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The Last Dance	By : kireinakittie Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 7585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age II or Dragon Age: Inquisition, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 5 - Rape and Ruin
As the dust settled, Hawke lifted her head. Alistair coughed and shifted beneath her. A lit torch guttered on the stone floor nearby. Hawke moved to a crouch and lifted the torch. By the dim light it was difficult to make out the walls and ceiling of the mine, but the faint traces of daylight from the entrance were gone.
“Are you ok?” Alistair asked as he sat up. He cradled Evelyn’s head in the crook of his arm and wiped the dust from her face, checking for injuries. She appeared unhurt, and was still breathing shallowly.
“I’m fine” Hawke stood and walked slowly toward the entrance. She’d only gone half a dozen paces before she saw the way back blocked off by fallen rocks and sand. “Buuuut it appears we’re trapped.”
“How is she?” Hawke asked, turning back to Alistair.
“Err… Look.” Alistair motioned for Hawke to come closer. He smoothed the dust from the pale skin on Evelyn’s arm, exposing the cut above her elbow. The skin was beginning to discolor, and a faint darkness could be seen branching out from it, like shadowy veins. “Please tell me that’s a good sign?” He asked her.
“I doubt it… I’ve never seen that poison react this way.” Hawke sighed, and thought for a moment.
“Alright” She said “A bit further in the mine opens out, there’s a place we can stop and take stock of the situation. And we’ll need to clean her up and treat her injuries.”
“Shouldn’t we wait here? What if the others come back?”
“They will come back, and they will dig us out, but for now we need a clean space and more room to work. We can leave a note for them.”
Satisfied with the plan, Alistair let Hawke lead them deeper into the mine. They emerged into an open area with wooden scaffolding and old tools and equipment littering the floor. To the right of the clearing some cracked concrete slabs covered the ground and it was to these that they gravitated, finding that the stone provided a solid, flat surface. Unfortunately most of their equipment was on the other side of the cave in, but between what they had and what they could find the pair managed to create and light some more torches. While Hawke looked around and set some makeshift traps for any nasties, Alistair got some water from his canteen and used a wet rag to clean himself up, and then the Inquisitor.
When Hawke returned she saw that Evelyn’s beloved white coat had made it through the collapse and Alistair was using it to make a bed by the wall for the unconscious girl.
“She is going to kill you if you wreck that coat.” She told the warden.
Alistair smoothed a stray lock of hair back from Evelyn’s pale face.
“I would gladly die if it means she will survive to face Corypheus.” He answered solemnly.
Hawke sighed, muttering under her breath about ‘damn serious wardens’ and ‘no sense of humour’. She sat on the stone and hugged her knees to her chest in silence while Alistair cleaned and dressed the cut on Evelyn’s arm.
“What now?” He asked, sitting down against the wall.
“Now we wait.” Hawke replied, laying her head down on one knee.
-
Several hours passed.
Alistair dozed where he sat, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Hawke remained alert, periodically checking the traps and the site of the cave in. She returned to the other two and sat down again, crossing her long legs under her, and watching Evelyn’s chest rise and fall with her shallow breathing. The inky veins under her skin had slowly spread up her shoulder and the first faint marks could be seen inching along her collarbone, in stark contrast to the extreme whiteness of her skin.
While Hawke watched the Inquisitor, a faint violet mist began to creep across the cavern floor. She cursed her lapse in attention as the first smoky tendrils reached her, and with a racing heart she tried to stand to face the unknown threat. But it was already too late. With a muffled curse and a soft thud she fell to the ground unconscious, and the mist swept over them all.
-
Silently a shadow moved through the mist to stand before the three sleeping figures. Flowing black robes clad the emaciated form, and long pale hands could be seen peeking from the voluminous sleeves. Broad shoulders swathed in dark cloth and equally dark long straight hair that seemed to hold blue highlights by the flickering torch. The creature had deathly pale and pointed features, unblinking dark eyes and a pair of curved black horns.
“Behold” it said in a strong, clear voice to a man who emerged from the mist behind it “The power of the master.”
As the creature raised one skeletal hand the violet glow intensified and Alistair’s eyes opened. Its lips curled into a wicked smirk as the warden mechanically climbed to his feet and began to disrobe. The heavy sword belt hit the ground with a metallic clang, his eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing. Like a wooden puppet he knelt over Evelyn’s body and began to unlace his breeches with one hand, using the same hand to free his cock from the confines of his pants. The Inquisitor offered no resistance as her own leather pants were unlaced and peeled down her pale thighs. Alistair positioned himself in between her legs and brought his cock to attention with swift strokes of his right hand, then forced it inside her. She was dry, and very tight, the fragile flesh tearing slightly under the pressure. Holding his weight above her he began to thrust relentlessly into that tight heat, muscles in his back and ass rippling with each powerful movement.
The creature’s pale tongue flicked out of its mouth, like a slimy worm, to lick its thin lips while it enjoyed its handiwork. The man watched silently, fascination and disgust evident on his rough features.
“Is she sick?” He asked in a gruff voice, noticing the discoloration of Evelyn’s skin.
“Poisoned.” The creature answered in a nonchalant manner.
“Uh… Should we…?”
“It won’t kill her. The anchor burns the poison from her blood.”
For a moment the smack of flesh on flesh was the only sound in the dimly lit cavern. Alistair continued the invasion of the Inquisitor’s unresponsive body, jolting her slender form with every hard thrust. The creature moved closer, until it hovered over them like a great demonic bird. The warden’s breathing changed and the creature placed its cold, white hands on his sweat slicked back, the violet light intensifying until the creature’s companion had to look away.
The creature turned.
“It is done.” It said, uninterested in Alistair and Evelyn now that its objective was complete. Almost as an afterthought it had the warden return himself and Evelyn to their previous states of dress and reposition themselves as though nothing happened.
The man looked at the creature.
“So… That’s it then? Corypheus’s demon child will be born?” He asked skeptically.
“A gross oversimplification. But yes. Stage one is complete.”
“Why all this…?” The man asked, waving his arm to indicate all that had just transpired.
The creature seemed to consider the question for a moment.
“Artistry.” It finally said, then silently returned from whence it came, its companion following behind, still none the wiser.
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The Last Dance