Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Shameless-Tales from Serault	By : UtherSlutdragon Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 20695 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither Dragon Age nor The Last Court . But that´s okay since I don`t make any money with this anyway.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
This chapter contains dubious consent (dub-con) [and voyeurism I guess] -viewer discretion is advised.
[Brought to you by imagination and consent laws.

Because now I feel fucking dirty.]
You carefully count the coins and then hand them over to the dwarven merchant.

The Purveyor of Teas smiles as he stashes them away somewhere in his frock.

"With your leave, your Grace".

He rises.
You motion him to sit back down.

"Let`s sample some of your fine wares".

You ring a tiny silver bell and a masked servant appears.

"The green one infused with lemon?"

The Purveyor nods in agreement.

You hand the servant a lacquered wooden box. He bows and hurries away.
You talk about tea and art until the servant returns,

carrying a cast-iron teapot and two porcelain cups.

You take a sip and then ask :

"So about that Illusive Iconoclast?"

The dwarf chokes on his tea.

"Your grace?"

You smile.

"Surely you must have heard about her. I sure did.

Because of her the Glassworkers stopped working for three days.

Because of her half the crops in the marquisate have been burned.

Because of her I now have a freehold on my lands."

He shows a forced smile.

"I have heard of her, but why are you asking me, your Grace ?"

"Then you might have heard that she is currently in my dungeons.

So what should I do with her?"

"I am just a simple merchant, my Lord."

You smile.

"I would hear your opinion nonetheless."

"She surely deserves the hang-mans noose?", his mouth twists as if he’d tasted

something bitter.

"Maybe.But proving her guilt won`t be easy.And more importantly it will turn

her into a martyr. I would be playing right into her hands.

Also killing her like this is... gauche."
"Let her go then?!"

He tries hard to sound casual.

You laugh.

"I have to guaranty justice and order.

Or at least what my vassals think they are.

She is also to dangerous to run free."

The Purveyor of Tea sighs and nods.
"Keep her in your dungeons then?"

"She would still be a martyr.

A martyr waiting to escape at that."

He stares at you in silence.

A few quiet seconds pass.
He clears his throat.

"So your grace have heard."

You smile.

"I do indeed trade not just in tea but also in other herbs.

In certain ahh.. concoctions...".

You smile, baring your white teeth.

"...this oil", he produces a small vial,"will kill as surely

as concentrated crow poison would, but first inflict the victim with a horrible

rash and cough.It would as if she died of sickness.

Maybe even of your Makers judgment."

You laugh and hand him a few royals.

"With your leave, your Grace".

He rises.
You grin and motion him to sit down once more.

"Your ...oil may indeed prove useful in time.

I am however more interested in your insights into

the revolution and into her background."

He gulps.

"I am not sure how a bullheaded conservative such as myself

could have helpful insight."

You sigh.

"I have in the past...tolerated certain activities in my realm

that other rulers would consider ...unwise.

Please do not mistake my leniency for weakness or ignorance...".

You stare at him with ice cold eyes.

"...I suggest you start talking- now."
After a few moments he says:

"If I were sympathetic towards ...certain activities,

I might be torn by her case. She might be the leader

we... they would need. Or she might be insane,

her actions jeopardizing everything I... they worked for.

I would also mention her past.

She was an initiate once. A cloistered sister in the local abbey.

She left when her ideas became to ...unruly.

She claimed to hear the makers voice. To be Andraste reborn.

- With your leave, your Grace".

He rises again.

This time you allow him to leave. Andraste reborn -eh? You should be able to work with this.
You quickly scribble some notes and hand them to your servant

while you descend into the dungeons.
----------

She glares at you as you enter her cell.

A tray of food stands untouched near the door.

"Come to put me to the sword?

How can you not?

You have usurped the Maker's creation.

He made us both of the same matter, but you wear a crown and I a yoke.

The world hasn't room for us both.

For me to be content, you must be destroyed;

and for you to be safe, I must be dead."
"And who are you to question the Makers order? "
"Andraste questioned your so called order when she marched on Tevinter.

This old world will be torn asunder and I will built it build

anew from it´s ashes. If I have to die I will follow Andraste`s

example gladly."
"You are no prophetess."
"I don´t expect you to understand.

