#i think he’d still call her ‘the mac tir’ all his life just to be a bitch

[vigilskeep]

very fun to have tristan in mind as i go through anora’s dialogue file actually, because it’s necessary to the narrative i have in mind that he bears a grudge against the mac tirs as a whole but wow he really would hate her in specific. which almost makes me more committed to putting her on the throne alone this run because i love the weight it gives that choice

[fairfaxleasee]

"Now, where were we? Oh, yes, in the Pit of Despair." + Alistair

For @dadrunkwriting

“Now, where were we?  Oh, yes - in the Pit of Despair.”  Alistair peaked around his wife who had finally managed to track him down where he was hiding behind a curtain with a plate of cheese ready to drag him back.

Amelia Theirin scowled at her husband, “That’s not a pit Alistair, it’s a dance floor.  And honestly, they’re telling you the cheese tastes of despair, whatever that means, so why would you eat it?”  She grabbed the cheese plate with one hand and his arm with the other and dragged him back into the ballroom.

“Uhhh...” Alistair plastered on his best ‘you know you love me’ smile as he thought of his response, “Because it’s cheese?”

Amelia sighed and handed the plate to a passing servant, “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but this is our last day here.  Just get through this party and you can eat all the not-despair tasting cheese you want.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but if you eat too much and make yourself sick I’ll have absolutely no sympathy for you.”

Alistair wrapped his arms around his still-obviously-annoyed-with-him wife and pulled her in for a hug, “But, Love, I’ve been stuck in Orlais for a week!”

“Yes, and I’ve been stuck right here with you with Orlesian noblewomen.  Honestly, I preferred the Darkspawn to Orlesian noblewomen; at least they didn’t see the need to spend all day comparing me to my sister.  I swear, if I hear the word ‘bookish’ one more time...”  Amelia tapped a foot on the ground in annoyance.

“I’m sorry, Love,” he rested his head on top of hers.  “I forgot how popular Anora was around here.”

“I’m not actually convinced she was all that popular, I think these people just like to find other’s pain points and prod them incessantly.”

“That does sound like a very Orlesian sport to take up.  Ooh, what if we try to get them to play a good old-fashioned Ferelden sport!  We played stickball all the time when I was training to be a Templar.  Course, all the mud made it a bit hard to actually run, but it did soften the landing when someone knocked you over with a stick.”

He felt her giggle against his chest, “Alistair, I tell you what - if you get Empress Celene to agree to play stickball, I will do whatever you ask.”

“Can I never have to speak to your father again?”

She punched him softly in the shoulder, “I wish you could get along with my father...”

It was Alistair’s turn to scowl.  Loghain Mac Tir was responsible for the deaths of Duncan, Cailin, and countless others at Ostagar.  And if he weren’t Amelia’s father... Alistair wasn’t entirely sure what but he was sure he’d wouldn’t still have to be worried about seeing the man.

“But,” Amelia continued, “I suppose if you get Celene to play stickball, herself, not just with some servant as a proxy mind, I can make some excuse for his next three visits.  Well, after the visit where he watches it happen.”

“Ha!  I’d invite him myself for that!  I’d finally manage to do something he’d actually approve of.”

She tugged at his sleeve, “You know I tell him to get along with you too, right?”

“I know, Love.  And I promise the next time I see him I’ll be on my good behavior.”

“As long as I’m in eyeshot you mean.”

“Or earshot!  Can’t have you leaving me to fend for myself again just because you overhear me call him a spiteful-”

She poked him in the chest, “Alright, yes, I know you hate each other!  But honestly, Alistair, you should be looking on the bright side.”

“Oh?  There’s a bright side to me hating your father?”

She poked him slightly harder.  He let out a soft ‘oof,’ which made her smile for the first time in too much of the conversation.  “No, there’s a bright side of being in Orlais.”

“There is not!  Now I know you’re clever, Amelia, but you are not clever enough to find a bright side of being in Orlais!”

“Oh?  Something else you agree on with my father, that you can actually talk about, isn’t a bright side?”

Alistair considered.  He and Loghain agreed that Amelia was amazing and they loved her, and that the other was the single worst possible person to be Amelia’s father or husband, but he couldn’t imagine what else Amelia thought they were going to agree on.

“You both hate Orlais.”

“Well, yes, I suppose we do, but I’ve suffered more than he has.  He’s never had to be at one of their parties, or seen the inhumane things they’ve done to cheese, or-”

“Alistair?”

“Yes, Love?”

“Just be quiet and come dance with me.  You can tell me all about how this was the worst week of your life on the way back.  I promise not to remind you of the time when I couldn’t walk for over a week because you almost broke my ankle too often.”

“I - well - that’s... well, I suppose if we get to dance, this won’t be the worst week of my life.”

[black-emporium-exchange]

2020 Pinch Hit #7, dawnstone - CLAIMED

This pinch hit will be due at 12 PM EDT on Friday, September  4th. Please leave a comment on this Dreamwidth post (comments are screened), send a message to one of the mods, or send an email to blackemporiumexchange@gmail.com to claim.

Requested relationships:

Lucanis Dellamorte/Zevran Arainai - Fanfiction

Caterina Dellamorte/Zevran Arainai - Fanfiction

Viago De Riva/Andarateia Cantori - Fanfiction

Sky Watcher/Female Trevelyan - Fanfiction

Frederic of Serault & Rylen - Fanfiction

Brother Ferdinand Genitivi/Philliam Trevelyan/Laudine - Fanfiction

Female Amell/Sten - Fanfiction

Female Cousland/Sten - Fanfiction

Female Aeducan/Sten - Fanfiction

Felassan/Solas - Fanfiction

Desire Demon(s)/Solas - Fanfiction

Solas/Wisdom - Fanfiction

Audric & Myrna - Fanfiction

Cole & Justice - Fanfiction

Jowan/Lily/Female Surana - Fanfiction

Hollix/Original Female Human Lord of Fortune - Fanfiction

Hollix/Original Male Human Lord of Fortune - Fanfiction

Hollix/Original Nonbinary Human Lord of Fortune - Fanfiction

Loghain Mac Tir/Female Surana - Fanfiction

Female Hawke/Loghain Mac Tir - Fanfiction

Loghain Mac Tir/Female Trevelyan - Fanfiction

PH 7 - dawnstone

Request #1:

Lucanis Dellamorte/Zevran Arainai

Caterina Dellamorte/Zevran Arainai

Viago De Riva/Andarateia Cantori

Fanfiction

The Antivan Crows have a big spotlight in the recent story collection Tevinter Nights, and I'd love to see what would happen if either Lucanis or Caterina interacted with Zevran, or if they have any history together.

-Lucanis is willing to go outside the bounds of his orders to help people, which is a big no-no in the Crows. I'd love to see what would happen if he and Zevran either had to work together, or became rivals somehow sexy rivals ;D.

-Caterina Dellamorte is the elderly matriarch of her house, First Talon of the Crows, and also a woman known for beating people to death with her cane. How does Zevran regard her (considering his appreciation for older women), and does she have any weakness to his wiles?

-I wonder if Zevran is actively trying to kill either of them or vice versa.

-As for Viago and Teia, how are they faring after the tumultuous events of Eight Little Talons, and have they come in contact with a certain former Crow?

Likes:

-mission fic/case fic where they solve a problem

-loyalty kink, kneeling

-ust, resolved ust, friends to lovers, enemies/rivals to lovers

-pwp smut, dubcon

-angst and hurt/comfort

-friendship, fondness, matured relationships

-slice-of-life, humor & general shenanigans

-wild escapes, daring rescues

-making camp together, cuddling up for warmth

-exploring or expanding on existing canon and lore; worldbuilding

-anything post-canon

DNWs: Rape/Noncon, Modern AU, Character Death, A/B/O Dynamics, Character Bashing, Unrequested Backround Pairings, Crossovers

Request #2:

Sky Watcher/Female Trevelyan

Frederic of Serault & Rylen

Brother Ferdinand Genitivi/Philliam Trevelyan/Laudine

Fanfiction

Genitivi/Philliam/Laudine - they're currently on the lam, running from the Qunari and potentially still sending back intelligence to the Inquisition. How does being in constant close quarters, bar-hopping across Thedas affect these literary luminaries? Philliam and Laudine are previous lovers, how does putting Genitivi (who has a very notoriously saucy pen name) into the mix change things?

