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king of all birds – chapter one

king of all birds masterlist

Summary: alistair learns of his brother's execution and considers what this turn of events means for his own future

Warnings/Tags: discussions of death/execution, brief contemplation of suicidal thoughts, complicated feelings about siblings

Words: 879

Author’s Note: yay!! chapter one!! 🥰 I decided to start the story with alistair learning about his brother's execution, and go from there, although I'm also thinking I'll probably incorporate flashbacks to earlier moments as the story goes along. based on my personal experiences and on my own interpretation of his character, I've written alistair as both asexual and autistic. obviously these were not classifications that were understood in the 1300s in the same way we understand them today, so I never say anything explicitly, so if you would prefer to read him as one or neither of those things, absolutely go for it! I just wanted to say that up front since it may make my interpretation of him make a little more sense ☺️ I really hope you enjoy!! 🥰

england, circa 1320

When his mother came to tell him the news, Alistair was where he often was: with his birds. He was familiar with the unique sounds of each of his family’s footsteps as they climbed the stairs to the tower, and he mumbled out a soft greeting before she had even breached the doorway. His eyes were on the bird in front of him as he gently stroked the silky feathers of its chest.

“Alistair,” there was an edge to his mother’s voice that caused his head to instantly snap toward her. The first things he noticed were her hands twisting the ample fabric of her gown and the barely-dried tear tracks streaking down from her red-rimmed eyes. Instantly, Alistair raised himself to his full height and crossed the stone floor of the chamber in a few quick strides. Taking his mother’s hands in his own, he freed the rumpled fabric from her tight grasp. As he looked down at her, there was no need for him to voice the question that she read clearly in his eyes. What has happened?

“Oliver…” her voice caught in her throat, and Alistair waited in growing panic as she swallowed. What ludicrous schemes had his brother and father gotten up to now? He would usually have felt the sting of annoyance at hearing news of his idiot brother, but his mother’s countenance tempered that impulse. “Noll…” Alistair didn’t miss the way she switched to the family’s affectionate nickname for their firstborn son, “he is to be executed.”

As though saying the words pressed the last of the breath from her body, she collapsed forward. Alistair caught her by reflex only – his thoughts were riding far afield. He knew of the twisted web of conspiracies in which his father and Noll were constantly embroiled, but he had no idea that they were serious enough to land Noll on the executioner’s block.

Perhaps it was years of suffering through long dinners where Noll’s intoxicated voice rang out across the table, not permitting any conversation except that which pertained to his “brilliant” plans. Or maybe it was the countless trips that Noll dragged him on where Alistair was forced to exchange banal pleasantries with other noblemen in order to win their loyalty. Perhaps it was the near-constant bruise that had formed on Alistair’s big toe from all the times that Noll had stepped on his foot under the table when Alistair had simply been stating a reality, but Noll considered it an “insult” that would “offend the other barons.” And maybe it was all the jokes Noll had made to his friends, other nobles, and anyone else who would listen about Alistair and his birds. But whatever comprised the bitter concoction of memories that settled in Alistair’s stomach, he didn’t feel as sorry or as sorrowful as he knew he was meant to. Noll had been sticking his hand inside a wasp’s nest for years, foolishly thinking he would find honey, and now he had finally been stung.

Alistair let his mother cry into his chest as he held her upright, these thoughts and a thousand more coursing through his mind. In the whirlwind of the moment, he realized he wasn’t even sure what his brother was being executed for. Idiocy, I suppose, he thought, though he knew it was callous. Although, if that was his crime, he should have been killed for it years ago, the bitterest part of his mind reminded him. If his mother had not been there, he might have allowed himself a dark chuckle, but he restrained himself on her behalf.

As the news of Noll’s impending execution steeped in his mind, dark fears began festering in his stomach. His brother’s untimely demise would make Alistair the eldest son, dooming him to inherit – a fate he had narrowly avoided by the chance of his birth. Inheriting would necessitate the production of heirs to ensure the line of succession, and the production of legitimate heirs could only be assured through marriage, an institution that Alistair had long deemed to be odious in nearly all regards.

