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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
- 78
- 79
- 80
You all know, there's fan art for this story. And the two fantastic artists Erusel and Notevensorry are absolutely fabulous. I am quite sure you love their awesome art as much as I do. So feel free to use the review option for this story to tell them how much you like their stuff. I mean it. Review for them. They do deserve some appreciation and praise.
In case you haven't yet clicked their art, here's a collection of their work:

Notevensorry:
Rori on her first night with Alistair
http://noimnotevensorry.tumblr.com/image/110669927343

Alistair and Rori
https://40.media.tumblr.com/3527e4b618e88fc60356f58e8b340586/tumblr_nkjlnvsVTN1u5oyqao1_540.jpg

Alistair and Rori - doggy-style
http://41.media.tumblr.com/e0d6756a9b4ba923f045353da5f4891d/tumblr_nkyy9xTt2c1uomlcxo1_1280.jpg

Alistair in the mirror
http://40.media.tumblr.com/7b51e4bf08dcf059e13daff9d9f0d818/tumblr_nloxxuxbOT1uomlcxo1_1280.jpg

Alistair in the bathtub
http://noimnotevensorry.tumblr.com/image/115326035293

Alistair 5000 hits give-away:
http://41.media.tumblr.com/39384c62f870a53f05aab8f020a15f81/tumblr_nmv0yrgmzL1u5oyqao1_1280.png .

Erusel:
http://onehundred-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/110527524711/sketch-dump-ive-been-reading-such-a-wonderful

NEW (absolutely amazingly beautiful) ART by fabulous Erusel:
Starkers in Brecilian Forest
http://onehundred-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/119836159661/illustration-inspired-in-pookathefluffycats

Notes:

So... I wanted to write about the arrival in Denerim, but I didn't. This chapter is absolutely Kamille's fault. Her comment about a certain person in a certain attire has led to all this. And then I mentioned it to Notevensorry and she made a first draft of a sketch... and, oh, well... you'll see.
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Whenever writing Angus Mac Eanraig, I so imagine him like a mix of Merida's dad Fergus (Disney's Brave) and Hiccups dad Stoick (How to train your dragon).

