Dragons and Thrones: A Reborn Terror
Chapter 10 of my crossover story; a brand new POV character, hope you enjoy.
Reviews
Marina Ka-Fai: Thanks.
Boris Yeltsin: Thanks, glad you enjoyed it :)
Veridissima: Thanks, glad you enjoyed it, glad you liked them :)
Wolfgirl2013: Thanks :)
wazzup11: Thanks, glad you enjoyed it, things should still be interesting with Dorian present.
mr I hate znt nobles kill em: Well, we can only wait and see what is happening, however I should point out, all Cersei did was reveal the existence of the Qunari to Tyrion.
UmbraVenator: Well, here's your answer, enjoy :)
Now onto the story.
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones belongs to George R.R. Martin. Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.
Alistair
Standing by the window, looking out over the city of Denerim in Ferelden; King Alistair Theirin sighed. Alistair was thirty years old, with short slicked back blonde hair; brown eyes and fair skin. He had a toned muscular build and was clad in the usual regal clothing along with fur lining the collar and shoulders. He secured his sword to his waist as he finally turned away from observing Denerim.
'Everything looks peaceful; but just beneath the surface there is tension.' He noted to himself. 'It's not the usual tension you expect to find in a Kingdom; the kind that's always there. It's different, very different. It's hard to believe I've been King for nearly ten years now.'
It was true; back during the Fifth Blight, he had been helping the Hero of Ferelden; the Grey Warden that ended the Blight; he was a fellow Grey Warden and, following the disastrous battle of Ostagar, they were the last two Wardens in Ferelden.
In the end however, things had ended on a tense note for him and the Hero of Ferelden; when despite their plans to get revenge on Loghain Mac Tir for betraying Ferelden and leading to the Grey Warden's almost destruction, the Hero of Ferelden instead made Loghain a Grey Warden.
Feeling betrayed Alistair left the Wardens and the group that were travelling with the Hero of Ferelden and instead took up his duties as King of Ferelden, which technically was his birthright, being the bastard son of King Maric and half-brother to King Cailin who died at Ostagar.
As the last surviving male member of the line, the throne passed to him, but as a concession, despite his misgivings, he ended up marrying Cailin's widow, Anora, who was also the daughter of Loghain.
Alistair shook his head as he considered his past.
'Looking back, it's almost, shameful how I reacted. But still, it worked out for the best in the end.' He noted to himself.
He heard movement behind him and turned, standing there was Anora; he smiled gently. His wife was older than him, by six years, but none the less; he could not deny she was a beautiful woman. She had medium length blonde hair tied back, brown eyes, fair skin and was clad in a brown and cream coloured regal dress; her court clothes. Her eyes were penetrating and cautious.
"I certainly hope you're not hiding from your duties Alistair." She remarked.
Alistair shook his head lightly. "Of course not Anora; I was waiting for you, are you ready to begin?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd say that; a ruler must always be ready Alistair, as I've told you several times before."
Alistair nodded; truthfully, Anora was far better at statecraft than he was. However he was eager to learn and from day one had been learning from Anora; much to her initial surprise. While initially cold at first, due to Alistair's dispute with her father, he and Anora had grown closer over the years, gradually developing a mutual respect.
As for if their relationship had developed into love, well, that was a private matter between the two of them. So, prepared for their upcoming meeting in the throne room, were people had come to petition the throne with their problems, they walked together for the throne room at once.
They entered the throne room; the people already within went quiet, watching as they entered. They worked things out that, in order to ensure that there would be no question of their authority; they presented a united front in the throne room. They walked in together, their arms linked; they did it practically every time both of them entered the throne room.
It wasn't until their relationship grew and changed that they started doing so subconsciously. They sat down on their thrones; ready to begin; at their side stood an elderly man, also clad in regal robes, with snowy white hair and a similar beard and moustache and black eyes. This was Eamon Guerrin; Uncle to King Cailin and now the Royal Advisor, as well as the former Arl of Redcliffe and older brother of the current Arl, Teagan.
"Order, everyone come to order!" Eamon called out. "Now, we are ready to begin."
Alistair straightened up on his throne and then spoke. "We shall hear the first petition now."
One of the citizens of Denerim moved forwards and bowed, ready to begin. The petitions were along the usual lines and with a few comments here and there from Eamon, Alistair and Anora were able to resolve the problems without many issues.
Alistair pondered however, an emerging pattern. 'They are all worried, rightfully so, about these new…lands. I have to confess, I am worried too.'
He knew very little, after all, about these new lands. They had just appeared after the explosion that, he now heard, had claimed the life of Divine Justinia and several others. This was enough to put anyone on edge.
'I can only imagine the chaos in Orlais right now. Still, things don't seem much better here. We must do what we can to help ease them.' He noted to himself.
During a reprieve Alistair took a careful look at the rest of the petitioners before turning to Anora.
She had a pensive expression on her face as she carefully observed the petitioners herself; something seemed to be bothering her.
Nonetheless, Alistair knew he had to speak. "I'm beginning to notice a pattern here; everybody is sharing concerns about these new lands."
"Indeed, I'm not surprised; we know next to nothing about them, or their people." Anora remarked. "We've got to try and establish contact somehow; the question is, how."
Alistair agreed, but right now, they had to consider the remaining petitions and so they prepared for the next man to step forwards. The man stepped forwards and Alistair tensed, narrowing his eyes. Something wasn't right about this man; he didn't look Ferelden, or Orlesian or even Thedosian. Then there was the strange way he moved, the way he didn't make eye contact with either monarch. He bowed and began to speak.
"I come, Your Majesty, with but one purpose…" He remarked.
It was in the tone of voice, the way he seemed to only address Alistair, something no Thedosian would do, then the almost imperceptible movement of his hand. The man suddenly lunged forwards, drawing a dagger from his sleeve and attempted to assassinate Alistair; much to the shock of all those present. Alistair however still retained his Grey Warden training and skills; as such, he easily caught the Assassin's arms, stopping the attack and then, finally, forcibly disarmed him, knocking him to the ground.
"Seize him, quickly!" He called out.
But then, before anything could be done, the Assassin reacted quickly.
He quickly pulled himself up from the floor and raised a glass vial with an unknown liquid in it, before Alistair could stop him; the man drank from the vial, confirming Alistair's thoughts, poison.
"Glory to the Elder One!" The man cried in a strangled voice before dying.
Silence reigned after that; as all eyes were on the corpse of the would be Assassin.
End of chapter, hope you enjoyed it, read and review please.