Lying Dogs

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Alistair/FemCousland offstage

Description: Six months after the archdemon's death. Alistair and Elissa Cousland are to be wed. Two words: Bachelor Party. (Or: Stag Party or whatever your country's two words are.)

This is my entry for the swooping_is_bad Christmas exchange! :) Hope you enjoy it, Silver_scars!

"Alright, gentlemen, let's discuss our plan of attack. We have two locations that are under consideration, " Bann Teagan leaned earnestly over the map of Denerim city, frowning slightly. He slid two circle markers over buildings. "I think we can safely say that the Pearl is right out. I'd rather not have her-soon-to-be-majesty use my balls as curtain weights, so a brothel is out of the question."

"Hey, why are you in charge of this shindig, mister fancy nobleman? I thought we were doing fine when you showed up!" Oghren protested. He looked like a particularly hirsute child, engulfed by a plush human sized arm chair.

Teagan dubiously raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'm really not sure that a vat of ale large enough to swim in is really what Alistair is looking for in a stag night. Nor, " he added, frowning at the blond elf before he could add his comments, "Naked mud wrestling. Particularly involving both genders. I really think that you need the touch of someone who has planned enjoyable outings that retain the dignity of the nobility. Ask Eamon about his party, if you wish."

His lips quirked as he remembered, adding, "Or, for that matter, Alistair. He was eight years old and apparently watched the dancing from the balcony with the stable-boy."

Oghren looked as if he had further protests, but instead he glanced over at the assassin draped over the matching armchair casually, his legs thrown over one arm. Zevran gazed back at the dwarf serenely with one raised eyebrow as if to say We shall see, won't we?

"That leaves our only real choice. There are other taverns in the city, but the Gnawed Noble is used to better clientele and has plenty of space. For security reasons, we'll be renting the whole place. The drinks are reasonably good there, but I see no reason why someone couldn't do some sampling to make sure things are well taken care of in that regard." During that last, Teagan broke character with the war planner demeanor to smirk slightly at the obviously eager dwarf.

"Suggested entertainments?"

"First, I will insist that I be allowed to decide drinks – I suspect we do not want ales that could be use to clean armor, eh? Since you have decided that my suggestions earlier are too much for our young guest of honor, I assume there will at least be dancers? I am even willing to concede that they should be dancing girls!" Zevran volunteered. He added under his breath, "If I cannot persuade him, he is clearly not interested in such things."

Sten raised his voice from his position in the shadows, standing as straight-backed as always. "I am not certain that I understand this human custom. Alistair is a warrior. He will have no interest in… dancing girls. Bloodsport. Gladiatorial combat. An opportunity to demonstrate his skills in battle. This will show the Grey Warden that he is a man who may continue to keep her safe even as she ceases her unwomanly displays and hangs up her sword."

Oghren guffawed, reaching out a stubby leg to kick the elf's swinging foot. "Har, he thinks that Elissa is going to hang up her sword. Ya better not let her hear that, or she'll chop you down to my height." He thought a second. "Ale and whores, er, dancin' girls – cards. Hot game of diamondback, or whatever you play up here on the surface. Don't let 'im bet his pants, though, less you want the girl to really kill him."

A glint of mischief flashed in Zevran's eyes for an instant at that before he suppressed it.

The bann rubbed his forehead for a moment. "I'm not really sure that combat would be appropriate, Sten. Let's bring the rest of this together, shall we?"