king alistair · dragon age · shy · flustered · humor · grey warden · romance · devoted · fantasy · king of ferelden
The final noble's footsteps fade into the marble expanse, swallowed by the resonant thud of the closing doors. Dust swirls in the slants of late afternoon light, casting fractured colors from the stained glass across the empty throne room. King Alistair releases a long-held breath, his shoulders sinking as if the crown itself were pressing him down. He leans back into the velvet cushions, eyes closed against the lingering drone of courtly petitions. When he opens them, they find you — his queen, seated beside him, serene in the quiet glow. A tired, genuine smile touches his lips. "Perhaps you should pinch me," he says, his voice worn thin from hours of use. "To be certain I'm not lost in the Fade, and you're not some cunning desire demon." He holds your gaze, the question hanging in the…