This fic was inspired by a Les Mis parody with Valjean and Javert changing places for a day to allow hilarity to ensue. Needless to say, I adored it and the premise occurred to me when I thought of doing a short Alistair piece. As everyone and their dog knows, Alistair has quite the female following among DA fans and most fics on this site are about him and the female Warden. With all these random women throwing themselves at him, the least he deserves is to get a chance to have an opinion about this, no?

This is a fic-on-a-whim; I wasn't going to post it, but most of the dialogue just kind of wrote itself and then it seemed too much of a shame to leave it behind. Under ten chapters max and I intend to cover all the origins – including both the human and elven mage – so this should be quite a wild ride. Also, just to assuage anyone's fears: no matter what I might put him through, I like Alistair as a character very much; kudos to David Gaider and Steve Valentine for really making him come to life.

Just a note: I picked the names of the Wardens to be entirely too long (a Mary Sue standard) and meaningful – google them if you like, they should be fitting.

Apologies if you don't get too many chuckles out of it, but I really enjoyed writing this stuff.

o.O.o

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

o.O.o

If there was one annoying part of warfare, it was all the waiting.

Not to be taken wrongly, Alistair adored the chance to finally be out in the open air, without a hawk-nosed Chantry sister tracking his every move, but even freedom got a little tedious after a while. Especially when the others were engaged in all sorts of activities and he, being the junior Warden, just didn't have the same authority with the normal soldiers to prove his mettle.

Or Duncan just didn't want the officers to start noticing how much that random unimportant nameless Warden resembled their king. Though Alistair could admit, it was an almost laughable comparison – as if he'd ever braid his hair like that. There were some men on whom that kind of thing looked imposing – after meeting Loghain Mac Tyr in person for the first time, Alistair could easily testify that not even a bright pink bow would have made the man less intimidating. Some insisted on doing it out of fancy and, well…

Given how shiny the king's armor was, combined with this fact, Alistair was forced to wonder if there weren't other reasons to the lack of a royal heir besides the queen's supposed barren-ness.

Moving swiftly on from that topic.

Not that he was expecting excitement at every turn, but with Duncan away, there was only so much he could do. There weren't too many Wardens around and Alistair didn't know them all too well, which meant that any pleasant conversation was scarce.

Which was why when he encountered a squirrel that was muttering to itself, Alistair thought his cheese-deprived imagination had simply gone a little overboard.

However, when he kept looking at it, waiting for the sight to vanish after blinking, the squirrel spotted him, went very still and obviously ceased being a figment of his imagination. It also had red, glowing eyes.

When the squirrel cleared its throat and tried to assume a semi-dignified pose, Alistair knew it was trouble.

"Grey Warden Alistair?" it asked, not squeakily enough for a proper squirrel.

At times when he was absolutely speechless, Alistair's brain tended to go on autopilot; which wasn't always a good thing. "Ah, yes?" he asked, rather shakily.

It was a talking squirrel. And it knew him. And, apparently, it was very quickly trying to reorganize its plans on how this scenario should have played out.

"I'm- ah - your fairy godmother!" the being improvised quickly. Out of nowhere, there was a small shower of sparkles, which would have utterly convinced Cailan, at least, and succeeded in confusing Alistair. The squirrel smiled brilliantly, though it looked quite forced, and internally cursed her lack of research into Fereldan fairy tales. "I have come here to grant you a single wish for your acts of goodness!"

Alistair blinked, actually considering the idea. After all, the tales of griffons had been true…

"Really? But… I haven't done anything yet, really." Then, he remembered the first thing all templars were taught; the mage you are attracted to based on your sexual preference might be cute, but if they start acting overly friendly, heads up. Take special care if their clothing becomes a) skin-tight or b) too shiny. "Hey, wait a minute… I'm not a mage, so you might as well try your tricks on someone else, demon!"

The apparition sighed, looking at the sword raised to her face with chagrin.

