinion, but no, there’s always more to do.
Apparently Paragon Branka’s opinion will be the thing that seals the deal so into the Deep Roads they must go. A dwarf by the name of Oghren intercepts them at the entrance and insists on going with them. He seems to know Branka well and honestly, they need all the help they can get.
---
The deeper they go into the Dead Trenches, the more something feels off about the place, and it’s not the fact that there’s thousands of Darkspawn below them. No, there’s a strange, far off sound, almost like music although it’s off key and doesn’t keep a consistent tempo. It’s giving him a headache, Alistair too with how he winces whenever the sound pitches up abruptly before pitching down again. It doesn’t seem to affect the others, so maybe it’s Darkspawn related?
Then there’s another sound, a voice, reciting a poem that gets louder and louder the closer they get.
“First day, they come and catch everyone.
Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.
Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.
Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.”
This doesn’t sound good. This place also doesn’t look too good either, more of those weird fleshy growths on the walls and floor.
“Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.
Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.
Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.
Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.
Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.”
Atuan can feel his stomach lurch at the implications. His eyes meets everyone else’s one by one; they understand too.
“Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.
Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams.”
When they turn the corner they find a dwarf woman, one Oghren seems to know.
“Hespith?”
---
They’re close to the source of the strange music now. He can tell because it gets louder and louder and Atuan looks sick; Alistair probably does too. He has a feeling he knows what it is, remembers the stories the other Grey Wardens had told him about the creatures that birth the Darkspawn. Alistair had nightmares for weeks just thinking about it.
The sound is nearly unbearable now as they enter the cave made out of flesh.
And there she is.
The Broodmother.
---
Two Paragons and the Anvil of the Void; Atuan is growing weary of having to make all these difficult decisions. It is all becoming too much but he cannot stop, not until the Archdemon lays dead. Having Golems as allies would put a massive dent in Darkspawn forces, but the creation of Golems leaves a bitter taste in his mouth so really it isn’t much of a choice.
He sides with Caridin.
Oghren, Morrigan, and Zevran aren’t happy with his choice, but that’s just too damn bad. If they have a problem with it then they can figure out how to end the Blight themselves.
Branka of course isn’t happy with his decision either and attacks, but then again she allowed her people to be given to the Darkspawn, allowed a Broodmother to be made. Sometimes the ends don’t justify the means.
---
When he crowns Bhelen as King, Bhelen orders for Harrowmont’s execution. As it happens, right there in the assembly chamber, Atuan is overcome with a sense of ominous dread that Alistair will be the next to face the chopping block if the fight for the Ferelden throne doesn’t go in their favor, no matter who sits upon it.
He fears the Landsmeet.
---
About halfway back to Redcliffe is when they’re ambushed by Darkspawn. It happens too quickly for most to get any armor on, but they slay the shrieks and hurlocks without much trouble. Alistair is helping the others begin to remove the corpses from camp when Barkspawn alerts them to Atuan’s missing presence.
---
Atuan can’t believe it, it can’t possibly be him because he’s supposed to be dead, but he’d recognize Tamlen anywhere.
“Tamlen!” he calls out to his friend as they both crash through the trees and underbrush. If he can just catch up to him he can help him, save him from the taint somehow. “Tamlen, wait!”
He can’t abandon him, not again.
Their chase ends when they break from the trees into a small clearing, the moons shining bright above them. As Tamlen turns to face him, Atuan can feel all the air leave his lungs. The taint has ravaged Tamlen, left him with a sickly pallor and a wasting look about him.
“You… lethallin…” Tamlen chokes out, voice sounding gravelly and as if it pains him to speak.
“It is you,” Atuan breathes out and steps closer, hand outreached to his friend. Tamlen flinches back and Atuan stops his approach.
“Don’t… don’t come near me! Stay away!”
He curls in on himself, trying to hide his face, and Atuan steps closer again, carefully as if trying not to scare a spooked animal.
“Don’t look at me!” Tamlen hisses. “I am… sick…”
“I can help you, Tamlen,” he says, voice soft. “Don’t be afraid.”
“No help,” he practically shrieks, “no… help for me.”
Tamlen wraps his arms around himself, digging nails that look almost like claws into his skin, black blood dripping down his arms. “The song… in my head. It… calls to me. He sings to me! I can’t stop it!”
Atuan lightly places his hands over Tamlen’s so as to stop him from hurting himself. His friend jerks and flings his hands away.
