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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
- 20
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- 22
The three Grey Wardens arrived in the city of Lydes at dusk. Hungry, tired and weary from the journey, they were eager to get settled in for a night and some decent food. Elissa's first impression was shock and amazement. This cosmopolitan city was described by Ambrose as being little more than "an impressive township that could be a city with a little effort." To her, it made their beloved Denerim look like little more than a well-equipped trading post. A dirty one at that. Denerim was home to all kinds of unusual smells, most of them foul, while Lydes smelled… She couldn't describe it. In the air were scents that flirted with her senses and teased her with their complexity. Many scents had accompanying flavors from the many taverns and eateries that lined its lovely stone-lined streets, now wearing a blanket of new snow. Wheel tracks weaved amid the prints of people. And the buildings were huge. They towered, in some cases, more than three or four stories above them.
Then there were the people. Noblemen and women laughed arm in arm in elegant clothing and flirted in low-cut gowns and summery perfumes. The poor and merchant classes were much different, however. As grey and dull as the people of Ferelden, they almost seemed to disappear amidst the splendor of the buildings and the impressive architecture that lined the elegantly designed roads. Ambrose seemed proud and ashamed at the same time as he pointed out the differences in the classes. The poor were very poor and the rich were very rich with only the merchant class enjoying anything that could be described as being "in between". They hawked their wares in the fading light and invited the visitors into buildings where they could peruse a multitude of items from clothing to furniture; perfumes to hats; flowers to books. Many even had glass windows with expensive items lavishly displayed.
Elissa was giddy with delight as she spotted one such window, exclaiming, "Look at that dress! Those shoes! Maker! The cut of the bodice is practically scandalous!" That made Ambrose laugh and explain that the current fashion, modeled after Empress Celene's present style of choice. The idea was to visually tease with as much bare breast as possible, even showing the nipples either above or through sheer lace or silk on breasts lifted high above the waist with a corset. The restraining garment itself looked terribly uncomfortable but the effect was mesmerizing on the mannequin. She wondered how it would look on her.
Alistair rolled his eyes and sighed, "Maker's breath! I married a girl!"
The look on Ambrose's face was amusingly quizzical as he rolled his eyes in Alistair's direction and said, "Von, Mon Ve'erte. Were she, in fact, a man, it would be very awkward to explain to your 'Landsmeet'."
Alistair snorted as he watched Elissa all but merge herself into the glass of one dress merchant's display window. "So you do have a sense of humor. And here I was thinking you were dull. What a surprise that a human being really does lurk somewhere inside of you! I simply meant that she saves that kind of excitement for armor and swords. Not… Dresses."
"Perhaps your Ferelden dresses are nothing to become excited about?" Ambrose shrugged and walked over to Elissa, smiling. "Do you like it, Mon Ce'aire?"
"It's… beguiling. My friend, Leliana, told me about this kind of stuff but never, in my wildest dreams, had I imagined she wasn't exaggerating. And you call this city a township?" she murmured as hugged the glass and ogled the glittering layers of silk, brocade and the scattering of beaded lace. The dress was colorful as well, a tasteful teal and blue waterfall of fabric that sparkled with crystals and beads. "Where would a lady wear such a gown?" she asked, almost to herself.
Ambrose leaned in close to her, inhaling the scent of her skin and pleasuring his senses on her nearness. Her hair had the most appealing fragrance that was uniquely her. "Mmm. You would wear this gown anywhere you wanted. It's not a common gown for certain, but a noblewoman would wear it to go to dinner, meet with friends or perhaps to be wooed. The bodice suggests flirtation and sexual appeal. You would look like a man's fantasy come to life in such a dress. Or any dress for that matter…" He came very close to kissing her then. It was hard not to.
She blushed and ducked away from him, pretending to spot something new across the street. Alistair strolled up to Ambrose, arms tucked behind his back and a blond eyebrow lifted in warning. "You'd best watch yourself, my friend. The time for revenge is done. You can stop teasing… or flirting with her now."
The innocent look on Ambrose's face did not fool Alistair. "Who says I am doing either?" he asked.
"I do. And I don't like it. Obviously, neither does she. Watch what you do with her, Ambrose. Don't do anything… foolish. Got it?"
"Obviously, you are jealous. Are you afraid that she will, shall I say, acquiesce should I offer her a space in my bed?"
Alistair looked worried as he watched after her. "I may be jealous… but… No, I am not afraid of that happening. I am certain of it."
