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Tainted Dreams	By : wyldehart Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All characters and Dragon Age are property of Bioware/EA. I made no money, sadly.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Elissa and Alistair made their way through the market in search of their Orlesian companion. When they found him, he was drugged out of his mind and lying on his stomach with his rump exposed and the mage seated in his favorite chair counting the gold coins one at a time. The bolt was still embedded in the tight muscle of his buttock. Elissa could see it gleaming in the lamp light and from what she could tell, nothing had been done. She was furious. She marched up to the mage and tapped her foot until he acknowledged her. He looked up, startled to see two very menacing Grey Wardens looming over him, arms crossed, looking dangerous.
"So tell me," Alistair began as he came across to the front of the mage. "What were you planning to do besides swindle our friend here? I believe he paid you to remove that bolt? It's still there I see."
The mage looked at the table and then smiled nervously. "I'm no healer. I don't do that sort of thing. I told him that but he insisted I try and, well, I accepted and after drugging him, I decided I would rather operate on his coin purse than on his arse. That's a much nicer task anyway. A lot less blood."
Elissa looked over the mage and caught Alistair's eye. "That's a rather frank admission of guilt," she noted. She drew her dagger and placed the point against the back of his neck where the spine met his skull. The point drew a bead of red that oozed down his neck. She felt him stiffen against him. "You know that we were both trained as Templars and you just happen to be an apostate. What's even better is that you also happen to be bilking the innocent and you know what? That really pisses me off. Take the coins, Alistair."
Ferelden's king smirked as he removed the pouch and its contents from the mage's hands. "This all his?" he asked.
"Most of it. Um, almost all of it. Well, all of it. Wait. You're not robbing me, are you?" the mage whined to his captors. "Good people don't rob! That's a bad thing to do."
Alistair shook his head as he pocketed the coins. "We're taking back our friend's coin. That's not technically robbing you because it wasn't yours to begin with. My lady, if we are done strong-arming this fellow, I would appreciate it if we left with our friend."
She nodded but before she left, she walked around the front of the mage and hauled him up by the front of his tunic until they were nose to nose. "Bad mage! Do not steal from innocents! As it is, I have every intention of reporting you for this and you will no longer be allowed to sell your wares here."
"But-but-but if I go, there will no longer be a mage-craft merchant outside Orzammar! Where will people go?" the mage asked, his voice pleading. Elissa shoved him back into his seat and walked away.
"Be thankful we're not reporting you to the Chantry. Let's go before I cut that pathetic look off his face," she muttered, lifting the tent so that Alistair could half-drag a semi-comatose, drooling Ambrose out of the tent.
"You are a wicked, wicked woman. It makes me thankful you're my wife." Alistair remarked as they propped the drugged man between them. He had an arm across the shoulders of each Warden and for some reason, his hand kept migrating to Elissa's breast. She smiled at her husband sweetly and he rolled his eyes. "Noo… Don't you play sweet and innocent with me. I know you better! It's why I made you queen. You're too dangerous otherwise." She laughed and smacked the offending hand as it reached yet again for her breast. "I hope he doesn't think he'll actually grab anything. You're sealed tighter than raw clam in that suit."
Elissa nodded but smacked the hand anyway. There was an iota of conscious thought behind that hand and it needed to learn you don't grope ladies without asking first. They were walking toward the Gates of Orzammar with Ambrose propped up between them. He was on the edge of consciousness, head lolling, and drool oozing from the corner of his lips. His eyes were dilated and huge and he kept leering at her. Once close to the steps, something gripped him and he dug his heels in.
"Whe' we goin'?" he demanded, struggling against the pair.
Alistair pointed to the Gates. "Orzammar. We have business with the king and you have business with a real healer."
"N-n-no! No! Musht… keep goin'! Orley! M'wife… Musht not delay… or… gone! All will… be… gone!" He pushed against them and staggered away from their grasp. Alistair stared at Elissa wearing a shocked expression. They caught up to him quickly as he stumbled in a patch of ice and sprawled to the ground. Ambrose cried out in agony as he landed, hard, on the bolt-pierced side of his posterior. Blood could be seen on the ice. It must have been oozing through a seam in his pants. Before they could ask him what he was talking about, he vomited up breakfast as well as a sickening green fluid that Elissa recognized immediately.
She looked up at Alistair as she kneeled beside the retching Orlesian and frowned. "He needs a healer at once. That's Deathroot and, depending on how much he was fed, it could kill him. Also… I think he's bleeding again." They tried to help him to his feet but the man fought them, repeating "no" like it was some mantra that would help him escape. It was rather like listening to a toddler, Alistair decided. He looked pointedly at his wife and said, "Think of this as training for your future…" She stuck her tongue out at him. Right. Very mature for the mother of his children let alone the queen of Ferelden.