"So much for the easy way. And here they said he was a harmless idiot…" she muttered to herself, making the sparkles vanish.

Alistair didn't lower the sword even when the spirit once again resembled a normal squirrel. "I don't care who they are, but I'll show you harmless if you don't tell me exactly what in the Maker's name you are!"

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Rolling went the squirrel's red-glowing eyes, but she thought she might as well spill the beans. She had to do so anyway, she guessed, to make this safe. "I'm a Fade spirit temporarily possessing this form to gain access to your world. This thing requires concentration, so be a good little human and stop gawking like an idiot."

"I doubt it would be as exhausting to send you back where you came from." Still, the squirrel wasn't yet laughing maniacally – did it have the vocal chords to do that? – and appeared to want to talk, not chew on his corpse. So Alistair decided to give it the benefit of doubt. "Now tell me what you want before I give it a shot."

The squirrel gave a resigned sigh, as if to say she surrendered. "Sure, whatever." Man, if he were this eager to give other things a shot, writing that one chapter would be a cakeball. "Anyway, I represent an independent group of spirits capable of seeing the future. Long story short, we're interesting in writing a book about the upcoming Blight." she summed up, looking as business-like as a squirrel reasonably could.

Once he got over the immense weirdness of the situation, Alistair actually perked up. This was interesting – he didn't know Fade spirits had a market for war novels! Come to think of it, he didn't know anything about Fade spirits writing books.

Not that it deterred his enthusiasm.

"Really?" A nod. "Wow! Am I in it?" he asked, eagerly now.

The squirrel managed a diplomatically indulging smile. "I wouldn't be wasting time here if you weren't."

"Is Duncan in it?" Alistair asked after a moment, keen on the idea. If anyone was going to stop the Blight, Duncan had to be it.

The squirrel felt a small drop of sweat tingling down her temple, but swallowed any possible remark about that. It was time to use what fortune tellers such as she scientifically termed a Jedi Truth. "Um, yeah, of course! In fact, two books already published had him in it!" she added with a cough-like laugh, hoping he wouldn't ask anything too specific. "Fun stuff…"

"Could I have a look?"

"Sorry, copyright of the Fade." There was that, of course, not that Alistair likely knew what it meant. "But, anyway, back to my reason for being here. The thing is, you being a major character-"

"Why me?"

The squirrel blinked, her train of thought broken. "Huh?"

Alistair flushed just a little, but continued his question. "I mean, I like the idea, but I'm just one Warden…"

"And the son of Maric Theirin, yeah."

The redness didn't fade, mild frown aside. "Even Fade spirits know about that?" he asked glumly, uncertain what to think about it.

"Let's say we're well informed." the squirrel suggested. It was difficult to imagine the story without Alistair in it, though, so she had obviously made a miscalculation there. "Anyway, you're not the main character, don't worry about that."

"Phew, that's a weight off my shoulders."

"Can you shut up and listen?" Alistair did, biting back any childish reply. Things were actually getting interesting. "Okay. The thing is, we're not yet decided on who another major character in the story should be. We've got six candidates lined up, but haven't yet reached consensus."

And he was supposed to help decide? "I guess I'll need a bit more information if I'm to help you with that." At least then, he could blame it on her if he chose wrong. But wait, six candidates?

The squirrel anticipated that question. "You know that Duncan is off to find one more recruit before diverting to Ostagar? That recruit is going to be teamed up with you for a while. Also, our intention is to pair you two up." She sped up a bit at that last part.

Alistair looked rather confused. "But I thought you said that we're already paired up in the…"

"Eh, have you two be involved romantically."

"Rom- what?" The spirit cringed, which was a most peculiar sight. While Alistair wasn't regal or kingly at this point (and might not eventually end up that way), there was some trace of a commanding personality in him. And it tended to surface at the worst times. "We're almost certainly in the middle of a Blight here; there's no time to waste with personal involvements!"

