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Samahlen	By : BronxWench Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1569 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, and I make no money from this story.

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The Gamble

"This may not work," Morrigan said flatly.
"I wish to speak with First Enchanter Irving." Wraith eyed the helmed Templar, not without a certain wariness. There was an air of watchfulness about the holy knights, and the few mages Wraith had seen moved quietly and cautiously past them. Wraith had to wonder what sort of reparations had been exacted by the Templars after the Circle had been restored. While Knight-Commander Greagoir had seemed reasonable, some of the Templars had been more vengeful towards the mages even then.
"This may not work," Morrigan repeated, ignoring the Templar altogether.
"It has to work," Alistair insisted. "The alternative is, well, I don't even want to think about that."
The Templar had not moved, and Wraith raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Ser Templar?"
The Templar's head turned toward Morrigan, his helm dipping slightly. "This woman is– "
Wraith did not let him finish the sentence. "Assisting the Grey Wardens in their efforts against the Blight. That is all you need to know about her. The First Enchanter, please?"
"You do not need to defend me," Morrigan snapped, icy as ever, but she thawed enough to give Wraith a shadow of a smile. " 'Tis kind of you to do so, however. My thanks."
"I wouldn't hurry to thank me just yet," Wraith said dryly. "If this works, I'm sending you into the Fade."
"What?" Morrigan replied, her odd golden eyes narrowing in outrage, but Wraith cut her off with a quick gesture as an elderly mage walked up to them, his eyes surprisingly youthful.
"From your expression, it might be adduced that there is trouble afoot, trouble that only the Circle might circumvent," Irving said, the corners of his mouth twitching. "What seems to be amiss, Warden?"
Wraith nodded a greeting. "Irving. We have reason to believe Arl Eamon's son is possessed by a demon."
"Well, that certainly presents quite a conundrum, doesn't it?" Irving's bright eyes held Wraith's steadily. "What are you proposing?"
"I want to send someone into the Fade, to deal with the demon there." Wraith waited for the spate of objections he was sure would follow. Confronting a demon in the Fade where it was strongest was dangerous, but it was the only option that did not absolutely require someone to die.
Irving's eyes sparkled with interest. "Bold, and certainly not without considerable risk. There is no guarantee that whoever is sent into the Fade will succeed, in which case you may wind up with two abominations to dispose of, Warden."
Wraith merely raised an eyebrow. "Our other options were unacceptable."
"And what would those options have been?" Irving asked.
"The obvious one would be to kill the boy." Wraith's eyes darkened at the thought, remembering the fear in the child's eyes during a brief moment of lucidity. "The other option offered to us was a way to enter the Fade without lyrium."
"Indeed?" Irving's tone was utterly dry. "Well, we should have enough lyrium on hand to do this properly. I'll gather a team of mages and meet you at Redcliffe Castle." He began to turn, and paused. "Who were you planning to send? Wynne, I presume?"
"Wynne is a spirit healer," Wraith replied. "I need someone who can fight."
Irving's bright eyes regarded Morrigan for a long moment. "Ah, your apostate, eh? An interesting choice, Warden. You might just stand a chance of succeeding." He chuckled darkly as he walked away, and Wraith shivered.
"I'm glad we're trying this," Alistair said. He wrapped his arms around Wraith, the rocking of the ship doing as much as the rocking of Wraith's hips to make them both gasp a little.
"What, making love in a hanging berth on a fishing ship in the middle of Lake Calenhad?" Wraith replied, laughter in his voice.
Alistair huffed an answering laugh, his back arching slightly. "Well, yes, that too." His breath hitched as Wraith tightened around him. "You called in a favor to save Connor. But if we can do this, then no one dies, except the demon."
The boat dipped, and Alistair's cock churned within Wraith, pressing up against his prostate, and Wraith sucked in a sharp breath. "He's just a child. I couldn't kill him."
"Yes, but what Jowan offered..." Alistair said. His arms tightened a little around Wraith's waist.
"Wasn't an option," Wraith finished. "Blood magic? Isolde's life for Connor's?" His hips stilled a moment. "You asked me how I choose who lives and who dies. Sometimes I can't choose."
"Or won't," Alistair persisted. "It's a gamble, isn't it? That your pet witch will be good enough to kill the demon."
Wraith snorted, and rocked his hips, making Alistair moan a little. "As much as you hate her, Morrigan is powerful, and she has no interest in making deals with demons. She'll kill it, if only because the demon will insult her by attempting to corrupt her."
"You hope," Alistair retorted.
"Creators, Alistair," Wraith protested. "Can't we just make love and decide the fate of Ferelden later?" Another dip of the boat had Wraith's back arching this time, and he moaned softly, sparks behind his eyes as he ground down on Alistair's cock.
"What, you don't find this arousing?" Alistair pressed against Wraith, grinding Wraith's cock between their bellies. "Stimulating? Downright tantalizing?"
Wraith made a wordless sound of pure pleasure, his head falling back as he arched even more. The heat in his belly uncoiled and he spilled, slicking both their bellies with thick ropes of cum as he tightened around Alistair. Beneath him, Alistair bucked upwards, driving deeper into Wraith, all rhythm lost as he sought his own release. Wraith's head fell forward, his forehead resting against Alistair's, and he gasped as Alistair groaned and filled him with liquid heat.
"Maker's breath," Alistair managed, trembling a little as he clung to Wraith. "That was amazing."
"That, too," Wraith murmured, the laughter back in his voice.

Prompt word: Adduced
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