#dirthail x Alistair

[thiefbird]

Things I'm especially interested in writing tonight!

Killian Amell x Loghain Mac Tir

Fenhanders/Justfenhanders (what a mouthful!)

Dirthail Mahariel x Alistair Theirin

And as usual I always love:

Hawke x Anders/Fenris/Merrill/Isabela

QPPs Hawke and Varric

Fenders

Warden x Anders

Cheeky Nanders

Kanders

Anders x Happiness

M!Solavellan

Adoribull

Merribela

Hawke terrorizing Cullen at Skyhold

Anora and Alistair's platonic marriage

Seranni x The Architect (warning: I may attempt to write poetry)

Pretty much anything! Give me weird rarepairs! Give me two characters who have never interacted and a random song lyric!

[thiefbird]

Welcome to dadwc friend!!! I would love to see your darling Dirthail telling someone off. Fierce warden vibes all day. 😌

One dose of yelling at Wynne coming up!

@dadrunkwriting

~~~

"You and she are very close, aren't you?" Wynne mentioned as Dirthail approached from Morrigan's fire. Dirth hummed noncommittally, trying to step around her. Wynne caught him by the shoulder and tugged him into her tent.

"Do not ignore me, young man," she scolded. Busybody old biddy.

Dirth sneered at her. "My apologies, Wynne, I didn't see you there, however can I help you?"

Wynne scoffed. "You and the... apostate. You're quite taken with each other."

"And what business is it of yours, how I spend my time?" Dirth all but spat.

"She's hardly discrete," Wynne complained, crossing her arms. "The way she looks at you, it's as though she's completely forgotten there's anything of you above the waist."

Dirthail snorted. "And? Creators take you, do you mean to deny me my fun?"

"Oh, sweet Maker," Wynne said, blessing herself with a gesture. "Is a little decorum from you two too much to ask?"

"Probably more likely to get it from Zevran," Dirth muttered caustically.

Wynne pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. "Moving on. I noticed your... blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going."

Dirth gave her a disbelieving look as she continued. "She is a cunning woman, a maleficar. She will use you for her own ends."

Rolling his eyes, Dirth turned away from her. "Morrigan and I understand each other, which is more than you can say about anyone, I warrant."

Wynne's eyes flashed angrily, and Dirth could feel the tingle of her connection to the Fade flaring. "Do not dare to assume my experiences, young man! I am trying to tell you what I see, what my instincts tell me. Even if your feelings for the witch are genuine, that does not make it good."

"Because she isn't one of your passive Circle mages?! Because she has more of the Fade in her finger than in your entire miserable, spirit-taken form?" Dirth shouted, enraged. Creators, but she was infuriating.. .everything he hated of the shemlen packed into an old woman, that was Wynne.

"Because you are a Grey Warden! You have responsibilities which supersede your personal desires, you impertinent child!" Wynne was seething, Dirth could feel it in the waves of mana flowing from her.

"You are not my Void taken commander, Wynne. You are here under my command. Do not lecture me about my responsibilities!"

Sneering, Wynne turned away. "If talk of your responsibilities bothers you, you are entirely too much of a child to have any sort of intimate relationship," she said snidely.

Dirth stared at her, wide-eyed. "I'm too much of a child? Coming from you, who cannot even find her own supper without a Tranquil slave to fetch it for her? Keep your judgements to yourself, Wynne. I do not wish to hear them." He spun on the spot and stormed from her tent.

How dare she tell him his business? How dare she tell him he was a child when he had survived so much? He whistled for Barkspawn to stay, ignoring his whine of protest, and headed into the woods around camp.

Dirthail walked for half an hour or so, seething, till he found a small stream. Stripping off his armor and clothes, he stepped in, hissing at the cold on his bare legs. It wasn't deep enough for swimming, but he lay down and rested his head on the bank, freezing the anger out.

Wynne was too important to the party. Morrigan only knew a small amount of healing magics, and they couldn't continue burning through healing potions and poultices the way they had before. He would have to apologise for shouting, to keep the peace.

Frustrated with the whole situation. he slammed the back of his head against the rock beneath it a few times, before he was caught by big, warm hands. Alistair gently lowered him down, looking concerned.

"Wynne?"

Dirth scrubbed a palm over his face. "Creators, was I that loud?" he asked, sitting up and shivering.

