Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

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
- 61
- 62
- 63
The starlit sky stretches high above us. I have never seen anything as beautiful and magnificent before as this silken black, sparkling canopy. I'm in awe at how big and vast the world suddenly is, and only now, when I can breathe freely again, do I realize the suffocating effect the underground realm had on me. It felt like... being buried alive.
We were invited to stay after Rori presented Caridin's crown to the new king, but as it turned out rather unpleasant and bloody, we decided we would much rather leave for the surface. Orzammar's army and the Legion of the Dead will join our fight against the archdemon, the new king and the House of Learning have been informed of the broodmothers... there's nothing left to do for us in the dwarven city.
We're not exactly King Bhelen's best friends anyway, not after we first worked for Harrowmont, switched to work for him and then probably changed our minds a few more times... I got lost somewhere in between but Leliana claims she always knew what we were doing. Anyway, Bhelen isn't too fond of us, but I guess that's alright because the feeling is mutual.
Next to me, Rori inhales the cold winter air deeply, her face raised towards the sky. Her eyes sparkle as beautifully as the stars and she smiles in awe, overwhelmed by the beauteousness of this frosty winter night. Then she laughs, a clear ringing and joyous sound bubbling out of her mouth. Picking up a handful of snow, she pirouettes and throws the flakes into the air so that they come falling down on her, glittering silverish in the cool moonlight. Next she pounces me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, before she drags me along down the snowcovered stairs that lead to the makeshift town outside the gates of Orzammar. She dances me around, we run and laugh, Barkley following at our heels, barking happily. Rori squeals in delight, enraptured by this magic wonderland... until people start opening their windows and shout at us to shut the fuck up! Some even empty their chamberpot onto the street - and only miss us by inches.
Suddenly the surface air isn't that fresh anymore and Shale finds herself threatened by another danger from above. Leliana tries to soothe the golem's worries and stop her from breaking down doors to crush some heads all the way to the inn where we left the horses.
"You know, Shale, we could get you an umbrella," the bard suggests helpfully. "Actually that has been a quite common fashion in Val Royeaux for some time. They come in different shapes and colours with ribbons or pearls or embroidery... for your purpose I'd suggest something simple - but still fashionable."
"That sounds like... a good idea." Shale carefully sidesteps a brown and yellow puddle in the snow. "But...then I would still be walking through the mess produced by those squishy flesh-creatures." Pause. "The sister has interesting footwear."
"Oh? You... like shoes, do you?" Leliana first beams broadly at the golem, then down at her high-heeled dark purple hunting boots. I very much doubt they are made for hunting. Unless of course you want to stab the prey with the heel. That could work.
Here's a piece of advice: Never, I mean it, never talk to Leliana about shoes unless you a) have problems falling asleep or b) have an insatiable proclivity for shoes. You will learn that shoes aren't simply shoes and a whole lot more rather unimportant things you never wanted to know. Leliana is really cute. Sometimes. Other times she's also quite scary. Anyway, I can call myself lucky that Rori thinks that boots are made for walking.
"It would protect my feet from having to wade through the excrement," Shale ponders. "Also my mass is considerable. Walking as silently as the sister does, it's impossible for me. Some cushioning on my feet would be ideal, but I doubt such footwear could be made."
"Hmm." Leliana rubs her nose while she has a closer look at Shale's feet. "I could see some nice, thick sandals being made. With very tick leather straps. What do you think, Rori-sweetheart?"
"We still got some drakeskin left," Rori suggests. "It's very robust."
"Oh yes, that could be done!" Leliana giddily claps her hands. "Perhaps we could find some cobbler who could give it a try!"
"What about Wade?" Rori says enthusiastically. "He's a smith but he sure would love to work with drakeskin. He made my boots. Why not make sandals for a golem?"
"Herren is going to kill you," I mutter. Whilst Herren welcomed us as potential customers the first time we stumbled into the store, he was less than pleased when we appeared there again. And again. And again. Wade, he loves us. He claims Rori and Leliana are the only ones to see he has the manifold soul of an artist. "He'll get a ballista installed at the roof of the store just for you. He'll have a trap door hidden at the entrance, you step on it and... CLAP!... you fall down into an iron spiked pitch..."
