Not For the Lack of Trying

Chapter Summary: Alistair deals with business in Weisshaupt. While back in Denerim, Rosetta decides how to deal or not deal with the loss. [Mainly Alistair-centric]

Disclaimer: Dragon Age: Origins and anything relating to it belongs to the amazing Bioware.

Chapter 4: Weisshaupt

The Anderfels was cold... not only was it cold, but it was sodding frozen.

Alistair wrapped his leather cloak tighter around himself as another gust of wind blew through. It was getting late and his small army of recruits were tired, cold, and hungry. Night would soon fall upon them and the blizzard threaten to consume them if they stopped to rest. Snow was almost knee high, making walking difficult for those who were on foot.

He looked over the the Warden traveling beside him, "How much farther is the fortress, Lucas?" he asked through the howling wind. "I fear this blizzard will bury us all if we travel through the night."

The Warden gave out a hearty chuckle, "Your Majesty, it is not the snow you should be worried about, but the darkspawn that still lurk around these parts. Nevertheless, the fortress is not far from this point." He pointed outward, though the gesture seemed absolutely useless. The blizzard obscured the view ahead. Alistair had to concentrate to make the faint outline the far off fortress. "We will arrive soon, your Majesty."

Lucas was only a few years older than Alistair and had far more experienced than he. He was not from Weisshaupt, but from Orlais, though he had been to the fortress on several occasions since he was conscripted into the order close to five years ago. He was also the only Warden in the lot that did not hold any suspicion against the young King. Apparently, the order still had a deep curiosity over the end of the Blight. They were thankful, but still very curious.

Another gust of wind blew, stronger than the one before. Alistair braced himself, "That's probably the best news I have heard lately."

Lucas laughed again, "Is this the endurance of the mighty Ferelden Grey Wardens? It's a wonder the blight was ever ended at all."

Nearly a month of travel and they had made it. Alistair stared in awe at the grand structure as he entered through the doors. Surely, the stories Duncan and the few other senior wardens did not do this fortress justice. It's walls— large and wide, holding many frescoes of what he guessed was the entire history of the Grey Wardens. He marveled at the entire site.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a heavy foreign voice address him, "Your Majesty?"

Alistair was greeted by a rather broad tall man wearing a polished set of Grey Warden Commander armor, similar to the one he once wore after cleansing Soldier's Peak. He was an older man, maybe around Eamon's age, if not a little older. He held a stern visage, though half hidden by his thick brown-grayish beard. He bowed courteously. "Your Majesty, Weisshaupt Fortress welcomes you."

"You must be Commander Reiner?" Alistair gave the common Grey Warden salute he had learned from Duncan, "It is a great honor to meet you."

"The honor is all mine, your Majesty. It is not every day that you meet one of the Grey Wardens responsible for ending the Blight. Especially one so lucky as to miraculously survive it."

Somehow the last bit made Alistair flinch slightly. 'They aren't going to let that go, are they?' he thought grimly.

The Wardens from Orlais must have reported back the headquarters after their brief meeting with him a year back. Of course, labeling the survival as 'The Maker's Divine Intervention' was probably not a satisfying explanation, but it was far better than telling them the truth. The truth being he impregnated a maleficar in order to spare his and his wife's lives. The mere mention of it still caused bile to rise up in his throat. Thankfully, there was nothing for the King to vomit as his stomach was very much empty at the moment.

On cue, his stomach growled loudly. He apologized sheepishly, "Oh, um, sorry about that. It has been a long day... the blizzard made it impossible to stop and, y'know... eat." Alistair mentally smacked himself. It was moments like these where he was sure that he was eternally cursed to make every significant moment in his life as awkward as humanly possible.

Commander Reiner's austere expression never wavered, "Yes, of course. You and your lot must be famished. Let me first guide you to your quarters, your Majesty. A feast has been prepared for your arrival. We have also prepared the guest quarters for your guards and companions as well."

"I require no room, human." Shale interrupted, "I was asked by the Queen to stand guard outside the King's quarters throughout the duration of our stay."

Commander Reiner peered over to the golem and nodded, "Very well then."

Zevran soon appeared next to Alistair, still wearing his heavy leather cloak and a drained expression. "So this is the grand Grey Warden headquarters, yes?" his voice sounded thoughtful.

"You sound rather unimpressed?" Reiner raised a brow.