"I'm not sure if your Creators heard you, but the Maker probably did," Alistair teased. Dirth chuckled.

Alistair helped him out of the stream, wrapping him in a blanket. They settled beside the stream on an old stump, Dirth leaning tiredly against his fellow Warden. "So what was that blowup about?" Alistair asked after a while.

"Apparently a Warden shouldn't do anything other than be miserable." Dirth huffed. "I'm surprised she waited so long to say anything, Creators know she hates Morrigan. Worse than you, even."

Alistair tensed at the mention of Morrigan. "I don't hate her, I'm just... a reasonable amount of concerned she'll turn me into a toad," he said with a forced laugh, pulling away from Dirthail slightly. Dirth sat up, giving him space, but Alistair tugged him back with an arm around his shoulder after a few seconds.

"Well, Wynne does hate her, and she's our best-"

"Our only-"

"Our only healer," Dirth corrected. Morrigan was starting to pick it up from watching Wynne, but the old bat refused to actually teach her. "I'll have to apologise."

Alistair made a sympathetic face. "She... is a lot, sometimes. But I think she means well?"

"Well, she likes you," Dirth groused. "Void take me if she ever finds out I'm technically an apostate, not just fucking one."

Alistair's ears flushed red at Dirth's language, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He was so easy to embarrass, and so cute when he was flustered; Dirth couldn't help himself.

Eventually, his shivers subsided, and they both headed back to camp. "Thank you for coming after me," Dirth murmured softly as they were petting Barkspawn.

"That's what friends do, right?" Alistair said cheerfully. Dirth tried to ignore the pang that statement sent through him, and grinned up at Alistair. "Still, thank you. You're..." Important to me? Beautiful? "A good friend."

Alistair flushed, ducking his head with a pleased smile. "So are you, Dirth."

[thiefbird]

happy friday and happy dadwc!! how about some Mahariel/Morrigan with '[ PIN ] : sender pins receiver against a wall'?

This once almost got Spicy™

@dadrunkwriting

They were stuck in Orzammar for at least one more night. Which meant at least one more night with real beds. And Dirthail, for one, was not letting this opportunity go to waste.

Morrigan was alway more likely to allow cuddling in a bed than a bedroll, too, which was a bonus. He loved the rare nights that she felt comfortable falling asleep wrapped in each other, treasured them as he treasured his nights with Alistair, his memories of Tamlen.

His thumb traced the silvered rose around his neck through his Orzammar-styled doublet, wondering if he should leave it off before going to Morrigan's chamber. She knew of his infatuation with Alistair, of course - the only member of his group who didn't was Alistair himself - and other than some well deserved teasing didn't seem to mind, but he did not wish to push his luck.

Eventually, he decided to leave it on, and after freshening up (oh how he would miss dwarven plumbing) he crossed the hall and rapped softly on Morrigan's door.

"It is open, foolish man," she said softly, and he slipped inside.

Immediately, he was pinned to the door, one hand gathering his wrists above his head, the other tilting his chin up for a claiming, almost predatory kiss. Dirthail melted against the door, boneless and blissfully pliant, before arching into her with a soft moan.

"You took too long," Morrigan chided when she pulled away. "I began to think you took up with your other lover for the night. I near fell asleep."

Dirth kissed her cheek, then down her jaw. "I have no other lover, my dear," he whispered into the crook of her neck.

"Bah, so you have not kissed him." She released his jaw to poke his chest teasingly. "Tis simply a sign of your cowardice, nothing more."

Dirth pouted exaggeratedly. "Let us not talk of him tonight, Morrigan."

She hummed thoughtfully. "Very well," she allowed, dipping her head to kiss him again.

[thiefbird]

For DADWC, bi and oblivious Alistair, Dirthail and [ NECKLACE ] : sender fastens a necklace around receiver’s neck, leaning in close to do so.

💖💖💖

@dadrunkwriting

This one got away from me in length!!

Dirthail ran his fingers over and over the faded, dried rose Alistair had given him, two nights before. It was beautiful, precious, but the meaning behind the gift was... breathtaking. It was immediately his most treasured possession, along with the rosewood ring Morrigan insisted was 'only practical'. He would need to find a way to preserve it; the dried petals were incredibly delicate, and he was constantly paranoid it would be crushed into dust in his pack. He had a few ideas, but they would all have to wait till they reached Orzammar in two days time. Until then, he'd just have to pack very carefully.

