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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
- 27
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- 29
Word of caution: This chapter contains graphic, disturbing, very violent images and some mild sex.

The body of Arl Rendon Howe lies at her feet in a pool of blood. At last, the deed is done. He's dead. Elissa, now freed of a blood oath sworn on her parents' still-breathing bodies as she fled her home, stands with her sword lowered and her head held low. It all seemed rather anticlimactic, really. Howe wasn't even a particularly good fighter. He'd had the inflated opinion that he was better than he was, which had given him a boost to his determination and that might have kept him alive for a BIT longer. But in the end, he lay dead at her feet regardless.
With tears in her eyes and remorse for the lives she'd taken, Elissa turns away to find Alistair. Suddenly, something has her by the ankle, preventing her from moving. She looks down and gasps at the bloody hand that holds her firm. She kicks at it and tries to free herself but to no avail. Finally, she sweeps the edge of her sword down, severing the hand at the wrist. She kicks the twitching thing away and tries to keep going when she hears a familiar voice behind her.
Slowly, she turns and gasps as Howe stands unsteadily, his bloody stump dripping blood from where his hand was. His face is pale in contrast to the blood splattered across it and he is sneering at her, his hawk-like features uglier in death than she ever recalled in life. "You-you're dead! Don't make me kill you again!" she says, her sword raised and her heart chilled by the sight of him. The irony of her statement is not lost on her as she stares at him.
His laughter is chilling. It shakes her to her core and forces her to stagger backwards. He reaches out with his good hand and takes her by her wrist. The grip is hard and painful; his flesh cold and lifeless, like his eyes. "You've killed your fair share, haven't you, Elissa Cousland? And you just keep killing!"
She tries to pull away but she is held fast. Her sword is raised and a flash of light flares from its keen edge as she severs the other hand. It maintains its grip, however, refusing to let go. "No! I killed only those who would have taken my life or the lives of others!"
Howe advances on her, his stumps spilling blood as he moves closer. He wraps his arm painfully around her neck, forcing her to look at the disembodied faces of hundreds of young men and women. "Look, Elissa! Do you see those people? Those are the lives you have taken or been responsible for in some way over the years since you became a Grey Warden. There are innocent lives there, too; children are among them! All of the denizens of Lothering and all those who died in the massacre at Redcliffe…they are all there. They are people with families and lives of their own. They had jobs. They had a past, and a present but no future. All thanks to you. Don't you feel proud? What kind of 'hero' kills those she is sworn to prtect?"
She screams and tries to cut away the vision with her sword. Hundreds of decapitated heads tumble down around her and on top of her, their bloody neck-stumps splattering her with blood and gore. "I only killed those who deserved to die…!" she howls, trying in vain to dislodge the handless arm bleeding on her. Like a parasite, the detached hand clings to her, hurting her arm, sharp nails digging through her armor and spilling her blood.
Howe's breath smells of death and rot as he spits his words out at her. "That is a lie and you know it! A good excuse doesn't make it any less an excuse. You are a cold-blooded killer! A murderer! You could have saved so many lives by staying in Lothering and helping the people face their fate but instead, you fled. You fled!"
"We had to move onward. We didn't know that Lothering would be taken by the Darkspawn so soon after we left. We had to pursue the treaties in order to gather the army we needed to defeat the horde. I-I had no choice!" She is weeping bitter tears that mingle with the blood splattered across her face. It runs down her cheeks and stains her skin.
"You should have never left your parents' side. You should have stayed and helped fight off their killers but instead you took the easy way out. You…cheated," Howe presses, as if knowing her deepest, darkest guilt. It echoes the worst of her terrible fears, causing them to solidify and gain strength within her, causing her to doubt her own reasons for leaving. Duncan had been forced to conscript her in those last, terrifying moments but that never erased the doubt from her heart that she should have stayed. Weeping, she whirls and slices Rendon Howe's head clean from his shoulders with one arcing sweep of her sharp sword. His body sags against her and slides into a pool of blood under him as his head rolls a short distance away, rocking on its cheek though the sneer remains and his eyes remain fixed on her. "You killed them, Elissa. You left them to die. Yet you blamed me… What a pity. You never deserved to be Teyrna, anyway. You were too weak! You are…a failure."
