The Letter

[DrunkAlistair X FemaleWarden]

Summary: The letter she wrote for him before she went into the deep road reached Alistair just in time before he forgot all about her.

Dear Alistair,

Damn you—

I hate your guts.

I finally get that out of my system.

To be honest, it is not as relieving as I thought it would be.

By the way, I know it is not an appropriate opening for this long delayed letter, but I had to tell you that before I spill all of the bullshits I had to deal with after you just spat into my face—without listening to my side of the story, I might add—and disappeared, for twenty years.

You didn't even wait until we fought the Archdemon. Asshole.

What? You think there will still be a lovelorn girl waiting for you here in Fereldan? No. No, Alistair. I married a man—and by great Maker, I managed to have a beautiful kid who just married her childhood friend, and is about to start a beautiful family. She is pregnant, you see.

Life goes on. Life will not stop to wait for you.

I didn't, either.

If only you were—if only you knew—

If only—

But that doesn't matter anymore, is it?

Alistair. Alistair.

I have been hearing the calling,

It is still too early. Is it?

I thought I was ready, that I would be when it comes—but it's so clear now that I only deluded myself.

I am so afraid.

The most pathetic thing is, despite what you did to me, despite all those promises you never kept, I still want to tell you this first. I want you to know before everyone—before my husband, my family.

I keep hearing them. I never knew that it would sound this haunting. It keeps calling me, and I think that every single time I breathe, I understand the things they say a little bit more. It makes me want to scratch my ears off. More than ever, I want more than anything to just grab the nearest lance and spear my own brain—let the blood drip on the ground—you know, like how we used to spear all those darkspawns.

We killed so many of them. The brain, those rotten greenish brain—you remember its smell, right? You used to say that it was 'even worse than some of the brother wardens' morning breath.'

'They never brushed their teeth,' you added helpfully, thinking that I wanted to know.

We stared at the disgusting smelled—speared—head of the darkspawn solemnly for a minute.

And then we laughed.

I felt like we were going crazy.

…

Why was the time's memories still so clear to me?

You do not remember that, do you?

I love you.

It ended there.

Alistair stared hard at the full stop, wondering why her letter ended there.

Little light managed to sneak itself into the dark, somewhat clammy room, telling him to get himself up and do something. Something meaningful, something he never bothered doing for a very long time.

'I love you.'

He felt sober.

Everything was messy, then a little more than usual. The fact that he was still the only remaining blood of King Maric kept him from dying pathetically on the street, many times. That, Alistair knew, he wasn't that dumb.

Nothing was explained. No details were told, and it stung his chest a little when he realized she did not trust him anymore. It was not a surprise, though. He was not there.

He left her.

The funny thing, the funniest thing was that, he almost forgot all about her. The vehemence of the anger, the love, the warmth and the regret, he didn't feel any of those as much as he used to anymore.

And it was probably the reason why it hurt so much.

He had to strain his mind to remember her face, or so he thought he had to, but it wasn't the case at all. The moment he saw her handwriting, he remembered.

Every single damn thing.

How could someone's presence mean so little at one moment, and the world, the next?

It had been days since the letter arrived, but Alistair knew that it must have been months since it was sent.

She must have gone into the Deep Road, by now.

He was Grey Warden before her, why didn't he hear the calling?

Alistair let the letter drop from his hands, on to the bed, and then to the floor. He didn't need to care, he knew it.

But he did.

He was disappointed. Everything was disappointing.

His life, too.

…

He had to go to her.

If only they could talk, one last time.

damn itttt writing this hurts but I love it anyway. lolol