#Did the guy he hire wipe more than what was necessary and the king went eh I'll roll with it and just made one son a high ranking official | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

authorellenmint · 6 years

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Hurt & Angst with Ali

Taken from The Truth, King Alistair and his wily elven mistress, the Warden, talk about the trials of the two of them suffering under the taint.

For day 3 of @alistairappreciationweek

Alistair burrowed his face into the small of my back. Maker only knew why he loved doing it; his arm hooking around my stomach as his stubble tickled with words spoken against me. I couldn't make out what he said and asked for clarification.

"Do you have to leave so soon?"

"It won't be for a couple more days," I said, running my fingers along his hand clutching tight.

"But you only just arrived," he complained, that patch of face fur around his chin itching my naked skin.

"Three months ago," I countered. With a heavy sigh, he wormed his way higher up the bed until his breath danced across the nape of my neck.

"And now you're off again, for Maker knows how long, to stop the world and save bad guys."

"Yes, that is my exact itinerary. Day one, stop world. Day two, save bad guys. Day three, crown nug king. Day four, mass orgy."

His touch caressed down my bare arms, then rising up to circle the shoulders - always hesitant to drop down to my breasts. Even after all this time he was still shocked a naked woman dared to share his bed. "Court won't be the same without you," Alistair whispered near my ear.

"You'll manage, you always do."

Normally that would be the end of it, but his hand clung tighter, pulling me to him. "Why do you have to go?"

"You know why."

"No, all I got was duty, and honor, and other motto words that amount to a massive headache."

"Eamon's been on you about it more than I have. If Gaspard becomes Emperor of Orlais, it's right back to the war. A war that could last another decade or more."

"So?" Maker that man could play obtuse when he wanted. It worked surprisingly well in his favor with diplomats, most screaming to any demands just to get him to stop being such an idiot. Right now I wanted to bludgeon him with the only weapon handy, which was sadly a pillow.

"The bannorn will not be happy until you produce or name an heir," I stated the obvious. He knew it, had known it since the moment he accepted that damn crown, but somehow it kept getting pushed back to a later problem. We've still got darkspawn, I'll solve that heir issue later. Oh wait, there's Orlais mucking about in politics again, no time to pick that heir. And what's this? A mage rebellion?! Nope, heir stuff has to wait. But it couldn't any longer. Everyone was more than aware of the clock ticking above their king's head even if few were told the full truth of the calling.

But Alistair shoved it all aside, his lips brushing down my back. Despite the obvious attempt to distract me yet again, I couldn't help but sigh at the touch I spent more of my life craving than getting. "So," he said, punctuating each word with a kiss, "let's get married."

"Just like that. The King of Ferelden and an elven mage."

"Hero of Ferelden sounds better on the stationery. I know I could never get better. And there's some other stuff add after, right? Didn't the dwarves name you a thing or what not? Scrubber of the stone?"

We used to joke about it when Derenim was still a smoking husk from the darkspawn. Oh, what if we ran to the chantry and ordered them to wed us before the nobility sobered up. Who could say no while a massive archdemon's corpse rotted at the top of the tower? Let the bannorn raise hell, we've got love on our side. Surely that will shield us from an entire country lusting after the contested throne.

Alistair ran his fingers across my hip, drumming them down my thigh, "I know a place that sells cheap trebuchets. A few mercs, hire some pirates out of Rivain and the bannorn won't know what hit 'em."

"Don't." I didn't mean to plead but the word thudded from my lips. His exploring fingers froze and yanked away. Cold seeped into my skin from the loss of his touch. I flipped around quickly and stared into that doleful face. "I didn't mean," I started. This was why we joked about it. It was easier. "If I can find a cure for the taint, stop the calling, then maybe we'll have some breathing room. Keep the gentry happy."

He shifted his mile long stare upon me and I shuddered. "This need of yours to solve the calling, it..." Sighing deeply, he continued, "it wouldn't have anything to do with your losing a baby?"

I reared back, "How do you know about that?"

"Teagan was concerned, pale as a sheet when he confessed it, and thought I should be told. Unlike you." Of course, out of all the times for the Arl to walk in on me covered in blood, it had to be when there wasn't a bandit in sight I could blame it upon. It was more than a bit awkward to beg for silence while still admitting whose it had been. Not that I didn't feel the occasional noble watching the size of my waistline closer than they should. Everyone knew who shared the king's bed but weren't about to call the woman that killed an archdemon on it. At least not to her face.

"Alistair, I...I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me? Are you all right?"

