Blind cat-Check

Two hellions-Check

Closet full of typo gremlins-Check

Copyright ownership? Damn, I knew I was forgetting something...

The towers of Redcliffe castle can be seen from the route we are taking when Alistair interrupts everyone's conversations to stop for lunch. I try to ask him if something is wrong after tethering the horses, but he gives me a grim look and pulls me a ways away from our cluster of companions.

I allow him to drag me about fifty yards before digging my heels into the clay infused dirt, "That's enough with the pushing me around Alistair, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"We need to talk," the warrior grumbles, his gaze firmly fixed on something over my shoulder, "It's something I should have told you a long time ago but I never-I couldn't work it out, how to say it to you I mean."

"Let me guess, you're an idiot," I can't help but snap after dealing with his mood swings the past few days.

"Yep, that's it. I stopped to tell you that I am an idiot. Thank the Maker you realized that, now I can stop worrying. By the way, you are so cute when you're being sarcastic," he lets out a dark chuckle before taking my hand and pressing a kiss into the palm, "I erm, remember how I told you that I was raised by Arl Eamon before his new wife got jealous and had me sent away to the Chantry?"

"Yes, I remember quite vividly," I chortle, recalling the particular words he used to describe the Arl's bride, "Is this where you're going to tell me that you're Eamon's son or something?"

"Or something," he muses before aiming his chocolate and mint swirled orbs at me, "My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe and my father had a dalliance with her when he came to visit his brother-in-law. Nine months later, cue the celestial chorus and minstrels, little Alistair was born as his mother took her last breath."

"I'm sorry Ali," I tell him genuinely, not knowing what else I should say.

"Okay here's the thing. I'm a bastard, and before you start with the jokes, I mean the kind royalty has, that kings have," he gushes, looking more nervous with every word, "King Maric was my father."

I stretch up onto my tip toes and kiss him with all that I have before leaning back and patting his cheek, "I know, but thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this."

"You knew?" he yowls, shrinking from my touch, "You knew and let me blabber on like some feeble brained moron? Heeyyy...how did you know?"

"Hi, I'm the bastard son of a king, want to have dinner with me?" I repeat the words I'd heard what seems like a lifetime ago.

The Templars face turns a few different shades of red, some of which I don't think there are names for, "You heard that?"

"Mm-hmm," I hum, enjoying this too much to let him off the hook so easily, "If I remember correctly, you also said that facing hordes of darkspawn was easier than trying to court me. Now that you've had a bit of practice at doing both, do you still believe that?"

Under my amused gaze, he buries his face in his hands, "I can't believe you heard that Lex. Did you also hear how he basically ordered me to keep mum about it until after the battle?"

"Yes I did, that's why I kept quiet as well," I qualify as I try to pry his hands away from his face, "But not a few minutes later, when he came in to check on me, he asked me to take care of you and I could make good on my promise of making his life a living hell, as long as I kept making you smile."

"So..are you trying to tell me that it's not a big deal for you?"

I cup his cheek affectionately, "Ali, I am an exiled noble, the last of my line, from a family who has had all titles and lands stripped from her because Rendon Howe and Loghain Mac Tir said we were traitors. To make things better, or worse, depending on your view, I was proclaimed dead after both the attack on my house and what happened at Ostagar. You could have told me that you were born to a circus performer and a cross dressing prostitute for all I care who your parentage stems from."

"I usually tell people that I was raised by dogs," he smirks, placing his hand over mine and leaning down to lightly brush his lips against my own, "It really doesn't bother you that I'm the bastard son of a king and quite possibly the heir to the throne?"

"Well, maybe the thought of doing something less than virtuous with said royal bastard is a bit thrilling," I confess with my own ornery smirk plastered on my face.

"Hhmm, I think I might have found something good in this after all," he snickers and kisses me again.

"So...were does that leave me then?" I prod as we turn to start back to the group, our hands still linked.

"The reason any of this is bearable," the man at my side confesses without blushing for once, "But now that we have all the warm and fuzzy stuff over with, we can get back to the ritual dismember—wait, it's not Tuesday is it?"

"I think so, why?"

He taps his chin thoughtfully for a moment, "Because on Tuesdays we only steal and ravish exiled nobles, have any handy?"

"I might be able to think of one or two you can use," I nudge him with my shoulder and pull him forward.

"My dear Wardens, I'm glad to see that you've resolved your little lover's spat," Zevran greets as we rejoin our companions, "I was beginning to feel a little strange with all of the eyes pointed at me. I felt like I should be doing tricks or dancing to the bard's music, not that I mind either of these, but would there be any objections if I did them naked? It's what I'm used to."

"It would serve you well to keep your lecherous thoughts to yourself," my overprotective warrior snarls while placing himself in between the elf and I, "The only reason you continue to have the ability to make those comments is because Lex sees something good in you. I think she's a bit naive for it, but I respect her wishes as long as you behave yourself Crow."