“Don’t want… to hurt you, lethallin. Please… stop me.”
Tears well up in his eyes as his heart hurts at what his friend, his brother, is asking him to do.
“I… I can’t. I have to try and heal you.”
Tamlen just shakes his head sadly, milky white eyes meeting amber ones.
“Too far. You cannot help me. I’m… so sorry, lethallin. Never wanted this…”
Before Atuan can say anything Tamlen strikes out at him. He manages to back away and is able to draw a dagger, but Tamlen’s claws still nick his arm, drawing blood. After that it devolves into a full out fight, though Atuan is mostly trying to block and not hurt Tamlen.
“Ma halani, lethallin! Ma ghilana mir din'an.”
Too many blows too quickly, Atuan too busy trying to keep up to realize what Tamlen is doing until it is too late. With a sickening sound of a blade digging into flesh, the dagger now plunged deep into Tamlen’s heart and Atuan feels the world freeze. Tamlen reaches up and tugs the dagger out, black blood spilling out onto his chest as he stumbles back and falls to the ground.
“No,” Atuan whispers, eyes wide with horror, his voice growing louder with each repetition of the word. He drops to his knees beside Tamlen, hands scrabbling to put pressure on the wound.
“Leave it be, lethallin. Nadas.”
“Telanadas,” Atuan hisses out as he begins sobbing, hands covered in black blood and Tamlen’s breathing becoming more and more labored.
“Always like you to fight fate,” Tamlen chuckles wetly before being interrupted by a coughing fit. “My time has come and I’m so tired, Atuan, will you let me go?”
He wants to say no, to help his friend, to heal him, but he knows that there is nothing more he can do, so he nods his head. Tamlen smiles and wraps Atuan’s hand around the dagger’s hilt before wrapping his hand around Atuan’s to help steady him as the dagger is placed above his heart once more.
“Ar lasa mala revas. Dareth shiral,” Atuan whispers before sinking the dagger once more into Tamlen’s chest. Within moments he lets out a sigh and then he’s gone. Tears overtake Atuan again as he curls over the remains of his friend.
It isn’t long until the others finally find him.
---
They’re able to find him by following the broken twigs and branches, but when there’s a distant shout of “No!” Alistair can feel his heart lodge in his throat in panic. Soon enough they come upon the clearing to find Atuan curled over a dead ghoul, crying.
Making his way over carefully, but making plenty of noise so as not to surprise the elf, Alistair tries to take note of any injury on him but finds none. Crouching down next to Atuan, he places a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Atuan uncurls himself and looks at Alistair, but says nothing.
Alistair glances at the ghoul’s face but does not recognize him.
“Who was that?”
“His name was Tamlen.” Atuan is so quiet that Alistair isn’t sure at first he’s said anything at all.
“Tamlen? Then… he was the one with you when you… I’m so sorry. This is what happens when the taint is left unchecked. It… it’s better for him, to have it end. It was a mercy.”
“Doesn’t feel like it. I should’ve looked harder for him. He’d been suffering all this time and I wasn’t able to do anything about it,” Atuan says looking listless.
---
They burn Tamlen’s body in that clearing. Alistair remembers, all those months ago when Atuan told him how the Dalish bury their dead with a tree planted over their grave.
“A tree was already planted for him. Besides, it’s better this way. He wouldn’t be happy knowing his body was poisoning the tree and the earth because of the taint in his blood,” Atuan says as the pyre’s flames dance in the reflection of his eyes.
---
It is difficult, to say the least, to see Atuan grieving over a hurt that had been thought to have healed only to have the wound ripped open again. Alistair knows he still blames himself for not doing enough to find Tamlen, but truthfully there wasn’t anything more he could have done before the taint would have set in and turned him like it did Tamlen.
---
Atuan seems to come to himself the closer they get to Denerim for the Landsmeet, though he’s worried about something.
“I’m worried for you,” Atuan tells him when he asks while they’re wrapped around each other in the privacy of their tent. “I’m scared that they’ll either force you to be something you don’t want to be or that they’ll have you executed like Bhelen did to Harrowmont.”
---
The Queen’s handmaiden, Erlina, gives Atuan hope; if the Queen is trustworthy, then she can continue to rule Ferelden and Alistair won’t have to give up his freedom. So they make a plan to rescue her from Howe. Morrigan, Leliana, Alistair, and him disguise themselves as house guards and make their way through the Denerim estate undetected.