They managed to get him to stop trying to escape but soon realized it was because he had passed out. Alistair sighed. "YOU want to carry him?" Elissa's gentle lift of her eyebrow, the subtle twist of her lips and the firmness with which she crossed her arms gave Alistair his answer. He sighed again. "Great. I get all the hard work while you get to just stand and point." He hauled Ambrose up over his shoulders and waved Elissa on. She smiled and pointed to the gates causing Alistair to grunt before kissing her cheek as she walked past him. "See? What'd I say?" But as they walked, a piece of neatly folded paper tumbled from Ambrose's pocket.
"Wait," Alistair said. Elissa stopped. "What's that?" he asked as she kneeled down and picked it up.
"I don't know if I should read it. It could be personal…" she said, turning it in her fingers.
"I think it's important that you do. It might help us figure out why he wants you." His logic was good. His words made sense. Damn him. Reluctantly, Elissa sighed and unfolded it before she knew what she was doing. "Hmm. It says, 'Our deal is firm. Do as I ask or it's over. Bring the Warden Commander, no-one else and you will have it all back.' It's not signed. The letters are… very neat. Educated. Like yours. Alistair, Ambrose must be in trouble! This confirms it. It's not Orlais that needs me but… Someone else."
Ferelden's king narrowed his eyes darkly. "Why didn't the fool just say so!"
"Fear? Maybe his wife is in trouble and that's why he's been pushing us. So it's possible there is no Darkspawn threat and everything else was just a ruse to get us to Orlais so that we can deal with his hostage problem. Do you think?" Elissa was chewing thoughtfully on her lip as she thought it over. Alistair stared wide-eyed, at her for what felt like a long time.
After several moments, he said, "You are not going anywhere alone with him. That is final. We do this entirely together or not at all. I was willing to let you see this through before but now… Now I am afraid of what might happen to you, to our child… to us all. It's all growing very complicated."Her only reply was to nod. There were times when she could reason with him and other times when his obstinacy was impossible to overcome. She picked her battles with him carefully. They continued to the gates in silence.
They were greeted by the Gate Guard and ushered inside. The warm, smoky air was almost stifling after the cold, crisp air outside. A dwarven woman in dark-green leathers stalked up them with long purposeful strides. "Finally, you've arrived. I was getting tired of waiting on you." She indicated that Ambrose should be placed on the marble floor of the Hall of Heroes for her inspection. Thankfully, happy to be free of his burden, Alistair rolled the comatose man onto the cold floor so that he was face down. The Dwarven woman, her thick black curls hiding her unusually pretty face, looked him over carefully. Unnecessarily, she asked, "Now, what's up with him? Besides the deathroot poisoning? He reeks of it. And something else."
"I shot him with a cross-bow bolt," Elissa admitted casually.
The dwarf smirked up her. "Did he deserve it?" she asked.
Elissa shrugged. "I was half asleep. I suppose I thought he deserved it at the time that I shot him. He was trying to roust me from a nightmare and I think I mistook him for a Darkspawn. I tried to get him to let me take it out but he refused and hedged his bets on the mage outside the gates."
"That idiot mage again… We keep having to fix his stupid attempts at healing and I for one, have been getting tired of it. So what if he's only hurting Surfacers? I'm the one who has to repair the ones he screws up! I'll see to it that his contract's canceled and he's run off for good this time.
"Sooo… Good ol' 'ass-bolt'," the Dwarf remarked coolly with a sardonic twist of her mouth as she checked the wound. "It's got a small infection but otherwise looks okay. Close to the surface of the skin. Easily operable. Warrior Caste Trainees get it all the time down here. Nothing we can't handle. It's just like pulling out a splinter. The poison… That's something else. I'll have to get our herbalist to mix something up for 'im. Either way, your friend'll live, give or take a few stitches and his pride." She turned to the two fellows coming up behind her with a litter and gestured to the patient. "Ass-bolt, boys. Be careful." The two male dwarves heaved Ambrose onto the litter and lifted it up to their shoulders. They carefully made their way through the hall under the healer's watchful smile.
"Your friend will be in the infirmary in the Diamond Quarter. I'll see to it he has some space to himself though I can't guarantee there won't be another ass-bolt victim there as well. I figure three days with his butt up in the air and he'll be good as new. You two have business with the Walking Dead over there so I'll leave you be."
The Healer grunted and followed her assistants down the vast hall the Dwarves erected to the Paragons of the past. Idealized monuments, larger than life, loomed over them, their names neatly carved into each base along with an explanation of their contribution. This was the Dwarves' "religion"; it was their history… fact… something tangible to give the present faith for the future. It was easy to see why the Dwarves followed this reasoning as it was steeped in, well, reason. Though she'd been through the Hall of Heroes many times, Elissa still felt a chill of awe as she walked among the massive statues.
