Long time no update, but only two ladies left after this chapter! I decided not to do the obvious thing and go straight to the Dalish elf, so here you have the first of the possible dwarves. Two chapters and a short epilogue left, so stay tuned! Hopefully, it won't take nearly as long as this one did.

One thing's for certain, though: this story will get finished!

o.O.o

She's all Clueless

o.O.o

What woke Alistair next was a sharp pat to his back, making him almost stumble over his own feet. The young Warden blinked owlishly, glancing around; it was early morning, he was in the mountains and… there was Duncan and a few of the others, in full armor, heading uphill with him. Save for the chilly surroundings that Ostagar most certainly didn't contain, Alistair could have almost believed that he had just woken from a very realistic and highly disturbing vision.

He had intended to make amends with Arl Eamon eventually, but after this… it was just more difficult by the minute.

However, it was difficult to ignore the general proximity of the other Wardens for any given amount of time, especially considering that the one who had whacked him was the thoroughly bear-like Gregor. The man would have likely toppled any of them over if they weren't clad in heavy cloaks and wearing more blankets than a circus parade needed for a tent.

"I would think you'd be far more enthusiastic about the proceedings, lad!" Oh, so the chiding was directed at him. Well, never let it be said that he didn't enjoy something he had no idea about and so couldn't properly converse about. "Getting invited into the Orzammar royal palace is a rare treat, even for Grey Wardens!"

Orzammar, the major dwarven city left in this part of Ferelden. Alistair dug through his many-layered gloves and once again located the MacGuffin ring on his finger. Which meant that he had been fortunately transported away from his own wedding (shudder) to a more bearable fantasy. No matter what the would-be lady Warden was in this reality, at least he had his surrogate family at his side. One thing was for certain, though – he had managed to skip the Dalish elf and gone straight for one of the two dwarven ladies.

It ought to be interesting, he supposed, though Alistair would be the first one to admit that he knew very little about dwarven culture. One thing he did know, though.

"I suppose I'm just a little jittery about being underground for such a long time… I guess." Alistair had never been much of an actor, truth to be told, so he stuck with the few things he could say honestly about the situation. "Don't the dwarves have any kind of openings? How does air get inside, anyway?"

He had been a bit distracted by the elves back there in the portrait gallery that he had paid little attention to the others; now, he was sort of regretting it. Abby the human had been attractive, certainly, but there was a trend of mild to severe craziness among his potential bachelorettes.

"The gates of Orzammar are hardly locked to the surface world." Hearing Duncan's voice, though, was somewhat reassuring. Alistair couldn't say he was really close with any of the other Grey Wardens, but their leader's presence was a calming influence. "There are always methods. Besides, the dwarves themselves might share your fears; having no ceiling above them is very disorienting to first-time surface visitors."

Even if Duncan did like to show off a bit with his yo-yos and refused to cut his hair, despite how practical that would be. And, of course, no matter where they went, the Wardens had to check the nearest jewelry store for possible accessories to his armor. It was getting a bit ridiculous. Considering that all the Wardens had to be at least a little bit loopy in the head, though, Alistair wasn't too bothered by a few mild eccentricities. Compared to the strange hairdos of some others, it was actually very minor.

"That makes sense. So, how long are we going to be here, then?"

"For the entire festivities, apparently. I doubt King Endrin will let us just pass through."

"The feast isn't the first thing on your mind?" Gregor would have chortled normally, but this time, he actually looked vaguely alarmed. "You'll insult our hosts that way. Or are you that anxious to see the Provings?"

"I'd say he's anxious about seeing the princess, the rascal!" There was a general guffaw from the Wardens, who exchanged secret handshakes and sent a few messenger pigeons to the local tabloids.

While Alistair's location and occupation wasn't widely known, the fact that Maric had been adventurous, to put it politely, was quite an open secret. They knew mostly because on the rare occasions Duncan drank, he tended to get chatty about all sorts of things, including his glamour days years ago that were documented in several novels and how he became a Warden mostly because some guy called Obi-Wan Kenobi beat him during a mysterious wise mentor contest and got his dream job. Something about him being too Jewish or too black; he was usually too drunk to remember at this point.

