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In good times and in bad	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 14749 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and the characters of the game do not belong to me. This is a no profit fanfiction

Chapter List
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@isisriku90: OMG! You totally made my day! It's like an early christmas present. Thank you for your lovely review. I played Origins three times by now and Alistair has always been my most favourite character. With every playthrough Rori's character developed more, filling out the missing scenes for me. I am totally planning to finish this story and am very very glad that there's someone enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Merry Christmas!
Anyway, here's the next chapter.
Beware: Consensual Kink ahead.
Standing in front of the mirror above the dressing table, I stare at my reflection while Rori buttons my shirt. The man in the mirror frowns at me, his hazel eyes squinted. I turn my head to examine my side-face. There's not a single trace of my mother in me. All I see is Maric. Eamon has a painting of him and Queen Rowan in his study. It's really not hard to believe I'm the king's bastard. We got the same blonde hair, although Maric's reached down to his shoulders while I keep it cut short. We share the same aquiline nose, the firm jawline. Only Cailan was even more Maric's image.
"Not liking what you see, handsome?" Rori asks, wrapping her arms around my neck from behind as she looks over my shoulder. Her skin is so delicately pale compared to mine. This isn't much of a summer - not even for Fereldan standards - but I still have a tan from all the time I spend outside. Rori is as pale as always - with a myriad of the cutest freckles on her nose and cheeks. I love every single one.
"I look like Maric," I sigh.
"No surprise there. You are his son."
"I... I just thought, there'd also be a hint of my mother." Now I know even less about her than before when they made me believe her to be a maid. At least they could give me descriptions of what she looked like. They could give me a name. Now, I got nothing but the knowledge that she sought to protect me. What can be so terrible that she didn't want me to know? Who was she?
Rori rubs her cheek at mine like a cat to comfort me. "You could try to find out?"
"I could... until then... we stick to Eamon's story. We don't need anybody poking around in my past and find something they can use against me to weaken my claim to the throne."
"Wow. Already having kingly thoughts, haven't you?"
"If I have to do this, then I'm going to do it right. At least... I will try."
"That's my man!" She kisses my cheek and I turn to meet her, claiming her lips hungrily. "Hey! We'll be late for dinner!" She slaps my hands away playfully when I try to pull her dress off her shoulders. "Behave! Better help me lacing that blasted corset dress." She turns her back to me and bending over the dressing table, she clutches its sides for support. "You got to pull the laces tightly... but please leave me some room to breathe!"
I stare at her reflection in the mirror and the very last thing on my mind is getting her dressed. Quite the contrary. Sighing, I run my hands up her back - completely ignoring the laces - over her shoulders and down the front of her body until I cup her breasts with my hands.
"Alistair!" she scolds me. But the way she's glowering at me across the mirror cannot fool me. I know her too well. "We're going to be late for din..." A moan escapes her when I pinch her nipples, pressing my hips against her backside at the same time to make her feel my arousal. "Oh, blast it!" Rori breathes. "I think we can have a little appetizer before the main course..."
"Little?" I growl, reaching into my pants. "What do you call little?" There's one thing I really love about dresses - it's so easy to get to where you want to be. No awkward fumbling and pulling when you try to get your woman out of her pants. You just lift her skirt and push down her panties - and voilà!
Oh, what a sight!
The dress has slipped off her shoulders, revealing her breasts. She is delicately bent over the dressing table with her firm little ass raised, her legs slightly parted to secure her stance.
I cannot help it. It's too tempting. The way she wiggles her ass impatiently while I still admire her, rubbing my hands at her buttocks, it's like she's challenging me. "Keep still," I murmur and as she won't, I lift my hand and smack her buttocks.
She gasps and her eyes widen with shock and surprise. "Did you... did you just... spank me?" she pants.
Oh blast! What in the name of the Maker did I think I was doing? "Errr... uhm... I'm... I'm sorry... I didn't mean... did it hurt?"
"Do it again!"
"WHAT?!?"
She cannot possibly like this! Okay, I didn't slap her hard. I don't really want to hurt her... And that smacking sound when my hand met her flesh, the way she winced and whimpered... was somewhat... exciting.
