,,,,,,,,THE BASTARD PRINCE - A Dragon Age: Origins fan game chronicling how Alistair came to join the Wardens.
[[PROLOGUE]]At breakfast, the Templar recruits are abuzz about the tourney.
Several of them have signed up to take part in it and are speaking loudly of it - the most popular ones, the arrogant ones who are sure they'll beat the seasoned templars they'll fight.
These recruits are the ones Alistair likes least.
[[Get your breakfast]]Alistair clenches his jaw and concentrates on his breakfast, pretending not to hear.
Piotr laughs, and his friends join him, calling Alistair a coward and a weakling.
[[Continue ignoring him]]
[[Stand up for yourself]]"Could I win? Against you, certainly," Alistair says, glaring over at Piotr, who laughs and slaps the table with his hand, making every bit of crockery shake.
"You hear this, lads? The little bastard thinks he can beat <i>me</i>. He couldn't beat himself off."
His friends laugh, and one of them, a hulking brute named Ren, says, "He'd have to, it's not like he's getting any elsewhere," and sneers down the table at Alistair, making a most crude gesture with his hand.
"Oh?" Piotr says. "I thought he was bending the little lady over in the stables," he says, and sends an ugly smile Ara's way.
Ara blushes beetroot, but looks up at Alistair and shakes her head. "Don't."
[[Defend Ara's honour]]
[[Decide to ignore him]] Alistair continues to concentrate on his breakfast, telling himself that they're not worth his time, for all that he can feel his cheeks burning.
Ara gives him a nervous smile, but she doesn't say anything.
Soon enough Piotr and the others move on to boasting about how they will come out on top, beating not only Alistair but the renowned Templars taking part in the tourney too.
Their arrogance will be their downfall, Alistair thinks, and he takes his bowl to the sideboard and leaves the breakfast hall.
[[Head to class]]Alistair stands, ignoring Ara when she grabs his wrist and says again,
<i>"Don't."</i>
Instead he glares down the table at Piotr and his friends. "You can say what you like about me, but leave Ara out of this."
"Aw, don't you like it when we're mean to your girlfriend?"
"She's not my girlfriend!"
"Oh?" Piotr smirks. "Not that desperate yet?"
[[Hit Piotr]]
[[Insult Piotr]]Taking a calming breath, Alistair turns his concentration to his breakfast, telling himself that they're not worth his time, for all that he can feel his cheeks burning.
Ara gives him a nervous smile, and whispers, "They're not worth it."
Soon enough Piotr and the others move on to boasting about how they will come out on top, beating not only Alistair but the renowned Templars taking part in the tourney too.
Their arrogance will be their downfall, Alistair thinks, and he takes his bowl to the sideboard and leaves the breakfast hall.
[[Head to class]]Alistair moves quickly, clearing the distance between the two of them and lands a punch on Piotr's cheek. His head snaps back, and when he looks at Alistair next, there is fury in his eyes.
"You dare," he hisses, and Ren tries to grab Alistair, but he manages to push away, swiping at Ren's legs with a foot and making him fall to the floor with a cry.
"I dare," Alistair says, and then Piotr is on him.
[[Piotr fights back]]"Desperate would be turning to you," Alistair says. "I'd rather take a vow of celibacy than that."
"And how would that be any different?" Piotr says with a smirk, and this time it's not only his friends laughing but the whole table.
[[Hit Piotr]]
[[Decide to ignore him]] "Piotr started it," Alistair says.
"You bastard!" Piotr says, and for a moment Alistair thinks Piotr is going to hit him, even with the Grand Cleric watching on. Instead he turns to her, eyes wide like he is attempting to look innocent. "I didn't start it! He lunged at me, and knocked Ren to the floor. That's why the others were holding him back, he'd gone mad!"
The Grand Cleric cocks her head, and when she turns to Alistair, his heart sinks. She's already made up her mind.
[[Try to defend yourself]]"He deserved it," Alistair says. "He insulted me, and Ara-"
"And you decided that violence was the answer? You are a disgrace, Alistair," the Grand Cleric says. Beside him, Piotr is smirking, and Alistair longs to knock the smile from his face.
[[Apologise]]
[[Keep defending yourself]]Anger batters at Alistair and he storms out of the breakfast hall, stung by the unfairness of it all. Piotr is arrogant, reckless, self-centred - everything a Templar shouldn't be, but <i>Alistair</i> is the one who is punished!
There must be a way for him to compete today!
[[Try to convince the Grand Cleric]]
[[Walk it off]]Alistair clenches his jaw, and wants more than anything for Piotr to get his comeuppance for once in his life, but out of the corner of his eye he sees Ara, who is looking at him pleadingly.
"You're right, Grand Cleric," he says, though he has to force every word out and stare at the floor so that she can't see the anger simmering in his eyes. "He said things about Ara and me, inappropriate things, but I shouldn't have reacted. I should've had better control."
"Yes," she says. "You should. You are barred from the tourney this afternoon-"
[[Start to argue]]"I chose to defend my fellow recruit from someone insulting her honour," Alistair says. "Is that not the right thing to do?"
The Grand Cleric looks at him, and folds her arms. "It is. But you should use words to do so, not violence."
"And if words hadn't stopped him?"
"Then you should've spoken to the instructors, or to me."
Alistair has nothing to say to that; she is right, of course. He doesn't have much of a temper, but when it flares it can get the better of him. "I understand."
[[The Grand Cleric continues]]Alistair heads to his classes, but he can't say he pays much attention. How can he, when there is the excitement of the tourney to look forward to? He's not the only one who is having trouble focusing - whether taking part or watching, it will be an event not to be missed.
He makes some efforts to pay attention - answers a few questions, makes a few notes - but he cannot close his books quickly enough when the bell rings noon, announcing time for the tourney.
"You're all eager for the festivities, I see," says Ser Yancy, their teacher, with a smile. "Very well. Outside with you."
The area in front of the chantry has been cleared to make a tournament area. By the time Alistair gets there, many of his fellow recruits are already gathered, along with the Chantry brothers and sisters and others from the town.
[[Prepare for the tourney]]
[[Go to speak to Ara first]]The Grand Cleric's rooms are in the back of the Chantry, humble but full of books and amulets and other treasures. As Alistair knocks on the open door, she turns, and she does not look pleased.
"What is it?"
Alistair takes a breath, reminding himself that he needs to stay calm if he's to convince her.
[[Piotr needs to be put in his place]]
[[Alistair will make his teachers proud]]With a sigh, Alistair walks outside. The sun is shining for once, a rarity in Ferelden. As he looks up at the vast blue sky, he shakes his head. He doesn't want to get in any more trouble - Ara is right, Piotr isn't worth his time.
[[Go to class]]
[[Go back to speak with Ara]]Ara is just putting her breakfast bowl - and Alistair's - on the side table as he steps back in the breakfast hall.
She turns to look, seeming surprised to see him.
"I thought you'd stormed off," she says, and Alistair nods.
"I did, but, you know. The - the storm passed. I just wanted to say thank you. For standing up for me."
"Anytime," she says, and looks at him with a bright smile.
[[Flirt With Her]]
[[Say Something Friendly]]
[[Go to class]]"I want to take part in the tourney. Piotr's arrogance will bring shame to the Chantry if he's not put in his place."
"And what would <i>your</i> arrogance do?"
"But-"
"Don't argue with me, boy," the Grand Cleric says, standing, and clearly having reached the end of her patience. "You will attend the tourney, but do not think this is a reward. You will go and you see see how true templars behave - not with pettiness or arrogance, but with valor and courage and fairness. Now go to your classes before I lose my temper with you."
[[Go to class]]
[[Skip class]]"I was wondering if there's any way I can convince you to let me take part in the tourney. I've studied hard, and I'll make my teachers proud."
The Grand Cleric folds her arms and looks at him with doubt in her eyes. "You think so, do you?"
[[Of course I will]]
[[I hope so - I'll do my best]]Storming off, Alistair goes to the small orchard at the back of the Chantry, hiding behind a tree. The unfairness of it all stings keenly. He will not go to class, where Piotr and his friends will only tease him even more.
And so he stays in the orchard, stewing in his anger and his resentment, until the bell in the great tower announces noon, and the start of the tourney.
[[Leave the orchard to watch the tourney]]"Of course I will. I'm a damn good fighter and I <i>know</i> I could beat Piotr-"
"It is unbecoming of a templar to obsess so over shaming his fellows," the Grand Cleric snaps. "I will not let someone who shows such weakness of spirit bring shame on our Chantry."
"But-"
"You will <i>attend</i> the tourney, but do not think this is a reward. You will go and you see see how true templars behave - not with pettiness or arrogance, but with valor and courage and fairness. Now go to your classes before I lose my temper with you."
[[Go to class]]
[[Skip class]]"I hope so - I'll do my best, anyway."
The Grand Cleric looks at him for a long moment, so he stands as straight as he can, looks as eager as he can. Eventually she relents.
"Fine. You can take part. Like as not you'll be eliminated early anyway."
Alistair blinks - he didn't truly think that she'd allow it. "I - thank you so much, Grand Cleric!"
"Yes, yes. Now go to your classes before you're late."
[[Return to speak with Ara]]
[[Head to class]] The area in front of the chantry has been cleared to make a tournament area. By the time Alistair gets there, many of his fellow templars are already gathered, along with the Chantry brothers and sisters and others from the town. There's quite a gathering, but Ser Yancy still notes Alistair's arrival and strides over to him.
"I noticed you did not attend class today," Yancy says.
"I wasn't feeling well."
"Oh, yes. I did hear that you bruised your pride." Alistair glares at him, but Yancy only gestures at the crowd. "Take a seat. Perhaps watching the best of us will teach you something you've refused you learn so far."
Alistair almost speaks back, but decides better. He is pushing his luck, he knows, and he does want to at least watch the tourney.
[[Go to sit with Ara]]
[[Decide to sit alone]]
Alistair goes over to Ara and sits beside her. She smiles in greeting at him and asks, "Are you feeling better now?"
[[I am now I've seen you]]
[[Much better, thank you]]"I am now I've seen you," Alistair says, with as charming a smile as he can manage. Ara laughs, but she's not laughing at him, or at least he doesn't think so.
"Are you being charming, Alistair?"
"I'm certainly trying. Is it working?"
She bites her lip, then lays her hand over his. His heart beats faster. "I think it might be."
"Alistair!" He looks up and sees that Ser Imra, one of their trainers, is gesturing for him. "Time to get ready."
"I'd best go," he says, and Ara nods, then, after a moment, she kisses his cheek. He stares at her, astonished, as she looks away with pink cheeks.
"For luck," she says. "You - you should go, before Imra gets impatient."
[[Get ready]]"Much better, thank you."
