A/N: Wow, thanks to the whole *3* (haha) people who reviewed the last chapter. You guys rock! And all the people who favourited or put me on Story Alert (about 15 or 16) you rock also! I hope you'll pluck up the courage to review this time. Don't be shy! If you squint, there will be a (*drumroll*) KOTOR II quote! So, keep your eyes peeled for that. Thanks for doing whatever you did with the last chapter. If my calculations are correct there will be two more chapters. Or three if I'm really that boring. Oh, oh and look out for some kind of Back to the Future reference. Boy do I love those movies!

Chapter Two
"You're everything that I want and ask for,

You're all that I'd dreamed.

Who wouldn't be the one you love?

Who wouldn't stand inside your love?

Protected and the lover,
Of a pure soul and beautiful you.
Don't understand,

Don't feel me now.

I will breathe for the both of us."
~ Stand Inside Your Love - The Smashing Pumpkins.

The road to Denerim was longer than Alistair remembered. It was very different to be travelling it not shielded by his usual chainmail. It made him feel exposed to the chilly night air. Hearing Trija and Zevran chatting and laughing together was making his skin crawl and his stomach knot around itself. Alistair didn't like it at all, so he concentrated his gaze on passing bushes and trees.

"Let's just hope we don't run in to bandits." He heard Zevran chuckle. Turning around to reply smartly, Alistair was stopped by Trija.
"Bandits? We'd have to run as fast as possible. That would look really good, wouldn't it? The only people able to save Ferelden, running away from a couple of bandits. Two of them Grey Wardens, as well." Trija replied.
"Ah yes. But I'm sure we will think of something." Zevran shrugged.
"Then we'll just have to bamboozle them!" Alistair joked, pausing for a moment. "'You want my money, bandit? But what is the opposite of opposite? Consider yourself bamboozled!'"
Trija snorted in a most unlady-like way at this, yet Zevran did not seem impressed. Alistair found himself laughing at the way she laughed.
"What an adorable laugh!"
"Oh no, I-I hate my laugh!" She said, snorting harder and shivering in the bitter winds at the same time. Not even a moment after this, Zevran turned his head down to take a look at Trija. She smiled warmly up at him, still trying not to shiver. Alistair's stomach twisted around itself again.
"Are you cold, my dear?" The male elf beamed down at her as she nodded, and without hesitation, placed a warm arm around her shoulders. Trija stopped for a second, but smiled appreciatively at him. Seeing Zevran wink back made Alistair's stomach twist into knots again. Focusing again on the bushes and trees, Alistair willed the road to end soon and for Denerim to come into sight.

"So were are we actually going this time? As I recall The Gilded Dildo isn't in Denerim." Trija asked. Zevran chuckled.
"No, there aren't many taverns in Denerim. A little place my old friends used to take me; The Gnawed Noble."
"Oh, yes; that's a great place to go," Alistair scoffed. "Full of mercenaries and low-lifes."
"A-ha, if you dare to go in the back rooms, you mean." Zevran winked. Trija piped up
"Anyway, I think it's best that we do go somewhere...fairly normal. Obviously, being the good little elf that I am, I have absolutely no idea where Denerim's taverns may or may not be. So lead on, Zevran!"

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Alistair thought that when they got there the tavern would be closed, but it wasn't. The small building seemed to be the only source of noise in the quiet city. Seeming to have escaped from Zevran, Trija placed her hand on the door and turned to look at her companions.
"Ready," she grinned. "...Or not?" Pushing the door open, it seemed like a cloud of smoke escaped from the tavern. Clearing his throat and cutting in front of Zevran so that he wasn't last inside, Alistair said,
"Now let's not try to make any trouble." Looking pointedly at Trija as she stepped inside.
"What?! Trouble? Me?" She said, mimicking shock. "I've never even heard of such a thing, Wonderboy. Trouble in a tavern! What would my father say?"

All three of them were inside now. Alistair took in the tavern. It was in the typical style of a tavern; smoky, with the sharp smell of mead and wine stinging his nostrils, the rooms decorated with friendly colours that would not be so harsh on drunken eyes. Trija was already heading for the bartender.
"Wait, where are you going?" Alistair asked. He mentally slapped himself.
"For a drink! You know....glug glug." She mimed drinking.
"Er-I know. I'll go sit down then."
Trija rolled her eyes but still grinned at him. Oh great, Alistair thought, awkward silence with Zevran. Yet again.

