134. ...and to Lose a Knight

She was poring through the library, looking for all the information she could about the traditions they might encounter at the Landsmeet tomorrow. Etiquette books, and historical accounts of previous callings... what books she could find weren't particularly informative, but Felicity was good at reading between lines.

All the while, Riordan watched her with an amused smile.

She was still reeling, in many ways, after what he'd told her, though she supposed his explanation explained the reverence that the Grey Warden order was historically afforded, even if most of Thedas wasn't aware of the source.

Wardens gave their lives to slay the darkspawn... literally in the case of the archdemon. She could not help but consider the parallel between that and what Flemeth had intended to do to Morrigan. Could there be a way to do something similar to destroy Flemeth permanently? It would certainly warrant discussion with Morrigan, at the least.

Although... Felicity was loathe to tell this news to any of her companions. Even the other Wardens, their right to know notwithstanding. It was difficult news, and moreso that Duncan had not thought to tell any of them about it, even Alistair.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Felicity turned and found Alistair standing in the middle of the hallway, and jumped in surprise. Immediately, she could tell something was wrong... he looked at her with worried eyes, one hand tugging at his sleeve.

She set the books she'd been collecting aside, forgotten. "Alistair? Are you all right?"

"There's... something I need to talk to you about." His voice was hesitant and... apologetic? More worried by the moment, she cast a farewell nod to Riordan, who nodded back, and led Alistair out of the library. They searched for a couple minutes for somewhere private, but the estate was truly full to bursting at this point. Finally, Alistair took her hand and led her outside through a back door, leading into a small, enclosed garden.

The sun had set some time ago, leaving a scattering of stars above them. The garden was small, but well-kept, and the only light were torch sconces flickering on distant walls. It would have been romantic, had Alistair not looked so upset.

She stepped up and reached out to take his face, wanting to heal whatever was bothering him, but he only stepped back, out of her reach. "Alistair?"

"I..." He looked down and took a breath. Thickly, he said, "I'm so sorry."

She didn't approach him again, trying to fight down her own hurt at that reaction. This obviously wasn't about her. "Tell me what's wrong."

His fidgeting was getting disconcerting. "You know I... care about you, right?"

"Of course." She attempted a comforting smile. "Your somewhat fumbling overtures have made that adorably clear."

"Right. Well... um..." He tugged at his sleeve to the point where it nearly ripped, and she stepped forward to still his hands. Immediately, he turned the grip around and grasped her hands with silent desperation. Finally, he looked up and met her eyes. "You are an amazing woman, Felicity. You're smart, and lovely, and kind, and I've never met someone I wanted to be with more."

"You make it sound like you're breaking this off," she said weakly.

He looked away, and her stomach dropped.

She stepped back, and he let her go. "Alistair, what's going on? Is this about the Blight?"

"No... well, a little." He turned and paced a couple steps away, obviously agitated. That helped quell her own hurt. Finally, he turned back and announced, "They're making me marry Anora!"

Felicity took a moment to process that, and only came out confused. "The queen? But why would they... I don't understand."

"You don't know," he sighed. "Of course you don't know. I never told you." He kicked one of the retaining walls and then ran a hand roughly through his hair. "I never wanted you to know."

"To know what? Alistair, explain, please."

"I'm..." he glanced at her. "I'm King Maric's bastard son."

For the first time she could remember, her brain just... stopped. For a moment of time, she was utterly unaware of anything, her thoughts tripping over themselves in an attempt to make sense come from such a simple little sentence.

She found herself being guided to sit on a garden bench, Alistair peering at her worriedly.

"You're... a Theirin? I copulated with a Theirin?"

He hushed her softly. "Probably best not to air that part."

"Alistair, this makes you the only remaining heir to the throne!" Thought returned slowly. "...which is why you're to marry Anora. "

"I don't want to!" he said quickly. "If you don't want me to, just say so, and I'll walk away from all of it."

He was willing to turn down a throne for her? That was... amazingly romantic. Once, before everything, she might have been tempted. Now, she blinked tears back and shook her head. "No, you have to do it."

He blinked. "What, really?"

"You'd be a good king, Alistair." He stared at her as if she'd sprouted another head. She took his hands in hers. "Let us consider the evidence. You care about people, so much so that Loghain's betrayal at Ostagar has hit you personally. You bring people together and seek peace. Recall how you helped keep the peace amongst the bickering parties we were after Ostagar, even though you were in mourning yourself?" She squeezed his hands, and he stared down at their point of contact.

"I just... couldn't handle any more fighting when one another were all we had."

"You value connections, and peace. That is an important trait for a societal role that is largely mediation." He glanced up at her thoughtfully. "What's more, you are kind and merciful when you can be... you recall Isolde? You told me of her, and you obviously disliked her, but you were genuinely upset when we discovered that she had been allowed to sacrifice herself, because it was an avoidable harm. But you are also logical and just when you need to be. You could not have put down all the criminals we have encountered without that. These are markers of a good leader, Alistair."

He pouted, just a bit. "That's unfair. You're biased."

"I am." She met his gaze earnestly, even while her eyes burned with incoming tears. "Even so, between that and your lineage, it stands that you are the logical choice to take over once Loghain is handled."

He looked down again, and squeezed her hands gently. "And you won't regret what that means... for us?"

"Of course I will!" Now she was crying in earnest, because she really, really would. "I want more than anything for us to be able to run away from all this. To go live by the sea somewhere, where it doesn't matter that I'm a mage, or you're a bastard, or that there was ever such a thing as darkspawn. I want to raise little blond terrors with you... and that's just ridiculous, because even if two Wardens could reliably procreate, everyone knows that dark hair is genetically dominant over blond..." She lowered her head against a sob, and he gathered her into his arms. She let herself indulge in it, just this one last time.

"But," she said through her tears, "it is the nature of the Grey Wardens to sacrifice ourselves for the good of all. I cannot be selfish, Alistair. Not in this."

"I want that too," he said thickly. "But Ferelden needs a king. I have to do it, otherwise it'll be Percy, and that's just going to give all the little Ferelden children nightmares."

Felicity laughed and sobbed at the same time, because he was still trying to joke, even now, and she would miss that.

"I love you, Felicity. Just thought you had the right to know... before everything."

She nodded and hugged him, burrowing into his warmth. "The sentiment is... mutually reciprocated," she managed thickly.

He didn't need to confirm the meaning of her words. Judging by the way he held her tight, he understood. Then again, he always had.