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Insidious Seduction	By : Tanwen Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 5988 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Shaeri keeps running once inside the hidden passageways of Halamshiral despite the uneven ground. Her body knows exactly the turns to take, knows which door to stop in front of and open up.

Briala is there waiting for her, a bewildered expression on her face. “Mythal bless me, he was right,” the elf - the power behind Empress Celene - says. “He does have you.”

Shaeri drops her eyes to the floor in a small act of rebellion. She is not being prompted to interact with Briala, so she will not.

“It is not complete, yet,” Solas says, and the words set her body on fire. Before she knows what is happening she is dropping to the floor in front of him, head bowed, body quivering. “I am only able to do this much because of the power of the Anchor. When I took it back into me, it made her an open book.”

Pain. Pain that starts in her hand and runs down to her elbow. Her arm is on fire and the pain is spreading and -

Solas murmurs words to her, touches her hand, and the pain fades. The gratitude she feels at that is genuine, and she is ashamed and furious at herself for feeling anything positive towards that utter bastard at the moment.

“I thought you could not remove the Anchor,” Briala says.

“Only because she took the power from the Well of Sorrows,” Solas replies. “When she bound herself to Mythal - when I took Mythal’s power - it gave me an opening that I had not possessed before.” He chuckles. “And I have spent the past two years restoring my power, as you well know.”

“So how am I to address you?” Briala asks. “As Solas, as Fen’Harel, or perhaps Mythal?”

“Fen’Harel will do. I believe I am done with being Solas. It was a useful identity, but its time has passed.”

“As you say, Fen’Harel,” Briala says. “How long will she remain open to you?”

“Long enough for me to place a few more bindings, which will give me all the time I need to make her utterly mine.” Solas places a hand under her chin, tilts it up. Shaeri does her best to radiate defiance. “Ah. I believe a preview of your future is in order, vhenan.”

Shaeri feels his power wrap around her like a caress, invisible hands stroking her and making her feel so good. She looks into his eyes and knows that she gazes upon the face of her Master. A smile spreads across her lips and words pour out. “I live to serve you, Master.”

“And you love and worship only me,” her Master says.

“Yes,” Shaeri agrees readily. Her body is growing warmer by the second.

“You love and worship Fen’Harel.”

“Yes, Master.” The heat is increasing between her thighs.

“You will obey my every word.”

“Yes.” She feels wetness start to trickle into her smalls.

“You will never try to hurt me. You will never try to leave.”

“Never, Master.” Hurt him? Leave his side? How could he think she would ever do such horrid things?

“Remember this, vhenan,” Fen’Harel says. “Remember how good I can make you feel. You want this. You want to be bound to me.”

He lets out a long breath. His power fades, and she can think of him as Solas once more. Shaeri stares at him for a long moment, fury building inside her, and then she lunges for him.

Before she can close the distance, she trips herself and falls flat on her face. Shaeri is even more furious, now, because she is never that clumsy. She gets to her knees and tries to strike at him with her magic instead. The ball of fire hits the wall next to him instead.

You will never try to hurt me. His words come back to her, their fire mixing with the lyrium running through her veins.

Shaeri is almost certain this will be a futile gesture, but she must try. She gets to her feet and bolts for the door she entered by, but freezes in place before it. She cannot make herself move to open it.

“You see how useless it is,” Solas says. “It is inevitable that you will kneel before me. You might save yourself some pain and allow it to happen.”

“Never,” Shaeri says, feeling sick - and, she realizes, still aroused. Just the sound of his voice makes her want to turn and run to him, permit him to take her and use her as he has done before.

If she had not loved him, she would have more strength to resist. But she did. And no magic is needed to conjure memories of their time together, how happy she was with him.

Solas shakes his head in regret. “I fear she will need some time before she can be seen in public with you, Briala. That can be easily explained by the travel time to the Dales.” He chuckles. “It is not as though such things can be instantaneous.”

