AN - little random one-shot to kill off boredom. Not all Wardens are meant for Blights, people.
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They had been travelling non-stop until they reached Lothering, their tense faces focused on the path a little more than absolutely necessary. Alistair had yet to say a word. On the other hand, Morrigan and Mahariel spent a lot of their time chit-chatting like they were in a market. Or, to be more exact, Mahariel spent her time prodding the mage while the other would reply only so the brunette would shut up. When not prodding, she adored the grey Mabari who had thought it would be a good idea to attach himself to the group.
The thing kept ogling Alistair's legs; probably wondering where to bite. Mahariel had decided the dog was damned smart right there. Halas were decent but Mabari had teeth. That and he liked to bump his head against her legs, his scrunched face (like he had hit against a wall head-first a little too many times) comfortably warm against her skin. Smart pet.
Eventually, speaking to the male became necessary; especially once they reached the first village. Mahariel rolled her shoulders, cracked her fingers and prepared herself to what promised to be a fun moment.
"Where are we supposed to go?" First salve was hers, the war was officially on.
Alistair blinked, staring at her face in confusion. "I don't know…?"
"Well, I don't know for sure. Remember, last years outside anything you would call civilization, don't know a clue about most of the outside world? Yes, that is what being a Dalish implies." Her words were delivered simply, not insultingly. He had no explanation as to why each and every one of them made him feel like an idiot. "Tough up and start spilling, senior Warden."
"I don't command. I don't do command. I think you should lead, I'm fine with that. You did well so far."
She hadn't been commanding anything. She had, in fact, walked side by side with the mage, playing little attention to where they were going. Which meant they had been following Morrigan. Mahariel looked at the feather-clad woman up and down, her head tipped to the side.
"Works for me. Morrigan, where do you think we should go now?"
"You want us to follow the mage?"
That would be rather obvious, man.
"Unless you have an alternative that is not 'follow the elf'," she retorted. "Well, Morrigan?"
"Kill Loghain, of course. We head for Denerim, Warden. Then we can focus on the Blight."
Simple and practical. Approved.
"Sounds good."
"Sounds good?" Creators, that was a shrill effeminate sound for a male. "Sounds awful. We'll be killed before we reach the capital."
"Well, I don't see you giving a better idea."
"We should go to Redcliffe! See Arl Eamon!"
"Is that what we should do?" She tapped her chin with a finger, topping the movement with yet another shrug. "Then lead away."
Alistair seemed at the verge of an apoplexy. Soon as she was back with her family, she would have to tell them how easily it was to riddle a human.
"I am not leading!" He snapped, hands twitching towards his blade.
"Fine. Then which way is Denerim, Morrigan?"
Mahariel could see the little gears inside his brain collide, sparkle and hurt to the point of explosion.
"Maker damnit!" He yelled before the abomination's daughter could add salt to any wound. "Don't. You. Dare! Alright! We're going to Redcliffe. You! Don't wander any way." That would imply deciding another destination and this one had been hard enough. "And you! Stop giving her stupid ideas."
Morrigan raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why he thought she would listen.
Fool.
They turned left, crossed Lothering and began their way towards Redcliffe. A pace a little too fast for her tastes but the man was annoyed and convinced of his victory. Let him cherish it.
"Did you just manipulate the idiot, Warden?" Morrigan eventually asked after waiting a couple of hours for Mahariel to touch the subject.
There was a bland smile on the elf's face.
"Yes."
"For what purpose?" The older woman persisted. "If you would take the lead, t'is would be over much sooner, I expect. He will lead us in merry circles before taking us to the proper goal."
Not that intelligent, the poor woman.
"Too much trouble, too little reward and if something goes wrong, I can't be blamed."
"Oh…" Blessed pause. "I like you."
"I like me too." Mahariel shrugged, hand throwing a dagger into the air to pass the time. "Moving on from me, what's with that neat turn into wolf trick you have going? No chance in turning into a horse? Tracking all over this country on foot promises to be a drag."
By the way, three guesses as to whom sacrifices itself on the roof.