"I'm glad," she says. "It would've been sad if you let Piotr spoil your day."
He nods. "You're right. It'll be fun."
"Alistair!" He looks up and sees that Ser Imra, one of their trainees, is gesturing for him. "Time to get ready."
"I'd best go," he says, and Ara nods, then, after a moment, she kisses his cheek. He stares at her, astonished, as she looks away with pink cheeks.
"For luck," she says. "You - you should go, before Imra gets impatient."
[[Get ready]]Alistair and the others gather at the entrance to the stables to watch as the Grand Cleric comes out onto the field in her robes and vestements, and the crowd grows quiet.
"We are here to honour the presence of the Commander of the Grey, Duncan," she starts, and gestures at a man on the front row. Alistair leans forward to see him. A tall man, with brown skin and a black beard, black hair to match tied back in a ponytail. He smiles and bows his head to the Grand Cleric in thanks, and Alistair thinks he looks like a good man. "May the Maker bless all of those who take part today, and may He bless the Wardens, always."
[[The Warriors are Introduced]]Sadly, Rowan passed away, and Maric was left to juggle the twin responsibilities of rule and fatherhood alone.
One day, Grey Wardens came to the palace. An honourable order, sworn to protect the world to their dying breath, they needed the king's help.
And so Maric went with them, to defeat the evil that hid underground. Yet, it was not all hardship. One of the Wardens was a beautiful elven mage, and Maric found himself enchanted by her. They lay together, King and Warden, and conceived a child.
The Bastard Prince.
[[Continue >]]When the he was born, his mother, Fiona, gave him away. It was better, she thought, to have him think his mother a human; to be elf-blooded was to be a second-class citizen, and his life would be hard enough as a bastard. Let him think he was human, and reap what benefits he could.
Alistair, he was named, and he was every bit as beautiful as his brother, his smile every bit as bright.
But that smile quickly became rare.
He was given to an uncle of sorts, Eamon, to raise in Redcliffe, a village far from the capital city of Denerim, to keep suspicions off his royal father. If there was love there, it was rarely shown, and from a young age Alistair slept in the kennels with the dogs. Perhaps this was to keep him away from anyone who might note the resemblance to his brother or his father; or perhaps, as he believed, because that was all he was worth.
[[Continue >>]]When Alistair was ten, Eamon's wife, who thought Alistair her husband's bastard, insisted she didn't want the boy in the castle. And so Alistair was sent away from this loveless home to become a templar.
Not religious and not interested, he was no more accepted amongst his fellow recruits than he was in Redcliffe. Some despised his bastard birth; others mistook his wariness for arrogance. The Grand Cleric who ran the Chantry openly despised him, for reasons he would never know.
[[Continue >>>]]As the Grand Cleric leaves the arena, Ser Imra takes her place, and her smile as she looks out upon the crowd is bright.
"Gathered folk, welcome! I am Ser Imra, one of those who train the recruits. It's my responsibility to make sure that all of our templars are fine warriors and fine people, and I'm looking forward to seeing them prove that their training is working well today. They will be fighting some of the most seasoned of templars, heroes from all across Ferelden and we are honoured to have them here with us!"
[[The Templars]]Ara is just putting her breakfast bowl - and Alistair's - on the side table as he steps back in the breakfast hall.
She turns to look, seeming surprised to see him.
"I thought you'd stormed off," she says, and Alistair nods.
"I did, but, you know. The - the storm passed. I just wanted to say thank you. For standing up for me."
"Anytime," she says, and looks at him with a bright smile.
[[Flirt with her]]
[[Say something friendly]]
[[Head to class]]Alistair heads to his classes, but he can't say he pays much attention. How can he, when there is the excitement of the tourney to look forward to? Even though he won't be taking part, it's still an event not to be missed.
He makes some efforts to pay attention - answers a few questions, makes a few notes - but he cannot close his books quickly enough when the bell rings noon, announcing time for the tourney.
"You're all eager for the festivities, I see," says Ser Yancy, their teacher, with a smile. Very well. Outside with you."
The area in front of the chantry has been cleared to make a tournament area. By the time Alistair gets there, many of his fellow templars are already gathered, along with the Chantry brothers and sisters and others from the town.
[[Go to sit with Ara]]
[[Decide to sit alone]]Alistair takes a seat next to Ara, who smiles in greeting at him and asks, "Are you feeling better now?"
[[Flirt]]
[[Thank her]]Looking at the crowd, Alistair takes the nearest empty seat, next to a townsperson he doesn't know. It's on the front row, so he'll have the best view of the action.
[[The tourney begins]]"Much better, thank you."
"I'm glad," she says. "It would've been sad if you let Piotr spoil your day."
He nods. "You're right. Let's have fun."
[[The tourney begins]]"I am now I've seen you," Alistair says, with as charming a smile as he can manage. Ara laughs, but she's not laughing at him, or at least he doesn't think so.
"Are you being charming, Alistair?"
"I'm certainly trying. Is it working?"
She bites her lip, then lays her hand over his. His heart beats faster. "I think it might be."
[[The tourney begins]]The Grand Cleric comes out onto the field in her robes and vestements, and the crowd grows quiet.
"We are here to honour the presence of the Commander of the Grey, Duncan," she starts, and gestures at a man on the front row. Alistair leans forward to see him. A tall man, with brown skin and a black beard, black hair to match tied back in a ponytail. He smiles and bows his head to the Grand Cleric in thanks, and Alistair thinks he looks like a good man. "May the Maker bless all of those who take part today, and may He bless the Wardens, always."
[[The warriors are introduced]]As the Grand Cleric leaves the arena, Ser Imra takes her place. She is a large woman, with blonde curls and a handsome face. Her smile as she looks out upon the crowd is bright.
"Gathered folk, welcome! I am Ser Imra, one of those who train the recruits. It's my responsibility to make sure that all of our templars are fine warriors and fine people, and I'm looking forward to seeing them prove that their training is working well today. They will be fighting some of the most seasoned of templars, heroes from all across Ferelden and we are honoured to have them here with us!"
[[The templars]]One by one, Ser Imra introduces the templars, and Alistair stares at them.
There is Ser Eryhn, who walks onto the field wearing her heavy armour as easily as a tunic; Ser Talrew, a renowned leader of many victories against the Chasind; and Ser Kalvin, who has a reputation as one of the finest blades in Ferelden. Others, too, standing in a line before the crowd in their shining armour.
They look like something of a tale, and Alistair swallows. There is no way he's going to beat <i>any</i> of them.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Piotr smirking at him, then when he sees he has Alistair's attention, he draws a finger across his throat.
Glaring at him, Alistair vows that he will do better than Piotr, at least.
[[The recruits are introduced]]One by one, Ser Imra introduces the templars, and Alistair stares at them.
There is Ser Eryhn, who walks onto the field wearing her heavy armour as easily as a tunic; Ser Talrew, a renowned leader of many victories against the Chasind; and Ser Kalvin, who has a reputation as one of the finest blades in Ferelden. Others, too, standing in a line before the crowd in their shining armour.
They look like something of a tale! Alistair hopes dearly that they put Piotr in his place.
[[A scuffle!]]Now, Ser Imra introduces the recruits. Once their names are announced, they are to go out onto the field to face the templars.
Alistair is afraid he'll trip over his own sword, but he manages well enough and finds himself facing Ser Eryhn. Alistair is tall, but she is taller still, and he swallows as he looks at her.
There is no way he can defeat her, surely - but he will try.
[[The fights begin]]Alistair hurries into the stables, which have been repurposed so that the recruits can prepare for the tourney. Most of the others are already there, with friends helping them into their armour, but as usual, Alistair is left to struggle alone.
Piotr is there with his lackies and Alistair tries not to feel bitter that someone like him has so many hangers-on when Alistair struggles to make a single friend.
He's dragged from his thoughts when Imra strides over, tugging a buckle on his breastplate, checking the rest of his armour and then giving a perfunctory nod.
"I'm not expecting you to win anything out there, but I know you will try," she says, and claps a hand to his shoulder before turning to roar at Piotr for putting his chestplate on before his boots.
Well, Alistair thinks to himself. Perhaps being a templar recruit isn't all bad.
[[The tourney starts]]Alistair is hurried into the stables, which have been repurposed for the occasion. Most of the others have friends helping them into their armour, but Alistair is left to struggle alone. Most of the time that would hurt, but today he cannot stop thinking about Ara.
She kissed him!
<i>For good luck,</i> he reminds himself.
But... what if it is more?
Does he want it to be more?
He's dragged from his thoughts when Imra strides over, tugging a buckle on his breastplate, checking the rest of his armour and then giving a perfunctory nod.
"I'm not expecting you to win anything out there, but I know you will try," she says, and claps a hand to his shoulder before turning to roar at Piotr for putting his chestplate on before his boots.
Well, Alistair thinks to himself as Piotr stutters and blushes. Being a templar recruit isn't always so bad.
[[The tourney starts]]Just as Imra is about to introduce the recruits who will be taking part in the tourney, there are some shouts from the stable that has been repurposed as a place for the recruits to get ready.
Something is happening, though the recruits nearest the stables have crowded at the entrance, and Alistair can't see what is happening over their shoulders.
Imra marches over, yells at whoever is causing a fuss.
There's quiet murmuring both amongst the recruits, and in the crowd, all of them straining to see what is happening, excited for a bit of action before the tourney has even started.
After a few moments, Jonas, a rogueish loner of a boy, jogs from the stables to Alistair. Bending down to whisper in his ear, he says,
"Imra wants to see you."
[[Go with Jonas]]
[[Refuse]]As Alistair steps into the stables, he sees that one of the recruits is sitting heavily at the side of the room, moaning with tears in his eyes and clutching at his arm.
Imra is scolding Piotr, who is only just managing not to smirk at her.
"If I could," she says, "I'd throw you out of the recruits, never mind the tourney. But that's not my place. Believe me though, I will be having words with the Grand Cleric."
Piotr's lips twitch as he says, "Right you are, ser."
With a sigh, Imra shakes her head, then turns to Alistair. "Get your armour on," she says to him, and Alistair blinks.
"I - me? The Grand Cleric banned me from fighting."
"We don't have enoungh combatants to lose anyone, so you're back in the tourney."
[[Refuse to do it]]
[[Get your armour on]]"I don't care," Alistair says, and Jonas stares at him.
"Are you serious? You're refusing to go to her?"
[[You are indeed refusing]]
[[Go with Jonas]]It's foolish, perhaps, but Alistair nods. He has had a terrible day, and he is not in the mood to bow to anyone's whims.
"I am indeed refusing."
Jonas stares at him, astonished, and opens his mouth as if to say something. His mouth shuts with a snap and he shakes his head. "No wonder no-one likes you," he says before returning to the stables.
