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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Tainted Dreams
Chapter 3
Breakfast Bargaining
Author's note: The role of Ambrose will be played by a tall, angry Frenchman with a thick accent and who never smiles. If he did, it is certain his face will break.
Elissa nodded and started down the hall to meet this Gray Warden, her husband close behind. "Have Mattea get him a room and something to eat!" he shouted back to the guard, closing the gap between them. The pair entered the reception hall looking like a pair of disheveled young commoners rather than the two highest-ranking people in all of Ferelden. The Orlesian was a Gray Warden. Both of them knew that instantly. He was tall and thin, reminding Elissa greatly of Riordin, a man she had come to respect in the days leading up to his death. The man had a short beard that thinned along his jaw and thick waves of black hair. The hairline was thin and had a prominent widow's peak. His intense blue eyes were worried and thin lines formed a network of roads across his sun-darkened skin. He stared at the couple hard. "What is this?" he shouted at them in richly accented Ferelden. He was, without a doubt, Orlesian. "I have been waiting here for no less than an hour! How dare the commander make me wait?"
Alistair did not like the man's attitude. "Ser, if you would please come with me, I will lead you to a far better place to have a conversation with the Commander. It's my… office." Alistair had set up a small office that was far less opulent than what Cailan had used during his reign. With only a desk and its chair, a pair of side-tables bearing lamps, a scroll-shelf, numerous bookshelves and two more chairs for guests, it was an echo of Alistair's personality. The current king preferred simplicity and efficiency to what his brother had enjoyed. Along the walls were shelves of books interspersed with the various idols and statues Alistair had collected over the years. Maps clung to the walls, many riddled with pins signifying locations and treaties. Several books lay open throughout the small space, including the desk. His one vanity was a richly painted portrait of him and his bride from their wedding day, framed in gold. The painter had captured the joy of that day in his subject's faces and it stood directly behind his chair.
If one looked at the desk at the room's center, they would first notice the beauty of fine, elfin craftsmanship but then they would notice a worn spot on the corner closest the door. Alistair moved to perch his bottom on that corner and crossed his arms. "Very well. Now what? Where is the Commander? I demand to see her!" the Orlesian continued to shout imperiously at them. Alistair frowned, a furrow forming between his honey-blond brows. His gold-brown eyes gleamed in the lamp-light.
"You don't see her?" he muttered darkly.
"Of course not! I see a waif in a man's shirt and you, whatever you are supposed to be. Where is the Commander?"
Alistair clenched his fists. He really hated this man and that was saying a lot. "You're looking right at her…" he growled.
"The painting? Nonsense! I want the actual…"
Elissa walked over to where Alistair perched in his worn space on the desk and leaned against him, her own arms crossed. He carelessly encircled her shoulders with his arm. "The actual Gray Warden Commander is here, Ser Warden. Or can you not tell what we are?" she said, darkly.
The man blinked at her and her husband as if seeing them for the first time. Then his eyes drifted up, over their shoulders and to the wall where the painting was proudly displayed. The pair before him was expertly, if casually mimicking the couple framed upon the wall. The expressions were completely different, however. "I… Oh no, forgive me, Commander! I was mistaken. If you are the Commander then he… he must be…" The man fell to his knees and took Alistair's hand. "Forgive me, Your Majesty."
Alistair shared a look with his wife and sighed. "I should have said something sooner but I wanted you to learn from the assumption. You see, we're a bit underdressed because we are playing hooky today. You need to see my wife. Is this a private meeting or should I stay?"
"Apologies, Your Majesty, but I was hoping to talk to your wife in private. It is Gray Warden business, you see. I know that you are one yourself, from what I have been told, but it is only the commander I may talk to." The Orlesian Gray Warden rose to his feet and bowed deeply as Alistair rose from his seat.
"I'm being evicted. I'll be close if you need me, my dear." He walked out and closed the door behind him to wait.
Elissa claimed her husband's informal place on the desk and waited patiently to hear what the Orlesian wanted from her. She was still angry. The other warden smiled weakly. "I hope my rudeness does not leave a lasting impression, my lady. I had expected something else, you must understand. I heard you were six feet tall, flames spitting from your eyes and that you slept in heavy plate. That you are a small woman with bright eyes and a fondness for your husband's shirts is refreshing. Ahem. Well, My name is Ambrose Fazsile. Our Warden Commander has been asked by our Empress, Celene, to engage in a dialogue with you and, ah, hopefully bring you to Orlais. I-we need your help, Commander." His voice was nervous and Elissa got the impression he may have been lying.