We both look into the mirror, our eyes meeting across the reflection.
"Alistair..." she gasps, her expression feral, her eyes wide and hungry and dark with a desire I haven't yet seen in them. I just look like the fool I am. Like a very confused and horny fool.
Alright then... I pet her lower backside gently.
"Noooo!" Rori wails. She's about to get up and turn around but I won't let her. I like her right where she is now, so I hold her in place, pushing her down once more with one hand.
"Stay where you are." And then I smack her again, making her gasp in reply.
I cannot believe this!
I am beating up a woman and she likes it!
Another slap. I swear my hands move on their own accord! Part of me is too shocked to really comprehend what is happening. The other part is enjoying the sight of her pale skin burning red where my palm meets her buttocks.
Alright. Enough. I can't stand this anymore. This is far more than I can handle. Rori's had enough, too.
I look as shaken and guilty as I feel. Rori's face is flushed, the look on her face a mixture of shame and lust. She's trembling slightly.
"Are you... alright?" I ask timidly, hoping beyond hope I didn't hurt her when I know for sure I did. I don't feel like her asking for this is any excuse on my side.
She nods. "Are you?"
"Not sure."
I run my hands soothingly across her skin, wincing at the sight of the reddish imprint of my fingers. I am glad the signs already begin to fade.
Our eyes meet again when Rori nudges me with her backside.
She cannot possibly...
She can.
Well, we're back on save ground here. Just making love to each other without any kinkiness.
Unless one counts me watching her in the mirror while I thrust into her as kinky.
The way her boobs sway with every move, the look on her face caught in between pleasure and tension, her lips slightly parted, her eyes half closed...
If I ever become king I definitely want a dressing table in my royal bedchambers. And a mirror right above it.
...
Surprisingly we aren't late for dinner, although it took me ages to lace Rori's dress. Actually we are just in time for the servants to get us seated. I sit right next to Teagan, the second to the right side with Eamon at the head of the table. Rori completely ignores the place pointed out to her on the left side next to Isolde, however, and instead slumps down beside me. The look she shoots Eamon, when he opens his mouth to correct her, is clearly defiant. Shaking his head, he let's her have it her way.
The servants quickly rearrange the seating order as it's not only Eamon and his family and Rori's party but also some nobility he has invited. Probably to announce my claim of the throne and introduce me to the lords and ladies.
Doom.
I'm already sweating, shifting nervously on my seat. Rori next to me shifts as well. She seems utterly embarrassed, avoiding to look at anybody.
"What's wrong?" I whisper.
Everybody has taken their seats, so Eamon gets up for a toast.
And in that very moment when all the assembled lords and ladies and knights and our companions raise their glasses, that short moment of complete silence, Rori whispers to me breathlessly: "I've forgotten to put my panties back on."
Boy, she has some timing!
I just stare at her in shock, Ser Perth almost chokes on his drink, Teagan spits his out all over the table. The room is deathly quiet and everybody is staring at Rori. I almost feel sorry for her. She sinks back into her chair as if she has every intention to vanish under the table when Zevran bursts into a roaring laughter. "Never thought you'd really do that! So, I owe you five silvers, right?" the elf chuckles.
I stare at him in mere disbelief. Then at Rori. But as she looks as stunned as I am, I take it she has no clue what Zevran is talking about.
"Ten silvers, Zevran." Rori hurries to straighten herself and put on a smug smile.
"Fine. Ten. You won that bet fair and straight." He slightly bows to her and grins, winking at both of us.
"What was that all about?" I hiss at Rori when the other guests in the room begin to relax. Some even chuckle or laugh, one elderly bann wags a finger at her scoldingly.
"Just play along," Rori hisses back. "And remind me that I owe Zevran a favour."
We survive the rest of the dinner without any more catastrophes and I am almost daring to hope that I will get out of this alive and still kicking. Leliana tells a lot of tales about our adventures. She is a good story teller but I don't like the way the lords and ladies keep looking my way when she praises my fighting skills, my wits, my... leadership?
Hey, did I miss something? Since when have I been leading? I didn't lead anybody anywhere. Bad things happen when I lead. We get lost, people die, and the next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants.
