A/N: Hope you had a fun Halloween, because here we go, children. Straight shot to the finish. Strap in.

Chapter 48

Meetings were ranked consistently low on Alistair's list of things he liked. Especially those involving his possible future as the ruler of Ferelden. It was just too stressful.

I wish I brought some cheese.

He stood by the door in Eamon's study, basking in his nervousness. Leliana stood firmly beside him. Moral support, Alistair found, was the next best thing to cheese in anxiety inducing situations. He was accompanied by Eamon, Aedan, Anora – Queen of Ferelden, daughter of Loghain and hid late half-brother's widow – and her handmaid, Erlina. They had been discussing the situation in the Alienage when the conversation had taken a turn towards the Landsmeet.

"You need evidence for the Landsmeet, but you also need a stronger candidate for the throne," declared Anora confidently after glancing at him briefly. "You need me."

Better you than me, sister.

"What of Alistair?" Eamon asked instantly. He sounded miffed.

"I have no doubt Alistair is biddable enough; and decent, but even with his blood he is no king," rallied the Queen. "You think only I can see this?"

"Bloody right," Alistair muttered but Leliana nudged him in the ribs.

Eamon opened his mouth to retort, but Anora went on.

"Not only that, Alistair is a Grey Warden. It will look like you are trying to put a Warden on the throne, despite your claims." She paused to let that fact sink in. "I am a neutral party-and I am already queen."

Eamon shook his head. "Anora, you are indeed Cailan's widow, but-"

"I am the daughter of Ferelden's greatest general," she replied, tilting her chin up pridefully. "Who do you think truly ruled this nation for the last five years? Cailan? I am what this country needs, not an untrained king who doesn't even want the throne." Ouch. "I can help you stop my father."

The room was silent, with Eamon taking stock. Anora scanned the room, saw that none were ready to venture opinions, and nodded to herself.

"Consider what I have said. For now, I think I shall retire to my room." She looked directly at Aedan. "Warden, when you have a moment I ask that you speak to me in private."

With that, she regally swept out of the room.

Or she would have, had Aedan not stopped her with a single word.

"No."

That one word fell like a thunderbolt in the quiet room. Alistair looked at his friend, who had not said a word during the entirety of the meeting, but had spent his time eating an apple. His tone betrayed no emotion, though his body language was relaxed. He stood leaning his back against the wall across the door from Alistair. The Queen raised a sculpted eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Certainly," replied Aedan though his attention seemed to be focused mainly on the apple. "I said no. No, you may not retire to your room for I have yet to say my piece."

It was unsettling for Alistair to see Aedan speak all proper-like. It shouldn't have been a surprise given his background, but it still struck him strange. Aedan pushed himself off the wall and offered Anora a smile.

"Let me begin by saying that I am rather tired of all this talk of blood and lineage. It gets so tiresome, really, hearing people drone on and on and on about it." He placed his half-eaten apple on the table and clasped his hands behind his back to address the room. "Well, my father was Teyrn Bryce Cousland. The Teyrnir of Highever is, as you may recall, the only other Teyrnir in Ferelden, other than Gwaren, which belongs to Regent Loghain Mac Tir." He fixed Anora with a chilly look, though his smile was in place. "My father was also a brilliant commander in the Orlesian conflict, and according to many, he should've been king instead of Cailan. Indeed, he was offered the throne, but he refused." He was silent a moment. "My mother, Eleanor Cousland, was the daughter of Bann Fearchar Mac Eanraig of the Storm Coast, a famous raider who was known as the Storm Giant. She was raised on the decks of a warship and sunk her first Orlesian man-of-war when she was fifteen.

"My parents were both heroes." Aedan tilted his head slightly. "But I am neither of my parents. So believe me, your Highness, what you think you hold as leverage is, in fact, a bluff. I could easily run for the throne myself and paint you as a turncoat, like your father. So please, let us not get into who is right or wrong for this country, because, from where I am standing, neither of you spent a whole year raising an army after starting out with just three people while fighting Darkspawn along the way."

Silence in the room. Anora quietly glared at Aedan, while Eamon looked slightly uneasy. Alistair had to make a concentrated effort to not break out smiling.

"Now that I have your attention, allow me to tell all present exactly how the Landsmeet will go," Aedan said, his smile widening. "First of all, you are right in assuming that Alistair is unfit to rule, your Highness; he isn't. And thus, he shan't be our bid for the throne. You will be."

