Back in the reception room, many of the guest were refilling their plates and mingling. The mages were off in a corner; the healers tending to the three who just finished their battle. Over by the door, two white-haired men stood staring straight ahead; one a lean and long elf covered in glowing tattoos, the other the large and imposing qunari.

"Anaan esaam Qun." Said the elf after a long moment of silence. The larger one whipped his head around.

"You know my language?"

"A little. My name is Fenris. I was with the Fog Warriors for a time."

"I see. You are aware they don't follow the Qun, and are not true qunari?"

"I ended up killing them."

"Really? Good for you. Perhaps you are not unworthy after all."

"Perhaps neither are you. We shall see in the arena."

"Yes we shall. I am Sten. Well met Fenris." The two men shook hands and turned back to staring straight ahead with their arms folded across their chests.

On one of the cots, Bethany was tending to Morrigan's wounds. She seemed a bit nervous around the golden-eyed woman.

"So... you're Morrigan, then?" She ventured, trying to break the ice.

"That is correct."

"Are you really Flemeth's daughter?"

"So she has told me for the entirety of my life."

"I met her once."

"'Tis so? I'm sure 'twas most informative."

"Not really. She did rescue us from Lothering, though. She turned into a dragon."

"That sounds like my mother."

"Can you turn into a dragon?"

"I could say. I will not."

"You do act quite a bit like her. Could you teach me how to shapeshift?"

"And what would I get in return?" Bethany looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Some new clothes? You must be tired of those rags."

"Begone child."

Nearby, at one end of the buffet table, two rogues were talking very quietly and glancing over towards the mages.

"You were right Zevran, it is... magical." Isabela said breathlessly.

"I told you."

"I mean, when she was looking over that slice on my ribs, it was right there and I just wanted to lay my head..."

"I know. I have often wished to do the same."

"And she never let you?"

"No, she is an evil temptress. I cry myself to sleep at night."

"That's so sad." She patted the forlorn elf on the shoulder. "If you want, you can always lay your head on my bosom."

"It is lovely, but," Zevran sighed, "it is not the same."

"No, it really isn't." Isabela looked back over where the healers were standing speculatively. "Do you think if I told her I was a naughty girl, she'd give me a spanking?" Zevran laughed.

"Hah! Minx, I would pay good money to see that. But I've tried it before, and it hasn't worked."

"You told her you were a naughty girl? I can see how that ploy might fail."

"True. But let's go. I want to see this magnificent chest hair I've heard so much about."

"You won't be disappointed. Although I warn you, it's crossbow is the jealous type."

Barkspawn and Ser Fluffy were chasing each other around the room, with Barkspawn leading. They knocked over several chairs and a few of the guests. They didn't seem to notice, barking happily back and forth at each other.

"Mew?" The mabari hounds stopped short as a little orange cat crossed their paths. Barkspawn put his head down and snuffled at the tiny creature, while the cat sniffed back. Sir Fluffy growled at the thing, and when it didn't respond he whined quizzically. Barkspawn reached back and picked up the cat in his mouth. With the other mabari in tow, he walked towards the mage with the feathered robes and deposited the cat on the cot beside him.

"Meow." Anders looked down and saw the little cat, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Ser Pounce-a-lot! Where did you come from?" The two hounds barked happily. Anders scooped the cat up, and scratched under it's chin.

"Thank you kind fellows. I'm sorry if I ever said anything mean about dogs. Ser Pounce-a-lot, say thank you."

"Mew?"

Shale stepped into the room.

"It says we are to begin again." The guests, plus a very small kitten, filtered back into the ballroom for the next round.