Amelie wasn’t quite sure what she had expected when becoming queen of Fereldan; would it be constant dealings with nobles, and little to no free time for her and Alistair? She had been plagued with thoughts of just how horrid it would be leading up to the two of them taking the throne. However, much to her surprise, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she worried it would be. They did have to meet with nobles most days, and there was traveling to be done, but she still had quite a bit of time for herself and for the love of her life.
While their time together was always eventful, meaning Alistair or herself ended up tripping and knocking some expensive antique over or setting some place on fire, they had never quite done anything like housework or cooking in a long while. The first few months had been hectic for the two to get used to, as going from Grey Wardens to the highest of nobility was rather confusing and disorienting.
Though today was rather different. There was a single nobleman who requested a meeting that morning, and it was very short-lived. Afterwards, there was little that necessitated being done that day. So, Amelie began a stroll around the castle. In all honesty, she hadn’t the time to explore fully, and with so little to do she had the chance for once. Beginning from the attic-like room, she slowly traversed her way down the winding halls and past many a bedroom. Upon reaching the second floor, around an hour or so later, she could smell something from the kitchen, something very burnt. Oh, and someone yelling about said burnt thing, a very familiar someone. Racing down the stairs, Amelie hurriedly ran to the commotion, and, well, didn’t quite know what to do other than laugh till her throat hurt at the sight.
Alistair, now King Alistair, had tried to cook… Something. There was flour, eggs, and a mess of other ingredients all over the kitchen island. He himself was covered head-to-toe with flour, making his strawberry-blonde hair seem almost light brown. The only thing that stood out from his face, other than the mucked-on water-flour-something mixture, was his angry, amber eyes. He had been yelling at a pan he’s placed onto a counter, though it seems he may have stopped once Amelie came in. In fact, the small places without flour were becoming a distinct deep red.
“A-Amelie? U-u-uh-” Amelie tried to choke off her laughter, so she could make some semblance of actual words.
“Wha-snort-what ha-ha-have y-you don-ne Ali?” She had to brace herself on one knee and wipe the tears in her eyes away with her free hand.
“Oh, you mean other than finding new and worse ways to embarrass myself? I tried to cook a… cake. I think.” She blearily peered up at him as he scratched his head and examined the pan.
“Though, to be honest this looks more like a dog’s fetching disc.” He picked the ‘cake’ up out of the pan, and well, his description was on point. The cake had a distinct, rubbery look to it, it was only about an inch thick, and well, black as could be. Alistair wobbled it, but it didn’t move as one would think.
“Hmm, perhaps not. I know you’d force me to sleep in another room if I poisoned your dog with… this.” His upper lip curled in repugnance, Alistair threw the disc experimentally at a wall. It bounced off and hit the floor with a resounding FLOP. The two looked at each other, then burst into laughter. Amelie wobbled her way over to him, and pulled him by his soiled shirt to her.
“Maybe next time leave the cooking to the cooks, Ali. I don’t want to know just where all that flour has gotten to.” Snorting, Alistair pulled her face in for a rather demanding but short kiss.
“I’m shocked! Such a high-ranking lady, having such bad thoughts. What ever will I do with you?”
“Well, I know where and what you can start with.” He raised an eyebrow in what he seemed to think a seductive manner.
“Oh? Do tell, my lady.”
“You can start by cleaning in here up and then retiring to our room so I can clean you up.” Amelie dashed away from him, giggling when she heard him let out a rather angry huff.