Chapter Text
Standing at the railing - as far away as possible from Morrigan who looks as if she's about to follow Rori's example -, I watch Shale fending off sea gulls with her umbrella. Wynne is sharing a drink with some of the sailors. According to the look on Angus' face, Sten is giving him one hundred reasons why Qunari ships are better than Fereldan nutshells.
Oghren has made the mistake to start a conversation with Leliana about ships and the sea. Okay, actually he said something like: "Aye, hehe, you, wet frocks, I, no pants involved. Whatcha think?" Leliana smiled her sweetest smile, Oghren wiggled his eyebrows... and then she said something like: "That reminds me of a story..." The way the dwarf clutches his axe and ogles the water suspiciously, he doesn't enjoy all these tales about sea monsters as much as the bard.
Rori has only recently woken from yet another nap and has now taken seat on a heap of hausers and, sharing with Barkley, devours her third bowl of stew - much to her own and anybody else's surprise.
Zevran next to her has pulled a small wooden box from his backpack and cleans the contents thoroughly, much like I would tend my weapons. While he polishes one of several strangely shaped objects made of gold - a cone with something like a knob at the broad end - Rori curiously picks up one of the other items in the case. It looks as if a leather whip and a feather duster had a baby. She waves it around testingly, then begins to tease me by slapping my hindquarters.
"Hey!" I laugh as she slaps both my hands when I try to grab her weapon. "Stop being silly!" Well, she does not stop - at least not until the elf chuckles and shakes his head in amusement.
"What's so funny?" Rori asks suspiciously, poking Zevran with the feather-duster thing.
"Do you know what that is, oh my sweet Fereldan rose?" the elf coos, not even bothering to hide his smirk.
"Something... dirty?" Rori guesses, now staring at the dubious feather-duster ominously.
"It's a flogger," Zevran explains, placing the smallest of the golden objects back into the box to move on to polishing the next bigger one.
"Uhm..." Rori chews at her lips thoughtfully for a moment. I mouth a 'Don't!' at her, but she ignores me. "What do you use it for?"
"Oh, you got it quite right, my beautiful Fereldan ingenue."
"Oh!" If she didn't blush so beautifully I could be mad at her for having us both tumble yet into another horribly mortifying moment. She's all flustered, not really knowing what to do with that... thing... and her first idea is to hand it to me! I give it back to her at once, and she returns it to me and I practically throw it at her... and finally she passes it to Zevran.
"You can keep it." The elf smiles amiably and Rori again is loaded with the damned device. "You seemed to have quite some fun with it." He winks at both of us and despite our faces already glowing, we manage an even darker shade of pink.
"Uhm, th-thank you, but no, thanks," Rori stammers, trying very unsuccessfully to shove the blasted feather-duster at the elf... then very quickly hides it behind her back when her uncle passes by. Rori switches on a grin so wide and fake, she also could hold up a sign saying 'Guilty!'.
"Ah, Rori, my lovely Fereldan rose," the elf goes on, seemingly oblivious to the stern glares the bann shoots him. "We all know you enjoy some decent spanking every now and then..."
"ZEV!" Rori squeaks, tackling the elf to clap both her hands over his mouth. "Shush! Uncle Angus is... err... a little bit old-fashioned." She waves at her uncle when he turns at the ruckus behind him and frowns at the three of us. I wave, too, and so does Zev. The bann scowls and shakes his head, then seeks out Eamon. Certainly to ask him if he really believes it to be a bright idea to put me on the throne.
"Oh?" The elf grins wickedly.
"Oh?" My own grin is a bit forced and rather worried.
"He almost had Papa keelhauled when he caught him kissing my mother before they were even engaged," Rori whispers.
"And you forgot to mention that because...?" I hiss. The outlook of getting keelhauled is nothing to brighten my mood. Ain't I lucky that I am a shy guy and usually refrain from kissing Rori in public? Very much unlike Rori herself who pounces me wherever and whenever she just feels like it.
"In the end he only challenged him for a duel." Rori soothingly pats my arm. "Papa won. He always joked, Angus probably would have dropped him into the deep sea with a rock strapped to his feet before he let him marry his little sister, if he hadn't proven himself worthy in that fight."
"Okay... and you forgot to mention that because...?"
"Uhm... you know, the Blight and the archdemon and Wynne being an abomination and..." Rori yawns, grins sheepishly and shrugs.
"It's only three more days until we reach Denerim," Zevran comforts me. "You will manage to behave."
"Hey! I... err... that's not... I always behave!"
"You are right, my dear friend, I am talking to the wrong person." The elf amiably wraps his arm around Rori's shoulder. "Three days. You can do it. I do believe in you."
"You act as if I got nothing else on my mind," Rori pouts, snatching the flogger from the elf when he points it at her.
"Pup, can I have a word with you... what's that?" Uncle Angus has returned, announced by the tock-tock of his peg leg on the wooden deck, and with some interest takes Zevran's dirty toy from his niece.
"That's a flo..." the elf begins.
