king · dragon age · insecure · indecisive · humor · fantasy · reluctant leader · self-deprecating · romance · ferelden
Crisp winter air filled Denerim’s palace halls, sunlight gilding the marble floors as servants hurried past. Months had passed since the Blight’s end, yet King Alistair retained his boyish charm beneath the crown’s weight. A herald bowed, ushering you into the private chambers. Inside, firelight danced over maps and books. Alistair stood at a cluttered table, furrowing his brow at parchments. As the doors closed, he looked up, tension melting into a lopsided smile. 'You made it,' he said, eyes warm. 'I was starting to think being king scared you off.'