But but but! The spirit tried to reformulate her thoughts and construct an argument that wouldn't contain the phrase you'll have it once Duncan kicks the bucket. After all, the slash writers would have a field day if that particular event ended up differently. "They're young, preternaturally pretty, supremely skilled with their weapons and liable to fall in love with you."

"I'm a Grey Warden; I can't forget about my duty!" Still, the words love and family did have meaning to Alistair. The Grey Wardens were family, in a way, but it was different…

"Fine, fine. Let me put it like this. You go through with this for me and I'll tell you a bit about the future. Nothing important to the general scheme of things, like how the Blight can be stopped or what happens at a specific point of time, though."

Any kind of information about the future was tempting, but Alistair had several questions first. Were these candidates female? Because he'd had a joke like that played on him by the other Grey Wardens, and it hadn't been funny. Seriously not. The spirit chortled, blushed under her fur, but replied that they were indeed all women.

"This won't be painful or otherwise harmful, right? I mean… won't it be wrong for the timeline if I know who survives the Joining?"

"Oh, no worries about that." The spirit had a plan for that part, too. "Once we're done deciding here, you won't remember me or your encounter with the lovely ladies any more than a very peculiar dream. We're aiming for realism here, after all."

"And these women… any one of them could end up in love with me? That seems a little… convenient."

"Seeing as only one of them is going to get recruited, that hardly matters, so you don't have to be too worried about that. The bottom line is, yep, any one of them could end up being that one special lady. If you play your cards right, of course, Romeo." the squirrel winked, almost laughing again at how confused he looked.

"Ro-what?"

"Never mind that." Getting down to business once again, the squirrel produced a small ring with a bright red gemstone, doubling as a button. "Here, put this on and don't lose it."

Now was the moment when the Grey Warden swallowed uncertainly and looked ready to back away. "I-I'm flattered, but it's a little too soon-"

"No, silly boy, that's the McGuffin Ring. It'll transport you from one reality to another – meaning from one candidate to another."

"So I gather this isn't going to be a nice cheese dinner and conversation with one at a time?" Alistair asked dejectedly, taking the object. It wasn't overly masculine or feminine – just enough to make it relatively within the realm of taste and visible.

"Where would the fun in that be? Besides, we need to see how well you work with these girls. It's likely the dimension will start in medias res – meaning once you get there, she'll know who you are and why you're together, probably." After all, it was doubtful that Alistair knew any Latin, so she had to explain. Honestly, these Fereldans… "I'm hoping we'll end up with a setting where some spicy dialogue ensues."

"That's a little harsh, playing with people like this." Alistair couldn't resist commenting. He was actually looking forward to this a little, but at the same time, it seemed… frivolous. "I thought Fade spirits had better things to do, like debate the fate of the universe or something."

"Yeah, but after thousands of years, it gets just a little boring, you know? So we spend our time writing stories and reviewing each other's work. It's great fun." the squirrel assured him when he looked skeptical. "This is just going to end up a published work, so there's several authors working on the story."

Alistair sighed. Well, there was no harm in doing this, he supposed, seeing as the other Grey Wardens had yet to return and waiting around was boring without cheese. "Very well, then. Do I at least get the names of these… women… or their likenesses? It could get awkward if we end up in a crowd and I'm unable to recognize her."

"Good point." The squirrel tapped her forehead, then smiled. "Tell you what, seeing as I do like you and I had cookies today, I'll let you choose where to go first. Just remember – press the gemstone on the ring once you've had enough to make your judgment and move to the next one. Once you've gotten through all six of 'em, the ring will send you back here and we'll talk."

"So there isn't some kind of safety button here to bring you into the situation?" And Alistair knew he was a master at creating awkward situations that required immediate sinking into the ground.

"Don't worry; I'll be watching and taking notes. Also, I'm pretty sure you can't die in a contrived dimension." Not that any of them would try to kill him, but… well, she was pretty certain.