Okay, me stranding anywhere without my pants nowadays could also be Rori's fault.
Absolutely it would be her fault.
"Leliana, can I talk to you... now!" I grab her arm to drag her away from a group of guests after she has finished the tale of Rori's and my battle at the Tower of Ishal. It was a grand tale, really. I'd be utterly impressed if I didn't know what it really was like. And if the hero of her story hadn't been me.
"Excuse me please, my dear lords and ladies," Leiiana curtsies and smiles pleasantly before she follows me to a quiet corner of the room.
"What is this all about? The things you make up about me... half of what you say is not true!"
"Alistair, darling, you are about to challenge Loghain. If you want to have the slightest chance to become king, we do have to work on your reputation. At this very moment you are a nobody who happens to be King Maric's bastard. Even worse, Loghain has marked you a kingslayer. He will use that against you and claim the Grey Wardens planned to murder Cailan to make you king."
"Oh," is all I can think about to say. I didn't waste a single thought on that yet. For me it was all about the Landsmeet and Eamon introducing me there. But I guess, Leliana is right. I may be Maric's son but in times like this, that's not enough.
"Don't worry, Alistair. I'm a bard. That's what I can do best. These stories will be remembered, they will be retold. In the meanwhile, just be your amiable self and talk to the people here. Charm them. You know how that works."
"I do?" All I know is how to be awkward. I am the King of Awkwardness.
And Rori is my Queen.
"Oh yes. It comes naturally. You remind them of your father. Many here have known him personally. It seems there's more of Maric in you than you ever thought." She smiles, pinches my cheek and then floats away to tell more lies about me.
I groan and, closing my eyes, I rub my forehead. I so wish I could be elsewhere. Preferably somewhere private with the young panty-less lady.
"You know, Alistair, Antiva has a long tradition of royal bastards." Zevran makes me jump once more. He moves without making any sound at all. In the dim light his elven eyes glow, reminding me of a cat sneaking upon a mouse.
"You don't say?" I look around for an escape but there's only the lords and ladies. Rori got cornered by an elderly bann. The smile on her face is a sweet fake, she's slightly flushed and bashful, shifting uncomfortably and kneading her hands.
I snatch a glass of wine from the tray of a passing by servant and down it in one go. Maybe this gets any better when I am drunk. I've turned my back to Zevran - not the smartest idea considering he's an assassin - but as his mission today seems to torture me with both his words and presence, I do not fear but hope for a quick ending.
"Oh, yes. They've led wars to claim the throne. Some of them have become kings. In fact, I'd say the current royal line in Antiva stems from bastard blood several times over," Zevran informs me, sounding almost cheerful.
"Well aren't you just chock full of useless trivia today." Go and talk to someone else! I don't want to hear about any royal bastards at the far end of Thedas. I'm busy being one myself.
"Sadly, whenever a royal bastard rears their head in public and declares themselves, it often goes poorly for them." Zevran sighs heavily, shaking his head sadly.
"Let me guess: they get assassinated?"
"Only the very popular ones."
Isn't it great? Here I am, supposed to make myself more popular. Eamon and Leliana think it will raise my chances to actually become king. Obviously it will also make it more likely for me to get murdered. Well, the darkspawn probably will beat any assassin to it. What a comforting thought.
"And the unpopular ones?" I know I shouldn't ask. But I hardly ever do what is good for me.
"Well, they get by somehow, I'm sure. There was one fellow who did quite well working as a prostitute based on his uncanny resemblance to the king. Charged a fortune."
I wonder if Zevran overheard people pointing out my resemblance to Maric. They tell little stories about him. How he kept falling off his horse when he was a young man about my age. How him being a bad horseman saved his life several times. One mentions his sudden disappearance about twenty years ago and how Loghain had the whole army running around Ferelden to look for him. That was about the only interesting thing I've heard all night long - next to Rori's confession - but unfortunately the old bann only could tell that Maric returned sound and save. It probably got something to do with Orlais.
"Couldn't afford him, I take it?" I comment on Zevran's obvious hinting of me being my father's lookalike.
The elf chuckles pleasantly. "That cynicism will serve you well, my friend. Hold onto it."
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- 40
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In good times and in bad