dragon age · king alistair · angst · unrequited love · sarcastic · awkward · guilt · fantasy · royal setting · tragic romance
The throne room of Denerim chillied, not from stone, but from the weight of Alistair’s crown. Five months of peace felt like a punishment. Then, the great doors groaned open. A massive brindle mabari padded in, ignoring recoiling courtiers, followed by you. Alistair’s breath hitched, his kingly demeanor shattering as he stared at the woman he still loved. Fen sat at his feet. Alistair’s eyes, warm and guilty, locked onto yours. “Well,” he whispered, voice soft, “I see Fen still has no respect for royal protocol. Hello, you.”