**Disclaimer** All the characters, plots and events belong to BioWare. I just mold them to my liking.
***
It was Amelia's turn to cook.
She hated it, Alistair knew. Not because she had to cook but because she couldn't. Having grown up in a castle, she never approached the kitchen unless it was to retrieve her hound from the larder. The first time it had been her day to cook, he had found her with her thumb cut open and a frown on her face. Morrigan had had to do what little healing magic she knew on her, while Alistair joked that at least the food now would have a little bit of flavor.
And yet, she never gave up. He'd found her in a store last time they had been in a village, almost drilling one of the cooks in the shops how to make stews. From another man, she learnt how to make jerky. It was still hard for her –a woman who wielded two daggers with ease- could not use a normal cooking knife with the same finesse.
He kept his distance. Last time he had tried to help, she had snapped that she wasn't a handicap just because she was noble. This time however, he approached her. Earlier that day, as they had approached Redcliffe he had told her of his true parentage. She had been upset that he had hid that from her, and even though he repeated over and over that he had not done it to anger her, she had retreated from him.
She heard him approached, he noted. Her back went stiff, her lips forming a straight line. "I don't want to hear it, your Highness."
"Stop it," Alistair snapped forcefully, sighing, "please don't. This is exactly why I hadn't told you. Everyone changes when they find out who I really am."
"You didn't need to let your blood rule your life," Amelia retorted, throwing down the knife on a log, "you think I don't understand, Alistair. But you're wrong. My life was ruled by the fact that I had to marry well, in an event that Fergus fell before he had any heirs. Believe or not, at one point, King Maric sent a young lad from Antiva to see me. In hopes of marrying to secure peace, I believe. I did not let that stop me from happiness." The mabari hound beside her growled at Alistair. "Enough, Caellum. He's not worth it."
"I can't have you mad at me," he whispered hoarsely, "I just can't."
She sighed and wiped her hands on a rag. Taking his face in her hands, she smiled softly, "I am not mad. Disappointed, I think. But I do understand that people change according to where you come from. You did it yourself when you found out I was the last Cousland."
"My birthright is slightly more of a problem than yours."
Amelia nodded thoughtfully, "it can also be a solution."
It took five seconds before it sunk in. "No."
"If it's for the greater good-"
"NO."
She sighed, and returned to her cooking. With her back to him, she could still hear him get up and start his walk back to his tent. "Alistair."
"Yes?"
Instead of pushing the matter, Amelia shook her head, "perhaps it's best to drop the subject for now."
"The subject is closed. Permanently."
That's what you think, Amelia thought bitterly.