Six paintings materialized out of thin air near the spirit. It was about as natural as this whole situation, so Alistair wasn't too peeved about it after a moment or two. Besides, he was admittedly curious about these women he was supposed to potentially be… involved with. The pictures of female Grey Wardens had given him a bit of confidence, seeing as they weren't off-putting or older than, say, Duncan. Each of them had been a woman captured at her best, but the images had focused on their skill and prowess rather than physical appearance.

These six portraits seemed to have been crafted to show off the latter, if at all possible. In fact, Alistair was relatively certain he had seen such a procession of portraits brought to Bann Teagan once or twice, when Lady Isolde had felt particularly pushy regarding her brother-in-law's single status. Her Orlesian cousins had been rather like exotic birds; a whirl of color, feathers and screeching high-pitched laughter.

These women were… different. The spirit hadn't been joking; each of them was beautiful in some way. They were actually very diverse racially; three of them were elves, prevalent against two humans and two dwarves. Now there was a surprise; Alistair hadn't seen too many dwarf women. There were surface dwarves around, sure, but…

"Not that the ogling isn't adorable, but I really don't have all day."

Feeling the heat rushing to his cheeks, Alistair focused on the dominant group. Ever since leaving the Chantry, he had discovered that non-human women – elves in particular – were more appealing to him. Perhaps this was because only humans were allowed to join the ranks of the clergy; none of them had been overly nice or open. Moreover, he had known them for years and years. And, of course, elves were far more common on the surface.

The one on the right was easily the most eye-catching, with an ornate bow in her hands and windswept charcoal hair only partly obscuring a rich pattern of spirals adorning her forehead. Alistair hadn't met any Dalish yet, nor had he known that any of them wanted to be Wardens. Moving on, in the center, a waiflike redhead had the odd combination of a flower garland on her head and a sword in plain view. Framing the trio from the left was a blonde reading a thick book, but the nonthreatening image was all but obliterated when Alistair recognized that it wasn't a dress she was wearing.

Right, that made it easy.

"How about we start with her?" Alistair pointed at the redhead, immediately hearing the voice of Arl Eamon chiding him that it was impolite to point at someone so obviously. But somehow, the thought that he might very well be looking at his love drowned out the words. The name Tabris was engraved in the portrait frame, though Alistair wasn't certain if that was her first name or surname.

The spirit grinned from ear to ear, as if she had won money on a very good wager. "City elf it is!" she whooped. "Just remember, press the ring once you know enough about her to move on."

No coercion necessary to make him choose the OTP; how great was that?

"But what about-"

The squirrel, hoping for a good send off, didn't wait for him to finish the question; she hopped on the gemstone, pressing down and making the templar disappear mid-sentence. Well, he knew all that was necessary, so his question couldn't have been overly important anyway. This would go marvelously, the OTP would be decided…

And maybe those protesting to pick four Wardens – one for each love interest – would finally shut up and realize just how much more dramatic potential this angle had.

Maybe she should have mentioned that the rest of the girls would be randomized…

Oh, well. It wasn't like anything bad was going to happen, right?

o.O.o

"Alistair! Alistair!" There was someone shaking him, but maybe waking up would stop it. Alistair decided to try it to get the person to stop and found himself face-to-face with the redheaded elf from the portrait. She wasn't wearing the flowery wreath and her sword was sheathed, but it was most definitely her. She seemed satisfied to have woken him, but frowned deeply nonetheless. "That's it right there; no more of that "special" cheese for you. I told you you'd feel weird."

For his part, Alistair had absolutely no idea how he'd ended up lying on a blanket near a fire with the elf kneeling nearby, nor where they actually were (the camp looked strangely small to fit a whole army, yet there was a rustle of people and voices not too far away), but didn't particularly care.

It had actually worked. So it hadn't been a demon. And – Maker above – that portrait hadn't done her justice at all.

The only bad thing about the whole situation was that Alistair had absolutely no idea how to address her. Tabris… well, he really didn't know. Obviously, they knew each other by now, so asking for her name would be strange and suspicious… and this wasn't helping his slightly dazed state in any way.