Needless to say, the tabloids were usually full of the strangest reports from the "trusted sources" from inside the Wardens, leading to the group becoming rather mystifying to the general public. Some of their members made a hefty side income feeding the gossip columns by providing them with news about anything and everything after distorting the news for kicks and giggles. The life of a possible royal bastard included.

However, Alistair primarily focused on a single word.

"Princess?" he asked, blinking owlishly. "What princess?"

He knew the Couslands by name as a very influential noble family, but as for dwarven nobility… well, he knew that any of them wouldn't hesitate to poison a person's cheese if they believed it would bring them honor and advancement. Even the name of their king escaped him, really.

"The whole celebration is in honor of Endrin's only daughter – eh, I forget her name." The Warden waved his hand dismissively, continuing. "Dwarven names are long and clunky. We'll all be addressing her as Lady Aeducan anyway, if we see her. She's a warrior of renown, though, and it's rumored that she'll be named commander of Orzammar's army."

"I'd have thought she'd be long married off and attempting to have children." Another of the group remarked idly. "There's no further heir down in the royal line aside from Endrin's three children."

"Isn't it difficult to find a spouse if you're limited to just one city? I mean, Orzammar is probably large, but-"

"Probably large?" Laughter at his expense was something Alistair was rather used to, at least when it was good-natured. "You'll regret saying that and wish for Denerim's simplicity soon enough, Alistair. Just try not to say it out loud to any of the dwarves."

A few eyerolls later, the Warden continued. "In any case, the reason I mentioned the princess is that she'd be an excellent Warden candidate, but circumstances being what they are… well, we're already going into the Deep Roads anyway, so we could try to recruit her, I guess." He added to Duncan, shrugging.

"Just make sure you do it after we've eaten." Another roar of laughter, but an agreeable one. The Wardens spent most of their royal allowance on food anyway, so it was no surprise that they would want to stuff themselves silly before making their way into the Deep Roads.

Alistair didn't even want to know why they were going there, of all places, but after fingering the cheap ring on his finger, he was somewhat reassured. It was highly probable that he wouldn't be forced to set foot there just yet, assuming he got to see this princess – likely the possible Warden recruit of this universe – before their journey there.

"I doubt we'll be recruiting anyone during our stay here." Duncan's words came as a surprise this time; however real or not this world might be, Alistair knew that recruitment of possible Wardens always took priority. However the next words made sense. "You must remember that the dwarves have their own contingents for fighting darkspawn and are reluctant to leave. I would rather not conscript without cause today."

"Without an excuse, you mean."

"Don't worry; the dwarves are careful about not giving us one." Gregor, always one for stringing pub-owners into kicking them out before displaying the Warden credentials, once again almost knocked a man off his feet with a good-hearted whack. "It'll be a challenge."

o.O.o

The dwarves proved to be hospitable enough, despite their constant attempts to get him to eat those weird bunny-pigs they always had around. It seemed like everyone was watching everyone and the room was without air if not without winds of whispers. In any case, Alistair found he rather liked Orzammar. Mostly because he understood so little about it; he didn't know any of the high-ranking nobles, nor did he care to know too much. It seemed like the kind of place where even knowing someone's actual middle name could get you into trouble, assuming someone found out.

In any case, the ale was wonderful, even though the rest of the Wardens were apparently once again betting how many sips it would take to have him giggling like a fool all evening. Considering that all this was just an incredibly vivid dream, Alistair decided to ignore them and save most of the wonderful drink for after he saw the princess, assuming she showed up. Most casual conversations around them were about her many virtues – or what dwarves would consider virtues, anyway, considering the creative ways to dispose of deepstalkers she had apparently invented – and so far, she sounded almost normal.

Then, of course, his peace and quiet and wondering how come there wasn't a single good kind of cheese on the table had to be interrupted by the loud trumpeting of several criers, who practically stomped on one another while trying to announce a most important occurrence. Finally, one bit the other in the ear and managed to stay on top long enough to shriek out the message.

"Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Ekenesenarhienrhien, Lady Aeducan, the new commander of the Army of Orzammar and creator of the award-winning double-cheese Nugburger recipe!"

Alistair forgot the name immediately, because it was quite possibly the longest of all of those he had heard on this strangest day of all. It began with and e, but, fortunately, he knew he wouldn't have to address this one as anything other than milady. So it was all right.