Elissa felt the blood drain from her face and she felt suddenly nauseous. Alistair was not going to like this. Not one bit. "Go… to Orlais? With you? I… can't. I am sorry."
"You can't? But you must! You have to! I have been ordered to bring you back! I beg of you, please reconsider." He was begging and she felt horrible as she leaned heavily against the desk. It was her duty. It was her job as Warden Commander to help anyone who needed her aid and here she was, forced to being selfish because she was carrying Ferelden's heir. It went against everything she knew about being a Gray Warden and she hated it.
"I'm sorry; I must be coming off rather rude. What was your name again?"
He blinked at her in surprise. "I… My name is Ambrose Faszile."
She took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut before slowly, coolly explaining why she could not go. It was, of course, no more than the fact that Alistair would have kittens before he allowed her to go anywhere outside Ferelden with a stranger, even another Gray Warden, but if the man was as duty-bound as other Wardens she'd met, he would need the long explanation. "Ambrose… You must understand that I am not saying 'no' for just any reason. The fact is I have a great deal to consider in this decision. It is more than my duties here, you see. I have many duties. I am Warden Commander of Ferelden, I watch over the Arling of Amaranthine, I am Princess Consort, queen and advisor to the court and, soon, to be 'mother' on top of it all. I am carrying the prince or princess of Ferelden and because a pregnancy between two Gray Wardens is so impossibly rare, I have a duty to protect myself and my child at all costs. Then too, there are my nightmares, which I have a difficult time of escaping without my husband's help. I… could be a liability. Add to that the fact that Darkspawn are drawn to a Warden's Taint, the doubling of that taint in my womb could be a problem. Do you understand now?"
He was more thoughtful but his eyes held an edge, his face a mask of steely determination. "I know. Nevertheless, your presence has been requested by our-our commander and our Empress and I have been sent forth to bring you to Orlais. I can NOT return without you. You see, my-eh-our situation is dire, my la- Commander. What we face we have never faced before."
She relaxed on the corner of the desk and leaned forward, leaning one arm on her thigh in a mindless imitation of one of her husband's "listening" positions. Who taught who was questionable but they both had worn the corner of the desk from sitting on it constantly and often in the same poses. Observers had been known to comment that the pair were like two halves of a whole, the way they worked together and completed one another's sentences. She wished her other half was here now, to show his support. "What do you mean?"
"I was told not to say too much. And much I do not know but I will tell you this; Orlais faces what could be a possible blight if the situation is allowed to continue." He turned away from her, his black armor glinting in the lamp-light from the two tables and the desk. Torches burned on either side of the door. "This 'Blight' is like no other because it is not led by an Archdemon, per se. It is led by a rogue Templar and a woman who calls demons. But we understand that one of her demons has escaped and now the Darkspawn follow the demon. She controls also the Templar and the mage and uses them to build her own army. She will crush us if you do not help. Now…" He turned back around, very slowly. "…do you understand?"
Elissa leaned back and had to grip the corner of the desk with both hands to steady herself. "Dear Andraste…! This is serious! But what can I do? I have no army of Gray Wardens, Ambrose! We are still only just beginning to rebuild our numbers. Why cannot the Orlesian Grey Wardens handle this? They outnumber our own a hundred to one!"
"I… Cannot explain in terms you would accept. I ask only that you trust me. I need your help, Commander. I must have your help," his voice was a whisper, his need palpable and her heart went out to him.
"I will not usurp the position of your own commander." She frowned and rose from the desk, her hands shaking and her head lightly spinning. She felt suddenly weak and gripped the desk for support.
Ambrose reached out to her as her face blanched but she waved him off. After a moment, he said "Are you alright?" She looked unsteady but she nodded weakly. Slowly, carefully, Elissa walked to the door and opened it.
"Go, Ambrose. I have to speak with my husband. I can make you no promises unless I discuss it with him first. I doubt he will like what you are asking but… He's Gray Warden enough to appreciate what your people are dealing with. We will see." In a quivering voice, she called for a nearby guard to show their guest around the palace and to his rooms. Then she spotted Alistair leaning against a wall close by. She beckoned to him to enter the office.
He looked at her face, hard. He was worried. She was pale and shaking slightly. "Elissa? You look ill. Do you need a trash-pail?"
