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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
- 53
- 54
- 55
@Myron: *beams* Thank you very much. I am so glad you like the story. Reviews like yours totally make my day. And yes,I care a lot about this story. As for the lady pirate... I honestly haven't decided yet. It's possible but if it happens then certainly not like in the game where you kinda know Isabela for five minutes and your Warden goes: Hey, lets have sex on your ship and drag Alistair along! That would be pretty much out of character considering Rori is rather unexperienced. But I have a scene in mind... well, you will see. ;)
@Erusel: *squee!* Thanks so much! So glad you like the story. And OMG! You don't happen to have these drawings somewhere I could see them like deviantart or phorobucket... or... or could you just email me? Please? *puppy-dog-eyes* I so would love to see them! I wish I could draw but I don't manage more than stick figures.
Anyway, thanks to everybody reading and enjoying this story.
Chapter 54
Standing with my back against the door, I still clutch my manhood, staring stupidly at my equally flustered and shocked girl. Boy, I just beat my meat right in front of her! She watched me doing it, just like I watched her. It was so... so... the way she played with her breasts... wow... WOW!
Rori licks her quivering lips. Her eyes dark with desire, she makes several attempts to speak but fails due to her ragged breathing and uttermost embarrassement. When she finally manages, she cannot even look at me, her words are hardly audible, the whisper husky. „Fuck me!“
„What?!“
A shudder runs through her as she forces herself to look at me. Her pupils are dilated, her lips moist and her cheeks flushed. Maker's Breath, she's beautiful. „Fuck me!“ she breathes, her voice a feral purr.
Oh merciful Andraste!
Whoa! This is... dirty!
Dirrrrty!
Wynne would so wash her mouth with soap, Rori would spit foam bubbles for three days in a row.
Andraste's flaming sword! The mere sound of her voice makes my manhood twitch. That low animalistic growl rumbling in my chest, I so cannot believe that's me. My body moves on its own accord. It's certainly not me ordering it to stalk her like a predator. I'm usually all awkwardness but certainly not that smooth, dangerous grace. The man in the mirror has absolutely no resemblance with me although he wears my face. He's so damn sexy... I am so damn sexy... and then I wiggle my eyebrows at my own reflection and hello! There's good old Alistair again...
Next thing I stumble over one of Rori's boots - Blasted curses of a thousand misfortunes! Why does she always have to leave those lying around where one just has to trip over them! - and tumble onto the bed, accidentally knocking my head against Rori's nose, causing bright red blood to spurt from it.
„Oh blast! I'm so sorry, kitten!“
A sharp knock at the door makes us both jump. Even more so when said door is thrust open right afterwards and in storms Cullen in full plate armour, all agitated and torn and so utterly tormented he's close to tears.
„Alistair...,“ he gasps. „Your... your Highness... I... I need your help... now... oh Maker!... please don't let it be too late!... We have to hurry!“ That's when he finally realizes what his eyes make him see, namely Rori naked but for her panties with her nose bleeding heavily and I naked but for my pants and both of us in bed together. „What in the name of the Maker are you doing there?“
Shock has us frozen to the spot, so Rori's reaction is time-delayed. You can totally see it dawn on her slowly as she gawks at Cullen, that realization that he is here when he shouldn't be and she is there totally not wearing anything to decently cover her. With a startled squeak, she pulls the blanket all over her head.
„What in the name of the Maker are you doing here?“ she wails from beneath the blanket.
I don't have time for being mortified. I just desperatedly, hurriedly try to stuff everything back into my pants that is currently poking out of them rather stiffly.
„Did you hit her?“ Whatever had Cullen so upset that he came running to me in the middle of the night, he's knight and gentleman enough to forget about it instantly when there is a damsel in distress.
„No!“ Rori answers that question for me, her voice muffled by the blanket, when all I manage is a completely incomprehendible stammered attempt of an explanation. „He's just a lummox!“
„I... I shouldn't have come here,“ Cullen mumbles, reduced once more to the mess of a man he was when storming through the door. „I shouldn't... there's nothing you can do anyway... nothing you should do... it's wrong... I have to accept... Oh Maker, give me the strength to do what is right...“ He sways, almost stumbles over the very same boot that sent me falling before, as he turns on his heels and storms out of the room as abruptly as he entered it.
„Do you think we should go after him?“ Rori asks, peeking out from under the blanket.
