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Dark Game	By : TropicalFool Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1903 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the BioWare or EA characters, any aspect of Dragon Age, locations, plots or anything else--they do-- and I make no money from this story, more's the pity.

Chapter List
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Back in their quarters, Anders half expected Random to castigate him or grab him and make him submit to that which Random had never asked of him. But no. Random only quietly undressed the mage, slipping his robe from over his head and kneeling to remove Anders' small clothes. Thank goodness he had been able to find them and had remembered to put them back on.
Random then removed his own clothes and taking Anders hand, led him to the large bed they had cobbled together from discarded pieces. He lay down, pulling Anders to him and seemed prepared to go directly to sleep.
"I'm sorry," Anders whispered.
Breathing softly, Random said, "You have nothing to be sorry for." Then closed his eyes and started quietly snoring.
Anders lay awake for many hours, his thoughts askew. He felt like a betrayer, but knew that this was silly. If Random had not wanted him to go with T'herendalin he would have simply said so, or even forcibly removed him from her clutches. He chuckled at the thought of T'herendalin having clutches. What where clutches anyway? Wasn't that what they called a group of chickens? Or was that cluck? A cluck of chickens? With this thought, he feel deeply asleep.
Some time shortly before false dawn, when the light was becoming silvered and shimmery, Anders was awakened by Random's soft caress. "Now," Random breathed. Anders was surprised to find himself fully aroused. This early morning exercise had become a bit of a ritual to them. Not something done routinely every day, but a comfortable dance where they both knew their parts.
Anders kissed Random softly, tenderly, letting his lips linger, then gently turned him. The entering that had been so dramatic that first night had become easy and sweet. The intensity could still be there, but not in these early morning sessions. This was for love, not lust, and every sensation, however small, was treasured as a great gift. They came together quietly as one entity, then still in position fell back into blissful sleep. This was always the best sleep of any night. Brief, but utterly restorative.
As true morning dawned, Anders arose, sitting on the side of the bed, his chin in his hand. He wanted to do something special for Random, in thanks for his forbearance, and in truth in thanks for the time with T'herendalin. It was not in any way that one was better than the other (although he was sure this was something Random would not want to hear), it was that they were both so perfect in their way, and so different. Last night had been delightful in hindsight, though he admitted parts of it had been painful and terrifying at the time.
Ah, he had it! He wasn't sure that he would have time to finish before Random woke, but even a start would be a gift. Rummaging quietly in Random's chest he found what he was seeking. The small sack that held Random's collection of holed socks. Fortunately the Commander was fastidious and the tattered socks where clean.
He took up his precious needle and a bit of floss and began mending, meticulously, carefully, so that there would be no blister inducing ridges. Fully engrossed in his work, Anders jumped when Random spoke.
"You are… mending… my socks." It wasn't a question, just a simple statement of fact. Anders felt that damnable blush rising up his cheek, but they were alone and the light was low.
Bent to his work over a single candle, Anders said, "I wanted to do something nice for you. After last night. After your kindness, your understanding. I know that your socks always have holes in them and that it's uncomfortable, so yes, I am mending your socks. But this is a special treat. Don't get used to it."
Random laughed, then said, "Do not be too sure of my tolerance or forbearance, least of all my kindness. Last night I was tired, and things seemed to be happening, and I saw no need to stop them. I think that your need was greater than my ability to fulfill it, so it was… fortunate… that T'herendalin was there and willing. She seems to be good for you.
"But don't let any of this make you think that things have changed between us. I would have stayed all night if necessary. I was not leaving without you."
There was something strangely reassuring in this to Anders. He didn't understand it, but he was touched that Random would wait for him, would sit up all night, but would not disturb T'herendalin and he. He was profoundly grateful that he had come out when he did. But it was moving none the less to think that he might have been given the whole night.
Irrepressible and full of his own thoughts, Anders asked, "So, what do you think of her?"
The silence stretched, then Random said, "She is impressive. If she is telling the truth. All of those weapons. I can scarce believe it, but if she was really a Crow, and high up in their ranks, it is… possible."
"She was also a pirate. I didn't mention that part," Anders piped.
"Ah, an assassin and a dread pirate. You bring me such interesting strays Anders."
As if hearing the talk of strays, Ser Pounce-a-Lot woke mewing loudly for his morning milk and chicken. The cat had grown into a large, rangy beast, no sign left of the small starved kitten he had been when Random had found him in an alley of the Keep and given him to Anders. The kitten had been his first gift to Anders, and meant as no more than a kindness to cat and soft hearted man. It was a gift given before they had come together. Before Random had… convinced Anders that there were more possibilities to love then he had ever considered.
Now the cat, like so many small things, was a symbol of the bond between them.
Anders had been careful to leave Ser Pounce-a-Lot well tended but locked in his room when he went out to be with T'herendalin. Once they had stopped by the room so Anders could get his cloak and T'herendalin had picked up the cat, stoking it as it purred. The outraged look on Anders' face caused her to quickly set the cat down and put her hands behind her. He and T'herendalin had never spoken of it.
"You may leave that for later," Random said, indicating the half mended sock. "Just make sure it's out of reach of that fiendish cat of yours."
Ser Pounce-a-Lot did have a propensity for Random's socks. He never touched Anders', but if he found one of Random's where he could get to it, even if that meant pulling it from a crack left when the lid of the chest was closed, he would take it in his mouth and holding it with his front paws kick vigorously with his sharp back claws until there was nothing left but wet tangled string.
Wool was scarce, weavers were scared, knitters more so, everything was scarce, so socks were precious.
Random had donned his tunic. It was a rich thing of satin and braid. Nathaniel never said anything, but Anders knew that it must have come from the Howes. It came with a full set of sleeves and was no doubt made to be worn over a shirt, but, except in the most bitter cold, Random never bothered to tie on the sleeves and wore it over his bare chest. He left the lacing open so that an expanse of his broad chest showed. The tunic came almost to his knees. Not fashionable, but it suited him.
The ensemble was completed by tight britches, soft slippers and a broad belt tightly cinched. It was all rather primitive and, Anders thought, stunning.
Well Anders knew that this was not, or not only, a show of vanity. Wearing the Howe's clothes, but wearing them as a barbarian warrior would, was not lost on the nobles. Random's bare, strongly muscled, and scarred arms and chest contrasted with their spindly effete limbs and declared his power more surely than an armed entourage ever could. All in all, Anders suspected that it amused Random greatly.
"Come along," Random said, "we will put your Crow to the test." Inwardly Anders shuddered as he followed Random into the hall. He could only hope T'herendalin was up to the challenge.
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Dark Game