Title: Wedding Crashers

Full summary: Following the end of the Blight, Alistair became King of Ferelden, leaving his Warden lover behind. What's an elf to do after having her heart broken? Run off to Vigil's Keep and take up an insatiable, saucy apostate as a lover, of course. When Alistair's wedding day rolls around, f!Tabris is persuaded to attend. What will Alistair do seeing his former lover at the arms of a new suitor? Hilarity and jealous ensues. Set immediately after Awakening, before DA2.

Rated: M for mature language and explicit content.

A/N: Sometimes my imagination runs wild. I am incredibly partial to Awakening!Anders even though my LadyHawke romanced the hell out of him in DA2. I'd always imagined him to be a huge manwhore before Justice; what with the whole "that part of my life being over" bit. I mean, how could he not have been? Everyone in the Ferelden Circle was kissing everyone, and he has ridiculous boyish charm and wits. I bet he used to magick the robes off of any apprentice in between escaping the Circle seven times.

Anyways, some mild spoilers. For story's sake, Alistair was hardened but let's just say the wrong dialogue options were chosen. Cheers.

Post script: this piece is dedicated to all the players who rolled non-HNF, didn't get to become Queen, or hell, didn't stay as a mistress. I know you were all as pissed off as I was when he broke up with you.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Bioware does. I just borrow. Please enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE: THE INVITATION

One year earlier...

"So that's it?"

A blank stare came over her face; eyes watered, welling up at her waterline, but she refused to shed tears. He had never seen her so sad before. It hurt him to do this to her, after all she's been though already. After all they had already been through.

"It's over? Just like that?"

Keira Tabris didn't stick around for his answer. Instead she pushed passed him storming out of the room and bumping into his shoulder without so much as a flinch. Those last words were deafening in his ears, echoing and repeating themselves, over and over again. It was maddening. Alistair felt like a fool. He wanted to turn around and wrap his arms around her pixie form. Wanted to apologize profusely and pathetically until she forgave him, and everything was alright again. But everything wouldn't be alright; it could never be after today. Instead he stood in his place, feet glued to the floor, balling his hands into tight fists until his knuckles turned white against the pressure of his grip. It's over. Just like that, he thought, regrettably, looking up at all their other companions with a saddened gaze. Out of all of them Wynne had the saddest look of them all.

...

A year later, the wedding day...

Her eyes were piercing. They were staring straight through him, as if she didn't see him at all. As if he wasn't even there.

He held his breath in wonder, studying every speckle of gold in her hazel-green eyes. Couldn't stop staring, no matter how hard he tried. Her hair was down. It was never down. A veil of blonde silk lay softly on her shoulders, cascading down her back in soft waves. He wanted to simply reach out and brush it aside, take hold of her and mark her on the small of her clavicle, as if she was still his. There was no time to react when she descended her lips upon his, capturing his mouth in a fervent and breathtaking kiss. Those soft lips were as sweet as he remembered. It had been a year since he'd touched them with his own, and he hungrily welcomed her sly tongue with parted lips and a moan, relishing in the taste of her.

Alistair could feel her skin on his, so smooth and naked, unrealistically unmarred and unscathed from their many violent and bloody battles and misadventures. His tentative hand ran up the thighs that straddled him, fingers lightly feathering along the goosebump pebbled skin. As if he was afraid to touch her; that a move too abrupt or rough would cause her to dissipate in his arms, and he would be alone all over again. A small hand on his chest took all the air out of his lungs. He could feel his heart beating rapidly as her palm slide down his torso between their trembling bodies. And like a moth to a flame, his apparent arousal gravitated towards her molten heat. In a single swift motion, he sheathed himself into her and a soft moan against his lips encouraged him to move his hips, which he did so excitedly.

They were now in the throes of passion, grinding into each other with steady rhythm and lustful abandon. Alistair hissed as the wet sensations enveloped him, reveling in her soft hum against the crook of his neck as she bore down on his hardened length with eager enthusiasm. Her hands gripped his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his skin, and drawing blood. So close now. He moaned, as he reached the precipice of undiluted sinful pleasure. So close now. He longed to hear his name on her lips, to hear her scream it in ecstasy. Arms wrapped around her lithe pixie form, pulling her body closer to his as he reached his peak and fell over into hollow darkness.