I'm already on my way – after a last check that everything that has to be inside of my pants is exactly there and nowhere else.
„Cullen!“ I call after him as I rush around the corner and almost collide with the templar. He has chosen the very middle of the corridor to fall to his knees, his hands folded tightly for a feverish prayer, his voice cracked. He is so trying to not break into tears.
I've already seen him as tormented before when his mind was intruded and twisted by blood mages. He's a complete wreck and I am completely lost as what to do or say.
Boy, am I glad when Rori shows up, wearing the grey pullover Wynne knitted for me. For her it's more a dress than a pullover and again my clothes look better on her than they do on me. She presses my shirt to her bleeding nose, shrugging apologetically when I frown at her.
„Cullen?“ she says softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. She makes him jump and swat at her hand. He backs away, burying his face in his hands.
"Don't make this any harder, I beg you," the templar mumbles with his shoulders slumped. With every word he retreats one more step until he just turns and runs away, forcing us to chase after him.
It's not as if he is trying to shake us off but he knows his way around and we don't. Plus Rori's bleeding nose is slowing us down. In the end we lose him and are stranded somewhere in the tower in the middle of the night.
“Blast! Where did he go?”
We wander around the tower for some time but no sign of Cullen.
“Did you hear that?” Rori suddenly stops, tilting her head to one side to listen closely. She even holds her breath and I follow her example. There's a distant sound, almost too faint to hear.
“There's someone crying.” I turn into the direction of the noise, Rori following behind. The noise leads us back to Cullen and Carroll, both leading a female mage with long dark hair and a haunted look in her brown eyes between them. She's crying so hard, she can't even walk properly, getting dragged along by the templars.
Rori beckons me to stay hidden and we crouch behind one of the many statues to watch the templars and the mage.
“Shut up, bitch,” Carroll snaps, yanking hard enough at her arm to make her stumble. With her hands bound behind her back she'd have fallen if not for Cullen to catch her.
“Carroll!” he hisses, causing the other templar to sulk. “Don't be cruel.”
“What? She'll be tranquil in a while. Nothing will matter to her anymore then.” Carroll sneers. “Serves her right for helping that bastard Jowan escape.”
“Sbe never used blood magic herself,” Cullen murmurs.
“We do not know. Just because we haven't seen her using it, doesn't mean she doesn't know how to do it. She's been close to Jowan. Anything is possible,”
They move on, practically carrying the mage hanging between them. Her legs aren't supporting her anymore. She's trembling so heavily, her whole body is visibly shaking.
“Damn,” Carroll suddenly exclaims, fumbling around at his belt to find something missing. “I left the keys back in the dungeon. I'll be right back!”
Before Cullen can stop him, Carroll runs off to fetch the keys, leaving his fellow templar alone with the desperate woman. Still holding on to her arm, he suddenly looks awfully lost in a situation that he should be used to, that he should be able to master. He's not a mere recruit anymore. He must have witnessed his share of Rites by now.
"Cullen," the woman breathes once Carroll is gone and the templar visibly crumbles at the sound of her voice. His eyes squeezed shut, the trembling lips a thin line, Cullen struggles to regain composure. He half turns to the woman, repeating his name like a chant, then, as if yanked back, turns away and tightens his grip on her as he drags her with him. The woman's sobs are made of pure anguish.
Rori and I are caught in the middle of something impossible, something unthinkable transpiring around us. We still stand and stare slack-jawed when the templar and the woman have passed by.
“Where does he take her?” Rori asks as we once more hurry after Cullen.
“The Harrowing Chamber.” And that is at the very top of the tower. Means we run up all the stairs we ran down before. I was hoping for some exertions tonight but running up and down staircases is nothing I had on my mind.
“They are going to make her tranquil! How can he let that happen?”
“He's a templar. It's part of his job,” I point out.
“But he loves her!” Rori cries out.
I stop and grab her by her shoulders, forcing her to face me. “Don't say this out loud, Rori. You'll get him into more trouble than you can even imagine, if anybody as much as suspects he could be biased in his actions because of his feelings for her.”
“But...”
“Not a single word to nobody!”
When we pant up the last staircase, we find Cullen in the very spot where we first met him when he was held captive by Uldred and his lot. He's completely still like a statue, his head hung low, he is the incarnation of hopelessness.