[[The Recruits are Introduced]]The recruits are introduced just as the templars were, then stand opposite the templars in a line, facing them. They have their back's to Alistair, and he is just glad he can't see Piotr's face.
Imra steps between them, and her smile is forced now.
"The recruits will show their mettle against the templars in one on one combat. Let the tourney begin with a match between Ser Tain and the recruit Piotr!"
[[Tain vs Piotr]]"No," Alistair says, and Imra's eyes narrow.
"You're being given a second chance, Alistair. You'd be wise to take it. I'll say it again: Get your armour on."
[[Get your armour on]]
[[Refuse the second chance]]Jonas helps Alistair with his armour, and all the while, Alistair's heart is racing. He's getting a second chance! A second chance to beat Piotr - and a second chance to prove his worth, too.
"There you go," Jonas says, handing Alistair his sword, then glancing over at Piotr with a frown. "Kick his arse, will you?"
"I'll do my best."
[[The recruits are introduced]]"And I'll say it again," Alistair says. "No."
Imra stares at him, almost surprised; behind her, Piotr stares too, with something almost like admiration.
"I cannot force you, but believe me, I will speak to the Grand Cleric about this once the tourney is over with, and she will <i>not</i> be happy with you. Get back to your seat."
[[The Recruits are Introduced]]Alistair leans forward to watch closely, very interested in watching the fight. Ser Tain is a rogue who uses daggers; Piotr uses a two-handed axe. It will be a contest of speed versus strength.
The contest starts with Ser Tain drawing her daggers, and smiling mockingly: a challenge Piotr is too foolish to ignore. He swings his heavy axe, and Tain easily darts out of range, slipping behind him to slam the hilt of her dagger in his neck.
Piotr cries out and staggers forward, twisting to bring a gauntlet up to defend against Tain's slashing blades.
Everything happens quickly after that; Piotr is hopelessly overmatched and a few quick jabs from Tain's dagger has him dropping the axe and falling to his knees.
"Do you yield?" She asks, and rarely has Alistair heard a sweeter sound than Piotr glaring at her, spitting out blood and saying,
"I yield."
A great roar of applause goes up amongst the crowd, none louder than Alistair as Piotr storms off the field.
[[The tourney continues]]One by one, the recruits are defeated. Most take their defeat with grace, and move on to fight another templar; a few storm off, as Piotr did.
A few even win their battles - usually the older ones with more experience, or the ones from noble families who have been fighting since they could pick up a sword. The best of the recruits, though, is Ulla, who had been a thief as a child, stealing food and coin to survive before the Chantry took her in. She's the fastest fighter Alistair's ever seen, and she takes even the templars by surprise. She wins two matches before she is badly winded, and begs leave to take a seat rather than fight again.
There are cheers and applause from the audience for all of the fighters, and Alistair feels a little jealousy that he doesn't get to hear someone cheer for him.
[[The tourney ends]]As the tourney comes to an end, there is to be a celebration. Long tables have been set up at the side of the arena, filled with food and juice, ale and wine.
[[Go to the celebration]]
[[Return to the barracks]]Alistair heads over to the tables, hoping to at least get some food and some alcohol without anyone bothering him. It's a big enough crowd; with luck he can get lost in it.
Alas, luck continues to elude him.
"Alistair," Ara says from behind him, and she grabs his arm as though she thinks - perhaps rightly - that he might run.
He turns to look at her, and wishes he hadn't. Rarely has he seen her look so disapproving, and it's never been directed at him.
"I was wrong about you," she says. "I thought you were a good person. I knew you didn't like it here, and you were forced into it. I know that the others are awful to you. But you... How could you let Ser Imra down like that? She was giving you a second chance and you just disrespected her!"
[[Try to explain]]
[["So what if I did?"]]
Rather than stay and be looked at disapprovingly by Imra and the Grand Cleric, Alistair decides to return to the barracks. He will be scolded for that, but considering everything else he will be scolded for, what is one more thing?
In the barracks, he finds himself alone and throws himself onto the bed and glares at the ceiling.
It is so unfair, he thinks.
Everything that happened today is Piotr's fault. If Alistair had just put him in his place before the Grand Cleric turned up...
Well. Ser Tain did a better of job of putting him in his place than Alistair ever could, and he smiles to think it.
Perhaps today hasn't been so very bad after all.
[[The Next Day]]The next day, Alistair is called into the Grand Cleric's rooms.
Much as he is loathe to go, he cannot refuse.
When he arrives, both the Grand Cleric and Ser Imra are awaiting him, looking grave, and Alistair dearly wishes to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
"We are very disappointed in you, Alistair," the Grand Cleric tells him. "We expected better."
[[Talk back to her]]
[[Take the scolding in silence]]"Can you blame me? You always treat me like I'm a - a stain on your shoe! No matter what I do, you glare at me and tut and chastise me." He should stop, he knows, but it feels good to stand up for himself for once.
"Alistair," Imra says warningly.
[[Decide to stop]]
[[Lose your temper]]
"Though in truth," the Grand Cleric continues, "I don't know why. You've been decent enough in your training but you've never shone in anything, and you've always been ungrateful."
[[Talk back to her]]
[[Decide to hold your tongue]]"It wasn't like that-"
"It was exactly like that," Ara says, and shakes her head. "I never thought of you as selfish, Alistair. I thought you cared about other people. I guess I was wrong."
Before Alistair can say a word to defend himself, she walks away.
[[Make it up to her]]
[[You don't need her]]"So what if I did? I don't need to be judged by you, Ara," he snaps, and Ara's jaw tightens.
"You know, I wanted to know what kind of man you are. And you've just given me the answer. Don't bother me again, Alistair."
And with that, she leaves once more.
[[You don't need her]]Going after her, Alistair calls, "Ara, I'm sorry."
She pauses, and turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "And what are you sorry for, Alistair?"
"For - for letting my temper get away with me. After this morning, with Piotr, and then-"
"Piotr is an ass. I didn't think you were."
"I'm not. Well - not all the time. Can I make it up to you?"
Ara folds her arms and looks closely at him; he's not sure what she's looking for. "I don't know, Alistair. Can you?"
[[Try to charm her]]
[[Get annoyed]]Alistair watches her go, then drinks the rest of his cup of ale in one go. He doesn't need her. He doesn't need anybody.
The rest of the night is spent in a corner, alone with his ale and an increasingly fuzzy head, and only the thought to keep him company:
<i>I don't need anybody.</i>
[[The Next Day]]"I could... I could tell a joke. I mean - not a good one. But I could try. Or I could be your servant for the evening. Or-"
"Or you could apologise to Ser Imra," she says, and Alistair stares at her.
[[Agree to it]]
[[Absolutely not]]"I don't need to be judged by you, Ara," he snaps, and Ara's jaw tightens.
"You know, I wanted to know what kind of man you are. And you've just given me the answer. Don't bother me again, Alistair."
And with that, she leaves once more.
[[You don't need her]]"Apologise," he says, and looks across the crowd to where Imra stands head and shoulders above most others. Beside her is the Grey Warden, Duncan, and Alistair's lips thin. "Now?"
"There's no time like the present."
[[Put it off]]
[[Go now]]"You're joking, right?" He says, and shakes his head. "I'm not - I'm not prostrating myself in front of her right here in front of everyone."
"I wasn't asking you to," she says, and she sounds as annoyed as Alistair feels. "Just say you're sorry-"
"Absolutely not. I'm <i>not</i> sorry, and I won't lie."
Ara shakes her head. "At least you have one good thing about you," she says, and walks away.
[[You don't need her]]"I'll do it later," he says with a shrug, and Ara rolls her eyes at him.
"Don't bother then," she says crossly, and storms off.
[[You don't need her]]Alistair wants to refuse, but he knows Ara is right. He sighs and finishes his ale, putting his empty mug down on a nearby table before walking over to Ser Imra.
She looks at him when he approaches, pursing her lips. The Warden looks at him as well, then looks between the two of them.
"Ser Imra," Alistair says, and clears his throat. "I - I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For acting like I did. There's no excusing it, I know. I just - I let pride overcome me. Not becoming of a templar, is it?"
"It isn't. But I appreciate the apology, Alistair. I know it can't have been easy for you. And I know that things have been hard for you here - truth be told I'm surprised it took you this long to snap. Look - I've already told the Grand Cleric how you acted, but I'll be sure to tell her that you apologised as well." She puts a hand to Alistair's shoulder and squeezes, a little harder than she needs to. "Don't let it happen again, hear me?"
"Yes, ser," he says, nodding, and then giving her a shallow bow, then doing the same for the Warden, who is looking at him thoughtfully.
"Get out of here," Imra says. "Go and have fun."
[[Go back to Ara]]
He makes his way back to Ara, and she beams at him.
"I knew you weren't an ass after all!" She says, and Alistair chuckles.
"I wouldn't go <i>that</i> far. I have been quite the ass today."
"Yes, but you apologised, and..." She bites her lip and then she kisses his cheek. He stares at her, open-mouthed. "That's not nothing, Alistair."
"The kiss or the apology?" He asks without thinking.
"Both," she says, blushing nearly as bright as he is.
[[Enjoy the feast]]
[[Kiss her]]"Perhaps," Alistair says, and swallows. "Perhaps we could try it again. The kiss, I mean. To see if it... isn't nothing."
"You're so terrible at flirting," Ara says, as if she's any better. "But - we could try it. The kissing."
There's a moment when Alistair wishes he hadn't suggested it, because as much as he <i>wants</i> to, he has no idea how to - initiate it.
Lucky, then, that Ara does. She smiles up at him and puts a hand to his neck, pulling him gently towards her. Alistair takes a breath and then her lips are on his. She tastes of sweet wine, and her body is a very interesting mix of softness and strength when she takes a step closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. Belatedly he does the same, and as she kisses him again, he thinks that perhaps today hasn't been so bad after all.
They spend the rest of the evening together, sometimes holding hands, occasionally kissing.
And if there are even fewer recruits deigning to talk to him than usual, he barely notices. What does it matter when he has Ara?
[[Tomorrow]]Not quite sure what to make of the kiss and not at all sure he wants to make <i>anything</i> of it, Alistair gestures at the food tables.
"Lets get something to eat," he says, and Ara nods with relief.
"Yes, lets."
The two of them enjoy the night, mingling with the few templar recruits who deem to talk to Alistair.
There's a fair number who sneer at him, as they always do; more than usual, he notes with regret. They will have heard about how he acted with Ser Imra. He has few enough allies as it is, never mind friends. It appears that even with the apology, his time with the templar recruits is about to get lonelier.
That new knowledge casts a shadow over the feast for him.
[[The next day]]The next day, Alistair is called into the Grand Cleric's rooms.
Much as he is loathe to go, he cannot refuse.
