The reception room was relatively devoid of people, but the thick wave of tension in the room more than made up for it. Six of the party were still in the ballroom, preparing for the final round of combat. Over in the healer's corner, Bethany and Anders were busy trying to patch up the Orlesian. Leliana was conscious, but definitely looking worse for wear. The buffet table was strangely empty; instead, everyone was gathered around the bar, passing around mugs of ale and shot glasses of indeterminate liquor.

"So, what do you think our fearless leaders are up to?" Oghren said amiably, passing his flask over to the King of Ferelden.

"Having a tea party, of course. With dolls. And stuffed animals. They're probably braiding each other's hair." Alistair sighed dramatically. "I wish I could join them. I could use a manicure."

"Oh, come off it Alistair. You just want to see if Mahariel and Hawke are going at it." Isabela draped one arm over the warrior and stole the flask with the other. She took a quick swig and tossed it over to Nathaniel Howe.

"One; I think you're confusing me for Zevran. I am a perfect gentleman. Two; I very much doubt they are 'going at' anything." A speculative look came over Alistair's face. "Although... hot..."

"Yer got that right." Oghren said.

"Did I hear someone confusing Alistair for me? I believe that is an insult." Zevran turned around with a small glass of clear liquid in his hand. He sipped slowly and pouted at the others.

"No, Isabela is just calling me a pervert."

"I said no such thing." She looked offended. "Did I say the word pervert?"

"Of course she didn't. That would be the bandit calling the pickpocket thief." Nathaniel's rejoindered.

"Wait, does that mean you think I'm perverted?" asked Zevran.

"I don't think it Zevran, I know it." Alistair got out from under Isabela's arm to pour a mug of ale from one of the kegs. "You and Isabela both." The Antivan and the Rivani exchanged devilish grins.

"So what do you think they're doing in Mahariel's office?" Merrill asked, having not really followed most of the previous conversation.

"Same thing we are. Our Warden-Commander has a private stash to rival Oghren's up there." Velanna said casually. Nathaniel handed the flask to her. She looked at it, shrugged and took a sip before handing it back to the dwarf.

"Well, she sure knows how to throw a party. Food, drink, and fighting. Feels like home." Oghren sighed contentedly.

"I for one could have done without the fighting." Loghain came up behind them and scowled. Alistair inched slowly away from his father-in-law.

"Ah, come on Loghain, don't tell me you weren't looking for a chance to beat the shit out of your son-in-law. I thought that was the dream of every father." Oghren nudged the Teryn in the ribs. The older man's scowl deepened.

"No."

"Oh right... I forgot. It was him that knocked you down. Oops." He drained his flask and picked up a bottle of dark liquid to refill it.

"So Nathaniel, I see you're feeling better." Alistair turned his back on Loghain to speak to the young Howe.

"Yeah. I got patched up real good. Still hurts if I laugh though."

"Good thing you don't do that often." Velanna cut in. Nathaniel looked aback at her, but her face betrayed nothing.

"Anyone know how Leliana's doing?" Zevran asked the group. Nathaniel glanced back at the cots.

"I was just over there. Anders and Bethany have it under control; she'll be fine. That was a nasty shot though." There were nods all around.

"Well good thing none of us have to fight anymore." Zevran said.

"Not that you did much fighting." They were surprised by the soft Orlesian accent, and turned around to face a limping, smiling Leliana. Anders and Bethany stood behind her, worn but satisfied with their work.

"Oh good, we thought you were going to have to miss the final round." Isabela said cheerfully.

"Not a chance." The conversation stopped as they all heard the sounds of some drinking song, sung very badly. A door on the second level slammed open and the Champion and the Warden walked out of a room, leaning on each other for support.

"Come on everyone! Let's see the last fight!" Mahariel crowed drunkenly. Hawke punched a fist in the air. The remaining revelers rolled their eyes, filled up their glasses, and headed back into the ballroom for the final round of combat.