WARNING: This is a Darkfic. This story contains imprisonment, torture/violence, rape/non-con, despair, and psychological abuse. If you have a problem reading about any of these subjects and/or if these are triggering for you, for your own sake, please do not read ahead.

Summary: One false step, and the Landsmeet was lost. Execution would have been a kindness, compared to what Anora has planned for Alistair.

Notes: Most of this story was written as catharsis for me whenever I was having a bad day/week/whatever over the past couple years. And it shows. Though I've dealt with dark subject matter before, this is far beyond what you'd find in my usual work. When I found a kmeme prompt asking for a really dark Alistair fic, this fit so well, I decided to post it. Also, please know that I am not hating on any character in particular, despite what happens in this story. I just find it fascinating to write and read about what beloved characters do in times of suffering.

I am writing two versions of this - one Dark (at the prompt OP's request), one Light (my original intent for the story). This is the Light Version. If you're looking for the Dark Version, it can be found here: s/8804623/1/The-Value-of-Royal-Blood-Dark-Version. If you've already read the Dark Version, you can skip ahead to Chapter 12 of this story; Chapters 1-11 are identical.

"The Value of Royal Blood"

o.O.o

The last time he saw her – the last time he might ever see her – her face was frozen in an expression of terror and panic. The Dalish elf was small, but impossibly strong, and it took several burly guards to hold her back. His strong, beautiful elf, with her chestnut hair that glimmered with gold in the sunlight. His serious, wise elf with the silly name. Tangerine.

There was no one else to blame for their failure but himself. He was the one who insisted on fighting in the duel against Loghain. He was the one who let his anger blind him during the battle. And, finally, he was the one who tripped on a fold in the carpet, ensuring his defeat. Tangi had thrown herself before him, catching the final blow with her shoulder. The blow meant to take off his head. Thank the Maker she was wearing platemail, or she might have lost her arm.

In the end, it was all for nothing. Anora resumed her role as queen and ordered for his execution. Tangi shrieked, her good arm flying to her greatsword, even though she had little hope of hefting it one-handed. Guards swarmed them, disarming them and their companions. And then, that look. The look on Tangi's face that would haunt him for the rest of his days. However many days that would be.

"No!" she cried out, lashing out at the guards surrounding her, blood still trickling from her shoulder down her arm. "You can't do this! Alistair!"

"I love you!" he called out to her as the guards pulled him away. "Don't ever forget that!"

Tears streamed down her face as she nodded. It occurred to him that he had never seen her cry before. The sight was strange, yet beautiful.

Just outside the hall of the Landsmeet, a gauntleted fist connected with the back of his head, plunging him into darkness.