When he arrives, both the Grand Cleric and Ser Imra are awaiting him, looking grave, and Alistair dearly wishes to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
"We are very disappointed in you, Alistair," the Grand Cleric tells him. "We expected better. You were given another chance and you acted like a spoiled brat!"
[[Talk back]]
[[Stay silent as she scolds you]]The next day, Alistair is called into the Grand Cleric's rooms.
Much as he is loathe to go, he cannot refuse.
When he arrives, both the Grand Cleric and Ser Imra are awaiting him, looking grave, and Alistair dearly wishes to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
"We are very disappointed in you, Alistair," the Grand Cleric tells him. "We expected better."
[[Let her speak]]
[[Interrupt]]"Can you blame me? You always treat me like I'm a - a stain on your shoe! No matter what I do, you glare at me and tut and chastise me." He should stop, he knows, but it feels good to stand up for himself for once.
"Alistair," Imra says warningly.
[[Heed her warning]]
[[Continue on]]"He did apologise, though," Imra says. "And he meant it, as far as I could tell."
"Hmm," the Grand Cleric says, and looks at him. <i>"Did</i> you mean it?"
[[Yes]]
[[No]]"He did apologise, though," Imra says. "And he meant it, as far as I could tell."
"Hmm," the Grand Cleric says, and looks at him. <i>"Did</i> you mean it?"
[[I did]]
[[I did not]]"Can you blame me? You always treat me like I'm a - a stain on your shoe! No matter what I do, you glare at me and tut and chastise me." He should stop, he knows, but it feels good to stand up for himself for once.
"Alistair," Imra says warningly.
[[Listen to her warning]]
[[Continue On]]"I did," Alistair says. "I - I did a lot of foolish things yesterday. Some of them provoked, but even so. I shouldn't have responded in the way I did."
The Grand Cleric folds her arms and looks at him; Alistair isn't sure if she believes him.
[[Get annoyed with the Grand Cleric]]
[[Hold your tongue]]"You know what?" Alistair says, annoyed at her constant doubting of him, at the way she never has the slightest bit of faith in him. "Maybe I didn't. Maybe I only said it because I'm tired of being treated like I'm a - a stain on your shoe! No matter what I do, you glare at me and tut and chastise me." He should stop, he knows, but it feels good to stand up for himself for once.
"Alistair," Imra says warningly.
[[Heed her warning]]
[[Continue on]]"He speaks the truth, Grand Cleric. Most of the other recruits are not kind to him, and undeservedly so. They rally behind the popular recruits who dislike him, else judge him for an accident of birth."
Alistair wants to add that the Grand Cleric herself is one of the worst of those that are cruel to him, but he holds his tongue and offers Imra a grateful smile.
The Grand Cleric sighs, lips twisting, but before she can say anything, there is a knock at the door.
[[The door opens]]"I - I'm sorry. I am, genuinely. I'm just - it's hard. I feel like I don't have anyone here. No-one to talk to or-" He stops before he can sound even more sorry for himself than he already does.
"If you feel alone, that is your own doing," the Grand Cleric says.
Alistair stares at her, anger curling in his belly. Imra frowns, and opens her mouth, but before she can speak, there is a knock at the door.
[[The door opens]]"No, it's all true, and both of you know it," Alistair says. "It's not fair! I get singled out for things I can't help-"
"You can help being an ungrateful brat," the Grand Cleric says, and Alistair stares at her, his anger souring in his belly. Imra frowns, and opens her mouth, but before she can speak, there is a knock at the door.
[[Imra opens the door]]"I meant the apology, but can you blame me? You always treat me like I'm a - a stain on your shoe! No matter what I do, you glare at me and tut and chastise me." He should stop, he knows, but it feels good to stand up for himself for once.
"Alistair," Imra says warningly.
[[Heed her warning]]
[[Continue on]]As Imra swings open the door, it reveals the Grey Warden, Duncan.
Alistair's eyes widen to see him, though the Grand Cleric's lips thin.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Duncan says, and offers Alistair a smile. "Ah - I'm glad you're here. It was you that I wanted to speak to the Grand Cleric about."
[[Me?]]
[[Oh good, someone else to chastise me]]As Imra swings open the door, it reveals the Grey Warden, Duncan.
Alistair's eyes widen to see him, though the Grand Cleric's lips thin.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Duncan says, and offers Alistair a smile. "Ah - I'm glad you're here. It was you that I wanted to speak to the Grand Cleric about."
[[Me?]]
[[Oh good, someone else to chastise me]]"I - I'm sorry. I am, genuinely. I'm just - it's hard. I feel like I don't have anyone here. No-one to talk to or-" He stops before he can sound even more sorry for himself than he already does.
"If you feel alone, that is your own doing," the Grand Cleric says.
Alistair stares at her, anger curling in his belly. Imra frowns, and opens her mouth, but before she can speak, there is a knock at the door.
[[The Door Opens]]"No, it's all true, and both of you know it," Alistair says. "It's not fair! I get singled out for things I can't help-"
"You can help being an ungrateful brat," the Grand Cleric says, and Alistair stares at her, his anger souring in his belly. Imra frowns, and opens her mouth, but before she can speak, there is a knock at the door.
[[The Door Opens]]As Imra swings open the door, it reveals the Grey Warden, Duncan.
Alistair's eyes widen to see him, though the Grand Cleric's lips thin.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Duncan says, and offers Alistair a smile. "Ah - I'm glad you're here. It was you that I wanted to speak to the Grand Cleric about."
[[About me?]]
[[Someone else to chastise me]]"I did," Alistair says. "I - I did a lot of foolish things yesterday. Some of them provoked, but even so. I shouldn't have responded in the way I did."
The Grand Cleric folds her arms and looks at him; Alistair isn't sure if she believes him.
[[Get Annoyed with the Grand Cleric]]
[[Hold Your Tongue]]"You know what?" Alistair says, annoyed at her constant doubting of him, at the way she never has the slightest bit of faith in him. "Maybe I didn't. Maybe I only said it because I'm tired of being treated like I'm a - a stain on your shoe! No matter what I do, you glare at me and tut and chastise me." He should stop, he knows, but it feels good to stand up for himself for once.
"Alistair," Imra says warningly.
[[Get Annoyed with the Grand Cleric]]
[[Hold Your Tongue]]"I meant the apology, but can you blame me? You always treat me like I'm a - a stain on your shoe! No matter what I do, you glare at me and tut and chastise me." He should stop, he knows, but it feels good to stand up for himself for once.
"Alistair," Imra says warningly.
[[Listen to her warning]]
[[Continue On]]"He speaks the truth, Grand Cleric. Most of the other recruits are not kind to him, and undeservedly so. They rally behind the popular recruits who dislike him, else judge him for an accident of birth."
Alistair wants to add that the Grand Cleric herself is one of the worst of those that are cruel to him, but he holds his tongue and offers Imra a grateful smile.
The Grand Cleric sighs, lips twisting, but before she can say anything, there is a knock at the door.
[[The Door Opens]]"Oh good," Alistair says before he can think better of it. "Someone else to chastise me."
Duncan only chuckles, though the Grand Cleric tuts. "Not at all," Duncan says, then looks closely at him. "I've heard about you, Alistair."
Alistair gives a nervous smile. "Oh?"
"Indeed. That you're a strong warrior, skilled, loyal. And I saw you apologise to Ser Imra in front of your fellow recruits. That takes a strong sense of right and wrong."
[[Thank you]]
[[If you say so]]"Me?" Asks Alistair, staring at the Grey Warden.
"Yes, you. I've heard about you, Alistair."
Alistair gives a nervous smile. "Oh?"
"Indeed. That you're a strong warrior, skilled, loyal. And I saw you apologise to Ser Imra in front of your fellow recruits. That takes a strong sense of right and wrong."
[[Thank you]]
[[If you say so]]"I - I'm sorry. I am, genuinely. I'm just - it's hard. I feel like I don't have anyone here. No-one to talk to or-" He stops before he can sound even more sorry for himself than he already does.
"If you feel alone, that is your own doing," the Grand Cleric says.
Alistair stares at her, anger curling in his belly.
[[Take a breath and apologise]]
[[Lose your temper]]"With resepct, that's not fair, Grand Cleric," Imra says. "Most of the other recruits are unkind to him, and undeservedly so. They rally behind the popular recruits who dislike him; others judge him for an accident of birth."
Alistair wants to add that the Grand Cleric herself is one of the worst of those that are cruel to him, but he holds his tongue.
The Grand Cleric sighs, lips twisting. "Fine. I am unsure if you are worthy of the Templar Order, but I will give you another chance, though I am not sure you deserve it."
[[Thank the Grand Cleric]]
[[I want to leave!]]"You - you are right. I'm sorry. I haven't been acting very honourable. I'll stop making excuses."
"Good," the Grand Cleric says, and bows her head.
"He sees the error of his ways," Imra says, and the Grand Cleric sighs.
"Yes, yes; humility <i>is</i> something we look for in Templars. Very well. I will offer you another chance."
[[Thank the Grand Cleric]]"Good!" Alistair says, glaring at her. "I want to leave! I've never fit in here, and I have little love for the Chantry - and definitely no love for you."
"Alistair!" Ser Imra breathes. "You cannot! All of your training, all of the effort you've put in! Will you truly throw it all away?"
[[I don't care]]
[[Take a breath and apologise]]"Thank you, Grand Cleric," Alistair says, deciding against saying anything further lest he find himself unable to bite his tongue. He is dismissed, and told he will be watched closely.
[[Alistair remains a templar]]"No, it's all true, and both of you know it," Alistair says. "It's not fair! I get singled out for things I can't help-"
"You can help being an ungrateful brat," the Grand Cleric says, and Alistair stares at her, his anger souring in his belly. He opens his mouth again, but she holds up a hand. "Enough! I've had enough of this insolence. I promised your uncle that we would look after you, but I can stand it no longer. You are not fit to be a templar!"
[[I want to leave!]]
[[Take a breath and apologise]]"Why not? I don't want this. I've never wanted it."
"Then you have until noon to gather your things and leave," the Grand Cleric says colding, folding her arms. "Do not return."
Alistair turns without another word.
[[Get your belongings]]Alistair returns to his dormitory, and is glad he doesn't see anyone - not Piotr, not Ara. What would he say to them? All he can feel is anger bubbling in him like boiling water.
Gathering his meagre belongings, he puts them in a pack and then storms out of the Chantry, taking the Grand Cleric's advice: he does not look back.
[[Your fate...]]Alistair tries his hand at many things over the next six months, but he still boils over with anger at his treatment by the Grand Cleric.
Eventually he hears of a battle at Ostagar, where King Cailan - his brother - will be leading an army against the dreaded darkspawn, trying to stop the Blight overcoming Ferelden. He considers joining the battle, briefly, but he doesn't owe Cailan anything more than the Grand Cleric.
