"If you're finding it so difficult," said Morrigan as she sat astride Alistair, the annoyance curling up out of her belly and into her voice, "Just imagine someone else."

The pathetic Templar. So in love with the Warden that all of Morrigan's tricks were not rousing an inch from him. She was not an unattractive woman, she knew. In fact, her looks had been a weapon more than once. But this stubborn, pathetic excuse for a warrior was resisting everything she had.

"Someone else?" he said, his voice doubtful, "I can try. Just don't talk or you'll ruin the whole thing."

Alistair closed his eyes, and Morrigan rolled hers. "Very well," she said.

"Shhh," said Alistair, and for a few moments he lay there, completely silent, eyes closed. Morrigan crossed her arms, frustrated and more than a bit disgruntled.

"Solona," Alistair suddenly said, and reached for her. Leaning forward, Morrigan let Alistair take her into his arms. Whatever would get the boy to finish the job would be fine by her. But she was nonetheless surprised at the passion in his kiss, at the warmth in his voice, and the strange answering song in her own heart as he called his lover's name against her body.

After it was over, he leaned on his elbow and looked at her, a cheeky grin on his face. "Thanks for the advice," he said.

She scowled in reply. "Let's just thank the stars it's over, and hope that we never have to do anything like that again."

"You and me both," he said and yawned before rolling over to sleep.