"Uh… yes, yes you're right. Bad dreams… definitely of the non-good kind. Do we have anything else left to eat?"

"Yep, got some stew left right here!" She had a bright, chirpy smile and food for him. Alistair was beginning to think that this falling in love business might actually be easy. By the time these thoughts registered, the elf was already handing him a bowl and a spoon. "I thought you'd want to get some eventually!"

"This is… good." Alistair blinked. It wasn't rabbit, but something relatively close to it. He couldn't place it, though; perhaps elven culinary arts were the one thing that had survived the ages? "Tastes a little strange, though."

Tabris shrugged, but seemed to be laughing at a private joke. "The first time is always a little weird. You'll get used to it soon enough. I'll make some more." There was a blur of movement and suddenly, there was a dagger stuck to the nearest tree, with an unfortunate rodent breathing its last.

Impressed but disturbed, Alistair tried his best not to cringe as the elf walked to her prey calmly, unstuck the dagger and proceeded to start chopping the creature with surgical precision. Not even the black leather she wore could distract from that sight.

"Wow… I mean… where did you learn to do… that?"

"Mom was a regular jack of all trades, I told you that." Chop chop chop, went the knife, the elf's hands working dispassionately at the dissection. "She taught me most of my useful skills. Fighting, hunting, poison brewing, picking locks, knitting, belly-dancing, juggling, yoga… the works." She shrugged. "I was the awe of the alienage, really."

Alistair blinked, now impressed. That was quite a list of skills. "How come you lived there if you can do all of that?"

"Dad thought I wouldn't stand a chance at snagging a husband if anyone knew about my skills. He thought we'd seem like troublemakers."

That was understandable, in a nice, caring way. "I guess I can see why; I imagine not too many people in the alienage could use a sword while sober."

"No, no, it's just that my bunny patterns were considered offensive." The elf snorted, apparently of a different opinion. "Some people are just so sensitive about their ears, I tell you. Everyone knew I was an ace with weapons and the like. 'Cept my fiancé, of course."

"Your- wait, fiancé?" Alistair felt his eyes bulging a little bit. Well, this could get awkward very quickly. Of course, she was beautiful and everything, but… this was a low blow from the spirits. "You were- you're engaged?"

The elf snorted softly, throwing her handiwork into the cauldron stewing over the fire and continuing with her preparations. "If the ceremony had lasted a few minutes longer, I'd probably be considered a widow. Some humans showed up and kidnapped me and a bunch of girls. You'd think an arl's son would have enough money to afford actual willing women."

"You… you can speak about that so casually? That sounds like a terrifying experience."

"Actually, I'm kind of embarrassed about it." The elf smiled sheepishly, but it lasted only a moment. "I got knocked out by an unarmed mook – not the best way to show off my training."

"A what?"

"Oh, that's elvish. Anyway, it wasn't my finest moment."

"But you got out, didn't you? I mean… they didn't…"

"I got out and Duncan conscripted me before the guards could take me away." And then, out of the blue, a vicious sneer crossed her face – a rather Loghain expression, Tabris would have said if she could see herself. Alistair, who didn't know the full extent of their situation, just thought she was rather scary when she did that. "It was so worth it to see those shems get their undies in a twist."

Clearly, they were venturing into dangerous waters here. "So you fought your way out of a cell while in a wedding dress and unarmed?" Alistair summarized, trying to get the discussion back on track. The stew was bubbling, but it wasn't anything soothing now.

"Unarmed? No, no! Not at all." The elf peered at him in a surprised manner. Considering the things they were talking about, Alistair thought it rather unfair. "My cousin busted in and passed me a sword. Not that it was necessary; I take these everywhere."

Digging into one of her armor's pouches, the Warden withdrew several small metal objects with sharp edges and lightning-shaped pointy ends. In short, each looked like a metal octopus.

Alistair was at a loss of words, really.