He hoped.

The comfortable thing with dwarves was that he hardly needed to stretch in order to see the princess arrive. She came in with a single escort, an armored dwarf who looked like the entire gathering was the most boring thing he'd ever seen, yet maintained an image of politeness. And then… there she was.

Lady Aeducan (it was much easier to remember) was of average height for a dwarf, sporting chin-length hair with several ornamental braids to give her a more regal look. Like the two princes everyone flocked to in her absence if not bothering her throne-occupying father, she was fair, somewhat tanned and wore armor that gave the distinct impression of a seasoned and high-ranking warrior. She also had the same practiced smile and cold eyes that easily spoke of death in the case of a betrayal. At least she was without that odd wiry moustache one of her brothers kept twirling around his fingers. The dark coloring wouldn't look nice on her.

In any case, she addressed all those that approached her with a radiant smile that was a bit reminiscent of Cousland, but never became much too wide. Aside for the difference in race and rank, she seemed perfectly normal. By this point, though, Alistair knew better than trust a first impression so easily.

Stealthily (because he could be sneaky when it was required), the young Warden made his way towards the crowd that now surrounded the princess and tried to listen in to the conversation.

Of course, being at least two heads taller than everyone else, he was spotted before he even moved two steps towards them, but got deemed stupid-looking, but harmless by an ever-observant Gorim.

The approaching Warden was only brought to a halt by a squeak-like giggle that apparently came from the lady herself. Afterwards, laughter continued all around, though Alistair hadn't heard the punchline of the joke.

"-migod, guys, did you see what Trian was wearing two hours ago? That ribbon was so last season – and he attempted to cover it up too, poor sod! You are what you wear, like I always say."

The princess had a chirpy voice, rather like a hummingbird on caffeine, and gesticulated twice as wildly when excited. However, this energy seemed to have brought a new kind of karma into the room and everyone seemed a little less cutthroat than a minute ago. It was only now that Alistair noticed that most of the party guests had her likeness displayed on some tacky piece of jewelry, their weapons signed by her.

The very few dwarves younger than the princess even had dolls that lucked suspiciously like her lying around. Somewhere, there even was an ornamented My Lady Aeducan box lying around, though it had apparently disappeared in the meantime.

The conversation continued like this for about a minute until Alistair felt a jab near his ribs that notified him to the presence of the remainder of the Wardens, who had apparently taken some pity on him. For the entirely wrong reasons, though, if Gregor's near-psychotic grin and almost good natured eyebrow-wiggle in the princess's direction.

Before Alistair could protest or even blush properly, Duncan had apparently managed to negotiate the social necessity of greeting the princess properly on this, her night of nights. The bored-looking dwarf had managed to somehow claw his way to his mistress, his sardonic eyes softening with every step, and assumed a position right at her left ear; a spot no one contested him for, meaning it was more than likely where he belonged.

He spoke with minimum lip motion, almost like a ventriloquist, but the audibility of his words nullified the purpose of that skill quite effectively. In any case, it wasn't entirely hard to guess what he intended to say.

"Milady, the Grey Wardens would like to request a moment of your attention."

The princess blinked, her eyes searching around a bit at this tidbit of information. She found them quickly, but not even the exotic sight of the Wardens could maintain her attention for very long. "Oh, right, those guys. I was kinda wondering what they were doing here, being like, so tall and stuff. Good thing we have high ceilings here, or they'd have to crawl around like nugs, right?"

There was a general round of laughter at this, including a few high-fives. Snorting giggles seemed particularly popular among most of the crowd. However, this was apparently the cue for the sardonic dwarf to squeeze back through the crowd of his lady's admirers and bring back news of this positive development to a waiting audience.

"The Lady will see you now." Not that he was obligated to look pleased about this development. However, he was remarkably dexterous in finding a way through the crowd. One reason for that was unquestionably the sword at his side.

The other was most likely that this was the expected course of action.

The dwarves parted for them this time, without any kind of fuss, and Alistair could observe the newly elected commander at a short distance. Her armor was more ornamental than that of most of the warrior-dwarves around, abundant in gold and red. Aside from that, the princess had an abundance of hair-clips decorating her braids and matching jewelry strategically scattered in places where it wouldn't impede her movement but served its purpose easily.