They find Queen Anora easily, but the key to her room – a mage – lies with Howe who is down in the dungeons.
They free all the prisoners they find, especially Warden Riordan. What in the world is Howe doing with a Grey Warden in his cells?
---
Atuan should’ve known not to trust the Queen; she is her father’s daughter after all. They free her from her room and close to escaping the estate altogether when Loghain’s men and Ser Cauthrien intercept them and Queen Anora decides to throw them to the wolves and claim they were kidnapping her.
Atuan fixes her with a sharp look as he and Alistair are arrested. He’s not the only one; Leliana and Morrigan are giving the Queen sour looks as well.
---
He wakes to the smell of rotting flesh and the sound of tortured screams with his head in Alistair’s lap.
“Oh, you’re awake! I was starting to worry.”
“Are you alright? Where are we?”
“I’m fine, just a few bumps and bruises. As for the where, I’m not entirely sure. It’s not the royal palace dungeon, I think. Too orderly. Fort Drakon, perhaps. That doesn’t really bode well for us.”
Atuan groans as he sits up; he’s too young to be feeling this old and world weary.
“The others are coming, I’m sure, but I’d rather not wait around here long enough for us to be put on the rack. If we’re lucky, we’ll meet with them halfway.”
---
“Ugh, this whole choosing the next ruler of Ferelden business is too stressful. There’s no happy outcome the way I see it,” Atuan grumbles into Alistair’s shoulder in the privacy of the room they’re sharing in Arl Eamon’s Denerim estate after they’ve escaped Fort Drakon. “Loghain has to pay for what he did, Anora is shifty and I honestly don’t trust her to not have you executed, Eamon nor Teagan can be chosen because they’ll be seen as greedy, and according to Leliana the only other choice are the Couslands but they’re all either dead or missing.”
Alistair is quiet for several moments as he combs his fingers through Atuan’s hair.
“I could do it.”
Atuan lifts his head from Alistair’s shoulder and looks at him.
“I thought you didn’t want to be King.”
Shrugging, Alistair tugs Atuan back down against his chest.
“I don’t, but if there really isn’t a better choice then I won’t say no.”
“Sudden change of heart?”
“Not really sudden, more like I’ve had time to really think it through.”
Atuan hums at that as he idly traces shapes over his collarbone.
“What about us? If you become King they’ll expect you to marry.”
“I don’t know, but I’m not giving you up. Besides, if I’m King no one can tell me what to do,” he says with a lopsided grin which makes Atuan laugh.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
---
“Absolutely not! Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed! He hunted us down like animals. He tortured you! How can we simply forget that?”
“No, Loghain has to die for his crimes. Nothing he could ever do could possibly make up for all the damage he’s done.”
“You can’t do this! My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people.”
“Anora, hush. It’s over.”
No, he doesn’t get to sound tired, doesn’t get to sound like some kind of martyr. While Loghain and his daughter argue quietly, Atuan unsheathes his sword and waits. When they are done, Atuan holds his sword out for Alistair to take.
“Alistair, you should be the one to do this.”
He nods as he takes the weapon.
“I will. I owe that to Duncan.”
“Teryn Loghain Mac Tir, you will be executed for your crimes against the crown, Ferelden, and the Grey Wardens,” Atuan says, his words as cold as his eyes in this moment. “May your Maker have mercy on your soul.”
And with that and the swing of a sword, Loghain dies.
---
“As the arbiter of this dispute, what is your decision? Who will lead Ferelden?”
“Alistair.”
“Anora, the Landsmeet has decided against you. You must now swear fealty to our King, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs.”
Anora scoffs at Eamon.
“If you think I’ll swear that oath, Eamon, you know nothing of me.”
“Well something will have to be done about you then,” Atuan says.
“We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war. We must have unity. If she will not swear fealty to you, Alistair, and renounce her claim to the throne, she is a threat to us all.”
“What do you want me to do, exactly? Kill her? I can’t do that.”
It would be the simplest solution, but seeing the pained look on Alistair’s face Atuan remains silent.
“I guess… put her in the tower for now,” Alistair says after a long moment. “Lock her up. Maybe we can find somewhere to send her. Later.”
“Thank you, Alistair. You show me mercy that I… would not have shown you.”
Well, at least she’s being honest, Atuan will give her that.