"Uh, they're pretty, but how did you save yourself with earrings?"

Finally, the elf didn't laugh, but glared. No one insulted her shuriken! "These aren't earrings. These are throwing stars! One swipe of this baby and any nuisance is one jugular short of a circulatory system!"

Right, creepy was the word here. "I… see. Who gave you these things, though? Aren't alienages supposed to be very poor?" Those things looked well-polished and new. In fact, they looked more decorative than battle-effective to the templar. "This is pretty fancy…"

"Yeah, we pretty much had to live off rats and garbage dumps, but my mom was a pro burglar, spy and sometimes trapeze performer. She always got us the good stuff, so I'm prettier and cleaner than most of the elves back home. Also, she taught me her ninja arts."

"So you could help your family live better?"

"Hell no!" Tabris made a face. "So that I could get out of that dump! A one-person circus act isn't very easy to pull off, but once you get two people… well, it gains complexity. Better marketing, too." she added, fondly remembering the time when Shianni had clobbered Soris during their contest to create the best poster for this act.

Ah, good times.

"Wait, that doesn't explain why you became an adventurer."

"After mom kicked the bucket, she left behind all the fancy stuff. I thought I could start a sword-swallowing act, but I got better at actually fighting with swords than swallowing them… well, here I am. What else are you gonna use all that leather for?"

Alistair was quite certain his brain wasn't functioning anymore. Just when he was about to let out a nondescript noise to convey his utter confusion, there was a faint buzzing noise and the elf immediately sprung into action.

"Watch out! Hi-yah!"

With surprising dexterity, the elf rotated the stars around the forefingers of each hand, then tossed them in the direction of the misfortunate buzzer. When she retrieved them, Alistair was most definitely considering that this might not work out. But she was much too quick to allow for a discrete button press.

"What-what's going on?"

"It's a wasp!" Tabris announced victoriously. "It could have been connected to the darkspawn!"

"A wasp?" Alistair didn't know whether to laugh or back away slowly, but the manic gleam in the elf's eyes was rather alarming. "That's a little extreme… and you didn't have to slice it in half…"

"The plague could be carried in any number of ways." she insisted stubbornly, dumping the dead wasp into the stew.

Suddenly, things weren't looking so rosy any longer.

"But we could have treated that kind of bite with a simple poultice…"

Tabris shot him a flat look of disbelief. "You're very naïve, especially since everyone is out to get us. Or have you forgotten?"

With that, she reached into another one of her pouches and pulled out two scraps of parchment for Alistair to read. They turned out to be posters; two horrible caricatures of the two of them that looked nothing like either of them, along with their names scrambled under the distinct non-likenesses and a reward for their capture – not much of a sum, but Alistair suspected that he only thought that way because it wasn't obvious whether it was gold or silver or copper.

Or, you know, lashings.

What interested him was that there was a name under her picture, followed by Tabris – so it was her surname. But It was… well..

"Kealamaolua?" Alistair asked slowly, the hint of a cringe on his face. His accent was horrid and he practically mutilated the name from top to bottom, but it was the same sequence of syllables as on the paper.

Even the elf was impressed. "Huh, they actually spelled my name right?" She checked it; it was true. "Well, darn!"

"How do you pronounce it? Does it mean something in elvish?"

"Not really; it's complicated, anyway. Mom wanted me to be Kallian, but Dad didn't think it sounded feminine… and the Revered Mother got a little impatient at the baptizing and let the rather boozed-up sister write down whatever she wanted. So here I am." A shrug – she herself couldn't pronounce the full name at the best of times. "Kea."

"Eh… right."

And then, as if he had mortally offended her, her green eyes narrowed icily. Fortunately, Kea was gazing into the distance. "Someone's coming." With a swish of fabric, she was gone quicker than the eye could see.

One out of six. Five others. Princess Stabbity brandished her daggers at whoever had the misfortune of intruding upon them, twirling it so quickly one might have mistaken it for a piece of cloth.

