No Armor Against Fate (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Different Now

Two days later Thora woke from a nap to find Alistair standing in her room, holding the baby, carrying on what appeared to be a lively conversation with her. Thora hadn't been at all surprised at what a natural father he'd turned out to be—his skill at things like nappy changes and swaddling far outstripped her own, and the baby was completely entranced by him. She sat and watched the two of them for a moment, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory.

Things were already different. It wasn't just the ring he wore. Other than when she'd actively been in labor, he was keeping his distance. Polite, friendly, even, but keeping anything intimate bottled up. It was better than it had been after the Landsmeet—at least he wasn't angry with her, as he had been then—but also somewhat worse, as underneath the anger had always been the passion. He was keeping that firmly in check. Not that she'd have been interested, given the just having had a baby, but it was strange not to see it. Thora couldn't help but wonder if his brief weeks of marriage—and the accompanying nights with his bride—had shown him the delights of being with a human woman. She suspected that might be unfair to him, but she couldn't help it. She hadn't felt beautiful or desirable in quite some time.

She must have made some sound, because he turned now to look at her. "I think her hair's going to be red," he said. "Like yours." He handed the baby off to Thora, turning away as she began to breastfeed. "I'm going to have to leave tomorrow," he said. "I've ... been here as long as I can probably afford to be."

Thora wondered bitterly if that was because of his job or his wife, but she said only, "I know."

Still not looking at her, he said, "Things will be ... different now. I promised certain things, you know? And I think she deserves them. It's really not fair, the position we—she's been put in."

"I know," she said again. He'd told her about Dorothea's requests. Thora had a hard time feeling too much sympathy for the queen, but she knew Alistair felt incredibly guilty and would probably have done pretty much anything the queen asked.

"I'll be back," he said, "as often as I can, to see Anawyn. And you, of course."

"Of course." He sounded so stiff and formal, Thora thought in many ways it would be a relief when he was gone. At least the knife wouldn't be constantly twisting in the open wound.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish ... but I thought she deserved a certain amount of respect. And what she asked for ... wasn't unreasonable."

Thora looked at him. "You are a man of honor," she said. "I would not have you be any other way."

He flashed her a grateful glance. "You'll be in Denerim for the anniversary?"

"Yes. See if you can keep the parties to a minimum, will you?"

"I'll do my best, but I suspect no one will be leaving any party planning in my hands," he said, sounding like himself again for a moment.

"And a good thing, too," she said, smirking at him. He laughed, but the lightening of the mood didn't last. His smile faded and he turned back to the window, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"I'm wondering if you could spare Wynne for a while. ... Oh, what an incredibly inappropriate thing to bring up right now," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"No need," Thora said, sighing wearily as she shifted the baby to her shoulder to burp. "I understand why you would want Wynne, and if she wants to return with you, you all have my blessing."

"Thank you." He turned to look at her, entranced by the image of the two of them there—his loves. Alistair knew he would go back to the palace feeling that an even larger piece of his heart had been left behind here. At the same time, he couldn't be here without feeling guilty. Not just for everything he couldn't offer the woman he had taken as his wife, but for being here at all. But once he was in Denerim, he would feel guilty because he wasn't here, sharing the joys and responsibilities of parenting and wardening with the woman he had given his heart to. "I'll see you later," he said quietly. "I'm sure the little one could use her sleep." He was reaching for the doorknob when Thora called his name. "Yes?"

"There's something we've never talked about, something I want to tell you."

He looked wary—he didn't think he could take any more emotional harrowing. The idea of riding off and leaving them both had him twisted into knots and it was as much as he could do to hold it all in. "What is that?"

"Later, when it's time for you to go to Orzammar—if you have to go before I do ... I'll be with you. For the Calling."

His eyes studied her face. "And if your turn should come before mine, I'll be with you. That will make it something to look forward to, won't it?" he said softly. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then he left the room.