Suddenly the warmth left him and his eyes flew open. Sweat dripped from his body and he gasped for air as if he'd been drowning. He was wrought with frantic distress as he shot up out of bed and searched all around his bedchamber. She was nowhere in sight and only blinding sunlight enveloped him. Alistair threw off the thick coverlet, scowling at the large wet spot in the center of the quilt. He threw his head backwards onto the plush pillows as he kicked the soiled blanket aside. She was gone. She was never there to begin with. It was all a dream, a fantasy of what once was and never will be. He was foolish to have believed otherwise. Groaning, Alistair swung his legs over his bed and sat upright. He felt sore on his joints, wrists, and ankles. Rubbing them, he wondered if he had slept funny last night. Come to think of it, he couldn't actually remember last night.

Alistair racked his brain, trying to remember what had happened the previous evening. He was drawing a blank. All he could remember was going down to the pub, and ordering a few drinks. He remembered meeting Zevran and Oghren too… and that was about it. Shaking his head, he ran his large hands through his disheveled hair and smoothed out wayward ruddy strands. There was a tentative knock at his door, and quickly he pushed aside his coverlet until it fell over the bed in a haphazard pile. Satisfied his shame had been masked, Alistair cleared his throat, beckoning the visitor at the door to come inside. It was a servant boy with a tray of tea and biscuits, obviously sent for him from either Eamon or Elissa for breakfast. The child's hands shook as he walked slowly towards the king, obviously afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. Empathetic, Alistair waved the frightened child over, taking the tray from him with a warm smile. At that the boy seemed comforted and bowed deeply before leaving in a rush. This caused Alistair to chuckle at the retreating silhouette before raising the teacup to his lips. He drank greedily, undeterred by the fact that the scalding hot liquid burned his tongue and throat.

He barely had time to dig into the pastries before Eamon came storming in, with the groomsmen party in tow. Almost immediately, they pulled the king on his feet, snatching the biscuits away and pushing him out the door in hasty preparation for the day's events.

...

Weeks earlier at Vigil's Keep...

"Absolutely not!" the furious pixie yelled, throwing her arms in the air, and waving frantically around at her surroundings. She was being followed by a persistent Orlesian woman, who was yelling right back at her in response.

The Orlesian was none other than the bard Leliana, who groaned in frustration, trailing behind at the heel of her flustered Grey Warden friend, Keira Tabris. "And why not?" she scowled, raising an eyebrow. Shrill cries caught the attention of many nearby workers, who ceased what they were doing in order to eavesdrop. A stern look from the Commander though had them scurrying back to their tasks.

Keira rolled her eyes. As Warden Commander and Arlessa of Amaranthine, she had more important things to do than attend the royal wedding of some fool who had broken her heart a year earlier. However, the redhead thought otherwise, as Leliana quickened her pace and jumped in front of the irritated elf. Keira narrowed her eyes, unamused by her friend obstructing the path ahead of her. The Orlesian would not budge, crossing her arms menacingly across her chest, tapping her foot and waiting for a legitimate response.

The Commander let out a frustrated groan, turning away from the bard and stomping off on her small feet. She barked more orders for a troupe of workers to keep their workspace clean as the Orlesian picked up the pace once more to catch up to the angry elf. If Leliana wasn't going to move out of the way, then Keira would simply walk away from her instead.

"Look at this!" she yelled in exasperation, arms waving around at the busy construction work. "It's a mess here. I'm not going. The Keep needs me!"

It was a lie. The Keep would be fine without her. The real reason she didn't want to go was because of Alistair. She most certainly didn't want to see him, must less see him get married to some prissy snob from Highever. He was a wound that was finally healing, and she wasn't about to have the stitches get pulled out without anesthesia, or at least half a bottle of Dragon's Piss already downed.

Leliana glanced around at the diligent workers busying themselves, surveying the construction work being done. The towering keep loomed over their heads. It looked ominous and dark. The fortress' stone wall was battered but still intact, thanks to Voldrik Glavonak. Several houses were being reconstructed or renovated, built up by hard work, skilled hands and smart wits alone. Many workers were carefully patching roofs, laying foundations, or discarding rubbish material. This was a far cry from the wreck Keira tried to make Vigil's Keep out to be. At last, the Orlesian bard shot the pixie elf an unconvinced look, narrowing her eyes at the shifty rogue who'd been caught in a lie. "Everything looks fine to me. You'll only be gone a week. I am sure they'll survive without you."

Keira scowled at her friend from over her shoulders. She had given a weak excuse and she knew it, now she was upset Leliana had seen right through it. The redheaded bard ran ahead of her friend once more, blocking her path as she did before. She stood her ground this time, shifting to the left and then right, cutting off the angry elf from stomping past her again.