"You have a rather violent imagination," Rori laughs.
"Yeah, you keep laughing as long as you still got a chance. I'm just being realistic. But go ahead, just walk into Wade's Emporium again with another of your individual orders and see what happens."
"What colour would you want?" Leliana doesn't feel discouraged by the mentioning of Herren and his annihilating, everlasting wrath.
"Surely the colour is unimportant," Shale snorts. One would think so, right? I did think so, too. Until I learnt that a warm brown with a reddish touch, chestnut, not cherry, goes well with my strawberry blonde hair. Maker, I didn't even know there was something as strawberry blonde until Leliana pointed it out to me.
"In fact, the colour is very important," Leliana corrects the golem. "That, and picking a shape that makes your ankles look slender... and you could use some help there, I fear."
"I... have thick ankles?" Shale sounds shocked. She lifts one huge, thick foot off the ground, and insecurely examines her ankles.
Leliana quickly pets her arm. "It's all right. I don't like my thighs. What's important is working with what you have. Look at Rori. She has a rather curvy body, her hourglass figure calls for a different kind of dress than Morrigan's slim frame. Well, you get the idea."
"Hmm. Very well." Shale thinks about her options for a while. "I wish my shoes to be red."
"Ooh! Bold choice! We'll have to remember that! You should have your umbrella in the same colour. You are going to look gorgeous!"
While Shale discusses the benefits of footwear with the bard, Oghren is having a difficult time getting adjusted to his new surroundings. He's ducking his head, clinging to his flask as if his life depended on it. It's his first time ever on the surface. Whilst for the rest of us it's like being set free after years of imprisonment in a pitch black dungeon, for Oghren it has to be quite a shock. He's utterly relieved when we're finally inside the inn.
Rori and I have no intention to stay inside. Not when the night is still young, not when we've been trapped underground for over a month. I get the mulled wine and the cheese, she fetches the furs and blankets. There's a hayloft above the stables with a huge opening that allows us to watch the sky. It's freezing cold but cuddled against each other and wrapped in thick furs it's still much better than being locked inside again. Give us a few days on the road with the icy wind whipping at us mercilessly and the frost biting our skin, and a few nights in our tents, sleeping on the frozen ground, and a few mornings breaking the thick ice of a creek to get to the cold, cold water or just rubbing clean with the snow - and we'll very, very quickly change our minds.
For now it's just a perfectly beautiful moment. The pale light of the moon kisses the snow covered mountain tops and the stars are like diamond droplets on a canopy of black velvet. Sounds kitschy? I'm in a kitschy mood, you know. I feel a bit aloof, dizzy, like floating around in my own little bubble. It could be the thin air that high up in the mountains. It could be Rori's fault, around her I have trouble thinking straight. All I can do is grin foolishly and pinch myself to make sure this isn't a dream. Yes, I do know what Morrigan would say! I'm telling you, I'm not stupid... Not all the time.
I hold my woman in my arms as I watch that beautiful night sky. Her soft curls tickle the side of my face, her kisses taste of sweet mulled wine and her skin is hot and smooth against mine when I lay her down in the hay to make love to her. Her moans and gasps form small white clouds when leaving her mouth, mingling with my hot breath made visible in the cold of the night.
It's all sweet and tender and cuddly canoodling at its best. Both of us seek as much body contact as possible. It's just too cold for experimental scrambling about. Rori and I together, it's as breathtakingly beautiful as this night.
"Do you think you made the right choice?" I ask her when she lies in my arms, nuzzling my neck and smiling against my skin. It has begun to snow, soft white flakes float slowly to the ground.
"Only time will tell," Rori sighs, thoughtfully drawing patterns on my chest with her index finger. She doesn't even notice she's doing it. "It was not an easy decision. None of the candidates was perfect. Harrowmont, he was like an old grandpa. If I had believed him to be capable of ruling a nation, he'd have been my choice. But he seemed too weak. Too indecisive. He'd have hidden behind traditions. I wish, I could have saved him, though. I didn't want him to die."
