(AN: Well, I'm still alive guys...guys? Guys?

*sound of crickets chirping*

Well, I deserved that. Things have been crazy and I've had a few personal things come up, and trying to juggle work, life, various crisis's and the other story ZSNT has lead to this. I was really hoping that the summer would give me more time to update more frequently, but alas that was not to be. Then September rolled around and our conference season it, and here it is November almost gone. Six months, I think that's a new low. I'll try to be more on the ball to get chapters out, but realistically after MOTA it's probably going to be a once a month update, best case scenario. After the first of the year I may be able to get this out quicker, but we'll see...)

It was almost noon when Hawke and her band of companions arrived at gates of Chateau Haine, the road leading up to which was festooned with the yellow and azure banners sporting Duke Prosper's coat of arms. Michael squinted up at the sky, in spite of wearing his sunglasses. Ahead of them Orlesian nobles milled around the gates, and ahead of that was their mark, Duke Prosper. He glanced back at the elf assassin, Tallis.

"There's a reason they call the spy trade the hall of mirrors. You can never know for sure whether you're in control or you're being played, but if you do it long enough, you learn to trust your instincts. If your instincts tell you that you're walking into a trap, you have a choice: you can either wait for someone to spring the trap, not knowing when that will happen, or you can trigger it yourself and be prepared."

Michael shifted the G36 rifle so the sling wasn't digging into his shoulders. The new tan suit he had left packed away, so he was back in his 'work' clothes. The elf seamstress assured him that it would hold up to the worst that Kirkwall or Orlais had to offer, but he didn't want to ruin his only suit in this bizarre world. And, knowing Kitty, there would probably be a brawl or two even before they got into the duke's party.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a noble voice speak up.

"Andraste's Tits, Prosper! When is this going to get started?'

As Michael picked his way through the crowd he got his first glimpse at their quarry. The owner of the first voice was another noble, who was clearly impatient for the party to begin, but it was Duke Prosper that caught the ex-spy's attention. The duke was an older man with a forked beard and dressed elegantly in a richly embroidered doublet with armored pauldrons and a scarlet sash. His head was crowned with an equally ornate morion helm topped with peacock feathers, and it bobbed as he nodded.

"Presently!"

The duke turned to address the assembled crowd.

"Alright everyone, you know the tradition, yes? The first to find and slay a wyvern wins the honors of the evening, and bragging rights of course. Good luck to you all!"

As he finished speaking the duke saw a group of newcomers arrive. His grim-faced bodyguard turned and glared at the group's female leader, a youthful redhead wearing leather armor. Her green eyes sparkled as she spoke in a friendly voice.

"Hallo! Lovely weather for a hunt, isn't it? Very...outdoorsy, don't you agree?"

Michael rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. Hawke had a way with words, but in this case it seemed to have thrown the burly man off guard enough to get the duke's attention, who strode up.

"Ah, Lady Hawke! Welcome to my estate."

Prosper turned to the bodyguard.

"These are honored guests, let them pass."

The guard glared at Hawke, but turned and allowed them in. Duke Prosper chuckled.

"You must excuse Cahir, a polite bodyguard is a contradiction in terms, or so I am told."

Hawke's younger sister Bethany piped up.

"A chasind? Here?"

The duke smiled.

"Ah yes, you are Ferelden, aren't you? You would know of his people, wouldn't you."

Kitty shrugged.

"Well, I know of darkspawn too but I don't generally let them breathe on me."

At this the duke laughed again.

"Oh, he breathes on all the guests, think of it as a rite of passage!"

He turned his attention to Hawke's companions.

"And I see you brought assistance, armed and ready, wonderful!"

The duke's fell on Michael Westen, and he took in the ex-spy's odd clothes and his sleek weapon.

"And this must be the deadly Orlesian spy that even has the Qunari quaking in their boots!"

The redheaded rogue smiled.

"Oh, you shouldn't flatter him, your grace, he might think you're into him."

She paused for a moment.

"Oh, and incidentally, if you do swing that way, I'm afraid he's already taken."

The spy sighed inwardly at Kitty's flippant behavior, but if the duke was off-put by it, he didn't show it. On the contrary he let out a hearty laugh.

"Ah, your Amell wit does you credit, my lady."

He continued, and Michael could detect a glint in the old noble's eye as he spoke.

