Title: Freedom
Pairing: f!Amell/Alistair/Anders
A/N: How I think being King Alistair's mistress would have gone.
)O(
"No one can make the king do anything he doesn't want to."
You made him king. That was the right thing to do, even knowing that the nobles would never accept a mage as their queen. But those words are purely selfish. You do it out of passion and lust, because you are young and naïve, and you can't imagine life without him. You have all these fantasies about being the king's mistress - thanks to those books at the Tower - and in them everything is how it was before: you are free.
In truth, it is nothing like you pictured it. There is no passion, no lust. You lie awake in a dark room while he is fast asleep beside you, exhausted from the days work and your…exertions together.
You must be careful not to be too loud unless there's a guard placed at the door who can keep a secret.
That's what you are: a secret...his dirty little secret.
And that's only on the good days.
On other days, like when he has a meeting, he dresses frantically and keeps missing buttons. It doesn't help that his hands are shaking. You move to help him, your body still tangled in the sheets. And then, mumbling his thanks and something about loving you, he disappears.
Finding the low-cut robe he'd bought you lying on the floor, you slip it on and stare at the hideous wallpaper. It's all hearts and roses…mocking you.
It is the reason you stayed, the reason you keep coming back; because you have nowhere else to go. The Tower is not a home. And even though you hate to admit it, your heart still flutters when he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, aching to believe.
But the words that speak true are the ones you don't say.
You never tell him that you think about leaving sometimes.
And he doesn't tell you about his wife, or his daughter, or how happy he is.
Arl Eamon is speaking, and your name comes up more than once. Pressing your ear against the cold wood of the door, you try to listen in on the conversation, but the rapid beating of your heart makes it difficult.
Alistair is defending you.
"...I don't care, Eamon, I love her. You of all people should understand that. Didn't everyone say you shouldn't marry Lady Isolde because she was Orlesian?"
"That was different, Alistair. I was not the king and Isolde was not-"
"-A mage? People hated Orlesians almost as much as they do mages."
"Be that as it may, their hatred runs deep, but their fear runs deeper." There is a pause.
"I don't believe it," Alistair speaks quietly, and you can hear the victorious smile in his voice. "You're afraid of her!"
"Alistair..." the Arl sighs.
"I knew it! This isn't about the nobility at all, is it? It's about you!"
"No; this is about her and the queen. Is this really fair to either of them? Is it really fair to allow yourself this kind of...distraction?"
"Don't..."
"I have to, Alistair, someone has to remind you of your duty. You have a responsibility to your country and your family-"
"-Don't." the king hisses back. "Don't you think I know that? None of this is fair. What about me? What about her? I owe that woman everything and I can't just tell her to go away. She has done more for this nation than you or anyone else. Look, I never asked to be king, but I am, and no one can make me do anything I don't want to."
Magic swells up inside of you, deep in your veins, warm and exciting...
And suddenly you remember why you fell in love, and why you stay.
It hurts the most when you're alone, on the nights he spends with his real family. Though he assures you that he would rather be where you are, because he still loves you just enough to lie. It may have taken time but he cares for the queen, and of course he loves his child. But where does that leave you?
Sitting alone in a tavern…too drunk to remember what you came here to forget.
All you know for sure is that you've hit rock bottom.
Eventually you can't bear to see him because he's lost that mirth in his eyes. And you can smell another woman's scent on him; flowery and imported from a distant land.
You gather all your courage and leave when the realization hits that you simply aren't happy anymore.
Maybe you'll find that distant land.
And it's just a coincidence that you are called away to Amaranthine to be the new Warden-Commander.
And it's just a coincidence that you happen to meet someone who reminds you so much of him, even though this one is a mage who hates the Circle almost as much as you do and values his freedom above all else.
The longer you spend away from Alistair, the happier you are.
You trade one addiction for another.
"So do you have any plans tonight?" Alistair asks. He'd come here on official business, but you've actually enjoyed his company more than you thought you would.
You have found yourself, and no one – not even him – can take that away from you.
"Actually," you reply with a smirk, "I have a date."
The king chokes on his wine.
"A date...?" he manages at last. "With…who…?"
Just then there is a knock at the door. It is Anders of course. He hands you a dozen roses and Alistair falls out of his chair in shock. You are smiling so wide that your lips actually hurt.
"You're not really…with him…are you?"
"Your Majesty," the mage smiles, "I do believe we've met before."
"Oh yes, I remember who you are, apostate."
Templar. Thankfully, the word does not leave his tongue. A gentle squeeze to the arm is enough to remind him that Alistair is still the king, and therefore still has the power to make his life miserable.
"That's Grey Warden to you." he says instead. "Or just Anders, you know whatever you prefer, I'm not picky."
Alistair turns his gaze to you, and suddenly you can't speak. His eyes are pleading with you to stay, telling you he loves you, that he always loved you. But you force yourself to remember how unhappy you were with him towards the end. And you know now that things will never be like when it was just the two of you against the world.
"My lady…?" Anders is waiting by the door, beckoning for you to follow. So you turn, and do not look back.
And you are free at last.
