Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

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
- 28
- 29
- 30
Alistair entered the Imperial Palace of Orlais with his eyes wide and his chin held high. Marquis Toulan D'Moronet smiled at Alistair's awe-struck gaze and gripped his arm to steer him through the regal hall. The palace was made of highly polished, very expensive marble with gilt pillars and statues throughout. In spite of the wintry weather, fresh flowers were everywhere, giving the place a freshness and warmth that it would otherwise lack. Carpets lined the gleaming floors and colorful tapestries did their best to hold in the bitter cold emanating from the walls.
They were greeted by a petite, one might say "tiny" woman wearing a long, heavily beaded gown that would have qualified as a ball gown or even a wedding gown in Ferelden. It was peach and white, trimmed in shimmering gold lame with a square bodice and her small breasts perched high atop a narrow, elongated waist. Her long hair was done in a fall of exquisite strawberry blond ringlets that she wore pulled away from her face. A glittering tiara topped her head, making a futile attempt to corral her curls. Her heart-shaped face rested atop a long neck that was encircled by multiple strands of creamy, peach-hued pearls.
She practically bounced up to the Marquis with a little girl's enthusiasm and threw her arms about his neck. She kissed each cheek before turning to Alistair. He was struck by just how different she was from his wife. This frail creature could almost be elfin, she was so delicate. But as he looked more closely, he found in her strength of spirit that would have been Elissa's equal. This was the girl who, at eighteen, deposed a regime and outwitted both the rightful heirs to the throne before claiming it for herself. She took his hands and smiled sweetly.
"I am Celene. Welcome to Val Royeaux and to Orlais. Come, this hall is terribly drafty this time of year. My study is much warmer and has a lovely fireplace. Marquis, will you be staying?" Celene said in heavily accented Orlesian with a smile at him. He blushed, utterly smitten. She had that effect on men and she knew it.
"Non, non. I came merely to escort His Majesty to you. Now that he is safely within your competent hands, I shall take my leave." He smiled and bowed over her hand, his lips brushing her tiny fingers.
"It was a pleasure to see you again, Marquis…" she murmured as he seemed to struggle with something he wanted to do. He looked at Alistair before leaning in and kissing her neck slowly. "The pleasure was mine,Mon Ellei…" the Marquis breathed against her skin as he slowly drew away, a smile on his face. Alistair could feel the sexual tension between them and smiled. So, the Empress got around, did she? Maybe she had more in common with Elissa than he thought!
She led him through the seemingly endless hall and through two more passages before finally coming to a suite of rooms that made the royal apartment in Denerim look like a room at a squalid inn. It had three bedrooms, a sitting area, the office they were now entering and a formal eating area. Her office, thankfully, was not unlike his own office back home and featured a large fireplace that happily crackled away as it gave off its warmth. As he looked around, Alistair was caught by the sight of a grand portrait of King Cailan, his handsome face eternally preserved in grinning repose on canvass. It was quite large and she had surrounded it with wall-hung tapers. They shed light onto his amused expression and made him seem more alive than he ever had in real life.
Celene came to stand by Alistair and she touched his hand as she followed his gaze. "Hm. Yes, it is your brother. It is a fine likeness, don't you think?"
Alistair smiled up at the brother he wished he'd known better than he did. In the portrait, Cailan seemed to be hiding a secret, something he was proud of. The artist captured his blue eyes and charm beautifully. "He sat there, laughing at me the entire time! And, I should add, he was nude. It was my first encounter with him outside of signing treaties and the like. Hm. Such a ruse I used to get him naked and in my rooms…he fell for it without complaint and a great deal of laughter. The painting turned out well, I think. My art teacher said I was a quick study. Do you like it?"
Ferelden's king was startled. "You painted this? That's amazing! Yes, I like it a great deal. There's so much movement, so much emotion there…"
She smiled and leaned against Alistair, her tiny fingers entwining in his. "I loved him very much. This portrait…when it was finished, he rose to dress and before he could so much as don his shirt, I was naked to my waist. It was all the invitation he needed and before we knew, he was kissing me and carrying me to my bed. He was so…starved. He made love to me with the passion of man eating for the first time in months. Ah, it was glorious…"
"Hm, so the rumors of his affair were true then. I'd wondered…" Alistair murmured, fully aware of how close he was to the petite empress. She then reached past his hand and grabbed his cock through his Orlesian finery. He yelped and danced away, laughing and blushing. "My lady! That-that was not my hand."