Zevran excused himself, "My apologies, Warden Commander, I meant no disrespect. This is a grand fortress indeed. I just wish it were located in a more... warmer region." Alistair almost agreed. Ferelden may have it's share of bitter winters, but it was nothing compared to the miserable cold that covered all of the Anderfels.

"We learn from these harsh elements," Reiner answered, "The cold can be the perfect teacher for those softened by constant warmth." The Commander turned his attention back on the former Warden. "Now, your Majesty, I will escort you and your companions to their quarters."

Alistair glanced back at the large group of Ferelden recruits, some still piling in and others shaking off the snow from their cloaks, "What of the recruits?"

"Our Wardens know the procedure. From this point onward, your Majesty, they are no longer your concern." Reiner replied and began leading them towards the hallway farther in the room.

Later...

Alistair plopped onto his bed— huge, clean, soft, and absolutely better than a worn out bedroll. His belly was now full with the finest foods Weisshaupt fortress could offer and he was finally clean after a nice long bath. He still needed a shave, but he was sorta getting used to the fuzz growing on his face. 'Aren't beards suppose to be regal?' he asked, mentally. During the feast, he noticed about the majority of the male Wardens there sported various styles of beards. 'Though, theirs just may be to warm their faces from the cold.' he smirked, as he felt the small hairs on his chin. "I'll shave tomorrow." he told himself.

The journey to the Northern fortress had been a pain. He went from being pampered as a King to constantly being on the road, dealing with unpredictable weather, few haphazardly organized Darkspawn attacks, and food shortages. Still, he'd rather have himself go through the journey than his wife.

'Speaking of which..' he looked over to the desk that sat across the room. There laid an untouched pile of letters. He had noticed them the first time he entered the room, but decided to get to them later on. As much as he was yearning to hear from his wife, the smells of food was much too tempting to ignore. Commander Reiner was also adamant about introducing him to some of the notable Grey Wardens, all of whom were senior members of the order. There were mainly men and few women, though they were quite a diverse bunch of dwarves, elves, and humans. They were curious about him and asked many questions about the past blight and his involvement. He answered them, giving them as much information as he felt he could; leaving out a few small details.

But, back to his wife. He rose to his feet, made his way to the desk, and went through the piles of letters. A few were from Eamon, which he suspected were about the Queen's performance while he was away or about the army. But, he really wasn't interested in reading those reports. He knew his wife well. You don't grow up being a Teyrn's daughter without learning a thing or two— and Rosetta learned those things and even more. She was as proficient at governing as Anora, without the hunger and selfishness for power. Hell, they could have had the same arrangement as the previous King and Queen, but both were determined the rebuild their country as a team and strengthen Alistair's image.

He separated Rosetta's letters from the rest; four in all. He took a seat on the wooden chair, opened each envelop, and arranged them from the earliest date to the latest. She wrote in the same fashion as he did; business first and then personal. He laughed as he read about her complaints over the court fussing over her. She recounted the time she accidentally dropped something. As she bent down to reach for it, everyone stood from their seats and rushed to return the object back into her possession. She now dropped things on purpose just to 'mess with them.' "Sneaky minx." he chuckled.

Her writing was formal as she detailed the work she had done while he was away. Ferelden was still in the processes of rebuilding the blighted lands- the South needing the most help. Progress had been going well for the most part, but their were many things needed to be done or improved. Progress was heading in the right direction, though. Even to the point where Rosetta persuaded nobles not to raise higher taxes of their lands. She told him she was in the middle of negotiating with the Empress of Orlais about helping with the effort. Ferelden funds could only stretch so much and help from their neighboring countries would certainly help. Half of the court seemed outraged that the Queen wanted aid from a country that had conquered them decades past, but even they agreed the alternative of ordering higher taxes would end in rebellions across the lands. A partnership between Orlais and Ferelden was sought out since Cailan had been on the throne and seemed the right time to fix the bad blood between the neighboring countries. Plus, Orlais, as well as other countries, had been grateful for Ferelden's part in ending the blight before it reached their own lands and graciously extended their willingness to aid the recovering country.

Finally, he read the personal side to her letters. He was relieved to hear she was doing well. Alistair smiled as he read of how much she missed him, a feeling he knew too well now. 'This castle lacks the same warmth without you here. I don't feel like I'm home.' She stated in the first letter. That made his smile widen and heart thump. He missed Rosetta, but never had he realized how strong the longing was until then. He had traveled possibly hundreds of miles to settle the last bit of Grey Warden business he would ever be a part of. He knew deep down he had to do this right; the last honor he could do in the name of his old mentor. As much as he wanted return to his waiting wife and see how big her belly had gotten, he both needed and wanted the selection of Ferelden's new Grey Warden Commander to be go right.