Briala smiles briefly before her expression turns thoughtful. “There will be questions. From the Council, and those who have traveled with her.”

“I am confident that you can handle such questions,” Solas says. “You will have whatever assistance you need, but this task is yours to handle.”

“As you say, Fen’Harel,” Briala says, inclining her head slightly.

“It is time for us to leave,” Solas says. “Follow.”

Shaeri feels his power wrapping around her once more. She tries to fight it, to halt in place, but her legs are carrying her forward, a half-pace behind him, and she follows him through the Eluvian.

The entry ends, and Shaeri realizes that the events that happened once they had reached his stronghold - once she had seen this room for the first time - are still clear in her memory. She has never written them down, but she can still conjure them up.

She pushes the memory away. If she wishes to feel that, she has only to wait for Fen’Harel - Solas, you have to think of him as Solas - to visit her again.

As though her thoughts can conjure him, she hears his footsteps, and shoves the journal back in its hole, covers her tracks. This time, she makes herself go to the far side of the room from the door. He will not find her waiting for him by the door like an eager mabari. Shaeri Trevelyan survived the Anchor, survived Corypheus and all his servants. She will survive this.

Solas enters her room and looks around. She does not move from her hiding place. He frowns, and Shaeri feels his power reach for her, wrapping her in silk, caressing every inch of her body …

Shaeri moans aloud, and then he is standing next to her, his frown deepening. He shakes his head sadly. “I had thought we were past this, vhenan,” he says. “I see that I will need to be strict with you today.”

Shaeri feels Solas start to tug on the strings around her, but instead of flooding her with arousal as she is expecting, he simply brings her to her feet and holds her body still. She is confused, for a moment, and then she thinks she knows what is coming. She would almost prefer the arousal to -

Solas holds her gaze with his own, and as always she feels a curious lightening of her body, as though her mind is detaching from it. Her stomach does a flip as Solas’ eyes glow green.

“Sleep,” he says. Shaeri feels the command overcome her, waves battering against her as she succumbs.

She has the sensation of falling to the ground without the pain associated with such a fall, and looks up. She is in the rotunda at Skyhold, walls covered in Solas’ murals. It is exactly as she remembers it - quite possibly because Solas keeps bringing her here whenever he feels she needs a stricter lesson.

This time, she does not run to test the wards. They are always in the same place, creating an area that Solas can play in while keeping out unwanted guests. But keeping them out does not mean they are not there, watching, and that is one of the worst parts of these little trips.

Shaeri feels a flare of magic and knows that Solas -

Fen’Harel.

The conditioning is stronger here, as is Solas’ power.

Shaeri grits her teeth, clenches her fists. “Solas,” she whispers.

Fen’Harel, her mind responds.

“Solas,” she insists, louder this time, not caring that he will hear.

Fen’Har-

Master.

Both her conditioning and Fen’Harel’s power burn that word, that fact, into Shaeri Trevelyan’s entire body. An exquisite mixture of arousal and pain fills her, brings her to her knees. The mixture is a sign of how torn she is, how much she is fighting his power. She refuses to acknowledge that her surrender is inevitable, as always.

She feels Fen’Harel’s heat before his hands close over her breasts, the image of her dress vanishing in a second to allow him instant access. He massages gently, and she lets out a moan as her resistance begins to fade. Of course he is her Master. His power cannot be denied, and she is being foolish in resisting his gifts -

They are not gifts. They are a poison and I will not give in.

“But you have already done so, vhenan,” Fen’Harel says gently. “You have already accepted my gifts, and there is no escaping them now.” He bends down and kisses her tenderly, and she melts, leans into the kiss, relaxes enough to let his power wash over her fully. The pain fades and she is filled with a glowing contentment, all thoughts fading away as her body responds to her Master.

Shaeri makes a sound of protest when her Master backs away, which turns into a snarl when his influence fades and her emotions are her own once more. Her heart is pounding and she wants (oh, how much she wants) to drag him back over and make him finish what he started, but she will not give him the satisfaction.

