Alistair/Reeve Dragon Age Continued

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Continued from here, top level here

"I can start a fire if you need it. And if there is a tub, I should be able to whip up a bath as well."

A simple matter with the formulas he's been working on. Pull moisture from this damp place and the air, add some heat with a bit of fire magic, simple. Of course he couldn't exactly join Alistair in heading downstairs, not yet.

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"You believe in it, do you not?" Reeve counters. The Maker and Andraste and all of that. "Faith moves people to do terrible things. Was it not the words of the chant that caused mages to be handled?"

But then, he doesn't bother saying that it's true of other places as well. Instead he waves off his own question. This is not helping the mood.

"Will it... be a problem that I do not believe in the Chant?"

[nobroth]

Alistair shrugged. "No. Honestly, I only believe because I saw, and touched, the Ashes of Andraste. I know for myself what they did. Before then, I..."

Another shrug.

"Well, like I said. I believe in Andraste. I believe in the Maker. Or at least I believe that there was some powerful magic in those ashes that I've not seen anywhere sense. What you believe, though, is up to you. So long as it works with your heart and mind and all, it doesn't make a difference to me."

He also believed in bread and meat and vegetables, which is why he took another forkful.

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“You... keep surprising me, Warden Alistair. I appreciate that.”

Because the more the man surprises him, the less he is ‘former-Templer’ Alistair. The man he feared. If they were to work together, fearing him seems a bad choice.”

[nobroth]

"Well, I..."

How to answer that. Because he was glad that Reeve seemed to be more at ease with him, and he was glad that they could talk without all of that 'blah, threatening Templar' stuff rearing its head. But he still knew they weren't quite on even ground.

It wouldn't matter, except that they did need to trust each other. Alistair needed to trust that Reeve wouldn't fireball him in his sleep, and Reeve needed to trust that Alistair wouldn't silence or stab him. That meant more talking, he was sure, and that was well and good - he'd talk to him, work things out, but he wasn't the most intelligent. He was well acquainted to that, too.

Yet... Yet, he wanted this to go right. He wanted them to succeed. He wanted to save the world, because he was one of the idiots that lived in it.

"I... guess I hope to keep surprising you in good ways," he managed at last, looking up and across the table at him, offering a small smile.

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“Yes, that would be preferable. I...”

He can’t handle when Alistair is upset with him. The fear still twinges at him. He still doesn’t know what to do. How to make it better again.

“Save the world, yes. I can agree to that. I just need to know... what happens to me if I fail? Or if I succeed? What am I then?”

[nobroth]

He blinked. They were reasonable questions. They just weren't questions he'd expected. A moment and he said, "Well, if we fail, I guess we die. I mean. If we don't save the world... what choice do we have? I intend to go down fighting, but what you do at that point is up to you. If we succeed..." Alistair shrugged, sitting back a little in his seat. "I--

"Oh."

That was it. That was when it hit him what Reeve was really asking. What would happen to his freedom? Or was he even free now? Alistair tended to consider everyone free, but his background... Well. There was a reason why people called him shortsighted. This was part of it.

"I... If you succeed, you'd be a hero, I'd think. I'd offer to try to make you a Warden, but I don't think that's the greatest idea anymore. Maybe you should go to Ferelden. They did free their mages down there, even if the Chantry didn't like it. They helped so much during the Blight that that was what Anora decided."

After she'd exiled Alistair. But that wasn't pertinent.

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Well, they were more or less in Ferelden, but Reeve hadn't found it that welcoming. The people that employed him as a free mage had been using him for evil it turned out. And he frowns at the idea of being a hero. No one would ever accept a mage as a hero.

But he sighs and nods along.

"That seems a pipe dream."

[nobroth]

"Right now, a lot of things do," Alistair agreed, exhaling a sigh. "I...

"I don't know what to tell you." It was the truth. Or at least as close to the truth as even he, himself, could figure out. "I want to be able to say you'll be hailed and praised and celebrated, but we both know that mages tend to be looked at sideways as if someone let out a massive fart, no matter how ridiculous that is. I've... I've seen even perfectly sane blood mages, honestly." His mind went to Kirkwall. Yes, there were plenty there who were gone past blood magic and straight into Abomination, but there were also the ones who only used their own blood and were careful to keep their sanity close. "But I've also seen the opposite. It's not an excuse to doubt everyone, but it's... It's why I wish I could tell you people wouldn't be so..."

So.

So what? Prejudiced? Bigoted?

"So... ass-ish."

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Reeve chuckles and shakes his head. It's so beautiful to hear that word in Alistair's accent. It sounds... strangely formal.

"That will never happen," Reeve smiles, but he offers it softly to Alistair, like a gift. "Thank you. I'm grateful to you. For giving me this chance. I will work diligently and leave you alone otherwise."