"Naive or no, I think that the lady Warden is perfectly capable of telling me herself if she is offended by my words, no?" Zevran blatantly winks at me, then turns on his heel and struts away.

"I really don't like him Lex."

"Actually, he reminds me of my brother in a lot of ways," I glumly confess as I follow him over to a fallen tree and take a seat next to him, "Fergus was always saying lewd things to get a rise out of our parents."

"The knife ear should know how to treat a lady," Alistair argues...wrong thing to say to me though.

I jump to my feet and spin around to face him, "Andraste's knickers Alistair, I would have thought that you, of all people, knew better than to throw around such prejudicial words like knife ear. I should have known better though, considering the way you treat Morrigan because she refuses to become a glorified lapdog to the Chantry. I am so-so disgusted with you that I can't even find the words!"

He calls after me as I tromp into the wooded area we've stopped by, but I disregard his pleas as more judgmental garbage and continue on my way. I march onward until I come across a semi flat rock. There, I crawl up its side and flop down in less than a lady like fashion.

"Stupid...hypocritical...racist...asshole!" I wail towards the sky, still incensed that the man I'm quickly falling for having such radically different views as the ones I was raised with.

In my family it didn't matter what you were, it mattered what kind of person you were. My parents had clashed with Nan more than once with how she treated the elves employed in our manor, they were so adamant about people of all races being treated equally.

"Dirty words falling from such decadent lips, I think I like it," the elf in question comments as he clamors over the edge of the rock and seats himself at my side. In reality, I should be afraid of such unchaperoned proximity with the assassin, but his oath is still fresh in my mind so I feel nothing but calm acceptance of his presence.

"What do you need Zevran?" I pinch the bridge of my nose in hopes of willing away the headache that has begun to invade my head.

"I wanted to thank you. Not many humans are so, what is the word? Ah yes, gracious, when it comes to other races," he qualifies from under the cowl of his black cloak, "Do I truly remind you of your brother?"

"Yes you do," I stare down at my hands as I pick up a dead leaf and shred it, "Fergus was a natural flirt as well and had a tendency to say the most perverted things to people because he thought it was funny."

One pale eyebrow raises in curiosity, "You said was, does that mean..."

I nod once, "Most likely. He was sent into the Korcari Wilds with five others to scout out the darkspawn army just before the battle at Ostagar...he never returned..."

"Then I shall make a second promise to you dearest Alexa," in the far edge of my vision, I see him put one fine boned hand over his heart, "From this moment forward, I shall be the best substitute for your brother that I possibly can be."

"Thank you Zevran," I tell him truthfully and, on a whim, lay my head on his shoulder, "I need something to distract me Zev, tell me about your beloved Antiva."

"As long as you don't scold me about some lurid and less than innocent dreams I may have from time to time about my little sister," he quips and launches into the first of many tales about his life in his far off country.

"Lex, Zevran, where are you? We're getting ready to head down into the village!" Leliana's Orlesian lilt intrudes upon the Crow's exciting tale about his involvement in the assassination of a prince.

The barest hint of a smile graces Zevrans' lips at the sound of her voice. I refuse to let an opportunity to tease him pass by. "You like her, don't you?"

He shrugs noncommittally but his grin broadens, "What can I say? She's perfect for a monster such as myself and is nearly as gorgeous as my little sister."

"Then you might want to get it in her head now that there is nothing going on between us," I warn as he lithely stands and pulls me up after him, "I've noticed that she can get a bit...possessive about things on occasion."

Zevran extends a hand and helps me down from the rock, "And what will you tell your fellow Warden then? He bears those same qualities my dear."

My indignation with the Templar surges to the surface, eclipsing my more amorous emotions, and I grunt, "He can go fuck a nug for all I care right now. I've washed my hands of him until he learns to treat people better."

My war hound greets our quartet on the walk back, running happy circles around us and fetching the stick we take turns throwing for him as we go. When we emerge from the treeline, I can feel Alistair's morose hazel orbs on me, yet I refrain from sparing a single glance in his direction. I know that if I did, I'd forgive him anything, and I refuse to let myself be compromised like that no matter how much he means to me.

Predictably, he tries to approach me as we mount our horses, but I manage to avoid him by placing my horse between Morrigan and Sten.

"Trouble in paradise?" Morrigan questions after Alistair tries and fails for the fourth time to get my attention.

"He's a judgmental bigot and I don't have the time to deal with his close-mindedness," I answer coolly but loud enough for my words to easily be heard by the warrior, "Maybe if he can prove to me that he isn't the racist pig that I encountered today, I may give him the chance to speak to me. If not...I'm better off without his holier than thou opinions of people that I've come to call my friends."

"Is that a man standing on the bridge?" Leliana asks, holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the afternoon sun, "Oh dear, it is!"

"Help!" I hear on the wind, carried from the figure on the bridge.

"Great, here we go again," I deadpan, reaching back to draw my blades.

Two chapters in one day? Yep, so you'd better be thanking the family for fending for themselves tonight so I could get this finished.