While others scorned it, Alistair had relished in the lot of a second son – an existence of relative obscurity that ultimately required little of him. To be so suddenly thrown into what was certain to be a lifetime of acting as both host and guest, making polite conversation, constantly negotiating and re-negotiating access to lands and properties and power, and being shut up in various keeps and estates, retained indoors by the demands of both papers and people – the notion of it nearly made him physically ill. By the time his mother had regained her composure and departed from the tower, Alistair found he reviled his brother more for dying than he ever had whilst he was still living. Of course it would be just like Noll to go out with one last humorless joke, one final sharp heel to Alistair’s already-bruised foot. He half wished he could take his brother’s place on the executioner’s block, merely to preclude the torture that was to come, but there was one thought that stayed these dreary contemplations and forced him back to himself. He must not think only of himself, but also of the unfortunate fates of his sisters.

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The Hawk and the Hare

An introduction to the first chapter of The Hawk and the Hare, an Alistair x OC slow burn.

Early morning fog settles over the rocky fields of the North Yorkshire Moors, passing through low shrubs of heather, leaving dew droplets in its wake. Taking advantage of the low visibility, a brown hare hops tentatively from shrub to shrub, not quite willing to risk being so careless despite being hidden from predators. A velvet nose twitches, snuffling across the wet grass, as beady yellow eyes dart up every so often to keep watch for birds of prey that would tear him apart. Ripping fresh roots from the near frozen earth, he feasts before the mist has a chance to dissipate with the rising sun. He finds a spot with particularly lush grass and juicy weeds and begins to have his fill. With his front paws, he digs, claws breaking through the hard ground before snuffling through the wet dirt in search of his meal.

Sensitive feet pick up the rumbling before his ears do, and he manages to dart out of the way of danger with milliseconds to spare as a pale hand breaks through the earth where he once stood, the hare does what he knows best, and he bounds through long grass taking twists and turns to flee the new danger he wasn’t expecting.

The dirtied hand claws at the ground, pulling apart the soil with too much ease. Rocks tumble down the sloped hill as the danger unearths himself, peaty soil caked in his blonde tresses. Wild, black eyes squint to avoid the harsh dawn and he lifts a blackened hand to shield them from the orange light he hadn’t been exposed to in nearly two decades. He takes an unnecessary deep breath, the icy winter air hurts his nostrils initially, but as famished as he was, he could immediately detect human blood in a north-eastern direction, around twelve miles out. As he had done for eighteen years though, Alistair was content to ignore his burning thirst for a little while longer and instead took a moment to get used to the light he was cut off from for such a long time. The fire in his throat was a dull ache he often learned to live with, ashamed of what he was and willing to let himself suffer for it.

The Moors hadn’t changed all too much over the centuries he had been wandering the earth, which was the very reason he chose to bury himself twenty feet beneath them , so that he could wallow relatively undisturbed for as long as he could manage in the comforting embrace of mother earth. His thirst he could deal with, as a being as old as himself had mastered patience and suffering. Despite his gaunt cheeks and the no doubt purple bags under his obsidian eyes, the burning in his throat was not at the top of his list of grievances.

Alistair’s pesky little talent had been irritating him for a short while now, give or take twenty years, leading him astray from what he had been looking for before he elected to bury himself and ignore it—as he usually does with things he does not take joy from. It pulled his insides apart the further he fled from it, and it wrung his guts in its fists the more he dwelled on it. It begged for him to follow it, as it always did, but with this it was difficult to ignore and that scared him. He did not know what—or who—waited for him at the end of this twisting knife in his belly, but whatever it was it was new. New was bad. Unknown. Foreign. Dangerous.

For the first few years with the worms, the pull was easy to ignore. He could preoccupy his mind with silly nothings in a language long forgotten. When it got even worse, he elected to simply think of absolutely nothing, laying frozen in time in an almost sleep—not quite aware of anything and yet attune to everything around him. Even when his thirst was at the back of his mind, the pull persisted. It would rear its ugly head at the worst moments.

Finally, enough was enough. He did not know what awaited him, but he was deathly sick of feeling torn in two like this. Whatever it was, he would find it and destroy it.

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As always, taking headcanon requests and feedback.