He looked around the desk for a quill pen, paper, and an ink pot and began writing another letter that would hopefully bring comfort to his awaiting wife back home.

Denerim – One Week Later

For the past few days, Rosetta had hidden herself away in the King's study. She couldn't stand staying in the bedchambers any longer where a physician had ordered her to stay iand rest. But, after a few days of bed rest, Rosetta swore she was growing mad. She was tired of crying, of the emptiness she felt in the pit of her stomach, and constant pity she received from those around her. She needed to get away from the constant reminders of her loss. She needed to work and forget.

The only place in the entire palace that gave her comfort was Alistair's study. It was odd how even after a month of his absence, his scent still lingered here. That was the only comfort the young Queen wanted. Most nights she ended up falling asleep in the plush couch that sat in the far wall or rested her head on the desk, but rarely would she ever enter her bed chambers. Instead of leaving the room for meals, food was sent to her. In fact, the only time she ever left the room was to bathe, use the private facilities, or call on a nearby servant. Her only constant companion was Kaizer, who sat next to her diligently and protectively.

Rosetta stared down at the fine parchment in front of her as she absentmindedly played with the soft feathers of the quill. 'Dearest Husband,' was the only thing written on the paper, followed by an overwhelming amount of blank space. It has been a week since the incident and she had not written a notice to her husband. Hundreds of miles away, her beloved Alistair believed he was to be a father in the upcoming months, but fate, or maybe nature itself, would force it otherwise. Her stomach had been as it was months ago; empty.

Kaizer's ears perked and he made his way over to the door. An elven servant came opened the door and bowed politely, "Your Majesty, the mage, Wynne, would like a moment with you."

The Queen set the quill back into the ink pot and nodded. The servant stood aside as Wynne walked in. She bid thanks to the young elf as she made her exit. "Rose..." Wynne's expression resembled that of a worried mother. "You've been cooped up in this study all day again." The mage made her way next to her friend. She eyed the contents of the desk, noticing nothing looked of grave importance, "You are not working, please have dinner with Leliana and I. Eamon is expecting you there, as well as Lady Isolde."

"I have to tell him." Rosetta's stated plainly. "I can not delay this any further. He needs to know about the... baby." She kept her eyes on her unfinished letter. She reached for the quill, took it from the ink pot, and let the access ink drip.

Wynne bit her bottom lip. Leliana and Eamon both expressed their worry over the Queen as she hid herself away from the world around her. 'Everyone needs their time to grieve their own way.' she would tell them. She simply watched as Rosetta occupy herself with work and put up a strong face when in the presence of others. The elder mage knew this mask well and saw the cracks deepening everyday. This wasn't healthy for her. Wynne's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sob.

The ink pot had tipped over, causing the black ink to spill across the paper. Kaizer whimpered and nudged his mistress's free hand. Rosetta's shoulders shook violently as sobs escaped. Wynne bent down and wrapped her arms around her distraught friend. "There, there, child." she tried to sooth.

Rosetta's voice cracked and strained, "How do I tell him this? Do you know how much this wreck him? I can't—" The thought of causing Alistair any kind of pain horrified her. She remembered his face when he had found out the news of her pregnancy. At first he was positively gobsmacked, after a small moment of silence, his face turned to absolute elation. Ever since then, he had seemed to be on a constant high. How could she take that away from him?

Wynne hadn't been paying attention to Kaizer to notice the dog had started to bark frantically at the door. Soon after, Leliana, Eamon, and Isolde had barged in. Leliana and Isolde rushed to Rosetta's other side, while Eamon ordered nearby servants. Wynne gave the other women a disheartened look, "We need to get her out of this room. Let's take her to the bed chambers."

Moving the Queen was not an easy task. Skipping an entire day of nourishment had made her weak and lightheaded. She also refused to enter her bed chambers, begging them to take her elsewhere. Leliana and Eamon took her to an empty guestroom and placed her in bed. Isolde ordered servants to retrieve her night garments, a bowl of warm water, and a piece of cloth. As the servents busied themselves with the distraught Queen, Leliana, Wynne, Eamon, and Isolde stood outside her doors; all tired and worried sick.

"I should have seen this coming— she's trying so hard to keep her emotions bottled up." Wynne accessed. "She needs time to really grieve and get this out of her system or I fear this will affect her health."

