Chapter 69: Reconciling Differences

I must have dozed myself, because I woke to a startled gasp as Blake sat up and practically leapt off my bed. His hair was all stuck up on one side of his head, his expression groggy but horrified.

"Blake? What's wrong, kiddo?"

"My Lady, I'm so sorry, I took your bed, and-"

"Blake. Calm down, okay? I told you to sleep on the bed. And I'm just Sierra, remember? There's no need to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you anymore. I swear it." I pulled him over to me, wrapping my arms around his frail shoulders and hugging him. He was stiff for just a moment, and then seemed to relax and return the hug.

"I'm just so afraid all the time." He buried his face in my shoulder and his hands gripped my shirt.

I hugged him tighter. "You don't have to be anymore."

"But the Arlessa..."

"Listen." I pulled him to half sit in my lap, as he seemed to be comforted by the contact. "I have some stuff to talk to you about. But I want you to know that the Arlessa will never lay a hand on you again. No one will, or they'll have to face me, and I'm not afraid of the Arlessa, okay?"

He nodded, seemingly reassured.

"So. First things first. Do you read or write at all?"

"Sort of, my L- Sierra. My ma tried to teach me sometimes, when she wasn't working. But we didn't have any books or things, so I'm not very good."

"Okay. Tell me, have you ever thought about what you'd do, if you could do anything? Not like being King – obviously that's impossible – but I mean, have you ever wanted to be a knight, or a scholar, or anything?"

"I've never thought about it." He scrunched up his nose. "I don't think I'd be a very good knight. I'm too little."

"Hmm. I have an opportunity for you. I'm going to tell you all about it, and then you can tell me if it sounds like something you'd like to do. You are allowed to say no, and I will not be upset with you. If you don't want to do this, I will find something else; you will not be sent back to the kitchens, okay?"

He nodded.

"The King, you saw him today in the kitchen, right? Well, we're trying to get his throne back for him from a bad man who's trying to steal it. When we do, he's going to need people around him he can trust. He has offered to take you on as his personal servant. You'd be responsible for organising his clothes, helping him dress, getting him food from the kitchens, that sort of thing. You'd have your own room in the palace, you'd be fed and treated well. He would train you to do the job over the next few weeks, and then you'd go with us when we go to Denerim. He'd also be teaching you to read.

"What do you think?"

His eyes were big. "But I'd have to stay here for the next few weeks?"

"Yes, but you'd be the King's servant, not the Arlessa's. You'd sleep in a bed nearby, in case the King needed something. And the Arlessa wouldn't dare to hit the King's personal servant. The King is a good man; he would protect you from her. And I'll check on you when I get back; the Arlessa would be in big trouble if I found out she hurt you."

"Why would the King want me? I'm nobody."

"That's not true, Blake. You've been treated like that, but no one is unimportant. You're a nice kid, and you'd be loyal to the King, right? You wouldn't betray him by telling his secrets or not doing a good job, right? You're exactly what he needs, because he can't trust everybody. But I think he could trust you, couldn't he?"

He stood up, puffing out his tiny chest a little. "Yes, my Lady. I'd never tell nobody anything about the King. I swear."

"See? That's the sort of man he needs around. Now, do you think you'd like that job? Or shall I figure out something else? It's entirely up to you."

He looked over at me. "Will I be able to see you?"

"Sometimes. You know that I travel with the Grey Wardens, and we're all really busy because of the Blight, right? But when I can, whenever we are back here, or later when we're in Denerim, I promise to come see you as often as I can."

"Okay." He looked about to cry. "No one's ever been nice to me before, other than Ma. But I know I can't come with you and fight and stuff. If you think I can do it..."

I nodded. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

He sighed. "When do I go?"

"How about after supper?"

I walked him down to Redcliffe Village, and bought him a few more things: some toys, an empty notebook, quill, and ink, and a storybook meant for children. I knew Theron would provide for him (or Eamon would, indirectly, by supporting Theron until he was back on the throne), but I wanted him to have some of his own things, too.

We had supper back at the castle; Eamon again looked like he was sucking on a lemon when I brought Blake with me, but he didn't say a word. After we ate, I introduced Theron to Blake. We had to stress several times that he was not to be calling Theron 'Your Majesty' until after the Landsmeet; it took a bit of doing. The two seemed to hit it off okay, and to my surprise, Theron had made some plans in case Blake took the job. He had arranged a small room near his, where Blake could sleep; he took the kid up there, and I helped him transfer his clothes and few meager possessions from my room to his.

