Note: My take on one of the in-game conversations between the Warden and Alistair.


Alistair sat across the fire from Myazda, munching on bread while she enjoyed a mug of ale. Where the dwarf even got said ale was a mystery insofar as Alistair was concerned. The Redcliffe tavern maybe?

Myazda took a large swig of the ale as Leliana sat next to her, tuning her lute, and occasionally taking a bite of bread.

Wynne sat off to the side, reading The Rose of Orlais, a book which Myazda had gifted to her upon her joining of the little band of misfits they had dragged together.

Myazda's eyes roved lazily around, and she swayed a bit. What was this? Her fifth mug? Alistair had to give the dwarf credit for being able to hold her alcohol.

Eventually, those roving eyes fell upon Alistair, and she took another draught of ale, before a drunken grin alighted her pale, round face.

"Sooo... Alistair. Has anyone... ever... told you... that you're handsome?"

Leliana's hand slipped and her lute emitted an awkward twang, and Alistair nearly choked on his bread while Wynne lowered her book slightly.

Alistair gave Myazda an incredulous stare, "You're... drunk."

She sniffed indignatly, "Am not. Answer the question."

Leliana giggled as Alistair blinked, "Not unless they were asking me for a favor. Well there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were..."he laughed awkwardly, "not like you," he paused, searching her face, and suddenly felt emboldened, "Why? Is this your way of telling me, you, think I'm handsome?"

By this point Wynne had pretended to continue reading, and Leliana had hunched over her lute, pretending to ignore the conversation, though she was listening intently.

Myazda crossed her arms, sloshing some of the ale out of her mug, and playfully turned her face away from him, "My lips are sealed."

By this point Alistair had gathered that she was definintely drunk, but was having too much fun to end the conversation. He grinned, "Oh I get it. I'll get it out of you yet."

"What is this? You are flirting without me?" Zevran had wandered over, grinning wolfishly as he ladled some of the stew bubbling over the fire into a bowl, "I must say, dear wardens, I am hurt."

Alistair scowled at him, and muttered, "You're about to be."

"Ah, so you're the jealous type, I see. I shall leave you to your flirting then. I'm sure I can rely upon Leliana to inform of all the details, yes?'

Leliana looked at him, expressionless, "I don't think Alistair would appreciate that. Nor Myazda when she sobers," she glanced at the dwarf who was utterly ignoring everybody but Alistair, resting her chin on her hand as she stared at him with hooded eyes, and smiled despite herself.

"No? Ah well. I suppose I shall have to find something else to entertain me," Zevran turned and left, chuckling quietly.

Alistair returned his attention to Myazda, "Look, Myazda, as much as I've enjoyed our little chat, you should probably give the ale a rest."

Myazda took another sip of the drink, "Nah."

"You are going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow, and we've got a lot of traveling to do," Alistair raised an eyebrow at her as she rolled her eyes and nearly toppled over.

Leliana gently took the mug from Myazda's hands, the dwarf offered little resistance, "I think Alistair is right, perhaps you should..." she trailed off as the dwarf slumped forward and reached to grab her as she began to slide from her seat.

Leliana smirked, "Clearly, our wonderful leader here needs some help getting to her tent, would you like to help her, Alistair?"

Alistair's eyes widened and his face flushed a deep red, "N-no, no, I'm sure you can do that," he coughed, "Oh! Look at the time, I've got to... uh- polish my armor! Yes, ah, see you tomorrow!" he hurriedly stood and rushed off, leaving a chuckling Wynne and Leliana behind to care for the drunken dwarf.


Myazda awoke the next morning with a dull ache pressing into her skull from all sides.

She groaned and rolled over, "Sodding swill. Why do I keep drinking it?" she grumbled.

She sighed, and pushed herself up, grabbing her armor and strapping it before exiting her tent and breaking it down.

The party ate breakfast and quickly got underway towards the Brecillian forest.

Myazda moved up to walk beside Alistair as she usually did.

He glanced at her and grinned wickedly, "Sooo... now that you're sober do you think I'm handsome?"

Myazda choked, "I'm sorry, what?"

He crossed his arms smugly, "Oh nothing, it's just that you get a bit... talkative... when you've had a few drinks."

Myazda's cheeks reddened.

"And you become very... flirty," his grin widened as Myazda's blush spread further.

She cleared her throat, "I take it, I um, made a comment on you being- ah, attractive then?" Myazda had never felt so embarrassed in her life. That's it. She was never drinking again. Ever.

At least he's not upset about it. Or freaked out.

"You did. Though, you never actually told me so. You're a decent flirt, you know," he paused and glanced at her. She was so red, he feared that if she blushed any further she might bleed, "And now that I've made you blush to the point of danger, I'd like to let you know that I'm just teasing you. You were drunk. We all say foolish things when we're drunk. I won't get too excited."

Myazda took a deep breath, "And sometimes the drunk are more inclined towards truth," she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them, "and now that I've said that, do you see a hole anywhere, I think I want to die in it."

Alistair was taken aback, "So you... actually think I'm handsome?"

Myazda had recovered somewhat and gave him a mischievous look, "Didn't you say I never actually told you?"

"Well, yes but..."

"So then what would be the fun in telling you now?" she smirked.

"Oh I don't know, I think it'd be pretty fun for me."

Myazda rolled her eyes, "I think you've had you're fill of fun making me blush."

Alistair huffed, "I suppose you're right," he paused, giving her a look, "But I swear to the Maker, I'll get it out of you eventually."