Instead he goes to a village called Lothering, and drinks himself into a stupor.
[[A bad end]]By the time the darkspawn horde reaches Lothering, Alistair is too drunk to pick up his sword, and he dies, along with the rest of the village.
Only one Grey Warden survives the battle of Ostagar. She is a young Dalish elf and she is the newest Warden, having completed the Joining only hours before. Without anyone to advise her, without anyone standing by her side, she is quickly overcome.
Without a single Grey Warden to defend Ferelden, it falls.
The Blight is long, and bloody, and terrible. Only the combined might of Orlais, the Free Marches and Nevarra put an end to it. Many heroes are killed: the Fereldan refugee, Hawke, who was making a name for himself in Kirkwall; Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker for the Chantry; Vivienne de Fer, a powerful mage of the Orlesian Court; Dorian Pavus, a Tevinter mage who went south to fight the Blight, because it was the right thing to do.
After fifty years, the archdemon is defeated, and darkspawn flee back to the Deep Roads. The world has paid a terrible price: many thousands of lives, almost all of Ferelden and wide swathes of southern Orlais tainted for years to come, perhaps forever.
Some wonder how things might have been different; all wish that they had been.
But for now, finally, the Fifth Blight is over.
<b>THE END</b>After his warning from the Grand Cleric, Alistair keeps his head down. He ignores Piotr; Ara ignores him. That hurts a little, but he supposes he deserves it.
So he keeps to his studies, and a few months later, he completes the Rites that make him a full Templar. He takes lyrium for the first time, and finds it bitter on his tongue, but the power that floods him is intoxicating.
He is sent, along with a number of other new Templars, to serve in Ferelden's Circle Tower.
[[The Fall of Kinloch Hold]]As a new Templar, Alistair is unprepared when there is an uprising amongst the mages, and he is killed in the blood mages' first attack.
With no-one to help, Knight-Commander Greagoir is forced to enact the Right of Annulment, and all of the mages in the Circle are slaughtered.
[[The Blight]]The world outside the Circle fares little better.
King Cailan, Alistair's brother, leads an army against the darkspawn, trying to stop the Blight before it begins, but he is betrayed, and his army falls to the darkspawn horde.
Only one Grey Warden survives the battle of Ostagar. She is a young Dalish elf and she is the newest Warden, having completed the Joining only hours before. Without anyone to advise her, without anyone standing by her side, she is quickly overcome.
Without a single Grey Warden to defend Ferelden, it falls.
The Blight is long, and bloody, and terrible. Only the combined might of Orlais, the Free Marches and Nevarra put an end to it. Many heroes are killed: the Fereldan refugee, Hawke, who was making a name for himself in Kirkwall; Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker for the Chantry; Vivienne de Fer, a powerful mage of the Orlesian Court; Dorian Pavus, a Tevinter mage who went south to fight the Blight, because it was the right thing to do.
After fifty years, the archdemon is defeated, and darkspawn flee back to the Deep Roads. The world has paid a terrible price: many thousands of lives, almost all of Ferelden and wide swathes of southern Orlais tainted for years to come, perhaps forever.
Some wonder how things might have been different; all wish that they had been.
But for now, finally, the Fifth Blight is over.
<b>THE END</b>"Me?" Asks Alistair, staring at the Grey Warden.
"Yes, you. I've heard about you, Alistair."
Alistair gives a nervous smile. "Oh?"
"Indeed. That you're a strong warrior, skilled, loyal. And I saw you apologise to Ser Imra in front of your fellow recruits. That takes a strong sense of right and wrong."
[["Thank you"]]
[["If you say so"]]"Oh good," Alistair says before he can think better of it. "Someone else to chastise me."
Duncan only chuckles, though the Grand Cleric tuts. "Not at all," Duncan says, then looks closely at him. "I've heard about you, Alistair."
Alistair gives a nervous smile. "Oh?"
"Indeed. That you're a strong warrior, skilled, loyal. And I saw you apologise to Ser Imra in front of your fellow recruits. That takes a strong sense of right and wrong."
[["Thank you"]]
[["If you say so"]]"Thank you," Alistair says. "That's very kind of you, but I'm not sure I deserve it."
"I am. But you seem unhappy here. And from what I've seen, I think that you would find a better fit with the Grey Wardens."
[[What???]]
[[Yes please!]]"If you say so," Alistair says doubtfully.
"I do. But you seem unhappy here. And from what I've seen, I think that you would find a better fit with the Grey Wardens."
[[What???]]
[[Yes please!]]"What?" Alistair asks, blinking at Duncan.
Him, a Grey Warden? He can't imagine it. They are heroes, the stuff of legends. He is just a bastard prince, someone who's never fitted in anywhere, never been accepted. Why would the Wardens want him?
[[The Grand Cleric interrupts]]"Really?" Alistair asks, eyes widening, feeling a hope for his future that he's not felt in years, perhaps ever.
He thinks of the Wardens, great heroes who save the world, defending it from darkspawn and the Blight-
[[The Grand Cleric interrupts]]"Absolutely not!" The Grand Cleric says, and she looks more furious than Alistair has ever seen her. She is leaning on her desk, her hands in white-knuckled fists. "He is a templar recruit, given to the Chantry by Arl Eamon! This is not some - some marketplace for you to rifle through, trying to find something to your liking!"
"Yet the Grey Wardens have the right of conscription, Grand Cleric," Duncan says, his calmness making him regal compared to the Grand Cleric's fury. "With all respect, you cannot stop me - if he wishes to join our ranks."
Both of them look at him, Cleric and Warden, and taking a breath, Alistair makes his choice.
[[Join the Wardens]]
[[Stay with the templars]]"I want to join the Wardens."
The Grand Cleric looks furious, but Duncan smiles at him, and so does Ser Imra, though she hides it behind her hand.
"Then leave," the Grand Cleric spits. "You have until noon and then I never want to see you again, either of you."
Duncan nods gravely, and leads Alistair out of her chambers.
"Gather your things," Duncan tells him. And meet me outside as the clocktower strikes noon."
[[Go with Duncan]]"I've been with the templars for years," Alistair says, shrugging. "I might as well stay with them."
Duncan raises his eyebrows; Alistair tries to ignore the vicious victory on the Grand Cleric's face. "As you wish, Alistair," he says, and nods to him. "Then may the Maker smile upon your choice."
He leaves as quickly as he arrived, and the Grand Cleric looks at Alistair.
"You made the right choice," she says, and she looks at him approvingly for perhaps the first time since he arrived.
[[Alistair becomes a templar]]And so Alistair keeps to his studies, and a few months later, he completes the Rites that make him a full Templar. He takes lyrium for the first time, and finds it bitter on his tongue, but the power it floods him with is intoxicating.
He is sent, along with a number of other new Templars, to serve in Ferelden's Circle Tower.
[[The Fall of the Circle Tower]]As a new Templar, Alistair is unprepared when there is an uprising amongst the mages, and he is killed in the blood mages' first attack.
With no-one to help, Knight-Commander Greagoir is forced to enact the Right of Annulment, and all of the mages in the Circle are slaughtered.
[[The Fifth Blight]]The world outside the Circle fares little better.
King Cailan, Alistair's brother, leads an army against the darkspawn, trying to stop the Blight before it begins, but he is betrayed, and his army falls to the darkspawn horde.
Only one Grey Warden survives the battle of Ostagar. She is a young Dalish elf and she is the newest Warden, having completed the Joining only hours before. Without anyone to advise her, without anyone standing by her side, she is quickly overcome.
Without a single Grey Warden to defend Ferelden, it falls.
The Blight is long, and bloody, and terrible. Only the combined might of Orlais, the Free Marches and Nevarra put an end to it. Many heroes are killed: the Fereldan refugee, Hawke, who was making a name for himself in Kirkwall; Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker for the Chantry; Vivienne de Fer, a powerful mage of the Orlesian Court; Dorian Pavus, a Tevinter mage who went south to fight the Blight, because it was the right thing to do.
After fifty years, the archdemon is defeated, and darkspawn flee back to the Deep Roads. The world has paid a terrible price: many thousands of lives, almost all of Ferelden and wide swathes of southern Orlais tainted for years to come, perhaps forever.
Some wonder how things might have been different; all wish that they had been.
But for now, finally, the Fifth Blight is over.
<b>THE END</b>The Joining itself is a terrifying ritual - first, they have to kill a darkspawn and take some of its blood. Second, they have to <i>drink</i> it, once it's been added to some magical potion. Third, and worst of all, one of the fellow recruits doesn't make it, overcome by the taint.
But Alistair survives.
He is a Grey Warden.
[[Ostagar]]It's been so very many years since the last Blight, that Alistair would never have expected to see one.
Just his luck that after only six months, there are whispers that the Fifth Blight has begun.
Things happen quickly after that, and soon Alistair finds himself at Ostagar, ready to face the darkspawn horde - although perhaps <i>ready</i> is overstating it a little.
The army is to be led by King Cailan, and Alistair is a little startled to see his brother up close for the first time in many years. They look alike, is his first thought - Cailan is paler, and looks more like their father, but there's no denying that they're related. For a moment he wonders what it would have been like to grow up as brothers, and feels a pang for something he can't quite name.
[[The Battle Begins]]
There are only two Grey Wardens now, in the whole of Ferelden, and Alistair is grateful when his companion takes charge.
But what can two Wardens do against the might of the Blight, especially when Ferelden is on the verge of civil war?
As they sit at the campfire, though, Alistair looks at his fellow Grey Warden and feels a surge of hope.
Together, then can overcome anything, even the Blight.
He's sure of it.
<b>CONTINUED IN <a href="http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Dragon_Age:_Origins">Dragon Age: Origins</a></b>"Thank you," Alistair says. "That's very kind of you, but I'm not sure I deserve it."
"I am. But you seem unhappy here. And from what I've seen, I think that you would find a better fit with the Grey Wardens."
[[What??]]
[[Yes please!!]]
[[But... Ara]]"If you say so," Alistair says doubtfully.
"I do. But you seem unhappy here. And from what I've seen, I think that you would find a better fit with the Grey Wardens."
[[What??]]
[[Yes please!!]]
[[But... Ara]] "What?" Alistair asks, blinking at Duncan.
Perhaps he should be thinking of the Grey Wardens - heroes, the stuff of legends - and how he can't imagine himself amongst them.
But all he can think of is Ara.
[[The Grand Cleric interrupts them]]"What?" Alistair asks, blinking at Duncan.
Him, a Grey Warden? He can't imagine it. They are heroes, the stuff of legends. He is just a bastard prince, someone who's never fitted in anywhere, never been accepted. Why would the Wardens want him?