They reached Orzammar without any difficulties, luckily, and the moment he had a chance he left everyone in the Warden estate and headed for the Smith district, rose carefully cupped in his palms. He quickly found a silversmith who was confident in her ability to preserve the bloom. "Come back tomorrow, Warden. It shall be ready for you in the morning," she instructed, her pride in being entrusted with such a token by the Warden almost palpable.

He rushed back, hoping Alistair had not noticed his disappearance. Luckily, it appeared Leliana had tempted him into a game of cards, and he simply called him over with a shout.

"Still haven't learned to bluff, Ali?" Dirth teased, sitting down on the stone couch beside his fellow Warden. Alistair chuckled at the good-natured teasing. draping on arm affectionately around Dirthail's shoulders. Dirth leaned into the embrace, tucking his head against Alistair's collarbone.

Leliana giggled happily, the undying romantic in her enjoying Dirthail's hopelessness, no doubt. "Oh, you two are so sweet!" she cooed. Alistair looked bemused.

"You only say that because you're worried I might beat you with Dirth's assistance!" he complained. showing Dirthail his hand.

Liliana pouted, giving Dirth a concerned look. She, like the rest of their companions, knew of his obvious crush on Alistair, and regularly attempted to convince him to make his feelings known. Dirth shook his head subtly, and her pout intensified

"You two are no fun!" she complained, folding her cards and disappearing to her chamber.

The next morning, Dirth rose before his companions and rushed to his silversmith. "Warden! You will be pleased with what we created for you, I am certain," she said, waving him over eagerly, and pulled a delicate chain from her pocket.

"I took the liberty of putting it on a necklace for you. It seems like something you would wish to keep close." She held out the rose, now delicately coated in a layer of silver, carefully patterned on the edges. Dirthail gasped, gently cradling it between his fingers. It was gorgeous, and he told her as much.

"I am so glad that you like it, Warden!" she exclaimed. Looking around, she added, "If you could bring me more flowers, either like this or fresh, I believe I could sell them here in Orzammar. Your appearance has sparked an interest in surface things, anything elvhen. If you could bring me flowers, and perhaps wear it visibly to a Proving, I would waive the cost."

Dirthail grinned at the suggestion. "I can absolutely arrange that," he agreed. The smith grinned back, offering her hand for them to shake on it.

He nearly ran back to the Palace district, throwing himself into Alistair's room. "Ali, Ali, look!"

Alistair sat up, bleary-eyed with sleep. "Dirth, is everything alright?" he asked, throwing the blanket off and exposing his bare chest to the cool, damp air.

"Yes, yes, everything's fine!" Dithail reassured him, climbing onto the bed and sitting beside him. He hooked a calf over Alistair's thigh. "That rose you gave me? Look at this!" He held it out to Alistair, who stared in awe.

"You... kept it," he breathed, stunned. He traced the edge of a petal with a shaking finger.

"Of course I kept it... Put it on me?" Dirth asked softly, pressing the bloom into Alistair's hands and turning so he was half in the bigger man's lap, back to his chest.

"Alright," Alistair whispered, slipping the chain around Dirth's throat. He gently brushed Dirth's hair over one shoulder and fastened the clasp. Dirthail could feel Alistair's breath ghosting over his ear and shuddered. Soon. He would tell him soon.

[thiefbird]

Married Anora / Alistair with Anora absolutely sick of hearing about Dirthail constantly: Oh, if I could go back in time When you only held me in my mind Just a longing, gone without a trace from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOWGp1zhcVE

@dadrunkwriting

"And then Dirth, of course-"

"Oh, dear Maker, husband, "Anora sighed. "If you mention him again I'll believe you are in love with him."

Alistair gaped at her. Him, in love with Dirthail? Ridiculous. "I beg your pardon?"

"You speak of him constantly, you make eyes at him when he appears in court. What else am I to think?" Her eyes sparkled with merriment as she teased him. "Do not think I am complaining, dear husband. Only simply commenting on a trend."

"I- he-" Alistair spluttered incoherently for a moment. "He has Morrigan again!"