* * *
Trija was thrilled that she had managed to sneak out of the camp with Alistair without anyone noticing. Well....Zevran had spotted them, but it could have been much worse. Wynne could have caught them as she was on a late-night stroll, it would look like they were sneaking out like rebellious teenagers. Laughing to herself, Trija placed her arms on the bar. The smell of mead was thicker here and a few "midnight men", as her father used to call them, were attempting to keep upright nearby. One tipsy man seemed to notice her.

"I know you.." He slurred, pointing a quivering finger at her. Trija cursed under her breath. Recognised so quickly.
"Yes," she sighed. "Grey Warden, elf, blah de blah. I'm off duty now, so if you don't-"
"No, not that one. You're were from th' Alienage. I remember you. Killed Vaughan." He seemed to find this hilarious, letting out a roaring laugh. Trija quickly ordered three pints of mead and tried to ignore the drunk.
"No, no, lissen, he wasn't a bad man." Trija narrowed her eyes.
"'Wasn't a bad man'?!" She repeated incredulously. "You don't even know part of the story. I'll have you know he raped my cousin." Breathing a sigh of relief when her drinks arrived, Trija picked them up in her hands. The man laughed his roaring laugh again, shaking his head wildly.
"Prolly deserve it, ya know. Silly knife-ear. Wha' she doin' in a castle anyway? Washin' some dishes I hope.." He hiccupped loudly. Trija shook her head. This was nothing new from humans. Trija turned to walk back to her friends. She was not easily aggravated.
"Go on, elfy. Run awaaay. That the problem?" Trija gritted her teeth together and took a step away. "You a little chicken? Nothin' but a little chicken."
Trija stopped in her tracks, turning her head slowly.
"Did you just call me a chicken?" She asked dangerously. The man hiccupped again.
"I did!" He followed this with a series of clucking noises. Placing her drinks on the nearest table, Trija turned around to face him.
"No one....calls me a chicken."

"Trija!" A voice was calling her. It was Alistair. He was sitting at a table with Zevran. Both seemed equally annoyed. "Got the drinks yet?" Trija seemed to be back in reality. She quickly picked up the cold drinks in her sweating palms, replying quickly.
"Er, yes, I'll be right there!" She shot one last evil look at the drunken man, but it seemed he was already ordering his next pint.

Getting to the table and placing the pints down, Trija shuddered. She sat down heavily in her seat.
"No trouble, remember?" Alistair murmured with concerned eyes, taking a sip of mead. Trija grumbled back, relaxing into her chair.
"Yeah, I remember."

* * *
It was now many drinks later. Nearly all patrons were gone, except themselves. Zevran was no longer sitting with them, probably drawn to the bar by a pretty face. Trija was spectacularily drunk. She was struggling to stay upright in her chair. Alistair had not had much to drink so far and felt only slightly light-headed. He decided he was going to be the responsible one tonight. He watched Trija swaying in her seat, and he had to stifle a laugh, resulting in a snort.
"You okay?" He asked her.
"Of course I am!" She slurred, grinning an exaggerated grin.
"You know, you haven't really had that much to d-"
"Hey, do you know how many times I got drunk in the Alienage?" She pointed a finger at him, and the held it up. "Once! And that was at someone's wedding. Could have been mine, who knows?" She shrugged drunkenly and reached out for more mead. Alistair raised an eyebrow but remembered what she had said once about her arranged marriage. He moved the mead out of her reach.
"Aaand I think you've had enough for tonight." Trija gasped and tried to retrieve it. Alistair quickly downed it.
"Hah!" Trija crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "No more, you're drunk enough."
"Drunk? Me?! I...I am perfectly sober." She let her head fall onto the table. "Stupid pretty boy."

To be continued...
I'm sure we've all had nights like this...I'm sure we'll be getting more drunk in the next chapter. Where the heck has Zevran gotten to? Next chapter will be fun. Last chapter will be fluffy. Sorry for some mistakes, they're unchecked.