"Fly flap!" Rori cries. "It's a fly flap." She glares daggers at Zevran as she takes her uncle by his arm to lead him away. "So, you wanted to talk to me, Uncle Angus?" she asks ever so sweetly. Snatching the flogger from the bann, she thrusts it at me and I am left standing there with this... thing... and the smirking elf.
I am somewhat tempted to just drop it into the water... but... all those images that pop up in my mind when I look at it... the leather is rather soft and smooth, almost made as much for a caress as for... uhm... other things... According to that smug look on the elf's face, he so knows what's on my treacherous mind. I blush, clear my throat, clear it again... Something distracting, something, something... "So I have a question for you, Zevran." I finally blurt out, the blasted flogger still in my hand. "You're here, at least in part, to get away from the Crows, right?"
"That is indeed true." Zevran chuckles when I attempt to stuff Rori's fly flap into her backpack. Guess what I find! The golem control rod. Why in the name of the Maker she still carries it around is completely beyond me.
"Aw," the elf chuckles. "That's how my toy collection started, too."
"Wh-what? I... no... we don't... that's really nothing... we never...," I stammer, wondering what one could possibly do with a broken golem control rod shaped like... oh!... OH!... Well... uhm... it could come in handy in some ways...
Seeing that look on the elf's face, he so knows it's dawning on me. I hurry on before he can say something I so do not want to hear because it's bound to be something awfully dirty and depraved and I am going to blush down to my navel... or further.
"S-so when this is over, what do you intend to do with yourself? You can't go back to Antiva, I assume."
"What I do depends in large part upon your lovely fellow Grey Warden. I am not a free man, as it were." He neither sounds nor looks devastated.
"Yes, yes, but what if you could do whatever you wanted? I mean, Rori is not going to make you do anything you don't want to do..."
"Now isn't that a pity?"
"Huh?"
"Ah, Alistair, my clueless friend... nevermind." Zevran shakes his head in amusement. "What makes you think I intend to go anywhere?"
"So you do intend to go back to the Crows?" I wonder.
I mean, this Blight won't last forever... hopefully. And as fortune favour fools we all actually should have at least some chance to survive... hopefully. So, one has to have plans. Okay, I don't have plans but that's because my future includes all this king business and I really do not want to think about it too much. It scares me right out of my mind, more than the archdemon does. Or at least in a different way. I somehow feel more capable of slaying that oversized tainted darkspawn lizard than to rule a kingdom.
"Oh, I don't know" Zevran ponders. "Aren't you going to be king? Perhaps you have people you need killed?"
"I probably do, yes." According to what Leliana tells me about politics, the list will be quite long. Life as a king is certainly not going to be boring.
"See?" Zevran, all amiable, slaps my back. It still makes me jump. I just can't get over it that he's a freaking assassin. "It's that sort of thinking that makes me think I have a future in this fine country of yours."
"That's assuming I would hire you." The elf isn't exactly the best assassin. Not that I've seen many. Luckily he is probably the only one I've ever met when acting as a professional. As he so failed to murder me, gave away all the details about his employer and his contract when asked - I mean, Rori didn't even threaten him, he just told us the whole tale and more! - and then switched alliances to join his targets and their cause... Nope, sorry, Zevran so wouldn't be my first choice.
"That's the lovely thing about kings," the elf laughs. "They make for good business, as the client or the target."
"And people wonder why someone might not want to be king," I mutter. Zevran, he's nobody to be really worried about - one because... well, he failed once, I doubt he'd get it done given a second try. Two, he might be tempted by gold to harm me, but never Rori. Still, he's not the only assassin out there and this game of thrones we play, it's the most dangerous favourite pastime. That much I figured from listening to Leliana's story. ... and from all the blasted dreck Loghain came up with to murder his king and gain control over Ferelden... and from the Couslands' fate, the downfall of the most important, most powerful noble family of Ferelden next to the king.
The ships berth in a sheltered bay when night falls. Eamon rather would make haste and not delay our arrival at Denerim any longer. But Bann Mac Eanraig insists to wait for the reinforcement of two more ships of his fleet, sailed by some of Rori's cousins.
"That son of a bitch Howe has hired pirates to hunt us down. That's how King Loghain..." Angus spits onto the wooden floor three times. "... uses our tax money. In case we meet some of Howe's new buddies, I'd rather have some backup to make sure this young fellow here..." He slams his hand down on my back with a force that almost makes me topple over. "... arrives save and sound to take back his throne from that treacherous bastard."
What saves me from falling is Uncle Angus squeezing me in a firm headlock and ruffling my hair with his free hand. I am quite vain when it comes to my hair. I have a comb and I do use it. So having the human version of an ogre mess it up, is nothing I am particularily happy about. In addition I am not rather fond of finding my face pressed to another man's rather sweaty armpit. I am tempted to ask Barkley for licking my face clean like Rori does when she's all covered in gore. Dog drool seems the lesser of two evils when compared to Uncle Angus' prespiration. And all that doesn't even include the fact that I can hardly breathe anymore...
