Chapter Text
It felt like a consolation prize, Warden-Commander. All she wanted was to be his. It was what he wanted as well, before she put that stupid crown on his head. Suddenly, appearances and the expectations of others were what mattered most. What a hypocrite, Amell thought to herself. Her last words to him rang in her head like a gong, over and over. "You hid being the heir from me because you didn't want me to treat you differently. Now, here you are, suddenly treating me differently because you're the heir." If she had known he would do this, she might have told Morrigan to forget the ritual that saved her life. Being consumed by the Old God soul inside of the archdemon seemed preferable right now. Perhaps, that decision had changed her and Alistair, both.
She didn't stay for the celebrations and His Royal Majesty's coronation, opting to head directly to Vigil's Keep with Leliana and Zevran, in order to oversee the transfer of the arling to the Grey Wardens. The Warden was unnaturally quiet the entire trip, and everyone knew why, though no one would dare mention his name. They were angry with him too. He had hurt their best friend, their savior, the only reason any of them still lived. Alistair had broken a promise, and they all felt the weight of his betrayal.
The night before they were to reach Vigil's Keep, the three of them sat by the fire and told stories, as they had done before the archdemon was slain. Leliana and Zevran shared their dashing and dangerous spy tales, as Amell sat enraptured, relieved to be concentrating on anything besides her broken heart. Leiliana would sing, and Zevran would drink until he offered to soothe the Warden's sorrow in his tent, and was expectedly rebuffed. Not that she wasn't tempted, Amell just couldn't entertain the thought of being close with anyone like that right now, not even just for fun. The was no joy in remembering what was stolen, and that's what every touch from someone else would do, with a wound so fresh.
"Thank you both for coming with me. It isn't your duty, and I know you each have matters of your own you'd like to attend to. It would have been a very lonely journey without you." Amell told her companions.
"Think nothing of it," said Leiliana.
"It is always our pleasure," assured Zevran. "Wherever you need us, we'll be there."
"I appreciate that. Once we reach the keep, you're free to go on your way. I doubt you will have any fun hanging around the keep."
Leliana and Zevran exchanged a concerned glance, but said nothing. Anxious about their arrival tomorrow, and feeling oddly on edge, Amell turned in early. As he always did, the Warden's mabari hound laid down in front of his master's tent and made himself comfortable.
Zevran sat next to Leliana and offered her some of his brandy. "Even my jaded little heart is broken."
"I wish there were something we could do," Leiliana whispered.
"Well, she won't let me stab him, and she won't let me pleasure her. I'm afraid I'm all out of ideas." Zevran insisted.
"Surely, he will come around, no?"
"It may be too late for that, I suspect. The words were already spoken."
"But, they were unthinking words. Alistair is good at that. Soon, he'll realize, he cannot live without her."
"Ah, but he has taken her love for granted, no? Our Warden is not likely to give him that opportunity twice."
Leliana shook her head. "First Cullen, now Alistair. Both fell in love with her, knowing what she is, and then both men rejected her for it. It's absolute madness. She's just so...above them. Real kings don't even deserve her, yet Alistair has the gall to look her in the face and claim to be better, and she put him there!"
"Indeed," Zevran agreed. "Even if she weren't stunning, which she undoubtedly is, the woman actually saved the world. She made saviors out of assassins, for goodness sake."
"One of them even being sent to kill her!" Leiliana laughed and elbowed Zevran, the aforementioned unlucky assassin.
Zevran winced. "He'll come running back. He can't put his boots on the right feet without her."
Leiliana took his brandy and drank the last of it. "Of that, I have no doubt. However, she will not make it easy on him. Some wounds must be ripped open and exposed to the light before they can be healed."