“You are being quite stubborn today,” Fen’Harel says, and shakes his head. “Very well, then.”

All at once she is wrapped in a blanket of magic that lifts her off the ground, suspending her in the air. The blanket divides into small tendrils, like hundreds of fingers running across her skin at once. She feels each one of them, touching her like feathers, the combined effect more electrifying than it should be. She is being kissed on her neck and having her feet massaged, hands running up her spine and across her breasts - all at the same time. The worst part is that Fen’Harel is not pulling the strings to make her aroused. Her mind and her emotions are without his immediate influence but she is still giving him the result he wants, gasping and writhing with each touch. She cannot help it.

The sensation fades for a moment without letting her move an inch, then redoubles. Her legs are spread apart and the tendrils touch her inner thighs, stroking that sensitive area without actually touching her cunt. The first time he did this, she was in more of a position to appreciate the skill in that. Now, she is ashamed of how quickly she becomes aroused to a fever pitch. Or would be, if she was currently capable of thinking.

Fen’Harel is overloading her mind and body with sensation. She cannot fully appreciate the intense massaging her breasts are getting without ignoring the way a tendril is brushing the edge of her chin - and either one by itself would be pleasant enough to focus on. Those, and a hundred other things all happening at once. Her gasps are louder, her moans starting to sound frantic.

Fen’Harel’s footsteps seem to echo loudly as he moves closer to her. Shaeri is permitted to look down at him, breathing heavily. With an air of indifference, he places a finger in her cunt.

She is nearly overcome by that single gesture. Arousal spikes in her, giving her mind a chance to refocus on that lone finger tracing lazy patterns on her walls. “Let me cum,” she manages to spit out. “Maker damn you, So- Fen’Harel. Let me cum.”

“Your Maker cannot hear you,” Fen’Harel says calmly, and adds a second finger. Shaeri cries out, her head whipping back as she takes heavy gulps of air. Oh, Maker, but this feels so good. Fen’Harel knows her inside and out by this point, knows exactly where to put pressure to make her whimper and moan. She wants to cum, as badly as she has ever wanted anything in her life.

“Please,” she says.

“Please, what?” Fen’Harel replies, still unnaturally calm. His two fingers find and encircle her clit and she begins to pant. There. There. Theretherethere…

“Please let me cum,” she gasps. “Please, please, I need this, I need to cum.”

Fen’Harel’s fingers pause for a moment, as though he is considering her request. “No. Not yet.”

When the fingers withdraw she tries to curse him again, but all that comes out is a whimper. She has only a moment of respite before Fen’Harel’s tongue slides into the gap his fingers left. Shaeri moans, and feels her body pressing against his mouth.

Very good, vhenan. The words join the blanket of power still around her, boosting her sense of utter contentment. See how much pleasure I bring you? See the feelings that I can evoke in you?

There is but a small part of Shaeri that is capable of thinking, and it is saying things like yes please more need more need you…

And who am I, vhenan? Who am I to you? His tongue is flicking against her clit erratically, bringing uneven bursts of pleasure.

The walls she has been holding up against him crack and burst away and she begins babbling. “Master. You are Master. Please, Master, I need you, please, I need to cum, please, please…”

You are my slave. You belong to me utterly. You will do as you are told.

“Yes, Master, always,” Shaeri promises. “Your slave worships you. Wants you. Needs you. Please, Master, please.”

Such obedience and devotion deserves a reward. Master withdraws his tongue and she quivers with anticipation. She knows that he wants to watch her, that he enjoys watching her like this.

“Cum for me,” he says, and the limits on her body’s ability to respond vanish. Shaeri moans loudly as her climax crashes over her. She arches her back, writhing in the invisible bonds still holding her in the air. Pleasure fills her with a sustaining intensity, keeping her mind completely blank while her body basks in sensation.

You are mine, vhenan. The words sink into her soul, layering upon those he has already put there. Mine utterly, mine always. You love and worship me.

