No Armor Against Fate (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Sunlight over Orzammar

"You've been very quiet," Alistair remarked. "Even for you."

Thora looked up at him. They were heading into the Frostback Mountains, only a few days from Orzammar. She supposed she had been quieter than usual but hadn't realized it had been enough for him to notice.

"Is it Orzammar?" he asked.

She sighed. "I just ... I don't know how I'll be received. I wouldn't put it past Bhelen to have me put in jail—or back into the Deep Roads—the minute I step inside."

"They'll have to go through me first," Alistair growled. "And Wynne and Leliana and Lohengrin as well. Even Morrigan might not take too kindly to that."

"Good to know," she said. "Of course, even as formidable a group as we are might not be a match for an entire nation of dwarves. Although, from the rumors we've been hearing, it sounds as though Orzammar is as badly split as Ferelden." She shook her head. "Politics!" she spat.

"But you were a princess!" Alistair protested. "Surely you were used to all that kind of thing."

"Used to it, yes. Liked it? Absolutely not. I lost my identity because of it."

"What do you mean, lost your identity?"

"Didn't I tell you? My name was struck from the Memories—Orzammar's official history. I have no claim to the Aeducan name or anything that goes with it. Except for what my father gave to Gorim: his forgiveness, and the Aeducan shield."

"Would you— Would you want to go back home?"

"Home?" she asked. "I thought I told you, my home is with the Grey Wardens. With you. Duty or death, remember?"

Alistair smiled at her, but the question remained on his face. "What if it's your duty to rule Orzammar?"

"No!" He was surprised by her vehemence. "I was—am—a soldier. I've never had the time or the patience—or any noticeable talent—for the Assembly or the games that need to be played if you ever expect to accomplish anything."

"But wouldn't it be worth all the games and all of it if you could make things better for your people?"

Thora looked at him, a speculative smile crossing her features. This was the man who insisted he didn't want to be king, and that he wouldn't make a good one. He was far better fit for the position than she'd ever been, she thought. She knew that she could no longer fight the inevitable: if it were up to her, she'd put him on Ferelden's throne, even though it would mean the end of their relationship.

Alistair saw the brief flash of sadness in her eyes, quickly veiled, and wondered what it meant.

Then she said, "That's a noble idea, certainly, but not one that I think would work for me. Or for Orzammar." She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment. "I do more good for my people up here ending the Blight than I would there, sitting on a useless throne."

"Don't you miss it?" She was so rarely willing to talk about any of her past or her former home, he couldn't just let it go.

"Not at all! I don't think I ever told you this, but even before I was exiled, I had approached Duncan about joining the Grey Wardens. I don't know how my father would have taken it, but I was determined to go if I could." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with her love for him. "So you see, my dearest, we were going to be together one way or the other."

Alistair's heart melted, and he stopped right there in the road, tilting her chin up with one finger and bending down to kiss her, softly and sweetly.

"Must you two constantly engage in all this unnecessary ... touching?" Morrigan sighed, walking past them. "The activities in the tent I can understand. Those have some purpose. Even if I'd prefer you kept them more quiet. But this? Is simply irritating."

Alistair's eyes flashed dark with annoyance, his usual reaction to Morrigan, but Thora's hand on his arm quieted him. "Ignore her. Please?"

"I'll do my best," he growled. After a moment, they kept walking. "Tell me more about Orzammar, then." When she looked doubtful, he threatened, "I'll go have an argument with Morrigan, if you'd rather." He grinned at her.

"All right, then," Thora sighed. "If those are my only two options. What do you want to know?"

"Don't you miss ... something? The food? The ale?"

She thought about that for a moment. "I miss Gorim. He was ... a lot like you, really, only shorter."

"And nowhere near as cute," Alistair prompted, trying not to be jealous. She'd explained after she'd met the other dwarf in Denerim—launching herself into his arms in an unusual display of emotion—that they had been nothing more than good friends and staunch allies, but that didn't mean neither of them had ever thought about it.

"Yes," she said, flashing her special smile at him, the soft curve of her lips warming him clear through, "nowhere near as cute. And one or two other people I thought of as friends. Lord Harrowmont, my father's second, was a good man and a good friend to my father and our whole family. He was the one who provided me with weapons when I went into the Deep Roads and told me that the Grey Wardens were down there." She paused, thinking. "The food, the ale ... I suppose I do miss them. But they're all completely overshadowed by how much I love the sheer space out here, the privacy. The water! In Orzammar, water tastes dusty and metallic. But up here? It's like drinking sunlight, all sparkling clear. And it's all so free of people watching."

"People still watch. The entire camp knows everything we do," Alistair groused, adding under his breath, "and feels the need to comment on it."

"Yes, but those are friends," Thora said. "In Orzammar, there's always someone watching you. Or listening to your conversations."

"Even the nobility?"

"Especially the nobility! Every wall has a peephole—for the servants to spy on the nobles, for the nobles to spy on each other, and so on. You never know who has paid the person you're talking to for a report on what you've said, never know when what you've said will be reported to someone who will use it against you." Thora shook her head. "I may occasionally miss some small things, but mostly ... I love the sky, and the trees, and the water far more than anything Orzammar ever had to offer." She shot a wicked glance at Alistair. "Not to mention the men."

"Men? Plural?" Alistair glared at her in mock outrage. "Wait till I get you alone. We'll just see about that." He strode off ahead, muttering "Men!" under his breath. Thora grinned after him. With that for priming, tonight should be very, very interesting.