Finally, We Made It

This - This is King Alistair Theirin and his Queen, Fyrelynne Cousland Theirin. Just after their coronation. 

But before you read more - this is a commission that I requested from the incredible, beautiful and wonderful

She is such an inspiration, and she's actually the reason that I joined dA. I was Googling some Dragon Age artwork four years ago, and a picture from Smile came up. I followed the link which lead me here. And here I stayed. It's thanks to her that I've met all of you wonderful people. Thanks to her, I found my own place here and got the courage to get some writing out there. And I still love dA, and am so glad I came back. Now, four years later, I got the chance to thank her for what she inspired in me. Unfortunately for her, she now has to put up with me :-P But yes, all credit for this work goes to her and her amazing talents. She's even being patient enough to wait until I can gather up some more cash for her to colour this picture. 

But if you don't know her name, or her work, then you get right over to her now OK? Because she is not only amazingly talented, she's also a lovely person. Enough gushing from me now

Now, a bit about the picture. That's if you want to read on of course ^_^


How had she got here? The past year seems like a blur to her. Now here she stood, in front of a thousand people, wearing a crown that sat ever so delicately on her head. A change from the heavy helmets she was used to. It would have been terrifying if not for the strong, calloused hand entwined with her own. 

She turned her head, and the idiot was still smiling, but Fyre couldn't have imagined him any other way. The crown on his head glinted gold, and it made his strong features just that little bit more regal. The crown that looked so ridiculous when it was sat on the plush cushion fit him as if he was always meant to wear it. She couldn't say she felt the same about her own, but the look he gave her took away any doubts. 

Later, hours into the celebrations, Fyre stepped onto the grand balcony that lead from the Palace's ball room. Denerim spread before her, almost as if it were awaiting her embrace. And she would embrace the city, it's people. She would embrace Ferelden, because Alistair couldn't do it alone, and nor could she find it within herself to leave him. 

"Regretting it already?"

Fyre smiled and glanced over her shoulder. Alistair stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. His cheeks were flushed from the ale, and the crown had been put down somewhere or another. He still wore that grin. 

"Never," she replied, turning and holding out her hands. 

Alistair was quick to take them, rubbing his thumb over the gold ring that now took permanent residence on her left hand. He pulled her close, putting one hand on the curve of her back. Fyre put her hand on his shoulder, searching his eyes for any doubt that he'd made a mistake, taking her as his wife. She had done so much, he'd seen her in every kind of light. And yet he looked as though none of that mattered. 

"What's wrong, Fyre?"

The Hero of Ferelden blew a soft breath from her painted lips. "I can't help but wonder how long this happiness will last. We haven't exactly had much luck over this year, have we?"

Alistair chuckled, reaching up to brush a strand of her luminous red hair from her face. That touch settled deep in her bones, and Fyre reached up to gently cup his strong jaw. 

"I don't know about you, but over the past year I met this woman. She was strong and fierce, funny and intelligent. She makes me feel like I'm riding the clouds, and yet keeps me firmly rooted into the ground. This woman must have been crazy, though, because she's just taken a vow that keeps her by my side forever. I think that's some pretty good luck, don't you?"

Fyre let out a small laugh, glancing down as her eyes prickled with tears. She had had everything crash down on her, and somehow, Alistair had picked her up, dusted her off, and loved every inch of her. More than she deserved, but everything she would not give up. 

"I love you," she whispered, cupping the other side of his face and pulling him down. Their lips met, like they had a thousand times before, but this time, the kiss was sealing their bond forever. 

"And I love you, Fyrelynne Theirin. Now. Can we please go upstairs? I want to make a decent woman out of you."

Fyre gave his chest a quick slap, and the King laughed openly. Perhaps this happiness wouldn't last. Perhaps life would take her away, or him. Perhaps this would be the only moment they would have. But for Fyre, this one moment, this one perfect moment, would be inked onto her heart until it stopped beating.