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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
- 47
- 48
- 49
@Mary: ty for your review - and yeah, kingly Alistair is super hot.

Chapter 48
Despite my cloak Rori shivers so badly, I begin to worry she could be ill. She insists she is not but I will have Wynne take a look at her anyway. We find the rest of our little party in the orchard behind the Spoiled Princess where they have set up our tents. The refugees from the south mean good business for the innkeeper - at least those with enough coins. Rori groans when she sees our tents and excuses herself, marching off towards the inn while I search for Wynne.
Before I can find her, Rori returns, seemingly rather content with herself. "Come on, I got a room for us." I want to protest as I really think she should be talking to Wynne. She looks rather pale but the prospect of sleeping in a real bed tonight seems to make her feel a bit better. Maybe she just needs a rest.
The room turns out to be a suite, actually the only suite of the inn, fittingly called the Princess Suite. "I am a spoiled noble brat that got fed with a silver spoon all of her life," Rori says, grinning impishly, when I point out our companions are outside in their tents. "I deserve this. It's my birthright."
The room is furnitured with one large and impressingly clean bed, a wardrobe, two armchairs and a table in front of a fireplace with a crackling fire and candles on the mantlepiece. The table is set with plates, two bottles of wine and lamb chops, baked potatoes, a bowl of different vegetables, bread, fruit and cheese.
"Feeling rather decadent today, aren't you?" I laugh, fishing a lamb chop from the plate. Maker, I'm starving.
"You haven't yet seen everything, my handsome bastard prince," she teases, her voice a low and husky purr. I swallow hard and stare at her hungrily. Suddenly the lamb chop isn't the most appetizing thing in the room anymore. She takes my hand and drags me along, stealing the lamb chop from me at the same time.
"Hey!"
Rori just smiles and feeds me, allowing me to lick her fingers clean. Mhmm... I could get used to a bit of decadence sometimes.
Behind a screen painted with running mabaris there's a large wooden bathtub filled with steaming hot water. Rori sighs contently at the mere sight. "I've been looking forward to a hot bath all day long," she confesses, stretching like a cat that just woke from a nap. Despite the warmth in the room, she hugs herself and shudders.
I help her getting undressed. And she eagerly returns the favour. Her small hands tenderly roam my chest and belly once she has gotten rid of my shirt, feeling the smoothness of my skin and the firmness of my muscles underneath. She sighs contently, tiptoeing to kiss me.
Oh, I so know where this will all lead to.
First it gets us into the bathtub together. The water is almost scalding and I only realize how tense Rori must have been all day long when she relaxes against me. She sits between my legs with her back resting against my chest and my arms wrapped around her while I feed her and myself with grapes from a wooden bowl we have floating on the water. She keeps teasingly sucking at my fingers every time I pop a grape into her mouth.
Such a temptress.
So she wants to play games? I'm in.
I abandon the grapes and nuzzle Rori's neck instead, brushing aside the damp strands of her crimson hair. She tilts her head back, exposing her throat to me as I trail little bites down to the crook of her neck and up again to nibble at her earlobe. My hands cup both her breasts, squeezing them tenderly first and rougher when Rori snarls at me. So we're not playing nice this time. I get it.
First I take her hands and place them on both sides of the bathtub, making her clutch the rim. "Your hands stay right there and you will not touch anything else until you got my permission."
A shudder runs through her at the sound of my voice purring in her ear and she nods obediently, shivering in anticipation.
"Good girl."
I don't know why, but it really turns Rori on when I order her around in bed. To be honest it turns me on, too, to watch her submit. I have no idea where this comes from as I love her strength and sass, her stubbornness and the way she always has to talk back.
But here I am in command and for a change that is really... thrilling. I love to be in control over her.
I pinch her nipples hard enough to make her cry out both in pain and pleasure. While squeezing and kneading her breasts, I keep biting and sucking at her neck, eliciting those cute mewing noises from her, every single one of them making my length twitch. One of my hands travels down across the flat of her belly and the little patch of now damp curls between her legs. My arousal is pressing hard against her back and as she squirms, she's rubbing it with her firm little buttocks.
Maker's Breath!
