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Warrior or Whore	By : dansamacabre Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 6302 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Dragon Age world, plot, and characters belong to Bioware. I recieve no money for writing this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Prolouge
- 2-One
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- 2
     Miera gazed at the clear pool longingly, gauging whether the anxiety of being a nude female in the middle of the forest was worth a luxurious wade in the shallow pond. As she sat on the edge of the water, her own smell now disgustingly apparent to her, the Warden pondered the temperature of the pool and noted how it was mostly unhindered by trees from the sun, only about six feet deep, and motionless. She'd been training for a week straight, and being of the only female Wardens, Miera was hesitant to bathe in public, this close to camp. Her clothes and body were filthy and eventually she would have to give in. Gingerly, she removed a boot and slipped her foot into the pond. It felt like bathwater. “Holy Maker,” she moaned.
     After taking a thorough survey of the area from where she was sitting, Miera gathered her long dark hair into a messy bun on top of her head and stripped off her armor. As she slipped over the cliff into the pool, the warden nearly died of pleasure. The feel of the warm water against her bare skin was absolute heaven. Only one thing could make this experience better. As she turned around to retrieve her knapsack and the sizable bottle of Orlesian wine within it, Miera was assaulted with the image of two large iron boots. Possessively, Miera fingered the wine closer to the edge of the pool as she greeted Loghain and his perpetual scowl.
     She brought the bottle to her lips and took a swig as she gazed up at him. The clear water provided no cover for her assets, so he was getting a rather privileged view. “Let me guess: taking a stroll through the forest to get firewood? Or have you conveniently come to refill your canteen?” Miera asked, displeased with the thief of her solitude.
     “I came to watch you undress.” Loghain said, straight-faced. He crouched down to her level, the scowl now inching into a bit of a smirk. “Can you blame me?” He said, plucked the bottle of wine from her hand, took a swig, and displayed perhaps the cockiest smile Miera had ever seen in her life. Miera pulled the wine back away from him and held it possessively against her chest, cradled in between her large breasts, which she noticed Loghain eyeing through the water.
     “Please,” He announced, as he made himself more comfortable at the bank of the pond, “Don’t let me interrupt you.” He moved Miera’s knapsack to the side, creating a seat for himself between it and her discarded armor.
     “What… exactly… do you assume you’re interrupting?” Miera said coyly. Her hands began to stroke the neck of the wine bottle.
     “Certainly you’ve come here to wash.” Loghain growled, “But I’ve found that baths are useful for another activity, but being a noblewoman you must not know what I’m referring to, correct?”
     “I’m no girl, Loghain.” Miera responded.
     “Show me.” He crooned. It was a dare Miera was anxious to fulfill.
     “One condition.” Miera said, a playful smile gracing her lips. “If I am to act like you aren’t here, you aren’t allowed to speak, to move, or to touch me. Do you understand, Teyrn?”
     Another smirk from him. A rare movement on his usually stoic face. Each one of those she got from him was like being rewarded with a piece of candy.
     “I understand…regrettably,” Loghain confirmed.
     “Very well.” Miera said, and took a deep breath. She threw a quick nervous glance at him and closed her eyes. She’d been touching herself to his image for weeks now, a fact his inflated ego need not be aware of.
     She remembered one particular night when she saw him looming over a smattering of maps on a large wooden table in one of the pavilion tents. It was past dusk and the candle on the center of the table cast a yellow glow over the canvas. His hands clutched the end of the table and his tree-trunk like arms created a mountain with his head as the peak, bent in thought. He stood like that for a long moment, no doubt searching for some vital location in his mind, drawing it from his pictorial memory of when he had visited it on foot during his younger days in battle. This location would give them an edge in their next skirmish and he had to remember where it was, even if it took him all night. A few more moments and Loghain broke away from the table to retrieve a pen. He had pinpointed the area. A small valley between the mountain cliffs where they could be protected on both sides. He dipped the quill into an inkpot to saturate it and began to fervently mark the maps.
     In her minds eye, Miera imagined entering that tent in a red robe lined with wolf fur. His eyes broke away from the map upon her entrance and he set down the quill and straightened. “Lady Cousland,” He would say. An invitation. She’d find her way between him and the table and shrug off her robe, revealing herself to him. He’d study her body like one of his maps for a moment, wrap and arm around the small of her back and devour her mouth. “Don’t be so polite,” She’d joke between kisses, and he’d lift her up by the waist onto the table. His hands would stroke her breasts and squeeze her nipples as he lowered his face between her legs…
     Fueled by the memory, Miera was touching herself, imagining the strokes of his tongue tasting her core, burying his face in her with no ounce of shame and listening to the instructions of her body’s twitches and sighs as he led her to orgasm. Her fingers mirrored the way in which she wished for him to please her, the way she’d been doing it to herself for many weeks. She imagined the differences he would bring - the rough stubble in such a sensitive place, the feel of his calloused hands against her breasts and stomach, much different than the long soft noble fingers and hands she possessed.
     Miera began furiously rubbing her clit, removing pressure when she could no longer stand it, and then applying it again. Her back was arched against the bank of the pond and her head drooped back, her hair mixing with the weeds and sand. Her round breasts were displayed out rightly to Loghain, now only partially covered by water and the nipples erect. Miera grunted as she came closer to coming, gritting her teeth and all the while imagining his tongue inside her. At last, when she came, Miera gasped, sighed and relaxed into the water. She opened her eyes to see how her "invisible" audience member had enjoyed the show.
     Loghain slowly rose to his feet with composure. “Thank you, my lady.” He said, “I’ll let you return to your bath.” He exited through the forest back toward the camp, no doubt to his tent to take care of some personal matter that could no longer be denied.
     Miera smiled, located her bottle of wine, and took a gratuitous swig, feeling very smug with herself. Warrior, noblewoman, whore, or a combination of all three, Miera had certainly won this round against Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir. She pushed herself to the side of the pond and removed a bar of soap from her bag, finally able to wash up.
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