I was shocked and touched when Alistair came up, offering Blake an old, strange looking piece of rock; I looked again and realised it was a golem figurine. He told Blake it had helped him feel less lonely when he was a boy hiding from the Arlessa, and that he wanted Blake to have it. It was such a sweet gesture, I couldn't help but squeeze Alistair's hand thankfully. He smiled at me, sadly, and left again.

Once I was sure Blake was settled, I gave him a hug and went to find Aedan. They had done their last minute errands and were all ready to go for the morning; I hugged my brother, almost cried, and then ran off to bed before anyone could see me being so vulnerable. I slept poorly, but refused to get up to see them off; it would only have made the separation harder. I knew that Aedan carried a spare set of armour he'd taken from the Redcliffe armoury just in case I ended up popping back to Earth and then joining him somewhere in the Wilds.

When I finally did get up, I put on my armour, and after eating a quick-but-large breakfast, went out to the training grounds and sparred with some of Wayne's knights. He was pleasantly surprised at my progress since I'd seen him last; I didn't win any sparring matches, but I didn't entirely humiliate myself, either. Tomas joined us, and I practiced against him for a while, but his skill was to the knight-trainees as theirs were to me; I didn't have a chance.

Bruised and sweaty, I decided to have a shower. I went up to my room, got together my things, and headed down into the basement. The sound of the water thundering through the foundation of the castle was deafening even from several rooms away; I finally came to the crack, wiggled my way through, and found myself in the little cavern.

Only, I wasn't alone.

Alistair stood under the spray, head tilted back, face almost completely obscured by water; soap suds ran down his chest, past his manhood, and down his muscular legs. I stared, dumbstruck, as my libido started urgently demanding that I strip and start applying my hands, mouth, and anything else I could to that sculpted body. Suddenly embarrassed, I realised I was no better than Theron, staring like that, and I turned away. Face flaming, I stumbled out through the crack in the foundation, and leaned against the wall, breathing hard, trying to drive the images from my mind.

Probably ten minutes later, Alistair slipped into the hallway, and gasped, startled to see me.

"Sierra?"

I couldn't stop the blush from recurring, no matter how hard I tried. His expression became knowing, and almost a little bit amused. "Get a good look, then?"

I stepped around him, refusing to discuss what I'd just seen, intending to head into the shower room, thankful suddenly that it would be a cold shower. Before I could make it through the crack, he spoke.

"When you're done ... could we talk?" I nodded, not turning back. "I'll meet you up on the battlements? Where we went before?"

I nodded again, and then practically ran into the shower room, desperate to escape.

The shower was heavenly, and cold, as desired; I felt really clean for the first time in ages. Baths and streams just don't compare to a high-pressure shower. I wrung out my hair, leaving it down to dry; after redressing, I hurried to my room to drop off my stuff before finding the strange door that lead up to the balcony on the roof of the keep, what Alistair called battlements.

Alistair sat on the stone railing, looking out across the lake; he turned as he heard me approach, smiling at me. We both sank onto the floor, backs to the keep wall, side by side as we'd been the last time I'd been up there as well.

I picked at my thumbnail, nervously, wondering what exactly he wanted to talk about.

Finally he cleared his throat. "I wanted to say thank you. I know you didn't only do it for me, but no one's ever stood up to Isolde for me before. Theron told me what you said."

I flushed. "No thanks necessary. I'd have done the same for anyone. No child deserves her. Thanks for giving Blake the golem, by the way. I think it might help, knowing he wasn't the only one to grow up abused by her."

"I'm glad. Poor kid. At least I was properly fed. I can't even imagine what they were thinking." He shuddered.

"I wouldn't say thinking is Isolde's strong suit." I smirked, and he chuckled. "And I suspect that Eamon just lets her run the show, do whatever she wants, without paying any attention. It doesn't excuse him, as he should be paying attention, but I bet he had no idea who Blake even was or that he was being abused."

"I can't decide if that's better or worse."

"Me either. But I'm guessing that wasn't why you asked me to talk?"

"No." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I have a confession to make. I promise it was entirely accidental, but I overheard part of your conversation with Teagan yesterday. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop – you didn't close the door all the way, and I was walking by; I heard your voice and went looking, only to find you with Teagan. I left again right away, but I heard some things, first."

I racked my brain, trying to think what we'd talked about. He'd offered me refuge at Rainesfere, should I wish to get away from Alistair, because... Ah. "About you. Us."

His face was scarlet, and he nodded, but kept on despite his embarrassment. "I heard you tell him that you believe I am disgusted by you."

I nodded, unsure where he was going with it. He refused to meet my eyes.

"Mind telling me why you believe that?"