She screams and raises the sword high, slamming the sharp edge into his face, hacking at it until no expression remains. Blood sprays her, cold and crisp and when she would have retreated into darkness, a darkness that whispered to her of a pain-free existence, she is pulled into painful, bitter light. She fights it, struggling against feeling and pain; regret and rage. "No! No! I don't want to return. Please! Let me go back to the dark!" She is cold, colder than she can ever remember being and it is a terrifying sensation.
Somewhere in the dark, something shrieks its rage at the loss of such a valuable soul...

"Non, Mon ce'aire. Drink. There…you are safe now," a gentle voice of highly accented Orlesian said to her softly. She felt cold, her body drenched in icy water and her mind bereft of thought. "We tried soaking your face with the water but you started screaming instead of coming out of the nightmare so we were forced to dunk your whole body instead. Ah, lashante!" A blanket enveloped her and hands lifted her into a carriage. There were many people, all gazing at her compassionately and waving as the two men joined her, their bodies forming a barrier of love between her and the bitter cold but the memory of the horrific dream remained. Comforted by their loving embrace and the even motion of the gently rocking carriage, she swiftly faded into the welcome arms of dreamless sleep.
A while later, she awoke to the sensation of a wonderfully naked man holding her gently around her ribs. Startled, she jumped and reached for a pillow to use as a weapon. Ambrose leaned over her and gently took her hand in his. She dropped the pillow as recognition dawned. "Shh, shh. 'Tis only me, Mon ce'aire. 'Tis only me."
Her eyes darted about the room. "Where's Alistair?" she asked in a small voice.
The tall Orlesian held her against him. "He has gone to chat with the Marquis. I was instructed to take care of you as if you were the most important thing in my life. And I do because you are." Elissa sighed and snuggled against him. Then the tears started to come and she held him tightly, clinging against him as if he were a lifeline.
"The-the nightmare! It was Rendon Howe. He-he called me a murderer! There were…horrible images. People dying and blood everywhere. Oh, Ambrose, I have the blood of so many people on my hands…! So many people, so many lives have been lost because of me and now your children are depending on me and if they die too…!" She was sobbing against him, her small fists clenched against him and her face filled with so much anguish that Ambrose felt his own eyes well with her grief. He pulled her against him, his hands gently stroking her back, his voice whispering sweet things in Orlesian to her. He started singing little lullabies to her as he rocked her in his arms.
When her sobs quieted, he pushed her back gently. His fingers curled about her chin as he raised her tear-streaked face so that their eyes met. "This Howe… He is the man who massacred your family, non? And in your nightmare, 'tis he who claims you the killer? That is an evil man whose deeds show him to be the cretin that he is. Nightmare or non, I would not listen to a word that man says. You see, in life, you do what must be done. You slay those unworthy of this gift of life because, for whatever reason, they have earned it. Does it make the deed right? Maybe. Or non. But the fact remains that death, when it comes, comes when it is time. For some of us, it is sooner and others have time yet. You must not blame yourself for every life lost, directly or indirectly to your actions. You would become useless under such weight as that would cause emotionally. Do you understand?"
"But…!" she said, starting to protest. He silenced her the best way he could for that moment: he kissed her deeply. After several moments of gentle passion, he whispered against her skin, "Mon ce'aire… Think of the many millions more lives that you did save by letting just a handful of others perish. To this world, and to me, you are a hero."
