Chapter two is here very quickly, but don't assume that the quick updates will continue - it's my last week at college this year and I'm flying home for Christmas pretty soon, so there will be other stuff that needs doing, other than fanfiction writing. Even if said fanfiction writing involves my possibly most favorite not-really-canon ship from DA.

The true shenanigans will begin soon, because I want to set stuff up first, but rest assured that I already have ideas that will be cute and awkward (they practically scream Alistair) and some steamier stuff for Zevran. I still haven't decided what the actual OTP of this story will be, so I'm very much open for input, but I really think that'll just be decided as I write.

I love Wynne, so this chapter involves lots of her. Plus, Leliana still needs more love… originally, Morrigan was supposed to have a scene with Nimue, but that got moved to the next part. Fangirls, worry not, Alistair and Zevran will both make their grand appearance in the next chapter – so far, if you want to see them, check out Fracture, my other DA fic.

Anyway, chapter two: Wynne is called upon for grandmotherly advice and Leliana continues her plotting…

o.O.o

Presents Ever After

o.O.o

In general, Wynne approved of their group's decision to stay at Castle Redcliffe for a little while to recuperate and get some repairs done. She was perfectly happy to have some time to herself and actually get to sleep indoors once in a while. While camping was something she could get used to with the amount of practice she already had, there was something about having your own bed with actual pillows that was highly agreeable, especially when one got older.

This also meant that she wasn't obliged to spend every minute of the day in the vicinity of all of her companions. Not that she minded most of them – united by their quest, they usually got along relatively well – but it was a welcome break. Not to mention that she didn't have to patiently endure Alistair's attempts at cooking or his carefully whined pleas to mend his shirt or forgive the sneaky socks that somehow always ended up in someone's things, usually hers, for the simple reason that they needed mending.

The fact that they were also less likely to be subjected to the smell of an overeager warhound or a random darkspawn attack had its charm as well.

Which was why it was peculiar and a bit worrying to see Nimue practically burst into her room as if she had the archdemon itself at her heels. Said archdemon was apparently an unholy fuse of an ancient dragon and Leliana, though, because she had been given a full makeover, apparently.

Instead of her trusty staff, she had two uncomfortable-looking shoes in her hand, something that was to be displayed in a case somewhere and not walked around in; in short, something precisely according to the bard's tastes. She was wearing a long-sleeved gown of various shades of green. The color didn't really suit her, but it wasn't unpleasant to look at in combination with her hair down. It could also have something to do with the fact that she looked ready to start barricading the door before the Leliana-demon could burst in and finish its evil agenda.

"Wynne! Wynne, I need your help, something very, very urgent has come up!"

Despite clearly having run through the entire length of the castle, Nimue wasn't panting; strange, that, considering that she wasn't particularly athletic, especially in comparison to the warriors and rogues she travelled with.

The senior enchanter looked up from her half-finished book – for such a Maker-fearing attitude that Lady Isolde seemed to have, her husband was in possession of some excellent literature even on some mildly magic-oriented subjects – took in the peculiar sight with the nonchalance only experience could have given her and promptly returned her gaze to the text.

"If this is about me helping you assuage the cook that your dog broke into the larder simply to chase out an invasion of undead rats or something of the sort, I can hardly help you, Nimue."

Goodness knew that Rabbit was indeed the bane of any and every cook around, considering his highly developed sense of smell and keen intelligence, which always managed to get him in the vicinity of food, no matter what perils or obstacles he might face along the way.

The elf, however, shook her head almost violently, messing up her hair a little as the loose strands slapped around her face like a curtain. "No, this is more serious than a little canine mischief."

Little? Mischief? Those weren't words that most people would associate with more than a few dozen pounds of purebred mabari, for certain. Besides, considering the antics the dog usually got into, this had to be highly serious if it couldn't be fixed with simply a curious whine and his large and slightly quivering puppy eyes.

"Oh, dear. Not the butcher shop, I hope. Because there are limits to persuasion, you know. Perhaps we should just give him more food, wouldn't you say?" Wynne mused, closing her book. "It might be more costly, but it would save us a great deal of trouble."