Meanwhile, Duncan was already bowing to the lady, earning himself some more space and an indulgent smile or two from a few of the dwarves. Another jab to the ribs alerted Alistair to the fact that he was staring and his manners remained sub-par.

"Lady Aeducan." Duncan was saying, which meant that attention was required. "It is my honor to congratulate you on your recent appointment."

"Totally thanks for that." the princess waved the praise off, but it seemed a sincere sentiment, despite her odd sentence structure. "I mean, it was kinda obvious that I'd, like, get it in the end and stuff."

"Indeed, no one can match my dearest sister's prowess in battle… not to mention there was no one else competing for the post specifically created for her benefit."

A similarly armored dwarf had made his way towards them; Alistair recognized him as one of the two princes. The younger one; the one with the military haircut and a black moustache he kept twirling around his fingers whenever given the possibility.

"Bhe-bhe, I totally didn't see you there!" the princess squealed, giving an almost stage-laugh at her own lack of attention. Then, remembering her manners, she turned her attention back to her guests. "Grey Dudes, this is my little brother, Prince Bhelen. You know about our visitors here, right?" Her brother indicated the affirmative, but she wasn't really paying attention at this point. "They were just about to tell me their names, I think."

"No need to worry about that, sister." Bhelen was speaking through gritted teeth, but maintained his unfaltering smile while adjusting his imposing top hat and sinister-looking black cloak. "It isn't as if you'd remember them before inventing your own nicknames anyway."

"True!" the princess laughed, then nudged her brother in the shoulder with a secretive wink. Apparently, she was also stronger than she looked, considering he nearly doubled over. "Anyway, how's that secret girlfriend of yours doing? Am I gonna, like, meet her anytime soon?"

At the sight of his sisters all too wide grin, Bhelen actually went red, looking like a tomato about to burst. "You promised not to tell anyone!"

"Yah, but I need pictures or a visit to make sure I win that bet with Lady Dace. The ladies are totally still not with me on the belief that you're not, you know, batting for the other team and stuff." the princess explained, giving a few winks and meaningful looks to make her point clear. "That moustache doesn't help, you know."

"Your concern for my well-being is most heartwarming, dear sister." Alistair sort of wondered how come the dwarf's teeth were still intact, considering how much he kept clenching them all the time. Then, he gave an ironic half-bow to his sister and the others. "I hope you enjoy today's celebration to the most. You never know when such moments may vanish and never return." And, with a distinctly non-threatening puff of black smoke, he was gone.

The princess was completely oblivious to that bit, though.

"Like last year's fashions, hopefully. Those nug-fur coats were totally out of style and just plain wrong!" She groaned, then laughed, then regained her composure just as quickly. It was like looking at several people at once. "Anyway, isn't he awesome? Probably a little queer, I know, but I'm hoping I can fix that with a little fashion interest."

Alistair would have had absolutely no idea what to say, so he was highly thankful for the fact that this question was directed towards Duncan and not him. "I'm certain you know your brother best, Lady Aeducan."

"Totally, we're BFFs." the princess smiled brilliantly, bleached teeth sparkling with almost an unnatural shine. "I taught him how to braid his beard and everything." Then, the personal assistant of a dwarf that followed her around was whispering to her again and she noticed something beyond them, in the general vicinity of the king. "Well, I'm sorry, but daddy probably wants to see me now, celebration and all."

"Of course." Duncan was bowing his head again, which by now Alistair understood as an action to be mimicked, so he did the same before anyone could elbow him in the ribs. It led to some disappointment on the part of the elbowers, but they coped. "Don't let us keep you."

"Well, I might let some of you keep me in a different situation, but I'm not trashy like or anything." the princess commented, winking at the Wardens and sauntering off with her posse. "Later!"

It took Alistair several moments to actually get over the fact that he'd been appraised like a cow for the slaughter several times within the past few minutes, along with the fact that he hadn't actually spoken to this woman at all. Not that he'd know what to say; dwarven customs were definitely odd.

"She seemed… eh… nice?" he remarked cautiously when Duncan appeared to be checking him for potential Run Away Screaming symptoms.

