#something productive?

Thank you for the ask @ofmistandrain! I’ll do this for Ru & Leliana (with a cameo of Alistair and Baraneth lol)

11. …in joy.

Ruinel/Leliana

“Welll they’ll say Andraste can’t have some big old smelly wardog. But all Ferelden knows it right: Our sweet Lady needed someone who would warm her feet at night…” 

With only the four Grey Wardens and their party left in the main hall of Eamon’s Denerim estate, Alistair’s voice boomed off the wooden walls and vaulted ceiling, coupling with Baraneth’s own shaking-with-laughter voice as they stumbled through the verses. Even caught snugly in the circle of Alistair’s arms, with the patchwork of her skirts spread across their legs she still reached down to scrunch up the happy, panting face of her mabari in time with the off-key singing; who was sitting dutifully by her side begging for the remnants of food on the table and wagging his nubby tail at his giggling mistress.  

The remnants of braided crowns of forget-me-nots, gillyflowers and blue violets sat askew on the newly wed’s heads, shedding petals as Baraneth abandoned Ailwife’s fur to drape her arms across Alistair’s shoulders again, cutting off his now-solo as the voices of their companions dropped away singing with a giddy kiss. 

Amid a chorus of fuss and faux-dramatic gagging from Zevran and Ohgren Ruinel laughed softly and rested her head back against Leliana’s shoulder. While the others had been up and about, celebrating and doing what some may have passed as dancing, Ruinel had settled down on one of the long, wooden benches and remained there for most of the night. In part it was her heavy-headed mabari Orion sprawled across her legs, big brown eyes glancing at her from time to time like he was making sure his charge was still there, and in part it was the healing she had left to do after Fort Drakon that kept her tied to the bench. Leliana had slipped behind her a little while ago, preferring to be close and comment on their companion’s antics from afar as the celebrations wound down. 

Her fingers paused in weaving and unweaving the flowers tangled through Ruinel’s hair, an inquisitive hum brushing the air by her ear. 

“They’re absolutely ridiculous.” 

“Who? Zevran and Oghren or the two lovebirds?” Leliana asked, amusement lancing through her words. “I think they’re sweet.”

Before a comment could follow the same verse started up again, only to be cut off by Baraneth’s loud shushing. “Alistair! You only know that one verse!”

“And you have something better, my dear?” 

After some casting about and some garbled suggestions from their companions that didn’t seem to offer any salvation from being put on the spot, Leliana finally sang over the din; “Three little empresses, which of them is true? A simple glass of...”

Whatever she had called out must have rung some bell as Baraneth picked it up and the others soon followed, creating a song of enthusiastic clapping along and laughter. Ailwife grumbled along to the noise, a low, rumbling noise that wasn’t a howl but wasn’t a form of dissent and Orion lifted his square snout to add his two cents on the song. 

Leliana snickered at the noise. “That one will keep them entertained.” Dropping her voice conspiratorially she added: “Just don’t tell them it’s Orlesian, they may be deposed before the coronation for it.”