"Your Highness," Angus thunders once he decides to release me - after Rori kindly pointed out to him my face was beginning to turn blue. "Allow me to offer my cabin to you as the other... lodging facilities aren't suitable for my royal guest."
"Err... I really... that's not necessary..." Hey, thanks to Lady Isolde I slept in the kennels with the dogs whenever the arl spent the winter in Denerim. And in Redcliffe it was the stables. At the Chantry I shared a dormitory crammed with bunk beds with two dozen boys. And ever since Ostagar it was a tent somewhere in the middle of nowhere or the rocky ground in the Deep Roads. "Maybe the lady..."
"Tougher then he looks, huh?" Angus slaps his huge palm on my back again. "And a gentleman. Good on you, son."
And that's how I end up in the same quarters as the soldiers, trying to get comfortable in a hammock. Above me there's Oghren, farting in his sleep. The smell in the sleeping quarters is already bad enough without adding Oghren and my socks. Sten's not exactly smelling like a rose, too. He snores on the ground as he's too large for any hammock. Leliana keeps telling herself this is not worse than the Deep Roads. Morrigan stays on deck. Smart decision. The only one who gets to sleep in a bed is Rori. She called me a fool for having turned down Angus' offer and I am beginning to think she might be right about that.
In the end I decide, it's better on deck than down here and after some struggling finally manage to fall out of my hammock and stumble up the stairs. I am greeted by a velvet sky, midnight blue sprinkled with tiny shiny dots. That's for sure a prettier sight than Oghren's hairy buttocks.
The air is better, too. Much better. Fresh and salty. The moon illuminates the whole scene of three ships in a bay. It all looks a bit like a rather kitschy painting. All that is missing is a handsome young man and a beautiful young woman in an romantic encounter and it would match the cover of the book Wynne currently reads.
"Alistair?"
I smile, turning at the sound of the voice coming from the shadows at the bow of the ship. "Hey kitten, shouldn't you be fast asleep, enjoying the comfort of the bed your uncle gave up to you?"
"It's not that comfortable with Uncle Angus sleeping on the sofa in the very same cabin," Rori pouts. "He's such a chaperon. Look at what he made me wear!" To show me, Rori climbs out of the rowing boat she has chosen to turn into a cozy nest of blankets and furs for herself and Barkley.
"Err..." I like her better in my shirts. This... nightgown has far too many quillings and... "Is that baby bunnies?" They are pink and they hop in a row of terrible cuteness around the hem of the nightdress.
"It belongs to Auntie Agnes," Rori sighs. "Angus rowed to her ship personally to get it for me as he doesn't think a man's shirt a proper night attire for a young noble lady. And I have to keep the curtains around the bed closed so that nobody can see me and I cannot see anybody and... it's all very complicated."
"I see." I chuckle.
"Uncle Angus always makes a fuss, but... now Mama and Papa are dead and nobody knows for sure what happened to Fergus... He exaggerates it, really. He tries to be my father, mother, brother and uncle in one - and it's driving me crazy!" Rori bangs her forhead against my shoulder repeatedly.
"You have my sympathy," I grin, wrapping my arms around her - after checking that nobody is watching us. I can do without Uncle Angus' special treatment for his ladies' admirers.
"His snoring is worse than Oghren's and Sten's duets," Rori mumbles into my shirt as she snuggles closer. That feeling of her warm, soft body pressed against mine erases any fear of Uncle Angus. "And... I miss you." She nuzzles my neck, then tiptoes to kiss me.
"What about your uncle?" I manage a half-hearted protest, whispered against the smoothness of her lips. At that point kissing is already beyond innocent and I am already half inside Rori's boat nest.
"Fast asleep," Rori assures me, her nimble fingers untying the breeches of my pants while I shed out of my shirt and stumble backwards into the boat. Rori makes short work of my pants and tosses them aside... and over the railing.
"That was my best pants!" I gasp.
"That was your only pants," Rori corrects me, grinning sheepishly when I glare at her.
"You think that's funny?" I growl, ready to go into a huff... but then Rori sheds out of that nightmare of a nightdress and has it follow my pants. The silver moonlight makes her pale skin glow softly. Maker's Breath! She is so adorably beautiful. Who cares about pants when there's a ravishing woman stradling him? I certainly don't. Pants would be quite an hindrance at the moment anyway...
Making love to Rori in that rowing boat on deck of her uncle's ship, I am completely oblivious to anything but her and me with our bodies united in the pleasure we give to each other. This ship could sink and we wouldn't notice...
... or Uncle Angus could sneak upon us despite the tock-tock of his peg leg...
I have just rolled Rori around to be on top of her when someone twists my earlap painfully as if I was a misbehaving little boy, and never losening his grip pulls me away.
"You thrice-cursed whorespawn!"