Frederic of Serault & Rylen - being stuck out in the Western Approach with few opportunities for entertainment and the constant threat of death by monsters and bandits is an excellent reason to stay in a fortified position like Griffon Wing Keep. Frederic stubbornly continues on with his research even after all of his staff have perished, and Rylen decides to keep an eye on him (Heroes of Dragon Age has Frederic as a mage, but you are free to ignore that since it's not shown in Inquisition).

Sky Watcher/Female Trevelyan - F!Trevelyan is very curious about the Avvar and their traditions; after he's recruited, Sky Watcher (you find out his name is Amund in the Multiplayer) is more than happy to teach her. Feel free to use your own Trevelyan or the default.

Likes:

-mission fic/case fic where they solve a problem

-loyalty kink, kneeling

-ust, resolved ust, friends to lovers, enemies/rivals to lovers

-pwp smut, dubcon

-angst and hurt/comfort

-friendship, fondness, matured relationships

-slice-of-life, humor & general shenanigans

-wild escapes, daring rescues

-making camp together, cuddling up for warmth

-exploring or expanding on existing canon and lore; worldbuilding

-anything post-canon

DNWs: Rape/Noncon, Modern AU, Character Death, A/B/O Dynamics, Character Bashing, Unrequested Backround Pairings, Crossovers

Request #3:

Female Amell/Sten

Female Cousland/Sten

Female Aeducan/Sten

Fanfiction

(The Wardens are obviously not completely interchangeable, but for the purposes of fic what I want from the pairings is the same. I do think F!Aeducan would probably "get" Sten the best, but the conflict in him falling for a mage is also delightful, and Cousland treading carefully while subverting his expectations would be lovely too)

After a Warden gets his approval high enough, Sten starts to call them kadan, which denotes caring about someone deeply. I'd love to read a story where Sten is head over heels with the Warden, and is extremely confused by it. She is the antithesis of everything he believes about women and bas from what he was raised believing in the Qun. His admiration of her is related most to her control of her abilities and/or battle prowess, but also he loves how practical and dutiful she is. She might find his alien point of view fascinating, enjoy carefully drawing out of him more about himself and his people, and learning to understand him better... she's also just generally into how tall and muscular he is.

Sex in Qunari society is supposed to be divorced from love, and when the topic comes up (with Morrigan) Sten seems disenchanted with the act, as well as certain he would harm a non-Qunari partner. It's not important to me if the relationship is sexual (if you can make it work, of course, I would not complain), I'm more interested in displays of mutual caring and affection with these pairings, whether it be defending each other in battle, or sharing some cookies.

Likes:

-mission fic/case fic where they solve a problem

-loyalty kink, kneeling

-ust, resolved ust, friends to lovers, enemies/rivals to lovers

-pwp smut, dubcon

-angst and hurt/comfort

-friendship, fondness, matured relationships

-slice-of-life, humor & general shenanigans

-wild escapes, daring rescues

-making camp together, cuddling up for warmth

-exploring or expanding on existing canon and lore; worldbuilding

-anything post-canon

DNWs: Rape/Noncon, Modern AU, Character Death, A/B/O Dynamics, Character Bashing, Unrequested Backround Pairings, Crossovers

Request #4:

Felassan/Solas

Desire Demon(s)/Solas

Solas/Wisdom

Fanfiction

Desire Demon(s)/Solas - Solas might say he's not tempted easily, but we all know he crumpled like wet paper the first time he was shown affection. Lacking a friendly/romanced Inquisitor, perhaps he has friends in the Fade who don't mind keeping him company. Or maybe one of them is perfectly happy to help him work out an unrequited crush on someone in the Inquisition. If this is the case, I'd prefer they weren't named or described so that the person is kept ambiguous, and keep it about how he knows it's the spirit/demon feeding on his emotions but it also happily helps him deal. Also, what would happen if the Desire Demon took on a physical form just to pursue him in the Waking World? Would he get angry or feel like he has to guide them like he did with Cole?

Felassan/Solas - Yeah, so I don't mind if the story takes place before or after the events of Masked Empire, but if it's after, there has to be some mention of how Felassan survived (he'd have to have been Tranquil for at least a little while), and how he manages to forgive Solas. If it's before, something set right after Solas wakes from uthenera would be nice, or if you want to delve into their relationship during the time of Ancient Elvhenan and the Evanuris, and potentially their days as servants to Mythal or during Fen'Harel's rebellion, that would be cool.

Solas/Wisdom - Wisdom cared deeply for Solas, but the greatest thing keeping them apart romantically would have been their natures in that he was a physical man and she a spirit whom he wouldn't want to twist against her nature (likely into a Desire demon instead of Pride). They are both ancient, so it can be assumed that they found their roles satisfying enough, though it's suspected that Solas was once a Wisdom spirit as well, and perhaps wishes he could go back to being one. I'm generally just curious about how they would spend their time together. Just how long did they know each other? After she dies, Solas looks for her in the Void and finds stirrings of her remains - would he try to put her back together from memories?

Likes:

-mission fic/case fic where they solve a problem

-loyalty kink, kneeling

-ust, resolved ust, friends to lovers, enemies/rivals to lovers

-pwp smut, dubcon

-angst and hurt/comfort

-friendship, fondness, matured relationships

-slice-of-life, humor & general shenanigans

-wild escapes, daring rescues

-making camp together, cuddling up for warmth

-exploring or expanding on existing canon and lore; worldbuilding

-anything post-canon

DNWs: Rape/Noncon, Modern AU, Character Death, A/B/O Dynamics, Character Bashing, Unrequested Backround Pairings, Crossovers

Request #5:

Audric & Myrna

Cole & Justice

Jowan/Lily/Female Surana

Fanfiction

Audric & Myrna - I am still a bit confused about Audric's nature, and just how much of him is still him but I suppose so is Audric - Myrna seems to believe his mortal soul is still remarkably intact. Down Among the Dead Men is Audric & Myrna's origin story, so I guess tell me more about how he adjusts to his "afterlife" working with her and the Mourn Watch, and how she helps give him purpose.

Cole & Justice - Two spirits who had very different experiences once pulled into the Waking World. What would Justice think of Compassion, and vice versa, how would they interact and what would happen if they had to work together. What would Justice pick up on that Cole wouldn't, what would Justice think of Cole creating his own form instead of possessing something? I'm very curious about how they would bounce off of each other.

Jowan/Lily/Female Surana - Perhaps they came together while apprentices, or they were always close friends, but it became something more after the Fifth Blight and Surana tracked them both down again. Maybe she and Jowan have to rescue Lily from Aeonar and things develop from there. If she's not a blood mage, how does Surana come to terms with the dark power Lily and Jowan are willing to use?

Likes:

-mission fic/case fic where they solve a problem

-loyalty kink, kneeling

-ust, resolved ust, friends to lovers, enemies/rivals to lovers

-pwp smut, dubcon

-angst and hurt/comfort

-friendship, fondness, matured relationships

-slice-of-life, humor & general shenanigans

-wild escapes, daring rescues

-making camp together, cuddling up for warmth

-exploring or expanding on existing canon and lore; worldbuilding

-anything post-canon

DNWs: Rape/Noncon, Modern AU, Character Death, A/B/O Dynamics, Character Bashing, Unrequested Backround Pairings, Crossovers

Request #6:

Hollix/Original Female Human Lord of Fortune

Hollix/Original Male Human Lord of Fortune

Hollix/Original Nonbinary Human Lord of Fortune

Fanfiction

So who are the Lords of Fortune, you might want to know?