[[The Grand Cleric interrupts them]]"Really?" Alistair asks, eyes widening, feeling a hope for his future that he's not felt in years, perhaps ever.
He thinks of the Wardens, great heroes who save the world, defending it from darkspawn and the Blight-
[[The Grand Cleric interrupts them]]"Absolutely not!" The Grand Cleric says, and she looks more furious than Alistair has ever seen her. She is leaning on her desk, her hands in white-knuckled fists. "He is a templar recruit, given to the Chantry by Arl Eamon! This is not some - some marketplace for you to rifle through, trying to find something to your liking!"
"Yet the Grey Wardens have the right of conscription, Grand Cleric," Duncan says, his calmness making him regal compared to the Grand Cleric's fury. "With all respect, you cannot stop me - if he wishes to join our ranks."
Both of them look at him, Cleric and Warden, and taking a breath, Alistair makes his choice.
[[Decide to join the Wardens]]
[[Decide to stay with the templars]]"I want to join the Wardens."
The Grand Cleric looks furious, but Duncan smiles at him, and so does Ser Imra, though she hides it behind her hand.
"Then leave," the Grand Cleric spits. "You have until noon and then I never want to see you again, either of you."
Duncan nods gravely, and leads Alistair out of her chambers.
"Gather your things," Duncan tells him. And meet me outside as the clocktower strikes noon."
[[Saying goodbye]]"I've been with the templars for years," Alistair says, shrugging with an ease he doesn't feel. He <i>has</i> been with the templars for years, but he's thinking about Ara - about her kiss, about her smile. If he joins the Wardens, he loses that, loses her, and he isn't sure he can bear it. "I might as well stay with them."
Duncan raises his eyebrows; Alistair tries to ignore the vicious victory on the Grand Cleric's face. "As you wish, Alistair," he says, and nods to him. "Then may the Maker smile upon your choice."
He leaves as quickly as he arrived, and the Grand Cleric looks at Alistair.
"You made the right choice," she says, and she looks at him approvingly for perhaps the first time since he arrived.
[[Alistair stays a templar]]Alistair doesn't have many belongings, and they're easy to fit in a single pack. He says his goodbyes, such as they are.
Ara is the only one he really wants to say goodbye to, and she looks at him so sadly as he stands before her, holding her hands.
"You're really leaving?" She asks softly, looking up at him before looking away. "You're leaving me?"
"I'm sorry," Alistair says, and he means it - he's not sure if things could have worked out between them, but it might have been something. It might have been special. But his choice has been made, and so he kisses her gently. "Goodbye, Ara. Luck to you, always."
"Maker watch over you," she says, squeezing his hands and stepping back.
[[Leave with Duncan]]Alistair watches as Ara turns and leaves, then sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and praying he's made the right choice, before going to meet Duncan.
The two of them set off. The other Wardens are camped a few days' journey away. As they walk, Duncan tells him about the Wardens, and Alistair is enraptured. But it isn't just the tales of heroism. As they walk, he slowly realises that he is really and truly free of the Chantry; that he doesn't have to go back, ever, and he feels a great weight drop away.
As soon as they reach the Wardens' camp, he instantly feels a companionship to them that he never felt with the templar recruits. There's still a little distance, but Alistair assumes that's because he hasn't gone through the Joining yet.
[[The Joining]]And so Alistair keeps to his studies, and he keeps kissing Ara. Shockingly, she keeps kissing him back. The night before they are to complete the Rites that will make them full templars, they make love, and Alistair has never in his life been happier.
And so he completes the Rites with a smile, feeling that he has made the right choice. He takes lyrium for the first time, and finds it bitter on his tongue, but the power that floods him is intoxicating.
At first he is afraid that he and Ara will be seperated, but he's delighted that they're both to serve in Ferelden's Circle Tower.
[[The Tower Falls]]As new Templars, Alistair and Ara are unprepared when there is an uprising amongst the mages. He sacrifices himself to save her during the blood mages' first attack.
With no-one to help, Knight-Commander Greagoir is forced to enact the Right of Annulment, and all of the mages in the Circle are slaughtered.
Ara survives, but she becomes bitter and cold, missing Alistair every day of her life.
[[The Fifth Blight]]"The recruits will show their mettle against the templars in one on one combat," Ser Imra says. "Let the tourney begin with a match between Ser Tain and the recruit Piotr!"
Alistair is relieved that he isn't the first one to fight, though he isn't sure he's happy that Piotr is. If he does well, his grandstanding will set a poor tone for the tourney.
[[Piotr vs Tain]]Ser Tain is a rogue who uses daggers; Piotr uses a two-handed axe. It will be a contest of speed versus strength.
The contest starts with Ser Tain drawing her daggers, and smiling mockingly: a challenge Piotr is too foolish to ignore. He swings his heavy axe, and Tain easily darts out of range, slipping behind him to slam the hilt of her dagger in his neck.
Piotr cries out and staggers forward, twisting to bring a gauntlet up to defend against Tain's slashing blades.
Everything happens quickly after that; Piotr is hopelessly overmatched and a few quick jabs from Tain's dagger has him dropping the axe and falling to his knees.
"Do you yield?" She asks, and rarely has Alistair heard a sweeter sound than Piotr glaring at her, spitting out blood and saying,
"I yield."
A great roar of applause goes up amongst the crowd, none louder than Alistair as Piotr storms off the field.
[[You're up]]Ser Imra thanks Ser Tain, and Alistair sees one of the other trainers go after Piotr; he quickly returns without him, shaking his head, and Imra's lips thin.
Not a real surprise, Alistair thinks, that Piotr is such a bad sport.
"Next will be Ser Eryhn against recruit Alistair," she says, and though he knew it was coming, he still feels a stab of nerves. He nods at Eryhn, and she nods back, as they step forward to face each other.
[[Raise your shield]]
[[Raise your sword]]Eryhn is clearly a powerful fighter, so Alistair decides it's best to play the defensive.
He raises his shield as she draws her greatsword, a two-handed beast that is near as long as he is tall. She wields it as easily as he does his longsword and he swallows, amazed and a little afraid of her strength.
She comes at him, swinging that beast of a sword with ease and it slams into his shield, making him stagger back and making his arm throb. Maker - even with the armour and the sheild, she nearly broke his arm!
[[Shield bash]]
[[Strike with your sword]]Eryhn is clearly a powerful fighter, but Alistair grits his teeth and raises his sword as she draws her greatsword, a two-handed beast that is near as long as he is tall. She wields it as easily as he does his longsword and he swallows, amazed and a little afraid of her strength.
She comes at him, swinging that beast of a sword with ease and he meets her blow but staggers backwards. Maker's breath, that <i>hurt</i>! His whole arm is throbbing.
[[Strike with your sword]]
[[Shield bash]]Alistair raises his shield and rushes in, trying to hit her with it. He connects, but it's like running straight into a mountain. He thinks he hears her chuckle, right before she pushes back at him and he loses his footing, falling backwards.
The next thing he knows he's on his back with a sword at his throat, and she says, "Do you yeild?"
Alistair stares up at her, breathing hard, astonished at how quickly he was defeated.
[[Yield]]
[[Storm off the field]]Alistair strikes at her with his sword, but she meets his blow with as easily as she would an attack from a puppy. He tries again, thinking he'll have a speed advantage thanks to his lighter sword and armour, but she is astonishingly fast despite the greater weight.
She shrugs off the blows he rains down on her, and then in one move disarms him.
He raises his shield instead, intending to use it as a weapon, rushing in and trying to hit her with it. He connects, but it's like running straight into a mountain. He thinks he hears her chuckle, right before she pushes back at him and he loses his footing falling backwards.
The next thing he knows he's on his back with a sword at his throat, and she says, "Do you yeild?"
Alistair stares up at her, breathing hard, astonished at how quickly he was defeated.
[[Yield]]
[[Storm off the field]]"I - I yield," he says, breathless, and she nods, offering him a hand up.
He collects his sword and shield, checking them before taking his place amongst the recruits, ready for his next fight.
As the tourney continues, he's glad to see that he isn't the only one defeated so quickly. Two more recruits go down just as fast. A third, Eirik, is noble born and has been taught to fight since he was a toddler. He does well enough against Ser Tain, though Tain mostly takes the blows until she disarms Eirik in seconds, and Alistair is fairly sure she could've won the battle at any time.
And then it is Alistair's turn again, this time to face Ser Talrew.
[[Offensive]]
[[Defensive]]Alistair looks out at his fellow recruits, some of whom are snickering at him, nudging each other to ensure all of them have seen his shame.
He feels his cheeks redden, and thinks of how <i>sure</i> he was that he would win at least something today. It's not <i>fair</i> that he's had to face the fiercest fighters!
He yields only because he has to, and when he stands, he storms off the field towards the tent.
"Alistair!" Ser Imra calls after him. "Get back here!"
He shakes his head and continues towards the tent.
"Alistair, please," she says. "Don't do this."
He doesn't listen.
[[Take a seat]]After taking off his armour and ignoring the looks from those in the tent, Alistair takes a seat in the crowd to watch the rest of the tourney. No doubt he'll face repercussions for his actions, but right now he doesn't care to think about that.
[[The tourney continues]]After bowing to each other, they raise their weapons, Alistair his longsword, and Talrew his twin daggers. They're nasty looking things, thin and sharp, made to slide between armour plates. Not much for defense, but Alistair has already seen Talrew take down one of his fellow recruits - he's fast, incredibly so, enough that he rarely needs to use a dagger to intercept a blade. He's smart, too, a master of tactics after battling the Chasind for so long.
Alistair decides that offense is the best tactic here. He can't beat the man with speed, but he has strength and weight on his side.
He feints an attack to the left, then swings his sword from the right. Talrew grins at him as he ducks aside, and then pivots to swing his blade up at Alistair's face before he's recovered his footing. With a yelp Alistair staggers backwards and only just manages to stay on his feet.
[[Use the shield]]
[[Swing your sword]]After bowing to each other, they raise their weapons, Alistair his longsword, and Talrew his twin daggers. They're nasty looking things, thin and sharp, made to slide between armour plates. Not much for defense, but Alistair has already seen Talrew take down one of his fellow recruits - he's fast, incredibly so, enough that he rarely needs to use a dagger to intercept a blade. He's smart, too, a master of tactics after battling the Chasind for so long.
Alistair decides that defense is the best tactic here. He can't beat the man with speed, but he has strength and stamina on his side. Perhaps by fighting offensively he can tire the man out, or perhaps spot a weakness.
He raises his shield, longsword at the ready should he need it - just in time!
Talrew rains blows on his shield, lightning fast, with surprising force. Alistair finds himself driven back towards the crowd and has to pivot before he staggers into the audience.
