Disclaimer: I own absolutely and completely nothing. Bioware has that particular pleasure.

Summary: A City-Elf/Bann Teagan collection of drabbles and one-shots based on a prompt table from an LJ-community. These will be more or less in chronological order with the faintest traces of added plot here and there. Will vary from drabble length to one-shot.

Author's note: This is one extremely silly piece in a way and very serious in a way. This makes sense, I swear. I wanted to make a little more serious but this works. Shianni needs her sort of time. Hopefully it will make people laugh.

In this chapter: Elves are scary people.

031.

Whoever brought Shianni to the Palace needs to answer to him. Really. Really really. The blasted woman is bloody scary. Just look at her, all glaring and pointy ears and uh, scary. The woman is scary. Small but scary. Maybe he shouldn't say she's small, she might have the whole dagger stuff around but still. He is supposed to be the King now. Aren't people supposed to give him a little respect now? Kingly stuff? Perks of the job?

"If you harm my cousin again, I will beat you to an inch of your life. I will string you in the Alienage tree by your toes and call the children to use you as a target for practice. By the way, they tell us not to carry weapons? We don't care. Daggers are easy to slip. We learn to use them early in life."

He opens his mouth to tell her so but huh, yes. Glaring. She's very good at it.

"And don't you even think I wouldn't be able to do it." In this moment, he's thinking nothing but self-preservation. Self-preservation says be quiet. He stays quiet. Good boy, whispers his mind. Female, by the way. Maker, why is his mind female? Is he jumping the fence…? "It's bad enough that she makes you a King and then you just bite her head off, yes, I heard the story and no, I didn't hear from her. The dwarf told me! A dwarf. I highly doubt he'd thought it'd be funny to lie to me."Actually. Hm. He would. Not that he's lying now, that is. He did act a little stuck-up? But she conscripted Loghain of all people!

Again, Alistair tries to open his mouth to voice that particular comment when a finger is stuck on his face, close enough to blind him if she moves just a little forward. Let's not move. Let's not speak. Let's not breathe. He likes his looks and wearing an eye patch would make him the most ridiculous king after. Well, after Cailan. Not to offend his brother or anything except he sort of was. In his defense, he lived as Grey Warden enough to know they are no such thing as great heroes of legend. Fade, he became one. Tasha become one. Isn't that enough for his late brother to draw his conclusions? If he wasn't, you know, very dead.

"When she comes back." If she comes back, he wants to say. Only, once again, might not be a good idea. Angry female, family, daggers, personal safety, better not to risk it. "When she comes back, you will apologize. You will ask for forgiveness for all the stupid things you obviously did ever since you met her, then for the things you didn't do and then for obviously harming her just because she had a cool head on her shoulders. And saved someone! A life! Are we clear?"

Any clearer and she might become transparent. Maker, do they feed needles to elves as they grow up? Prickly people, they are.

"I asked if we are clear?"

Someone is snickering. If that's Eamon, he'll kill something. Or first stare, because the image of Eamon snickering is enough to give him nightmares and then he'll kill something. Darkspawn abound, lovely frustration release. It's probably Teagan. A servant? Someone listening in? Shianni prods his forehead – the nails, woman. The bloody nails – and he remembers again that she asked something. A moment and he's nodding like his head is about to fall if he doesn't. Elves, crazy, stuff can happen.

"Good," she replies, a nod in answer to his own. "Good. Then I'll… be going now." Oh thank you, dear Maker, thank you. But he's still placing humans serving him his tea. Elves are prickly people with connections. And daggers are easy to slip. She was the one to say it!

Shianni turns on her heels so fast that he almost gets whiplash. Which is fine. Faster she moves, faster she's out, sooner he'll be out of danger. Only she doesn't exactly leave. She turns to his uncle, very slowly, very carefully, very dangerously and he suddenly has the impression everything up until now was nothing more than warm up.

"And you." Oh yes. Definitely warm up. Why isn't Teagan sweating? He'd be sweating. Wait. Wait, why the verbal slash ocular threats to Teagan?

His uncle lowers his head in the barest nod, giving her his whole attention and an almost embarrassed smile. Calm, always calm, blasted man. He makes her deflate for a whole total of two seconds.

"You, I will not leave for others." Creepy tone, creepy. Maker, this woman is just creepy all around. Get her and Morrigan in a room and they'll just combust the place into flames. Or ice it. Or nail each other to death, can he watch? "I have seen what nobles do to our kind. And she may be blinded now, but she's seen it too. She won't stop me."

Another nod, deeper this time and Alistair doesn't understand what is going on – though he has this nagging suspicion it is very obvious and he should understand. No one asks him for help, unspoken or otherwise, so he keeps quiet. The woman might remember he exists.

"So. We are clear. I must take my leave." Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, dear Andraste. "I trust you'll remember my words." In nightmares, even. The Archdemon will have her voice. "Then I'm off. Have a good day." And she tops it all with the kindest smile he has seen on her – which is really not saying much since she never did smile when he's around – before leaving like someone who just came by for tea.

Silence falls to replace her.

"Toes?" Alistair manages to say, in between wishing for her to keep walking and forget he exists. Teagan gives him a light shrug – amused, the odd man is actually amused. Huh.

"Just be grateful she didn't remember more sensible parts." Silence. "Lampposts, I believe you called them. Your fault, Eamon?"

Once upon a time, Alistair wanted a family. In this moment, he wants it dead, extended and all.