Well, without recapping Tevinter Nights too much, they're a faction of mercenary adventurers, treasure hunters thieves and seekers of wealth and fame based out of Rivain, who can be of any race or background. They take odd and dangerous jobs from anyone who can pay the fee and have standards, so no working with slavers or punching down against the common folk. A lot of fans believe that our next protagonist in DA4 will be a member of this faction. And well, Hollix is a Lord of Fortune, though don't be deceived by the "Lord" bit, their gender is fluid and they are confirmed as nonbinary by their writer.

Hollix gained their name from Dorian after Hollix crashed a card party he was holding while attempting to spy on him - read "Luck in the Gardens" from Tevinter Nights if you want their whole story.

Writing for one of these pairings is going to require an OC and you can make them however you like, as long as the OC is from Thedas and becomes romantically entangled with Hollix. Hollix is already taking jobs from Dorian and has met Maevaris, so it's not a stretch that the new character would meet via their patrons through another such job - or perhaps they simply met in a tavern much like the one where Hollix tell their story. Go crazy, do worldbuilding, make predictions about the next game, have them do a heist, I'm all ears. :D

Likes:

-mission fic/case fic where they solve a problem

-loyalty kink, kneeling

-ust, resolved ust, friends to lovers, enemies/rivals to lovers

-pwp smut, dubcon

-angst and hurt/comfort

-friendship, fondness, matured relationships

-slice-of-life, humor & general shenanigans

-wild escapes, daring rescues

-making camp together, cuddling up for warmth

-exploring or expanding on existing canon and lore; worldbuilding

-anything post-canon

DNWs: Rape/Noncon, Modern AU, Character Death, A/B/O Dynamics, Character Bashing, Unrequested Backround Pairings, Crossovers

Request #7:

Loghain Mac Tir/Female Surana

Female Hawke/Loghain Mac Tir

Loghain Mac Tir/Female Trevelyan

Fanfiction

F!Hawke/Loghain - In the very unusual instance that Loghain survives to see Inquisition, he can be Hawke's Warden contact. I'd love something about how they met and Hawke's feelings about this man who did so much damage to the country she grew up in, but also who has worked to make restitution in the Wardens. They're both a bit adrift and away from home, heroes whose stars have diminished or fallen. How do they come together, and who ends up staying in the Fade?

Loghain/F!Surana - What made Warden Surana spare Loghain, and when do they realize they're in love? Does she convince him to do the Dark Ritual, or does one of them die against the Archdemon? Do they fall for each other in Vigil's Keep, after she's Warden Commander, or do they end up travelling to Weisshaupt together after the events at Adamant (and having survived yet again against all odds, Loghain tells Neria he's in love with her)? I'm open to any of these scenarios or anything else you might come up with.

Loghain/F!Trevelyan - The Inquisitor's work is nonstop and Loghain has a small window where he's at Skyhold and then he's either lost to the Fade or on his way to Weisshaupt. When and where do they manage to squeeze in a relationship, and what happens to make them realize their attraction? I'd love to see the reactions of the other followers, and if they are apart maybe them teasing Trevelyan a bit about her DILF paramour.

Likes:

-mission fic/case fic where they solve a problem

-loyalty kink, kneeling

-ust, resolved ust, friends to lovers, enemies/rivals to lovers

-pwp smut, dubcon

-angst and hurt/comfort

-friendship, fondness, matured relationships

-slice-of-life, humor & general shenanigans

-wild escapes, daring rescues

-making camp together, cuddling up for warmth

-exploring or expanding on existing canon and lore; worldbuilding

-anything post-canon

DNWs: Rape/Noncon, Modern AU, Character Death, A/B/O Dynamics, Character Bashing, Unrequested Backround Pairings, Crossovers

[shannaraisles]

Roll For Initiative

A commission piece for @lechatrouge673, who told me to write something that made me happy. So I ran with the DnD idea!

***

"All right, everyone ready? Settled in?"

Erin looked around the table, snorting with laughter at the sight of her brother, Patrick, attempting to steal yet more of Ana's pierogi off her plate, only to earn himself a slap on the hand and a sharp look. Across the table, Brian was finishing off his sandwich hurriedly, and Toby was - of course - going through his dice ritual to decide which ones made the cut for tonight. They were down a couple of players today, and a couple were going to be late, but that wasn't a game killer. What she had in mind for this weekend was adaptable.

"Recap away, noodle," Patrick managed through his last mouthful, wiping his hands as he did so.

"All right, then."

She drew in a slow breath, settling her thoughts, and began.

"Feeble Noobs ... "

Why did I ever let them call themselves that?

"Following a harrowing adventure in search of Andraste's Ashes, you succeeded in passing the Gauntlet of Faith, proving yourselves worthy to take a pinch of the Ashes back to Redcliffe to cure Arl Eamon and restore him to health. In gratitude for what you did, and for saving his son, as well as concern for the future of the country, he agreed to lend his voice in opposition to Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir in the upcoming Landsmeet. However, his plan involves supplanting Queen Anora, and putting Alistair on the throne instead, since your reluctant paladin is the illegitimate son of the former king, Maric."

"Backstory comes to bite me in the arse," Brian muttered with a grin.

"That's what backstory is for," Erin assured him cheerfully. "You returned to Denerim with the arl, setting up base at his estate, and began to explore the city, hoping to make a connection with some of the nobles and win them to your side. You were attacked by the Antivan Crows, lead by a former colleague of your friend Zevran, who wanted to fulfill his contract on the Grey Wardens and take him back with them. Zevran chose to place himself between Darrian and Alistair, and his former colleagues, and after a tough fight, you emerged victorious. You then decided to treat yourselves to a night at The Pearl, Denerim's foremost brothel, which I am never going to forget -"

The laughter at the table was a very clear reminder that allowing her players to have too much fun at her expense was going to turn into a story for all the years to come. Jenny, as Zevran, had insisted on sampling the delights of all the men and women at The Pearl once she'd discovered it was a fade to black situation, just to make Erin describe and play an increasingly odd selection of throwaway NPCs made up on the spot.

"Upon returning to Arl Eamon's estate, you found Erlina, Queen Anora's elven companion, beside herself with worry. Arl Howe, Loghain's right-hand man, had imprisoned the queen in his city estate. Against Eamon's wishes, you decided to rescue her. and with a series of truly stunning stealth rolls, and one very lucky save, you made your way into the Howe estate, where you freed Soris, Darrian's cousin, and discovered a few means by which you can sway some of the nobles to your cause. You were confronted by Howe himself, and managed to take down both him and his elite guard, freeing Queen Anora in the process. However, when you attempted to leave, you were stopped by Ser Cauthrien, Loghain's loyal commander, and a large number of city guards, who demanded that the Grey Wardens surrender and be put under arrest. Rather than risk the queen's presence in your midst being discovered, Darrian and Alistair voluntarily surrendered, allowing the rest of your party to escape back to Eamon's estate with the queen. And that is where we will pick up ..."

"Hey, you missed out me saving Sten's life with my amazing druid healing skills," Patrick objected mischievously.

"You're a dog, shut up," was Erin's response, sticking her tongue out at her brother for a moment before turning to Brian and Toby.

"Alistair and Darrian," she said, "you come to on filthy blankets in a dark, dingy prison. You’re in a cage - one of many that you can see lining the walls - and you can see other prisoners, some of whom have clearly been tortured, some lying very still. Your equipment, your armor, even your clothes have been taken off you as you lay unconscious. There’s a single guard patrolling the floor outside the cages. What do you do?"

"We're naked?" Brian asked in surprise.

"They've left your underpants on you, but everything else is gone," Erin clarified.

"Is there anything in our cell, or in the cells that I can reach through the bars, that I could use to pick the lock?" Toby inquired. He was always first to jump into the action if he possibly could.

"Roll an investigation check."

"While Darrian's grubbing around on the floor, Alistair's going to wrap the blanket around himself like a girl getting out of the shower," Brian interjected over the sound of rolling dice.