“Cullen, where's the woman?” Rori pants, leaning against a shelf for support. Her nose has started bleeding again.
“It's too late,” Cullen murmurs soundlessly after Rori has repeated her question twice.
"Cullen," Rori says intently, coming to stand so close to him that he has to face her. He does so reluctantly, probably knowing her too well by now as to expect her to let him walk away just like that. "There's a way to save her... well, kind of saving her... although it's unpleasant... more than that... but, at least it would give her a chance to survive and stay herself."
At least her agitation kicks him out of his stupor. "You're talking about recruiting her for the Grey Wardens." Cullen rubs the back of his neck and begins to pace the corridor like a trapped animal. "I would lie if I said I hadn't thought about this," he confesses and it sounds as if he almost chokes on the words. "I was even tempted to ask you to recruit her... I came to you to beg you to recruit her..." He snorts out a bitter laughter. "Maker, listen to me! I shouldn't even consider this! I shouldn't have let this happen at all! I should have controlled myself."
"Cullen, lets not talk about the things you should have done but about the things you can do."
“There is nothing I can do! Nothing you can do!” he snaps. Punching his fist repeatedly against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, Cullen groans: "I wasn't strong enough. I prayed to the Maker to help me resist but I lost." Three deep breaths later, he manages to straighten again. It's incredible how he over and over can regain control over himself when only just before he was a complete mess.
The difference between Cullen and Rori clearly is that he has learnt that he has to accept the things he cannot change, while she always will try to change the things she cannot accept.
So instead of wasting more time with the templar, Rori just runs up the last flight of stairs that lead to the Harrowing Chamber and before either Cullen or I, following on her heels, can stop her, bursts through the door.
Knight-Commander Greagoir, First Enchanter Irving and the other assembled templars turn to her, staring as if she was a demon having materialized out of nothing. The female mage has been fixed to a chair with iron bonds around her wirsts and ankles, her waist, chest, neck and forehead. There's absolutely no way she can move as much as an inch. The instruments used for the Rite of Tranquility lie on a metallic table next to the creepy chair.
“Stop!” Rori cries, crossing the distance between her and the witnesses of the Rite. “I use the Right of Conscription on... that woman... mage... whatever her name is.”
Knight-Commander Greagoir that very moment looks as if he gladly made Rori tranquil just to get rid of that nuisance. “What? You don't even know who she is!”
“That doesn't matter, does it?” Rori says, sounding surprisingly calm.
"With due respect to you and your cause, but I do not believe you quite know what you are doing," Greagoir rumbles, trying hard to ignore the fact that Rori is wearing nothing more than a far too big pullover smeared with blood and boots while I appear totally shirtless.
“I do what I feel is right,” Rori says softly.
The Knight-Commander has clearly been prepared for a fight, regarding her as a obstreperous teenager that needs to be taught a lesson. The gentleness of her tone catches him by surprise and melts his resistance away.
Rori may be small, she may be young and inexperienced, she may not be properly dressed – still, there's something about her, the way she holds herself, the quality of her voice, her honesty, her bravery – it makes her outstanding.
She endures Greagoir's scrutiny without faltering, never avoiding his gaze, also never challenging him. She doesn't plead as she is no beggar. She doesn't command as she is not his superior. Greagoir knows he just can deny her request and there's nothing she could do about it. But the way she addresses him, makes him consider.
“Very well,” Greagoir finally sighs. “I take it you want her to be stored also under the same conditions as Jowan?” He beckons the templars to free the mage from the chair and lead her back to her cell. The woman is so confused, she's beyond realizing what is happening around her.
“I think we all should go to bed now,” Irving says tiredly once the mage is gone. “I am clearly too old for that much excitement,” he mutters as he scuffles out of the Harrowing Chamber. “And oh these blasted stairs!”
In the end it's only Rori, Cullen and I left behind. The templar shifts his weight uncomfortably, rubbing his neck nervously. “I... I guess, I should thank you,” he mumbles, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I'm not entirely sure I did her or you a favour,” Rori sighs,
“You did,” Cullen assures her as he leads us both out of the Harrowing Chamber.
“Cullen?” Rori says after some time of silence as we descend to our sleeping quarters.
“Hm?”
“Who did I actually recruit?”
That question makes him laugh. I cannot remember I've ever heard him laugh before. “Her name is Solona Amell.”
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- 55
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In good times and in bad