This is my submission for the Alistair Telephone Game. I don’t like writing about things that are predictable or maybe expected and so my brain came up with this. @alistairtelephonegame and other readers - I hope you like it.
Life had dealt him a pretty shitty soup sandwich. Sleeping in the stables with the mabari because his uncle’s wife (he refused to call her his ‘aunt’) was jealous of him. Being shipped to the Chantry soon after for the same reason. Being conscripted into the Grey Wardens (although that one may have actually been a blessing). Sure, there were good things that had happened, but they were small in comparison. Alistair had learned long ago to never hope for the best because the best never seemed to happen to him. He was always prepared for the worst and in the off-chance that something good happened, then it would serve as a pleasant surprise. Oh, he never let his mental negativity cloud his behavior – he laughed, joked, played pranks, supported his friends. By all outward appearances, Alistair was a happy-go-lucky guy who never let anything get him down. On the inside, though, he always expected the worst to happen - from dinner burning to getting a sword in his back fighting darkspawn.
That all changed at Ostagar, when Duncan showed up with her. First, she actually talked to him. She laughed at his jokes, sought out his company, seemed to actually enjoy talking to him. All surprises – very delightful surprises, to say the least. He began to wonder if maybe the fates had finally started to smile on him, if maybe all of his suffering would serve to teach him to appreciate someone like her more than he would have had his life been easier.
Then there was the battle… Cailan died. Duncan died. Everyone he’d known for the past 6 months and had come to care about all died. He nearly died. And as he stood outside of the witch’s hut, he couldn’t help but shake his head, knowing that this was just like everything else in his life had been. He smirked to himself when he realized that he honestly expected the witch’s daughter to come out and tell him his fellow Warden had died as well. Tears of silent relief nearly fell from his eyes when he heard the witch announce Eleanor’s appearance from the hut. “Surprise” couldn’t even begin to describe the relief that washed over him when he turned and saw her smile at him.
And so they traveled together, accompanied by the witch’s daughter, to work on getting the Grey Warden treaties fulfilled. They picked up more people who quickly became friends, even those who, it had seemed, had had the Maker smite them in worse ways than He had smited Alistair. Eleanor saw past all of that, though. She was kind, gentle, and willing to give nearly everyone a second chance – even the elf who’d been sent to kill her, kill them both. Alistair was growing accustomed to having not-so-bad things happen to him. He still kept part of himself walled off, though, and ready to accept the inevitable drop of the other shoe.
As they traveled, though, something completely unexpected happened – he fell in love with her. Even more startling was the fact that she felt the same way about him. More good things seemed to happen – she was ok with his lineage and the fact that he’d kept it from her; they saved Eamon and Connor (he didn’t give a nug’s ass that Isolde had died, to be honest); they straightened out the mess at the Circle; the helped Orzammar get their politics straightened out. On top of all of that, they had managed to survive. There were the usual bumps, bruises, cuts, and scrapes but for the most part, there was never anything really life-threatening.
The Landsmeet sided in their favor but Alistair never wanted the throne. He knew as a Warden he’d never be able to produce an heir, not to mention that when he was left in charge, people got lost, died, and there was the possibility he’d wind up somewhere without his pants – not something he wanted to surprise other people with. So Alistair supported Anora’s bid to rule Ferelden, something that came as no real shock to the people in their merry little band. He smiled at the thought of being able to make Eleanor his bride without the worry of courtly constraints. Even with the good things that were finally happening to him, he continued to keep part of himself braced for the worst, not wanting to be caught off-guard by karma swinging the other way.
That mental bracing came in handy when Riordan finally told them how the archdemon needed to be slayed. He had offered to make the killing blow, but Alistair’s pessimistic brain already knew that something was going to happen to the elder Warden… somehow he or Eleanor would have to make the killing blow, causing their death. He vowed in that moment to do whatever he could to protect and save his love, even if that meant sacrificing his own life. Enough bad things had happened to her – her parents killed, her nephew slaughtered, her brother missing – and he didn’t want her to develop the same, permanent sense of foreboding that he’d carried around most of his life. When Morrigan made her offer, Alistair didn’t hesitate to accept. True, the last thing he wanted to do was sleep with the witch, but there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep the woman he loved out of death’s reach.
Eleanor had raced ahead of him to slay the massive dragon. Alistair screamed her name as she raised her sword and plunged it into the beast’s skull. He wept tears of relief when fate had seen fit to provide truth to Morrigan’s promise. He had been expecting that the witch had lied to them, that one of them would still die, that life would still, even now, show him that he would never have anything good last in his life.
They stayed in Denerim for a while, helping to rebuild the city and recruit more Wardens to replenish their ranks. Anora surprised them both by being extremely accommodating and flexible, offering them a room in the palace, resources, even her time. They finally left, Alistair realizing that maybe things would work out after all. Well, at least until the time came for their Calling….
They traveled the Deep Roads the way they’d gone through the past several years – together. The trip was definitely no shock to either of them as it was the fate of all Grey Wardens to come here when the taint-filled buzzing in their heads became too much. The darkspawn found them quickly and Alistair and Eleanor quickly took to killing as many as they could. Her magic flew through the air, his blade sliced and flicked poisoned ichor around the cavern. Finally a genlock got close enough to Eleanor to land a mortal hit.
Alistair sat, cradling Eleanor tight against him. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the inevitable killing blow. After a few moments, he realized that the area had quieted considerably. The buzz from the retreating darkspawn was still tickling the back of his brain, but there didn’t seem to be an immediate threat. Carefully, he opened one eye, then the other when he saw one lone figure standing in front of him. He looked up defiantly at the emissary, daring the darkspawn mage to finish what its brethren had started. The emissary cocked its head and simply said, “I can save her. I can save you both.”
That was one surprise Alistair never saw coming.