"Dwarven culture is very different from ours. You'll get used to it. Hopefully. Anyway, they won't try their political tricks on you, Alistair. There isn't any point."

"Besides, from what I gather, dwarf women go for beards." Gregor noted philosophically, stroking his own. "So you're out of luck here, son."

"I see. Comforting."

o.O.o

The festivities lasted for the better part of the afternoon, when Alistair managed to witness some of the goriest battles ever during the proving. The princess had apparently decided to join in later on and actually won the battles meant to be done in her honor. This was the first candidate Alistair had seen fight properly – not with spells he could barely make sense of, but with an actual blade. The petite dwarf was proficient with a number of deadly weapons, including the manicure set, a nasty collection of tweezers, truly ancient nailpolishes and, worst of all, a brand new make-up kit that very easily forced people into submission. There was a vindictive streak to the young woman, for certain.

Other than that, it was actually a rather enjoyable evening. Alistair was surprised by this, considering the other candidates had forced him to flee before he could even find out anything meaningful about them. Here, it was the opposite extreme; the princess was the centre of attention for all around them, so it was very difficult to get close to her, not to mention speak with her. Still, Alistair was determined to give it a shot and at least exchange greetings.

He managed to eventually spot a moment when the princess excused herself from the ever-continuing festivities in her honor.

The party continued without her, as dwarven festivities apparently continued until all of the guests collapsed from ingesting too much beer. By the time Alistair managed to get out of the grand chamber, he managed to witness about seven really mean twister games that could turn into potential orgies, got propositioned at least thrice and saw the beginning of a game of wicked grace with at least three packs of cards too many.

That was apparently still within the realm of normalcy.

Though Alistair wasn't too familiar with the layout of the palace, it was easy to guess where he was supposed to go – wherever there wasn't any kind of surveillance or anything looked at him funny.

Finally, he managed to hear the princess's voice not too far off. She was apparently talking to just one person, but the voices stopped before he could locate them properly. Then, there were a few moments of silence… and suddenly the distinct banging and crashing of battle.

Thinking that there might be an opening for conversation right there, Alistair bravely rushed to the scene where he thought the noise was coming from. Unfortunately, it was a bit different than what he pictured. Not that he had imagined he might save the princess from some kind of ambush, but he certainly hadn't expected the weapon to be the assailant's… mouth.

The princess and the other dwarf shoved each other away with earth-shattering force, but the entangled state of their limbs didn't really allow for that kind of sudden movement. So instead, they tumbled off one another rather clumsily, bits of now loosened armor falling to the ground with a clunk and both participants struggling to cover up everything they could.

Not that the lipstick marks were apparently willing to vacate their spots all around the incriminating places.

"Oh, uh, hey, buff Grey Warden dude!" the princess hiccupped out, trying to untwist her undershirt.

"This –uh, this isn't what it looks like!" the other dwarf – it was the assistant, apparently – spluttered out while attempting to look inconspicuous. Given that his hair resembled like a lightning-struck chicken, this was harder than it sounded. "This is an… a dwarven protocolar necessity when stuck in a deserted dark corridor with a person you'd really like to shack up openly with a legally binding contract-"

"Gorry, sweetheart, you know I'd really really really love to have you as my official boyfriend and have all the tabloids make us top couple instead of that total skank Beemo and her boy-toy." the princess said soothingly, looking a little mean-spirited about the whole thing. "I mean, I'd consider getting hitched with a sparkly enough ring, but…"

"I know, muffincakes." Gorim sighed theatrically, looking remarkably dignified considering the little nugs and hearts decorating his oversized boxers. "But you could try to ask your dada to get me made a noble next year instead of another tiara."

"Oh, cuddlepuddin', you know I will. It was just the newest fashion this year and I couldn't let anyone else trump me… besides, I never planned on being made commander and stuff. Like, if it were up to me, I'd get us together immediately, but someone had to do something about those icky uniforms our soldiers wear." The princess wrinkled her button-like nose easily; apparently, this was something that had offended her personally. "If you can't fight with style, you shouldn't fight at all."

Alistair was a little overwhelmed by the whole thing even after the entire minute of observing the situation. Despite his own innocence in matters of the physical, he had come across several maids and castle guards trying to look innocent while being all over one another. This was a remarkably similar situation to those moments.

