Alistair – Three weeks ago
Today was the day.
If Ashe said yes, it would be the happiest day of his life. But of course, he was a little worried that she might not. He knew that she knew that agreeing to be his wife meant she would become the Queen of Ferelden. And she could not be Inquisitor and Queen both – the nobles would never support it and Orlais would most likely threaten with war.
But if she renounced her title as Inquisitor and disbanded the organization, she would be welcomed as his equal. She was of noble birth, considered a hero even by those who did not believe she was the Herald of Andraste, although most people did believe it. He doubted people would stop calling her 'Your Worship' even though 'Your Majesty' would be more correct.
Alistair smiled at the thought. It fit her, both titles. She was a majestic creature, and worthy of worship. He wished he did not have to force her to choose, but there was nothing he could do about it.
And he could not wait any longer. The wedding needed to happen sooner rather than later, before fucking Cullen became suspicious. As far as that lowlife knew, Ashe was already engaged to become the Queen.
Alistair's attention returned to the room when a servant almost knocked over a vase filled with what must have been dozens of white roses.
"Careful with that," he snapped and the servant bowed his apologies several times.
Alistair almost regretted sounding so harsh, but he wanted everything to be perfect for the evening. Shattered glass and a wet carpet was the last thing he needed.
When his chambers were ready – flowers and candles everywhere – he sent the last servant out the door.
The sudden quiet made him swallow hard, his nerves suddenly on fire. He poured himself a tall glass of deep red and gulped it down too fast; spilling half of the contents on his shirt.
He cursed and pulled the stained garment over his head, and his heart almost stuck in his throat when he heard the door to his bed chamber open.
She can not be here already, I'm not even clothed!
He turned around and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was not Ashe, but quickly raised his eyebrows in confusion when he saw the two young ladies who had entered stop in front of him.
"Lady Lydia, Lady Corinne, to what..." He cleared his throat, acutely aware of how the girls were staring at his shirtless torso and trying to hide their giggles behind their hands. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? This is not really a good time -"
"Your Majesty, we heard terrible rumors that this might be your last night as a bachelor," Lydia said and closed in on him, Corinne right behind her, and both of them seized one of his arms each, clutching it to themselves like a prize.
"Say it is not so, Your Majesty!" Corinne pleaded, her voice exaggerated and full of false sweetness. Alistair shivered with displeasure and wondered to himself how he could ever have bedded either one of these opportunist girls. They were beautiful enough, and he supposed that was all he cared about, once. After becoming so numb after the terrible parting from Mahariel, before Ashe had brought him back to life again.
The thought of Ashe made him shake the girls off him immediately.
"It is so, my Ladies. So you see, you need to go now -"
"Oh, that is awful news, Your Majesty," Lydia interrupted him again. "But come on, have a little fun with us before you tie yourself down - forever." She started to loosen the strings on his trousers, while Corinne placed her hand on his inner thigh.
"We would not mind continuing this even after you have married, Your Majesty," Corinne whispered in his ear. "If your boring old wife stops putting out, you can fuck me or my sister any time you like. I would even be willing to carry your heir if it turns out that the Inquisitor is barren from all that ghastly, sparkling green magic she has been infected with, which seems most likely to me."
Lydia tugged his trousers down, which sprung Alistair out of the disbelief over what they were saying.
"Maker! Both of you, out!"
The girls giggled and took each other's arms and walked toward the door, but not before turning around to face him over their shoulders, winking and mouthing 'come find us' before blowing him kisses and disappearing out the door.
Alistair stood staring after them. The nerve of those girls, he wished he could have told them to get their sorry little asses out of his court, but their father was too important to risk pissing off.
He pulled up his trousers again and started to tie the strings when he heard the door open again.
"I thought I told you to..." He stopped what he was saying short when he looked up and saw Hawke standing there, looking ready to kill him.
Before he knew it, fists flew and blood splattered and dripped down into his eye.
Then Ashe arrived, and in a matter of minutes, everything was destroyed.
When she left, he did not even protest. What could he possibly say that would make her trust him? After his lies to Cullen had been revealed, and Ashe believing he had actually fucked those cursed girls, he did not blame her for walking out.
He tried to calm himself, tried to suppress the absolute blinding rage, the hatred he felt for Hawke in that moment. He wanted to choke the man to death, but he knew that touching a hair on the mage's head would only make Ashe despise him more.
He did not know if minutes or hours passed before what had just happened sunk in. He looked around, and all the fucking roses and the flames from the candles were mocking him. He did not stop until every vase was broken, every flame killed, and he finally sank to his knees, his hands bleeding from grabbing the thorns of the few, sad flowers he had left in his grip. He did not care about the pain – he welcomed it, even, and he pressed them harder into his palms until he realized that it was pointless. It could not distract him, not even a little, from the fact that in one single moment, all his dreams had been crushed, and his heart ripped out and fed to the dogs.
What in Thedas am I supposed to do now?