Ambrose nodded sagely and looked at Alistair with concern reflected in his clear, blue eyes. "So. I am not the only one who has this impression. For a moment, I feared it was only my ego. What would happen if, say, she should make that decision?"
It was an impossible question, one that left Alistair filled with worry. What if she did decide want Ambrose in the same way she had wanted the elfin prostitute? He didn't have an answer and said so with a slow shake of his head. "Frankly, it's not my decision to make for her and it isn't yours either so don't you go making suggestions!"
A reply that Alistair was not expecting at all erupted from Ambrose's chest like a rumble of cheerful thunder. Brows drawn close in a deep scowl, Alistair grabbed Ambrose by his cloak with both hands, bringing the chuckling Orlesian's face very close to his. "This isn't funny!"
"Relax! Mon ve'erte, relax. I find it merely amusing that you are so concerned about a simple act of physical pleasure. Your wife loves you in the way that flowers love their soil. Without soil, the flower cannot grow and become the beautiful thing it is. But, in lesser amounts, it also needs rain and sun. Without those, it becomes a sad thing. You are soil and other men, other experiences are simply the rain and the sun. They are Important but not as important as you. Do you sincerely believe that Elissa would abandon you for my side? I already have a wife, Mon ve'erte. I most certainly do not need another wife, especially not one belonging to a man I consider my friend. However, if she should ask for it, and were I to accept, would I, ah, be permitted to remain intact?"
Alistair glared up at the taller man, his eyes narrowed suspiciously."Maybe. It depends on the circumstances. I might geld you out of spite if I see fit. Just don't go making it easy for her."
"And why do you think she would be attracted to one such as me? I'm no prize, if you're judging by appearance. I'm half-again her age… I'm not as physically built as most. And I'm a bit rude at times," Ambrose said softly. He was really very flattered that Alistair thought Elissa would have him if he desired her. But he wondered why. It didn't make sense, not even to him. Quiet, sad, introverted, scarred and on the brink of doing something he already regretted, Ambrose saw nothing to be appreciated about himself. But she was a ray of light and a stunning beauty that made him believe in love again. She made him believe in himself again. There were so many reasons to adore the feisty Templar-gifted Warden Queen.
The younger Grey Warden shook his head though he suggested that the "rudeness" might be a symptom of Ambrose just being Orlesian. "You'd have to ask her," he replied softly. Ambrose nodded thoughtfully as he watched Elissa hand something to a child and begin making her way back through the snow-covered lane.
Soon, Elissa rejoined the men as excited as ever and eager to go shopping but the shops and stalls were closing as a snowy darkness replaced the bright cheer of dusk. Foot traffic had dropped off considerably as well. Ambrose showed Alistair the expensive inn he'd mentioned and Ferelden's King nodded. "I'll get two rooms. You can pay me back."
"Non," Ambrose replied with a shake of his head. "I prefer less ostentatious lodging. I will seek it near the housing area just outside the merchant's quarter. There is a quaint place there where the people know me and always have room."
The look Alistair and his wife shared was one of astonishment. "Ambrose, you're a Grey Warden. You have the right to enjoy a little ostentation once in a while. I lived in a barn for most of my childhood but you don't see me shying away from what my sovereigns can afford me."
"As it is your choice but it is not my own. I prefer to live beneath my means."
"Suit yourself!" Alistair said with a grin. "I will return soon. My love, are you coming?"
Elissa shook her head and kissed his lips softly. "I need to chat with 'Ser Stick in the Mud'. Meet us in that eatery over there by the fountain. I'm famished!" Alistair kissed her again and then grabbed both their packs and weapons and headed up to the large, elegant Inn. Once alone with Ambrose, Elissa touched his hand and gestured to "The Flightless Sparrow". Ambrose had suggested the place for dinner soon upon arrival to the city and they headed there quickly. The chill had increased as the snowfall decreased and Elissa yearned for a table by the fireplace she saw rising above the small place, exhaling out smoke from its chimney.
Once inside, seated at the (second) warmest table in the house (a large, grey-haired dwarf was passed out and his massive body sprawled across two chairs by the fireplace itself), they ordered hot mulled wine and a plate of fried sweet potatoes. "Now that we are alone, I have a question."
"Go on."
"What was that kiss about?" she asked. Ambrose resorted to blinking his eyes innocently in a way that must have gotten him far before he knew Ferelden. "Don't even try that innocent game with me," she muttered into her mug, her eyes up on his face.