"Hmm... that would not affect your love for him. Besides, I have you. And yet that does not stop me." She looked thoughtful. "He keeps company with that blond apostate often, as well. Dalish are not so prudish as we, in matters of the heart, Alistair.

He was not- could not be- in love with Dirth. They had not even spoken outside court in years, not since his fellow Warden had taken so very well to politics and contrived for Alistair's nemesis to also be his father-in-law. Yes, that had worked out better than expected, and it was not like Loghain was around. And of course his grudge against the elf had faded almost immediately, and had been replaced by pondering how his former friend was handling being Arl, or raising a child, or...

Oh dear Maker. He was in love with Dirth.

"I..."

"Do not look so frightened, husband." Anora rose from her seat and embraced him. "You may not speak with him, but he writes to me frequently. Go to him."

Alistair sagged into her arms. "Tomorrow. I must go tomorrow..."

"Then I will write to him tonight, to expect you."

[thiefbird]

OC asks, 19 and 23 please!

19: do they tend to panic in certain situations or are they more calm?

Dirthail panics internally, but after the Bought he's gotten really good at PRETENDING he's calm, because otherwise Alistair would freak out

23: what is something dumb that irritates them a lot?

In general: he finds the Warden tabards to be really itchy. He actually ended up getting his remade from silk once he became Arl of Vigil's Keep because the wool bothered him too much.

That Morrigan does: that she never wants to cuddle. He respects it and doesn't force it on her, but it makes him sad.

That Alistair did: he found the fact that Alistair liked to lie completely on top of him really annoying, because it was hard to breathe, but now that they aren't friends he misses being squished.

That Anders does: socks, same as Hawke.

[thiefbird]

A soft, early morning with Dirthail and Alistair:

Dirth rolled over, draping himself halfway across Alistair's broad back in an attempt to keep him from leaving their bedroll. "G' back t'sleep, Ali," he mumbled, face pressed between Alistair's shoulder blades.

Alistair flipped over and sat up. Dirth slid down so his head rested on Alistair's stomach and made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat.

"Don't you want breakfast?" Alistair asked the tiny elf as Dirth struggled upright, ending up straddling Alistair's lap. Alistair flushed, turning his face away, but Dirth didn't seem to notice his embarrassment, thank the Maker.

"No, wanna go back t'sleep," Dirth reiterated, shoving at Alistair's shoulder ineffectually. Alistair chuckled and obediently lay back down. Dirth signed happily and shoved his face into Alistair's neck, lying completely on top of the larger man's chest now.

Alistair felt his flush deepen as Dirth's lips brushed gently against his pulse point, and he carefully wrapped his arms around the tiny elf's waist. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth and affection radiating from his... From his *friend*.

They were friends. Friends could cuddle, right? Not that Alistair had ever had a friend he cuddled with, that he *wanted* to cuddle with, unless you counted Arl Eamon's mabari. But Dirth was... *involved* with the witch, so... They were friends.

Dirth squirmed closer, and Alistair but back a soft noise sound as their legs tangled together. Dirth was his friend. His friend whom he occasionally had more-than-friendly thoughts about. He shifts his hips away guiltily, twisting into his side and watching Dirth's sleeping face.

Maker, but he was gorgeous. Rich, tawny skin, raven-dark hair, a strong nose and full lips.

"Can feel you watching me," he muttered, smirking sleepily with his eyes still closed. Alistair blushed again, caught out, and dropped his head heavily back onto the bedroll.

"There was a spider on your nose," he lied. Dirth's laugh rumbled through his chest.

"Is that so?"

"Yep. Giant, hairy brown one, almost the size of my fist." Alistair breathed deeply, inhaling Dirth's clean, crisp scent: elfroot smoke, sweat, and forests. It was quickly becoming his favorite smell.

"Where'd it go?" Dirth asked playfully.

"I killed it for you, don't worry. I know you hate spiders."

"Well, thank you, my hero." Dirth rolled over to face Alistair, a soft smile on his face, the one he reserved for Alistair. "I guess I'm awake now, shall we get up?"

Alistair shook his head, dragging Dirth close. "No, it's still early."

[thiefbird]

5 Nd 7 for the romance asks please

Sorry this took me so long, I forgot I never hit Post!

5) How do they comfort each other when they are sad? 

Dirth and Morrigan: They like to sit quietly together and drink fancy wine about it. Morrigan isn't big on cuddling, but she'll sometimes pet or braid his hair for him.