"Oh? How silly of me. Surely I meant to grab your hand… Shall I try again?" she said with a teasing smile.
He shook his head, the red color of his cheeks now down to his neck. "No, that's good. Just stay there. Ah…"
She came around to his side of the desk and pushed herself up against him. He would have retreated save that the desk was pressed up against the wall on that side and he was boxed in. Her hand moved between them, stirring his desire and making him quiver against his will. "I'm very happily married, Empress… I can't, won't, with you. I love my wife. If she were here…doubtless you would get what you're asking for but I just can't." She was too close, too pretty and he was too attracted. Her hands were skilled, his breathing quickened and he broke out in a sweat.
It was too much. Alistair jumped up onto the desk, scattering papers and ink bottles in his wake. His pants were open, his solid member bouncing out her reach. He quickly stuffed himself back together and pressed his back against the opposite wall. "Empress Celene, this is highly inappropriate. You were my brother's lover and the notion of sleeping with you is just…creepy. No offense but I won't. I can't."
She sighed and as she leaned against the desk, the top of her bodice was allowed to slip ever so slightly. It exposed a swell of creamy-hued breast and the circle of her pale pink nipple. Then, as he noticed it, she pouted at him. He closed his eyes and turned away with a hoarse-sounding, "please…don't."
"Oh, you are no fun! No fun at all. You Fereldens are so pathetically antisocial, it is sad to me. So, work only and no play, yes?" she spat at him in irritation.
Alistair cast her a pained look and nodded. "If my wife was here, it might be different but alone, it just feels too much like…cheating. I am here because I need your help, Empress."
She laughed and sat in her chair. "You refuse me and then have the gall to ask me for aid?" she asked bitterly.
He was growing angry. Bristling, he said, "It wasn't personal, my lady! You're very pretty and yes, I would have, in a heartbeat! But only if Elissa could be here. Now please hear me out."
Celene leaned forward, her narrow chin perched in the cup of her tiny hand. Her glittering violet eyes pierced him as sure as any arrow to the heart. "I will listen but unless it affects Orlais in particular, I will not consider your request."
He moaned and threw himself into the nearest chair. "My lady, it does affect Orlais…it affects us all. In a village not far from here, a demon has taken the body of a mage and…"
"Yes, yes. The village was destroyed, the people either killed or fled but all reports indicate that the incident is isolated and nobody has heard a peep from it in weeks. No doubt the danger has passed. I will not give you aid for a false alarm," she told him, her expression indignant and a cold smile on her lips.
He shot up to his feet, lines creasing between his brows as he stood, furious at her stubbornness. "Is this because I wouldn't bed you? Isn't this a bit extreme for an honest refusal of unwanted sex?" he yelled back at her.
She was on her feet a moment later, her eyes flashing angrily. "Until I have word of something much worse, you will have to seek your aid elsewhere. You will be welcome here as a guest but I will not send aid to an abandoned village based on hearsay."
Alistair started to say something, started to shout at her but instead, he shoved his fist against a marble wall, wincing as his hand smarted with the impact. Celene sighed and, smiling ruefully, she walked around to his side. She took his fist in her small hands and guided him out of the office. "I cannot send troops unless there is something definitive that Orlais is in danger. Please understand my situation."
She guided him to a splendid suite of rooms and smiled sweetly as he sat in a chair within the elegant sitting room. She dropped to his side and kissed his cheek, then his bruised fist. "I will send a scout in the morning. For now, I shall fetch for you a healer. Punching the marble is generally considered a bad idea, even among you big men." She kissed his cheek a final time and left him with her scent and her soft touch in her wake.

Two days later, Elissa sat on a rock just north of Val Royeaux where she and Ambrose had camped for the night. He was bathing in the cold water of a stream and stood in about thigh-deep water. His skin glistened with wetness and his hair shone in the mid-morning light. He was striking to behold, even as thin as he'd become in the weeks following their departure from Ferelden. He was not eating very well and seemed to be constantly stressed over something. She understood. She could feel his agony. At night, when he though she was sleeping, she would hear him weeping.