He shrugged, a gesture he used often instead of words. "It was vengeance, nothing more. Tat for tit, if you will. I was trying to give back some of the discomfort you offered me."
That got her attention. "I made you uncomfortable? How did I do that?"
"You know exactly how you did that! You are a lovely woman with an amazing body. You are physically… breathtaking. Especially your breasts. You showed them to me and would not cover up. That made me uncomfortable."
"Aww. You poor baby! Did I shred your pathetic male sensibilities?" she said in a mocking tone of voice similar to how one would speak to a baby.
Ambrose frowned irritably. He really hated being mocked. "Non! It was not my, 'pathetic male sensibilities' you made uncomfortable."
She leaned forward, her chin on her palm and her teal eyes alight with mischief. "Oh? And what then did I make uncomfortable?"
"My… breeches."
It came out, "mah… britches" in his thick accent. Elissa giggled. "Are you implying that you are so well-endowed that your breeches became too tight?" she laughed, raising her mug for more mulled wine. It was quickly refilled and just as quickly consumed. She rather liked the idea behind her accusation.
He shook his head. "Non. Endowed or otherwise, I am a man and when men are given the gift of a woman's amazing physique to gaze upon in the flesh, it causes certain reactions. Thus, my breeches became uncomfortable."
Elissa leaned forward, her teal eyes glittering dangerously in the golden firelight behind Ambrose's chair. "So… Are you?"
Ambrose leaned back in his chair, a thick eyebrow raised and his fingers curled around the stem of a wine goblet. He sipped from it carefully before asking, "Am I what?"
"That well endowed?" she asked in a voice that was almost a purr. The older Grey Warden struggled to stay cool. He knew that the question was born not of Elissa's curiosity but of the mulled wine. He knew it was made with Brandy.
"Before I answer that, there is something you should know. First, the mulled wine is spiked with brandy so you may not be thinking clearly. In fact, I believe you are getting drunk. And number two, I told your husband earlier that the next time you flirt with me like you did last night, I will take you." The words "take you" were spoken in a low, sexy voice that emphasized the intent behind them. Combined with his exotic accent, it had a frightening effect on her that she found utterly thrilling.
"Take… me?" she asked in a small voice. She found herself getting a thrill from it.
"Take you," he confirmed.
"And what if I don't wish to be… taken?"
He shrugged and sipped from his glass. "Depends on how you resist me. You see, I know the difference between 'non!' and 'non-non-non'," he explained in a matter of fact tone.
Elissa leaned back, her teal eyes narrow slits as she considered what he said. "What is the difference?" she asked.
Ambrose swirled the wine around in his cup and smiled slyly. "Non! is very firm, very direct aversion to my advances. It's usually accompanied by hitting, kicking and the occasional slap. I can be injured. So, I respect 'Non!', as I do have a very strong sense of self-preservation. 'Non-non-non' is more coy. The voice says no, the body says yes. The woman yields to my touch even though she says she doesn't want it. If she yields, Itake her. It's very simple."
The smirk on Elissa's blushed face was coy as she appraised him with a raised eyebrow. "You sound like you have a lot of experience in this."
He sipped his wine and shrugged as he smiled handsomely at her from the lip of his goblet. Though far from "pretty", as Elissa tended to think of Alistair, Ambrose could soften his harsh appearance by changing his expression and his personality. Indeed, the man gazing warmly over the lip of his cup with bright, blue eyes as he rocked in his chair was a far cry from the ugly, pompous Orlesian who had shouted at her upon their first meeting. He was very charming when he wanted to be and there was a palpable sensuality to him that spoke volumes. She was inexplicably drawn to him and knew that if he ever gave her the opportunity, she would let him "take" her. "I like women," he said simply. "Sometimes, they do not like me. I have learned how to discern the two."
"So then…do you like me?" she asked. Was she flirting with him? Unbelievable!
His answer was pure honey to her ears as he breathed, "more than you know and more than I should, Mon Ce'aire." She blushed deeply.
"And…are you?"
"Ahh. Back to the question of my endowment, are we? Very well. I suppose I can answer without disrobing and showing more than is appropriate considering the circumstances. You see that?" he said, gesturing with his middle finger lifted from the cup in his hand to the wooden salt shaker on the table. As he gestured, the barmaid came around and filled his cup with wine and took Elissa's drained mug.
