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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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Rori is preparing for taking part in some pit fights in the Proving. I don't like this at all. To have to watch her getting into a fight without being able to help her just feels wrong. Yes, she can totally handle herself quite well. I still don't like seeing my girl getting beaten up.
"They don't kill each other in the arena, do they?" Wynne wonders, pacing the room worriedly. "I mean... why would anyone find that entertaining? Ugh."
Oh Maker! I for sure wouldn't find it entertaining. Certainly not if Rori was involved.
"That's not the intention, no, but it can happen of course," Dagna giddily explains. The little dwarven girl with her funnily bouncing pigtails sits next to Rori on a bench and dangles her legs. Team Roristair met her as soon as we stumbled out of the tavern. She identified us as surfacers right away - not hard to do as we were the only humans in sight - and recruited us for taking her request to study magic to the Circle. In return we got ourselves a dwarven guide. Dagna is as bouncy and boisterous as Rori. And as stubbornly determined in achieving her goals.
"The Proving Grounds. Blood sport entertainment for the masses, at its best!" I chime sarcastically. "And my girl right in the middle of it. Marvellous!"
"I hear there are all kinds of rules that govern the Proving. They get very mad if you break the rules." Leliana points out. She's cutting an apple into tiny bits for her new pet. "It's to ensure nobody gets killed. Dwarves aren't monsters, you know."
"What are you worrying about?" Zevran asks while kneading Rori's shoulders, a massage that he claims to be beneficial for her muscles. I think he just uses this as an excuse to touch her and watch him with eagle eyes. "She knows some real nasty tricks - even more since she's been training with me. And she's tougher than she looks. She's going to kick ass down there. I'll make a bet on her, all the money I still got and if you want a piece of advice, my dear friend Alistair, you should do so as well." He pauses in thought, than adds in an equally cheerful tone: " "Hmm. I hear that if the spectators don't approve of a match's outcome, they rush the field and kill the fighters."
"They do WHAT!?!" I feel like fainting.
"Oh, don't worry, Rori will make it spectacular!" He ogles over Rori's shoulder, down her cleavage. "And if everything fails, she can just rip her blouse open. I'd pay to see that!"
"You know, I'm not sure whether I like having you talk about her like that," I grumble, pondering if I should smack the back of his head.
"Well, she has some pretty boobs. And you get to see them all for free. And you can squeeze them and suck her nipples and..."
"Merciful Andraste! Shut your filthy mouth, elf!" My cheeks are burning hot and red.
"Now, don't tell me you don't do that?"
"Err..." I am clearly tempted to shove Zevran into that pit.
"I'm right here, you know," Rori mumbles dreamily. She has her eyes closed, rolls her head from side to side and seems completely relaxed, humming softly - it's almost a purr.
"That massage... can you teach me how to do it?" I ask, making Zevran grin demonically at me.
"Of course, my dear friend," he purrs and I can't get rid of the feeling I doomed myself to endless suffering.
I tried to persuade... I frown, trying to remember who we actually side with in the Proving. "Do any of you know who Rori fights for?"
"No," Rori groans. "I'm totally lost. We switched allegiance once? Twice? I cannot remember. Ask Leliana, she would know." She frowns. "I hope she does know." She casts a glance at the young bard, sitting on a stone bench at the side of the room. She's hugging and feeding that ugly half-blind pig-rabbit Rori gave her.
"Ohhh, where's my cute little boy, where's my sweet darling Schmooples," Leliana coos, picking the ugly beast up and cuddling him like a baby. "There's my cutie-pie, my little cuddly Schmoople-Doople!" She showers the nug's snout with kisses.
Err...
"I've never thought one day I'd envy a nug," Zevran comments.
"And I'd never thought, anybody could have a worse taste than Rori," Morrigan snorts, looking pointedly at me. "On a second thought... the nug's not that bad."
Oh, that horrible mean witch! I glare at her as piercingly as I can possibly manage. It should be scorching. I rake my eyes over her, trying to find something to pay her back, something that would trigger a retort that leaves her devastated.
"Have a care where your eyes linger, Alistair," Morrigan hisses, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Really, if she didn't want anybody to look at her, then she should put on some clothes!
By the way: Rori's breasts are more beautiful. And bigger.
"Yes, well don't worry. It's not what you think." I snort. Hey, when I want to see a woman's bosom, Morrigan for sure would be my last choice.
"I see," she huffs, clearly not believing anything I say. How vain to think any man would feel tempted to gawk at her.
"I was looking at your nose."
