AN: I am alive! Apologies for the lack of posting. College is rough at times. Here's a little something I came up with a while ago. Enjoy!
The flames licked the air as the young warrior stared at them, dancing around the wood, devouring it. Trying to save Eamon reminded the illegitimate heir to the Fereldan throne about his time with the arl when Alistair was a child. A memory surfaced unwilling: a younger Eamon sitting on the cold stone floor of his castle and beside him, Alistair, a rambunctious young boy with a penchant for stories. The arl would tell countless stories into the night, sometimes having to be dragged away by a jealous arlessa. But Alistair took his victories when he could, even if he didn't understand the issues as a child.
A soft voice roused him from his thoughts. "Alistair, are you feeling well?" Wynne had been sitting around the raging fire they had made hours ago to cook dinner. The others had finished their food moments ago and left to their tents, the silence having lured the young warrior into his thought.
Alistair smiled. "Oh, I'm fine, Wynne. The fire just reminded me of some stories from when I was a boy. Arl Eamon used to tell a few when he could."
"Well, you should've mentioned it sooner. I'm sure Leliana would have indulged you with a tale or two."
"I don't want to bother her, or anyone, really. It's just a stupid thing, anyway."
"Now, Alistair," came Wynne's motherly voice, "wanting to forget our problems for even a moment is not stupidity. It does us well to enjoy the small things while we can."
Alistair played with a weed on the ground, pulling it from its place. What the heck, it wouldn't hurt. "You're right, Wynne. Maybe she's still awake and I can ask for a quick story." He stands from the log he had been using as a seat. "Thank you."
The old mage merely nodded, a smile only a mother would give to her child decorated her features. He returned it, feeling more encouraged. It wasn't too late yet, and their trip from Redcliffe had been fairly easy.
With a stride in his step, Alistair walked over to where Leliana's tent stood. Unannounced, he opened the flaps of the tent and crouched inside.
Oh, Maker…
"Alistair!" Elissa, his leader and fellow Grey Warden, scrambled to cover her very naked body. Heat rose to his neck and face, only increasing when he saw Leliana under the startled Cousland in an equal state of undress. He stood there, jaw nearly hitting the bare leg of Leliana, eyes unblinking.
"Don't just stand there! Leave!" Elissa gestured towards him with both hands, the shirt she had been holding to her chest falling.
The words didn't register in Alistair's mind. All he could notice was the bare skin of both ladies scrambling to get their clothing, the way shadows danced across their—
"Ow!" Alistair snapped from the trance he had fallen into as the sheath of a sword smacked him in the face.
"Alistair!"
"I—I uh… Right! Leave. Yes," he babbled, shaking his head.
Alistair straightened himself and turned quickly. Too quickly. His foot caught on a corner of the pieces of wood that held together the tent. With a yelp, he grasped at empty air and managed to hold onto the tent's flaps. In one fell swoop, Alistair fell, tent and all coming down on the three.
"Maker's balls, Alistair!" Elissa cried as she struggled to find an opening in the tent.
Alistair pawed at the tent, freeing himself from the tangled mess of limbs he was stuck in. He looked up, everyone's eyes on them. Zevran's laugh echoed through the forest, followed by a disgusted sound from Morrigan. He glanced at the two still-naked women, both of them glaring at him as they covered themselves with the tent.
"Uh… Sorry?"
"Alistair, if you're still here by the time I find my clothes, I swear on Andraste's ashes I will feed you to Morrigan."
"Ah! No, I'm sorry! I just—" Elissa pulled on a wool top, thrashing through the remains of Leliana's tent for some trousers.
"You have five seconds, Alistair."
She won't actually feed me to Morrigan, right? She's probably just really angry at me. That's all.
"Let me help you—"
"Time's up," Elissa announced as she tied her trousers on tightly. Oh, Maker, she's going to feed me to Morrigan! "C'mere, you little—oh I'm going to make you regret I didn't die at the Tower of Ishal!"
Alistair bolted upwards and began running away from the sprinting Cousland that was charging in his direction, screaming and yelling.
"I'M SORRY, ELISA!"
"DON'T RUN AWAY NOW, ALISTAIR. YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!"
The two ran in circles around the campfire, Zevran rolling on the ground, gripping his abdomen as tears of laughter fell from his eyes. Leliana, unamused, grabbed her clothes quickly and hid under the fallen tent to dress. Morrigan watched, lithe arms crossed, as the two sorry excuses for Wardens chased each other.