In moments like that I am still at awe at what I've been missing all that time before Rori stumbled into my life. And I call myself a moron for having turned her down when she asked me first to make love to her.
My fingers have found that hard pebble between her legs, rubbing it, squeezing it gently. Rori's head rolls from side to side, she arches her back, her lips parted to allow those beautiful moans of pleasure escape her throat. Her body is glistening and slick with foam and water. I can watch her in the huge gold-framed mirror right across the room.
Maker's Breath!
I find myself growing really fond of mirrors.
She's close. I can sense the tension rise inside of her, the way her body stiffens and her breathing gets ragged. She has closed her eyes and surrendered her body to my control.
Pleasing a woman, I find it's similar to learning how to play an instrument. Rori and I, we had our share of out-of-tune encounters, but we've improved, gotten to know each other better, explored what we like and by now... it's music. More even... it's a symphony.
For now Rori calls the tune and I play second fiddle. Not that I mind. She's panting and gasping, mewing softly in her afterglow of ultimate pleasure. Oh, it's such a lovely sound and sight. The way her bosom heaves, her lips slightly parted, her eyes half closed and hazy.
It's time for my reward.
I make her kneel so that I can watch her in the mirror, and grasp the rim of the bathtub for support, her little ass raised high and I behind her. "Alistair!" Rori gasps when I enter her with one forceful thrust. She's all slick and ready and eager to take me in. I spend my time watching me slide in and out of her in an excruciatingly slow rhythm, both hands resting at her hips to direct her motions. "Harder!" she hisses, trying to push herself back on me.
Oh no! You won't!
I stop moving and she snarls in frustration, bucking violently to shake my hands off. Then she gasps both in surprise, pain and pleasure when I bring down three sharp slaps to her buttocks. "You're not the one in control here. Do you understand?" I growl, watching her expression in the mirror, how she bites her lips at the sound of my voice, the way her cheeks blush and how her eyes grow wide and round. "I asked if you understood?" I slap her again, enjoying the shiver that runs through her body.
"Yes, my prince," she whispers huskily, biting her lips to stop herself from grinning widely while intending to look docile. She fails miserably. It makes me chuckle.
"You're so naughty," I scold her, rubbing her buttocks gently where my palm has struck her.
"You're one to talk!"
"All your fault. Before you walked into my life I've been a completely innocent and docile young man with thoughts as pure as freshly fallen snow."
Rori's only response is a loud snort.
"You're really asking for this, you know?" I sigh and slap her again. She winces, then opens her mouth for a smart retort that gets drowned by her lustful cry when I ram into her forcefully. She demanded this to be harder... and who am I to deny?
When I'm done with her, there's more water on the floor than in the tub and we are both utterly spent. My brain feels fuzzy. My whole body still trembles in the aftermath of our wild lovemaking. And I grin so stupidly that I find myself wondering if the Chantry was right after all - that you destroy your own mind by indulging in smutty, non-reproductive... err... lamppost licking... simply for your own sinful pleasure.
Duh, I think, I so don't care.
We somehow manage to climb out of the bathtub and dry ourselves. Then we have a picnic in bed. Afterwards I make love to Rori again. Slowly this time, tenderly. We're both too tired and full to be able to perform anything out of the ordinary.
I almost drift off to sleep when I collapse on top of my beautiful and beloved ginger. I'm so exhausted and still I feel so alive. She has that effect on me. Everything before Rori now seems dull. It's as if my life has been drawn in shades of grey and now there's colouring everywhere. I kiss and nuzzle her neck before I pull out of her lazily. She stretches like a cat and tries to stiffle a yawn, watching me contently from half closed eyes.
Suddenly her eyes snap open and she sits up, staring at me startled. "Oh!" she gasps, lifting her hand to her mouth. I follow her gaze and find myself staring down at my still half erect length all covered in bright crimson blood.
I'm not particularily whiny when getting injured during battle. Really, I'm not! Afterwards, yeah, I perhaps have a tendency to whine and complain and wail... but in the heat of the moment I do not falter. I've seen a whole lot of real bad injuries...