She nodded several times. Alistair had it on the desk in an instant and held her shoulders as she eliminated her breakfast in the worst possible way. It was painful and bitter, she wept softly as she heaved. Her husband held her through it all and his gentle understanding was more than she could have ever wished. She was so proud to be his wife and grateful for the wonderful man he was, even when she was at her worst. It made what she had to say even more painful. When she was done, he brought water to her lips and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. She was shivering. Quietly, he took the pail and set it outside the office door. Sooner or later, someone would dispose of it. For now, it was at least out of sight. "My love?"
"Lock the door and…"
"If you tell me to sit down, I'm going to be even more worried than I already am," he muttered as he turned the lock.
"…sit down. I have something to tell you that you won't like."
He frowned as he took up his customary perch. "I already don't like it. If Morrigan is involved, the answer is 'NO'."
She ignored his attempt at levity and faced away from him, holding her arms tightly against her body as if trying to ward off a chill. "Do you remember that conversation we had about a month before the Landsmeet when I asked you where you thought we were going to take our relationship? I wasn't sure what I wanted then but I knew I loved you more than I'd thought possible. But you were wiser than I was. You reminded me that duty and honor come first and that what we want must always come second or we lose sight of why we are what we are. I was stung by that and it was our first disagreement as your lover. But I never forgot the lesson." She paced the room, looking very uncomfortable as she searched for the words she needed to make her case.
She looked at him, pierced him through the heart with her blue-green eyes as bright as the clearest deep water. He flinched. "I have to go to Orlais. They need my knowledge, my skills. I know the timing on this is bad but…"
Alistair was on his feet a second later, standing before her and seething. "The answer is 'NO'. You can NOT go to Orlais. It pains me to order you not to do your duties and had it been a month ago, even a week ago or, Maker forgive me, a DAY ago, I'd have been more relenting but knowing what I know I… I… just can't let you. I'm sorry. I must forbid this. Did you not tell him that you would not be able to go? Or did you consider it from the start?"
Elissa's cheeks flushed with anger as she stood before him. "I tried to explain it to him but then he told me why he needs me! And he was right! I am the best person for the job. They cannot do this alone and I, for one, will not allow them to suffer after all the aid they have given us over the years."
Elissa carefully explained to Alistair everything that Ambrose had told her. Her husband shook her head defiantly. "My answer stands. I will not allow you to endanger my kingdom's heir by letting you run into a nest of darkspawn. Besides, what if you have one of those awful nightmares? Will HE hold you and stroke your hair while you slam your fists into his chest, screaming? No! I won't let him! And I won't let our child be born outside of Ferelden either. Have you any idea how far away Val Royeaux is? It would take us about a month to six weeks or longer, one way. My answer is final. I am finished with this."
She gasped as if struck by a physical blow, so close to her nightmare were those final words. The tone of his voice, his stance, the way his eyes blazed hotly, they only enhanced the resemblance to her dream. It was all she could do to keep her head level. He didn't notice the pain he'd caused as he turned away from her in his fury. "Alistair… Please, don't…" she whispered through her tears.
He stalked angrily toward the door and unlocked it, angry with himself for being angry and furious with her for even considering this madness. He hated himself for hurting her. Then she said the fatal words; "Wait! There's an alternative to this so that you won't be leaving this room angry."
He turned, brows drawn darkly. "An alternative to leaving is staying so unless that's your alternative, I'm going!"
"Alistair, sit down at your desk. Not on it. Sit in the chair." She breathed shakily. It was all she could do not to sob. Maintaining control was paramount at this point. He growled something obscene but did as she asked out of sheer curiosity. He still had his foot down but if she was wise, she might help them heal from this fight. He watched as she reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of bound parchment. "Is this your correspondence with Orlais?"
He nodded and took the stack from her, his thumbs brushing the letters. "Messages sent between couriers. Why do you ask?"
"But you have never met Celene, yes?"
He shook his head thoughtfully, his anger fading with each passing moment. "We can never match schedules. We've been trying for three years but…"
Elissa fell to her knees, her elbows on his thighs and her hands, shaking, clung tightly to his. She no longer thought she could stand. Tears oozed their way down her cheeks and her teal eyes were brightly swimming. "Do it now, then. Come with me to Orlais and be my guardian. Be my knight. Be my king. Hold me at night, love me at dawn and hold my hands when I'm sick and hold on to my body when my nightmares get the better of me. Well?"
He was stunned as he looked down at her. Her expression was so sincere that he almost choked with emotion. "Elissa, I… I can't leave Ferelden. Who will watch over her while we're gone? The Bannorn will want me hung if I leave. Half still think the Orlesians are evil anyway."