"Because it's true?" Being so close to him, especially after what I'd seen earlier, was becoming difficult. It was making me cranky and curt. Even I flinched at my harsh tone, but he didn't.

"Allow me to rephrase. What specifically did I do to make you believe that?" His tone was polite, curious; not irritated by my attitude, for which I should have been thankful, and wasn't. It seems I want a fight.

I sighed. "You called me a monster, Alistair. You walked away. And your face ... Maker, the expression on your face. I can see it still, in my mind. You made it quite clear I disgust you."

I looked away; I didn't want to be discussing it. Not when now I knew I wanted him back, and yet couldn't have him. I scrunched my eyes shut, trying to banish the hurtful image. The silence stretched, and finally I risked a glance in his direction. He sat, perfectly still, looking forlorn. His eyes were glistening suspiciously, and his lower lip quivered just slightly; it was painful to watch. Almost painful enough to overwrite the image of his disgust.

Finally he spoke. "Sierra, I ... Void take me, but I'm an idiot. Everything I do is just..." He hopped to his feet and started to pace restlessly; I flinched, startled by the abruptness of the movement. It occurred to me, as my first reflex was to assume I'd be hurt, that I had been letting trust issues run my life for far too long. Unaware of my internal monologue, Alistair continued, "I wasn't disgusted with you. Truly. I was hurt, thinking that you might have had ulterior motives for being with me, but I wasn't disgusted with you. I was disgusted with myself. For ever thinking I deserved something more, deserved to have someone love me just for me. In my head ... of course you had ulterior motives, I should never have expected otherwise. I was disgusted with my own stupid naivety and optimism. And then you were gone, and when everyone found out what happened..."

He sank back down beside me, looking exhausted. "They all made me see what an imbecile I was, that you had no possible ulterior motive. That you'd avoided me for months to prevent me from falling for you. I didn't believe you, when you told me. But they said the exact same things, and it finally sunk in that I was wrong, totally wrong. I didn't realise how badly I'd screwed up until I saw you again.

"I never thought you were disgusting. Even those few hours where I truly believed you'd manipulated me ... I was only disgusted with myself." He reached over and touched my cheek, gently stroking it. "Never you."

He dropped his hand, and I immediately missed it; the warmth, the gentleness, the intimacy. I looked away, trying to pull myself together. I'd been trying to get over the mental image for a while, but now the urge was almost overwhelming. At the same time, my heart hurt; it was an echo of the pain I'd felt when he walked away, and I was too scared to let him back in again.

I decided to tell him the entire truth. If I'd analysed it, I'd have realised that I was trying to push him away, but I didn't think about it that hard. The impulse hit, and I just started talking.

"You once asked me to tell you the other things I was keeping from you, from the game. Games." He nodded, I noticed in my peripheral vision. "Do you still want to know?"

When he nodded again, I took a deep breath. "The only things relevant to you are at the Landsmeet. So, I'm going to talk like it was me, as the Warden, with you at the Landsmeet, because that's how I see it, in my head." He nodded. "So, assuming you were in a relationship with me, my character ... Hmm. Backing up. My Warden, the one I usually played, was a Cousland. A female Cousland named Elyssa. Anyway, we'd go into the Landsmeet, and blah blah blah with Loghain. Anora would betray us. There'd be a vote, and it would go against Loghain. But of course, he wouldn't back down, so it would come down to single combat between him and me.

"When I defeated him, I had the option of executing him or recruiting him to the Wardens." I held up a hand to forestall the objection I knew was coming. "We'll get to that. Usually I went with execution, and then I had four options. I could declare Anora to be the Queen. We'd stay Grey Wardens together and go on our merry way. Or I could coerce you into marrying her and ruling jointly, despite the fact that we were together. I could declare myself your Queen, entirely without asking you or discussing it with you first. Or I could make you King by yourself, at which point you immediately and publicly broke off our relationship because you'd need to marry a noblewoman who could give you heirs.

"If my character was an elf, dwarf, or mage, I wouldn't have the option to rule beside you, obviously."

His face was pale. "None of those ... are good options. Not that I'd probably have minded the getting married part, but I could see it being an awkward thing for you. And I don't relish leaving Anora on the throne, but I wouldn't want to marry her, and I wouldn't want to lose you." Alistair looked upset. I knew it was going to get worse, and I gulped despite the tingle of warmth at his admission he wouldn't mind marrying me.

I nodded. "And it's not like I wouldn't have understood your reasoning in breaking things off, but ... it still hurt. And you did it entirely tactlessly, and in front of all of our companions."