“I love and worship you,” Shaeri mumbles, her mouth barely able to form the words.

You desire only to serve and obey.

“I will serve and obey.” She moans as he touches her, slides his hands up her thighs.

“Continue, my beloved,” Master says gently. “You know the words.”

Shaeri’s litany bubbles up inside her. She is almost giddy with her desire to show Master how devoted she is to him. “I serve Fen’Harel. I worship Fen’Harel. Fen’Harel owns me. Fen’Harel controls me. I want to be owned. I want to be controlled. I live only to serve him. I live only to do his will.” In her nearly exhausted state, the words come out in a monotone. “I love Fen’Harel. I love his power and glory and wish only to worship and obey him. Fen’Harel loves me. Fen’Harel prizes me above all others for being his devoted slave.”

“Yes, he does,” Master says, caressing her breasts. “Almost finished, vhenan.”

“I always wanted to be Master’s slave,” Shaeri says, and with those words she feels herself drifting down to the ground. Master pulls her into his arms and kisses her gently. She clings to him and returns the kiss with as much feeling as she is able to conjure up. Her bones are jelly and she is being supported only by his strength, but she does not mind. She could stay like this forever.

“Ah, vhenan,” Master says when he breaks the kiss. He is still holding her up in his arms. “So stubborn. So fiery. I know that you would not be yourself without it, but then -“ he chuckles wryly. “I only want you to be yourself some of the time. When I need to take you out and parade the Inquisitor around.” He strokes her hair. “I admit that I take some pleasure in watching you struggle and fail, in seeing that moment where your resistance breaks and you become my creature in all things.”

Shaeri whimpers softly and buries her head against her Master’s chest.

“Now it is time for you to prove the truth of your words, and serve me,” Master says. He puts a hand under her chin and tilts her head up to meet her gaze. Shaeri feels a small, silly smile spreading across her face at this sign of his regard for her. “For you have aroused me with your moans, your declaration of utter devotion and obedience, and a good slave always tends to her Master’s needs.”

“Yes Master,” Shaeri breathes, and does not so much kneel as fall towards the ground and prevent herself from collapsing at the last minute.

“Would that I could fuck you properly, vhenan,” he says, gloriously naked before her, his fully erect cock bobbing enticingly. Shaeri eagerly fastens her lips around it, moaning softly at the pleasure of being permitted to serve. “But I fear your poor mortal body could not take it, so we will both have to be content with this.” He lays a hand on top of her head. “And believe me, I will be quite content with this.”

Shaeri does not think the words yes Master so much as feel a general sense of agreement and eagerness. Her mind detaches, enjoying the contentment that her Master has permitted her to have, while her mouth works on his cock. She is not able to apply any skill or deliberate act, as she sometimes will with him, but simply sucks repeatedly. She can barely hear Master’s moans over the sounds of pleasure she is making herself, but she knows that he is enjoying himself. He has told her, repeatedly, how much he enjoys having her do this. It is one of the things she can remember, even when so many other things fall away in her Master’s presence.

“You are closer now, vhenan,” Master tells her. “Closer to becoming mine in all things. Each time I take you - ah! - to that edge, that point before you break - you allow me a little more of yourself. It is only a matter of time before you are entirely mine.”

In the state she is in, Shaeri cannot imagine not wanting to be his in all things. In all ways. But she is not expected to give an answer. She is expected to suck. Which she is quite happy to do.

Her Master keeps talking, telling her how much he enjoys her obedience, but the words never quite register. There is only her mouth moving, the heat she feels from him, the sweet taste of his seed filling her mouth as he cries out, a hand holding her head in place, forcing her to accept it all.

A duty she is only too happy to perform for her Master.

When he is done, when she has served him as best as she is able, he helps her to stand and wraps her in his arms before taking them out of the Fade. Her Master puts her to bed, once more, murmuring endearments to her before exiting her room and leaving her to drowse contentedly.
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Insidious Seduction