As she went to hug him in gratitude, her baby chose that moment to begin kicking violently inside her. It was painful and caused her to shift about, searching for a comfortable way to sit or lay. Ambrose held up his hand and smiled. "I'll handle that. There is a little trick to these things," he said cheerfully. He ran off to collect some items from the dresser and when he returned, he had a towel and a bottle of oil. "Lay back. Yes, I know it hurts but trust me. I'll bet your breasts are sore as well, hm? I can take care of that, too. You are not yet six months along… My wife was not this large and she was not a slender woman. No offense!" he murmured at Elissa's expression.
He poured the oil all over the skin of her breasts and belly. It tickled as it slid across her skin. He instructed her to close her eyes and enjoy and then, slowly, he began to knead. His fingers gently dug into her flesh, feeling the tiny body floating within her. There wasn't much yet to feel but he was concerned. A woman like her should be showing prominently but hers was the belly of a woman well past her sixth month, not some weeks from approaching it. His opinion was that she carried more than one, especially as he kneaded both sides of her belly and felt tiny movements on all sides. His hands then worked her breasts, carefully massaging them and caressing them. A bead of milk trickled down the side of one breast and he sighed. He had loved his wife's pregnancies for that very reason. Mother's milk was sweet and rich with a unique flavor and Elissa was just now starting to produce it.
He leaned over one nipple and tasted the next drop of milk that he managed to release. It was just as he remembered. Unfortunately, spending all this time on her breasts was arousing him. The massage was very close to becoming sexual and he didn't think that would be wise. "No…don't stop…" she moaned.
He laughed and kissed her soundly before carefully drying the oil off her skin. "If you are as aroused as I am, good. If you are up to it, the Marquis is insisting we visit one of his favorite and most expensive adult entertainment venues. It is called, 'Le Capturat Luxúria', The Captured Lust. It is a favorite of mine, actually. All the performers are contortionists who position themselves within small cages for the benefit of those walking around. They are completely naked of course and it is expected for you to take liberties with them. "
Elissa sat up and accepted the robe he offered her. "'Liberties?' You mean touch them?"
He laughed as he helped her from the bed. "In the very least! I will say that the cages are on various levels so that you can do more than, ah, merely touch them. It was inspired by various entertainments in Antiva, interestingly enough. Those… Those make anything we have here seem tame. And it features a fantastic buffet! Ah…! Mon'cir returns!" Ambrose walked up to Alistair and bestowed a passionate kiss upon his lips before dancing off to privy to clean himself up.
Alistair hugged her and kissed her softly. His arms around her, he spoke softly into her red hair, asking her how she was, how she felt, the little things. His questions were comforting to her beleaguered heart and made her think about so much more than the nightmare. "So, the Marquis wants to open a business in Denerim. Something for the, ah, adult entertainment crowd. He thinks there's a market for it, especially with the Pearl being so popular. He knows about the Pearl and he thinks it is rather dull. What do you think?"
She snuggled against the soft fabric covering his broad chest and said, "hmm?"
"The Marquis' business idea. I guess we're going to an example of what he wants tonight. Then…I guess we go to sleep, wake up and…you leave. Then I have my audience with Celene, who has offered to be our host for the remainder of our stay. Elissa… Are you sure you want to follow through with this plan? I think it's crazy. You should wait for me to organize the fighters we need…"
She kissed him softly. "To keep his children safe, we must pretend that there is no change. We must hurry if we are to succeed."
"If something happens to you, I'll break his face…"
"You will do nothing of the sort. You love him."
Alistair sighed and leaned his face against her shoulder. She was right, of course. "That confuses me. For me, I have never desired men. Only women. And I never thought I could love anyone but you. I just think it's strange that touching him is wonderful to me while the thought of touching other men is offensive. Maybe it's you or maybe I'm not as straight as I thought."
Ambrose smiled at the pair enfolded in one another's arms. "Get dressed and let's go play, Mon ce'aires! Have I an experience to show or what?"