"Ha!" Ana grinned at him across the table. "I knew Alistair had a thing for Darrian!"

"No, he's just worried about offending his friend with the indecency of his ... manly nipples," Brian countered, blatantly not believing a word he was saying.

"5, so that's ... 10," Toby piped up.

Erin glanced at her sheet.

"You root around for a while, reaching through the bars to the cells on either side, but you don't come up with anything that could be used as a lock pick," she said. "As you finish your investigation, the guard rounds the corner to walk by your cell."

"I whip my hand back into the cell and turn to Alistair." Toby assumed his chosen accent for Darrian with an ease that made Brian mock glare at him. "What in the Void are you doin'?"

"I look embarrassed and shuffle a bit, tucking my blanket tighter around my manliness," Brian said, taking a moment to find Alistair's voice again before adding, "It's cold in here."

"What, worried y'goin' to poke my eye out with your nips?"

"Well, you do stand very close sometimes." Brian bit down on a laugh that would have destroyed his accent, and went on. "So what do we do?"

"How well armed and armored is the guard?" Toby asked Erin.

"Standard for a prison guard," she mused. "Splint mail, helmet, longsword and dagger."

"Showing any interest in us?"

"Apart from a glance in to make sure you're still there, he doesn't seem interested," she said. "Guard duty's guard duty, and you're all but naked and locked in a cage."

"Okay." Toby slipped back into Darrian as he turned to Brian. "You play sick, and when 'e comes in, I'll jump 'im."

"What with? A handful of ... what is that, poop? Ergh."

"Just do it."

Brian rolled his eyes, grinning, and turned to Erin.

"Alistair is very reluctantly going to fall down in a swoon and start groaning like there's a bear sitting on top of him," he declared cheerfully, already reaching for his dice.

"Darrian will yell for the guard to come and take a look," Toby added.

"All right." Erin considered this briefly. "Alistair, roll me a performance check."

"Performance? Ugh ..."

The dice rattled on the table. Brian took one look at the roll, and thumped his forehead onto the dice tray, holding up a single digit.

"Natural one!"

As the rest of the group burst out laughing, Erin giggled her way through the guard's reaction.

"So, while Alistair's lying on the ground making ridiculous noises, the guard comes to the cell door and looks in, and he just, he's not impressed," she said, lowering her timbre for the guard. "Very nice. D'you do duck impressions too?"

Brian snorted. "Alistair stops groaning and just looks up at the guard, sort of pouting," he said. "You don't think I have a career on the stage then?"

"Mate, you're gonna be dead in the morning, so do what you like," was the guard's response.

"How close is he to the bars?" Toby asked.

"Couple of feet," Erin answered.

"Great. I launch myself at the cell door and try to grab him through the bars."

"This is why we need Darrian," Ana commented to Patrick. "He just does stuff."

"Oh, woof." Patrick nodded sagely in agreement, laughing as she backhanded his shoulder lightly. "What? I'm a dog!"

"You're an idiot," Ana informed him with a smile.

"Roll, um ..." Erin drummed her fingers for a moment. "You know what, just roll a straight dexterity check for me."

"Twenty." Toby shook his head as she opened her mouth. "Not natural."

"Okay, well, while the guard is laughing at Alistair, Darrian rushes the bars and manages to grab him by the collar of his mail," Erin said, ignoring the quiet conversation to her right. "What do you want to do with him?"

"I want to ... yank him hard and try and knock him out against the bars," Toby decided.

"Bear in mind, you're rolling against his AC, and your arm is thrust through a space about six inches wide," she reminded him. "Give me a strength check at disadvantage."

"Oh god, strength is really not my strong suit," Toby muttered, rolling his d20 twice. "Yeah, I'm a weakling. Doesn't happen."

"What did you get?" Patrick asked curiously.

"Rolled a five and a two, so that's three," Toby said with a grin.

"All right, so as you go to yank him toward the bars, the guard pulls backwards, and your grip just isn't enough to hold onto him as he backs up," Erin narrated. "Don't you try that again, y'hear? Bloody Wardens. He scowls at you, but he doesn't come close again, just turns and goes back on his round of the prison floor."

"Can't say you didn't try," Brian said encouragingly. "So what do we do now?"

"I'm out of ideas. S'pose we're waitin' to be rescued now." Toby smirked across the table at the other two. "Over to you, fearless warriors."

"Oh, yeah, this is going to go really well," Ana drawled, glancing at Patrick.

Anyone playing off him tended to have a bit of a rough go of it because of his obtuse character creation. He'd agreed to play the game when his little sister had begged, but his condition had been that he was allowed to create his own unique character. What he had come up with was a druid stuck permanently in dog form, which made for some interesting scenarios.

"All right, so - for the sake of brevity - let's say that you got Anora safely back to Arl Eamon's estate, and it was decided that Sten and ... the dog ... have the best chance of getting the Wardens out safely," Erin said. She knew this group too well to let them have a debate, even when there were only two of them involved in it.

"Sten, Barkspawn ... you approach Fort Drakon. It's a walled, heavily fortified keep, pretty much in the center of the city, named after the Orlesian emperor who founded the Andrastian Chantry. It's the oldest building in Denerim, built out of heavy gray granite, and it kind of squats on the landscape in a series of concentric circles built around a very tall tower in the center. There are two guards on the main gate, but they don't challenge you as you pass through. What do you do?"

Ana straightened her shoulders, channeling her inner Qunari as she dropped her timbre into her character's voice.

"They call this a fort? I thought it would be bigger."

"Woof."

A shared snort of laughter went up from the other side of the table as Ana glared at Patrick. Evidently he wasn't going to make this easy on her, role-play wise. He gave her an innocent smile in answer.

"Stands to reason that the cells would be in the tower," Anna mused, apparently deciding to ignore Patrick's insight for the time being. "So I guess we go to the tower?"

Erin nodded.

"Okay then," she said, checking her notes swiftly. "The tower is easily the tallest building in the city. It's also very wide. I mean, you could fit a couple of dragons in this thing with room to spare. There are more guards in evidence in the courtyard around it, but nobody challenges you as you make your way to the door of the tower itself. However, as you approach this enormous, thick-oak door, the two guards in front of it step forward and bar your way. They are better armored and armed than the guards on the main gate of the outer wall, but they seem kind of weary, kind of bored. Door duty isn't exactly rife with excitement. One of them holds up his hand, and says to you, Sten, What is your business in Fort Drakon?"

"Barkspawn stands up a little straighter, and just looks the guy right in the eye," Patrick piped up. "Staring him down like only a mabari can."

"Sten's doing pretty much the same," Ana agreed. "He looms over the guard. I'm a giant with a war dog. Either I am making a delivery, or I am beseiging your fort. Hope for the former."

Erin chuckled. She loved the way Sten had developed over the last months.

"Okay, make a persuasion check for me."

"Why not deception?" Brian asked out of curiosity.

"Didn't actually tell a lie," she explained, as the dice rolled.

"Oh geez, my persuasion is crap," Ana was muttering, looking up to add, "Nine."

"The guard looks you up and down, and then over to the dog staring at him, and exchanges a look with his fellow guard. They don't seem to be buying this. I wasn't told we were getting a mabari."

"Must I point out the obvious?" Ana tried again, putting a growl into her voice that made Patrick blink in surprise. "I am a large, impatient man with a war dog. Either let us in, or get someone who will."

"Barkspawn growls in agreement with him," Patrick offered hopefully. "Teeth bared, muscles tensed. Looking like he really wants to rip someone's throat out."

"Uh, all right." Laughing, Erin shook her head. "Roll for intimidation, with advantage, since Barkspawn's helping you."

Again, the dice rolled, and Patrick let out a whoop of triumph as Ana grinned.

"I rolled a four, and a natural twenty, so twenty-six," she declared cheerfully, setting Brian and Toby to praising the roll enthusiastically.