As she watched him, a smile teasing her lips, he turned his lean back to her, the white scars of his earlier torment raised against his tanned flesh. He must have been quite bloody when they finished whipping him. "Do you ever wonder if what we plan to do is even possible?" she asked him softly.
He peered over his sun-kissed shoulder at her, a thick eyebrow raised. "Hm. You mean the foolish notion that we can actually face our challenges and succeed in one piece?" he replied carefully.
Elissa rolled her eyes and looked away. "That answers that question. You really do think it's hopeless, do you?"
Her tall lover shrugged and splashed his face one final time with both palms before making his way to the water's edge. He carefully climbed the bank, his hands gripping handfuls of grass to aid his ascent. "I am not a betting man," he said with a twisted half-smile as he came to stand in front of her. His long fingers curled underneath her elbows to gently raise her to her feet. He was standing very close, his hair dripping water onto her pale skin. Ambrose leaned in and slowly covered her mouth with his in a long, sensual kiss that sent shivers down her spine. His kisses should have been illegal, so bewitching were they.
He then placed his fingers in the small of her back, near the curve of her round bottom and drew her even closer. Her arms curled around his neck, pulling herself up higher against his body. His other arm embraced her upper body so that his tall, naked and undeniably wet body was pressed against hers, soaking her thin shirt and sleeping pants. He was unmistakably aroused by what he was doing to her as evidenced by the firm length of pressure against her belly. Elissa giggled when his fingers lightly tickled the back of her neck as he moved his hand to cup the back of her head. Ambrose was clearly encouraging her to make love to him and he was winning. She gave in and allowed him to lower her gently to the soft grass near the stream's edge.
Very slowly, he pulled her pants down and set them aside. Her shirt he opened, displaying her full breasts and round belly. Due to the unmistakable winter chill in the air, her nipples were almost painfully hard. Grinning, his eyes locked on hers, he ran his fingers down her body, caressing her lightly, teasingly as they went. "I am in love with you, Elissa…" he said as he smiled down at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges with humor. "Being with you can compare to no other experience in my life and certainly no women can come close. You are the end for me. I am smitten. I am hooked. I am yours…"
She reached up and grabbed his face with her hands, pulling his mouth down onto hers. He laughed and kissed her in return, his arms embracing her as he carefully pulled her into a kneeling position and then into his lap. She straddled his hips as he entered her from the front, their pelvises slowly rolling against one another. There was no space between them, so close their bodies were. If two bodies could truly be described as merged into one, their bodies were. When their lips parted long enough for Elissa to draw a breath, the words, "I love you…" could be heard as she exhaled against his mouth. There were no more words that she could say and nothing else that conveyed as much meaning. They were all that was necessary and it was enough.
Sometime later, the sun higher in the sky and the chill air a bit warmer than it had been in recent weeks, they curled up in the patch of sunny grass and watched the clouds dance across the sky. It was quite chilly but their naked bodies kept each other warm enough. Ambrose, during those moments after coitus, had this delightful habit of absently touching whatever skin was closest to his hand. He was also a kisser. His lips were constantly in contact with her smooth skin as he stroked her breasts and ran his long fingers against the swell of her abdomen. He wasn't exclusive to her either. He did it to Alistair as well and her husband grudgingly admitted he liked Ambrose's love-making techniques and had even picked up a few of them. Between the two, Elissa's nights had been, if briefly, more exciting. But now it was just him and things were different.
One on one, Ambrose was much more sedate, much more sensitive. He held her and stroked her as if he feared losing her, which was utterly ridiculous. He whispered endearments and nuzzled her behind her ears and spoke wondrous things to her in Orlesian. She hadn't a clue what any of it meant but the way he said them made her hungry for more. That was when she realized they had whiled away much of the morning with no end in sight. He appeared to be stalling.
She rose to her feet and slipped out of his reaching arms. "Come on. We have a journey to complete and the longer we mess around, the later it will be when we arrive." Elissa set about donning her complex armor; a collection of plate, chain and scale armors all merged together into something that could expand with her growing belly. The scale-plates were much further apart these days. She stepped outside the tent and watched Ambrose slowly cleaning up the site. He was still naked and still stalling.