Dirth and Alistair: Alistair likes to be the little spoon and let Dirth hold him when either of them are sad.

Dirth and Anders: Anders isn't great at dealing with Feelings at first, due to Circle repression, so he sorta runs away and hides whenever either of them are feeling down in the beginning, but as he realises no-one can punish him for having feelings, he becomes really good at letting Dirth vent about whatever is bothering him.

7) Favorite date activity?

Dirth and Morrigan: spending time with Kieran, or trying (and failing) to teach Dirth shapeshifting. Morrigan thinks it's hilarious.

Dirth and Alistair: Sparring and talking.

Dirth and Anders: curling up in the library and reading together.

[thiefbird]

Currently obsessed with Dirthail's relationship with Alistair

They're Best Friends™ and also Definitely In Love but neither of them talk about it so they just. Cuddle? And share a bedroll constantly??

And Alistair is So Jealous of Dirth's (explicitly romantic/sexual) relationship with Morrigan but doesn't know how to express this so just picks at Morrigan the whole time.

Dirth, meanwhile, is coming from a wholly different culture than Alistair (I headcanon the Dalish as being much more relaxed about relationships and monogamy) so doesn't realize Ali is bothered. Morrigan has never interacted with real people so she also just. Doesn't get it? SHE doesn't want to share her bedroll, she likes her space, so she doesn't care that Dirth is constantly all over Ali either.

And they're all just. Really bad at talking.

And then the Landsmeet happens and Alistair and Dirth have a Break Up very dramatically despite never having been Officially Together

[thiefbird]

Regret 

"You... Lethallin..." 

Creators, it couldn't be. Dirth fell to his knees in front of the ghoul. "Tamlen, ma vhenan..." 

"Don't go near me!" he snapped, cringing back. "Stay away!" 

The ghoul snapped his teeth at Dirth's outstretched hand before flinging himself away from camp, off into the woods. Dashing tears from his eyes, Dirth chased after him, easily catching up to the frail husk of his former love. Tamlen was curled up in the gnarled roots of a tree, hands clutching at himself, tearing at the paper-thin skin stretched over his bones. "Don't look at me!" he begged. "Am sick. Sick like the dead." 

Dirth slowly crouched down. "We can help you, Tam," he murmured, reaching out for him. Tamlen flinched, but let Dirth delicately touch his shoulder. "Don't be afraid, ma vhenan." 

Tamlen shook his head frantically,  tearing at what little hair remained on his scalp. "No help. No... help for me..." He snapped his teeth at Dirth's arm, making the smaller elf jump. 

"The song... in my head. It... calls to me. It sings to me! I can't... stop it." He ducked away, scrabbling backwards in the dirt. "Don't want... to hurt you, lethallin. Please, stop me..."

"Tam, please!" Dirth lunged after him, almost falling on his face. "Let me try to heal you, put you through the Joining! I can't lose you a second time..."

Tamlen shook his head. "Too... too far gone, vhenan. Cannot help me. Gone down in the deep with the rot."

"Please, lethallin... ar lath ma..." Dirth whispered, tears streaming down his face as he pulled the ghoul into his arms.

"Always... loved you. So.. sorry." Suddenly, the ghoul snarled, twisting in Dirth's arms to sink his teeth into Dirthail's neck. Dirth gasped as hot blood ran down his throat and soaked into the neck of his tunic, and shoved himself back. He only realized moments later that he'd shoved his knife into Tamlen's ribcage, defending himself on instinct.

Dirth sobbed, crumpling to the ground in a miserable heap as Tamlen choked on his final breath. He had no clue how long he stayed there, crying in the dirt, but suddenly Alistair was hovering over him, concern radiating from him.

"Who was that?" he asked softly as he helped Dirth to his feet. Dirth leaned his weight gratefully against the taller man.

"His name was Tamlen," he whispered hoarsely. "My Tamlen..." Another wave of sobs wracked his body.

"Tamlen? Then... he was the one who was with you when you..." Alistair paused, wrapping his arms around Dirth's smaller frame. "I'm so sorry, Dirth. This is what happens when the Taint is left unchecked. It's... it's better for him, to have it end. It was a mercy."

Dirthail shuddered in Alistair's arms. "He knew me, Ali... he knew me! And I killed him..."

Alistair pulled back and cupped Dirth's cheek in his palm. "I heard him. He wanted you to end it." Dirth closed his eyes, nodding, and allowed Alistair to lead him the rest of the way back to camp.