"It wasn't your fault, kitten. There was nothing you could have done about that. Bhelen had secured it that Harrowmont and his followers wouldn't reach for the throne once more. It could have been the only way to prevent a civil war." Now thinking about that... Should I be worried? I should, shouldn't I? Oh, blast it!
"Yes, Bhelen... well, Bhelen is an asshole," Rori puts it in a nutshell. "But he has the strength to do something... I'm not sure if he will do the right things. But he for sure will do something. He can turn out to become a great reformist... or a horrible tyrant. Just like with Branka, this is only a thin line. I do hope he will not cross it. For now I do believe, King Bhelen to be the better choice when it comes to fighting the archdemon and the darkspawn in general. He will also be more open to any trade or alliances with Ferelden... which will be good for the future king."
"Or queen. Don't forget about Anora."
Rori snorts in reply.
"I take it you can't stand her," I laugh. I don't know Anora personally. The people loved her and Cailan. I can't believe this has changed much. Loghain, he's not the biggest problem for Eamon when he really plans to make me king. Anora has proven to be a good queen. I feel a bit like stealing from her, like taking what does rightfully belong to her and not to me. What do I know about being king?
"Mama got along quite well with her," Rori mutters compunctiously. "I always thought her to be... quite a bitch. Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'm just mean. She scared me, just like her father." She lies back, staring at the dark ceiling as she pouts defiantly, just like a little girl. "She was always oh so very nice and oh so very polite when we met... but... next to her I always felt like a complete failure. She's so... perfect. Ladylike, aloof, cold. She'd never show up for dinner with mud covered boots and leaves entangled in her hair." Sighing she pulls a stray of hay from her curls. "Or hay."
"That doesn't make her a bad leader, Rori."
"I know!" she wails. "Let us not talk about her now, okay?"
The freezing cold wakes me. My beloved fellow Warden has stolen all the furs and blankets and wrapped herself up in them, leaving me shivering in the cold of the night. Only the top of her head is visible, a mess of tousled red curls. If I didn't love her so much... and if she wasn't as incredibly cute as she is... and if I wasn't too well behaved anyway... and if all this gentleman upbringing didn't forbid it... I'd so dump her in the snow. Instead I coax my way back under the furs, snuggling to her to get warm again.
The sky is slowly turning grey. It's close to dawn, the coldest part of the night. I cannot go back to sleep anymore - and I have no intention to do so anyway. Instead I decide to do something suicidal: I wake Rori. She is so not a morning person. I don't even have coffee to appease her with.
"Hmph... wh-what?" she murmurs sleepily when I start nibbling at her earlobe.
"Wake up, kitten," I purr into her ear.
She groans in reply - but it's not the lustful type of groan, more the unnerved, exasperated type. "Sex really can wait until later, Alistair," Rori grunts and tries to pull the blanket over her head to escape from my caress.
Charming.
"I do not want sex!" I sulk.
Rori snorts.
"Well, I do want sex," I admit sullenly. "But not right now." Sighing I keep poking and nudging her until she hisses at me like a cat and I have to catch her wrists to stop her from drumming her small fists against my chest. "Hey! Stop baring your teeth at me, kitten!"
"You better have a good excuse for waking me before dawn," she growls, trying hard to be mad at me when I present her my best disarming boyish grin.
"I do." I coax my ginger to sit up, wrapping her in my arms with the furs around us. "The sunrise."
The sky is softly glowing, a golden hue touches the snow covered mountain tops, kissed by the first rays of sunlight. Dark purple clouds float across the sky, surrounded by a warm pink and orange halo. Dark shadows are cast away by light as the sun peeks over the side of the mountains.
"Oh..." Rori gasps, overwhelmed by the beauty of this winter dawn. It's even more beautiful as she is here with me. She smiles happily at me with sparkling eyes. "Fine, I forgive you for waking me and I'm sorry for having snapped at you."