"Well, you are a large, impatient man, fully armed, with a war dog, and these guys just don't get paid enough to deal with things like this," Erin told them. "I can't believe that worked ... They look to each other, and back to you, and step away hurriedly. Uh, all right. You, uh ... go inside, and wait in the room on the right there. We'll, um ... The captain'll come and see you. One of them pushes the door open and hurries inside, and the other gestures for you to follow him, while keeping as far away from the two of you as he possibly can while at the same time trying not to look scared. The one who went ahead of you gestures toward an antechamber to the right side, and hurries off to find the captain, leaving you both alone. What do you do?"

There was a moment of pause.

"Sten really doesn't like being kept waiting," Ana mused, eyeing Patrick thoughtfully. "This is pointless. We should go in fighting."

"Barkspawn barks back in agreement," Patrick answered. "I mean, we're inside now. It can't be that difficult to find the cells, right?"

"Oh my god, are you really going to do that?" Toby asked, incredulous disbelief written all over his smiling face. "You're just going to fight your way through a whole fort?"

"Sure, why not?" Ana shrugged, and looked over at Erin. "I draw my sword, and wait by the door for the captain to come in. When he does, I'm gonna swing at him."

"While Sten goes for his body, I'll pounce his legs and try to knock him prone," Patrick said, picking up his dice.

"All right then."

Erin couldn't quite believe that the admittedly bad plan to talk their way in had suddenly become the worse plan of fighting their way in, but that was D&D. Groping for her character stats sheets, she fumbled for the captain.

"You're left waiting for no more than a few minutes, enough time to get into position by the door, and the captain's footsteps make it very obvious when he's coming. You go as soon as he steps in through the doorway?"

"Yep, the second I see him." Ana rolled her dice, checking her own sheet as Patrick did the same. "Twenty-eight to hit?"

"That hits, roll damage. Patrick?"

"Twenty-five."

"Nice rolls - that hits as well." Erin glanced down at her sheet, rolling her own dice quickly to see if her NPC might be able to avoid either of these. "Actually, Barkspawn, roll a dexterity check for me quick to see if you can get him off his feet."

"Sixteen damage," Ana said, leaning forward hopefully.

"So, as the captain of the guard steps in through the doorway, Sten swings his massive greataxe, and it sinks into the captain's shoulder, crunching through plate armor and pressing chain-mail and cloth into quite a significant wound. Blood spurts out as he yells in pain, the sound echoing down the hallway he came from. Patrick, what did you get?"

"I rolled a seventeen on the dex, and a ... three damage." Patrick threw Brian a dirty look across the table as the other man laughed. "What? I only have teeth and claws!"

"Well, he rolled a four on his saving throw," Erin assured him, "so as Sten rips the axe out of this gaping, bleeding wound in the captain's shoulder, Barkspawn charges toward him, gripping one of his ankles in his vicious teeth and pulling hard. The captain staggers, and falls down hard. He is now prone."

"Do I get an attack of opportunity?" Ana asked hopefully. "Since, you know, he's gone from standing in front of me to lying on the floor."

"Technically ... no," Erin began to say, but she knew better than to force a technical point. What was the point of the game if it wasn’t fun? "But in this instance, why not? Roll another attack, with advantage because he's prone."

"Excellent."

"You're so blood-thirsty," Patrick commented over the sound of the dice rolls. "I love it."

"I'm a large, impatient man with a greataxe," Ana answered cheerfully. "Twenty-six again, and fourteen damage."

"As the guard captain falls, Sten takes another swing with his greataxe, and this time the blade sinks into the man's leg, blood flowing freely from this new wound as he screams in pain again. He's hurting, but he's not dead, and you can hear the sounds of other guards rushing toward the sound of his screams."

"I cast Polymorph on him while he's down," Patrick announced, one finger in the air as he scanned his spell sheet.

"What's the save on that?" Erin picked up her dice to roll.

"Uh, that is ... wait for it, wait for it ..." He peered at his sheet, scanning desperately for the appropriate number. "I really need to organize this - oh! Wisdom, fifteen!"

Erin rolled for the saving throw, and snorted with laughter.

"Natural three," she laughed, shaking her head again. "What are you turning him into?"

"A flea," her brother said firmly.

"Seriously?" Ana looked at him in astonishment. "You know he's just gonna bite you to all hell."

"Yeah, but I'm a dog," he pointed out. "What's another flea?"

To the sound of the laughter rising around the table, Erin tried to get control of the narrative again.

"All right. As the sound of the approaching guards gets louder, Barkspawn channels his druidic magic, and suddenly the guard captain is no longer visible. A moment later, you feel a sharp bite on the inside of your ear."

"I scratch that ear." Patrick grinned.

"Fair enough, okay. But as you look up, you see four more guards heading toward you, swords drawn, ready to fight."

Erin looked at Ana and Patrick with a slightly evil grin.

"Roll for initiative."

[shannaraisles]

A Rose By Any Name - Chapter 8

In which Alistair displays something of a backbone, for possibly the first time in ten years. Banner created by the superb @kagetsukai.

[Read on AO3] OR [Read from the beginning]

Fire and terror, the bulk of the dragon rising above him, screaming that terrible scream through his heart and mind, paralyzing him where he stood. Blood dripped over the planes of his armor, wetting the hand that gripped his sword, soaking into leather and cloth to mingle with the cold sweat of fear. The smell of burning all around him ... the tug of Dem's hand against his shoulder ... pulling at him, whining ...

Wait ... whining? Dem never whines about anything.

Alistair's eyes opened, forcing away the vestiges of the old familiar nightmare to focus on the rumpled pillow pressed into his cheek. His jaw cracked as he yawned, blinking eyes that felt gritty as the tug on his shoulder came again. Not a hand, but a paw ... Lady, his favorite mabari, trying to get his attention as gently as possible.

He raised his arm, rubbing his palm over her blunt head as she whined.

"What's wrong, love? Did you have a nightmare too?"

The look he got in return was about as withering as a dog could manage. Mabari were very smart dogs, and a just woken up Alistair was not very smart at all. He snorted with laughter at her expression, heaving himself off his stomach and onto his side, half-upright, to glance around the room in case of imminent danger.

What he found was what he had woken up to every morning for over ten years - the royal bedchamber of Ferelden. Oh, it had changed in that time, as he had grown comfortable enough to assert his own personality on the space, but there was something still intimidatingly lacking about the rich furnishings and portraits of former kings on the walls. The bed was, admittedly, luxurious; the biggest he'd ever seen, much less slept in, before the crown was placed on his head, and with the new mattress the Inquisitor had recommended he have delivered direct from Antiva City, it was actually comfortable, too. Even in the dark, he knew the place like the back of his hand ... the result of several long nights' study when he'd first been installed here that had included four broken toes, a smashed mirror, and an extremely suspect bruise on his posterior that had made sitting on the throne hell for a week.

No, there didn't seem to be anything amiss. Nothing apart from Lady, who was now pulling the blankets from his legs in a very business-like manner.

"Now what's got into you?" he asked, rubbing a hand through his hair wearily. "There's nothing here, love."

Lady wasn't having it. She heaved herself up to bounce her forepaws against his thigh, springing away to paw at the door, producing that worried whine of hers again as she sniffed the air. Despite himself, Alistair sniffed with her, frowning as he caught the scent of ... nothing. Nothing but the vaguely musty smell of his own sweaty bedsheets, anyway.

Then something else found its way into his conscious mind ... the sound of barking from the kennels outside drawing his eyes to the window, where the faintest suggestion of flickering light seemed to indicate ...

"Maker's blood!"

The palace was on fire.

Alistair sprang from the bed - a move that would have been quite impressive if he hadn't still had one foot caught in the blankets, sending him sprawling over the cold stone face first with a dull smack. Forgetting to reach for even a shirt to cover his bare chest, he scrambled to his bare feet and out through the door, breaking into a run with Lady bounding ahead of him, startling the guards on night watch as they sped past.

"Rouse the household!" he yelled over his shoulder as they made an attempt to look alert. "There's a fire!"