~~~

Dirth crouched down in the tall grass, stalking forwards silently as he approached his quarry. Suddenly, he sprang forwards, tackling Tamlen to the ground and laughing as they rolled together down the hill.

"Dirth, lethallin!" Tamlen spluttered as they landed at the base, Dirth straddling his hips. "No fair."

"All's fair in love and war!" Dirth replied in a singsong voice, pinning the taller elf's wrists to the ground triumphantly.

"And which is this?" Tamlen's voice dropped in pitch.

"A little bit of both?" Dirth leaned down and brushed his lips against Tamlen's, before darting away into the grass again.

They took turns hunting each other through the long grass until they were laughing too hard to sneak. They lay, breathless, in a tangle of limbs, happy and relaxed. Dirthail leaned up on his elbow to grin down at his Tamlen, and-

"Dirthail," Alistair said softly. "It's time to pack up camp."

Dirth blinked the sleep from his eyes and squinted up at Alistair. "I'll be out shortly," he muttered, turning away and curling in on himself. He wanted nothing more than to disappear back into the fade, back to the dream, Tamlen's arms. But there was a Blight to end.

Also posted at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39549006

[thiefbird]

19, 42, or 48 for the micro story? 😁

I... May have done all three

19: Sea Change, for Anders and Nathaniel Howe(just a HINT of past Nanders)

He was... So different from the flippant young man Nathaniel recalled chasing skirts (and trousers) around the Vigil. Of course he was. But was it only Justice's presence that enacted such a sea change in him?

Nathaniel doubted it. Justice had always been... Idealistic. Almost naive. This new Anders was cynical, beaten, downtrodden. It hurt his heart to see his... To see Anders like this, to see how his time away had hurt him.

42: Savior, for my Warden Dirthail Mahariel Sabrae and Alistair(they have a Complicated Relationship that toes the line between ace-romantic and platonic)(this one got away from me in length)

Sometimes, Alistair wondered how he'd gotten so lucky.

Sure, he'd gotten a rotten start, between Isolde and the Chantry, and then throw in losing Duncan and the other Wardens. But gazing across the campfire, watching Leliana weave a complicated braid into Dirthail's hair, he felt so Maker-damned lucky he could cry.

Until the *harpy* opened her mouth, that is. Alistair didn't understand how Dirthail tolerated her, let alone why he spent his time hunting down baubles and trinkets to gift her.

Morrigan muttered a complaint about the state of tonight's dinner, but before Alistair could formulate a response to defend the honor of his cooking, Dirthail brushed Leliana off and shot Morrigan a nasty look.

"If you'd like to cook, be my guest. Until then, no complaints. *I* think Alistair's cooking is delightful."

Alistair flushed, ducking his head at the unearned praise. Morrigan sneered at him, tossing her head dismissively.

"I do not understand why you forever choose to be his savior, Dirthail. You save him from his responsibilities as senior Grey Warden, you save him from darkspawn, you save him from the slightest criticism," she said haughtily before retreating to her own campfire.

Dirth dropped to the ground beside Alistair, butting his head affectionately into the taller man's shoulder. "Just ignore her, Ali," he murmured softly, leaning his full weight against Alistair's side. "She's just nervous and prickly about going South again."

Alistair sighed mournfully. "She's right, though. You're always coming to my rescue."

"And I always will. I'm your savior. And you're mine."