Angus is shouting at the top of his voice - mostly obscenities directed at me -, Rori is screaming - mostly at her uncle to let go of me-, I am howling - mostly at Angus to release my ear.
"Son of a bitch! I will drown you like the dog you are!" Angus roars as he drags me - stark naked as I am - across the deck towards the railing. His announcement doesn't help much to make me feel any better.
"No!" Rori yells, clinging to her uncle's arm without much success in stopping him. He's a giant of a man and he is on a mission. A naked niece dangling from his arm is not making much of a difference when there's a task to be completed. He finally lets go of me when Rori sinks her teeth into his arm. Roaring like a wounded bear, he throws his niece aside and comes after me, sword in hand. That's what I call out of the frying pan, into the fire.
"Run!" Rori shouts. As if I needed anybody telling me. I am already fleeing across the deck with Angus at my heels and Rori chasing after her uncle. Barkley thinks this is all a funny game and barks happily at all three of us.
"How dare you dishonour my niece! You two-faced bastard!" The sword crashes against a mast, only two inches above my head. I squeak like a frightened piglet and dart away, seeking refuge behind Shale.
"Stop! Leave him alone, Uncle Angus! I love him!" Rori tries to stop the frenzied bann from chasing me around the golem for several rounds.
"Are you married?" Angus grunts.
"Of course not!"
"Then he will die!" Angus decides, coming once more after me with his sword raised.
"Ohhhh! Stop being so blimpish!" Rori yells, stomping her foot on the ground. "If I am old enough to kill darkspawn, I'm also old enough to have sex!"
"You are not unless you are married!" Angus insists.
"Mac Eanraig! He's the last of the Theirins!" Eamon - only wearing his nightshirt - shouts as he joins in the merry tag play.
"Shall I crush its head?" Shale helpfully offers.
"Yes!" I cry when Angus chases my naked self past the by now assembled audience. It certainly is one of the most humiliating moments of my life. Maybe I should just allow that madman to put an end to my suffering before the neverending shame can bring me down.
"No!" Rori breathes and Shale just shrugs in confusion.
Angus has me cornered with my back against the railing, his sword raised, he roars in triumph. I back away when there's nowhere to go and tumble over the railing backwards, the same moment as Rori tackles her uncle. The blow goes amiss when the furious bann is thrown out of balance by his naked niece clinging to his back.
I'm not really prepared for hitting the icy water and swallow far too much of it. I am still trying to flail my way back to the surface when someone pulls my head out of the water.
"Stop flailing!" Rori yells into my ear.
"I can swim on my own," I splutter and spit. Being rescued by a petite female isn't helping with my manly feelings. I mean, it's real sweet she jumped in right after me. Still, I'd look less like a complete loser if I had managed to rescue myself. Oh happy day!
Angus only wants to pull Rori out of the water but Eamon insists I shouldn't be left to drown in the Waking Sea. How very considerable of him.
"He will marry her. Here and now." Bann Mac Eanraig argues, not willing to let me back on board without resurrecting his niece's soiled reputation. So Rori and I tread water while two old men argue about what's absolutely none of their business.
"Don't be a fool, Mac Eanraig. That's not his decision," Eamon snorts.
"It is not?" I mumble.
"He's going to be king," Eamon points out. "You know as well as I do, that his marriage will be a political issue. Your niece may be a possible candidate but she is not the only one."
"Hello?" Rori mutters. "We can hear you, you know!"
"Your prince should have thought about that before he dishonoured my niece!" Bann Angus grunts.
"Knowing your niece, I'm not sure it's him you should blame."
"What's that, Eamon? You saying my niece is a whore?" the peg legged giant roars. I expect Eamon to join Rori and me anytime soon if he goes on like that.
"I said nothing like that, Angus," Eamon sighs unnervedly. "We have to decide what's best for Ferelden. Our personal desires and feelings have no room when the whole kingdom and all its people are at stake."
"Oh Maker! Listen to him," Rori groans. "He sounds like Wynne!" She doesn't like this at all. She's not alone there. I don't like it either.
"Best I don't become king," I whisper. I'm not going to add 'Told you so!' although it's tempting. In my opinion Rori always was too eager on the king campaign. "I don't want to anyway. Then we can stay together and happily slay darkspawn together happy ever after."
Smiling Rori somehow manages to kiss me without drowning us both. If the water wasn't that awfully cold and deep, this could turn into something real... exciting. As it is, we are forced to break the kiss soon.
"And who else should rule? I don't see an alternative." Rori whispers.
"You forget about Anora," I point out, coughing through half of the sentence when I swallow some more water. "She's a good queen."
"We do not know where Anora stands. Have you forgotten the letters we found in Ostagar? How Empress Celene addressed Cailan? I still believe they planned to marry. If Anora knew anything about that, she could also be part of her father's treachery."
Finally the arl and the bann have come to a conclusion and a rope ladder is dropped to get us back on board.