[[Use the shield]]
[[Swing your sword]]Feeling pressed already, Alistair rushes with his shield, and manages to hit Talrew, making him stagger back. That gets him a respectful look from Talrew before he renews his own attack.
Alistair finds there's little he can do other than meet as many blows as he can with his sword and shield, trying to stop the daggers hitting his body and finding his armour's weak points. Though they are not here to kill or even to injure, he would rather not succumb to accidental injury.
He manages to get another hit with his sword against Talrew, only to be hit, hard, in the elbow, right at the point that it hurts the most. With a cry Alistair drops his weapon - <i>no!</i> - and in moments Talrew sweeps his legs from under him and Alistair finds himself on his back, again.
[[Yield to him]]
[[Storm off the field]]Feeling pressed already, Alistair swings his sword, and grazes Talrew's armour. That gets him a respectful look from Talrew before he renews his own attack.
Alistair finds there's little he can do other than meet as many blows as he can with his sword and shield, trying to stop the daggers hitting his body and finding his armour's weak points. Though they are not here to kill or even to injure, he would rather not succumb to accidental injury.
He manages to get another hit with his sword against Talrew's armour, only to be hit, hard, in the elbow, right at the point that it hurts the most. With a cry Alistair drops his weapon - <i>no!</i> - and in moments Talrew sweeps his legs from under him and Alistair finds himself on his back, again.
[[Yield to him]]
[[Storm off the field]]Alistair swallows, frustrated to have lost a second match, but he yields. Talrew helps him to his feet and hands him his sword.
"Well fought, recruit," he says with a nod, and Alistair feels a ripple of pride as he takes his place amongst the recruits once more.
There are several more fights than end quickly, to the templar's victory. And then recruit Ulla wins a match! The crowd roars and she grins at them, raising a dagger in victory. Alistair knows her a little; she had been a thief as a child, stealing food and coin to survive before the Chantry took her in, she's an outsider as much as he is. She's also the fastest fighter Alistair's ever seen, and he isn't surprised by her victory. They share a grin as she takes her place once more.
Another win follows, a silent, stoic fellow who is near the end of his training, who only nods to his opponent and ignores the cheers of the crowd completely.
[[Your turn again]]Alistair's name is called again, and as he steps forward, he feels good about his chances - after all, two of his fellow recruits have won, why not him?
That is, until Ser Kalvin's name is also called. He is an older man, in his fifties, but Alistair isn't fool enough to think that being younger will give him any sort of advantage. Kalvin is known throughout Ferelden - he has fought every force that has pitted themselves against the country, and he was a hero of the war that brought Alistair's father to the throne. A veteren, still strong and fierce, and as he looks at Alistair, his eyes narrow. Alistair wonders if he ever met Maric; if he did, perhaps recognises a shade of the king in his bastard son - Alistair has been told the resemblance is quite keen.
Whether he does or not, it doesn't stop him from drawing his sword, a beautiful, shining dragonbone blade.
[[Fight offensively]]
[[Fight defensively]]<i>I might still win,</i> Alistair thinks to himself, glancing over at Ulla, who nods encouragingly.
When he turns back to Kalvin, the man looks at him impassively, standing stock-still, blade raised, but he doesn't move.
Clenching his jaw, Alistair decides to make the first move. Swinging his sword, Kalvin meets it with his own blade easily, and the contact vibrates oddly, making Alistair shudder. The dragonbone, he thinks - it has strange properties, he's been told about them in class.
But before he can recall those properties, Kalvin moves - easily, graceful but powerful, and swings his blade towards Alistair.
[[Meet with your sword]]
[[Meet with your shield]]<i>I might still win,</i> Alistair thinks to himself, glancing over at Ulla, who nods encouragingly.
When he turns back to Kalvin, the man looks at him impassively, standing stock-still, blade raised, but he doesn't move.
Alistair raises his shield, not foolhardy enough to make the first move against a man like this. It means that for a long moment, they are doing nothing but staring at each other, and within seconds the impatient crowd is booing them.
<i>Damn it,</i> Alistair thinks as his imptience gets the better of him and he swings his sword. Kalvin meets it with his own blade easily, and the contact vibrates oddly, making Alistair shudder. The dragonbone, he thinks - it has strange properties, he's been told about them in class.
But before he can recall those properties, Kalvin moves - easily, graceful but powerful, and swings his blade towards Alistair.
[[Meet with your sword]]
[[Meet with your shield]]Alistair raises his sword to meet Kalvin's blow-
And the dragonbone blade snaps his own in half as easily as if it were made of glass.
While Alistair stares, startled, at two feet of his own blade on the ground, movement in his peripheral vision makes him bring his shield up protectively. The shield takes it but the blow makes his arm ache, both from the force of it and from that strange vibration from the dragonbone.
Alistair tries to bash Kalvin with the shield, but all he gets is another blow from the sword, the vibration bad enough that he can't feel his arm any more. He tries to keep the shield up to protect himself, but one more bit and it's completely numb, dropping uselessly to his side. The instant it falls, the tip of the dragonbone blade is at his throat.
"Yield," Kalvin says.
[[Yield once more]]
[[Storm off the field]]Alistair raises his shield to meet Kalvin's blow, wincing at the way the dragonbone makes it vibrate, then has to raise his sword to fend off another blow-
And the dragonbone blade snaps his own in half as easily as if it were made of glass.
While Alistair stares, startled, at two feet of his own blade on the ground, movement in his peripheral vision makes him bring his shield up protectively. The shield takes it but the blow makes his arm ache, both from the force of it and from that strange vibration from the dragonbone.
Alistair tries to bash Kalvin with the shield, but all he gets is another blow from the sword, the vibration bad enough that he can't feel his arm any more. He tries to keep the shield up to protect himself, but one more bit and it's completely numb, dropping uselessly to his side. The instant it falls, the tip of the dragonbone blade is at his throat.
"Yield," Kalvin says.
[[Yield once more]]
[[Storm off the field]]"I yield," Alistair says, and Kalvin nods curtly.
"Remember that your opponents may have advantages you don't," he tells him, lifting his shining sword. "But always remember that the opposite is also true. Still - well fought. Your father would be proud of you, I'm sure. Whoever he is," Kalvin adds with a tight smile, and Alistair is certain he knows exactly who his father is - though he doubts Maric would ever be proud of him.
With his useless arm and his blade broken, he is told to take a seat with the others who've been injured, some of them bandaged, some of them being examined by a medic.
Perhaps he should be upset to be removed from the field, but he's glad: three defeats are enough for one day.
He watches the rest of the fights. Ulla wins one more battle, but then she is put against Ser Kalvin and suffers the same fate as Alistair, and takes a seat with her numb arm. There is one more victory, but six other battles result in the recruits defeated.
And then it is over.
[[The Tourney Ends]]The tourney ends with a speech from Ser Imra and then from the Grand Cleric, before the recruits are dismissed to take off the armour.
"Good job, Ulla," Alistair tells her as she removes her helmet, and she smiles at him.
"And you, Alistair."
"Me? I didn't win anything."
"No, but you held your own and you didn't give up. That's better than most."
Indeed, there are a few congratulations sent his way from some of the other recruits who fought, and he congratulates them back. Not many of them won, but they all fought with honour.
[[The celebration]]After the fighters are washed and in clean clothes, they head to the celebration - a great feast for the recruits and the templars, and for the townsfolk too.
There are long tables set out with food and ale, and there are people everywhere. A cheer goes up as the recruit fighters join everyone else, and the templars clap for them as well. Alistair smiles, feeling a little uncomfortable at all the eyes on him, especially when he knows that tomorrow, the other recruits will go back to ignoring him or worse.
He notices that the Warden-Commander in particular seems interested, and even makes a move towards him, but before he can, the Grand Cleric intercepts him. Alistair finds that he's glad; he could do with a few moments alone, just him and a mug of ale.
[[The moment doesn't last]]Not quite sure what to make of the kiss and not at all sure he wants to make <i>anything</i> of it, Alistair gestures at the food tables.
"Lets get something to eat," he says, and Ara nods with relief.
"Yes, lets."
The two of them enjoy the night, mingling with the other templar recruits - more than usual deem to talk to Alistair, and even the templars come to congratulate him, or to give advice.
The popularity unnerves him a little, but it also makes him feel proud. There's a moment where he lets himself wonder if Ser Kalvin might have been right - if Maric would have been proud of him, after all. He's glad when Ulla comes up to talk to him, taking his mind off it. He isn't sure whether he would even want Maric's approval.
Instead he spends the evening with his friends, few though they are; with good food and good ale, and for tonight at least, that is enough.
[[A New Day]]
As she pulls back, smiling shyly, Alistair licks his lips.
"That was - nice," Alistair says, and swallows. "Perhaps we could try it again. The kiss, I mean. If you wanted to."
"You're so terrible at flirting," Ara says, as if she's any better. "But - we could try it. The kissing."
There's a moment when Alistair wishes he hadn't suggested it, because as much as he <i>wants</i> to, he has no idea how to - initiate it.
Lucky, then, that Ara does. She smiles up at him and puts a hand to his neck, pulling him gently towards her. Alistair takes a breath and then her lips are on his. She tastes of sweet wine, and her body is a very interesting mix of softness and strength when she takes a step closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. Belatedly he does the same, and as she kisses him again, he thinks that perhaps today hasn't been so bad after all.
They spend the rest of the evening together, sometimes holding hands, occasionally kissing.
Far more recruits come to talk to him than usual, templars too, but he barely notices. What does it matter when he has Ara?
[[A new day]]The next day, Alistair is called into the Grand Cleric's rooms.
Since he doesn't have any choice, he goes, but he's filled with dread. Has she changed her mind - is he to be punished after all?
When he gets there, he's startled to see that she is not alone. Ser Imra stands with her, but of more interest is the Warden-Commander, who smiles warmly when he sees Alistair. It is a contrast with the thin-lipped scowl that the Grand Cleric turns on him.
"It seems that your actions yesterday attracted the notice of Warden-Commander Duncan," she says.
"They - they did?"
[[Duncan explains]]The next day, Alistair is called into the Grand Cleric's rooms.
Since he doesn't have any choice, he goes, but he's filled with dread. Has she changed her mind - is he to be punished after all?
When he gets there, he's startled to see that she is not alone. Ser Imra stands with her, but of more interest is the Warden-Commander, who smiles warmly when he sees Alistair. It is a contrast with the thin-lipped scowl that the Grand Cleric turns on him.
"It seems that your actions yesterday attracted the notice of Warden-Commander Duncan," she says.
"They - they did?"
[[Duncan Explains]]"Yes," Duncan says. "You fought well, Alistair."
"I lost every fight I was in."
"You still fought well. Moreover, you showed loyalty, courage, and I think, too, that you have a good heart."