Down the stairs on bare feet that stung with the aching chill of the grey stone beneath them, he rounded the corner on the floor where the ladies had been quartered, coughing in the swirling smoke that had begun to ghost from the open door to the ladies' quarters. Servants were clustered around the door, already organizing a bucket chain of water from the nearest pump to douse the flames; the flash of velvet and silk drew his eye to where Ceridwyn of Kirkwall was dry retching, Callista and Ciara trying to help her calm her hoarse breathing. Delphine was also with them, but she seemed far more concerned about her belongings than anything, certainly not interested in the fact that one of their number had clearly inhaled too much smoke and was suffering for it. Maria caught sight of him, rushing from the knot of ladies to thump against him.

"Mr. Kingness, the princess went back in and she didn't come back out!" she wailed to him, clinging on tight as he automatically hugged her close.

"Why did the princess go back in?" he asked, gently unhooking the child from his waist to crouch before her as the leather buckets bearing water finally made it to the doorway and beyond in the care of guards and servants alike. At his side, Lady was whining, butting at Maria's arm as though worried about the little girl.

"Because, because Lady Leelee and Lady Mandy didn't come out when Ceri got everyone up, and then Ceri got sick, and the soldier men said no one should go back, but the princess did her princess thing and just went, and now she's gone!" Maria was very close to tears, frightened for her favorite friend among the adult women she had been living among for the past week or more.

"Then I will have to do the king thing, won't I?" Alistair assured her. "Lady will stay with you." Rising to his feet, he gestured to the nearest noble. "You, ser ... Bann Ranthenn, isn't it? Please see the ladies settled in temporary quarters on the royal floor. And you there -"

The guard he had called to turned, his sooty face ashen with shock. "Yes, your majesty?"

"Fetch the mage healers to the royal floor," Alistair ordered, surprisingly in his element when it came to mild chaos like this. "And have someone rouse Arl Eamon, Teryn Cousland, and Teryna Mac Tir!" he added, already striding past the elves and humans manhandling buckets through the wide doors to the ladies' quarters, waving a hand before his face to clear some of the smoke out of his way.

"Wait! Your majesty!"

He ignored the voice that called after him, quick to note that the fire seemed to have originated in the one room that had been vacated almost immediately - formerly the room assigned to Lady Marguerite. The hearth should not have been lit in there at all. Was there an assassin somewhere in his palace?

A hand on his bare back made him jump, glancing sharply over his shoulder to find Lady Ciara handing him a wet cloth to place over his mouth and nose. She had one of her own, and a handful of others.

"Lady Ciara, you should not be here," he tried to tell her, muffled through the cool cloth.

"The princess is my friend, your majesty," the shyest of his prospective brides informed him, her gaze as defiant as it could be in the circumstances. "And you may need help to gather the others, too."

"It's just ... there may be flames, and ... well, you're not exactly dressed for ..." he gestured helplessly to her loose nightgown, feeling awful when her flushed cheeks grew darker still in a deep blush.

But to his surprise, shy-as-a-Chantry-mouse Lady Ciara rallied. "Your majesty," she said rather coolly, given the shouting chaos not five feet away from them, "you are barefoot and bare-chested. I rather think you are the one not dressed."

Alistair goggled at her, suddenly embarrassed at the realization that she was absolutely right. Neither of them was dressed for a rescue, but here they were. Oh, well, nothing for it. He drew himself up as best he could, and nodded to her. "All right, then ... which one is Lady Leona's room?"

The girl before him seemed to grow with his sudden confidence in her, nodding toward the door to his right. "In there," she told him. "Amandine is a little further along - I'll go and check in there."

"Ciara ... be careful."

As she nodded and hurried off to the appropriate room, Alistair found himself reassessing his opinion of the shyest of the bunch. There was a backbone of steel hidden under all those nerves. It was rather attractive, really. Stop admiring her backside and rescue the damsel, you buffoon. He pushed open the door she had indicated, frowning when it seemed to catch on something. With a rather harder shove, he got it open, easing inside to peer around. His bare foot set down on something soft that tried to pull away, making him lurch backward in surprise.

To his horror, he found Lady Leona of Starkhaven stretched out on the floor behind the door. Oh, sweet Andraste, I hit her with the door. And trod on her! Cringing at his own clumsiness, he knelt swiftly, fingers seeking her throat to make certain she was only unconscious and not dead. The last thing he needed was dead visitors to his court. She moaned softly as he found her pulse, unaware of the deep sigh of relief that rose from his chest at this sign of life. With little trouble, he lifted her slight form into his arms, kicking the door open with his foot to step out into the smoky corridor.

There, he found Ciara supporting Amandine in a slow shuffle toward the relative safety of the main stairs. The lady from Tantervale was pallid, wheezing with every step, but at least she was still upright. She raised a hand, gesturing back along the passage.

"Fe ... Felicita ..."

Alistair felt something in his chest contract painfully. "Where is she?" he demanded, harsher than he had intended to be.

Amandine swallowed, wheezing harder as she tried to draw the words together, but Ciara answered him. "We couldn't rouse her," she told him worriedly. "She's in Amandine's room - we left the door open."

Later, Alistair couldn't have said why he reacted the way he did; why the panic that gripped him at the thought of the princess left unconscious in the smoky halls was quite so sharp. He could justify it with logic - that the death of the Antivan princess in Ferelden while under his protection was a disaster, that no one deserved to be left to suffocate in such a way. But there was no real justification for why he didn't just send someone else to fetch her out.

"You there!" he snapped to the nearest guard, jerking his head to summon him out of the bucket chain. "Take the ladies to safety on the royal floor."

"I ..." The guard didn't manage more than one syllable before Leona was carefully placed in his arms, lolling against his chest. He looked helplessly to the other women, who were already shuffling past the firefighting crew. "Yes, your majesty."

Satisfied, Alistair spun on his heel, ignoring the rug burn on the sole of his foot to run back along the passageway, seeking that open door. Come on, come on ... they left the door open, she's got to be in one of these rooms ... Ah! He skidded to a halt next to the door that stood open, ducking inside to look around wildly.

"Fabs?"

There was Felicita, sprawled half on the steps to the bed dais, the loose folds of her white nightgown a stark contrast to the spill of black hair over her shoulder. She wasn't moving, and for a moment, his panic deepened at the thought that there was no breath in her, either. He all but tripped over his own feet to reach her, falling painfully to his knees on bare stone, brushing her braid out of his way to smooth his fingers over her bare shoulder to her throat. Please, he found himself praying. Please don't be ... The flood of relief at the sensation of blood pulsing beneath his fingers made him almost laugh, drawing an ill-advised breath too deep. Coughing, he grabbed the blanket from the bed, gently wrapping her in the soft folds to lift her up into his arms. Her head lolled onto his shoulder, fingers grasping weakly at the blanket he had cocooned her in, but she was alive. And she would soon be safe.

Well, as safe as she could be. Alistair could feel himself frowning as he hurried through the lingering smoke toward the open landing. The fire was out, but who had set it? What had been the purpose of setting it? Did he have an assassin in his palace? They were troubling questions, made more so when he realized that not all the ladies had been recovered from their assigned quarters.

A harried-looking guard captain found him as he stepped out of the thick smoke. "Your majesty, the fire is out," he began, but Alistair was ahead of him.

"Where is Lady Rosamunde?" he demanded, already moving to the stairs that lead back up to the royal floor.

"Uh ... she was not in the ladies' quarters, your majesty ..."

"Find her," Alistair snapped over his shoulder. "Search the palace immediately!"

"Yes, ser!"

Mounting the steps, he was not surprised to find the usually deserted hallways of the royal floor bustling with people - servants tending to the ladies who had experienced such a dreadful awakening, mages applying their healing magics, a plethora of guards standing at each entry-way. Cormac, his personal secretary, was waiting for him by one of the open doors.

"This way, your majesty," the man called, gesturing for him to come inside and deliver his precious cargo to comfort and safety.

