Two Alistair/PC Oneshots (tiny endgame spoilers)

So here it is, my very first attempt at fancfiction.
Thanks go to vehlr for her encouraging words and for beta-reading .


Title: Of Kings and Queens
Word Count:1,005
Spoilers: If you have not been to the Landsmeet, then you probably shouldn't read this.
Pairing: Alistair/female human noble



He wished he could blend in with the furniture like he did in Arl Eamons study whenever the subject turned to him beeing king.
I have a suprising talent for imitating bookshelves it seems. Must be some side effect from my Templar training...
But there was very little furniture in the hall yet many nobles who watched him with great interest as they strode through the doors.
After the first mention of a Landsmeet held to put his very self on the throne he tought it would not go this far.
Surely someone more capable, more deserving, even more willing would step forward and take this unwanted responsibility from his shoulders.
But nobody ever did.
Since when exactly is beeing king so undesirable to all? Normally everybody and their brothers had opinions on how to rule Ferelden, than why in the Makers name am I suddenly the only one who is still in the competition?

As he let his gaze wander over the gathering of nobles in the hall-
The majority of them more fit to become king than I..
-his eyes landed on Loghain himself, scowling as he noticed the arrival of their little group.
Well I guess there is my answer. Who would voluntary opppose this man?
His eyes moved onto a sole person striding purposefully directly before the imposing former hero of Ferelden.
Well, I guess, we are. Lucky us!
Her whole body was drawn up to her full height, shoulders tense and even with her back to him he could guess her expression.
Not angry, not furious but also not impassive. She would surely look like everytime she was confronted with an obstacle on her way to end the Blight. He knew this look all too well.
No small wonder, hindrances plunge on our path like horse droppings.
What a fitting comparison, they usually smell even as bad and are as sticky.
Suddenly he knew why it was her and the Arl doing the talking and not him.
Yeah, no time like the Landsmeet to introduce the nobles to my very special brand of talking. I can already see the dissertation of brother whats-his-name on the subject of king Alistairs fateful landsmeet on which he won his throne by having the entire gathering of nobles in stitches...

His attention returned unwillingly to the present because all at once silence settled over the hall, which was in his opinion never a good sign.
Looking forward to the scene in front of him revealed the cause for the sudden hush in the noble ranks.
Nefris was still standing right before MacTir, but between them stood now two heavily amored guards who looked like they itched to sink their spears into her.
He also realised that he was too far behind at the end of the hall to do anything should they decide to give in to the itch.
Oh great, this was really a absolutely fitting time to daydream. Not like this is the best oppurtunity to get rid of all of us, nuissances that we are to Loghain...
He tried to creep forward inconspiously, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. Out of the corner of his eye he took notice that Leliana had already succeded in this task. Standing far away from Nefris to not stand out too much but simultanously near enough to be of assistance sould fighting break lose.
Like, you know, I should perhaps do too?
Wynne was wisely hanging back, to not get swarmed should things get rough.

From his new vantage point directly to the left of Nefris he got confirmation on his earlier musings of the look on her face. Her brows were drawn together over her eyes which looked like they were made of steel.
Determined to see this through to the last second, I see.
Her normally rosy and lush lips looked almost like a white line so drawn were they.
Marvellous, now you done it! Thinking about her lips! Just kiss all rational thought goodbye, not like you will see any of it in the next half hour or so...Hm kissing...

But her voice broke his chain of thought thankfully. She was talking lividly her voice rousing the nobles, a few of them now mumbling in agreement with whatever accusation she was laying at Loghains feet.
He didn't need to hear the exact words, he knew damn well all of the Teryns failings.
Some personal, some through his chain of command, but all leading directly to his doorstep.
None of them were new to him, but a especially two stood out.
Duncan., Cailean and the entire army at Ostagar...
Nefris entire family falling by Arl Howes order...
Her voice was still resonating through the hall, laying the accusations out one by one, for the whole landsmeet to hear. Every word punctuated with pure resolve to make them see, make them realise just how much was at stake here.
The hushed voices of the Arls and Banns grew louder bit by bit, until they filled his ears.
Not unlike of angry villagers they are. Suppose the reactions of wronged people are universally the same, no matter their birth. Shame there are nor pitchforks or torches found in here!