#alistair twilight #the twilight saga #alistair x reader #alistair headcanon #breaking dawn #slow burn

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Alistair SFW Alphabet

I wrote this instead of sleeping, enjoy.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

People show and receive love in different ways, sometimes all; so I’ve split into 5

Words of affirmation – This man is the first to tell you that he’s proud of you, or that you’re doing great. He truly loves watching you flourish in whatever you put your mine to and is your biggest supporter alongside it. He loves telling you how beautiful you look, or complimenting you in general. He lives off the flustered look on your face every time he does it.

Quality time – If you like parallel play, this is your man. You may not always do things together, but he’ll be whittling away in the corner as you go about your hobbies. He loves watching films/tv with you, even if he doesn’t enjoy the film he enjoys cuddling up with you on the couch.

Gifts – He’ll steal anything for you, if your eyes light up as you pass a store window, its in your house the next day. You want for nothing, truly. He’ll make you things, too. Little wooden figurines, leather gloves he’s made.

Acts of service – You need something fixed? It’s done before you even have a chance to mention it. He’s scoured the instruction manual, and it’s done. He’s a lousy cook, given he hasn’t eaten proper food in a very long time, but will genuinely try. He’s bringing you cereal and mildly burnt toast in the mornings, along with tea or coffee so you can eat before you get up.

Physical touch – Loves to have his skin on yours, even if its just interlinked pinkies when you’re walking, or your legs on his lap when you are reading on the couch. He likes to practise braiding your hair if its in range. Running the back of his fingers up and down your arm. Forehead kisses. Arms around your waist when you’re cooking or washing dishes. He knows fine well what gentle kisses on the side of your neck or your shoulder does to you, and it eggs him oon to be a complete tease through and through.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Becoming best friends with this man is a long and arduous journey. Carlisle has been trying for centuries now, and Alistair doesn’t even text back. It is a lot of work to get close to this man.

It is absolutely worth it, though. When this man is your best friend, he is your ride or die. He’s got your back even if you’re clearly in the wrong and will check you on it when you’re alone instead of in front of others. He’s a great listening ear, and will forever show interest in whatever thing that has caught your attention, even if its silly.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He really does but he won’t ever admit that out loud. If you’re close enough to Alistair to be able to cuddle him in the first place, its pretty easy to figure out what he enjoys and what he doesn’t without his verbal input.

Whether you’re human or not, his favourite ways to cuddle would be with him on his back, with your head oh his chest. Maybe a wee cheeky leg over the waist too. He’ll play with your hair, running his fingers across your scalp, and will hold you close as though you’ll get up and run at any moment.

He also loves to lay on you, he’s heavy despite his slight build, but he’ll lay between your legs with his head on your chest. Extra points if you also play with his hair, too.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Not really one for settling down with kids and a white picket fence. Settling down for Alistair just means being with you. He will follow you wherever you choose to go, in anything you choose to do.

Cooking? No. Guaranteed the fire alarm will go off every time he gets near a stove, and he doesn’t really know the perfect blend of spices for much of anything. He does try, though, and that’s what counts.

He had never cleaned before in his life, and truthfully, he doesn’t leave a lot of mess by himself, but if he can help you by doing the dishes or cleaning the bathroom, he’ll give it a good go so that you don’t have to do it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I’ll be honest, Alistair would run away. Quite simply. However, he wouldn’t commit to anything unless he were very sure it wouldn’t end. He’s in it for the long run. If this man even introduced himself to you, hes not leavin.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Marriage isn’t anything necessary to Alistair, he is happy to exist alongside you without it. He’s completely committed to you whether you have a ring on your finger or not. If you were to get married, it would be a small affair, and that would be his only request. Would be absolutely chuffed to call you his spouse, though.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Incredibly gentle. You are cherished in this relationship, like you’re made of porcelain. This man will never raise is voice around you. He’s holding you when you cry, listening to your grievances, whispering encouraging words to you.

In terms of himself, it isn’t often he’s emotionally vulnerable, but it does happen, and he appreciates a loving partner to get him through it. Listen to his fears, to hold him when he grieves.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

LOVES hugs, does not love hugs from people not on the very short Hug List. If you’re not on that brief list honestly don’t even acknowledge this man’s presence he would prefer if you did not speak to him what-so-ever.

If you are on this list, a hug is his guilty pleasure. Loves to scoop you up into his arms if you’re reunited after a while apart and will hold you for as long as you’ll put up with it.