Also, it was too much information, considering that he had yet to ask any kind of question.

"So, um, let me get this straight. You two are together, but you can't be together because of some kind of regulations?"

There was a general nod, but the princess started adjusting her make-up, so it was her servant who answered. "Lady Aeducan is very likely to be selected heir to the throne. The Queen of Orzammar cannot be married to anyone lower than noble caste."

"Which you're not."

"Oh, we have a smart one here, milady." the dwarf said snidely, which Alistair completely missed. "We should watch our backs."

"No, no, there's no need to be alarmed. I completely understand your predicament." Alistair didn't really know how things would actually work out if this pair was supposed to break up in the end. It was kind of a sad situation, really. "Is there any way I could… help?"

"Look, half-ducktail half-mullet guy?" the princess had a good look at him, finally actually focusing on him. "What's your name?"

"Alistair." Hastily, he added a half-bow to that introduction. This wasn't really how he had intended this greeting to go. "I came here with the Grey Wardens, if you remember, milady."

"What, you think I don't remember? I wouldn't forget those firm thighs so quickly." the princess replied crossly, pouting. "Anyway, Allie, you don't really need to do anything, just don't tell anyone about this, otherwise there will be trouble."

"But can't you just get married after you're crowned?"

"Nothing is certain yet… besides, if this gets out after that, we'll be panned by the tabloids." Gorim shuddered a little, imagining the sheer terror of the idea. "If it gets out before, it kills the career progression for bootycakes- er, for milady."

"So there isn't any way out of this? I mean, couldn't you just explain things to your father?" Alistair figured he was being a little too forward and informal here, but it was kind of a requirement now that he was in on the dirty little secret. "He seems to really care about you, after all. Couldn't he just make you a noble? He's the king, after all."

"Look, this isn't the surface; our ways are different to your foreign customs." Gorim retorted, making sure his hockey pads were all in place. "There's only one thing we can do."

"What's that?"

"Have a daughter, of course. Like, caste system and all that?" the princess rolled her eyes, looking somewhat perplexed by this idea. "Don't you surfacers have something like that?"

"Not really. Eh, it's pretty unique to Orzammar, I gather."

"For real? How do you keep the losers and hobos away?"

"Never mind that." Gorim looked a little bashful when the princess flashed the kicked puppy look, but there was no way he could just start apologizing now and get caught. "A female child would inherit milady's caste and elevate me to nobility as well."

"Wait a moment. You mean that you can't be together formally, but if you conceive a child, it will supersede your breach of protocol and allow you to get married?"

"In short. Has to be a girl, though."

"Yeah, there's no way I could deal with raising a boy; where'd we go shopping for proper things for him?"

"More importantly, a boy would be warrior caste, like me." Gorim added, looking somewhat annoyed by this whole need for exposition to a third party and went right back to his attempt to reorganize his clothes. "Now, if you'd be so kind, we have a kid to make here."

"Oh, uh, sure. I mean, ah… don't let me stop you or anything." They didn't, really, even though both strategically kept any kind of view out of his line of sight. "I'll just… go…" Not that either of them were listening to him any longer, or responding in anything other than short giggles.

"Well, that was awkward." Alistair muttered to himself a few moments later, wondering where he might best use his ring to get out of this odd reality. Then, he bumped into someone he recognized thanks to their swirly moustache. "Oh, Your Highness, pardon me."

"Grey Warden. I, ah, wasn't expecting to find you here." Bhelen looked around carefully, as if looking for a witness or conspirator around. Or possibly those tabloids Gorim had mentioned. "Have you… have you by any chance seen my sister around? Father is getting a bit worried about her…"

"Lady Aeducan? She- she definitely wasn't anywhere near here." Alistair said immediately. He couldn't break his promise this easily. "In fact, I haven't really seen her anywhere… since the celebration, really. She disappeared right afterwards."

Bhelen rolled his eyes theatrically, but got more information out of these few sentences than Alistair intended. "As usual. Her midnight rendezvous with Ser Gorim might very well be the worst kept secret of the palace."

