Alistair Theirin
King of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
- Posts
- 123
To say that Alistair was embarrassed would be putting it mildly. He’d flattered himself that he had this sneaking out routine pretty well down, but a pretty face and some familiar names had tripped him up with humbling ease. If he’d been alone, it might have been easier to shrug it off, but having dragged along a guardsman whose honor would not let him allow the King to be out unprotected, he’d promptly done the one thing that would make Donal's job more difficult.
Fortunately, while Nicolette had Orlesian blood, she did not seem to be a bard who had been lurking in the city on the off chance that the King of Ferelden might present himself as an easy target for assassination. Or if she was, she was biding her time. Her look of wide-eyed surprise certainly seemed genuine, but Alistair had seen Leliana dissemble often enough to know just how easily it could be done by pretty much anybody who wasn’t him.
Donal seemed more amused than alarmed, which was reassuring … but also more than a little embarrassing. And frustrating. He’d gone out tonight because he was tired of being treated like a child who needed a babysitter, but that was just what he felt like at the moment. Bernie, astute as always, had picked up on the sudden change in currents at the table, and was watching/not watching from the corner of her eye as she chatted with a patron at the bar. Alistair didn’t want to get Nicolette in trouble with her employer; she hadn’t done anything wrong.
After a moment, her surprise softened into a kind smile that made his heart skip a beat or two. “There is nothing to concern you, James,” she told him, the faintest emphasis on his alias. “It is safe with me.” The light press of her fingers on the back of her hand was very plainly a reassurance and not an attempt at seduction, but it still added to the flutter in his chest. She was so very pretty … and she might as well have been on the dark side of one of the moons, as far as he was concerned, damn it.
“Thank you,” he told her with quiet sincerity, Donal adding his nod, a faintly approving gleam in his eyes sending a stab of envy that Alistair pushed down doggedly. Just because he couldn’t pursue anything with the lovely lady was no reason to deny the guard the chance, if he chose. Alistair was the King of Ferelden; he literally had women lined up to meet him, wanting to be his bride! It was good to be king, right?
Yeah, he didn’t think so, either. There was more intelligence and compassion in those pretty golden eyes than he generally saw in a week of entertaining countless nobles’ daughters, but that didn’t change what was.
“Leliana was well, when last we saw each other,” she answered his earlier question as though the awkward interlude had never happened. “She accompanied me as far as the vineyards in the south, at which point we had to part ways. She is an extraordinary woman, is she not? I am immensely adverse to fighting, but she taught me a few techniques with blades that would allow me to defend myself without taking a life, when I am travelling alone.”
He smiled, unable to help the wistful edge. “Yeah, that sounds like her,” he agreed, “and it’s a good idea to be able to fight at least a bit if you’re traveling alone. I’ll bet this fellow takes good care of you, though.” He looked down at Thibault, scrubbing his knuckles across the broad head in the way that Aedan’s mabari had always liked. “Don’t you, boy?”
The tail wagged furiously. Yes, yes, yes!
An idea came to him suddenly. “You like stories?” he asked Nicolette, turning it over in his head. “I know one that I could tell you … and show you where it happened.” He looked to Donal. “Drakon?” Asking, not telling. He might have blown his cover, but their agreement was still very much in effect.
The guard’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he cocked his head, considering. “That would work,” he agreed after a moment, the approval in his expression for Alistair now.
Pleased, Alistair turned back to Nicolette. “The roof of Fort Drakon is where the archdemon was killed,” he told her. “I can get us up there if you want to see where it happened while I tall you the story.”
“View’s nice, too,” Donal put in.
“I’m definitely not as good at telling stories as you and Leliana,” he told her, “but … I was there.” No boasting, simply stating a fact. He had been there, and he had helped bring it down, but as with the rest of that desperate year, if not for his companions, he would never have survived.
Fortunately, while Nicolette had Orlesian blood, she did not seem to be a bard who had been lurking in the city on the off chance that the King of Ferelden might present himself as an easy target for assassination. Or if she was, she was biding her time. Her look of wide-eyed surprise certainly seemed genuine, but Alistair had seen Leliana dissemble often enough to know just how easily it could be done by pretty much anybody who wasn’t him.
Donal seemed more amused than alarmed, which was reassuring … but also more than a little embarrassing. And frustrating. He’d gone out tonight because he was tired of being treated like a child who needed a babysitter, but that was just what he felt like at the moment. Bernie, astute as always, had picked up on the sudden change in currents at the table, and was watching/not watching from the corner of her eye as she chatted with a patron at the bar. Alistair didn’t want to get Nicolette in trouble with her employer; she hadn’t done anything wrong.
After a moment, her surprise softened into a kind smile that made his heart skip a beat or two. “There is nothing to concern you, James,” she told him, the faintest emphasis on his alias. “It is safe with me.” The light press of her fingers on the back of her hand was very plainly a reassurance and not an attempt at seduction, but it still added to the flutter in his chest. She was so very pretty … and she might as well have been on the dark side of one of the moons, as far as he was concerned, damn it.
“Thank you,” he told her with quiet sincerity, Donal adding his nod, a faintly approving gleam in his eyes sending a stab of envy that Alistair pushed down doggedly. Just because he couldn’t pursue anything with the lovely lady was no reason to deny the guard the chance, if he chose. Alistair was the King of Ferelden; he literally had women lined up to meet him, wanting to be his bride! It was good to be king, right?
Yeah, he didn’t think so, either. There was more intelligence and compassion in those pretty golden eyes than he generally saw in a week of entertaining countless nobles’ daughters, but that didn’t change what was.
“Leliana was well, when last we saw each other,” she answered his earlier question as though the awkward interlude had never happened. “She accompanied me as far as the vineyards in the south, at which point we had to part ways. She is an extraordinary woman, is she not? I am immensely adverse to fighting, but she taught me a few techniques with blades that would allow me to defend myself without taking a life, when I am travelling alone.”
He smiled, unable to help the wistful edge. “Yeah, that sounds like her,” he agreed, “and it’s a good idea to be able to fight at least a bit if you’re traveling alone. I’ll bet this fellow takes good care of you, though.” He looked down at Thibault, scrubbing his knuckles across the broad head in the way that Aedan’s mabari had always liked. “Don’t you, boy?”
The tail wagged furiously. Yes, yes, yes!
An idea came to him suddenly. “You like stories?” he asked Nicolette, turning it over in his head. “I know one that I could tell you … and show you where it happened.” He looked to Donal. “Drakon?” Asking, not telling. He might have blown his cover, but their agreement was still very much in effect.
The guard’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he cocked his head, considering. “That would work,” he agreed after a moment, the approval in his expression for Alistair now.
Pleased, Alistair turned back to Nicolette. “The roof of Fort Drakon is where the archdemon was killed,” he told her. “I can get us up there if you want to see where it happened while I tall you the story.”
“View’s nice, too,” Donal put in.
“I’m definitely not as good at telling stories as you and Leliana,” he told her, “but … I was there.” No boasting, simply stating a fact. He had been there, and he had helped bring it down, but as with the rest of that desperate year, if not for his companions, he would never have survived.