"Come on! It'll be fun! Even Oghren is coming and Zevran will be there too. Please!" The woman had a knack for shaming people. Perhaps she had picked it up from her time in the Chantry. Regardless, she definitely knew how to turn on the waterworks, widening her blue doe-eyes at Keira the way a child would when they wanted something they couldn't have.

She scoffed at first, "if that is your idea of fun, I'd hate to think what you thought of the archdemon." But at last, Keira conceded to her pleading friend, hanging her head low and muttering almost incoherently, "I'll think about it."

Somehow this sounded more like "Yes! Absolutely! I most certainly will" to Leliana because the bard clapped her hands joyously in response. "Magnifique!" she exclaimed with a wide grin. Her eyes twinkled with all sorts of mischief as she skipped all the way towards her loaded carriage, talking aloud to herself excitedly about shoes and dresses and all sorts of ideas she had for Tabris.

"I'll see you at the estate in a few days! Don't worry about anything! I'll have your dress and shoes and jewelry ready when you arrive!" With that, Leliana pulled her heavy hood over her head and boarded the horse drawn vehicle. A whip snapped at the horses and she was on her way to Denerim, with the full expectation of seeing Keira there in the next few days.

She watched in disbelief as her friend skipped away. The Warden Commander suddenly smacked herself mentally. O Maker, what in the bloody Void have I gotten myself into. She could defeat an archdemon, slay a broodmother, but she couldn't say 'no' to a persistent Orlesian? Perhaps she had gone soft…

Keira was so lost in her thoughts she did not even notice Anders had snuck up from behind her, having taken an eyeful of the bard's derrière as she skipped away. Shame she wasn't staying the night, he thought to himself. And such fantastic hips too. He was grinning manically at this point, from ear to ear. After having watched their heated exchange from afar, he had deduced the bard probably would have been great in bed. Shame he wouldn't get the chance to find out. Oh well.

He was certainly amused by their conversation at least. His Warden Commander was a fearless warrior-rogue, skilled on the battlefield with any dagger or sword at hand. She was always determined to complete every mission, task, or quest thrust upon her regardless if it came from the lowest of peasants to the highest of nobility. And that wasn't the only thing she was skilled with thrust upon her either. A throaty chuckle immediately brought Keira's attention to the mage standing aside her. She turned her head to him, slightly surprised by his sudden presence but quickly she narrowed her eyes. He simply gave her that look, the one where he was feigning innocence after having done or thought of something terribly naughty. She didn't say anything though, now wasn't the best time for her to start probing into the mind of Anders, apostate mage and spirit healer extraordinaire. Instead she turned her body to face him.

"Good, you're already here, saves me the trouble of actually having to look for you." She was curt and matter-of-factly. He smirked in response, continuing to sustain his look of child-like innocence.

With a flick of her wrist she beckoned him to follow her, leading the both of them into the Keep and away from all the hustle and bustle of work. The pair walked through the iron gates of the fortress, into the lobby, across the throne room, and off into a side corridor towards the back wing of the Keep. They were silent in their journey through the winding hallways and spiral staircases, as if they already knew their destination. If it weren't for the positively giddy look on Ander's face, one would have thought the Commander was getting ready to skin him alive. She looked so sour compared to him.

At last she stopped, facing a particular door. She held out a hand, ushering Anders into the room. He did as he was ordered to and she followed suit, entering in after him. As soon as the door closed though, he pounced on her, slamming her lithe body against the hard wood, and devouring her mouth with his, kissing hungrily before she could make a sound. He pinned her against the door, one hand pulling her face towards his while another slipped around her waist, turning the lock and giving them security from prying eyes.

Her deft hands were fast at work, unclasping and untying his intricately assembled robes, rushing to push aside the heavy fabric in order to feel his skin on hers; to warm her cold touch against his hot flesh. At last they parted bruised lips, gasping for air. The separation did not last long though, as Anders swiftly dipped his head in between the crook of her neck, lapping along the patch of skin above her clavicle, running his wet tongue along her pulse. She hummed approvingly as he murmured something against her skin. The words were incoherent, not that she was in any state to make them out anyways. Lustfully, with a heavy shove, she pushed him away from her, shoving him deeper into the room and towards the canopy bed.

He cried out from the impact, stumbling backwards on uneasy footing a few paces before regaining his composure. She thought he looked delicious; skin flushed, hair disarray, robes disheveled, and chest bared. She loved it, lusted for it, and indulged in it far too many times to count. Her dirty little secret. Her self-medication. The one thing that kept her mind off of Alistair and the hole in her heart that he'd left. But enough about Alistair, she had thought too much of him for one day.