I nodded softly, "I'm fine. It wasn't that much blood, and," I flared my fist, casting a soft blue flame, "I haven't forgotten how to magic shit. It's fine."

"You already said that."

Placing my hand against his cheek, I drunk in his wounded eyes. He didn't turn away. "I didn't tell you about them because I didn't want you to worry."

"Them? How many have there been?"

Shit! Even I fell for the idiot ploy sometimes. "Four, though none were as far along as this past one. A month or two and then heavy bleeding. Which, given my profession it's a wonder I noticed at all." The joke went over about as well as I'd expected. The man I loved looked like I'd stomped on his face, ripped out his heart, and kicked his kitten for good measure. If it weren't for my connection with spirits, it's doubtful I'd have noticed the loss as little more than some extra bleeding.

"What about this last one?" he asked. His hand drifted towards my broken womb, but he paused, terrified of hurting me.

"Three months, maybe more. Calendar can get a bit muddled in the deep road. I don't know why it lasted longer. Maybe too much elfroot in my diet. I..." a sob broke my sentence. Alistair wrapped his arms around me, pulling my head to his chest. Even angry at my deceit he still needed to comfort me, to try and soothe a loss I barely understood myself. A child from an elf mage wouldn't solve the problems of the crown, it would just exacerbate them. There's already one bastard on the throne, another could jeopardize everything. And if it had magic...

A kiss landed upon my head as he rubbed up and down my arms. I burrowed deeper into him, willing away an ache that could never be salved. I didn't tell him because how could I? So, funny story, I got knocked up a few times and lost the baby before it got bigger than pea. Cramped like crazy and made a mess, but otherwise I'm good. Yeah, it's probably that taint stuff. Sucks we're both Grey Wardens, eh?

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled into my hair.

And that was the other reason. I knew, despite the fact I was the one regularly running headlong into brood mother lairs and charging dragons, he'd blame himself. If he didn't know then he couldn't feel the pain. It seemed a kinder cut.

I pulled back from his chest to find tears streaking down his pale skin. When did I start crying? Wiping the evidence away with my thumb, I planted a kiss upon his slack lips. Just give me something normal for a moment. Please? Alistair sensed my need and returned the kiss, his fingers combing my hair.

"If I'd known, I could have done - you know - things to help. I do have some control. Generally."

I couldn't stop the laugh at his earnestness, "I can control it as well. Better than you thanks to magic. But I didn't think it necessary. I assumed Grey Wardens couldn't even conceive. Oops."

"Maker," he pulled me back into a hug. "Is this why you want to cure the calling?"

"No. Even if I could reverse it, I doubt it would repair ten years worth of damage to all the baby making bits." I'd thought often about the implications, the high cost the Wardens required, but it was the first time I ever said it aloud. Growing up in the circle, children were an accident. A dangerous one at that. Whatever you gave birth to was whisked off to the chantry, never to be seen again. I'd never put much thought into having a child, much less one with an entire nation breathing down its neck.

The man I couldn't stop loving sighed, his arms slacking in their grip. "I don't understand. Massive surprise, I know."

"If I can give us time, more than another ten or twenty years, maybe... There has to be an answer out there. Something to save Grey Wardens from this curse. And it's not as if I haven't delved deep into long forgotten ruins before."

"And each time I nearly had a heart attack until you came home safe," he countered, kissing my forehead. "I don't want to lose you to a fool's errand."

"Oh, I see how it is. You can risk your own life, the damn country even, to run off to Antiva and then Seheron chasing a ghost, but not me researching the blight."

"That was completely different."

"How?"

"In a different way that was in no way like what you want to do," he stuttered around his flimsy argument. I could have killed Zevran for sending him that damn note. Why didn't he contact me, give me a chance to use my contacts? Alistair insisted he had to go it alone, not even letting Eamon send a few bodyguards to protect the out-of-practice king. I was too busy with other matters, and he insisted it would be a minor stop over to crash a Crow prison.

At least he took the time to send a few letters back to me, each one sounding more and more hopeful that he'd find Maric alive. That he could pass this burden off to his father, the true king of Ferelden. With each one, I felt a knot widening in my stomach -- he was risking his own neck not just to change his destiny, to secure his country, but to be with me. When he came back dejected, once again failing to cling to that family thread he craved, I broke inside too.

Eamon ripped him to shreds after that, for endangering the throne, the country, and possibly dragging Ferelden into a war it couldn't hope to win with Tevinter. It also started the clock.

I pushed back the blonde hairs sticking to his forehead, curling each one back the way he liked. "I promise I'll come back."

"You always say that."