"And for stealing the blankets?"
"For that, too." She softly kisses my lips.
"That's all?" I pout, attempting to appear all hurt and neglected. "What about the make up sex?"
Rori laughs, pulling me close for a sweet, longlasting kiss. "I knew it!" she murmurs against my lips. "Alright, lets get inside and see what can be done about that."
Now, that sounds far better to me...
Two days later the snow and the cold and the winter nights aren't that romantic anymore. But I shouldn't complain. Poor Oghren is tied to the back of Zevran's horse and clings to the saddle knob desperatedly. Next to being on horseback, he's also blindfolded. His eyes are covered by a dark scarf. He has spent his whole life underground and is not used to the sunlight. Within a few hours he was snow blind. He can call himself lucky that Wynne took good care of him as soon as she noticed he was having trouble. She says his eyes will fully recover.
"So... Antiva. Wonderful place. Full of... Antivans," Oghren attempts to make some conversation while he is completely at the elf's mercy.
"Oghren." the elf replies pleasantly in his thick accent. "If you want to bed me, you have but only to ask."
The dwarf almost jumps out of the saddle. Maker, I almost fall of my horse. So does Rori. "What!? Draw your weapon and say that again!" Oghren nervously fumbles around for his axe. Blindfolded and helpless as he is with the elf practically pressed to his back, I can't blame him for panicking. Oghren breaks out in a sweat when he realizes the... unfortunate... uhm... position he's in.
Zevran bursts into laughter until tears sting in his eyes. "I jest, my foul-smelling friend. You are only slightly more attractive to me than a slime-filled pool of swamp water."
"Better be," Oghren grunts, relaxing slightly.
"You have my oath," the elf chuckles. "You of course can't see it, my stocky little friend, but the view is quite magnificent." He beams at Rori, winks at me, rakes his eyes over Morrigan and then lets them drift towards Leliana. "You, unfortunately, are none of the attractions."
"Bloody Antivans. Why can't I ride with Morrigan instead?"
"Because Morrigan would feed your still beating heart to the dog," the witch snaps. Barkley whines and chokes, shuddering at the mere thought.
"HA! You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to, witch, you know that?" the dwarf laughs in her direction.
"T'is so?"
"Dwarves resist magic, woman. There's nothing you could do." Oghren's pretty optimistic if you ask for my opinion. I wouldn't make the mistake to think magic is the only way Morrigan can use for her defense. She's mean, she's evil and she had us kill her own mother - who probably was even meaner and more evil. Go figure.
"Nothing?" Morrigan asks sweetly. It's always dangerous when her voice gets so soft. It creeps me out, makes shivers run down my spine - the unpleasant type of shivers, those you get when entering a haunted house or meeting a giant spider face to face. "I could not, for instance, kick you in your manhood?"
"Oof." Oghren instinctly clutches said parts - and almost falls off the horse.
"Do you wish to see?"
"Not necessary" the dwarf grunts. "I'll stay with the elf."
"Well, the offer stands." Very pleased with herself, the witch smiles wickedly at the dwarf. He can call himself lucky that he can't see or he'd be running for the hills - or back to the Deep Roads.
When we arrive at Kinloch Hold - again - Carroll and Cullen welcome a group of templars, the reinforcements after most templars died during Uldred's rebellion.
"Ooh, that's huge," Oghren remarks at the sight of the tower. His eyes have indeed fully recovered and ever since he's been leering at any woman that we came across. "Hehe, I wonder how long it took to erect it." He nudges my side, giggling again. "Get it? Erect?"
"Huh? I don't know how long it took to build the tower. Maybe you can ask Irving...," I begin.
"Son, how did you ever find your way between the boss's legs without a map?" Oghren grunts.
"You know, Zevran has asked me the same," I mutter, blushing, when the dwarf keeps shaking his head at me.
"Don't say no more, she showed you, right? Good of her." He gives Rori the thumbs up. I decide it's best to act as if I didn't hear him talking at all.