But I know what I know and I hear what I hear.

The makers voice demands that history repeat itself."
You laugh.

"I am no magister, blind to the makers light.

And the baron that caught you is not your husband.

He hasn´t even demanded your death."

You hope that your face won´t betray your lies.
She seems to think for a moment then her eyes brighten.

"I would speak to this baron."

You struggle to control your emotions for a second then you nod.

-----------
The Cheery Baron awaits you in the great hall.

He is the unruliest of your vassals, set deeply in the old ways

and fiercely opposed to the changes you try to bring to her.

Winning his favour may be instrumental if you wish to sway the Divine.
You call for wine.

"I have something for you. Something good.

The prisoner you brought to me wishes to see you."
He growls.

"I am summoned at the will of criminal peasants ?

I fail to see how this could possibly good.

I should leave right... ."
Your wolfish grin stops him.

"You shall see as soon as my other guest arrives.

More wine?"
You drink in silence until the local abbess arrives.

She is elegant as always.

"You wrote something about a lost child of mine, your Grace ?"

With another smirk you offer her wine.

Then you lead your party into the dungeons.
-------------

You send the baron into her stuffy cell.

As soon as he closes the door you kneel down

and look through the keyhole.
She awaits him in the nude, showing of her firm ass and perky tits.

Her cunt is shaven like her hair.

It seems like the Cheery Baron needs no further invitation.;

he presses her against the sandstone wall and starts moving rhythmically in her.

She whispers something into his ear.

He laughs with a deep bellow and fucks her harder.
"Your grace why are we down here?", whispers the Abbess.

You stand up and motion her to look for herself.

She takes your place.

"Oh my... .

Andraste´s mercy", she whispers, "I can´t watch this".

She rises and you take her place again.
The Iconoclast is now propped against the door.

You can only see her wet cunt and his balls slapping against it.

But you can hear her moan through the door.

You think about about barging in, claiming her cunt or mouth for yourself,

fuck her raw and fill her with your seed.

Your rock-hard cock presses against the fabric of your trousers,

begging to be freed.
You stand up.

If the Elegant Abbess noticed your erection she doesn´t mention it.

"Could you fetch me my notes from my chambers?", you whisper, your voice hoarse.

She nods and bows.

As soon as she is out of sight you mutter a curse and whip out your dick.

You stroke it slowly at first but as soon as you look through the hole again

your fingers are feverishly polishing your shaft.

She is on her knees now.

Her back is facing the door.

Cum is dripping from her stretched ass and flowing down her legs.

The Baron is standing in front of her, facing the door.

He smacks his flaccid cock against the side of her head.
He smacks her until it is hard again.

Then he buries it deep in her throat.

"Ahhh young fucking peasant slut take it.Yeah. Choke on it, bitch."

He jerks his member from her throat and slaps it against her face again,

smearing it with spit and precum.
As he jams his cock back into her throat,

you spill your seed on a silken handkerchief.
You stand up and quickly clean yourself as thoroughly as you can.

"I couldn`t find your notes, my Lord."

The Abbess appears at the end of the hall way.

"Erh nevermind them. Let´s just finish this."

You open the cell door and allow the Abbess to enter first.
The baron stands at the end of the cell, fully dressed and laughing deeply.
The Abbess seems even more elegant in her crisp robes and straight posture

when compared to the initiate cowering on the floor naked,

smeared with spit and cum and grime.
"I once again ask you to put this peasant wench to the sword."

The Baron says laughing.
The Abbess speaks up:

"This won´t be necessary", and then she addresses the initiate:

"Wicked child do you see now where your path has led you?

You are not the bride of the maker.

And now look at you broken and covered in filth.

Only the maker can make you whole now.

Do you have enough humility left to let him help you?"
The Iconoclast kneels her head hanging and murmurs something.

Maybe a prayer.
Then she starts laughing.
"Oh well played your grace.

And you won´t even use your sword to end my suffering.

Very well- I shall go and burn on my pyre ´til I die."
They depart. You laugh.
I vowed that I would destroy her and yet I am Maker-blessed or something. You really should read the Dissonant Verses again.
To be continued in Chapter 7 : King...
Wherein other powers will come into play.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shameless-Tales from Serault