Morrigan's hand flies up to touch her nose warily. "And what is it about my nose that captivates you so?"
"I was just thinking that it looks exactly like your mother's," I pleasantly point out.
"I hate you so much." Morrigan hisses
"What?" Awww! Have I found a weak spot?
"Never mind," Morrigan grumbles. Turning away she begins to rummage in her backback until she finds the golden framed mirror Rori has given her. She turns her head from side to side, examining her nose in the mirror.
Haha!
Rori asks me to help her with her armour. I wish, she'd wear something heavier - but she doesn't have the strength for a full plate armour. And it would hinder her movements. I wish, she didn't have to go out there and fight for the entertainment of the masses. Of course it's like Zevran says, she'll kick ass. But... she's my kitten. She looks so fragile, so small, so young, so vulnerable... I just don't want her to be hurt, never. Of course she has been injured before - seriously, a few times almost lethally. Still... I wish I could protect her more efficiently.
Especially I don't like having to watch her amuse a horde of dwarves that cheer when she's under attack.
"The Grey Wardens are not meant to take sides and get involved in politics," I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "Yet here we are."
"I don't really see how we should have not gotten involved," Rori replies. She tenderly cups my face in her hands, stroking her thumbs across my cheeks. "We need the dwarves but they aren't able to decide unless they have a king. So if we don't play kingmakers, we don't get their army and they bash their own heads in while the archdemon destroys Ferelden."
"I just wish, they let me fight," I grumble. But they won't. Whoever Rori is fighting for wants the leader of the Grey Wardens in his team - plus they all get totally excited about Rori because of the way she looks. Actually being defeated by a little ginger that looks like she couldn't handle the blades she's carrying is far more dishonouring than being beaten up by a broadshouldered - and ruggedly handsome - 6 ft ex-templar.
"I know," she whispers and tiptoes to brush her lips against mine. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
That's what she probably has to tell herself. For me it will still be torture to be forced to watch her. I hug her to me, deepening the kiss, my tongue stroking hers, my heart beating in the same rhythm as hers. I don't want to let her go but I have to. Strange how much more concerned I am when I can't be with her. This shouldn't be any more dangerous than the fights we've been in before.
"You two make me sick," Morrigan snorts next to us, breaking my chain of thoughts, while Dagna squeals in delight, whispering to Leliana loud enough for everybody to hear how cute we are.
For Rori it's time to enter the fighting pit while the rest of us takes their seats amongst the assembled audience. Dwarven Provings are obviously big time public entertainment. There's whole families there with their kids and some of them have their favourite fighters and teams. There's fan helmets, fan armours, I almost get bashed my head in by a dwarven kid with his fan axe. Ale is sold and snacks, mostly something they call Hot Nug, a nug-meat sausage in a soft white bun with mustard and some tomato sauce, fried and dried onions and pickled gherkins.
The crowd makes an awful noise with drums, bagpipes, horns or just by shouting and it's not any cleaner here than in the tavern. The seats are sticky, the floor is sticky, the dwarves are mostly drunk and their fan songs aren't any prettier than their drunken tavern singing. Probably because it's drunken, too.
Morrigan pulls a face and tries to wipe her seat next to me clean before she slumps down. The sour look on her face and the way she chews at her lip are a hint for her to begin to talk anytime soon. Today is not my lucky day. "You... do not truly think I look as my mother does, do you?" she finally blurts out, pressing her nose testingly again.
"Have you really been thinking about that all this time?" I almost feel sorry for her. She sounds... feeble.
"I am simply curious." And there all feebleness is gone. Too bad. She's nicer when she's not herself.
"And not insecure in the slightest, I'm sure." I chuckle. Now, this is great, isn't it? The ice princess does have a weak spot. And she's quite vain.
"I think I look nothing like her." Morrigan says defiantly, sounding like a three year old.
"I don't know. Give it a few hundred years and it'll be a spot-on match," I tease while I try to ignore the dwarf that is showering me from behind with ale whenever he jumps from his seat and shouts at the fighters.
"I said that I look nothing like her!" she spits in my face like a venomous viper.
Whoa. I am applying for frog-time if I don't watch out. "All right. Got it. Totally different. I see that now."
It's Rori's turn now. She walks into the pit hesitantly first, then straightening she holds her head up high and her stride becomes more confident. She still has no warrior stance but moves gracefully like a dancer with her hips swaying with every step. Her leather armour clings to her like a second skin, showing of her curves. And she doesn't wear her helmet - I am so going to spank her for that! -, her curly crimson hair's only held back by a simple hairband.
