Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who fell under an enchantment. One morning, she fell asleep, and could not be wakened. Not only that, the rest of the palace fell asleep also. The Queen fell asleep in her garden. The servants had all started their morning routines, and right in the midst of them, they fell asleep too. The horses fell asleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the doves on the roof, and the flies on the wall. Even the fire in the hearth grew still and went to sleep. The wind died down, and on the trees in front of the castle, not a leaf stirred.
"Maker's breath, what the bloody hell happened to my palace?" Alistair gazed in bewilderment at the extraordinary sight before him. He had been into the city, with his personal guard, for only four hours. Everything was fine when he left. Now, there were guards slumped against the gates, and more of them hung over the battlements. Through the gates, he could see animals and servants laid out on the cobbles. To his templar-trained senses, the whole place reeked of magic.
One of his guards checked those slumped figures that he could reach. "They're not dead, sire. They're unconscious, but I can't see any wounds."
Round the castle a hedge of briar roses began to grow up. It grew higher until at last nothing could be seen of the sleeping castle.
Pink spongy growths crawled up the outside walls like fungus. Alistair frowned at them perplexed; he'd seen these before, a long, long, time ago. He snapped his fingers, as enlightenment dawned. "Demons! This is the same stuff the Tower was coated in when Uldred went wild."
The Captain of his guard, the King's Own, shuddered. "Demons, sire? Thank the Maker you weren't inside. How could this have happened?"
The King's mouth set in a tight line. "I don't know, but my wife and daughter are in there, together with a lot of other people. Sweet Andraste, there's a delegation of Rivaini royalty in there too, come to petition for my daughter's hand for their son. It'll be war if we're not careful. We'll need to find the Demons, and kill them quickly."
"Shall I send a runner to the Chantry, sire?"
Alistair snorted scornfully. "Templars? Pff, I saw how useless they were when the Tower was overrun. No, run down to the Warden compound, and round up whoever you find there. I can trust them to watch my back."
The Captain looked shocked. "You're not intending to go in yourself, sire? It's not safe."
Alistair looked at him incredulously. He said patiently, "Yes, Captain, that's why we're going in. My wife and child are in there, and it's not safe. Now send that runner, please. I want to do this quickly."
There was a legend in the land about the sleeping Princess. A Prince came from another country, and he heard the tale of the castle which stood behind the briar hedge, and the beautiful Princess who slept within. The young Prince said, "I am not afraid. I must go and see this Sleeping Beauty."
The runner returned swiftly, and reported that Warden Anders was on his way, together with a couple of younger Wardens that Alistair didn't know. The King looked relieved. "Anders is one of the finest healers in Ferelden, Captain. That should put your fears at ease." He surveyed the palace walls. "Right, either we smash the gates, or go over the walls," he looked down at his armour, "I know which one gets my vote. Is there anything round here we can use as a ram?"
In the courtyard, the Prince saw the horses and dogs lying asleep. On the roof sat the sleeping doves with their heads tucked under their wings. When he went into the house, the flies were asleep on the walls and the servants asleep in the halls. In the kitchen; the cook, the kitchen boy and the kitchen maid all slept with their heads resting on the table.
They gazed around at the peaceful bodies, the air filled with the buzz of contented snores. All their attempts to wake anyone had failed miserably."Well, Alistair, either someone has mastered the Granddaddy of all sleep spells, or we've got a Sloth demon on our hands." Anders grinned like a boy, despite the crinkly lines round his eyes, and the touches of grey in his blond hair. "Either way, it should be fun."
Alistair rolled his eyes. Anders had spent several years, when they were both younger, acting as Court Mage, and they were old friends. "Fun, he says. Last time I met a Sloth demon, it trapped me in the Fade. I'm not falling for that again."
"We'll have to be very, very, quick to put him down, then. If we're not quick enough, he'll zonk us out. If that happens," the mage's grin became wider, "then we get to see who has the most self-discipline, eh? Find out which of us can resist the visions of nubile young women, catering to our every need."
The King goggled at his friend, and then dropped his head in his hands. "Oh Maker, I am so screwed. I'll be doing this alone, won't I?"
The Prince went on farther. All was so still that he could hear his own breathing.
"The demon is in the next room, I can feel it," murmured Alistair, and instructed his guard in their role, while the Wardens made their own preparations. "Ready?" At the series of nods, the Captain flung open the door and the guards charged, hoping to distract the demon long enough for Anders to get it under some form of control. Alistair began to gather his will to prevent it from casting, but before their strategy could take effect he felt his legs go weak, as the Demon rumbled a twisted lullaby.
"Oh, blast it."
Alistair sat in his favourite chair in the Mess at the Denerim compound. They had just returned from a long mission, to clear out a darkspawn nest in the Bannorn. He'd had a hot meal and an even hotter bath, and the aches were gently easing out of his muscles. In the chair opposite sat Duncan, reading through the dispatches that arrived while they were away. Laughter came from a long table across the way, where the other Wardens had begun a card tournament, and bets were being placed. Alistair felt languorous, sleepy, with the satisfied glow of a job well done, and a good night's rest ahead. He could stay here forever, right where he belonged.
"What, not even one, single, nubile woman? I'm disappointed in you, Alistair." The smiling mage was in warden robes, but didn't look the same as everyone else. He looked more real somehow, more solid. "Anyway, I win on the self-discipline, it seems, so let's get out of here, hmm?"
At last he opened the door into the place where the Princess was asleep. There she lay; looking so beautiful that he could not take his eyes off her. He bent down and gave her a kiss. As he touched her, Sleeping Beauty opened her eyes and smiled up at him.
They fought their way through the labyrinth, freeing those people they came across. Only Anders, who understood the Fade, and Alistair, who had been in this situation before, seemed able to maintain their grip on the Fade after being freed from their visions. The others vanished, presumably back to reality. The two of them worked together well, magic and steel cutting through any who opposed them. The Sloth Demon's domain was weakening, the Queen, most of the Rivaini delegation and the household staff had been found and freed. Only the Princess and the Rivaini Prince remained. When they came to the next little pocket of fake reality, Alistair's eyes softened at what he saw there.
The last time he'd seen his teenage daughter she'd been rebellious, scornful of adult authority, screaming that she wouldn't be married off like a thing. Now, she was curled up like a child, one hand round the neck of the man in whose lap she sat, her head trustingly on his shoulder, asleep. The man looked up, and put his finger to his lips. Alistair looked into his own eyes, and smiled through his tears.
Throughout the castle, everyone and everything woke up, and looked at each other with astonished eyes. Within the month, the Prince and Sleeping Beauty were married, and they lived happily all their lives.
"Andraste's knickers," swore Anders. "Wow, are you ever in trouble." He cracked up laughing.
Alistair followed to where his friend was doubled up, tears streaming down his face, and gaped at the vision before him. His face reddened, his eyebrows snapped down in sudden anger. "Andraste's flaming sword, Anders. That is not funny." The mage wheezed, and utterly failed to control his hilarity.
They stood in a plush bedchamber, dominated by a massive four poster bed. In its comfortable depths were the dark-haired, swarthy-skinned Rivaini Prince, and a somewhat more curvaceous version of the Royal Princess. They appeared to be… enjoying themselves. A lot. Alistair strode over to the bed, and grabbed a chunk of the Prince's hair, raising his head up. He tried not to look at his daughter's body writhing on the bed. "What, in all the deepest, darkest corners of the Fade, do you think you're doing?" he roared.
The Prince's face was beatific, dreamlike, his blissful gaze fixed on the woman below him. "Living happily ever after," he smiled.