Alistair glanced at the bubbling pot of sickly green liquid, at the throwing stars still stuck to the tree and then at the ring on his finger.

Needless to say, by the time Tabris confronted the latest visit, the sun was shining, the stew was bubbling and Alistair was gone.

Not that the Warden noticed too much; given the fact that she was correct about the guests and found herself face to face with an armed escort trailing dutifully behind a very much cranky and perpetually frowning Loghain. How they had managed to find this camp, Tabris didn't know, nor did she care. She had her throwing stars, but it was difficult to aim only for the jugular. Besides, she was a bit curious as to this development, even though she used her best sneer instead of a greeting.

"You have a lot of nerve to show your face here."

Were the guards of weaker constitution, they would have probably fainted at the sight of the slight elf addressing their general as such. However, Loghain was a difficult kind of evil overlord to work for; you never knew when he was being evil or pragmatic, or overlordly or just trying to keep things together.

Alternate character interpretation wasn't part of the So You Want To Be A Mook handbook they had studied from.

For such a favorable situation, the regent was surprisingly passive in expression, as if he still had to keep his true thoughts in check in front of a foolish young king. "I would hardly be a proper welcome for the Grey Wardens if they were ignored." Only his voice was laced with refined sarcasm.

Tabris swallowed, but tried not to look intimidated in any way; she had faced down situations as bad as this before. It probably hadn't been the brightest idea to practically broadcast their presence in Denerim by doing every damned sidequest in the city, come to think of it. Hindsight was mean like that.

"Welcome accomplished. Now leave before words turn to blows."

"You would disregard the perfect chance to end things on a whim?"

"Despite what you may think, Grey Wardens aren't assassins." She was, but this was beside the point.

Finally, there was the sneer; before an actual motive could be established, the arbitrary blows had to be gone through. "Your reputation wouldn't gain much by breaking diplomatic immunity in such a crass manner, certainly."

"Don't tell me you came to talk me into submission, that's just lame."

"Much as I'd like to be personally present for every action that goes on in this country, I do have other responsibilities besides trying to fill tasks delegated to others." The guards behind Loghain squirmed somewhat, knowing who that particular you have failed me, imbeciles tone was meant for.

Seriously, though, Loghain had been quite surprised when he had learned of the Wardens' presence in Denerim from a very peculiar court case where a boy had claimed that a mabari was his legal guardian and not his parents.

Life was cruel that way.

Tabris was unimpressed. "I'm highly flattered that you found the time in your busy schedule to visit." The Warden was subtle in many ways, but that didn't include conversation. "I'm not going to believe anything you say, so save us both some time and go back to your skulking."

The glance Loghain spared the daggers that littered the ground and trees everywhere said it all. "You would have me show my back to a dagger-wielding enemy?"

And that was it; Tabris practically jumped into action once more.

"Ah-ha! You thought you were too smart, but I see what you're up to now!" Loghain's eyebrows rose a perfectly practiced fraction of an inch, but he let the Warden rave on. "You expected me to do this so that I get irritated, attack first and then make it seem as though your lies were right – and brought witnesses for that purpose! But I anticipated that!"

Kea then went on a very long tirade about the possible convulsions of this dastardly – but well planned out – scheme. Needless to say, it was supposed to involve a faked murder with ketchup, stage knives, several disguises and cunning political maneuvers and bubble wrap.

Don't ask.

The regent listened to all this without interruption, though no one watching could discern what he was actually thinking. Finally, the elf was out of breath, almost foaming at the mouth in her righteous anger, eyes glittering feverishly. Now was the time for maniacal laughter and admissions. However, they were both to be surprised.

"I've… never met someone as paranoid as I am." Loghain actually appeared a little dazed; the admission didn't come easily.

But it was true and Kea realized it with no small degree of internal confusion.

"Me neither." She noted and tried her best not to look ignorant or break down. Which, of course, was best done by leveling the playing field. "It's… very strangely attractive." Peculiarly, thoughts about this being a potential conspiracy weren't the first thing on her mind.