Still, it wasn't like Nimue to get this upset about any kind of trouble; Wynne had seen her take much worse things in stride, which was a trait she both envied and wondered at. Apparently, it was a habit that had to be acquired if one wished to survive as a Grey Warden for long, otherwise the insanity of your profession could eventually get to you.

"This isn't about Rabbit at all. In fact, he's been pretty good recently." Wynne didn't allow herself the small snort that echoed through her mind. Oh, he was good indeed, whenever Nimue was around. Alistair insisted to this day that his hand hurt where the dog had bitten him whenever he got a little too close to the mabari's food stash. "But the problem! The situation is really, really problematic."

Now that was highly descriptive. And a bit worrying, considering that what Nimue lacked in physical prowess, she made up in persuasion (which required a way with words).

"Deep breaths, Nimue, calm down." The elf's head almost didn't come up even to Wynne's nose, making it a little easier to remember her youth and inexperience despite her usual leadership persona. It also helped that she, like a child would, calmed down a little bit at the soothing touch of hands placed on her shoulders to steady her. "You're starting to sound like Alistair."

"He only did that once when Morrigan showed up for the first time."

Wynne hadn't been there, so she couldn't judge on that account, but she could easily imagine the templar lapsing into this not so eloquent speech pattern when faced with someone like Morrigan in the Wilds. What she had been present for, however, were the many occasions when Alistair tried to enlist the assistance of another – usually herself or Leliana – to determine how to best approach Nimue regarding his feelings.

The fact that the elf still hadn't fully caught on the fact that the boy was obviously utterly smitten with her was either an astonishing feat of ignorance or the pretension of such. Wynne privately wondered how long that would last.

Instead of bringing this to the girl's attention, she settled for a smile. "You'd be surprised. But tell me about this tremendous problem of yours." she added before Nimue could question her, moving her towards the nearest seat. That had always helped with distressed apprentices.

"It's about Bann Teagan." Nimue said once seated, after taking a deep breath.

This caught Wynne a little off-guard; she wouldn't have expected panic to be the elf's first reaction to a man. Especially not one of the usual and predictable suspects. If this were about her realizing affection for Alistair, Wynne could very calmly (with just a touch of amusement, of course) have assured her that to make the templar fall in love with her, she only had to give him another bright smile. On the other hand, if she had finally become traumatized by the highly expressive flirting Zevran was apparently always saving for her, the senior enchanter could suggest several threats that may or may not work (they hadn't for her, really, but it would serve to calm Nimue, so it might be worth a try).

But she had no idea why the woman who could blissfully ignore timid flirting while facing brazen overtures with a surprisingly sharp wit seemed so panicky because of a man who had been nothing but courteous and gentlemanly to them all.

"Ah, the arl's brother. A most agreeable man. Why would there be a problem? I was under the impression that he liked you." In fact, Wynne was also under the impression that he was also considering more serious intentions than those that might cross the minds of the two clowns currently competing for Nimue's attention.

The younger mage seemed torn between giving a short, rueful laugh and returning to the blissful state of thoughtless panic. "He does. That's why he's asked me to marry him." Instead, she settled for brutal honesty.

"He-" Even Wynne, who had been prepared for almost anything, froze at this sudden news. Everything that had gone through Nimue's mind within the span of the time since the proposal and now was imagined by the older woman in a few instances, including the implications. "Nimue, are you serious?"

Astonishingly, the nod she received in response contained no hint of uncertainty. "I asked him the same thing, believe me."

"That's… oh, my." Wynne was actually momentarily at a loss for words. It was a very definite move. "This is certainly… well, not entirely unexpected, but most sudden."

Sudden, not entirely, unexpected, most certainly, but also quite understandable. Wynne could see the reasoning behind it when considered from the point of view of a man of good character and well within marriageable age when faced with a candidate he found agreeable. After all, there was no telling when they might see each other again, so it was better to lay down the cards now – and Teagan obviously thought very highly of Nimue, as the hero of Redcliffe and a person as well if he was indeed offering such a thing.