48: Rampage, for Justice and Anders (this one is kinda sad; I wanted to play with Anders'/Justice's guilt complex, and how they try to atone for their perceived sins)

They'd almost killed a child. A mage child, a young girl they'd meant to rescue.

All because they couldn't control themselves around Templars.

Just the sight of purple and silver made their jaw clench, their shoulders hunch defensively. The Sword of Mercy (they couldn't even laugh at the irony of the name, not after Karl and the mercy they'd shown him) sent them on a rampage. It wasn't safe for them to be around people, but every time they thought to leave, another Darktown resident would appear at the clinic door to halt their packing. They couldn't abandon those who needed them.

And sure they kept working, till the was more lyrium than blood in their veins, till their stomach cramped with hunger, till their fingers bled. And then, just a little bit longer. Always a little bit longer.

[thiefbird]

Alistair meeting Anders again after Anora makes him go after Dirthail 👀👀👀

I had a fun idea for this! For @dadrunkwriting

Alistair rushed up the stairs to Dirth's quarters, dodging servants and junior Wardens as he went. He'd never been up here, had barely ever set foot in Vigil's Keep, really. Thankfully the senechal had given him detailed instructions on how to get there, or else he'd have been completely lost

The hallway at the top of the stairs was dauntingly long, and Alistair lowed his pace, eyeing each door nervously. The senechal had advised him that Morrigan's quarters were on this hall, too, and the Howe's, as Warden-Constable, neither of which he relished seeing. Morrigan because of their long-lasting rivalry, and Nathaniel Howe because of murdering his father.

Though Dirthail had been involved in the murdering, and by all accounts, he and Howe were perfectly amiable. More amiable than Dirth and Alistair in recent years.

And didn't that sting? Alistair knew he had been the one to pull away, but still. Dirth could have reached out, could have apologised.

Alistair finally made it to the end of the hall, and without knocking, burst into the grand, yet cosy, quarters.

A fire was gently roaring in the hearth, Barkspawn snoring gently in front of it. And prone on the couch was...

A decidedly naked blond man, posed provocatively, and fast asleep.

"Oh dear Maker! Alistair exclaimed, waking both the man and the mabari as he covered his eyes.

The blond man screamed, hands flying to cover his crotch. "What the fuck?!" he shouted indignantly. "Who in the Fade are- King Alistair?!"

Alistair's face was burning red as he peeked out from behind his fingers. The man had tossed a pillow into his lap and was now leaning back on the couch, completely comfortable in his nudity now the shock had passed.

"Err- yes. That's me? I, uh, I'm afraid I don't know your name."

The naked man snorted, head lolling back on the armrest. "Of course you don't. I am Anders, former apostate and current Warden-Healer. I'm honestly hurt, ser, you were there when I was recruited."

That jostled Alistair's memory, a dim idea of arriving at the Vigil just after Dirth had taken command. "Ah, yes. You're-" Dirth's apostate. Well, his other apostate.

"You're-" he repeated, trying to find a less imprudent way to refer to Anders.

"I'm the Warden-Commander's kept man, as opposed to Morrigan, yes," Anders drawled lazily, gesturing to the room around them. "Which explains my presence. I assume you were not looking for me, but for Dirth?"

Something in Alistair's chest (not his heart, no, it couldn't be his heart) snapped at the casually possessive tone in Anders' voice. He was too late.

"Yes. I have... important matters to discuss with him. Kingly business."

Anders grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "He's busy."

"Well, when will he be available?" Alistair demanded, feeling the childish urge to stomp his foot at the cheeky expression on the mage's face.

Anders shrugged, "He's with Morrigan and their- and our son," he corrected himself, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"And you were... waiting for him?"

"Mmm," Anders agreed. "A surprise. I should probably get dressed, if you have 'kingly business' to discuss. Maybe I'll go bother Nate instead."

He stood up, smirking as Alistair averted his eyes again, and threw on a set of rather revealing robes. It was almost worse than seeing the man naked, watching him fuss with the flimsy, sheer material, draping it artfully around his waist and hips.

Anders gestured to the now-vacated couch as he moved to the door. "Good luck with your business, King Alistair." he said with a wink as he left.