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Strangers with Cookies	By : pirouette Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 9211 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age/Bioware, its characters, or any content used for the basis of this fanfiction. I am making no money from this work.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter Eleven: �People are not simple. They
cannot be defined for easy reference in the manner of: 'the elves are a lithe,
pointy-eared people who excel at poverty.'�

When they stumble upon Zathrian in the main floor of the
ruin, Sten half-expects Adhara to kill him then and there. The conversation
begins angrily, and only devolves further when she begins insisting that he
take responsibility for the deaths of his clansmen.
�Speak with the Lady, Zathrian. Listen to the werewolves.�
Her voice is shaking.
�What do I have to gain from speaking to mindless beasts?�
�If you don't, I'll make sure every clan from here to Nevarra
knows that you betrayed your people.� Her eyes are narrow, but alight with a
rage that, disturbingly, he finds very pretty.
That threat appears to hold weight: Zathrian follows them
into the depths of the ruin, though he is not cowed enough by Adhara's rage and
the snarling of the werewolves forming an ever-tightening circle around them to
agree to their request. Sten keeps his hand to Asala; he does not like the way
the beasts' leader keeps snapping at Adhara. But she continues to stare at him
calmly, arms crossed.
One bite. All it would take is one bite. Either this has not
crossed her mind, or she trusts the werewolves. He is not sure which option is
more worrisome.
But the bite does not come. Zathrian demands that she kill
the Lady, and when the werewolves begin shouting that they all must die,
Adhara turns instead on the Dalish keeper. �I'll make you end the curse, you
selfish bastard. How many more will you allow to suffer like Arthas?�
�As many as it takes, da'len. You weren't there. You
didn't see. And if you had just killed the wolf like I'd told you, the hunters
would be cured now.�
She howls and draws her sword, lunging at him before the
others are ready, and takes a block of ice to the chest. When she goes down,
Sten steps forward to shield her, and�parshaara, the trees have come to life.
The arishok will not like what he has to say about the Dalish.
This is what happens when mages are given power. Had Zathrian
been properly leashed when his powers developed, he would have harmed neither
human nor kindred. So many of this country's problems seem to be caused by
mages: the massacre at the Tower, the poisoning of the arl, and now this.�
The battle is not short, and it is not easy: Zathrian is an
old mage, and powerful, and they have no way to protect against his magic. But
eventually Adhara grows close enough to knock him down with a shield bash to
his stomach, and manages to keep him occupied and winded while the others take
down the trees.
�Enough!� he cries, watching her sword descend toward his
neck. Again, Sten predicts a death that does not come. The blade stops short of
the killing blow, cutting into his robes and nicking the flesh of his shoulder.
The mage does not feel it; he is too injured already. He sinks to the stone
beneath him, using his staff to keep him upright. "I'll do it."
Adhara doesn't lower her blade. "I don't believe
you."
"Either lifting the curse kills me, or you do. Let me
at least die in a manner my clan can respect."
"You deserve no�" she pulls the blade
toward her, slicing further into his shoulder. Around them, the werewolves are howling,
mad with the scent of blood.
"He is of no use to anyone dead," the Lady
insists, stepping through the throng of enraged creatures surrounding the mage.
"Shame. So many have died for his pride, and it's
fear of being shamed that changes his mind, not remorse!" The blade
moves again, and this time the mage cries out and falls further against the
stone.
But the Lady's touch soothes Adhara just as it does the
werewolves. Zathrian bleeds, but still draws breath. He cancels the spell
maintaining the curse and crumples to the ground before them as the Lady is unbound
and the werewolves writhe and return to human form.�
When it is all over, Adhara kicks his cooling body once and
then storms out of the ruin. Her anger sustains her through their return to
camp, where she must tell the Dalish that their keeper and clanmates are dead.
But they know her, and they trust her telling, and so do not mourn so much as
cry from betrayal. Those whose loved ones had been transformed into werewolves
are particularly horrified to learn that their leader knew how to save them, yet
didn't. What horrifies Sten is that they are all surprised that this
happened.
Mages. The Dalish allow themselves to be led by mages. No
wonder they are a broken people.
After she has passed the news on, she takes them out of the
camp. "They'll need to mourn tonight, and it would be rude of me to let
you all remain." They pitch their tents a quarter-mile away, and as soon
as she is sure their fire is stoked and someone is preparing a meal, Adhara
disappears further into the forest. Sten watches her leave them, wondering if
he should follow. She is not a quiet person; he knows that now. She might want
to discuss what happened. But he paces the edge of the camp until the Templar
orders him after her.