Perhaps he had even noticed the potential complications waiting might bring – certainly Nimue would be faced with other suitors, from within her circle of companions and from outside – and intended to secure her attention (if not affection) early on, despite their eventual separation.

The motherly part of Wynne actually approved of this old-fashioned way of binding people and things together with a promise; Nimue, being the kind of person to never promise things lightly so that she could manipulate the situation for her own benefit, wouldn't go back on her word once she had given it. Assuming she would give it.

"I asked for a little time to decide… said that I would give him an answer before we left for Denerim, since we have to return to Redcliffe after we deal with the Dalish anyway." Nimue continued, studying her hands with pretended fascination. She tried entirely too hard not to imagine that the Guerrein family crest had been on her finger only hours previously, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I just… I don't know what I should do."

And she was asking another lifelong child of the Circle for advice on the matter? Wynne smiled warmly, hiding her wryness. It was actually a little sad that she was indeed the closest person to a parent or a guardian – or at least someone who could offer useful guidance on the matter – that Nimue had at this point.

Truthfully, who else would advise her somewhat impartially?

And so I don't know how to answer.

'Tis an interesting proposal, despite its binding nature. I would suggest marrying the man, if only to secure your independence from the Circle. Then you can simply keep him enthralled, should he stray.

You've been married, so what do you think?

Aye, well, it's for suckers, but if that's what you wanna do, you could do much worse than a sodding noble. By the ancestors, would some of the noble hunters in Orzammar envy you. And you don't even have to get a bellyful of his kid.

I'm thinking of saying yes.

So you intend to go back to being a woman once the darkspawn are defeated. Perhaps you aren't as irrational as the rest of your kin seems to be.

Is it a good idea?

If it seeks to reproduce like other organics, the hound noble seems a suitable candidate. It killed some of the undead birds in the castle, so the creation of more similar-minded creatures can only be beneficial for this world.

Should I go for it?

Ooooh, you certainly have to! We'll have a wonderful outdoor wedding with lots of flower garlands – lilies maybe, that would suit you quite well. I can already imagine what shade of fabric we need to get for your wedding dress!

Wynne stopped her train of thought right there, because continuing it would mean trying to delve into what bachelors number two and three would have to say on the matter, and the elderly enchantress didn't really think she had the mental capacity to survive the horror of such thinking.

"Well, that depends." In the end, she chose the same approach as she had employed when Alistair had asked her to pretend that she was a woman being told by someone that he was in love with her. That had yet to yield results, of course, but perhaps Nimue would be a little more receptive. "I will need a little context if I am to be of any help to you, though."

This time, Nimue actually laughed. "Context? What context? He complimented me a few times and we had several pleasant conversations, but marriage?" In the moment when she obviously imagined the full implications of that word, her face was both ashen and wistful. "I… I really don't know."

"Considering that you didn't shoot the idea down straight away, I believe you are at least mildly intrigued by the concept."

"Wynne, he proposed marriage to me." Nimue said, with a glance that plainly suggested that he might as well have asked her if she had ever tried getting a hurlock to realize that what it was doing was wrong. "I was more stunned than intrigued."

"You've had a little time to calm down and deal with the idea, I imagine. Now, let's take this issue apart a little, shall we?" Wynne suggested, because she was intrigued herself about this sudden development. Certainly the Bann was a good man and Nimue seemed to like him, but that gave very little information on its own. "You've said you find him pleasant company."

To that, she received a response without any hint of hesitation. "Yes. He's the kind of man nobles like to imagine themselves as, I believe. And he doesn't resent me for being a mage. Well, that much is obvious, I guess."

If the four obvious red alarms in choosing her as a wife didn't deter him – those being, in order of importance: mage, elf, commoner, Grey Warden – then he was certainly the most open-minded noble Wynne had ever encountered. Of course, the fact that Nimue herself was rather exceptional in various ways could have helped on that account.

"I understand. Now, since you haven't protested on that account, I'll assume that you find his appearance as pleasing as his conversation." Nimue said nothing, but her complexion wasn't nearly as pasty as it had been a few moments ago. That was a yes, then. "He is a little older than you, I understand, but not so much as to pose a problem to the concept of marriage. From this, I gather that you like him and perhaps even care a little."