Near the exit to the Commons, a dwarf stood head to foot in Amor created by the Dead Legion for their use. It was expertly crafted and seemed carved like the stone the metal was extracted from. The lines were severe, practical but not without beauty. His helm was tucked under his arm and bright red hair flowed across his chest to blend in with the braids of his beard. His "smile" was a surly twist of his lips as he saw them approach. He was young and unfamiliar, his face already scarred. The last Captain of the Dead Legion had been something of a friend to them so they wondered why they were being met by this fellow. Alistair greeted the Dwarf with a hearty handshake that might have left the human with broken bones had he not been wearing dragonbone gauntlets.
"Where's…?" Alistair asked. The Dwarf smiled. "My predecessor? Went to the stone some six months ago. He died fighting a swarm of them, he did. I hope I go that way. He must have taken down fifteen? Twenty? More? Ah. Hero in my opinion. Welcome back to Orzammar though I understand you had no intention of actually staying. I apologize for that. It might have been my own fault. So I'll make this short and sweet so that I don't waste either my time or yours.
"You know that we of the Legion of the Dead watch for Darkspawn as they rise to the surface. Those that go too far, die. It is our hope, each of us, that we return to the stone killing as many of these beasties as we can. Living or dying has no meaning since we are already dead and have nothing to lose. Well, our other 'job' is to watch and learn. Darkspawn do something weird, we like you Wardens to know about it especially since it's your folk who have to deal with 'em on the surface. Well, they're doing something weird."
Alistair held up his hand. "Wait. Define… weird."
"About two months ago, our deepest scouts noticed that they had begun to move. It was a horde. But not just any horde. It was a horde of the smart ones. The spell-casters, alphas, you get the idea. The stupid ones, the followers, were getting left behind, almost as if something's calling rest of 'em. I don't think it's another Archdemon. No… Too soon. But what they're up to is anyone's guess. Strange thing is, they appear to be heading west. All of 'em. Know anything about it?"
The pair gazed at one another with identical expressions of annoyance and concern, eyes wide and lips tightly shut. The dwarf might have laughed had the situation not been so dire. Elissa sighed at the same time her husband did and nodded. "We didn't but we do now. There are things afoot in Orlais and we are headed there to address those problems. I fear this… situation we are dealing with is much bigger than we could have imagined." She sighed again and leaned against Alistair. He took the back-pack with the winter purchases from her and slung it over his shoulder to rest opposite their supplies and his sword and shield. He now resembled some kind of two-legged pack-mule with a blunt face and blond hair. He looked nothing like the king he was and he was happy with that. For now.
The Legion of the Dead captain cleared his throat. "Well, I told you what I know. It's your turn, my friends. Good luck out there. You may need it. Ancestors guide you."
Alistair nodded. "Ancestors guide you, my friend." He looked down at Elissa, who looked weary; her spirit faded, her body exhausted and he encircled her shoulders with his arm. "Come on, love. The guard there said he would get us a place to stay and the king will most likely feed us. It's been a long day." She nodded against him and allowed him to draw her deeper into Orzammar.

The king was every bit as hospitable as he'd ever been. He gave them a room in the Royal Palace, fed them at his own table and treated them as honored guests. Elissa was quick to remove her armor and dress in a plain gown of silky cotton and soft leather boots. It was a travel-dress, designed for ease of use and comfort rather than style. The dress also made it visibly clear that she was pregnant; her belly pushed the thin fabric away from her legs. It took little time for Harrowmont to pick up on it. Alistair, proud father-to-be that he was, sang her praises and even got her to laugh.
But there was no doubt that she had had enough of the day. At some point during the visit, Harrowmont smiled and nodded his bearded chin at Alistair's dozing wife. He realized that the loving weight of his wife's body was silent and she was breathing slowly, deeply in the breathing of the sleep-deprived. She was more at peace now than she had seemed in recent days. He apologized to King Harrowmont and scooped his lovely red-headed bride into his strong arms and carried her sleeping form away to the huge, comfortable bed they reserved for human visitors.
He carefully laid her in it and removed her boots, the dress and gently cradled her head in a pillow's soft embrace. Then he stripped himself of his clothing and blew out the candle before lying down beside her. Tenderly, Alistair pulled his pregnant wife into his arms so that he held her tightly against him, the length of her along his muscular body. He felt her nestle her cheek against his chest and slide her fingers around his neck. He smiled and exhaled in contented silence, his heart filled with adoration and admiration for the miracle he held.
To Be Continued…
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Tainted Dreams