"You mean you know about their… relationship?" Alistair's eyes went wide as saucers. Perhaps this was the one person he was meant to tell…

"I hardly think anyone doesn't at the very least suspect that something might be going on between them." The prince put on his least-greasy good-natured expression. Perhaps even less than that was actually required, given that he was obviously dealing with an honest-to-goodness simpleton. Possibly even a genuine moron. "They're only good at avoiding amateur tabloids who've made quite a lot of money selling My Little Aeducan doll sets."

"They sell doll sets of her?"

"Indeed." For some reason, this, of all things, was what upset Bhelen the most, if his expression was any indication. "Nessie is quite popular that way."

"What about you? Aren't you popular?"

"Unfortunately, the extra characters from the doll set had to be taken down from the market. Way too little revenue. Especially since she got the sparkly tiara accessories. For some reason, they couldn't implement it into my doll." And this was apparently the true reason to his anger. "It went great with my hair."

"I-I'm sure it did. Eh, well, if I can't really help you with this, I should probably go and see where Duncan and the others are." Alistair noted, gesturing around rather wildly in random directions. "A pleasure to meet you, though, Your Highness."

"Likewise, I'm certain." The prince retorted, giving the traditional dwarven headbut greeting that left Alistair rather woozy.

Of course, that was the moment when a gasp had to interrupt them, along with something that sounded like a muffled laugh. When Alistair regained his full vision, he saw the small crowd observing them from both ends of the corridor – one side consisted mainly of the princess, her servant and (judging by the sparkliness of his armor) the other prince. Somehow, the remainder of the Wardens arrived after them. The other end of the corridor got blocked by the remainder of the partygoers.

"Oh. My. Gawd." The princess punctured each gasp from the crowd with a word. "Bhe-bhe! This is a little too much! I was willing to tolerate you being poofy and all that, but a surfacer?"

"What? No!" Bhelen's eyes nearly popped from his head at the news. Then, he finally noticed that his siblings were apparently ready to team up against him. "I thought Trian was going to go through that way and catch you in flagrante!"

"Flags don't make good outfits, I thought you knew that." The princess rolled her eyes. "I thought I taught you that. This is worse than just you being weird."

"Frankly, Bhelen, you've been getting worse ever since you started pretending to have a girlfriend." The eldest brother added, looking rather bored and yet unsurprised by the whole thing.

"I am not pretending! Rica is real!"

"Ooh, we've got a name!" The princess squealed gleefully and snapped her fingers to get her lackey to attention. "Gorry, get me every broad with that name in Orzammar. I wanna see if she's a she, assuming she exists."

Alistair was rather unsurprised that everyone had forgotten him at this point, but there was no obvious way out of there.

Meanwhile, Gorim grinned, bowed and left, but not before giving his ladylove a kiss goodbye and an important reminder. "With pleasure, milady. Be sure to take your test in three hours, all right?"

"Sure, hon- eh, Gorry. Kisses."

"I am not gay!" Bhelen roared, still being ignored. "I can prove it! I have a girlfriend!"

"We'll see in a few hours." Trian murmured, earning a high-five from the princess. Which was another point of argument for the prince.

"You two were supposed to be against each other at this point!" he added, pointing at each of them accusingly. "Why are you trying to cooperate?"

Trian shrugged. "Well, we had a few cookies together before the celebration and decided to be nice to each other today. Nessie even shared her super secret recipe, so we kind of bonded."

"Yeah, we're cool now." the princess added, grinning as they made up a secret handshake on the spot. "'sides, it seems we're all going to need to cooperate if we're going to run this city eventually. All that brooding and angsting doesn't leave Trian much time to find a proper girlfriend, after all."

"Finding a woman that appreciates my bleaching and tanning habits is difficult." the dwarf prince harrumphed, sulking a little. "I'll stick to trying to bone random women and we'll deal with succession based on who has a kid first."

"And if neither of you manage to conceive? The chances of that are rather slim!"

"There's always adoption." Alistair suggested mildly, which was a decidedly bad idea in hindsight.

The three siblings all froze mid-drama, looked from one to another, and, the jig being apparently up, each drew a concealed weapon and brandished it menacingly. It was to be a duel to the death with a comb, a toy duck and a roll of toilet supplies.

Unfortunately, before Alistair could somehow get out of the small circle that had formed around them and reach his fellow Wardens, a surprise attack with a nearby window curtain managed to temporarily knock him out.