"Yeah, that sounds like the sort of dumb thing I would do." I shot him a dirty look, and he flinched. "Sorry. I am sorry. I'd like to say I'm not like that, but..."

I looked away, unable to meet his eye for the next part. "The worse alternative was if I allowed Loghain to be conscripted. Of course, we didn't know about dying to defeat the Archdemon at the time, but Riordan made vague comments about us needing all the Grey Wardens we could get. And if I allowed it to happen ... you got upset, obviously, and if I didn't change my mind, you left. Left the Wardens, abdicated your throne ... left me. You refused to fight the Archdemon, and ended up a drunk in Kirkwall, living on charity from Teagan and trying hard to kill yourself with alcohol poisoning. You didn't even look back as you walked away, even if we loved each other."

"I just assumed you were betraying me," he stated. I nodded, sniffling. "Like I did, here, only sooner. And for an even stupider reason."

A tear dribbled down my cheek. I remembered the pain of that betrayal the first time I'd played it in game. It had hurt, even as I knew it was ridiculous to be so affected by a fictional character. I'd had to save the game and go cry, like I was now. But it was nothing next to knowing what it actually felt like, watching Alistair walk away from me. I turned away from Alistair, embarrassed to be seen so emotional over what he would assume was a stupid game.

I should have known better; I felt his hand on my shoulder, his arm move around me, and before I knew what had happened I was sobbing into his shoulder as he held me close to him. He settled me in his lap, stroking my hair, not letting go, whispering apologies, and just let me cry. I soaked his shirt with my tears, and he didn't seem to notice, just kept holding me. I pressed my face into his shoulder, and felt a drop of water hit the back of my hand. I'd have thought it was one of my tears, if my face hadn't been buried at the time.

I looked up, wondering if it was about to rain, only to see blue sky all around. One quick glance at his face, and I realised – it was Alistair's tear. I'd never seen him cry before; not in game, not in real life. But there were twin tracks running down his cheeks, and more drops fell as I watched. I put my arms around his neck and he pulled me close; the two of us sat there for probably an hour, crying together without words.

We must have fallen asleep; when I woke, it was close to sundown, based on the angle of the sun, and it was chilly on the balcony. My stomach rumbled, and I wondered if we'd missed supper entirely. I was still cradled in Alistair's arms; he had one hand buried in my hair, the other arm draped around me, his head back, snoring softly.

I watched his face as he slept; he didn't look peaceful, exactly, but it was the most relaxed, least unhappy I'd seen him look since they had found me at Soldier's Peak. Sunlight glinted off his blond hair, making it look even lighter than normal; his mouth was slack, but the deep wrinkle in his forehead was gone. And we'd both slept without nightmares, which was unusual; lately, it'd seemed, we'd both been having frequent darkspawn-laden dreams, or at least I assumed it by how often he looked tired and haggard, and from my own recurrent nightmares.

I regretted telling Alistair about the Landsmeet. Having time to think about it, I finally realised I'd intended to use it to hurt him, to push him away. His eyes opened, while I thought about it, and he smiled softly at me before seeming to realise where we were. Once he did, he gripped me tighter, if anything, preventing me from running away, which was exactly what I'd been thinking about. But when I looked deeply into his hazel eyes, I decided I didn't want to run away. I was sick of running, and I wasn't angry anymore. I hadn't been in a while, if I was honest.

Before I could change my mind, I reached behind him, carding my fingers through his soft hair, and then pulled him down to crush his lips against mine. He didn't hesitate to respond, tightening his grasp on my hair, pulling me tightly to him, groaning as I teased his lower lip with my tongue. It was a desperate kiss, somehow conveying need and want but also sorrow and loneliness and regret. I knew, for certain, that he regretted what he'd done, what he'd assumed, and without him saying it, I knew he'd never betray me again. I knew he loved me. And I think he knew that I forgave him, and that I loved him in return.

After the first few desperate seconds, he pulled back a little, softening the kiss, nuzzling his nose against my cheek, his hands stroking my face and my hair. Our lips moved slowly against each other, our tongues darting out to touch but not wrestle each other. For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing but his soft breath on my face, his lips against my own, and his hands stirring warmth wherever they touched.

When we pulled away, the look of adoration on his face took my breath away. It was sort of goofy, with a lopsided smile and sparkling eyes. In that moment, it completely replaced the mental image I'd been carrying for so long, that look of disgust on his face. I felt the fear, the anger, the hurt disappear, leaving behind contentment and love. I didn't think I'd ever forget what had happened, but I filed it into a mental category of 'lessons learned', and moved on. It was no longer important; only the future mattered. And my future was with him.