Waking up to an aching head, was bad enough. But then he made the mistake of trying to move and realized that "ache" was a gross understatement. His head felt like an overripe melon and threatened to wobble off. The wobbling off part didn't sound too bad, then he wouldn't be hurting so much. Then his gut cramped up and he wondered which would be worse: rolling over to puke, or trying to hold it in?

"Alistair?"

He whimpered. Her normally soft, sweet voice was anything but. He'd never heard her yell like that before, even when he and Morrigan had been constantly at each other's throats at the start of the Blight. Oh, he'd gotten her to scream more than once, but that was under far more pleasant circumstances.

"Maker's breath, what did you do to yourself?"

Alistair managed to groan out, "Not so loud."

He could feel the scowl, which was good, because he suspected if he opened his eyes it would be really, really bad. And not because of Marlana scowling down at him. Her voice sharpened into scalpel sharpness, "I'm barely whispering."

Then he heard the source of all his misery as he heard Oghren's chortle which made his queasiness become something much worse. The former templar just barely managed to roll over to vomit on the ground and not on himself. At least he thought it was the ground, he hoped it was the ground, but knew his hopes were in vain with a stifled snicker from Marlana as Oghren growled, "Nug-humper!"

Rather bravely, or so he thought, he cracked open one eye and whimpered again as brilliant light seared through. He quickly closed it again, because he realized he didn't get the ground. He felt a bit of satisfaction though, at least he'd gotten Oghren. Served the dwarf right for whatever the drunken ass gave him. He'd take one of Lana's poisons any day, they at least killed a person quickly. Or at least, didn't drag things out this way.

"Oghren, since I'm going to assume you're responsible for this mess, I'm leaving you to clean it."

As Oghren stomped off muttering further curses, and Alistair deeply wished the dwarf wasn't quite so loud, Lana dragged his sorry butt out of bed. He was too miserable to pay attention to where she pushed, pulled and prodded him to until he was unceremoniously dumped into a bath of ice cold water. Yelping, he tried to get out, but was too uncoordinated to do anything but flail about.

There were times Alistair almost wished he'd never left the Chantry. As his love grabbed his head to pour something vile down his throat to deal with the hangover, Alistair realized this was one of those times.