"As you said: we do not know about her. Perhaps you should consider giving her a chance?"
"As if my opinion mattered!" Rori snorts as she begins to climb the rope ladder. It's quite a sight considering she is naked and the moon is bright enough to illuminate all the details. "In the end nobody is going to ask you or me who shall be king or queen."
On board we are greeted with stern and scornful glares, some towels and in my case a kilt.
"What's that for?"
"Can't have you fight your duel starkers," Angus growls, shoving my sword at me as soon as I have managed to put on the kilt with Rori's help.
"Err... duel?"
"Really, Uncle, it's none of your business who I sleep with," Rori snaps.
"Wrong, young lady! Your father is dead. Your mother is dead. Your brother is missing. That makes me the one responsible for you." Ignoring any further protest he whirls his sword around testingly. "Eamon said I am not allowed to cause permanent damage. So this is a fight for first blood. Draw your weapon, boy."
I am about to tell him no. I mean, hello? Two grown up men, naked but for a skirt, beating each other up over a woman who seems very much capable of making her own choices. I've been challenged before by Sten and it was as pointless as this duel. But then I recall what Rori told me about her father duelling Angus and how it earnt him his respect... Oh, blast it!
"If I win, you will stay away from my niece...," Angus goes on.
Now I do open my mouth to protest but Rori beats me to it. "And how are you going to make sure I stay away from him?" she hisses. "Are you going to fight me, too?"
"You have a big mouth, girl. Just like your mother. Nobody could tame her. Never did as she was told, always had to have it her way."
"And what makes you think I am different?" Rori, arms akimbo, doesn't back down when her uncle tries his stern glare on her. She just stares back defiantly.
"Fine. I fight you, too, Pup," Angus grumbles, sounding as if he talked to a stubborn child. "You lose, you do as you are told."
"You have to beat Alistair first," Rori points out. "Good luck. You'll need it."
"Thank you," I mutter.
"I was talking to Angus," Rori says, wrapping her arms around my neck to kiss me. And that's some kiss! She certainly makes her point, much to her uncle's and Eamon's dismay.
When I reach out to shake his hand before the duel begins, Bann Mac Eanraig slaps it away and spits onto the ground.
"Uncle Angus!" Rori hisses. "Shake on it!" Grumbling the huge searaider obeys - and squeezes my fingers so hard, he almost breaks them.
To the sound of drums the fight begins... just, I don't get it.
I still examine my battered hand when Angus comes for me, roaring like a bear as he swings his sword. I can lift mine just in time to block his blow. With the next frenzied hits he forces me to retreat and dodge. Once I recover from the first surprise, it's a bit easier to fend him off.
Sword in hand, Angus and I circle each other inside the fighting ground marked by soldiers with torches.
I squint my eyes, scrutinizing my opponent. He's stronger, taller and heavier than I am, has more experience and is not as slow as one would think considering he has a piece of wood for a leg. And he's determined to stomp me into the ground. He's also older, far too cocksure and I have more to lose.
Next time he lunges himself at me, I dive forwards, avoiding his blade and with a sidestep bring mine down on his bare arm. It's no more than a small cut. But I do not need to really hurt him. All I have to do is draw blood.
Angus is still standing there, staring at his arm stupidly when I bow to him, not even caring to hide the smug grin on my face. Then I turn to accept my reward, waiting for me in form of the most ravishing young woman I have ever met.
"This is not yet over," Angus grunts, cutting the air between Rori and me with his sword to keep us apart. "I have challenged you, too, Pup. You lose, you do as you are told, remember?"
By the look on Rori's face Angus is making the biggest mistake of his life. "Give me my sword," she growls as she steps into the ring formed by Angus' soldiers.
"Don't you want to get dressed..." her uncle begins.
"No!"
Rori only wears a towel and she has to clutch it with one hand to keep it from slipping. Confident of his victory, Angus smirks... untl Rori attacks. Three fast, well-aimed blows and all three straps fastening Angus' kilt to Angus are cut. The kilt drops to the ground and so does Angus' sword when, swearing under his breath, he claps both hands over his now very visible most private parts. No more than five seconds and a few fast cuts later Uncle Angus finds the word NO engraved into the skin of his hairy chest.
"Here's a piece of information for you, Uncle Angus - and for anybody else," Rori says calmly, pointing her sword at her uncle. "Alistair's and my relationship is none of your blasted business. He and I are the only ones to make any decisions when it comes to this relationship. You can have your own opinion about us as long as you don't assume he or I should give a damn. Mind your own business and leave us the fuck alone."
Thus said, she turns on her heels, grabs me by the front of my kilt, pulls me flash against her and then she kisses me.
"Bully for you, kitten! You gave him a good dressing-down," I chuckle, hugging her close to me.
"Sod it all!" Bann Mac Eanraig murmurs as he picks up his kilt. "Same spitfire as her mother."
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In good times and in bad

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