---
When they return to Redcliffe castle Riordan gives them the worst news possible; one of them will have to die to slay the Archdemon. When he wanders back to his own room, trying to think of any possible way to keep both him and Alistair alive (there’s no guarantee that Riordan will be the one to land the killing blow), Morrigan makes him an offer; one night with her to create a vessel for the Archdemon’s soul and no one has to die for it.
He’s going to do it, but he needs to at least let Alistair know what is going on. Morrigan says it isn’t necessary, but Atuan disagrees, he won’t keep a secret like this from Alistair.
He doesn’t take it as well as Atuan had been hoping.
There’s yelling, a lot of it.
“I can’t believe you actually agreed to sleep with that – that sneaky witch!”
“If it means that neither of us has to die to end the Blight, then yes! I will not lose you to some Archdemon if it can be avoided!”
Alistair seems to deflate at that.
“Yeah, well I’m worried that I’ll lose you to her.”
Sighing, Atuan reaches up to cup the sides of Alistar’s face, kissing him before bringing their foreheads to rest against each other.
“You’re not going to lose me to her. Morrigan and I are only friends. Alistair, ma vhenan, you are the love of my life. So if one night is spent with her so I can keep you for the rest of our lives then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
Alistair manages to crack a smile.
“So I’m the love of your life, huh?”
Atuan grins back at him, winding his arms around the human's neck in an embrace.
"Yes."
---
It becomes a mad dash for Denerim after that, the Archdemon and the Darkspawn completely bypassing Redcliffe. Cutting their way through the horde feels like ages have passed; they’re in the middle of the Alienage when Riordan falls from the Archdemon’s back, having destroyed one of its wings.
It lands on the top of Fort Drakon so that is their destination.
The sky is blood red and half of Denerim is either on fire or in shambles by the time they’re running through the fort.
When they reach the roof the Archdemon roars and Atuan knows this may be their only chance to end the Blight before it spreads any further.
---
A burst of light and a shockwave are released when Atuan lands the killing blow on the Archdemon. Once the dust settles both lay unmoving on the ground and Alistair feels his heart leap into his throat; what if Morrigan’s ritual didn’t work?
He and Wynne move to Atuan’s side and she confirms that he is still breathing, albeit barely. Leliana has gathered a few of the soldiers who are still standing to help move the unconscious elf, but no, Alistair will not allow anyone else to carry Atuan but him; they’ll move quicker if it’s just the four of them.
Through the crumbling and ruined streets of Denerim they make their way to the castle, which has miraculously remained unscathed, Wynne using what was left of her magic to keep the bloodied Atuan stable until more could be done for him.
One of the few remaining servants lead them to the King’s quarters while another went to fetch their companions from the battlefield and others went in search of healers. Alistair and Leliana began to pry the elf’s armor away so as to get a better look at his wounds and so he could breathe unhindered. A healer eventually arrived not too long after to relieve Wynne from her task of keeping Atuan together.
It’s strange to see Atuan like this, silent and unmoving, as still as a corpse. Skin far too pale and covered in grime, too many wounds, too much. Alistair does his best to clean his love’s face while the healers (more have shown up as time passes) work to keep him from bleeding out. After hours of work, they’re both patched up and the healers leave to help others, but Atuan has yet to wake.
Leliana, Wynne, and Zevran try to coax him away, to get rest, but he won’t leave. Instead he stays, lying next to Atuan on the large bed, running his fingers through hair that looks like starlight. Barkspawn wanders in some time later and lies down at the foot of the bed, watching the door. Alistair can feel himself relax enough to sleep, though he’s careful not to disturb any of the stitches on either of them.
---
The bright morning light filtering in through the large windows wakes him. Barkspawn is gone, probably in search of food, and Atuan is actually awake and looking at him with bleary amber eyes and a goofy grin.
“See? Wasn’t a completely terrible idea after all.”
Alistair rolls his eyes, letting out an amused huff as he places a kiss on the elf’s cheek.
“No need to be smug; you were right.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And you’re the love of my life too, you know.”
“I should hope so, I don’t slay Archdemons for just anyone,” Atuan chuckles before wincing when it pulls at his ribs the wrong way.
Here they are, against all odds, alive and together. If you had asked Alistair all those months ago back in Ostagar how his life would turn out, he honestly wouldn’t have thought it could even be half as good as it is right now, bruises and wounds aside.
Alistair cups one side of Atuan’s face, thumb rubbing at the hinge of his jaw, sighing in contentment.
“Stay with me?”
“Always.”