"I must say, Lady Hawke, that you RSVP'd to my invitation it came as a bit of a surprise. I didn't think that one who runs in Kirkwall's noble circles would find a wyvern hunt interesting."

Kitty glanced over to Michael.

"Oh, it's a favourite pastime of ours to find things and kill them, wouldn't you agree Michael?"

The burned spy shook his head.

"As it turns out, Prosper, I have not yet had the privilege of hunting a wyvern, so I convinced Hawke-"

He winced as the rogue pinched him.

"-I mean Kitty to enter into the hunt."

Duke Prosper cocked his head to one side.

"You have never hunted a wyvern, and yet you claim to be Orlesian? Or does the League of Miami not allow hunting?"

Michael gave the duke a shark-like smile.

"Oh, they allowed me to hunt, but usually it was much more dangerous prey, like corrupt Orlesian nobles."

He held up a hand as the duke was about to respond.

"And if you're about to tell me that your sources can't find evidence of existence of the League of Miami, don't. The League prides itself on secrecy, and it would have fallen on hard times indeed if they were to be discovered by second rate sources. No offence."

The duke nodded.

"None taken, but even the Empress herself, beloved by all, says she knows nothing of this League."

Prosper paused, then added smugly.

"And I would know, because I am one of her closest confidants!"

Michael shrugged indifferently.

"Even if the Divine herself asked the Empress of the League of Miami she would still demure, such is the secrecy that surrounds it."

The duke merely laughed again.

"Ah, serves me right for asking. You must understand that I have to inquire, even if I know the answer already?"

He gestured to the other groups of hunters.

"At any rate, I will not keep you from the hunt, wouldn't want you to fall behind, yes?"

"Work in Intelligence long enough, and you hang on to phone numbers, or in a medieval world of magic, contact details. No matter who your enemy is, there's a chance you'll need him tomorrow. As a spy you might not like chumming up to corrupt Orlesian nobles, but if a fake friendly smile get you in, the mission comes first."

Michael turned to Kitty.

"Just out of curiosity, Kitty, how do you hunt a wyvern?"

The rogue grinned at him.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about how to kill it?"

The burned spy patted his assault rifle.

"Unlikely, if it bleeds then bullets should kill it."


Michael struggled to keep the ghast's sharp claws away from his arms. They had been tracking down various flora and fauna that, at least according to Tallis, would serve as adequate bait for a wyvern. Theoretically the dragon corpse and blood they recovered at the mountain pass would have been sufficient, but then Sebastian had made the mistake of telling Kitty that an alpha wyvern was particularly coveted in the duke's circles, so the rogue insisted on collecting any and all bait that would attract it. Including some sort of freshly killed stag that the locals called a halla, which also happened to be situated near a ghast hidey hole.

The ghast were disgusting little creatures that were deadlier than first assumed, with vicious claws and sharp teeth. Which were now trying to bite Michael, and he pushed the creature's head back with the butt of his rifle. It was too close to use the G36, and he needed a free hand to get at his Sig Sauer pistol. Suddenly the creature let out a piercing shriek as it was enveloped in flames. Michael kicked the creature away, and lay on his back stunned, watching the creature burn to ash. A shadow covered him as a gauntleted hand was offered to him.

"That was a close one, lad. Are ye hurt?"

Michael accepted Sebastian's hand and pulled himself up, dusting himself off.

"Just my pride, at the thought of being eaten alive by a real life gremlin."

He saw the puzzled look on the prince's face and shook his head.

"Nevermind, suffice it to say it would have been an ignominious end to the great Michael Westen."

"I'll bloody well say!"

A female voice piped up behind him. Michael turned around and saw Kitty approach, wiping ghast blood off her daggers.

"Didn't you once tell me not to break, what did you call it? Unit cohesion?"

Michael chuckled as he shook his head.

"Touche, Kitty."


Michael watched as the elf assassin mimic the nug mating call in the clearing where the wyverns were supposed to frequent. To him the ridiculous noises were something she seemed all too adept at doing. He turned to Kitty.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Kitty? Going after an Alpha?"

The redheaded rogue smiled at the ex-spy.

"Well, if we're going to make an impression I say let's go all out, don't you agree?"

Michael was about to respond when he heard something crashing through the undergrowth. The spy was prepared for anything, after all, he had fought dragons and darkspawn in the Deep Roads, but what smashed into the clearing gave him pause.