"And I always do," I smiled, lightly kissing his slack lips.

But he didn't brighten, "What about the day you don't?" He sat up in bed away from me, his eyes drifting downwards to the old blanket from our campsite. The thing was threadbare to the point of being see through, but he insisted upon sleeping below it. If any servant tried to replace it with a new, they saw true anger in their king.

Picking at the edges, Alistair said, "I know, okay. I'm not stupid. Eamon's been parading the least terrifying of 'available' noble women under my nose for months. Did you know one of them dressed like a mabari? Wore an actual collar and got all painted up like she as about to run into battle. Even barked through the finger food course. I hid in the cellar to get away."

Running my fingers across his thigh, I could only sigh, "Alistair."

"Yeah, yeah, Sire means you need to sire. I got that bit from the big book of kinging. But I don't want to, okay. Shit, it probably wouldn't work anymore anyway."

A morbid thought twisted my tongue, "It's a shame you aren't more like your father?"

"Taking advantage of some poor scullery maid?" he snorted at his own creation.

I shrugged, "It did save Ferelden in the end."

"Yeah, they got stuck with me. Whoopee," he sighed, crumbling in on himself.

Rising up to a sit, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling my head to his shoulder, "It could have been a lot worse."

"Oh?"

"We could have put the dog in charge."

"Ha!" Alistair laughed, then paused and stroked his chin, "Actually, get a blonde wig, a set of armor to fit, and it might fool some of the banns."

I snorted at the idea of the king of Ferelden being a literal dog. The Orlesians would adore it, patting its head and guffawing at the little tail wagging through the gap in the throne. Alistair revived from my smile, his own ornery one appearing as he described how the reign of King Barkspawn the First would go. Snuggling deeper into him, I let his tale wash over uninterrupted. He paused during the great ascension of Andrascat to bring about eternal peace and table scraps and drew my face to his. After a deep kiss, he ran a finger down my cheek and said, "Now you don't have a reason to leave."

And in that moment I didn't wish to. Why was it always my job to ensure the continuation of a country that tolerated my kind? Leave it up to someone else. Just let me be with the man I love and the rest can fall into the ocean. I pulled him tighter into a hug when the door to his room swung open.

"Sire, I hope you're awake because --" One of Eamon's toadies stumbled at the pair of us wrapped around each other; or possibly the sight of his king's naked ass.

Alistair twisted around to face him and raised a shoulder at the man, "Well..."

"I, uh, was sent to fetch you for a meeting with lady..."

Alistair waved him away, the lady's name falling into the void. "Wonderful, great, I'll be sure to rush right down to her." He turned back to me, running his fingers through my hair, in no mood to obey the order. But the toady didn't move, only shifted uncomfortably on his heels. "What is it?" Alistair snapped.

"He said right away..." then the eyes glanced over me, the unwelcoming sneer snapping into place, "and alone."

Alistair sighed with the dramatics of a bard, throwing his hands up to the sky as if the Maker cursed him. Then he ran his hands down his naked chest, "Do you think I should go like this? Might as well get it all out in the open, eh? Here ya go ladies, here's what you're competing for. Is it worth it?"

The toady glanced down the hall, praying for intervention, but no one appeared, "I can leave you to get dressed, but you should do so quickly." He stepped back, dragging the door with him. Before shutting it, he threw out, "Please put pants on."

Alistair feigned hurt at the parting comment, glancing downward at himself, "It's not that bad, is it?"

I pressed against his back, my hands running the gambit of his aging but still toned body down to that prick that was suddenly the most important thing in Thedas to the nobility. He shuddered at my touch, throwing his head back and nearly colliding with my mouth. "You're going, aren't you?" he asked me even as I got him going.

Nodding against his shoulder, I said, "I need to."

He sighed, "There are some books in the library, old diaries or something from Maric's time with the Wardens." I paused in my evil machinations to lean forward and beam a question into his eyes. "I thought every little bit might help. Anything to get you back here faster. I hear they're thinking about upgrading the kitchen with a cheese fountain."

"Thank you," I said, ignoring the cheese fountain. He picked up my wandering hand and brought it to his mouth. Sliding back, I released my unholy hold on him so he could follow his orders; but Alistair flipped around, pinning me back to the bed. He kissed me deeply, sliding in between my legs. Gasping in surprise, I wiggled deeper into him, "What are you doing? You don't have time for this."

That smile that won me over the first time we met danced across his face. "I believe someone once told me, 'No one tells a king what to do.'"

