So...this was...scary.

Alistair swallowed as he shifted where he stood, making the floorboard creak under him, in turn making him grimace, which made him sweat even more than he already did, making him wonder why he wasn't running away already...

Cyrion watched him impassively, the elder elf's hands gently folded over one another as they rested on the worn table he sat by. Alistair couldn't help but notice that there was actually four chairs by the table...and that he was being offered none.

Cyrion was worn and haggard by the looks of it. Not only had he'd just been freed from a horrible captivity...but Alistair got the distinct impression that this was a man that had lived a harsh life, and that Alistair's heavy armour and weapons wasn't the least impressive to the pale eyes watching him.

The long nose wasn't the least like the little one Leanna sported, nor was he as small as her, though perhaps she had inherited his hair...it was hard to tell with his being all white by now. Alistair glumly realised he was studying the face of the man just to avoid what was to come...though it was interesting that the man looked nothing like her, maybe Alistair should ask her about her mother? Though...maybe that was too personal. Then again he was-

"Alistair I understand it?" Cyrion asked, making Alistair flinch.

"Yes si-" Alistair stuttered as he saw the man's eyes narrow. "Cy-" No that didn't look good either. "Sir I...heh..." Alistair rubbed the back of his head, feeling awkward. "Erm...sorry...want do you wish me to call you?"

"Call me what you will, I've been called quite a lot in my time...I care not." Was there a hint of criticism there? Damn...Alistair really didn't want this discussion.

"Very well...sir." Alistair licked his lips, knowing fully well how it looked. Him, pristine human, standing in a shed where even the floorboard was pulled open, the owner looking equally run-down...there couldn't be a more distinct difference. He hadn't really counted on...that little detail.

Cyrion's fingers interlocked as he leant forward, eyes so damn serious....ah...so that was where she got it from. "My little girl has told me quite a few things about you." Oh. "Been off doing quite a few heroics you've two...among other things."

"Erm...well..." Alistair's eyes darted left and right, trying to find some sort of escape, there was none to be had though, of course. "...of course...if I've had the opportunity...I would have...asked your...permission...or...something. You see it sort of-"

"And you wouldn't have gotten it." Cyrion interrupted, a flash of anger in his eyes. "To think that you, a noble human has seduced my innocent little-"

"Innocent!?" Alistair couldn't help it, it just slipped out, the elf before him frowned. "Erm...not to...argue but...innocent!?"

A small grin broke the angry façade, if just for a moment. "Ah, at least you actually seem to know her." Yes! Point to Alistair! "Of course that could mean that you've been quite insidious sneaking you way into her heart..." Oh, yeah...great... apparently he was suspected of being Zevran now. "Did she ever told you about how she was recruited by the grey wardens?"

Alistair felt his cheeks flush. "It...sort of came out a few hours ago...it was awfully hard to get it out of her...as such things usually are."

"Yes, she's quite slippery." Cyrion agreed, though if he liked Alistair's observation or not was impossible to tell. "But lets not confuse the issue, you've been seeing my baby girl, you." There was definitively an accusation in there, but Alistair didn't quite get it... "She's not a warrior, nor is she some mage-hunter...nor is she one of your kind. What could you two possible have in common?"

"Well...uh..." Alistair hesitated. "We're the only two grey wardens in Ferelden for one...we both battle the blight with all our power, we've both...suffered during our struggle here. We've helped one another to handle our issues, supporting one another if you will." He wasn't sure this was the right tactic...there was no hint of any success in Cyrion's face. "She's not strictly a warrior...but that's partly why I'm at her side, to take the hits she can't...to complement her where she finds herself lacking...as she does to me."

Cyrion sighed and looked away, face bitter.

"I...know that I don't have a good way with words...so I'm not sure if I really..."

"You're making it awfully hard for me to hate you." Cyrion suddenly muttered, shooting Alistair an odd look.

Alistair blinked, dumbfounded for a moment. "Huh...funny...that's what she said once."

"Really? When?"

"Erm..." Alistair felt his entire body grow red.

