I love Alistair, I really do. But wooooowwwww, he sometimes makes it so hard to continue to love him. ARG, give that boy EVERYTHING and what does he do? Break your heart however he can.

Anyways, this drabble takes place uh…sometime during my Alistair/Aeducan "Of a Kind" snippet series. No, reading that is not OMFG!!!vital prerequisite for reading this. Not that I'll stop you, of course. :)

That said, I really wish this had been an option for mages…

I Don't Care Who Started It…

a Dragon Age drabble-fic by Risu Yoru

"Sweet is revenge--especially to women."

~Lord Byron

Alistair was missing.

Lana didn't seem to care.

Well, no, that wasn't quite right. Lana did seem…different. She sat on her bedroll, humming what Leliana recognized to be an old dwarven drinking song as she filed down the blade of her sword. A smile kept tugging at the corners of her mouth. Lana appeared…giddy.

Leliana had never seen Lana in such high spirits. The dwarf always looked so sad and so alone and so lost. Unlike the other members of their party, Leliana knew part of Lana's secret. She knew what it meant to be an Aeducan. She knew that their party of Blight-enders was being led by a dwarven princess. But if Lana had not told the others of her heritage, then Leliana would keep that confidence. Lana surely had a reason for not explaining how or why a dwarf noble—the daughter of the king!—was on the surface, fighting for Ferelden. But Leliana had faith that all would be revealed in good time.

However, that did nothing to explain where Alistair was.

Or why no one seemed to care.

Maybe everyone was just happy with the silence? Alistair had been so moody lately. Lana had made a decision for the party and while everyone else seemed content to follow her orders, he had not. There had been several shouting matches between the two of them with the most recent one this morning. Something about "how-could-she-as-a-Grey-Warden-do-such-a-thing" and "there-are-bigger-things-at-stake-than-just-the-arl-alistair" and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Leliana had stepped into the woods (not quite hiding per se, but really not having a desire to be found) just to get away from the noise.

When she had returned, Alistair was gone.

Oh, his pack was still by his tent! The bedroll was still rumpled. His armor was even there! Off to the side lay his sword and shield. Just no Alistair. So wherever he was, he had no armor or weapons or food or bandages or anything. He could be in great danger! He could have been captured! He could have been eaten! He could be dying and by the Maker no one in the camp seemed to care!!!

"Whereishe??" Leliana blurted.

Lana raised her eyes from her sword, "Where's…who?" she asked.

"Alistair!" Leliana said, pointing frantically at his tent and supplies, "He was here this morning and now he's just left everything behind! We need to look for him! It's not safe out there without any sort of protection! We need him!"

"Oh, I know," Lana said with a slight shrug as she went back to her filing, "But Alistair's perfectly okay, I assure you."

"But he's not here!"

Lana actually giggled.

And then, Leliana saw…it. Next to Lana's bedroll was a small cast iron pot that Leliana immediately recognized as Morrigan's.

Oh, Maker, no…

With trembling fingers, Leliana lifted the pot's lid and peeked in. A squat, very indignant looking yellow toad looked back up at her. She shrieked and dropped the pot lid with a clang.

Lana was laughing now, having completely given up on sharpening her sword. From inside the pot, Toad!Alistair made a low croak.

"How…how could you let her…?" Leliana whispered, horrified.

Lana shrugged again and gave the pot a friendly pat, "Does it matter?" she asked sweetly, "Morrigan let me have the last word."

~The End!