"Do you ever wonder why the mages built their tower at Lake Calenhad? Do they have an aversion to practicality or something?" I ask both templars as they wait for their brothers in arms to climb onto the ferry. Carroll eyes Rori suspiciously, Cullen for the first time greets us with a smile.
"For the templars it's not that bad," Cullen grins. "We do have the lowest rate of run-away mages. Few are mad enough to swim through the lake. There's always some who try and if they are lucky we can fish them out before they drown. I think Anders is the only one who really made it to the shore."
"The rowing sucks," Carroll sulks and his expression even darkens when we ask for a passage.
"Oh, come on, Carroll, a strong templar like you." Rori smiles but she's not at her best. Carroll hasn't yet forgotten about his run in with her at my birthday - and she hasn't either.
"Y'know, I'm feeling a little peckish," Carroll complains. "Not like I could row another group across that lake." He pointedly stares at Sten who has pulled a huge tin filled to the rim with chocolate chip cookies from his backpack. The Qunari has just picked one when he notices everybody is looking at him.
"Vashedan! Here! Munch on these if you like," the Qunari sighs, utterly frustrated.
"Oh! Cookies!" Carroll exclaims happily. He doesn't even think about sharing with Cullen or anybody else.
"I'm content to part with them if it saves us from this fool." Sten doesn't look content. Not at all. Actually he looks quite sullen.
"Where did you get those?" Rori asks curiously. Usually she makes sure Sten has his share of cake and cookies. But these are none she gave him. He's far less grumpy then. Sometimes he even shares. He's already put on some weight ever since we got the horses and don't do that much walking anymore.
"There was a child -a fat slovenly thing- in the last village we passed," the Qunari explains. "I relieved him of these confections. He did not need more."
"You stole cookies from a child!?" Rori laughs after a moment of silent shock. "Sten! Such a big guy as you, scaring little children! Shame on you!"
"For his own good," Sten comments, completely unperturbed by Rori's amusement.
"Next time you relieve someone of something for their own good, please let me know. I'd like to be prepared for when the guards come to arrest us," Rori grins, shaking her head at the huge warrior. "Or you should take lessons with Leliana, she relieves people of things in a far less obvious manner..."
"You misunderstand my motive, kadan." Sten sighs when Rori just keeps grinning at him. It's hard to tell with his dark skin, but I swear he blushes...
"There's indeed more to our dear Sten than meets the eye," Leliana chimes in, beaming at him in a way that makes the Qunari frown suspiciously.
"What are you talking about, woman?" the Qunari growls.
"I saw what you were doing back there." Leliana smirks.
"Oh?" Sten already squirms a bit as everybody - absolutely everybody - is eavesdropping. We all act as if we aren't - well, not Oghren, he's staring bluntly - but the rest of us... even Cullen.
"Don't play innocent with me." Leliana utterly enjoys teasing Sten.
"What are you talking about?" Sten doesn't enjoy this, neither utterly nor in any other way. But the rest of us do. I for sure do. Hey, for once there's someone else getting picked on!
"You were picking flowers!" Leliana declares triumphantly. "I saw you entering the greenhouse behind the Spoiled Princess and there you were picking flowers!"
Sten: Shocked silence. Sten's companions: Muffled giggles. "No, I wasn't." Ah, denial. Someone should tell Sten that really won't work with the bard. Or just let him find out himself.
"You were!"
Sten: Abashed silence. Sten's companions: Choked laughter. "They were medicinal."
"Ahhh, so that's why you made a floral wreath of them and gave them to that little refugee girl," Leliana exclaims.
Sten: Defeated silence. Sten's companions: Roaring laughter.
"You're a big softie!" Leliana teases mercilessly.
"We will never speak of this again," Sten mutters, glaring at us gloomily.
"Softie!"
This is certainly one of the biggest face-palm-moments ever for Sten. I feel with him. Honestly, I do. I really know how he feels. Now excuse me, I'm too busy laughing.
- 61
- 62
- 63
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

In good times and in bad