�She talks to you, Sten. So go talk to her.�
�I have no idea where she went.�
�She'll find you. Just go.� The Templar shoves at his
arm until he steps out of the camp and into the woods.
Adhara does find him. She finds him and silently moves him
into a sitting position beneath a large tree, then curls up in his lap and
presses her face into his chest with a sigh. He thinks for a moment, and then
runs a hand over her hair. When she takes her ponytail out, he decides that is
encouragement for him to bury his fingers in her hair and brush it out.
�I'm an idiot,� she says.
Sten hadn't expected that. He flounders for words, but she
saves him by continuing. �I've been looking down on the human nobility, and
treating Alistair and Leliana awfully, and.... But my people are no better. I
went out into the world and was determined to look down my nose at everything,
and I come back and see my people's leaders make the same selfish....�
her words trail off. �And I still don't want to leave them. I don't want to
fight the Blight. I want to stay with them and take my chances.�
�I understand,� he replies.
�You? With all your talk of duty?� He does not like the tone
with which she emphasizes the word.
�Duty does not make you want to perform the task at
hand,� he explains to her hair. �It just means you have no alternative. When
the arishok sent me and my brothers, I did not wish to leave. And while I seek
his answer, I miss my people.�
�But you're still doing it. You could even go home
now, but you chose not to.�
�I am several countries away from my home. That makes it easier.
If our travels led us there, somehow, I would be just as pained by the thought
of saying goodbye again as you are.�
Adhara sighs and is silent for several minutes. Sten
continues petting her hair, and eventually he feels her relax against him. �I think
that's the most I've ever heard you say at once.�
�You are the only one of the party worth speaking to, kadan.�
When she laughs, he scowls. �I am being serious.�
�I know. It's just funny that I'm sitting her feeling like
an idiot for being standoffish... and yet I still agree with you.� She shakes
her head and wraps her arms around his neck. �Hug me.�
He obeys, and presses his face into her hair, enjoying her
closeness. He tightens his arms, pulling her against him and feeling the
contours of her body through their clothes. It is her smell�he can't
stop the sudden urge to lift her chin and press her lips to his. But if her
groan and the quickness with which her tongue finds his is any indication, she
doesn't mind.
Sten allows her to strip his shirt and shove him backwards
onto the ground. She perches on his stomach, straddling him, and begins to take
tiny nips at his neck. Each time her teeth press into his skin, he becomes more
aware of the heat of her breath, the feel of her fingers splayed across his
chest, how his heartbeat is steadily increasing. He wants her skin against his,
but when he reaches for her shirt, she bites him hard enough to hurt. He
grumbles, but rests his hands on her thighs, holding her against him even
though it is clear that she has no intention of going anywhere.
Arousal is such a strange sensation; her touch makes him
feel both violent and weak. He could break her with his hands, tear her clothes
from her body in his need... if he could only lift them. It is the same as the
last time, in the inn, only this time he knows what is in store for him, and
the anticipation alone is enough to make his thoughts vague.
Adhara rises, sliding her fingers against his cheek until
his eyes open, then pulls her shirt over her head and unclasps her bra with one
hand, exposing her chest to the fading light. She smiles at him and lifts his
hands to her skin, encouraging him to feel. Sten teases at her nipples until
she bites at her lip and groans happily. When she presses her naked chest to his,
arching her back and drawing his attention to her curves, he groans and pulls
her to him for another kiss. He forces his tongue into her mouth and remembers
with a sudden thrill what it is like to be inside her. When his fingers find
the waistband of her trousers and tug, she begins to shimmy out of them
obligingly, exposing more of her wonderful skin without even changing the pace
of the kiss. His fingers explore her back as she sighs into his mouth, and he
feels his eyes closing in relief. Something about the way she is breathing,
ragged and needful against him, is relaxing.� ��
She turns and begins unfastening his trousers. Sten raises
his head to watch her and is granted a lovely view of the backs of her thighs
as she leans on her knees and elbows. His hand slides between her legs, and she
presses back against his fingers, encouraging him to push and�he had forgotten
how warm she was. He wiggles them experimentally, enjoying her heat and
softness and wetness, and trying desperately to think what this reminded him
of. Something he had wanted to do last time, but hadn't�
Yes. Sten turns her toward him again for a kiss, pressing
his fingers more insistently into her to make her moan into his mouth. He wants
her to make that noise again. No, more than that, he wants to listen to her
until her voice is hoarse and feel the thrill that the sound sends through his
nerves. But he also wants to taste her.