It was a massive creature, more lizard than dragon that was at least twenty feet long and covered in purple scales and sharp spines. The wyvern's baleful golden eyes glared at Hawke's party then it's maw split open with a mandible-like jaws revealing needle sharp teeth. It let out a snarling bellow, spitting its caustic venom everywhere. Immediately Michael raised his G36 and sprang into action.

"Outflank it, don't try to take it head-on!"

He fired a burst at the creature, and Michael saw spurts of blood from where the bullets connected. He saw Kitty duck away from the wyvern's claws, and slit her dagger across its ribs as she retreated. Arrows from Sebastian's bow embedded themselves in the creature's shoulder joints, and it let out another bellow of rage. The wyvern turned its massive head towards the prince, and made ready to charge.

"Sebastian! Look out!"

To his credit, the prince turned rogue from Starkhaven quickly ran to cover behind a boulder, but now the wyvern turned its attention to Michael. It's blazing eyes bored into the spy, and Michael had only seconds to react. He brought his assault rifle to bear and fired frantically at the charging creature. More blood burst from the wyvern's scales, but it still kept charging. With a swipe of it's claws it backhanded Michael, sending him flying into a tree trunk.

Michael's vision swam as he fought to stay conscious, and he rolled onto his back trying to regain the initiative, but then he felt a massive weight on his chest like a boulder. He felt its hot breath on his neck, but then he felt an icy blast hit the wyvern, and the weight pinning him down was gone. He rolled over to see the creature with a massive ice shard protruding from its flank, and it bellowed at Bethany.

The spy fired more rounds into the creature, but the wyvern, now in its death throes, was too blinded by pain and rage to feel the deadly wounds inflicted by Michael.

"Bethany, get out of there, now!"

Frantically he fumbled through his assault vest to find the other flash bang grenade, anything to distract the creature, but as it turned out it wasn't necessary. A blur of red flashed in front of Michael, and sailed over the wyvern like Hawke's namesake, before landing lightly on the creature's head. Kitty raised both her daggers and plunged them deep into the creature's skull. It had the desired effect, the wyvern roared and thrashed briefly, then collapsed. The rogue hopped down off the dead wyvern and quickly ran to her sister with Michael hot on her heels.

"Are you alright, Bethany?"

The female mage looked dazed and in shock, Michael knew the feeling well.

"Nearly getting killed shakes you up, doesn't matter if you're a spy or a rogue. Brushes with death are like snowflakes. Each one is unique, and icy cold."

"Well, if it isn't the Ferelden turnip!"

Michael and Kitty turned towards the sarcastic voice's owner. It was one of the Orlesian nobles, wearing a gaudy tabard over heavy chain mail armor, accompanied by at least a dozen heavily armed guards. Kitty recognized him as Baron Arlange, one of the nobles Duke Prosper was speaking with before Hawke's party arrived. The noble continued, sneering in that same outrageous accent that reminded Michael of Pepe Le Peu.

"They say you are a champion of some backwater city in the east. Quite an achievement, I'm sure."

Baron Arlange looked over at the alpha wyvern's corpse, then then disdainfully back at Hawke.

"I suggest you run along with your servants while you still have the chance. This wyvern was mine to kill, not yours! Mine! Mine! Mine! I paid good coin to be the one who wins this contest! It was my turn!""

The baron then threw a tantrum that seemed more appropriate for greedy ring-necked mallard from the cartoons than an Orlesian noble. Michael and Kitty exchanged glances, the rogue looked as if she was about to burst out laughing. She giggled as she spoke.

"Oh, my mistake! I didn't realize the duke was offering charity to his more useless guests..."

Arlange glared at Hawke.

"I will not accept such and insult from a backwater mongrel!"

Michael shook his head.

"You do realize that we just defeated a wyvern alpha with ease, and that Hawke can beat you like a rented mule with both hands tied behind her back?"

Kitty looked back at the spy and winked.

"Oh, my hands tied behind my back? That sounds kinky! But let's wait until after I've given this brat a good spanking, yes?"

The baron was enraged further.

"More insults, this time from a dirty washed up spy! I cannot take anymore of this!"

He gestured to his guards.

"Kill them all, leave no witnesses! We shall say the wyvern was too much for them!"

Michael raised his rifle.

