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Magic's Slave	By : chibichibi01 Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age. I own my PC Thomais. I don't own any of the NPCs, they all belong to Bioware. I'm also not making any money from this.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
ARGH. Short chapter is short, sorry about that. I still don't own any of the boys and please please please leave a review if you like the story! I need constant feedback to get better, so tell me what you like, don't like, what I'm weak on (Other than length) just please help!
Meanwhile, on the road between Denerim and Vigil's Keep, Alistair started setting up camp for the evening. He laid out the bedrolls and bustled around trying to get dinner started, all the while keeping an eye on Jowan, to make sure the mage didn't end up hurting himself. He pulled out the chopped lamb he'd pilfered from one of the cold rooms at the Vigil and tossed it in the pot he'd stuck on top of the fire.
Jowan stared. "Ser, what are you doing?"
Alistair looked up from where he was dumping more… things into the pot. "Oh uh, making dinner. You're hungry right? I know I am."
"Ah, yes, Ser, I am." Jowan wobbled his way over, taking a moment to watch as Alistair seemed to simply be adding whatever he grabbed next from his pack into the pot. Hesitating a moment, he rest his hand on the king's shoulder. "With all due respect, Ser, I overheard some people speaking of your cooking. If you don't mind, I'd like to try my hand at it." The king shouldn't be made to do his own cooking anyway.
Alistair chuckled. "That's fine with me. My cooking will kill us all, I'm sure." He retreated from the fire, content to let Jowan work. As he watched the mage, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. He had been made well aware of his ineptitude at cooking, but that still didn't stop him from wanting to learn how to get better at it.
Jowan, on the other hand, seemed to have a natural talent for it. He never once saw the mage measure his ingredients, doing everything by taste or with a critical eye. Wanting to get a closer look, he shuffled back over, peering over Jowan's shoulder to watch the stew starting to bubble merrily away as Jowan continued to sniff and taste herbs before tossing them in.
"Where did you learn to cook?"
Jowan let out a yelp, the dried plants spilling from his hands into the pot. A crackle of energy flared up around his hand as he spun around and started scrambling away as he tried to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. His eyes had gone wide and his breathing hitched.
Alistair stumbled back a step or two as well. "I'm sorry. Jowan, I'm sorry." He held up his hands, backing further away to give the mage the space he needed. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Jowan let out a whimper and shivered, trying to get his breathing under control. He wrapped his arms around his chest and took deep gulping breaths. When he could speak again he said, "I'm sorry, Ser." He ignored Alistair's apologies. "This was my fault. I'll make sure dinner isn't ruined."
Alistair rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Stop apologizing. This wasn't your fault." He shuffled backwards, farther away from the fire to give Jowan more room to breathe. "Please, continue. I'll just be...over here. Out of the way." He pointed off in a random direction. "Like I should have been in the first place," he muttered to himself.
Jowan inched forward cautiously and resumed his task, his gaze still flicking to the other man whenever he had a spare moment.
Thirty minutes later, Alistair dipped his spoon cautiously into the bowl of stew the mage had presented to him and took a tentative nibble.
Watching him from a few steps away, Jowan wrung his hands nervously, his mind flitting over all manner of reasons for Alistair's silence. Or rather the one big reason: he didn't like it. What his mind was really worrying over was exactly how the man was going to show his displeasure.
Another moment of silence. Another spoonful. The king chewed thoughtfully for a few moments before breaking into a grin. "This is great! Nearly perfect, in fact."
"Nearly, Ser?" This was it. He'd done his best but it still wasn't up to the standards Alistair expected. Taking solace in the fact that he tried was going to be of little help when his punishment came.
Alistair nodded and rummaged around in his bag before pulling out a wedge of cheese with tiny holes all through it. "Could you add this to it next time?" He spoke like a child wondering if they were going to get scolded for asking.
Jowan goggled at the wedge of cheese for a minute before clearing his throat. "What is it?"
"It's a type of cheese from Orlais." Alistair said excitedly waving it around. "They called it… Lorraine, I think"
Jowan frowned, wanting to taste it before adding anything to the food he was cooking, but decided to not press his luck. "I… Yes, Ser. Anything you want, Ser."
Alistair's face lit up with delight.
Jowan continued to stare on in confusion, especially as Alistair eagerly returned to his meal. That had been...unexpected but at least he seemed happy enough. Feeling a pinch in his stomach, he rested his hands against it to try and stave off the feeling. Alistair was ladling seconds by the time the pain had him feeling light-headed. "Ah, Ser?" he said hesitantly, hoping what Anders had told him was true. "May I have a bowl of my own?"
Alistair stared at him, spoon raised halfway to his mouth. "What?"
Jowan dropped to his knees and lowered his eyes. "Sorry, Ser. I should know better than to ask."
"I'm just wondering why you asked at all." Alistair lowered his spoon and continued, "Of course you're allowed to have some. Eat as much as you want! You need to gain muscle after all. Can't have you wasting away."
Jowan flinched. So that's how he wants me. Strong. Healthy. Able to fight. To resist. "Yes, Ser." He slumped.
When they'd finished their meal, Jowan tidied up while Alistair settled himself into his bedroll on the opposite side of camp.
Jowan watched from his bedroll until he was certain the other man was asleep. Quietly as he could, he rose and crossed to the other bedroll, crawling his way underneath the covers, pressing his back to Alistair's chest. His shivers never ceased but he stayed put. He was determined to pay his Master back in the way he knew was going to be required of him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he could do it on his own terms. Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, he rolled over and began running his hands over Alistair's chest.
Alistair made a deep noise in his chest, almost like a purr, before rousing from his slumber. Cracking an eye open he jerked away with a curse. "What in all the Maker's Hells are you doing!"
Jowan squared his jaw. "Paying you back for what you've done for me."
Alistair stared at him, his face a mixture of pity, anger, and exasperation. "You don't owe me a thing! I did what I did because it was right, not because I wanted something out of it. Besides, I… I like women, Jowan."
"That never stopped any of the other Templar."
"Maker's Breath." Alistair let out a soft exhale. "Go back to your bedroll, Jowan. I'm not going to ask anything of you. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. You can sleep in peace." He placed a hand on Jowan's shoulder and gently shoved the mage away. "Go to sleep. Over there." He closed his eyes and left a bewildered Jowan wandering back to his own bedroll.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Magic's Slave