"Yes." Nimue said with a nod. Though his courteous behavior towards her puzzled her at times because it was just so uncustomary, she could freely admit to liking Teagan – after all, one of the impulses she had felt after the proposal had been the wild impulse to kiss him, which she certainly wasn't used to feeling towards anyone. If he had the courage to ask for her hand in marriage, wasting time with evasiveness and embarrassment would be pointless.

"Good, we're making progress." Wynne proceeded to move on to the next crucial point. "He's offering you marriage despite having considered your race, social status and possible inability to have children."

"I forgot about the last one, but I mentioned the first two as my primary concerns. He just… swept both off the table as if it were nothing." The elf looked genuinely bewildered, but also a little charmed as the full extent of the gesture was drawing on her. "Though he did say that I wouldn't be an actual titled noble, were I to say yes."

Wynne, who was a little more familiar with how titles worked among the nobility, was reminded of that as well. That explained and justified part of this blasé attitude to the problems of having Nimue for a wife, but took no amount of impressiveness away from the gesture as a whole.

"Ah, yes. By virtue of that, Bann Teagan has many more options when it comes to selecting a possible wife. There is one last issue, though; your duty." And here Wynne had been planning to remind the girl that love forged in the fires of battle might burn out just as quickly as it had sprung up. "He knows that you are a Grey Warden and cannot forswear that allegiance."

And here was a man who seemed to fully understand this duty and intended to wait for it to be temporarily over before claiming her as his own. Compared to the other potential candidates… now she was getting a little biased, Wynne realized.

"It didn't change his opinion." Nimue didn't really know if she actually could replicate the touching words that seemed to give her far more credit than she was worth.

"Well, this certainly is a most intriguing offer you've been presented with. Not many a man would be willing to marry a mage… but I can understand the decision." Wynne nodded to herself. In one fell swoop, he could make certain that the hero of Redcliffe was rewarded to an unrivalled degree, ensure that his position and his land was more secure than ever and bind himself to a woman he held in affection. "Yes, I believe this is all the information I need."

"What am I supposed to do?" For a person who had stood up to the bickering nobles of Orzammar without even batting an eyelash, Nimue certainly had her weaknesses. Fortunately, not the kind darkspawn were likely to exploit, unless they managed to produce a visually-altered infiltrator who could try to win her over… well, it was unlikely, not to mention not entirely sane or natural, so Wynne decided not to go there.

Instead, she leaned forward a bit in her chair, trying one of her more reassuring smiles on the Warden.

"Child, you cannot think that I would be able to answer for you. This is your life, your happiness in question. It's no doubt a daunting concept, marriage; we mages are discouraged from it, though mostly because it's highly unlikely that anyone but another mage would wish to marry us. But if what you say reflects Bann Teagan's feelings, then it would be very foolish of you not to consider the offer."

The frown that Zevran kept criticizing as unbecoming of her was back in place, giving the elf a slightly older appearance.

"Would you accept it, were you in my place?" she asked finally, twisting the question around to wheedle at least some kind of advice out of her companion.

Wynne laughed a little. "Were I what, thirty years younger and a lady of war such as yourself? I would certainly be tempted." she admitted. "He's an exceptional man; loyal, willing to brave anything for those he loves and apparently very open-minded." In a way, he was even similar to how the father of her son used to be, but Nimue didn't need to be burdened with ancient stories right now. "If I were in love with someone else, though, that would certainly be something to consider before making a final decision…"

The elf blinked, not really catching the hint. "Someone else? You think someone else could contact temporary insanity?"

"I'd take that possibility into account." While it could very well be simply idealized infatuation, Wynne didn't doubt that this news wouldn't leave Alistair unaffected. She kept a mental question mark near Zevran at all times, but she seriously doubted the assassin would be as emotionally involved in this as the former. "In any case, marriage is anything but temporary, so if he is indeed smitten enough with you to offer that, the intentions are entirely serious."