After dressing somewhat provocatively, they headed out to the place and found that it was full of cages hung at varying heights, just as Ambrose claimed. They were filled with men and women in a variety of impossible positions, all for the sake of presenting genitals and breasts for observers to fondle or taste or what have you. There were no rules save to exercise gentleness and civility. Each caged contortionist had a handler and that handler assisted them out of their confinement every few minutes for breaks and the chance to mingle with guests. It was as if a twisted art collector had assembled living human and elfin statues for the sake of entertainment and stuck them in cages. They clearly enjoyed what they did as they beckoned to the observers and made suggestions, many of which were bold and quite delicious. Alistair, Ambrose noted, was quite popular with the women. And Elissa had gained the attention of both men and women. She appeared to enjoy the attention and the freedom to touch them at will. The food, of course, was fantastic in its array and creativity.
When they returned to the Marquis' estate following the entertainment of the evening, they fell into the big bed and made love. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There were no rules governing who touched what or how. Hands, lips and cocks intertwined, caressed and dipped into whatever orifice presented its self. It was passion, raw and desperate that drove them to this. It was love and need; lust and the knowledge that something bad could happen, that someone could die if things went badly. They wept as they clung to one another and Ambrose begged them each to forgive him over and over. Elissa didn't understand why but she did her best to reassure him that he had nothing to ask forgiveness for.
They fell into the sweat-soaked sheets with a sigh, Alistair's powerful arms spread wide and his wife on one side, his beloved on the other as they drifted into an exhausted slumber. They awoke to the dawn curled about one another, arms and legs entwined and bodies as close as humanely possible. It was more than dawn to them; it was a harbinger of farewell. Alistair initiated a final, impassioned romp that culminated in a chain with Elissa at its front, Alistair making love to her from behind and Ambrose riding his hips behind. They came as one, both crying and crying out their passion as one and curled their bodies closely together as the waning darkness of night slowly gave way to morning light.
Elissa smiled and traced the curve of her husband's face with her fingers. "I love you," she whispered. Alistair smiled and kissed her deeply. "I wish you didn't have to go…" Alistair replied. Pressed against them, Ambrose murmured, "That makes two of us…"
She brushed away both their tears and kissed each man in turn before rising to get dressed in her armor. The men held one another tightly a short time longer and kissed eachother softly, passionately. It was, in part, a test to see if they needed Elissa between them to seal the bond they shared. It surprised them both to know that though she was the catalyst, once they were sealed together, she wasn't necessary as the glue. "I love you, Mon ce'aire…" Alistair whispered through his tears to Ambrose. The other man kissed the salty fluid that coursed down Alistair's cheeks before kissing his open mouth.
"I love you, too…Mon ce'aire. Stay safe and do not forget me while I am gone. I plan to return to Denerim with you both, after all," came Ambrose's throaty voice, hoarse from crying. He tried to laugh but failed miserably.
They finally rose and dressed in the cloudy gloom of yet another snow-filled morning. Elissa had a bag packed with items given to them by the Marquis for the journey and her weapons strapped to her back. These items had been sent up from the Inn in Lydes as they would not be returning. Additional items such as soup mixes and a sealed package of bread, cheese and snacks had been given to them by the estate chef. "My love? Are you ready?" she asked Ambrose. He was garbed head to foot in thick black leather armor. He looked deadly with his glowing blades and haunted expression. Ambrose quietly took her hand and bestowed a final kiss to Alistair before shoving Elissa into her husband's arms. The pair kissed as Ambrose encircled them both in a massive hug.
They parted with bittersweet tears but no words of farewell or luck. To say anything, it seemed would jeopardize their resolve and make an impossible task even harder or possibly even jinx its success. Ambrose took Elissa's hand and they headed north to the Imperial Highway for a journey that would take some two days or so, no more. The destination was a village that existed only in the minds and hearts of those who had fled but was now occupied by demons, Darkspawn and a small army of Malificar and blood mages.
Somewhere in the distance, the sinister laughter of a powerful Pride Demon could be heard…
To be continued…
This is the last of the so-called fun chapters… Now it gets rough.
- 27
- 28
- 29
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Tainted Dreams