133. To Crown a King

Alistair managed to put it off as long as possible... once they'd returned from Leliana's personal quest, he'd made a point to check in with all the other Wardens, then headed for the kitchen to snag the last bits of dinner. He'd lingered over the food, despite the fact that Eamon came in and gave him a look halfway through. And he stayed there, watching Alistair eat. As if Alistair would try to escape if he wasn't watched every minute.

A little true, maybe... but still.

Finally, Alistair's plate was clean, and he couldn't put it off any longer. He sighed and put down his fork. "All right."

Eamon nodded and started out of the room, and Alistair stood up and trudged after him.

They were all waiting for him in Eamon's study: Eamon, Teagan, Percival, Finian, and Anora.

This was bad.

Alistair closed the study door behind him and smiled sheepishly at everyone staring at him. Eamon stood at his desk, with Teagan at his shoulder. Percy and Fin were on one side of it, while Anora regarded him coolly from the other. Altogether, it was a little intimidating.

"Well, here we are. Hello. You wanted to talk to me?"

Finian smiled and stepped forward. "Alistair-"

"No. No, you stop right there." Alistair pointed at the elf. "I know that smile. That's your 'charm the eggs from the dragon' look. I'm not falling for it." He pointed to Percival. "You talk."

Finian grinned sheepishly and stepped back to lean against Eamon's desk.

Percival crossed his arms and said bluntly, "We need you to marry Anora."

"Um... what?" Yeah, he'd been worried it was something like that. He glanced over at the queen. "Her? You want me to marry her? Marry her?"

Anora crossed her own arms. "I apologize if I'm a burden."

"It's the solution that the Landsmeet is most likely to accept," Eamon said in that reasonable voice of his. "It keeps the Theirin bloodline on the throne, but alongside the queen they already know and adore."

"And you all decided this without me, did you?" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. These people were supposed to care about him. Maker. "I don't get a say?"

"Of course you do!" Fin cut in. "That's why we need you here to discuss it. We're not going to make you do anything you don't want to."

Alistair sighed and found a wooden chair to slump into. He could see Eamon frowning disapprovingly at his posture, but at this point, he didn't care. "Fine, let's discuss. Why should I give up my life as a Warden—a life I actually enjoy—to take this bloody crown?"

"Because it's what Ferelden needs," Finian said. The elf leaned back against Eamon's desk, completely at ease, apparently. "We need a figurehead, Alistair. Someone who's accessible, and loveable, and charismatic, which, like it or not, you are. People like you. It will help give them hope in and after a very difficult time. Meanwhile, Anora can keep running things from behind the scenes, just as she's always done." Fin gave him a conspiring smile. "Really, you'd need to rule very little."

"If all we need is someone charismatic," Alistair said, "why don't you do it?"

Fin laughed and flicked one of his pointed ears. "Elf, remember? The court would never accept me."

"I could do it," Percival broke in slowly, "if it is truly that detestable to you." Alistair perked up. "The Cousland bloodline holds sway among the nobility; they'd fall in line." Percy scowled. "Can't say I want it anymore than you, but it is an alternative."

"You know," Anora said with some annoyance, "you're not just getting me, here. Most men would kill for a chance at the throne."

Percy's jaw clenched and he looked about to say something, but Alistair beat him to it. "Yeah, your father made that pretty clear."

Anora went stark white, her eyes flashing in anger.

"The problem with Percy," Fin broke in, "is that he's a natural wartime leader. He'll inspire the armies all right, but as soon as peace comes, no one's going to know what to make of him."

Percival nodded at that. "The other thing to consider is that, if I take the crown, then you, Alistair, will likely be the one given the Ferelden Wardens."

Alistair struggled for words. "Bu... but me? Lead the Wardens? Why would that-"

Percival counted off points on his hands. "You're the most senior of us; you're always in the front line; you've got a decent tactical head; Meila doesn't have the charisma, Finian and Felicity don't have the battle presence, Garott wouldn't want to, no one knows Riordan, and Kazar would be a disaster. Ergo, it would fall to you."

Alistair rocked in his chair. It was an impossible decision, one where he couldn't see either side ending well. Either he'd mess up the Wardens, or he'd mess up the entire kingdom.

"But I wouldn't want to either..." he protested weakly.

"But you'd do it," Percy said.

Alistair lowered his head into his hands, because the noble had a point.

Soft footsteps moved in front of his chair, and hands gently pried his arms apart. Alistair opened his eyes to see Finian kneeling down in front of him, looking up at him with earnest brown eyes, and Maker, he was in trouble.

"We didn't decide this lightly, Alistair. We really do think you'd make a good king, and it's the best thing for Ferelden. The Landsmeet will accept you for your bloodline, and the citizens will adore you for your approachability. You'll be the Warden King during wartime, but you'll also be the fun, people's king during peacetime. There's no one else that fits that bill, and you'd do it well."

"I'll mess up. You know I will."

"You really think any of us would let you?" Fin smirked. "Eamon's going to be behind you every step of the way, and so will the rest of us. You think I'd turn down a chance to advise a king?"

A bark of laughter burst out of him. Yeah, good point. "But what about her?" He glanced up at Anora. "I don't... love her."

"I have no particularly fond feelings for you either," Anora returned levelly. "However, I, too, believe that this is what is best for Ferelden. As king, that would be your priority as well."

Alistair nodded, because that, he could get on board with. He sat upright, glancing around at the assembled schemers. "You really think this is the best way?"

Teagan nodded, and Eamon said, "We will not let you fail; do not fret."

Finian grinned, no doubt sensing victory, and when Alistair turned to Percival, the man said blithely, "I would make an awful king."

Alistair snorted, because he couldn't say he'd do much better. The mere thought of it was making him a little queasy. But, he sighed. "All right. You win. Let's go make me king." He frowned. "Wow, that leaves a funny taste in the mouth."

Fin chuckled, and everyone smiled, even Percival and Anora. It was surreal... a strange new reality where sweet Leliana was a retired spy, and Percival's brother was apparently alive, and Alistair was going to become a king of a whole country.

He wasn't sure he liked this world very much. He wondered if there was a way to turn it back; Felicity would probably know.

Andraste's knickers. Felicity.