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There are many things he’s tolerated for the sake of his sister warden’s happiness. The witch being first and foremost. Followed closely by the lack of daily hot meals, regular brushes with death, and having to walk behind her when she’s wearing leather pants.
One thing he refuses to tolerate: that damned Zevran’s wandering hands and barely veiled innuendos when she’s finally acknowledged Alistair’s own interest in her.
That bloody elf was practically crawling into her lap as he leans over and tells her the bawdiest story Alistair had ever heard. His own ears were burning so hot he could feel them. Meanwhile, she’s laughing so hard that she’s actually snorting. A noble girl snorting!
“I can show you the move he used if you like. It will have to take place in my tent, of course,” the Assasin purred, smirking at her.
“Zev…” she grinned, shaking her head fondly.
Alistair clenched his fists. He was not going to butt in. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Of course she wouldn’t say yes. Maker knows what kind of diseases the bastard has.
“What a warm day it is,” Morrigan said softly next to him. He jumped, not knowing she was nearby. He swore one of these days he was going to keel over and it will be all her fault.
“Errr, yes?”
“And how lovely that we have a lake mere steps away to cool off in,” she continued, quirking an eyebrow.
Was she playing mind games again? She was. He knew it.
She sighed and nodded her head towards the giggling pair he’d been so fixated on moments before.
“Someone should help that one cool off a little, don’t you think?”
He grinned as he finally understood, and perhaps now had a smidgeon more tolerance for the witch. Only a smidgeon, though, mind you.
With a swiftness he wasn’t aware he possessed, he rushed towards Zevran and swooped him up, throwing him across his shoulder like a very wriggly sack of flour.
“Alistair, unhand me at once. I have killed men for less,” Zevran hisses.
Alistair ignores him and bounds for the waters, grinning happily once he reaches the edge.
“Have a nice dip!”
He heaves the elf towards the lake as hard as he can, observing with satisfaction as Zevran’s normally graceful form flails around wildly in the air. He hits the water and sinks for a few moments before rising and spitting out murky water.
“If you wanted me to get wet and dirty for you, Alistair, you simply had to say so.”
Alistair rolls his eyes and snickers as Morrigan joins him and raises her hand.
“Ah, you are here to help me out, yes? Thank you, my dear,” Zevran smiles sweetly and flutters his lashes.
Morrigan gives no warning before she flicks her hand and a whirlpool forms underneath the elf, driving the screeching Assassin away from the party.
“What have you two done?”
Alistair flinches as his sister warden joins them, quirking an eyebrow at the pair.
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Morrigan answers with a flippant wave of her hand. “It will merely take him to the other side of the lake. We’ll have a couple hours of peace at least. Now give this giant puppy some attention before he starts chewing our shoes, will you?”
His sister warden smiles knowingly up at him and grabs his hand, pulling him towards her tent.
“Come along, you big oaf.”