Elissa looked at it. Maybe five or six inches tall and roughly one and a half to two inches around, it was a basic polished wood salt shaker commonly seen in moderately-priced restaurants and taverns. She looked at him, unimpressed that he was referencing salt shakers. "Yes? It's a salt shaker."
"Pick it up, hold it in your hand and wrap your fingers around it. And squeeze. Now, add about three inches and make the bulbous top a more appropriate conical shape. That is roughly me. I might be exaggerating a bit but that's about as close to it without pulling out the real thing." Ambrose had no problems showing it to her but Alistair would be returning soon and he really didn't want to lose any teeth tonight.
Her eyes widened as she wrapped her hand around the shaker, her fingers tightly embracing the wooden cylinder, imagining it was made of flesh but almost as hard as wood. Her mouth watered and she found herself growing warm. Her body was reacting as well and she realized that, because of him, she would never again be able to look at salt-shakers the same way again. A look at Ambrose revealed a man greatly impressed with himself as he gazed smugly across the table at her. His smile was a mere lift of the right side of his lips but it said much and improved his looks further. His gleaming topaz eyes seemed to be laughing at her. "I…have to go outside…and cool off. Bastard." Ambrose laughed at her as he watched her retreat.
A moment later, Alistair arrived. He spotted the table almost immediately and made his way there. He had stripped out of his heavy armor and was now wearing a simple set of leather armor designed more for protection from the cold than blows. "Ambrose, is this Elissa's seat? Where is she?"
As Ambrose was poised to answer, Elissa walked in, the hair around her red cheeks wet. There was snow on the front of her furred coat. She shot daggers at Ambrose as she came around to kiss Alistair on the mouth. She marveled at how easy it was for her to playfully tease one man and then adoringly recline in the lap of the man she considered her soul mate. Whether that was good or bad, she didn't know but the desire to taste flesh belonging to another was strong in her. "Did you get us a room?"
Alistair nodded. "We have plenty of funds on hand thanks to your trip to Amaranthine and those jobs you did afterward without dipping into the treasury. I got us a fine room at what I consider a reasonable rate. And I have a surprise for you."
She looped her arms around his neck and waited eagerly. "Well?"
"We're attending a Masquerade! It's supposed to be the annual winter bash. I thought it would be fun for us. I have the tickets here."
Ambrose stared, snapping his blue eyes from king to queen and back. "When? Tonight?"
Alistair's own eyes hardened and he clenched his fist. "Tomorrow night. We are paid up for three days."
"NO! You fool! We have a deadline and we must adhere…" the Orlesian began.
"Fine! You go, if you're so worried. We are staying. Elissa and the baby need a break, Ambrose. I'm sorry. It's final." There was no arguing with Alistair when he was like this. Evidently, he'd thought a great deal on it and made up his mind easily. Elissa hugged him, grateful for the respite. Ahh. This was why married him.
Ambrose was furious but he kept an unusual grip on his emotions until they had run their course. Eventually, he bowed his head in defeat and looked away. If they had been wolves, Alistair would have won the dominance challenge. He almost felt shamed but kept the thought to himself.
The young king reached across the table and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Hey. I was wondering if you could help us with what we should wear to this thing tomorrow. And meet us there?"
Ambrose leaned back. "You want me to assist you with dressing? What is the theme?"
"Theme? Uh…"
"Ticket. Hand me a ticket. There should be information about what the theme is on the ticket. Rarely do the more expensive Orlesian masquerades not have a theme. Hm… Oh my! Did the person selling you the ticket not explain anything to you?"
Alistair blinked across the table at him. "Not much. Just stated the price, asked me how many and told us to show up separately. And reminded me to 'dress appropriately'. Is there a problem?" He was worried because Ambrose was still laughing at him.
Still chuckling, the Orlesian shrugged as he usually did when asked questions. "Well, the intent of this masquerade is specifically 'clandestine encounters' between men and women. Or same-sex if that is your preference. The rules state that masks stay in place until half-way through the dance and men should be clean-shaven to avoid early detection of current friends, partners and lovers etcetera. It is supposed to be rather, ah, adult. They're not for children anyway but this one could rather…liberating for you both! I would be happy to help you find something suitable though I won't stick around to see what you have chosen. Should I wish to make an appearance, it would be unfair of me to know what you arrive in if you do not know what I am dressed as."
The blood drained from Alistair's cheeks as he considered Ambrose's words.
"Crap…"
The lightness continues in "Orlesian Masquerade"
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Tainted Dreams