It took a moment to realize that this was the official Queen's Apartment, but at the moment, the location really didn't matter to Alistair at all. With a nod to the mage waiting to tend to the princess, he moved to the bed, careful to lay Felicita down as gently as he could. She coughed softly, a grimace on her face at the pain that must have caused her, and for a moment, Alistair felt a novel sense of reluctance to leave her side. He hesitated, his hand curled into hers as the mage stepped forward, hands already a-glow to heal the damage caused by her foolish bravery.

As he watched, she stirred, the sweet dimple in her left cheek showing itself with the motion of her mouth. A moment later, she rolled onto her side toward him, coughing as the healing magic forced the smoke damage from her lungs, allowing her to take a comfortable breath once again. Alistair felt one of the many knots of tension he was carrying relax and unravel as her fingers tightened on his, as those remarkable hazel-brown eyes of hers opened to focus on him. She opened her mouth, but he stilled whatever she had been about to say with a shake of his head.

"No more heroics, princess," he heard himself say sternly. "You are far more precious than you seem to realize."

Surprise showed itself in her gaze, in the softly pleased curve of her smile as she relaxed onto her back. Alistair could feel his own mouth curving in answer to that smile, reluctantly releasing her hand.

"Principessa, I ... oh, your majesty!"

Tearing his gaze from the beautiful smile before him, Alistair found the Antivan ambassador in the doorway, black brows drawn close together in concern beneath the stunning disarray of his white hair. The man looked as though he had been roused from his bed and run straight to the main palace, clearly filled with deep concern for the well-being of his charge.

"Don Carmello," he greeted the man, straightening from his crouch beside the bed. "The princess is safe; she has been tended by a mage. She will be remaining here with the other ladies under close guard, until I discover precisely what has happened here. I am sure a bed can be made up for you in the adjoining room if you wish to remain nearby."

Carmello hesitated, glancing between the king and Felicita uncertainly. "Ah ... thank you, your majesty," he offered in answer, belatedly bowing to the monarch in their midst.

Alistair nodded to him, glancing down just once more to be certain Felicita was awake and unharmed before he strode to the door himself, meeting Cormac in the busy hallway. The secretary handed him a shirt and robe, both of which he was quick to pull on. As warming as the exertion had been, it was still chilly in the palace after dark, even at the height of summer.

"Do all these people need to be here?" he asked, impatient with the sheer numbers crowding around him. "Dismiss everyone who does not have a reason to be on this floor. Oh, but keep the guard complement high. Where's Dem?"

As Cormac opened his mouth to answer, the familiar sound of his friend's voice intruded.

"She's here. And so is your missing lady."

Alistair turned, surprised by the anger in Demelza's voice, to find his diminutive best friend pushing a decidedly undressed Rosamunde into one of the empty bedchambers with a sharp warning to stay put or suffer consequences. And perhaps more surprising was the lack of protest from the lady herself. The elven Warden turned back to Alistair.

"The Orlesian ambassador has been placed under guard," she informed him, quiet but harsh. "They were in bed together. Naked."

Alistair's mouth dropped open. Of all the things he might have expected to hear, that had not been on the list. His eyes slipped toward the door behind which she had just incarcerated Rosamunde of Gwaren. With the Orlesian ambassador? But why was Eamon ... His thought trailed off before it could finish, long-banked resentment suddenly flaring in his temper.Someone had been trying to manipulate him again, and this time he knew exactly who to blame.

"You found them together?" he asked Demelza, as around them, everyone who was superfluous was ushered firmly out of the royal quarters. "You'd swear to it?"

"I did, and I would," she confirmed. "And I wasn't the only one. It's going to be all over the palace by morning, and the city by midday."

Alistair held her gaze for a long moment, his mind racing. "Cormac."

The secretary pushed to his side quickly. "Majesty?"

"Please bring Teryn Cousland, Teryna Mac Tir, and Arl Eamon to my private study," Alistair asked him, feeling the muscle in his left jaw twitching at the effort of staying calm. "As quickly as possible, if you would."

"Of course, your majesty." Cormac bowed and hurried off, leaving the king and the Warden alone.

Dem eyed Alistair warily. "What are you planning?" she asked, only a hint of suspicion in her tone.

"I plan on being the king for once," he told her. "You'll come, won't you?"

"You really think I'm going to miss this?" she countered. "Monster's in with Lady Ceri - she apparently got a mouthful of sparks when she investigated the fire initially, that's why she was worst affected."

"But she's well now?" Alistair asked, turning to make his way toward the private study with his friend at his side. He liked Ceri, enjoying her blunt wit and bald humor, and - as much as this should not have happened - it would be a good excuse to increase the time Fergus spent around the redhead in the days and weeks to come.

"She's been healed," Dem assured him. "Sleeping now, I'm told. I set Monster to guard her, just in case."

"Oh."

Alistair pulled up short for a moment, glancing back along the corridor. Should I set Lady to guard the princess? he wondered. But Maria won't be long in joining Fabs, I'm sure, and Lady is guarding her. I'll check, once this is done. Just coming to that decision relaxed the new flare of worry that had spiked through his mind. He'd check on all of them, of course, but ... No, it's only been ten days. Far too soon, you ridiculous ...

"Alistair?"

He jerked out of his thoughts visibly, eyes snapping to meet Dem's faintly amused gaze. "What?"

Demelza smirked at him. "You drifted off for a second there, Longshanks," she told him. "Happy thoughts of pretty eyes again?"

"I didn't ... I wasn't ..."

He frowned as his best friend laughed, patting his shoulder. "You should definitely do that flustered thing around them," she suggested. "It's adorable."

"I'm not adorable, I'm ..."

But Dem was already pushing into his study, leaving Alistair to trail after her, grumbling about being teased when he was having a bad enough night as it was. Cormac followed them, quick to deliver the timeline of the evening as he had ascertained it from the ladies now beginning to settle once again for the night. Felicita had roused first, it seemed, and Ceri not long after, both women working together to rouse their companions and remove them from immediate danger. Ceri had attempted to fight the fire herself, and inhaled sparks that had almost overwhelmed her, resulting in her retching as Alistair found them.

It wasn't long before the three requested nobles were entering to join them there - just long enough for Dem to bring Alistair up to speed on what exactly she had seen when she'd discovered Rosamunde in the ambassadorial quarters. No matter what excuse the woman came up with, there was very little she would be able to do to recover her reputation once that became common knowledge. Eamon was already scowling as he entered, decidedly unhappy about being roused from his bed in the early hours before dawn; Fergus was fully dressed and armed; Anora was clearly still in her nightgown beneath her robe, but presented a calm face to the king as she curtsied.

"What is all this about, Alistair?" Eamon demanded, blanching as the door closed behind him to the tune of Demelza clearing her throat pointedly. "Your majesty, I mean."

Leaning on his desk, Alistair sighed, inwardly bracing himself as he considered the three most powerful people in his country. His uncle, who didn't actually seem to like him all that much; a close friend, who had his own problems; and his former sister-in-law, who up until the last week hadn't spent more than two days at court together in his entire reign.

"A little over an hour ago, a fire broke out in the quarters assigned to our visiting dignitaries," he informed them, though it seemed as though Fergus, at least, already knew some of it. "Lady Ceridwyn, Lady Leona, Lady Amandine, and Princess Felicita sustained injury, though all have now been seen by the mages and declared fit. Fergus, I'd like you to bring in your personal guard to serve as bodyguards to the ladies for the rest of the month. If there is an assassin attempting to cause harm to our visitors, I trust that you and your men will prevent further trouble arising."

"Of course, your majesty." Fergus nodded sharply, about to turn away when Alistair held up a hand.

"No, stay. I need ... I've asked you all here because I would like your input on a decision that must now be made." Alistair hesitated, glancing past them to Demelza. "Warden-Commander?"