His huge feel safe, you are secure in his arms. Despite his low body temperature, they’re warm. He smells earthy, like moss. Always smells like he slept outside—in a good way.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Honestly? Years. Saying the big “I love you” is a terrifying prospect to anyone and saying so for the first time would put him in a position to be let down/emotionally vulnerable which he simply will not do easily.

However, he will show it. You know you are loved because he is simply there, You are looked after. He will do things for you, is attentive to your needs and wants.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Not a very jealous person at all. Quite insecure in himself though. He’s convinced you could find better, do better than him, and that there’s someone that could offer you more than he can. It takes him a very long time to realise that he means as much to you as you do to him. Once he realises this, there is no long-lasting doubt in his mind about your feelings or loyalty.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Very soft. Alistair isn’t a rough man with his kisses. Gentle slow kisses that leave you wanting more. He loves to leave kisses along your shoulder or leaving a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

His favourite kisses to receive are on his neck, or the rushed kisses on his cheek when you’re running out the door.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Not very good. Children are all in your business and asking questions, as is their curious nature. He doesn’t appreciate it.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

On a slow morning, you are wrapped up in each other’s arms and its hard to tell where one of you begins and the other ends. He’s kissing up and down your skin, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

On a busy morning, he’s woken you up with breakfast, and half of the things that need to be done are already handled. If you’re with Alistair, you have to be fairly independent, so he won’t do everything for you but will do everything he can to make your day easier before it has even started.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Sat by the fire, on the couch, talking or partaking in hobbies. Theres always more to learn about you, and him, so there’s lots to discuss and its not often that you run out of things to talk about.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Again, it takes a long time for this man to feel safe enough to open up to you. When he does, it’s little by little. Most of his opening up comes from questions from you. He wont lie to you, but if there’s something he isn’t ready to discuss he’ll tell you so, and your reaction to this will determine if he will at all. He doesn’t like prying, so respect his privacy and he’ll open up to you eventually.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Depends on who you are. It doesn’t take much to piss him off, as he’s pretty much pissed off by default.

If he loves you, you’d have to do something pretty atrocious for him to be genuinely angry at you over it. I’m not sure he’s one for forgiving or forgetting, so he’d be gone.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Remembers absolutely everything about you. Some things you don’t even have to say. He is paying attention to your reactions to things. This man does not know anything when it comes to wooing, or getting to know anyone, so he relys on watching you to figure you out and what you like.

Theres not a birthday or special event that gets missed. He is your own walking calendar.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you laughed at something he said. It was some shitty comment in passing about someone he used to know centuries prior. It was the first time you’d genuinely laughed at his hand, and hearing it made him warm up inside.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very safe. Though, he would much rather wrap you in his arms and take off running than risk you at all. If it came down to it, this man would fight to the death for you. There is no way he’s going to risk losing the only person he can stand to be around.

Would also protect you in ways you may not think. He always has your back when you’re not there, and will protect your integrity as though it were his. If you talk shit about his partner, you are not getting away lightly.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He tries his hardest. I wouldn’t say he gets it right every time, but he puts in genuine effort to make these days go well for you. That’s what counts.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s honestly pretty rude. He doesn’t know how to talk to people most of the time and will give unfiltered commentary even if it isn’t asked for. He doesn’t mean it to be hurtful, that isn’t his intention, he just genuinely doesn’t know how to socialise or interact with anyone else.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Before you he didn’t wash at all. He;d have twigs in his hair, mud under his fingernails and three week old blood on his shirt. Alistair couldn’t give a rats arse about how he looked, because no one saw him anyway.

After you he found himself taking more pride in his appearance. He may steal some new clothes, he’s washing after he feeds, and he takes care to get the sticks out of his hair. Still not particularly looks focused, but he doesn’t want you to be with an absolute slob.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Alistair still likes to spend time on his own. He’ll go and do his own thing for days at a time. He could not be with a partner that is co-dependent because it is simply not in his nature. Same goes for you, if you want to get away with friends, he will hold down the fort until you get back and tell him all about it.

If he were to lose you completely, though, he wouldn’t survive it. This man has been through too much to lose something else he cares for.