"I know." Surprisingly, Nimue was fully aware of this. She wasn't a great believer in the Maker, partly due to her race and partly due to seeing what fanaticism could do to a person, but she understood the binding factor of such a thing. Moreover, he had said wife; not betrothed. Wife. "Do you think I should say yes?"

"I think you should go back to your room, have a nice, long bath and not fret so much about it." Wynne said, smiling still and ushering the elf towards the door. "Then, once you're done, we can talk again at dinner."

o.O.o

Nimue wisely chose to follow this wise advice to the letter, walking to her room barefoot and asking the ever-present servants to prepare a bath for her. Peculiar as it was to have actual attendants for your every need, she knew she could very easily get used to this, given enough time.

In any case, she was glad to be able to get out of the damnable dress, even though it required the help of a second pair of hands to get it off without getting all tangled in the laces.

She did fret. Just a little, though, because, as time passed, she realized that she had asked for time until they left for Denerim, which was still quite a ways away. And that gave her time to consider things.

Marriage. Having a husband, possibly children, if they tried hard enough. Living a normal life, with people addressing her with respect instead of fear. It almost didn't seem real even then. But she could imagine it, and part of her found herself wishing for it. Of course, as a Grey Warden, her life would never be entirely normal, but this could be the closest to it she would ever get.

After a discreet knock that woke Nimue from her reverie, one of the Arlessa's maids walked in. It was in fact Valena, the smith's daughter they had saved previously, now no longer shrieking in fear at the sight of her. In fact, of the staff, it seemed that the girl was the one most eager to serve their guests, which was saying something, considering the near boot-licking most of the servants seemed to be willing to indulge in towards their saviors.

"Package for the lady Warden." she announced it almost regally, bringing in a medium-sized and carefully-wrapped parcel.

Nimue, who had been almost ready to get out of her bath and try to find something less elaborate to wear for dinner, nodded graciously. "Thank you, but I wasn't aware I was going to get anything."

"I was told it's for tonight, so I assume it's clothing for you, milady." Valena explained, "Your robes are still being repaired, along with the rest of the clothing and equipment."

Damnation. That meant that the servant was right and Lady Isolde was still trying her best to play Dress Up the Mage as a way of making her feel welcome.

"Could you open it for me? I don't want to get it wet and might need to send it back."

"As you wish." Valena unwrapped the package as if it might explode if she as much as touched it the wrong way. Once she was done with it, the texture of a cloth became obvious and then when she unfolded it, it was revealed that it was indeed another gown, though simpler and perhaps a bit lighter than the monstrosity she had been forced to run around in. "Here, milady, this was with it." the girl added, fishing a piece of paper out of the folds of fabric.

Nimue took the note between two fingers, careful not to soak it and smudge the ink. It wasn't any message or hint, simply a well-wish for someone else.

To my darling Rowan, in honor of this happiest of days, from your loving father Rendorn

The blanks were easy to fill in, even though someone had obviously forgotten to remove this before sending it to her.

"I can't wear this." Nimue said immediately. Not in a million years. Just… no.

"Oh, but you must." Valena, on the other hand, seemed utterly charmed with the gown, even though she wouldn't be the one who got to wear it. That she hadn't read the note helped. In a moment, she reminded Nimue of Leliana, who would no doubt have a field day with this. "Presents such as this can hardly be refused."

"This is Lady Isolde's doing, isn't it?"

"Milady wishes to make amends for her previous behavior." Valena parroted, a little puzzled.

But that wasn't it at all and it didn't answer her question at all, Nimue thought as she climbed out of the bath, dried herself off and proceeded to collect her underwear. This was either a vicious manipulative ploy or something far more devious than that: mischief.

o.O.o

While Nimue was trying her best to dissuade Valena from dressing her up like a doll, Leliana was busy seeking out a little more information and deciding what to do with this.

She had suspected that the arl's brother was rather intrigued by Nimue, but she certainly wouldn't have expected a proposal! It was a bold move and no matter what the elf chose to say, it would greatly affect their general party dynamics.

Oh, she could already imagine Alistair's reaction at being told that the woman he was so innocently in love with was going to become his step-aunt.