Dem caught on to his reluctance to present what he knew, stepping to the desk to face the trio of nobles. "One of the ladies was not present in her assigned quarters when the fire broke out," she informed them tersely. "Lady Rosamunde was located in the Orlesian ambassador's bed, performing an enthusiastically carnal act. Setting aside the fact that she is clearly unsuitable to be queen, I was not alone when I discovered her. The gossip will be all over the city by sunset tomorrow."

"Don't be ridiculous," Eamon scoffed. "A lady of her standing would never -"

Dem hissed at him. "Are you calling me a liar, Arl Eamon?"

"I do not see that there is any decision to be made here," Anora interjected smoothly, averting the possibility of bloodshed at the sight of Demelza's hands moving to flex on her dagger hilts in the face of Eamon's idiotic rudeness. "Rosamunde has disgraced herself. She should be turned out of the palace immediately, and the Orlesian ambassador sent back to Orlais forthwith."

Alistair blinked, surprised but somehow heartened by this decidedly sensible advice from a woman he had thought would be only too pleased to see him humiliated by one of the women he was supposed to be choosing to be his wife.

"I agree with Lady Anora," Fergus added. "Even if it were possible, this isn't something that should be hushed up. She's tried to make a fool of the king, to make you a cuckold before marriage was even presented. Her reputation is nothing compared with yours, Alistair."

"Let us not be hasty," Eamon said, holding up his hands. "Where is the proof? The word of a single Grey Warden, hero though she be, and a few servants is hardly enough to condemn a fine lady and destroy her reputation. Place a close guard on her to police her behavior, but there is no need to send her away."

"No need?" Anora sounded shocked. "And suppose the king were to ask her to be his wife, how long do you suppose this tale would remain a secret? Within a year, all the courts of Thedas would know that the Queen of Ferelden is a brazen whore with no regard for the dignity of her own husband!"

"By all means, expel the Orlesian ambassador," Eamon went on, ignoring Anora pointedly. "Such expulsions happen so often as to be rarely commented upon. But Rosamunde -"

"- has behaved abominably, and should be punished for her actions," Anora finished for him. "I apologize that I ever offered my voice to support her claim, Alistair. She cannot be allowed to remain in the capital. She cannot be rewarded with continued favor after such a public indiscretion!"

"Again, the word of a single Grey Warden is hardly -"

"Hardly what, Arl Eamon?" Anora interrupted in a fierce tone. "Are you daring to suggest that the woman who ended the Blight, who saved your life against seemingly impossible odds, is somehow not to be trusted with the protection and well being of her friend, the king?"

Alistair felt his mouth fall open for the second time that night, his gaze dragged inexorably toward Demelza. He knew Anora and Dem could not stand to be more than five minutes in each other's company, and yet Anora was speaking on behalf of the elven Warden without even a slight prompt from anyone else in the room. Dem was watching the escalating argument in front of her with interest, the only sign of her surprise the height of her brows. Was this what Eamon had meant all those years ago, when he had described Anora as "spirited"? Had he really been referring to her intelligent ability to defend a sensible suggestion against an idiotic one?

"... listen here, Anora, you are hardly in a position to comment on what is right," Eamon was saying. "As the child of an executed traitor, you have no voice when it comes to scandal -"

"As the man who forced the hand of the law in arranging the circumstances of that execution, Eamon, you have no authority to speak, either," Fergus said sharply, earning himself a deathly glare from the older man.

"Enough!"

Four pairs of eyes turned toward Alistair in surprise. It took a moment for him to realize that he was the one who had spoken, annoyed by the descent into old arguments lead by a man he was increasingly coming to see as more of a burden than an aid in his leadership of the country. For the briefest moment, he felt panic rising at the realization that he had just told them to shut up, panic that was just as quickly squashed by the proud look in Demelza's eyes when he glanced at her. You're the king, aren't you? Be the king for once.

"Uncle, Anora's reaction is exactly as it should be," he said firmly. "I will be having Lady Rosamunde returned to Gwaren in the morning, and the Orlesian ambassador will be returning to Orlais with notes of reproof."

"I refuse to be a party to this," Eamon began to bluster, but Anora interrupted him once again.

"I do not believe the king was asking for your permission, Arl Eamon," she pointed out. If Alistair didn't know better, he could have sworn she was enjoying this. But then ... she might be, he realized. How long is it, exactly, since she was asked for her advice honestly? "I believe the king was stating the action he intends to take. Or do you have some objection to the protection of the crown's reputation? Some other reason to want to keep Lady Rosamunde close, perhaps?"

The implication was blindingly obvious. After all, if Rosamunde was sleeping with ambassadors, was it really such a leap to imagine her sharing the bed of the man who was touted as having the most influence over the king himself? Eamon's response was spluttering incoherence ... but Alistair's eyes narrowed as he watched. There was something there, something hidden but strong enough to make Eamon speak for this poorly behaved wench of a lady.

"Fergus, you will see to the increased security arrangements," he said, choosing not to let Eamon explode for once. "Anora ... as awkward as it is to ask you, Rosamunde is a representative of your region. Would you see to the arrangements for her removal?"

Anora nodded to him graciously. "With relish, your majesty," she assured him. "She will not be in Denerim a moment longer than is absolutely necessary."

"Thank you." Alistair looked to Eamon. "Do you have anything to add, my lord?"

"You cannot do this, Alistair," the arl protested. "Think of the gossip -"

"I am the king, uncle, something you seem to have forgotten in recent years," Alistair told him coldly. "Whatever it is Lady Rosamunde is holding over your head that induces you to defend her indefensible actions, it is your own affair. You will not force me into foolish decisions, or into offending the other ladies you invited to Ferelden in the first place. That will be all."

"Now you listen to me, you little -"

There was a silken sound as Dem drew one of her daggers, testing the edge pointedly with her thumb as Eamon's horrified eyes met hers. "I believe the king dismissed you, Arl Eamon. Would you like help finding your quarters?"

Alistair knew his best friend well enough to spot that she wanted to have a word with Eamon herself. It wasn't generally a good idea to turn Dem loose on the nobility, but his uncle had pushed a little too hard tonight. Tired as he was from his unexpectedly exciting waking, Alistair wasn't interested in sparing Eamon's feelings for once.

"That's a good idea," he said. "Dem, why don't you escort the arl back to his rooms? If there is an assassin on the loose, it is best to make sure the court is protected."

"Very wise," Fergus agreed. "Lady Anora, shall we?"

Backed into a corner, Eamon had little choice but to be ushered out through the door with Demelza at his back, both of them followed by the teryn and teryna. Alistair waited until the door was closed ... and sank down onto his seat, acutely aware that his limbs were shaking.

He had never stood up to Eamon like that, never seen his uncle reduced to incoherence by the eloquent implications of a true politician. No wonder the man had been so happy when Anora resigned her seat on the council all those years ago; she could talk him into a corner within minutes. Alistair had a sudden vision of years of council sessions that could have gone so much better if he'd just had Anora there to make Eamon shut up. What a missed opportunity. But one he could rectify. She clearly wasn't holding anything against him, not if her fierce defense of his decision was anything to go by. And her advice had been the right advice, despite the fact that Rosamunde's dismissal from court could reflect badly on her. Perhaps there was something to be said for so-called "spirited" women in power.

For some reason, his mind conjured the image of hazel-brown eyes and a soft smile at that thought, the memory of unnecessary bravery that could have ended so terribly for everyone. Not only her bravery, of course ... but it was her face he recalled most clearly from the panic that had filled the air. Now why her in particular, he wondered vaguely, willing his hands to stop their shaking as he breathed deep.

Smoke still hung in the air, the smell of it impregnating the linen shorts he had been sleeping in, and would linger for days yet, he knew. But right now, the fire didn't seem to matter so much. Not as much as gentle fingers squeezing his own as she stirred back to life under his eyes.

Alistair felt a grin rise on his face. Another name struck off the list, thirty more days in which to make a decision. Perhaps, despite the sudden drama, this marriage idea wasn't such a bad one, after all.