"Love, quit stalling. We have to reach the village before nightfall and-"
"No. I'm not going to do this. I cannot do this! Do you hear me, you bitch?" he cried to the sky. "I refuse to do this! We are turning around and I am not putting Elissa into danger, my own family be damned!" He reached for her arm and she dodged him. "Let's get camp broken down and go back to Val Royeaux." he said to her.
"Are you mad?" she snapped at him. "We have a plan and we'll follow it. I won't let your family come to more harm than they may have already endured! "
Ambrose picked up her shirt and pants and angrily threw them into a bag. "I don't care anymore. This can only end badly and Alistair's extra fighters should have been here by now. I will not put your life at risk by letting you anywhere near that village. It's too dangerous! Do you hear me?"
She picked up her sword and shield, hooked them onto her back and stared at him in disbelief. "You are telling me that something is too dangerous for me? Me? Me, the woman who led an army against the Blight and stood up to untold dangers in Amaranthine? Do you not know to whom you speak? Me, the so-called 'Hero of Ferelden!' I didn't earn that title by acting like a shrinking violet every time danger reared its head!" Her voice was growing shrill with anger and her skin burned with mounting rage. How dare he assume that something was too dangerous for her!
Ambrose sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. He was trying to remain calm even in the firestorm of her anger. He knew he was playing with lava by angering this petite young woman but he had made a promise to her husband. "It's not just you anymore, Mon ce'aire. Alistair, he-"
"You and Alistair can just fuck yourselves! I don't need your protection or anyone's protection. I am a strong, brave woman and an unparalleled fighter. The day I can't rescue two people is the day I need to retire! Now, I am leaving, with our without you!" She turned on her heel and struck off in the direction of the village, which lay only a few hours north of where they were. It would not be hard to find but Ambrose didn't want her to get there at all.
"Elissa! Elissa, you maddening woman, come back!" Ambrose shouted at her retreating form.
She stopped and turned to look at him. "Make me…" she growled as she turned away again and set off, unburdened save her personal gear. He was at a distinct disadvantage since she had left the entire camp un-packed and the fire still smoldering. He had yet to dress. Cursing in Orlesian, Ambrose set about dressing and broke down the camp. To add insult to injury, the clouds marching across the sky earlier had soon born with them larger, moisture-filled cousins who were determined to saturate Veranon to his bones.
He did get camp pulled and disseminated the ashes upon the privy-pit before scattering the rest. In a short time, Ambrose had their gear packed up on his back and he was following in the rain-erased footsteps of his lover.
It was, perhaps, two hours after he'd set off that he peered through the rain and spotted a solitary figure dressed in a Templar's kilt and plate armor. Something was pressed up against a tree he was using for shelter. Its bare branches offered poor cover from the cold, driving drops but it was better than nothing. Ambrose assumed it was a pack. The big man marched forward to meet Ambrose part-way.
He walked up the tall, powerfully-built Templar and happily took his hand. "Garrik! You're still here?"
The Templar had a strong, booming voice that reminded Ambrose of every fictitious "hero" he'd ever seen portrayed in stage productions. When one asked, "what does a Fereldan hero talk like?" the answer, in Ambrose's mind, was that he should talk like Garrik Frakes, hero of nothing and rogue Templar whose fate would end in the gallows should he ever be caught. "The bitch lets me run loose, knowing I can't do a damn thing to her. My blade has a date with her neck but she keeps standing me up. More's the pity. So, my friend, I was curious…did you lose something?"
"Did I lose…?" Ambrose started as Garrik stepped aside. Behind him, screaming as loud as the gag would allow, was Elissa. She was seated on the ground at the tree-base with a thick roll of cloth tied tightly around her head and wedged inside her mouth. Her hands were tied behind her back. Eyes flashing and her red mane, wet and flailing wildly, she shrieked muffled obscenities. "Ah. Well, you want to untie her?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and making no movement in her direction.
Garrik laughed in his booming baritone. "Not on your life! She bites, you know."
To be continued!
- 28
- 29
- 30
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Tainted Dreams