I really shouldn't be surprised she's greeted by wolf whistles that soon turn into a chorus of leering drunken dwarves shouting: "Undress! Undress!"
Ha! You can shout all you want. She'll undress for me alone. I have to admit, I'd not have thought other men lusting after my woman could prove to be such an enormous boost for my manliness. Especially since I know there's not the slightest chance they'll ever get even close to her. At the same time I feel offended that they wouldn't respect her but treat her like a cheap whore.
"Ah, the highlight of underground existence, I take it." Morrigan next to me comments sarcastically. For once I have to agree with her.
The shouting and whistling stops when Rori is introduced as a Grey Warden. They might not respect her as a woman, but a Grey Warden, that's something. Even her opponents stop acting as if she was easy prey. You can see it in their stance, the way they watch her, squinting their eyes as if they could see behind the deceiving looks of the lithe woman in front of them.
"I thought their warriors, at least, would be bigger." Sten mumbles in between Hot Nug No. 5 and Hot Nug No. 6.
I am glad they aren't any bigger. They are down there with my kitten and she's not exactly big herself.
The fight begins and those dwarves for sure don't mean to play. Rori is faster and more dexterous and Zevran indeed has taught her some more nasty tricks
"Maker watch over her!" I breathe when she's pushed down by a dwarf wielding a shield. He slams his axe down right next to her head. I leap from my seat and start to climb over the balustrade. Andraste's flaming sword! I am not going to just sit here and watch her getting accidentally decapitated! A huge strong hand clamps down on my shoulder and shoves me back onto the bench.
"Have faith in her," Sten rumbles, his hand still on my shoulder.
"You are one to talk! You keep questioning every decision she makes!" And I am to watch her being picked apart? No way! I struggle to get out of Sten's grip, but he won't let go.
"I admit, understanding the human way of... thinking,,, is sometimes hard." That's as much as Sten is willing to say. In the meantime Rori has knocked out her opponent all on her own and is rewarded with thundering applause.
We all jump from our seats and stumble over each other to hurry down to the room Rori has been assigned to. Wynne mends her together as good as she can, Zevran mutters advices and I just want to hold her tight and never let go again. And of course I put that helmet onto her head.
"Wear that!" I snap at her when she attempts to take it off again. "Don't you dare and take it off. You are already in for some spanking for not wearing it in the first fight."
"Ohhhh..." she breathes, her eyes growing wide. She walks back into the pit with a rather exaggerated sway of her hips, shooting a look at me over her shoulder that gives me a whole lot more ideas what to do with her once I get to be all alone with her. Maker, I haven't made love to her for the last six days and my body is aching for her.
"Did you just say, you are going to spank her?" Zevran whispers next to my ear, making me jump. The way I blush a deeper shade of scarlet and start to stammer excuses that only get me dug in deeper, causes the elf to chuckle. "Alistair, Alistair, me dear friend, still waters run deep. I am thoroughly impressed. She likes it, doesn't she? Likes it rough and hard? Oh, I have a few things in mind you might want to try with her..."
"Andraste's flaming sword! Leave me alone, you deviant bastard!" I grumble.
Zevran bursts into laughter. "I am not the only deviant bastard around here, my friend." He pats my shoulder as we hurry back to our seats just in time to witness Rori's entry. She has taken the helmet off. I might get back to Zevran's offer and see what other things he has in store to punish that stubborn nuisance of a woman.
"Hey, that's not fair! Two against one!" I shout when Rori's new opponents are introduced. They look mean. And they fight mean.
"Twins count as one," Dagna explains. The logic is lost to me. It's just unfair.
Next to me Zevran bites his fingernails nervously, Wynne keeps hiding behind her scarf whenever it gets tough for Rori. Dagna and Leliana hug each other so tightly, they are going to squeeze poor Schmooples to nug-squish if they don't watch out. Only Sten and Shale seem unperturbed.
"What do they have to prove? They’re all soft, filthy things that are going to die." Shale murmurs, its voice rumbling loud enough to be heard over the ecited shouting of the crowd.
"It's Rori down there," I snap at the golem and it has the decency to at least look guilty.
Rori has trouble with the twins. They attack from both sides with Rori dancing out of their way whenever they close in. She's looking for a gap in their defense, knowing well, her blow has to knock out at least one of them so that she has time to deal with the other. She prances around them, then when one of the dwarves lunges forward, Rori pirouettes, coming back to chest with the dwarf. Grabbing his sword arm and pulling him forward, she uses his own momentum to run his sister through. While the dwarf is still too shocked to actually comprehend what has happened, Rori smashes her elbow in his face, kicks his feet from under him and knocks him out with the hilt of her sword.