And in the center of all this commotion they stood. Loghain seemingly unsure for the first time since this whole tragedy started, Nefris never looking more determined to see this through.
He was not in the least surprised to see their positions reversed like this, considering the evidence of just how many bodys the Teryn had in his closet.
But it took him back just how regal she looked, how self-confident her entire posture was.
It shouldn't suprise me. She was raised to do this, to speak to people, to make them bow to her command. To even make them wish to follow her every step.
To rule...
She was born to be a queen.
And for the very first time in his life Alistair wanted to be king.

Title: Morrigans Gift
Word Count: 687
Spoilers: End-game spoilers, so beware.
Pairing: Alistair/female human noble


After the battle Nefris dragged herself the into the next room inhabiting a bed.
Slumping down on it she mused for a moment just how high getting out of this armour was on her list of priorities. After a rather unsuccessful attempt to remove her left glove she realised that is was far down, probably right between standing up again and dancing the Remigold.

Dejected she let herself fall back and immediately regretted doing so because the scales on her armour were digging painfully into her sore flesh. During her rather pitiful efforts to get more comfortable by rolling about to find the one spot on her body that was not covered in bruises a faint rustling sound got her attention.

This was definitely a more papery sound than any blanket had the right of making. After a rather frustrated sigh Nefris heaved herself into a position one could with much imagination call sitting.

There was a small package lying behind her.

Well this is odd.

Knocking it out of the way with her elbow she resumed her almost but not quite relaxing position on the bed. From this perspective it almost looked like there was a note attached to it. If she turned the package slightly up she would be able to read it. Instead Nefris tried to angle her head to satisfy her curiosity. Seems like she would have no such luck.

Damn, so moving it is.

The parcel was thankfully small and light so she realised. But the moment her eyes set on the all too familiar hand of the note her heart grew heavy. She had seen it before in notes scribbled rather careless inside a grimoire. Flemeth's grimoire to be precise.

Morrigan.

This did not bode well and could only mean two things. Either she left Denerim already or it was something the sorceress was not comfortable enough to tell her straight to her face. Nefris suspected that the former was the case, seeing as Morrigan never had any problems with speaking her mind.

For a moment she mused if she should just close her eyes and let sleep claim her. Surely she had earned her rest and there would be time later to deal with this. But she also knew that there was no time like the present to be done with it. Reaching for the note she allowed herself one last heavy sigh before opening it.


'Tis a shame that I must sneak away before I could have had words with you one last time, but considering our situation 'tis probably wise.
This does not come easily to one such as I, but you must be aware that you have earned my esteem through our joined ordeal. Even if our opinions do differ greatly on more than one subject you have always treated me with respect and you will find me not ungrateful for that.
But I fear that my own assistance in your survival ,though not unkindly meant, left a bitter aftertaste in our relationship. Perhaps you know that this was in no circumstance my intention, but to clarify I send you this.
'Tis no poison, though if you wish to test it your welcome. The Circle mage could tell you as much if you want to initiate her,which I would advise considering your nonexistent skills in herbalism.
I'm sure you would find some use for this special receipt.
Every king needs his heir and would it not be a shame to have gone through all of this just to see it crumble because there is no following generation of royalty to be had?
I truly hope for you and the rest of this nation that your heredity will be more prevalent in your offspring than his so called wit and irreverence.

Sincerely, your friend

Suddenly her chest felt like it could burst any moment, like there was no room any more in ther for this constantly swelling. Her heart skipped a beat and with the next she was already on her feet clutching the parcel under her arm faintly smelling dry herbs.

Now, where to find Wynne...

I like that you considered the implication in Wynne's comment that "There are ways to avoid such things," when she discusses the conception of children. It is very sweet to have Morrigan providing for the future of Ferelden.

While I think that the future of Ferelden is her external justification,I thinkt that deep down it's more a favor to a friend.
At first I really disliked Morriagn, but she did grow on me at the second playthrough.
After writing this I'm really itching to delve a little deeper in this strange friendship they both share. Perhaps I do so in the near future, if the plotbunnies grow too wild.