Now, the question was, what to do with this information at her disposal? She supposed she could tease Alistair with cryptic hints, but that sounded a little too cruel. Instigating a conversation with Zevran would likely mean that the elf would assume that she had changed her mind about the whole "maybe I'd sleep with you if you were the last man in Ferelden, possibly Thedas" thing and respond in his usual manner. Besides, it was a little more entertaining if they remained in the dark for just a little while longer.

Instead, she scouted around a bit to see if she could find out a little more about things, but didn't spot any servants gossiping about this sudden proposal of marriage. Apparently, it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. Which added to the whole romance part of the equation.

Well, since Oghren would doubtless ruin the suspense a little too soon and none of the others would offer any helpful input, Leliana concluded that only one source of information remained for her. After all, Nimue was bound to confide in someone when faced with something so alien to her and if she hadn't sought out the bard herself, that left only a single option (Alistair didn't count in this case, because he would likely choke on any words of advice he might wish to give when faced with this situation).

"Nimue has told you, hasn't she?" The bard entered Wynne's room with such a large grin on her face that it was impossible to even be angry with her for this sudden barging in. "About the proposal."

Wynne wasn't altogether surprised by this, but she did raise a reproachful eyebrow at the young Orlesian. "Leliana, I thought you had given up spying on people."

"For money, yes. For the purpose of helping them, no." the redhead noted impishly. If her expression was anything to go by, then Wynne's assessment had indeed been correct and she was going through possible tiaras for Nimue's wedding in her mind. "Besides, this doesn't really count; I just happened to be passing by when it happened. But she came to you, no? You are the closest thing to a mother figure she has."

Mages, separated from the rest of society as they were, had to be a little closer to an actual family than the rest of the world gave them credit for. After all, who else did they have?

"That's kind of you to say, but I don't think I can offer any motherly advice on the matter." After all, Wynne herself may have had a child and lovers, but none had proposed to her, for practical reasons. "What I will say is that Lady Isolde certainly isn't as foolish as she was with regards to her son's magic, assuming she realizes the chance this presents her with." Who else could have provided Nimue with the gown and with so little fuss, after all?

"Or perhaps she doesn't see the fact that there is a very small probability of this working out as she would like, no?" Leliana suggested, following this train of thought easily. In Isolde's shoes, she would be highly supportive of having a trained mage in her family as a tutor for her precious son. "Nimue wouldn't be able to take the boy from the Circle without the Right of Conscription and Maker knows that such an excuse would be called out."

"I am more concerned for Nimue herself." Wynne noted, frowning. It was good to discuss this with someone else who also knew the full extent of the chessboard and the position of its various figures. "If those two react the way I expect them to, this could get complicated."

"Those two? Aah, I understand." Alistair, who looked at her as if she were the true reborn Andraste. And Zevran, patiently watching for any sign of faltering resolve for the moment to press on and have her. Leliana herself would have been interested, but knew that Nimue's apparent ignorance of the male gaze upon her wasn't due to a preference of women (after all, they did have the occasional girl talk, even if the elf usually took some coaxing). "Still, it will be a grand game."

"You would consider it a game?"

"Why not?" The bard shrugged. "A race, maybe. The final decision is up to Nimue, in any case, so there is no harm in trying to influence it just a little bit."

"You are taking this surprisingly lightly." Considering what Wynne knew of the Orlesian court, this wasn't entirely unusual, but it was a bit peculiar to see it applied to the love triangle (or square? Circle? Was there a shape for the current situation?) their leader seemed determined to remain unaware of.

"It isn't as if either of us can stop them in any way, Wynne." Leliana pointed out reasonably, softening her voice a little. She meant no harm, being innocence itself. Still… "Since we signed up for this adventure, we might as well enjoy the ride."

o.O.o

Coming soon – chapter three: dinner at Castle Redcliffe turns out to be a surprising affair when Nimue enters in an actual dress and the beginning of a conflict is established…

Featuring all the already-present cast, plus Eamon, Isolde and Connor, plus, more importantly, Alistair, Zevran, Oghren and (if we're lucky) a small appearance courtesy of Morrigan as well!