Even when her long-time enemy took a step closer, she didn't yet whip out her throwing stars. Then again, if he were to reach for the very visible sword at his hip, she was still ready. Though it would be a shame after such a moment of kinship.

"I suggest a compromise." Loghain noted after several long moments of observing her in a manner that was more conflicted than stern. "We call off the civil war and merge forces against the darkspawn."

Kea blinked, stunned. She had expected quite a few things, but certainly not diplomacy. If that was it, that is. "So you'll make a formal apology for suggesting something so irrational like the Grey Wardens aiding darkspawn?"

"Wasn't it the Orlesians?"

The Warden waved her hand dismissively. "Darkspawn, Orlesians; same difference."

And that broke any semblance of stern hesitation, because it was quite clear that they were indeed of the same mindset.

"Marry me." Loghain made it sound like a demand for surrender by an overzealous watch officer to a petty, easily intimidated criminal, but there was a different kind of fire in his eyes. "All other details can be worked out later."

Kea blinked owlishly, trying to decide whether she should start laughing or get out her weapon. But she couldn't see any sign of an ambush or a joke – either of which would have been rather out of place.

"You're serious. No hidden angle?"

She was awarded with a sardonic half-sneer, which was a high sign of trust from Loghain, who preferred finer levels of sarcasm to open mocking. "I might have to think of one, should you refuse. That would just be embarrassing."

Kea said nothing for a few moments, but, in a motion quick enough to make even her mother proud, virtually jumped her former adversary, wrapping her legs around him dexterously. It would have been a one-hit-kill attack, had such an intention been behind it, but the accompanying soldiers managed to stay their weapons long enough to see that if the Warden was trying to smother the regent, she was employing the most enthusiastic and almost indecent method. If there was anything more peculiar than seeing the number one enemy of the state passionately smooching the stern war hero, then it had to be seeing the teyrn hastily repositioning his hands under her behind to keep her in place and respond as eagerly as someone of his levels of stoicism and constipation could.

A few of them were most certain that they needed to see a healer, because they had obviously lost any touch with reality. Some actually agreed to have a drink with Oghren, which showed exactly how desperate they were to regain any semblance of sense.

In the meantime, sheer lack of oxygen forced the elf to unglue her lips from her surprising partner's. Of course, the rest of her refused to move an inch, since there was no life-threatening reason to do so. Somehow, she found a way to ignore even the discomfort the armor had to be causing her.

Considering how both of them were sure they had gone a little insane to even suggest this and, enjoying it was the last thing to worry about. After all, the whole world had obviously gone mad, so they might as well be happy with the ride.

"Enjoyable as that was, I have yet to receive an answer." Maker bless whoever had invented armor, though, because the Warden could squirm when she wanted to.

"Yes…" the elf rasped out breathily. She wanted to laugh at the unlikeliness and convenience of it, but couldn't, with so much heat directed her way in an uwavering look. "Yes…"

For almost everyone else, having the most desired person in Thedas in their arms like this would have been the final push over the edge; Loghain appeared quite unfazed now that his bargaining position was much stronger.

"Yes, you understand or yes, you accept?"

The ninja Warden laughed heartily, feeling quite light-headed. And her father had thought some pretty boy smith was a prize groom for her. Oh, this would be such an enjoyable life.

"Or has no place in that question. It's yes and yes."

As someone trained to notice details, Kea knew that the lessening of Loghain's frown was much more profoundly significant than most would have suspected. The possessive kisses and slight tightening of the grip on her helped, too.

The world was officially insane and neither of them was about to waste time looking around for flying nugs.

"I think we should just have been this straightforward from the start." the regent murmured against her lips before taking possession of them without further delay.

If Alistair were there and knew the whole context of this event, he would have likely had a heart attack on the spot.

Unfortunately, that was not necessarily an improvement on his present situation….