Licking her lips naughtily, she sauntered towards him. He welcomed her with open arms, taking her in for a much softer kiss. When they parted lips, he muttered once more, "What was all that about?" as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She moaned softly, squirming against his touch, dismissing his question with a breathy response, "Oh nothing, just a wedding." The mage snaked both arms around her waist, turning her around until her back leaned against the post of their canopy bed. He ceased his kisses, smirking against her skin.

"Oooh. I love weddings!" he exclaimed, mouthing the words into her neck, as his hands went up to untie the hair band that held her blonde mane in a bun. It fell onto her shoulders, stuck in a singular, tightly wound curl. His hands quickly ran through it, separating it as he cupped the back of her head to capture her lips in another impassioned kiss. His free hand now worked on the laces of her breeches, eager to get the garment off but her arms flew up once more to push him away. Frowning, he let go, pulling back his face from hers.

"It's the Royal Wedding," she scowled.

At that, Anders laughed heartily. "Even better!" he exclaimed, taking hold of her shoulders to spin her around once more. This time, her back was to him, and she was pushed forward, hands bracing against the bedpost. He growled excitedly, whether for the wedding or for her, she wasn't quite sure. "Royal weddings are the best weddings," he said, as he pressed the evidence of his arousal into her curved backside. She hissed at him, clutching the post with a vice grip when his hand reached over her shoulder and palmed her clothed breast roughly.

"You are going, right?" he asked, nonchalantly, as his other hand wiggled their way into her breeches. His hot breath tickled her ear sounding so certain, so sure. His comment startled her though, and she went rigid in his arms, unresponsive to his touch.

"Of course not. Why would I?" she replied, indignantly. Anders wasn't sure what he'd done to offend her, but he removed his hands and took a step back. He folded his arms across his broad chest, brows raised and face contorted into a confused look. She frowned in response, making a disgruntled face of her own. Finally, she cocked her head to the side and placed a hand on her hip in a defensive stance. "You really think I should go?"

Anders nodded his head. Yes, he thought. Seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do in his mind. Now it was her turn to cross her arms. She gave him a baffled look as if she didn't believe what she saw. "Really? Would you attend a former lover's wedding? Specifically one who tore your heart out and ate it for brunch?" She was being sarcastic of course. But if she was going to be sarcastic, he would be patronizing.

He grinned, devilishly, in response. Quickly, he closed the gap between them, taking her into his arms with a tight grip. In a swift motion he tossed her onto the bed like a rag doll and she landed on the plush mattress with a thud. In another swift motion, he was atop of her, one knee kneeling into the bed and arms at her side, blocking off any point of escape. Of course, she could just knee him where it hurt, but he was certain she wouldn't do that. Well… not one hundred percent certain, but it was a risk he was willing to take. She peered into his amber eyes with anger, which instantly melted when he devoured her lips once more in a hungry kiss. She reciprocated, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him in to her. Anders' arms gave and he laid himself next to her, dipping the bed with his weight, pulling her lithe pixie form to him. Finally parting, he smirked as she opened her eyes. "In a heartbeat," he whispered, as if it were just that simple. Just like that. In a heartbeat.

Keira sighed, somewhat contently. It suddenly dawned on her that perhaps she was fighting a losing battle once more. First, Leliana was against her and now her lover was too? "Alright," she muttered, "But if I have to go, then you're coming with me." There was a look of determination on her face. A look he hadn't seen since she'd gutted the broodmother in half months earlier. It made her look all the more desirable, as he leaned in for another kiss, hands trailing down her side, eager to get all these clothes off.

"Even better," he breathed, looming closer to fill the gap between them. He'd never wanted to ravish her as much as he did right then and there.

But immediately a hand went up, pushing against his bare chest, pushing him away from her. She pulled away from him, creating an even larger space between his and her lips. He groaned in response, furrowing a brow out of curiosity. She simply disentangled herself from his limbs and began straightening up her clothes and hair. Anders rolled over onto his back, pushing himself up with his elbows in order to stare baffled at her as she ignored him.

"What?" he asked, wondering what else he'd done wrong this time?

Keira simply replied, "Well, if we're going, then you better start packing!"

At that she stormed off, unlocking the door and disappearing into the hallway, leaving him aroused and aching. Anders groaned painfully as he looked down at his hardened arousal, feeling abandoned. His means of gratification had just walked out the door, leaving him straining against his breeches and unsatisfied.

"Well… shit."