"What?!" Anora and Eamon exclaimed in unison, though the latter sounded more incensed.

"I think we should run," Alistair whispered in Leliana's ear but she shushed him.

Aedan stood his ground. "I stand by what I just said. Alistair is unfit to be king. Anora has experience, and in this sort of thing, that matters most. More than lineage. And that brings me to the next point." He focused on Eamon now, and Alistair felt his anxiety grow.

"Lord Eamon, you took Alistair under your protection when you did not have to. For that act of selflessness, you have my thanks." Eamon inclined his head curtly. "However, in your quest to keep the blood of Calenhad on the throne, you overlooked one key thing."

"And what, pray tell, did I overlook?"

"You overlooked him." Aedan pointed at Alistair, who shrank away upon feeling all eyes turn on him. His solace lay in the fact that Leliana had taken his hand. "You raised him in a barn, you shipped him off to the Templars at the behest of your wife, but did you ever stop to think what he wanted? No.

"Maybe you didn't like him very much. He was a sign of King Maric's disloyalty to your sister, after all. Best to keep him away." Aedan shook his head and Eamon looked away. "Had he become a Templar, would you have put a lyrium addict on the throne? All for the blood of Calenhad?"

"Ferelden deserves-"

"Fuck Ferelden," Aedan snapped and Alistair winced. Statesman Cousland was in full-swing. "Yes, Alistair may be unfit for the throne. He may not understand diplomacy, or speak subtly, or play the Game, but in one category he has far outstripped all of us!" Aedan paused, took a breath and lowered his voice. "He has a good heart. He doesn't make decisions based on retaining or consolidating political power. That's what this country needs: to treat people like people for a change. Alistair Theirin is a good man, and I am bloody proud to call him my friend."

Lump in throat, lump in throat. Can't. Swallow.

"Unfortunately, good people finish last in this world of ours. My father was a good man. Cailan was a good man. And they were both betrayed and used. As was Alistair. Duncan used him, though neither he nor Alistair saw it as such. Alistair was so fed up with life that he leapt at the choice of being a Warden, knowing not the consequences. The royal bastard in the ranks? Lots of political wiggle-room. Duncan was clever. To be the Warden-Commander, you have to be. You, too, used Alistair as a pawn. He's convenient now, but where was your concern ten years ago?" Aedan clicked his tongue in disgust. "Near as far I can tell, I was the first person to give a shit about what Alistair wanted. And do you want to be king, Alistair?"

"Uhh." Just hang me out t dry, why don't you. "Not particularly, no."

"And why is that?" Aedan pressed.

"Because being king sounds really tiresome and I'm not good with making decisions and stuff."

"Exactly. Alistair is afraid of taking decisions," Aedan said. "I'll repeat that. Afraid of taking decisions. Why? Because somebody always took his decisions for him. His growth was stunted. His confidence was never given room to expand. And this is a direct consequence of your actions, Lord Eamon. You fucked him up for life."

Eamon said nothing. Neither did Anora. Aedan took a deep, steadying breath.

"So, we shall back Anora's bid to be Queen. Alistair gets to live his life and make his own choices." He sighed. "Now, before I leave to deal with this Alienage issue, one last bit of information for you, Lord Eamon." Eamon looked up, tired. "Your precious Calenhad blood is forever lost, as is the Cousland line. Grey Wardens are rendered infertile and sterile upon initiation. So even if you put Alistair on the throne and threw a platoon of whores at him, you would get no heirs. Good day."

With that, Aedan snatched up his apple and stormed out of the room.

Alistair looked at Leliana uncertainly but she held up their linked hands and cleared her throat.

"But that shall not stop us from loving each other," she announced cordially and bowed. Bloody hell, Leli! "Bonne journée."

Then, his hand still firmly in hers, Leliana led him out while he was still recovering from her stunt. Leliana just smiled at him.

"I swooped in," she said simply.

Alistair sighed. I suppose swooping isn't all bad... but I'll deal with this later. First things first.

"Wasn't that a bit too harsh?" he asked quietly when he caught up with Aedan but he shook his head.

"It's called overwhelming force. Hit them hard and keep hitting them so they can't get back up." Aedan looked at Leliana and bit into his apple. "Where's Tabris?"

"Resting in Wynne's room," she replied. "Why?"

"We're going to the Alienage, and she's coming with us."