#willtherebegryiffions

[fulluponcrazy]

The Rubble or Our Sins | willtherebegryiffions

willtherebegryiffions

Most of the trip to Weisshaupt was made in silence. With just Vera and Barkspawn for company, Alistair didn’t exactly have many conversation partners.

Weisshaupt rose above them like a mountain, and a stable hand met Alistair at the end of the path to take Vera to the stable while Alistair headed inside.

There were problems in the south, they insisted, and Alistair just wasn’t seeing them. But he was, he just didn’t see them as problems. He wasn’t going to object to the Wardens being less secretive. Those secrets were the reason Jorey had died. Those secrets led to him needing to fuck Morrigan. And really, if the majority of the southern Wardens wanted transparency, then perhaps it wasn’t the South that had a problem.

But no matter how he shouted, they weren’t listening.

He recalled the First Warden telling him, “What the south needs now is stability, not a beacon to flock towards as they rebel,” in deep, sympathetic words, and then things got a bit fuzzy.

Alistair looked at the drink he had been offered and asked, words trickling out slowly, “What did you put in this?” With the world trying to melt around him, he put up only a token struggle as he was locked away.

(By prison cell standards, it was actually rather nice, with a bed and a bookshelf and a desk, but the warning of the locked door was still rather clear: We’re keeping you here until things are quieted, one way or another.)

It wasn’t until later that someone thought to ask, “Wait, has anyone seen his dog?” and by that point, Barkspawn was long gone.

Less than a day later, the old mabari picked up a familiar smell, and he bolted after it at a sprint, baying like he meant to wake the mountains themselves as he bounded closer and closer to Sheena with each stride.

[fulluponcrazy]

Flustered noises

Quickly, Alistair used his towel to cover his lower half. “What?” he asked, slightly defensive to hide his embarrassment (granted, his face turning red gave it away anyway). “It’s a washroom,” he pointed out. “What were you expecting to find?” He glanced around for where his pants had landed and went to fetch them. “Besides, you’ve seen it before.”

[fulluponcrazy]

"Make me cry" bc why not????

She had asked Alistair to come with her when she went to chase the most promising lead. He had smiled sadly and said, “I’m still the Warden-Commander here. I can’t just leave. Besides, we both know you know how to take care of yourself. Just keep in touch this time.”

Ironically, it was Alistair who fell out of touch in the final months of her trip. Sheena couldn’t put much thought into it, though, as she came closer and closer to finding an end to the Calling.

And then she found it. She barely gave herself a minute to celebrate before she trekked back to Skyhold. And Alistair wasn’t there. The other Wardens pointed her towards Redcliffe, and off Sheena went.

Connor was older and taller and powerful, but he still looked like that small child Sheena had first met, when he looked at her like his heart was breaking.

“No one told you?” he asked. “Alistair left for Orzammar weeks ago.”

...Maybe she wasn’t too late. Maybe she had found the cure quickly enough. She held onto that thought as she rode towards Orzammar and as she dove into the Deep Roads.

For days she hunted through the caves, but the found him on accident. The sound of metal on stone woke her from her light, cautious slumber. She sat up and grabbed her bow, and found a band of half a dozen hurlocks prowling around her camp, the leader holding a longsword in a loose grip so that the tip dragged along the ground.

Slowly, Sheena’s gaze followed the sword upward to a hand, an arm, a shoulder, and finally to Alistair’s face, his hair and skin caked in dirt and blood, his eyes senseless, and the black ichor of the Taint tracing his veins.

“Only you could crawl off to die and not actually die,” Sheena remarked with a soggy laugh that was more like a sob. She lifted her bow.

He snarled at her, guttural and inhuman, and Sheena shot him between the eyes.

[fulluponcrazy]

I want to be friends with you again.

He opened his mouth to say something flippant (maybe something like, “Well, congrats, there you go.”), but whatever he planned on saying didn’t come, the words drying up.

“You--” He sighed quietly. “You’ll get there eventually. You’ve done it before; you already have the cheat sheet.”

[fulluponcrazy]

"WA-PISH!" ['Gimme the Booty' plays softly]

He’s pacing the battlements, reading over an official and somewhat scary looking letter. He doesn’t think much of it when Sheena joins him, but once she slaps his ass, there is a startled and rather undignified yelp, and he comes to a halt so quickly he almost trips over himself.

He whirls to face her, eyes wide as confusion and embarrassment war for dominance on his face.

Finally, he manages, “Um...hi?”

[fulluponcrazy]

❅

❅ for my muse to cuddle up next to yours while asleep on the couch

It was late, and the day’s revelries had drawn to a close by the time they finally had a moment to sit down. They leaned against each other on the couch. Highever Castle was quiet, finally.

The party had been...exhausting. Enjoyable, of course! But exhausting. It had been years since Alistair had let himself be anything other than just another Grey Warden; he couldn’t remember the last party or celebration he had attended.

Sheena was saying something to him, and Alistair had no idea what it was, but he hummed a lazy, “Mmhmmmm,” regardless.

He was pretty sure she laughed, and he managed a quiet huff of a chuckle. He supposed he must have fallen asleep against her shoulder after that, since he didn’t remember much else.

[fulluponcrazy]

♥

Weisshaupt is miles behind them when they finally make camp for the night. The horses are tied loosely a few yards away. Barkspawn sleeps in a nest of leaves.

Alistair sits beside the fire, legs drawn up to his chest as he stares into the flames like his mind on the other side of Thedas.

He tries to tell people Clarel is crazy, and he gets hunted like a dog that needs to be put down. He tries to take command for once in his life, and he winds up in a cage, the keys held by the people he should have been able to trust most.

He can’t decide if it’s a sign that the Maker really doesn’t want him to be a Grey Warden, or the Maker really doesn’t want him to have any say in his own life. Either way, it’s a rather disheartening message.

He hears Sheena sit down beside him and he doesn’t react.

When the kiss comes, he jolts in surprise, instantly snapping back to the present. He doesn’t have time to react before she pulls back.

She cups his face in both hands and rests their foreheads together. “You listen to me,” she says, words quiet but intense. “I don’t care what the First Warden has to say about it; I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Warden-Commander Theirin. If Weisshaupt wants to abandon the South to stand alone, then we’ll stand with you at our head.”

Alistair manages a shaky smile.

...Fuck whatever the Maker was trying to tell him. Fuck the whims of the First Warden. The Wardens of the South were his.

[sxnoftheland-blog]

willtherebegryiffions

“I have a map of this area, perhaps we should consult it instead of trudge about in the wilderness?”