"There's Fergus… He's already on his way here with his family. As the Teyrn of Highever, he is the most powerful man in the land besides yourself. The Bannorn respect him and they listen when he speaks. He is very much like my father, you know."
Alistair tilted his head back and he stared up at the ceiling with a groan. "My love… He's coming for a vacation, not official business. It's a social call to see family!"
"But he's just a few days out. The alternative is Arl Eamon and his health is not so great these days. Or Bann Teagan but Teagan has been helping Eamon more and more lately. So… Fergus would be your best choice. Maybe your only choice."
'Damn. She's making sense, which means she's winning.' He'd run out of arguments and any others he posed would look fake if he tried them. He finally reached down, helped his queen into his lap and pulled her legs across the arm of the chair. He sat there, stroking her face, her hair and her lips with his finger tips. He then gazed deeply into the bottomless depths of her eyes and sighed. He could never stay angry at her for long. "I guess you have no choice, then. Either I go with you or you don't go at all. It's not much of a choice, my love, but I'm not completely against a visit to Orlais. And it sure beats being mad at you. I really hate being mad. Will you forgive that ridiculous outburst?"
She took his hand and laid it upon her belly, which her raised shirt framed nicely. She smiled lovingly into his eyes. "You have a lot to protect, Dear husband. I understand completely. Believe me, I do not wish to go at all but… Damn my sense of duty. I can thank you for that!"
His hand slowly drifted up her shirt to fondle a plump breast. He smiled as he gazed into her eyes. His other hand caressed her face. "You are perfect for me, my love. Your sense of duty, your sense of self, your wisdom… These are all great things that make you who you are and who I need in my life. If I could do it again, the only thing I would have changed was deciding against seeking you out when I was a boy. But then again… Maybe meeting you later like I did was best. We had the freedom to choose one another, you know? Still, I'd marry you all over again."
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Then, she raised her legs and straddled his groin, their noses touching and a smile on her lips. She pulled her blue shirt up over her head and whipped it somewhere. She didn't see where it landed, only that her husband had taken notice of its disappearance. He lifted her from his lap and sat her upon the desk. Slowly, he pulled her pants down until all she wore were her shoes, which she playfully kicked off. Elissa arched her back as she leaned back on her hands and smiled. He had his pants down his narrow hips in moments and his shirt flung in another direction. They heard a thud as something was knocked over and together, they laughed.
Giggling, Alistair slowly, seductively pressed his hard phallus deep inside her. She arched her throat, closed her eyes and gasped. "In four years of marriage, why have we never made love on your desk…?" He drove deep inside her, pulling her tightly against him, her knees locked around his hips. She moaned and teased herself as he worked. They knocked over a metal statue and several stacked books scattered when they hit the floor. They climaxed quickly, coming as one as they often did and Elissa raised herself up, her arms around Alistair's sweat-drenched neck and her lips tasting the salt-sweet of his skin. He was quivering from the intensity of the orgasm but was still inside her and he was still hard. "Again," he panted. "I want you again…" She pulled him down on top of her, shoving ink vials and pens to join the books on the floor and happily obliging his desire.
When they finished the second time, they curled up together in his chair, kissing and touching one another lightly. "Mmm. We should argue more often. That was… Incredible! I'm still aroused but alas, I think I may need some of Zevran's roots if I were to attempt it again," he chuckled, his fingers tracing her face, the curve of her neck and her firm breasts.
She laughed and stretched her body out across him dramatically. "Oh, damn your beautiful body, which the torchlight spins into golden armor as fine as anything any king has ever worn. I am a moth to your beautiful flame."
"Kiss-ass," he chided playfully. He took that opportunity to tickle her and admitted that for once, it was he who had continued the playful escapade on the desk. "Okay, up, Woman! We have to find our clothes. I think I unlocked the door earlier and if your 'friend' returns prematurely, we'll have some explaining to do. I doubt, 'We were fighting and the argument grew so heated we stripped off all our clothes' will be an acceptable excuse. Hmm… How did your shirt get up there? I can't reach that… Not even with the ladder," he murmured, looking at the top of the tallest shelf, where her shirt was draped.
As she pulled up her pants, she followed Alistair's gaze and started laughing. "Well, my love, it seems we'll have to add 'flying' to the list of my seemingly endless rumored abilities!"
To Be Continued…
- 2
- 3
- 4
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Tainted Dreams