Catie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toffeecat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2017-04-08 12:36 am
toffeecat) wrote in fandomweekly2017-04-08 12:36 am
Entry tags:
[#038] Theirin Blood (Dragon Age)
Theme Prompt: #038 - Bloodline
Title: Theirin Blood
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating/Warnings: G / none
Bonus: No
Word Count: 976
Summary: He was supposed to become king?
They could not make him. They could not make him do that. After all Alistair had done for Ferelden already, for his country if Eamon had his way, they were still asking for more. His objections did not matter anymore, of course; and why should they, now, when it had been decided with election and endorsement and everything. But that did not make it any more believable to him.
He would have laughed if the situation had not been that absurd. He was supposed to become king? The bastard son they had spirited away after his birth so no-one found out? The babe his father had all but forced onto Eamon, only for him to cast him out a couple of years later? The child who had grown up with the knowledge that he did not belong, never would, and that he did not have a future at court? Were they even listening to themselves?
Well, that was not it. Not really. Yes, this side of his family has caused all the hardships in his life, and he did not have much love for his late father, or his even later brother; though his mother's side was not much better. Yes, he knew he was being unkind because, despite everything, Eamon was still the closest thing he had got to a father, even if they were not related through blood. And yes, neither Eamon's determined push for the throne nor Anora's more than obvious contempt for his abilities only served to make him feel even more uncomfortable than he already did.
It was more the responsibility he disliked; he could barely take care of himself, less a whole nation and... Just because he could trace his ancestry back to the first King of Ferelden didn't mean he wanted to.
Alistair would rather undergo the Joining again... On second thought, maybe not. Nothing could be this bad. But this whole ordeal came in as a close second.
Kallian could have done it. She would be a better queen than he could ever hope to achieve; she already was a better leader than he would ever be. Maker, she was a better person than most of those nobles who would always look down on her. Because Kallian was an elf.
He had never thought he would think about her like this one day. He loved her, and he needed her counsel and guidance and presence; that much he had learnt over the past year. She was as Fereldan as anyone could be, with smears of dirt across her face and Barkspawn at her heels. And still, despite having achieved more to keep their country safe than all of the teyrns and banns and arls combined, she would only be seen as an elf.
He hated himself that he began to think so, too. But with a nation on the brink of a civil war, on top of a Maker forsaken Blight if that was not already enough to deal with in the first place, Kallian would sunder the already divided factions only further; even he knew that. More needed to happen than an all-out war with creatures crawling right out of the Void for people to overcome so simple differences, or so it seemed.
If she was not allowed to be his queen, if she continued her Warden duties while he was stuck here, in the capital...
Huh. Here he was, a possible contender for the throne, because that was as far as he was willing to go, even in his thoughts; here he was, hiding in a corner, pouting like a child, acting like they had taken away his favourite toy and only holding his breath would get it back...
The last time he had acted like that had been when he had still been a child. It was immature, and unbecoming, for a Warden and a prince. And he did not care one bit. It was not like anyone saw him. Even if they did, they were already judging him, so why bother, really?
If he was king, he could pout all the time.
His thoughts came to a brief halt, as if surprised that they had wandered this far. It might be the only advantage this position had to offer, though, so he allowed himself to indulge this little fantasy.
He could pout, and be childish, and, oh! He could order every single piece of cheese that could be found in the country. That bit did coax a small smile on his face.
He could be the worst king in the history of Ferelden, and what could they do? If they wanted the bastard on the throne, just because of his father, oh, he could deliver! He was the last living descendant of King Calenhad and his line, and his chances to conceive his own heir were ridiculously slim; not with the taint coursing through his veins. He would be the last Theirin either way, so why not make it memorable?
He never would, though, Alistair thought with a sigh. Just because he was thrusted headlong into something he did not like, that should not mean for the common people to suffer from it.
And Kallian believed in him, or else she would not have supported his claim; that had to account for something, right? She was the last person he wanted to disappoint. Even though there would be a crown standing between them from now on, that would not keep him from caring for her.
There was still a battle he had to fight, however, before he would become king. Whether he liked it or not. Who knew, one of them would not make it. Maybe the Maker would take the decision out of his hands, just this once.
That reminded him of something... Did Kallian not want to see him because of this?