#alistair appreciation week #day 3 #miscarriage #alistair #grey warden #it's gonna hurt #the taint

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backtothestart02 · 6 years

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To Trust is Not to Falter - 1/1 | frary fanfiction

A/N: My first frary/reign fanfiction to fix the angsty mess that was the end of 2x05 (since I was hurting when I recently watched it). Enjoy! (if you decide to read it, lol)

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing and @hamaheaven for reading it over and making sure it was in character and realistic. You guys are the greatest!

Synopsis: 2x05 - alternate ending - Francis confesses to Mary that Narcisse is blackmailing him.

“There is something else going on.”

A frustrated sigh slipped out of him as he turned back to the fireplace, staring down into the flames with an intensity that did nothing to calm the storm inside of him; the need for her to just stop talking. What he wouldn’t give to just miniaturize himself enough to go down into that fiery pit, to cease to exist because then he wouldn’t have to make awful choices that went against everything he believed in. Everything Mary believed in.

He wouldn’t feel weighed down every moment of every day for the foreseeable future, not knowing if that day would be his last if Narcisse grew tired of blackmailing him and decided to take pleasure in a riot and execution instead, Mary’s head on a pike beside him as he’d foretold.

Worst possibly than all of that is that playing the puppet to Narcisse’s strings, Francis would become a mirror image of his father, tearing the country apart in violence based off on the whims of a Catholic noble who thought he knew best.

“Lately you’ve been…distant…”

And then there was that.

“…acting as though you’re haunted by something…”

He turned back around.

She knew him. She knew him so well. Everything inside of him screamed to just tell her. Who could he trust more than Mary with his deepest, darkest secrets, with the worst side of himself? No one. Bash, maybe, but he didn’t want to endanger either of their lives by forcing them to carry the burden that weighed him down every day. He already felt guilty for killing his own father, despite his conviction that it was absolutely necessary. Narcisse’s blackmail intensified his emotions in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“I need peace…and quiet…” he muttered under his breath, walking past her.

But she would not be silenced.

“You need to trust me, to share things with me.”

He trusted her with his life. But with this? How could he share this with her knowing her life might be the cost of the knowledge he bestowed upon her?

“Not everything can be solved by talking, by love, by you. There are things we cannot change, that cannot be undone; things that I don’t tell you to protect you.”

Her voice rose as she tossed the item in her hand to the side in her frustration.

“Protect me from what?”

She was relentless.

“Your death!”

The words silenced her. All he could see was that intense, confused, shocked look in her eyes, and all he could hear was her heavy breathing filling the space between them. His fingers tingled. Her skin warming and then cooling as he stared right back at her until she gathered enough thought to speak again.

It was all about to come undone.

“What are you talking about?” she asked carefully.

“Mary, please,” he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

“Francis.”

She came to him and clutched his arms.

“Don’t make me say any more, please.”

“You have to tell me, Francis.” He shook his head, unable to form words. “You have to tell me, or the distance will grow between us, the country will fall apart. Your decision tonight cannot be undone but future poor decisions can be prevented.”

“I can’t,” his voice broke. “I can’t lose you.”

“Who has threatened me?” she demanded.

Her voice alternating between soft and imploring, between the whispers of his wife and the firm demands of his queen, told him he was going to tell her. He couldn’t think of another thing to tell her to throw her off course.

“Narcisse.”

Her eyes widened, and she released him.

“This is further punishment then? For what I did to his son?”

“He is not just trying to punish you or me. He is trying to rule France with me as his puppet.” He pushed his hair out of his face, frustrated and desperate and scared.

“How can he do this? We can imprison him just for the threat alone.”

Francis’ shallow breathing finally led way to the devastating truth.

“He is blackmailing me.”

“With what?”

Mary was nearly delirious with her impatience, but it was impossible for him to speed up what he needed to say. It was so hard. He felt like he was ordering her death sentence with every breath he took.

“With the truth of my father’s death.”

Mary paused, her brows furrowed in confusion. She folded her arms against herself. Francis couldn’t look at her.

“But Montgomery killed Henry.”

Francis squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears from flowing and turned away from her. He clutched their bedpost and slowly sat down on the bed.

“No, he didn’t.”

Mary made her way to him and stood in front of him, waiting.

“What do you mean?” she asked gently, and he wanted to fall into her, let her hold him, just live in that moment for eternity so he wouldn’t have to face the world again.

Instead, tears streaming down his face, he looked up at her.

“I killed him.”

Her eyes widened.

“Francis.”

He swallowed hard.