"Wow. I think that might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"It's true. But you seem unhappy here. And from what I've seen, I think that you would find a better fit with the Grey Wardens."
[[You're kidding, right]]
[[I would? I mean, I would!]]"Really?" Alistair asks, eyes widening, feeling a hope for his future that he's not felt in years, perhaps ever.
He thinks of the Wardens, great heroes who save the world, defending it from darkspawn and the Blight-
[[The Grand Cleric Interrupts]]"What?" Alistair asks, blinking at Duncan.
Him, a Grey Warden? He can't imagine it. They are heroes, the stuff of legends. He is just a bastard prince, someone who's never fitted in anywhere, never been accepted. Why would the Wardens want him?
[[The Grand Cleric Interrupts]]"Absolutely not!" The Grand Cleric says, and she looks more furious than Alistair has ever seen her. She is leaning on her desk, her hands in white-knuckled fists. "He is a templar recruit, given to the Chantry by Arl Eamon! This is not some - some marketplace for you to rifle through, trying to find something to your liking!"
"Yet the Grey Wardens have the right of conscription, Grand Cleric," Duncan says, his calmness making him regal compared to the Grand Cleric's fury. "With all respect, you cannot stop me - if he wishes to join our ranks."
Both of them look at him, Cleric and Warden, and taking a breath, Alistair makes his choice.
[[Join the Wardens]]
[[Stay with the templars]]"Yes," Duncan says. "You fought well, Alistair."
"I lost every fight I was in."
"You still fought well. Moreover, you showed loyalty, courage, and I think, too, that you have a good heart."
"Wow. I think that might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"It's true. But you seem unhappy here. And from what I've seen, I think that you would find a better fit with the Grey Wardens."
[[You're joking, right]]
[[I would? I mean, yes, definitely!]]
[[But - Ara]]"What?" Alistair asks, blinking at Duncan.
Him, a Grey Warden? He can't imagine it. They are heroes, the stuff of legends. He is just a bastard prince, someone who's never fitted in anywhere, never been accepted. Why would the Wardens want him?
[[The Grand Cleric Isn't Happy]]"Really?" Alistair asks, eyes widening, feeling a hope for his future that he's not felt in years, perhaps ever.
He thinks of the Wardens, great heroes who save the world, defending it from darkspawn and the Blight-
[[The Grand Cleric Isn't Happy]]"What?" Alistair asks, blinking at Duncan.
Perhaps he should be thinking of the Grey Wardens - heroes, the stuff of legends - and how he can't imagine himself amongst them.
But all he can think of is Ara.
[[The Grand Cleric Isn't Happy]]"Absolutely not!" The Grand Cleric says, and she looks more furious than Alistair has ever seen her. She is leaning on her desk, her hands in white-knuckled fists. "He is a templar recruit, given to the Chantry by Arl Eamon! This is not some - some marketplace for you to rifle through, trying to find something to your liking!"
"Yet the Grey Wardens have the right of conscription, Grand Cleric," Duncan says, his calmness making him regal compared to the Grand Cleric's fury. "With all respect, you cannot stop me - if he wishes to join our ranks."
Both of them look at him, Cleric and Warden, and taking a breath, Alistair makes his choice.
[[Decide to join the Wardens]]
[[Decide to stay with the templars]]Alistair doesn't have many belongings, and they're easy to fit in a single pack. He says his goodbyes, such as they are, and with a pang, realises he will miss Ara. Then goes to meet Duncan, and the two of them set off.
The other Wardens are camped a few days' journey away. As they walk, Duncan tells him about the Wardens, and Alistair is enraptured. But it isn't just the tales of heroism. As they walk, he slowly realises that he is really and truly free of the Chantry; that he doesn't have to go back, ever, and he feels a great weight drop away.
As soon as they reach the Wardens' camp, he instantly feels a companionship to them that he never felt with the templar recruits. There's still a little distance, but Alistair assumes that's because he hasn't gone through the Joining yet.
[[The Joining]]But then Duncan returns with a handful of new recruits, and Alistair has no time for wondering.
Alistair helps guide them through the Joining, but only one survives. On Cailan's orders, Alistair is sent along with the new Warden to light a beacon to summon the rest of the army, but the army does not come.
King Cailan is betrayed - and he, and Duncan, and all the other Grey Wardens, are slaughtered by the horde.
[[A future?]]
A few moments is all he gets; Ara weaves between the crowd to come up to him.
"Congratulations! You were amazing," she says, and then bites her lip for a moment before she kisses his cheek.
[[I don't know about that]]
[[Kiss her properly]]Despite that, he found solace in the training, in discipline, in refining body and mind. He learned to fight, he learned history and religion. He learned the templar arts, both mundane and mystical.
As he grew he became a warrior, and some even respected his skills, though few ever let that be known. He remained lonely, cast out by those who should be like family.
Until one day, word arrived that the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden was to visit the Chantry.
A tourney was announced in his honour, and Alistair volunteered to take part...
[[The day begins]]Filling a plate, Alistair sits at the end of a long table with those recruits who are almost friends.
One of them, Ara, a strong, pretty young woman with smooth brown skin and black curls, is perhaps the only recruit Alistair would call a real friend. She looks up at him and opens her mouth, but before she can speak, a voice booms,
"Alistair! Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself?" It is Piotr, a year older, near to taking his vows. He is strong rather than skilled, but sometimes strength alone wins a fight and it's made him arrogant. Alistair does not like him. "Do you really think you can win today?"
[[Ignore him]]
[[Stand up for yourself]]Piotr swings for him but Alistair deflects. While he's distracted, two of Piotr's toadies grab his arms, pinning him as Piotr slams a fist into his stomach. Pain blooms red and Alistair cries out, trying and failing to pull away from the arms holding him.
"What is the meaning of this?" A voice cries out.
The Grand Cleric stands in the doorway, furious, and the arms holding Alistair release him.
[[Say that Piotr started it]]
[[Say Piotr deserved it]]"Piotr said-"
"Silence," the Grand Cleric says. "The evidence speaks for itself, Alistair. You are to stay in your rooms for the rest of the day, and you are barred from taking part in the tourney."
"But it's true," Ara says, standing. "Piotr did start it. He always does." She looks around at the others, encouraging them to speak up, but no-one raises their voice. "He insulted me," she says. "Alistair was just defending my honour - not that I need his help," she says. "But still. He shouldn't be punished."
The Grand Cleric sighs, and rubs her eyes. "You would have to start this today of all days. Fine. He can watch, but he is still barred from taking part."
"But-" Alistair starts, but Ara jabs him in the side and glares at him. Alistair's jaw snaps shut. She's right; if he says anything, he'll only make things worse for himself.
[[The Grand Cleric leaves]]
Seeing that the situation has been resolved, the Grand Cleric tells those that are to take part in the tourney to be on the field by noon, before leaving.
When she is gone, Piotr steps forward, close enough that his chest is almost touching Alistair's. "Your beating will have to wait until after the tourney, bastard, but know that it is coming," he says, before storming off, his coterie following behind.
[[Storm off yourself]]
[[Say thanks to Ara]]"But-!"
"You will be grateful to be allowed to watch."
"Yes, Grand Cleric," Alistair whispers, still glaring at that patch of floor.
Seeing that the situation has been resolved, the Grand Cleric tells those that are to take part in the tourney to be on the field by noon, before leaving.
When she is gone, Piotr steps forward, close enough that his chest is almost touching Alistair's. "Your beating will have to wait until after the tourney, bastard, but know that it is coming," he says, before storming off, his coterie following behind.
[[Storm off yourself]]
[[Say thanks to Ara]]
The Grand Cleric sighs, and rubs her eyes. "You would have to start this today of all days. Fine. You can watch, but you are still barred from taking part."
"But-" Alistair starts, but Ara jabs him in the side and glares at him. Alistair's jaw snaps shut. She's right; if he says anything, he'll only make things worse for himself.
Seeing that the situation has been resolved, the Grand Cleric tells those that are to take part in the tourney to be on the field by noon, before leaving.
When she is gone, Piotr steps forward, close enough that his chest is almost touching Alistair's. "Your beating will have to wait until after the tourney, bastard, but know that it is coming," he says, before storming off, his coterie following behind.
[[Storm off yourself]]
[[Say thanks to Ara]]Anger batters at Alistair, but he takes a breath and sits down, returning to his breakfast.
"I'm sorry she stopped you from entering the tourney," Ara says. "I know you were looking forward to it."
He looks at her, and sees her frowning, looking down at her hands, which are clasped on the table.
"I was, but... Well. I shouldn't have let me temper get the better of me. Thank you for standing up for me."
"Anytime," she says, and looks at him with a bright smile.
[[Flirt With Her]]
[[Say Something Friendly]]
[[Go to class]]"Anytime, hmm? I bet you say that to all the boys."
She shakes her head, and unless he's very much mistaken, he thinks he sees a touch of rose on her cheeks. "Only you, Alistair."
They look at each other for a moment, until the bell for morning class rings, breaking - whatever that was.
"I - I'd best go, I'll see you later," she says, and gives him a smile before hurrying away.
Alistair watches her go with a smile of his own.
[[Go to class]] "I mean, we've got to stick together, right?" He says. "Us - us non-horrible recruits?"
She chuckles, and grins at him. "Non-horrible?"
"You know. Uh. Non-Piotr-aligned."
"Ahhh yes, of course. Which would make us - what, Alistair-aligned?"
"Maker, no. We're - independent agents."
"I like the sound of that." The bell for morning classes rings, and she claps his shoulder. "I'll see you later, Alistair."
[[Go to class]] "Anytime, hmm? I bet you say that to all the boys."
She shakes her head, and unless he's very much mistaken, he thinks he sees a touch of rose on her cheeks. "Only you, Alistair."
They look at each other for a moment, until the bell for morning class rings, breaking - whatever that was.
"I - I'd best go, I'll see you later," she says, and gives him a smile before hurrying away.
Alistair watches her go with a smile of his own.
[[Head to class]] "I mean, we've got to stick together, right?" He says. "Us - us non-horrible recruits?"
She chuckles, and grins at him. "Non-horrible?"
"You know. Uh. Non-Piotr-aligned."
"Ahhh yes, of course. Which would make us - what, Alistair-aligned?"
"Maker, no. We're - independent agents."
"I like the sound of that." The bell for morning classes rings, and she claps his shoulder. "I'll see you later, Alistair."
[[Head to class]] Once upon a time, Maric Theirin, the rightful king of Ferelden, reclaimed his country from invaders. He lived happily enough, for a while, though rebuilding his homeland was hard, harder even than he had imagined.
Still, he had a beautiful wife, Queen Rowan, and they had a son together, a beautiful boy named Cailan with golden hair and a bright smile.
[[Continue]]