No Armor Against Fate (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

More Hoops

Thora closed the door to the suite behind her and sighed, leaning heavily back against it. She was so tired, and felt so nauseated. Something about dwarven food just wasn't sitting well with her. She hadn't had an appetite since she'd arrived in Orzammar. And the meeting with Harrowmont had been draining. They'd cleaned out the carta for him, they should have been ready to go to the Assembly. (Of course, his first response to the news had been to regret that she'd had to kill all the carta soldiers. Made her wonder if he'd had some use for them.)

Instead, they'd have to prove the Ancestors' favor for him once again, performing another task none of the Assembly was man enough for. Excuse after excuse after excuse, she thought. Why couldn't the nug-humping Assembly ever just get down to business and make a sodding decision? She wished for a darkspawn to smash. Well, there'd be plenty of that coming up, she thought. At least there was some bright side to this whole mess.

"What's the trouble, my dear?" Wynne asked, looking up from her book. It appeared to be a volume on the Orzammarian legal code.

"Wynne, how can you read that drivel and still be ... alive?" Thora asked, frowning. There was nothing more boring than the legal code.

"Well, technically, I'm not," Wynne said, with a small secretive smile. Thora walked closer, and caught sight of the book hidden inside the book.

"Oh, Wynne," she said. "The Elbrins of Hazen Thaig? That is some trash, right there." She grinned at her friend.

"People who pry into what other people are reading can't be surprised by what they find," Wynne said primly, but her cheeks were red. "Anyway, I believe you're ducking my question."

"Truthfully, I am." Thora sighed again.

"I take it we're not rushing off to the Assembly to crown the new king."

"Hardly. Instead, we're rushing off into the Deep Roads to find the last living Paragon and try to get her support." Thora slowly began knocking her forehead against the stone wall. "I swear, if I didn't need someone to authorize the dwarven troops to fight the Archdemon, I would just leave and let the whole place crumble in on itself."

"We knew it wasn't going to be easy." Wynne's gaze rested sympathetically on the younger woman. She was clearly exhausted and ... not quite herself. Was it more than just being back in Orzammar? the mage wondered.

"We should have guessed there would be hoop after hoop," Thora agreed. "But I had hoped for better, I admit." She looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"Leliana is having a nap, I believe. Alistair ... well, I think he's in your room, but I haven't heard a peep out of him for a while. Which is odd."

"It is, isn't it? I think I'll just go check on him."

"Have fun, dear," Wynne called, turning her attention back to her trashy novel. Thora shook her head. You just never knew, did you?

Alistair had found the only human-sized chair in the suite. He was sprawled out in it, one leg hooked over the arm, deeply engrossed in a book. It was a surprisingly hot look. Once Thora had caught her breath, she asked, "Are you Wynne today?"

"A person could do worse," he remarked absently, turning a page.

"Whatcha reading?" She crossed the room to the chair. Alistair lifted his arms and she climbed in underneath to curl up in his lap. Tucking her head into his shoulder, she read a few lines. "The history of Paragon Aeducan?"