I honestly believe that even if you weren’t too keen on being turned, he would do it if he needed to in order not to lose you, and just hate himself for it later.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

This man is a prime shit talker. He loves the gossip, loves the drama. Will covertly ask you for more information so that he can have the tea. He’s judging hard too. He likes to people watch, and you’re the first to know when something strange happens, or if it’s simply something he doesn’t personally approve of.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

General – Large gatherings. In his mind there is nothing worse than making small talk with people in order to survive an event. Alistair will not be your plus one to that wedding. No way. He’d rather eat bricks.

He doesn’t like Edward, either. The melancholic little drama queen it way too up in his business for his liking, and if they’re forced to interact his inner monologue is in Middle English the whole time. That nosey git can go fuck himself honestly.

In a partner – He wouldn’t appreciate someone who is socially focused. While he’s happy for you to do your own thing, if you are constantly in need of company from others, he would simply not be with you. Same goes for co-dependency. IF you cant spend time apart, he isn’t interested.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He does not, but sometimes he will sit in a complete still state and hes not at all there mentally. I wouldn’t consider this sleep, at all. Just winding down time for ya boy.

LMK what u think, this and other headcanons linked below. I feed on attention so pls give it to me

#alistair twilight #twilight #alistair headcanon #breaking dawn #headcanon #sfw alphabet

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How does Alistair feel about physical contact by others?

No S/O;

First and foremost, Alistair hasn’t felt the touch of a person for many centuries—aside from the desperate grabbing or futile slapping of his victims as he feeds—and he prefers it that way. If one were to describe Alistair in terms of relationships, Avoidant Attachment would be on the money. He understands intimacy, having spent a lot of time watching people—and vampires—interact from a distance. While he thought little of others, he would observe humans at their best. A mother scooping her son from the ground and placing a wet kiss on his cheek would leave his chest hollow. The soft words a couple well into their seventies while they lay in their bed, safe in one another's arms had him cursing his maker for the dry tightness in his throat and the tears that would never form. He aches for a loving touch, a caress across the jaw, a loving protected embrace.

The last memories of his human life were filled with betrayal from those he held near to his heart. Coupled with immense loss, he feels the cold touch of grief regularly. Alistair likes to be alone; while he does find genuine joy in being with himself a lot of the time, it also protects him from the possibility of harm. There's no one to break his heart and trust because he does not allow anyone to have the power to do so. His heart is encased behind an impossibly large reinforced wall that he built himself. He would much rather live with the black hole of loneliness, than risk his heart and his loyalty. Solitude was the safety blanket he would wrap around himself as he hid from the world.

With S/O;

GIF by aquanova99

First of all, it took months for Alistair to make his presence known. The first time you lay eyes on him was certainly not the first time he saw you. As a patient and mistrustful man, Alistair preferred to watch you from a distance. He learned your routine, your bad habits, your hobbies and interests. His intentions were by no means love-sick, as he watched you with a cynicism and sheer stubbornness that only he could possess. Looking for any little excuse to run far away from you, ignore the illusive pull that brought him to you in the first place, hide himself away under three feet of loose dirt for another forty years.

Alistair first touched you—many weeks after he first spoke to you, mind you—when you were deep in sleep. He held your hair in his fingers, and convinced himself to trace a finger along your hairline. A featherlight touch on the tip of his index finger drawing invisible lines along the contours of your face. An almost imperceivable touch that left his skin on fire. He’d circle a freckle or two before mustering up some courage to lay a flat palm on the side of your face. It felt wrong to him, to touch you so without your knowledge, but he could not risk rejection, and he just needed to feel your skin under his touch. Commit it to memory, so that if he fled tomorrow he had something to sit with in his self imposed solitary exile.

After this, he would find excuses to touch you. Nothing severe, he would just put your favourite book on a higher shelf and would allow himself a grazing touch of your fingers as he gave it to you. Sometimes he would be bold, and would take you to places where you would need to climb over felled trees or large boulders. Having an excuse to fully clasp your hand in his as he pulled you up over an obstacle. If he had blood vessels, he would be beet red in the cheeks during these moments.

You had to initiate first romantic contact, and after that he didn’t need any excuses to touch you—so long as you were receptive to it.

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This and other headcanons over on AO3. Linked.

#Alistair Twilight #Twilight #Breaking Dawn #Alistair Headcanon #Twilight Headcanon

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