Like when my arm was broken and the bones were sticking out of my flesh... Or when my leg was twisted in a way it was actually only attached to the rest of my body by some skin and fibers... Ah, wait, I didn't really get to see that. I passed out when the ogre twisted my leg but Zevran gave me a rather explicit and detailed description afterwards... That still counts, doesn't it? Or when a hurlock sliced through Rori's leather armor and she practically had to stuff her bowels back in - err, alright, forget about that... I got violently sick at that sight and shrieked until Wynne told me to shut the fuck up because she couldn't work while I was being noisy.
But right now at the sight of my... manhood... all slick with bright crimson blood I feel like fainting. And like getting violently sick and shriek. I just can't decide what to do first, so I just stare in pure blank horror and stammer.
"Oh... Maker... fuck!"
"Alistair..."
"Bloody blast it!... Merciful Andraste!"
"Alistair..."
"That's... blood... ohhhh... damn... blast, blast, blast!"
"Alistair!" Rori says so sharply that I just have to look at her. "This is not your blood," she adds firmly once she has my attention.
"It is not?" I ask stupidly. "Then where does it come from?"
"It's mine," she says matter-of-factly.
"Yours?" I croak, only now noticing the crimson smudge on the bedcloth between her legs. "But... oh Maker! Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?... How did I hurt you?" I'm close to panicking, while at the same time a tidal wave of pure relief washes over me. No damage done to my most private parts! I almost laugh out loud in a very maniac way. I can rein myself in enough to suffocate the urge and all that comes out is a strangely strangled sound.
"Alistair, you did not hurt me," Rori gasps in exasperation. I am certainly missing something here. Blood means injuries. She looks fine, though. Well, she has blushed a brighter shade of pink and looks thoroughly ashamed while she hugs her pillow to herself. "All women got that once a month," she explains in a very small voice when I only stare uncomprehendingly at her. She peers at me timidly over the rim of her pillow.
"I know!" I wail, finally getting what is going on.
Maker, she has to think I am a complete moron!
Well, I certainly behave like one. I should have realized that's what it is. Growing up in the Chantry means growing up around a whole lot of women... travelling with young women in close proximity and without much privacy... you cannot not notice... and once you have noticed, you choose to ignore... Unless you are Zevran. Then you go and ask the woman in question if you can give her a massage. He's been nagging Leliana and Morrigan about it. But never Rori. Not once - as far as I recall, now I force myself to think about it... "But... not you..."
"And you didn't think that's somewhat weird?" she whines from behind the pillow. She has squeezed her legs shut by now and crawled as far away from me as possible. "Maker... why does this have to happen now?" she mutters.
"Err... no? Yes? I don't know. But now you mention it..." Oh blast it! She's right, it is weird. But I didn't pay much attention when it came to that part of her being a woman. I guess, I should have... then again, no... I mean, how could I have probably brought up such a topic anyway. "I... I'm sorry... I really don't know how to handle this... Maker, I act like a fool!"
I so bet something like that has never happened to Zevran. Not ever. All the awkwardness got reserved for me alone. And for Rori, it seems. The poor girl is squirming uncomfortably.
"No, I am sorry. If I had known it would happen I'd not have... then you wouldn't... I wouldn't have bothered you with my inconveniences," she whimpers while she tries to fish a towel from the bedside table without leaving her hiding place behind the pillow.
"You are never an inconvenience to me, kitten." That I even made her think she could be, is proof enough for how idiotic I actually behave. I take pity in her and hand her the towel.
"I just didn't expect this to happen anymore," Rori whispers, her voice sounding choked. She's so utterly ashamed of her disgraceful display - obviously her opinion, certainly not mine - that she cannot even look at me. "After the Joining it just... stopped. And then you said Grey Wardens cannot have children and it somehow made sense." Oh blast! Now she's crying.
"Rori, why didn't you say anything?" She scrambles away when I close the distance between us but I won't let her and hug her anyway. "Hush, kitten, it's alright. Hey, don't cry. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Say what?" she sobs against my chest. "I asked you about what changes physically when one becomes a Grey Warden, remember? ... But... how could I possibly have asked about... that?" The mere thought seems to horrify her.
That couldn't have been so hard to do, could it? I mean, it can't be healthy to just stop having... that... right? Did it hurt? It certainly must have worried her.