I am so upset and nervous, wincing every time a blow hits home and Rori stumbles or falls down. When someone's hand squeezes mine, I thankfully hold on to it until the fight is over and Rori is still alive and well enough to limp out of the pit on her own. When I finally look down, I find it's Morrigan's and my hand intertwined.
With a starteld cry, we both let go of each other and wipe our hands at our pants in utter disgust.
"Don't do that again!" Morrigan hisses at me.
"What? I didn't do anything! You grabbed my hand!"
"Keep dreaming! I'd not touch you with pincers if my life depended on it."
"You'd grab anything and anybody to save your miserable life," I snap. Morrigan and all her survival of the fittest crap, she'd sell her soul and more.
"I hope this will be over soon," Rori groans, while Wynne heals her broken arm. She leans her head against my chest, trying to suppress her whimpers but fails and in the end gives in to sobbing.
That's it. I'm off to talk to the Proving Master. "I'll go in for her next time," I inform him without as much as a greeting or an introduction. He knows me anyway, not that many humans running around here.
"You can't, lad. She is the chosen fighter. It would be a great honour loss if she gave up. The allegiance you wish to forge won't happen if she is looked upon as a coward."
"But..." This is tearing me appart.
"She is doing fine." The Proving Master assures me. "The audience loves her." Yeah, instead of telling her to undress, they now shout her name, making it sound like "ROARRRRRI!".
"They just broke her arm!"
"She's your gal?" I nod and the Proving Master pats my arm sympathetically. "Tough little spitfire, that's what she is. Don't worry too much. I doubt she will be permanently damaged."
And that is supposed to make me feel any better?
Sten comes to get me. "She is a warrior," he says as if that changed everything. This is also not making me feel any better.
The next fights I watch in horror. I can hardly watch at all, covering my eyes with my hands most of the time. Zevran clings to me so tightly that he almost crawls into my lap. Morrigan's high pitched screams are for sure going to have my ears ringing for days.
"Bloody blasted asshat! That was an awful foul!" Wynne curses like a sailor, Leliana and Dagna are white as freshly bleached linen and even Sten has begun to chew his fingernails - although he keeps acting as if he doesn't and puts on a stern expression whenever he feels me watching him. Shale shouts threats at the fighters until security appears and throws it out - well, they attempt to throw it out. Shale picks one of them up and throws him into the crowd. He knocks down a quite familiar looking redhaired dwarf - just this time he is correctly dressed. Five minutes later the whole block has started a brawl and we are all thrown out. Now we can't even watch Rori anymore but are reduced to listening to the shouts from the pit and the audience's reaction. They have by now invented some choruses and chants.
Such as...
"COME ON ROARRRRRRI KICK SOME ASS, KICK SOME ASS, KICK SOME Ah-Ah-ASS!"
Yeah, I know, it's not the epitome of romantic poetry.
Roared by several hundred dwarves this certainly sounds impressive, still I pace the room, feeling awfully sick and torn. I am so relieved when in her last fight she's allowed to choose a companion and picks me. We've been training a lot together with Sten and Zevran as our coaches. The way we work together is much more than just acting as a team. Zevran calls it a choreography.
Despite that Zevran advices Rori to pick Morrigan - and then advices Morrigan to let her boobs slip out of that little bit of cloth she wears - just for the show. She bangs him over the head with her staff in reply.
Rori and I both walk into the pit and are greeted by the excited shouts and roars of the crowd. They whistle and stomp their feet. The fight is tough but Rori has won the crowd's favour and one can see how much her opponents are bothered by this. They are angry, they keep insulting us. I figure quickly that wearing a helmet is hindering my sight extremely when fighting someone hardly reaching above my waist. Seems that means, I can't spank Rori for not wearing hers - well, I'll just find another excuse. Or I just do it for fun.
Maker! Listen to me! I'm here in the middle of a fight, fantasizing about smacking my girl's ass! What in the name of the Maker has happened to me that I even consider this fun?
"Alistair! Watch out!" Rori cries and I tear my eyes away from her just in time to dodge and block an attack aimed to pierce through one of the weak spots of my armour. I really should be paying more attention.
In the end we win. Rori takes my hand, raising her arm - and mine - in a gesture of victory. Then we both bow. And then she kisses me Rori-style in front of several hundred cheering dwarves. She certainly knows how to make quite an impression. If she goes on like that we can crown her queen and forget about Harrowmont and Behlen altogether.
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In good times and in bad