Title: Theirin Blood
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating/Warnings: G / none
Bonus: No
Word Count: 976
Summary: He was supposed to become king?
They could not make him. They could not make him do that. After all Alistair had done for Ferelden already, for his country if Eamon had his way, they were still asking for more. His objections did not matter anymore, of course; and why should they, now, when it had been decided with election and endorsement and everything. But that did not make it any more believable to him.
He would have laughed if the situation had not been that absurd. He was supposed to become king? The bastard son they had spirited away after his birth so no-one found out? The babe his father had all but forced onto Eamon, only for him to cast him out a couple of years later? The child who had grown up with the knowledge that he did not belong, never would, and that he did not have a future at court? Were they even listening to themselves?
Well, that was not it. Not really. Yes, this side of his family has caused all the hardships in his life, and he did not have much love for his late father, or his even later brother; though his mother's side was not much better. Yes, he knew he was being unkind because, despite everything, Eamon was still the closest thing he had got to a father, even if they were not related through blood. And yes, neither Eamon's determined push for the throne nor Anora's more than obvious contempt for his abilities only served to make him feel even more uncomfortable than he already did.
It was more the responsibility he disliked; he could barely take care of himself, less a whole nation and... Just because he could trace his ancestry back to the first King of Ferelden didn't mean he wanted to.
Alistair would rather undergo the Joining again... On second thought, maybe not. Nothing could be this bad. But this whole ordeal came in as a close second.
Kallian could have done it. She would be a better queen than he could ever hope to achieve; she already was a better leader than he would ever be. Maker, she was a better person than most of those nobles who would always look down on her. Because Kallian was an elf.
He had never thought he would think about her like this one day. He loved her, and he needed her counsel and guidance and presence; that much he had learnt over the past year. She was as Fereldan as anyone could be, with smears of dirt across her face and Barkspawn at her heels. And still, despite having achieved more to keep their country safe than all of the teyrns and banns and arls combined, she would only be seen as an elf.
He hated himself that he began to think so, too. But with a nation on the brink of a civil war, on top of a Maker forsaken Blight if that was not already enough to deal with in the first place, Kallian would sunder the already divided factions only further; even he knew that. More needed to happen than an all-out war with creatures crawling right out of the Void for people to overcome so simple differences, or so it seemed.
If she was not allowed to be his queen, if she continued her Warden duties while he was stuck here, in the capital...
Huh. Here he was, a possible contender for the throne, because that was as far as he was willing to go, even in his thoughts; here he was, hiding in a corner, pouting like a child, acting like they had taken away his favourite toy and only holding his breath would get it back...
The last time he had acted like that had been when he had still been a child. It was immature, and unbecoming, for a Warden and a prince. And he did not care one bit. It was not like anyone saw him. Even if they did, they were already judging him, so why bother, really?
If he was king, he could pout all the time.
His thoughts came to a brief halt, as if surprised that they had wandered this far. It might be the only advantage this position had to offer, though, so he allowed himself to indulge this little fantasy.
He could pout, and be childish, and, oh! He could order every single piece of cheese that could be found in the country. That bit did coax a small smile on his face.
He could be the worst king in the history of Ferelden, and what could they do? If they wanted the bastard on the throne, just because of his father, oh, he could deliver! He was the last living descendant of King Calenhad and his line, and his chances to conceive his own heir were ridiculously slim; not with the taint coursing through his veins. He would be the last Theirin either way, so why not make it memorable?
He never would, though, Alistair thought with a sigh. Just because he was thrusted headlong into something he did not like, that should not mean for the common people to suffer from it.
And Kallian believed in him, or else she would not have supported his claim; that had to account for something, right? She was the last person he wanted to disappoint. Even though there would be a crown standing between them from now on, that would not keep him from caring for her.
There was still a battle he had to fight, however, before he would become king. Whether he liked it or not. Who knew, one of them would not make it. Maybe the Maker would take the decision out of his hands, just this once.
That reminded him of something... Did Kallian not want to see him because of this?
no subject
no subject
Well, fandom seems to love him that way...
Which tells you more about the fandom than the game tbqh ;)no subject
no subject
That's it, that's the game.But seriously, I always felt horrible when I also pressured him to become king, even though I knew he'd come to grips with it and he'd turn out to be a great king in the end... It's like kicking a puppy :/