Chapter 54

"You were right," said Leliana gleefully. "This is fun!"

"Isn't it?" Alistair grinned ear-to-ear. "I am so glad you feel the same way."

"I always thought you used your dolls to pantomime fights."

"Hey! They're not dolls, okay?"

"Yes, yes."

"Every figurine has a name, a personality and a backstory," Alistair said in defence of his hobby. "I use them to tell stories, and take down notes in my journal. It's like theatre. Except free."

Leliana nodded as she flipped through the pages. "Your fight choreography is very nice, though the storytelling could use some work. For example, why would Elizabeth react with violence to Fitzwilliam when she could just use sarcasm? She is a woman of culture, after all."

"Ah." Alistair cleared his throat. "That would be, uh, because I knew nothing about women at the time." He sighed. "Not that that's changed much over time, honestly."

"Oh, Alistair, I think you're better than you think you are," Leliana replied with a smile and closed the journal. "But if I may, how would you like to adopt one of the stories in my collection for your... figurine theatre?"

"Um, yes please!" Alistair crossed his legs and sat on the bed, clutching a pillow to his lap. "Your stories are so much better than mine."

"I don't know about that, but here is one you may like." Leliana cleared her throat. "This takes place during Ferelden's war of independence against Orlais."

Alistair fought the urge to clap and chirp 'War story! War story!' and instead hugged his pillow tighter.

"The Olesian Empire levied heavy taxes on the Fereldan farmers. One man refused to pay, and was accused of tax evasion. So the military visited the farm and had the man and his young son watch as they raped the mother-"

"What the shit-"

"But the father later killed the soldiers who did it and escaped with his son. They lived for many years as runaways, forming bands with other desperate Fereldans to eke out a living however they could. While living as outlaws, they met a young man who wanted to aid the freedom effort. So the boy took this young man to an Arl to protect him from the Orlesian forces. The young revolutionary was betrothed to the Arl's daughter, but they weren't in love, and the farmer boy started a romance with her."

Alistair frowned. "That isn't confusing at all."

"Maybe so, but it makes for some great angst!" Leliana insisted.

"Yes, I'm sure. But what happened next?"

"Oh. The relationship was short-lived and after Ferelden's liberation, he encouraged the woman to marry her betrothed. Though they used to be on good terms, this strained their relationship and the farmboy did not see much of either one of them anymore."

Alistair sighed and shook his head. "Well, that was just depressing. What happened to the farmboy? He deserved better. I actually feel bad for him."

"He went on to become one of the greatest war heroes Ferelden has ever seen. His name is Loghain Mac Tir. The woman was Rowan Guerrin, Arl Eamon's sister. The rebel was Maric Theirin, your father."

He looked at her blankly, unable to form a single coherent thought. Leliana smiled wryly and reached out to hold his hand.

"The Landsmeet is tomorrow," she said. "Whatever happens, I want you to make an informed decision."

"Yeah," Alistair said eventually and sighed deeply. "Yeah. Thanks. I appreciate it."

Leliana hummed. "Come on, then. Take up your dolls, Alistair."

"Hey, they're not dolls, okay?"

"Yes, yes."