"What of his Majesty?" Isolde questioned, "Surely he needs to know what has happened here."

"The Queen is in no shape to deal with more stress. I will inform his Majesty by letter. I'm sure he will understand if I tell him the news instead." Eamon offered.

Leliana stepped forward, "I think we need to inform her Majesty's brother as well. The Teyrn has not been inform of the news yet. Maybe he can help her Majesty recover?"

Wynne nodded, "Yes, that will do. I will stay by the Queen's side to monitor her. She's going to wake up tomorrow with a splitting headache."

The group dispersed as soon as the servants left the room. Wynne and Isolde entered the room Rosetta rested in, while Leliana and Eamon wasted no time in completing their own tasks.

Weisshaupt – Weeks later

Alistair had been there to witness the joining rituals take place. Thank the Maker all the rituals had been completed, for he could no longer witness another of the taint's victim. For every one recruit that had passed; one, two, or three died. Many good people had died. It made his stomach twist in knots. Some had been killed for their refusal to take part in the ritual, others died from consuming the tainted blood. He had thought with the many deaths he already witnessed from his past adventure, he was used to it. Death was never something one gets really used to.

Alistair laid in his bed, his mind trying to make one strong decision. He had been in Weisshaupt for one week too long. The only thing that held him to the fortress was deciding who would become Ferelden's new Grey Warden Commander.

Commander Rainer made it painstakingly obvious who he wanted Alistair to pick as his country's new Grey Warden Commander. He had noted three specific Wardens, all of whom were as unflappable and deliberate as he was. They were all talented and solid choices, but something about them did not impress the Warden-turned-King. None of them held quite the same leadership skills he had been looking for. Maybe it was too much to ask for to find someone who carried the same leadership capabilities and passion as his former mentor and his wife.

Maybe that was too much to ask for that from Rainer's canadates, but Alistair had spotted on person who came screamingly close. Lucas, the Orlesian Warden he had befriended during his stay. The man was talented with a sword and shield, as well as a bow or daggers. He knew how to talk to people— whether it be for guidance, to befriend, or negotiate. On the battlefield, his demeanor turned to a fierce warrior that had impressed many of the passing recruits or other wardens. This commanded respect from them as well. The only thing was the fact the Rainer had little regards for the man and the fact that he knew an Orlesian Grey Warden would attract suspicion from the people of Ferelden. His courts would be furious, indeed. Then again, they couldn't understand the business of the Grey Wardens.

He heard Shale's voice from outside his door, meaning someone was seeking an audience with him. He rose from the bed, walked over to the door, and opened it. An elven mage glared up at the golem; magic still emanating from her hands. Shale was perfectly still... too still in fact.

"Warden Fiona?"

The mage turned her attention to Alistair, giving a polite bow, "Your Majesty."

"You know... I don't think my wife would appreciate one of my guards paralyzed on duty." He mused.

Fiona crossed her arms, "Frankly, the golem needed to be put in it's place. I warned it to quit with the idle threats every time I or another mage passed by." Fiona was one of the oldest Wardens in Weisshaupt's order, having over twenty years of service... or at least he assumed. She had been one of the more hospitable Wardens he encountered during the weeks he had been staying in the fortress. He found himself comparing her to Wynne with how... 'motherly' she behaved.

"This arrived this evening from Ferelden" the elven woman handed him an envelope. "It's addressed to you, your Majesty."

Alistair took the letter and gave salute to the older mage, "Thank you, Fiona."

She bowed, "Your welcome, you Majesty. I bid you good night." As the mage turned to leave, she gave one glare at the still frozen golem. "I hope you have learned your lesson."

When Fiona disappeared down the corridor, Alistair used his templar skills to disperse the spell holding Shale in bind. "Hag!" Shale bellowed loudly.

Alistair suppressed his amusement, "Be nice, Shale. No more threatening mages or the next time, you'll have to wait til the spell fades to move."

Shale furrowed her stone brows, "I'll remember that the next time an Ogre wishes to try to wear your entrails as a necklace."

Alistair shook his head and returned back into his room with the letter in hand.

A/N: I'm so very sorry this took so long. Blame ME2 and a very bad case of writer's block. I wrote several versions before scrapping them all and decided Alistair needed some love. Angsty Cousland will return next chapter. I forced myself to complete this the day before my birthday. Hazzah for turning 20! And for those who ever read, 'The Calling', special cameo for Fiona, who may return in a future chapter.