#alistairweek2025

[mehyann]

Alistair Week 2025 | A Compilation

THE EVENT

DAY 1: FIRSTS

DAY 2: WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

DAY 3: REUNION

DAY 4: FREE DAY

DAY 5: CHILDHOOD

DAY 6: SACRIFICE

DAY 7: VICTORY

[alistairweek]

Alistair Week 2025 has come to a close!

[🎨 @mehyann] A huge thank you to everyone who submitted their creations and to everyone who helped cheer them on. It's been an amazing week thanks to each and every one of you 💕 Don't panic if you didn't manage to finish your work in time, we still want to share it! We'll be checking the tags here and there so you won't get missed. We'll see you again next year for more Alistair love!

[thalion71]

unto light

He fell into Lake Calenhad once, from a little boat they had no business taking so far from shore- much less in storm. The water was cold and dark like this, turbulent and furious and sure to drag him down. A young Chantry sister had pulled him out then, but there’s no hope of such a thing now.

so. continuing the descent into dragon age, i stumbled into the middle of @alistairweek like. three days ago or so, looked at the remaining days' themes, and went 'hey! i have two-thirds of a scene in my head that could fit that :)'. and then, because i enjoy hubris and tempting fate, i tried to type Real fast

more or less for day 7, victory

[ai-no-kokuhaku]

[[victory]]

the moment i saw the prompts i wanted to do a matching pair of illustrations :)

[lunian]

"And yet you don't like an idea to send him in Nevarran or Tevinter Circle. Maybe he doesn't have much potential to cause fire storms and a sight of blood makes him faint, but such strong connections to the Fade isn't my speciality, dear" "And separate him from his dogs? Some demon hauntings isn't as scary!"

Alistair Week - Childhood

Some little echoes of your past or when your son resembles your wife in some odd ways.

[mehyann]

Alistair Week 2025 | DAY 7: VICTORY

“In War, Victory.”

Dedicating my last entry just to appreciate this absolute unit of a man himself 💕

[loustica-lucia]

Alistair Week Day 7 — Victory

Day 1 ✦ Day 2 ✦ Day 3 ✦ Day 4 ✦ Day 5 ✦ Day 6 ✦ Day 7

For @alistairweek💖

Dealing the last blow against Urthemiel, ending the Fifth Blight, witnessing a brand new dawn upon Denerim💖

This entire week has been doodled on paper with pencils first, then edited digitally and rendered using Clip Studio Paint🎨

[carako]

Alistair Week Day 7: Victory

The Archdemon is dead, the Blight has ended

Rating: T

Ao3 link

***

Vision came back to him in waves. Blinking the world back into focus, Alistair took stock: his head hurt, his ears were ringing, he felt like he'd been tossed about by an ogre. And there were still lingering spots in his vision from…

The explosion!

Ignoring his screaming muscles, he hauled himself to his feet.

Lyna had struck the final blow.

He remembered the light, the explosion, the sense of weightlessness as the shockwave hit him like a blow and sent him tumbling ass over teakettle into rubble.

Body protesting each movement, he staggered over to where the Archdemon lay motionless. It was the best place to start to find her. Turning in a slow circle, he stopped when he caught a shape slumped against a low wall a few feet away.

There she was. Was she…? She wasn't moving. He couldn't see if she was breathing as he moved closer.

Maker, please, not now. Not after everything.

Collapsing at her side, Alistair reached shaking hands out to touch her cheek.

"Lyna?"

No response. Shit.

He tried speaking louder. Ripping his gloves off, his fingers returned to the smooth skin of her cheek, pressing just a hair harder this time. Tears were streaming down his face, cutting a path through the grime coating him from the battle.

When had those started?

She wasn't supposed to die; they had made sure of it. He had made sure of it.

Then a deep, shuddering breath wracked Lyna's frame beneath him, and his relief was palpable as it washed over him. Gingerly, he ran his fingers down her cheek, her eyes fluttering open in reply. They were unfocused as she looked at him.

"You look like shit," she said, a weak laugh quickly morphing into a bone-deep cough.

"Wow, ouch. You wound me, dear lady. Besides, you're not looking much better yourself," he replied, thumbing away a trickle of blood that was tracking down her forehead towards her eye from a cut on her forehead.

She didn't reply. Just stared at him as her eyes slowly focused.

"Alright, that was a lie. You're still just as beautiful, all blown to hell and covered in Darkspawn guts and Archdemon bits," he rambled, unable to stop it. When had he ever?

"It's dead then?" she asked, trying to look around, but seizing and hissing in pain before she could sit up.

"Hey, hey, don't move. Just rest," he said, petting her hair. "You did it. The Archdemon is dead. And you lived."

"I did. I guess maybe we need to thank Morrigan."

"I'd rather we didn't if it's all the same," he grumbled. But she was right. If it hadn't been for Morrigan, for that night… He shuddered at the memory. But looking into Lyna's eyes, feeling her warmth under his hands, he couldn't help but feel thankful.

They had survived. After all this, they had both survived. He almost didn't believe it; his luck never went this way.

He had thought he'd be alone again.

Distantly, he could hear others yelling over the faint ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart.

"Lyna! Alistair!" Leliana's voice cut across the roof. "Are you okay?"

She was at their side a moment later, an elfroot potion in hand. Quickly, she bit out the stopper and tipped it back into Lyna's mouth. Wynne reached them after it had started to take effect as Lyna was trying to struggle to a seat. He grabbed her instead, stilling her motions as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Lay back, child. Let me take a look at you," Wynne said, a hand at her brow.

Leliana crouched next to Alistair, her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking at the body of the Archdemon curled behind them.

He nodded as he looked down at his love, safe and cradled in his arms, while Wynne fussed over her, the gentle glow of healing magic diffusing through the air. Their friends were around them, the others hopefully safe down below, keeping the Darkspawn at bay.

Darkspawn whose ranks would hopefully be shattered with the Archdemon dead.

Those who had helped, who had joined their cause and fought their way up to the roof alongside him and his companions, were milling about. No doubt taking stock of their losses. But a growing cheer was rising up, the sound of victory spreading through the assembled ranks.

"There, child, you should be feeling better now. But don't try to move too much just yet," Wynne said, turning her focus to Alistair. "Now for you."

He sat still as the gentle thrum of healing magic flowed through him, helping soothe the cuts and bruises he'd acquired. His focus drifted from the feel of the magic to the feel of Lyna, warm and safe in his arms. He could feel her chest expand and contract with each breath, her heartbeat strong under his hands.

She was alive.

So, so alive.

For the first time since Riordan had told them about the price Wardens had to pay to end the Blight, he felt the cold grip of dread around his heart loosen. Cautiously, tentatively, hope had started to seep in to take its place.

They had won. They had killed the Archdemon; they had ended the Blight. The last year of effort hadn't been for nothing. Everybody had come together, had joined forces to make sure Thedas was safe, that Ferelden wouldn't fall.

He wished Duncan could see them now.

"What's on your mind?" Lyna asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts.

Blinking, he realized Wynne had finished her work and had left, tending to other injured on the battlefield. Lyna waited, watching him as he tried to collect himself.

"I was just wondering… if Duncan would be proud."

Her eyes softened, lips twisting in an understanding smile. Wincing slightly as she lifted her hand, she cupped his cheek. Leaning into her touch, he smiled back at her.

"He'd be so proud of us. Of you. I'm sure of it." Her hand shifted to pull his head down to hers, placing a brief kiss on his forehead. "I'm proud of you, too, Alistair. We did it."

"We did, didn't we?"

He held her close and kissed her fiercely, the taste of victory sweet on his tongue.