Parshaara. Perhaps he can do both. He takes her by the hips
and pulls her forward until she is straddling his face. When his tongue laps
against her skin, she gasps and clutches at his hands, which are resting on her
thighs. Sten spends a few moments testing for the best reactions before
discovering a particular area that she seems to enjoy the feel of his tongue
against. As he focuses on that, her fingers lace with his, and her weight
shifts between her ankles and knees, steadying her.
Her noises prove as addictive as her smell; he could lie
here in the dirt and listen to them for hours. She begins with quiet sounds in
the back of her throat, almost as though she is agreeing with the actions of
his tongue. As he gains knowledge of what she will enjoy, they grow louder, and
longer, tinged with what almost sounds like pain, but he knows better now. And
so he licks harder, and faster, and does not slow down when she grabs his
braids and begins rocking against his tongue.
Sten's patience is rewarded with wonderful shout: she
freezes, tosses her head back, and cries out throatily. Seconds later, she
frees his hair and falls forward onto her hands, panting above him. He takes a
deep breath, feeling his blood racing through his veins, and realizes that he
cannot wait any longer. But he can't remember how to tell her, or what to say,
and so he digs his fingers into the soil and groans in frustration.
Adhara understands. She kisses him until his eyes close
quite against his will, then straddles his hips and guides him inside of her
with a pleased whimper. She slides around him as her hips shift up and down,
and it is his turn to groan. When she laughs at the sound, his eyes fly open,
and he is rewarded with the sight of her naked atop him, hands braced against
his stomach as she increases their pace with a happy gasp.
Beautiful. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, partially
obscuring her tattoos and accentuating her faint smile. When her eyes meet his,
her pupils are dilated, darkened, and their lids are heavy. They fall shut as
she arches her back and begins to moan again. He allows his to close, as well,
and listens to her, and feels her against him. She is strong, and soon they are
both very out of breath.
Sten enjoys how frantic she makes him feel. He wants to
thrust upward to meet her, but is worried about hurting her, and so forces
himself to allow her to set their pace. His patience is rewarded with another
of her lovely, hoarse cries, and as she falls forward against his stomach he
realizes that it is over. She plants gentle kisses on his stomach as he tenses
and gasps beneath her, feeling the world swim and sound cease entirely. For
several moments, her skin against his is all that there is, and his blood in
his ears the only sound to hear.�
Adhara is draped across his stomach when sounds begin to
come back to him: the leaves rustling above them, the quiet calls of forest
birds waking for the night, and her labored breathing, which matches his. Her
eyes are closed, her cheek pressed to his shirt, and when he pulls her hair
away from her face he finds that she is smiling.
They don't speak; she relaxes against him until the air
grows chilly, then cleans and redresses, leading him by the hand back toward
the camp. She drops her fingers from his as they return to view, but when they
settle near the campfire with the others, she perches in his lap.
�Come here, everyone,� she commands, and the assassin
wanders in to join them. When they are all assembled, looking to her for
orders, she sighs and shakes her head. �I owe all of you an apology.�
�I... what?� Alistair replies.
She nods. �Especially you. The next time I call you a shemlen,
hit me.�
�No. No! You'd hit me back!�
�Well, yes, but�ugh,� she shakes her head. �That's not the
point. Today made me realize that I have no reason to act....� Her eyes scan
across them all, and he feels her sigh. �I'm sorry. I've been acting more like
a Dalish than a Grey Warden, and... I think my keeper would be ashamed of me.�
�Adhara, you really need to help me out here,� the Templar
frowns. �I'm worried I'll say something wrong and upset you.�
She bristles, and then begins to laugh. �What I'm trying to
say, you sod, is that I'm a Grey Warden, and I need to act more like one of
those and less like a Dalish.�
The Templar's brow furrows. �So... we're not shems? Just
like that?��
�No, you're definitely shemlen. But you're my equals,
not my....� Adhara trails off awkwardly, and sighs. �I don't know. Does that
make sense?�
�I... sure. Yes, yes it does,� he adds in a rush when the
priestess hits him.
�Good. We're leaving here in the morning before I have a
chance to change my mind and run off into the woods and seek my clan, you
know.� At those words, she presses into Sten with a tired sigh and asks the
priestess to play them a song. To everyone's surprise, she begins to sing in elvish,
and instead of bristling, Adhara closes her eyes and listens calmly.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Strangers with Cookies