A/N: This is my first Fan Fiction, which is somehow more intimidating then "My First Chemistry Set". Huge Thanks to ZevGirl for saving me from a dark hole of grammatical errors. Please R&R.

Wicked Callings

Once Upon a Blight

"Once Upon A Time...There Lived A Royal Bastard!" Mira snickered while holding a rather large deteriorating book.

"Hey! That's not what it says!" Alistair sneered, grabbing the book away from her.

"Oww!" Mira shook her right hand furiously, giving him a pouty look and sucking on her finger."You gave me a paper cut!" She thrust out her pointer finger. "See!"

Alistair rolled his eyes at her.

A cloud of dust escaped the old tome as he flipped through its pages. Coughing and sneezing, Mira batted a hand in front of her face futilely trying to combat the assault on her nose and throat. He shot her a sidelong glance and smirked. She sneezed again.

"Serves you right." He smiled at her, offering her a handkerchief, her green eyes now bright and shining behind the watery redness.

She sneezed again.

"Bless you," he chuckled, watching her struggle. She gave him a mischievous glare as she wiped the snot from her face. Smiling again, Mira dangled the damp cloth by two fingers, offering it back to him.

"No…you keep it, something to remember me by," he said, wrinkling up his nose in exaggerated disgust.

They had followed up on a discovery made by Oghren the previous night. He was acting on a tip from one of the guards, about where to find hidden spirits. In a small storage pantry located under a staircase in the north tower, he had been trying to pry open a dusty crate when he fell backward through a false wall. After waking up several hours later with a headache, he was elated to discover several bottles of fine rum.

Behind the false wall lay a long hallway that ended with a door. Alistair broke it down.

The light from their torch revealed a small foyer. Mira picked up one of the stray books scattered on the floor.

Alistair leaned over her. "What does it say?" This had led to the demise of her sinuses.

Alistair's eyes darted around the dim hallway as he lit a small torch by the wall. It startled him as it erupted in flame, the large open mouth of what looked to be a stone impression of a demon's head screaming. Eyeballing the wretched sconce, he stated, "Oh lovely, I'll have to speak to someone about their rather odd choices in interior decoration."

Mira laughed and replied, "Yes, do remind me to pick up a few of these for my house... so inviting."

"Be sure to pick up some for Morrigan as well," he sneered. "Seems more her style. Nothing says 'I'm carrying an archdemon baby more than a proper set of screaming demon night lights to warm the atmosphere."

Mira looked at him oddly, cocking her head to the left and pondering all the sarcastic comments racing through her head. She opened her mouth to speak when he cut her off.

"Not a word!" he said, pointing at her.

Still looking at him, the corners of her mouth turned upward into a devilish grin, and she took a step into the room. Her right foot hit something she was not expecting, causing her to stumble forward trying to find some form of solid ground. There was little to be found, as her feet flew backward out from under her. With a loud thump, she hit the ground face first, cursing, as her body slid to a stop.

Alistair lit the second Sconce. He let out a howl of a laugh as he saw Mira, laying face down, fumbling over her unseen conflict.

At her feet lay the pile of books she so eloquently stumbled over.

"She overcame a Blight, but was defeated by..." He waved his hand in a grand gesture. "...a pile of books." He composed himself, still laughing as he offered her a hand. "Whoever said 'the pen is mightier than the sword', was a wise man, I'll give him that..." She shot him a dirty look as he helped her to stand.

Ancient books and scrolls lay strewn in piles all over the floor beneath the rows of shelves. A small yet well-equipped apothecary desk sat to the left. In the center of the room stood a desk; upon it a quill, some neatly stacked books, and a few small bottles. A thick layer of dust covered just about everything in the room. They circled around it cautiously, in opposite directions, finally meeting in the center of the room by the desk. Mira began examining the books carefully stacked in groups on the floor. She had only begun to study each individual tome, when Alistair spoke up.

"Look at this."

As she rounded the desk, she noticed several sheets of parchment on which symbols were drawn, followed by line after line of notes written in a language neither of them had ever seen. She positioned herself near Alistair as he examined one of three small bottles arranged on the corner of the table. They briefly stared at each other, contemplating their observation.

"Look," Alistair pointed out, "Look here." He traced his fingertip over a carved impression in the table. Mira removed a stack of books revealing more of the strange symbol.

Clearing off the rest of the table, they stood back surveying the image.

"Are those scotch marks?" he asked, knowingly.

"And another over here," she answered quickly.

"Is there a history of strange, secret alchemists in Denerim?" she questioned him, a look of concern passing over her brow.

"None that I have ever heard of, but that would be the point of the whole 'secret thing', wouldn't it?" He glanced around the room, puzzled.

"You would think being King would make you privy to such information," she said, still examining the desk.

"Mmm, I didn't expect anyone to hand me a crown and say 'Oh, by the way, Alistair, don't mind the secret order of blood mages stashed away in the cellar, next to the wine." He casually strolled around the room.

"Blood mages?" Her eyes widened in disdain. "You think?" She curled her lip in a grimace. "I hate those guys!"

"I'm not entirely sure," he glanced up, looking at her. "Most estates and large villages have their healers, and mostly, they're always escorted by Templar's." A look of concern washed over his face "…but nothing like this."

"What do you suppose we should do?" She looked at him utterly confused. Pausing for a moment, she continued, "After all, you're the King," she smirked.

His eyes squinted at her. "For now, I think it's best we keep this to ourselves, lest we incite yet another wave of panic." His face remained serious.

"Well, it was so much fun the first time." She patted him the shoulder

"Riiiight," he chuckled, suddenly feeling famished. "Are you hungry?"

"Now that I think about it, I'm starving. Didn't we just eat?" she answered.

"We did just eat, but I could eat a horse right now," he said rubbing his belly.

"This isn't a tainted blood thing, is it? I'm not going to become ravenously hungry and grow to the size of a broodmother, am I?" Her eyes widened.

"I'm not sure. I've never met another female Grey Warden... Maybe..." He looked at her playfully. "Maybe, you'll get so fat it will take ten high dragons just to make you one chest piece."

She glared at him, "Shut it!" and punched him.

"Ow, that hurt!" He rubbed his arm. "You've got a good right!"

"I've been training." She smiled coyly, momentarily glancing at the ground.

"Oh, is that what you and Zevran are calling it these days?" He put a friendly arm around her, "I have heard you make less noise while screaming profanity at GIANT spiders."

"BLECK...!" She shuddered and recoiled from him, her fingers crunching into claws. "I HATE SPIDERS!" she shouted, screwing up her face tightly and sticking out her tongue.

He smiled and laughed at her. "Shall we go then?" he asked offering her an arm.

"Spiders!" he said abruptly.

"BLECK!" She cringed again and they disappeared down the hallway.