"How about: Alistair, I haven't... I have... there's not been any... uhm..." Maker! This is awkward. "Blast!" I groan.
This is much harder than I thought. It's actually... impossible. I try to imagine how she stands there in front of me and goes: Hey, Alistair, my menses have stopped, you got any idea why?
"Alright, point taken. No way you could have said something about that... to me." I blush so hard it feels as if my head is burning.
"You're cute," Rori smiles while the tears still stream down her face. Her sobs have faded but now she has one of these adorable hiccups.
"Glad my idiocy and awkwardness are at least amusing." I hug her closer and kiss the top of her head as I try to comfort her. I really don't want her to feel uncomfortable around me. "You must have been worried."
Rori shrugs and offers a sheepishly crooked grin. "My family murdered, my brother missing, I marked a traitor and kingslayer, a Blight to end... my... menses not happening anymore wasn't my biggest problem, you see."
Now she mentions it...
"Does... does it hurt?" I ask shyly. Maker, I so do know absolutely nothing about women.
"Now? Not really."
Not really? How can something not really hurt. It hurts or it doesn't hurt. Does it hurt a bit? Does it feel uncomfortable? Does she need me to do something? I mean, I cannot just let her sit there and... bleed! "And... what do you... what do we do now? Should I fetch Wynne?"
"No," she laughs, her hiccup making this sound even cuter. "I clean up the mess, make sure I don't cause any more and then we go to sleep."
Said and done. But of course I help her clean the mess, myself, her. I mean, I cannot just let her do this all alone and watch. Not when she's in such a... condition. The way I tuck her into bed makes her smile. "I'm not ill, Alistair," she reminds me when I wrap my arms around her.
"Let me fuss a little, that at least gives me the illusion I could do something for you," mumble as I bury my face in her hair.
I cannot sleep. I lie there and stare at the darkness, feeling Rori sleeplessly shift in my embrace. "Alistair?" she finally whispers. "How do you know Grey Wardens cannot have babies?"
"Duncan told me," I whisper back. I was already wondering when she would ask.
"He hardly told you anything of importance but he told you that?"
"Yeah, funny, isn't it? That's certainly some piece of information that has come in handy."
"Has it?"
"It saved you from Morrigan's awful contraceptive brews."
"It did indeed," she admits and shudders.
"When I was introduced to my fellow Grey Wardens I asked about their families," I explain. Hearing others talk about their families, helps me to imagine how it could have been for me. It's... I don't know. Perhaps I just like to torture myself. "When most of them said they didn't have any children, I wondered why and so Duncan told me, that with the taint it is not recommended to have children - and that it doesn't happen easily anyway."
"So there's absolutely no chance?" The way she says this, she's been thinking a lot about that matter..
"Duncan personally only knew about one Grey Warden who had a child. An elven mage called Fiona. Duncan had named his axe Fiona, too, so I first thought he and her... But he said no and that with two Grey Wardens it is probably impossible."
"But he did not know for sure," Rori observes. I can hear the stubborn defiance in her voice. Her mind certainly is already working on a plan, a solution for this problem.
"It's a bit early to worry about that, don't you think?" We've only been together for a few weeks. And we are still so young. And there's the Blight. The thing about making me king. Maker, I really have other things to worry about than a possible offspring!
"Oh, yes, yes, too early now... but someday..."
"Rori, you do realize that Grey Wardens don't live that long, don't you? The Calling will end our lives before we grow old - if we don't die in battle."
"Avernus is a Grey Warden. And he's more than 200 years old," she points out tenaciously. "He should have heard the Calling by now, shouldn't he?"
"Avernus is a completely fucked up bloodmage!"
"There has to be a way...," she murmurs, completely not listening to what I say. She's already half asleep, too, mumbling more to herself than talking to me. "Blight first, everything else later."
Rori once said, she likes to believe she will have a future. She certainly has plans for that far away time. I do hope, she'll get to live long enough to see it happen. But I guess, she's just too stubborn to die. So if anybody has a chance to survive this whole Blight and indeed see her happy ending, then it's probably Rori. This, somehow, is a very comforting thought.
- 47
- 48
- 49
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In good times and in bad