"What happens if you become king?" Amell whispers into the darkness.
She feels Alistair tense above her. "Um," he says, with some hesitation. "Is this really the best time to discuss this?"
Amell wriggles a little, feeling him inside of her. "Would you still love me?"
"I would have to die before I stopped loving you," he answers, staring right into her eyes.
She relaxes a little, urges her hips into his, and he grunts. "You need to be king," she continues.
He stops again, this time in mid-thrust, and she can't help the whine that comes out of her mouth. "I'm no king," he says.
"You would be a good king," she says, and she means it. "You have a good heart, and, despite what you want everyone else to think, you would be a good leader."
Alistair laughs. "Anora is queen, let her be queen. I have no desire to be… royalty."
Amell ignores him, because she knows the inevitable. "Promise… promise we can at least still be friends," she says, sadly.
"If I'm king," he says, and he begins moving again, clearly past the point of being serious, "I promise I will never let you leave my side."