The Bastard Prince

Growing up Alistair Theirin knew what he was, he was a bastard, he was the illegitimate son of a great king. He was meant for a templar's life, protecting the Chantry and the people of Fereldon. That all changed quite suddenly when he became a grey warden, saving the world and eventually sitting on the throne himself. [indie multiverse friendly rp blog for Alistair Theirin from Bioware's Dragon Age games. Mun and muse are both 18+ nsfw and triggers will be tagged as such.] M!A: No blasted curses luckily.

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Dragon Age - The Future Paths of Alistair: Floral Edition

Originals are available at my Artfire Store:

Warden - King - Departed

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Clearing out the masterlist to start anew and make sure everything’s up-to-date. Please reblog this post if you’re an independent Dragon Age roleplay blog!

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nine enter the castle | follower starter

"Right, right, I understand yes," the king responds, Bann Teagan is going on about Alistair's duties for the day. His uncle is fond of repeating things over and over again in order to make his point clear since he remembers Alistair more the boy he once was instead of the man he is now. Things have changed considerably now that Alistair sits on the throne of Ferelden, even if the change took time.

"Uncle, I understand; I listen, I answer questions, I look handsome sitting up here, I get it. Now please, let in the first guest," with a laugh he waves a hand at the entrance hall, signalling a guard to open up the doors. He sits up straight, wanting to make a good impression. It took a little while for Teagan and Arl Eamon to teach him all of his duties, even longer for them to break him of his habits but he's getting better as each day goes by. Occasionally he'll slip back into his slobbish bastard ways but he is accepting his role slowly but surely.

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a secret meeting | open

♕——The shuffle of feet and harsh whispers surround the blond as he walks carefully forward. A burlap sack is secure over his head and his wrists are bound behind him. He is dressed minimally, having been stripped of his plate mail and weapons for whatever encounter this was going to be. They haven't gone very far, though the air is colder now, a chill making it's way down Alistair's spine. Visibly shuddering he laces his fingers behind his back, clearing his throat before he shouts still covered by the sack,

"Is there a reason I've been led here in such a welcoming manner?" There are a number of people Alistair expects to see--or not see as the case may be--but he is still curious as to who he'll specifically be dealing with.His question is soon remedied as it's ripped off of his head and Alistair huffs at the treatment, a slight snip in his voice, "Well that wasn't very nice. You could've at least warned me."