Chapter Text
Gather 'round and listen well to the story of The Lonely King of Ferelden, the great hero Alistair.
Our story begins, as most of its kind do, with betrayal, blood, and war. But you didn’t come here to hear about the Blight: the story is as well known throughout Thedas as the Chant of Light. The story that you’re interested in is that of our heroes King Alistair Theirin and his enduring love, the Hero of Ferelden Joanna Amell.
We begin at Ostagar, before our dearly departed King Cailan Theirin’s final stand against the darkspawn horde.
It has been said that, as soon as their eyes met, the ground shook and the skies parted to allow the sun to shine through the clouds, though this is likely utter nonsense. In any event, it is certain that Alistair was enraptured with our Hero Joanna as soon as he laid eyes on her. I could lie to you and tell you that Joanna’s beauty was unparalleled, or that she appeared as if little birdies helped her dress herself each morning, but I will not.
Joanna Amell was a beautiful woman, there was no denying that. Her face was heart-shaped and full, and her sharp jawline sloped towards a stunning, though slightly lopsided, smile. Her deep brown hair framed her face, falling into waves past her shoulders, thought she preferred to wear it up and out of the way lest it get in the way of her casting. A button nose sat underneath the true beauty her face commanded: a pair of large, emerald-green eyes that sparkled with magic and gumption. It is said that the eyes are the window to the soul and, as Alistair stared into them, lost in their depths, he felt her being reach out and touch his.
It is speculated that Joanna was taken by Alistair’s handsome face and stature, that his sarcastic humour was well met by her own, and that she saw through the pain and hidden suffering in his eyes to something more. Something that may have reached out and touched her, too.
Or so the story goes.
We know what comes next: Joanna is successful in her Joining and, thus, our Wardens were given a seemingly menial task of lighting the beacon to signal Teyrn Loghain’s forces to charge in, flanking the darkspawn and, hopefully, granting victory to the army at Ostagar.
But we know the story: the task was not menial, and the Wardens fought through throngs and throngs of darkspawn to finally light the beacon. In turn, Teyrn Loghain quit the field and left Cailan, the Wardens, and the rest of the army to die in agony.
The legend tells that Flemeth, the famed Witch of the Wilds, swooped down upon our heroes and plucked them from the top of the Tower of Ishal. I am not one to imbibe in such silly tales, but I must admit that I do not see any other plausible explanation as to how our Wardens survived the onslaught, so I have no choice but to continue the legend of Flemeth’s involvement.
Regardless, as we know, the Wardens used their treaties and rallied support from all corners of Ferelden. The dwarves under the aged King Harrowmont, the Dalish elves of the Brecilian Forest, and the mages of Kinloch Hold all pledged their support. Our Wardens even journeyed to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and found the Urn, taking but a pinch to cure beloved Arl Eamon of his sickness and free his abomination son from the grip of the desire demon that had claimed his soul.
But you know all this. You’ve heard the tales, sung by bards and minstrels, and told in taverns and courts alike.
Do you know, however, how the love grew between Alistair and fair Joanna? How it only grew stronger with each trial they faced and overcame? How it blossomed into something pure and rare and beautiful, like a rose growing on a dead bush?
Joanna became special to Alistair; so special, in fact, that he agreed to lay with her with the express intention to have her be the only woman he laid with for the rest of his life. It was that intention they shared and accepted as fact: that they would be spending the rest of their lives together, side by side, until one fell in battle or to The Calling. Their faith in their love was so strong they believed that nothing could break it.
Though we know now that to be untrue.