“He had gone mad.” He shook his head, remembering his anger and grief when he’d shouted his explanation at the play-acting nanny Narcisse had hired to torment him. “He was going to kill me, so he could marry you, and then kill you, so he could rule France and England and Scotland – all of it!” He took a slow deep breath and looked at her. “I couldn’t let him do it, Mary. It was the only way, I couldn’t…”

She came and sat down next to him on the bed, shock reverberating through her.

“So, after Catherine and I…”

“Yes.”

She took a slow, deep breath.

“And how does Narcisse come to know of this? Did anyone see you?”

“He has Montgomery.”

“But there is no evidence it was you.”

With an effort of will, he pushed himself off the bed, crossed the room to grab the bloody piece of wood delivered to him earlier, and held it out to her.

“Is this…?” She held her hand out hesitantly, and he gave it to her.

“Yes.”

“Oh, my God.” She turned to him when he sat back down beside her. “But still, there’s no way for this to prove you’re the killer. Even Montgomery’s words are nothing against the King’s. How did Narcisse know for sure?”

“The nanny.”

She straightened. “What about her?”

He sighed, tucking some of the wild locks behind his ear.

“He paid her to pretend to be my father.” Her disbelieving look pushed him to continue. “To pretend to be possessed by him, but only when I was alone with her.” Reluctantly he met her gaze again. “I didn’t believe it at first, but…she knew details about my father that a commonplace nanny in the castle would not know. And with all this talk after the plague of seeing ghosts and black riders and a reckoning…I started to believe anything was possible, even my father’s ghost coming back to haunt me for killing him.”

“Oh, Francis.”

She placed her hand on his cheek. He let himself lean into it, feel the cool softness of it, believe in that single moment that everything was okay again.

“Finally, it got to be too much…I was so convinced that when she made the accusation…I admitted to it, and conveniently – conveniently…” He lifted his head to look away, disgusted, infuriated by how he’d been manipulated and deceived. “Narcisse was in the room when it happened. I should have killed him on the spot, but I…” His shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to be like my father.” He fisted his hand resting on his knee.

Mary covered her hand over his, willing him to relax with her there beside him.

All emotion left his voice.

“I ordered the guards to take the nanny to the infirmary and make sure she didn’t leave, but Narcisse went there later and had her released. Now he has Montgomery and the nanny to use against me. Even if we insist it is a baseless rumor…people may still believe it. I’m sure many would. The truth means nothing when people would rather believe the lie.”

Mary sighed and pulled him toward her, resting his head against her neck and taking his weight when he leaned into her.

“I’m so sorry, Mary…so sorry. I didn’t tell you because if it ever came to light, I wanted you to be able to say honestly that you didn’t know. Then only I would be executed because you would have no part in it.”

She closed her eyes at the words, at his reckless selflessness and need to keep her safe.

“Shh…it’s okay,” she soothed, rubbing her hands down his arms, over his curls, his cheeks, holding him to her.

After a long while, he lifted his head to look into her eyes, tears still streaming down damp cheeks.

“I’ve sentenced you to death.”

“No.” She cupped his face, holding it in place, forcing him to look her in the eyes and not look away. “You’ve been honest with me. If Catherine and I had killed Henry, you would have known because you found out.” She attempted a smile, but it didn’t last. “We would be in the same predicament now if that had been the cause of his death.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m glad you told me, Francis. We will fight this together. We will beat Narcisse.”

“But how?” His voice faded in the last breath of his question.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, a tremulous smile back on her lips. “But whatever the future brings, what’s most important is that we face it together. You said that, remember?”

He nodded slowly.

“No matter what comes up against us, I will fight at your side. I will not leave you. You just have to let me.”

“I love you, Mary,” he said, watching her as she wiped his tears away.

“I love you, too, Francis,” she returned. “I always will.” She took a breath. “We may not have a solution now, but we will find one.” She stroked his face, gently brushing her fingertips over his golden locks.

"I understand now why you acted the way you did today, but if he corners you again, we will fight it. And if we must cave to his wishes until we can find a way to undermine it, then we shall do so together. We may falter as King and Queen in the beginning of our reign, but as long as we stay united as husband and wife, nothing will stand in our way.” She leaned forward and smiled genuinely. “We will be unstoppable.”

He nodded, the hint of acceptance of hope in the brief squint of his eyes when he tried his best to smile at her.

“Thank you, Mary.”

She softened, a smile on her lips as she closed the last bit of distance between them with a gentle kiss. A distraction – and a much needed one at that – Mary deepened the kiss, pushing him back onto the bed and encouraging him to touch her.

There would be no more talk tonight.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#frary #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #francis x mary #reign

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