"As a spy, you learn to deal with all sorts of people. Dealing with a trained operative is like playing chess with a master. Dealing with petty corrupt nobles who happen to be part of the Orlesian aristocracy on the other hand, is like playing checkers with a three year-old: they like to throw tantrums and change the rules."

As Michael predicted, it was over quickly and very one-sided. Michael's opening burst killed three of the guards outright, while Kitty and Tallis's blades made short work four more. Sebastian's arrows took out the the arches, and a massive fireball from Bethany threw the arrogant baron off his feet. Desperately he reached for his sword, only to have a tan boot of some woven cloth material pin his wrist to the ground. He looked up and was staring down the barrel of the Orlesian spy's odd weapon. The spy spoke.

"Not another move, or you'll be breathing through a hole in your forehead."

For a moment Baron Arlange's arrogant vanished, and was replaced by naked fear. He heard a voice speak up.

"Now, what is going on here?"

Duke Prosper approached, with is retinue. To Kitty and Michael's surpise, he seemed more curious than surprised by the pile of corpses and the defeated baron. Arlange pushed Michael aside and pulled himself up.

"Prosper! That bloody bitch and her spy boyfriend tried to steal my rightful kill!"

The duke mockingly tutted Arlange's language.

"Now, is that any way to speak of the Champion of Kirkwall, Baron?"

The baron seethed.

"This is your fault for inviting a stinking turnip in the first place! Your mother would be ashamed!"

Rather than being insulted, Prosper let out an amused chuckle.

"Says the man whose mother slept with half of Val Chevin."

He turned to Kitty.

"My apologies, Lady Hawke. Arlange has always been a cheat. What would you have done with him?"

Tallis looked shocked.

"You're not suggesting..."

Kitty grinned at the assassin.

"Why not? This stuck-up shit would have killed us all, if given the chance."

She shot a glare at the baron.

"And there's the matter of your manners, which I find appalling!"

Prosper laughed.

"Ah, spoken like a true Ferelden! So what do you say, Lady Hawke."

Tallis stepped forward.

"Wait, Hawke!"

Kitty turned to the assassin.

"Something on your mind?"

Tallis looked over to the baron.

"Just let him go, we can't just kill him!"

Duke Prosper chuckled again.

"My word, such words of mercy from an assassin!"

Kitty looked back at the baron.

"Oh, actually we can, rather easily too, don't you think so, Michael."

Sweat beaded on Arlange's forehead, and he glanced fearfully over at the spy. The ex-spy's eyes were obscured by mirrored glasses, and his face was impassive. Finally he spoke.

"Ordinarily I wouldn't agree with Tallis, but this oxygen thief isn't worth the bullet."

He looked over to Kitty.

"Leave him, for an Orlesian noble living with dishonor is more painful than a quick death by a blade or bullet."

Prosper nodded, and looked over to the stricken noble.

"You hear that, Arlange? It behooves you to leave while you still can. The Champion of Kirkwall has shown you mercy, but if you show your face here again on my lands I will not be so merciful."

After the baron skulked off, the duke smiled at Hawke.

"Well, you managed to kill a wyvern, and an alpha, no less! There will be a celebration in the chateau courtyard, you and your party will be my guests of honor!"

Michael and Kitty watched as Duke Prosper left with his retinue. Kitty grinned at the spy.

"Well, that was invigorating, now, do any of you know where I can find some rope?"

Michael sighed.

"This is hardly the time, Hawke."

He winced as the rogue pounced on him.

"You know better than that, Michael, it's Kitty! Now, I think you should be the one to be tied up!"

Tallis approached.

"Erm, Hawke? Shouldn't we be making our way to the chateau, and start the second phase of this mission?"

The rogue shrugged.

"Right, Bethany, you and Sebastian go with Tallis. Michael and I will catch up!"

(AN: Well, there you have it, more Michael monologues and Kitty acting like, well, Kitty.

Truth be told, if I can't get over this writer's block for TSWCTK, I have written the last chapter of this story. What I propose is that after the MOTA arc if I haven't gotten my groove back I'll take a survey. Either I'll continue to update at irregular intervals, or I'll do one chapter that will be an outline of the notes I took for Act III, up to the cliffhanger ending, the I will post a separate final chapter which I had written clear back when I first started writing this story. Either way I promise not to leave my faithful reader hanging.)