Cyrion rolled his eyes at him, was it just Alistair...or was there at least a ghost of a smile on the old man's face? "Forget it. So you're just filling a void in each others life then? Finding some comfort in one another in this time of crisis?" The man shrugged, grimacing a little. "I guess I can find no fault in that...judging by what she told me she can use all the distractions she can get."

Alistair grimaced. "Erm...actually it's a bit more than-"

"Stop."

"Excuse me?"

There was not even a ghost of a smile in Cyrion's face now, his face looking as if it had been carved in wood as he watched Alistair, unyielding. "You will not declare some undying devotion to to her to me, nor her."

"Actually-"

"No."

"What?"

"She has told me everything." Cyrion slowly rose from his seat, there was something...dangerous in the movement, scary. "You're to take the throne."

"Well that has yet to be...determined, but we have plans...inkling in that direction." Alistair admitted, the old dread grasping his heart even as a new one begun to brew within his gut...what was Cyrion's angle?

"Lead the nation to war, defeat the blight, not to mention that you before this actually have to unite said nation...with our Queen's help or not." Cyrion's face was changing, darkening as he stood up, leaning heavily against his table as he eyed Alistair.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at..."

"I doubt the nation will unite behind a king obviously bedding an elven harlot..." The words was but a hiss.

"Hey don't call her a-"

"That's what they'll say!" Cyrion's eyes flashed with sudden rage, making the armoured human take a step back. "My baby girl will be seen as your whore! A concubine keeping you from your kingly works!" The old man looked away, teeth bared in a feral snarl. "And they would be right..."

"Hey, it doesn't have to be like that, I could..."

"What? Marry her!?" The man laughed. "That's even worse, use your head boy, she told me you were smart, despite that foolish mouth of yours."

Alistair raised a finger in protest, a funny one liner or...something on the tip of his tongue. Then he thought better of it...sighing he felt his shoulders slump, he looked away, suddenly unable to look at the old man. "I...damn logic..."

"I...agree." There was a creak as the old man turned back and sat down in his chair, a weary sigh escaping him. "She will not be accepted, you know this." A quick glance up told Alistair Cyron was watching his hands, a thoughtful frown on his lips. "The elf in me is saddened by this...but the father is gladdened...can you understand that?"

"I..." Alistair felt his hands curl into fists, some emotional part of him wanting to just...do something! Gladdened by it!? Then of course...her being taken up in high society...she would always be the stranger, someone looked at with some hesitation, spoken of in whispers when they thought she couldn't hear. Not to mention that the courtly life...didn't fit her as a person. "...yes." He forced himself to straighten, mood darkening. "It's my cross to bear, not hers."

"I'm sorry, I really am." Cyrion muttered, giving Alistair a sympathetic look. "You seem like an okay kid...all the more so considering all the things Leanna have told me, it speaks volumes about your character..." He shook his head, still sympathetic as ever. "But my daughter and you...it's destined to failed."

It was as if someone had stabbed him, and despite knowing that feeling well...it was somehow worse this time. As if a spike of ice had been shoved into his lungs, driving all air out of him and leaving him with a feeling of having had something...ripped out of him.

Cyrion watched Alistair's face with a mix of fascination and sympathy. Then, much to Alistair's surprise, there was a sudden hint of...wetness in the man's eyes. "Oh son...I'm so sorry."

"Y-yeah." Alistair choked out, nodding clumsily. "H-heh, bu-but it's alright i-isn't it?" He forced a trembling smile. "M-more fish in th-the sea...right?" Right...!?

"I..." Cyrion looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "...yes...sure."

"I...don't believe you."

The man didn't answer, still looking away, gaze distant, face a mask that badly concealed his sympathy. No...damn it...

He couldn't make himself say anything more, turning he marched towards the door, not really seeing it. Outside it was sunny, as if the weather was taunting him. Alistair ignored it though, as he did the others waiting outside...instead the still working part of his mind told him they were supposed to go to the pearl...ignoring the distant sound that probably was a question from one of the companions he took the lead.

And begun to walk....