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Strangers with Cookies	By : pirouette Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 9211 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age/Bioware, its characters, or any content used for the basis of this fanfiction. I am making no money from this work.

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Title: Strangers with Cookies

Chapter Eight: �Qunari are most dangerous because we are thinking men
and not unthinking force.�

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,900

Characters: f!Mahariel, Sten, Leliana, Alistair, Wynne, Morrigan,
Zevran

Summary: "Let me see your teeth." Also, bandits
suck.

It would be nice to travel for a day without running afoul
of bandits. The road to the Brecelian Forest appears to be a favorite haunt of
theirs: in two days, they have killed at least twenty opportunists. For the
most part, they are not even real soldiers, but mere scavengers who prey on
refugees streaming from the Blight-infected southlands. The priestess and the
Templar enjoy cleansing the roads, but Adhara has been listless since the
shrieks attacked their camp.
The assassin has taken it upon himself to become her shadow,
though she seems as indifferent to his presence as she does to the enemies she
fells with her blade. This does nothing to deter him: at night he brings meals
for her, rubs her shoulders, pets her hair. She tolerates his coddling much
better than Sten, who does not trust his intentions. He also does not like
having to sit watch with her while she is covered in his scent. And so he takes
to choosing rocks where she cannot comfortably join him. If this annoys her,
she gives no sign.
Or, perhaps he is not paying close enough attention. �What's
wrong with you?� she snarls three nights later, climbing pointedly into
his lap and putting them both in danger of falling over.
"You are foolish to trust the assassin."
There is a long pause, and then she bursts into a fit of
giggles. "I didn't expect that answer! I know he's using this as an
opportunity to seduce me with kindness. I'm not an idiot." She tilts her
head and stares upward at his face. "But why do you care?"
This question makes him feel oddly defensive. "Why do
you encourage him?"
Her laughter fades. "Because I'm sad, and lonely, and ,
you've been avoiding me since we buried Tamlen even though I thought we were
friends." She sighs and relaxes into his lap. "I can't ask Alistair for
a hug, and Wynne's platitudes don't make me feel better."
He is quiet for some time, but she makes no move to leave
his lap. Finally, he ceases attempting to not be pleased at her proximity, and
manages to answer her initial question more honestly. "...I am not
emotionally dead."
"I know," she murmurs, and leans back against his
chest. As she adds �I'm sorry,� her fingers link with his. Her entire hand is
barely larger than his palm.
Sten gets very little sleep that night.
�The Sten is in a foul mood today,� observes the assassin
the next morning, wedging himself between the qunari and Adhara as they
continue their trek east.
�Annoy someone else.� Behind him, the priestess is teaching
the Templar a song that is either about a great war, or cabbage, and it would
be a mercy to his head if they were stopped.
�Ah, but no one else is as fun, nor quite so large a
target.�
�Zev,� Adhara frowns, and both men bristle.
Any retorts, and the singing, are halted by an arrow. They
have been ambushed by yet another group of bandits, and as Sten turns to face
them, drawing Asala, he comes face-to-face with another qunari, walking toward
them in heavy armor.
�Oh, come on!� Alistair cries. �How is giving a sodding qunari
a mace fair?�
�I think I'll be sitting this one out,� the assassin frowns.
�Your Maker's ass you will, flat-ear,� hisses Adhara,
�unless you want me to be very mad at you later.�
�I take it this isn't the kind of angry I'd enjoy? No?
Blast.� He draws his knives and melds into the shadows. �
They do not understand. They think the creature before them
is actually a qunari, which almost angers him more than its presence does. How
can they not tell that it is hollow, a mockery, a disgusting shell? Sten's
shout of rage is enough to draw the attention of every approaching bandit except
the Tal'Vashoth fiend, who instead chooses Adhara as his target.
Coward, to select the tiny, unarmored foe. The Templar
intercepts it and holds it off of Adhara, who falls back and begins sniping the
bandits surrounding Sten with her bow. The forest rings with the sound of metal
on wood, and by the time Sten moves to aid him, the Templar is panting and has
fallen into a completely defensive stance to protect against the fiend's mace. Sten
surges forward, sword swinging, and enters the brawl. He will enjoy putting
this one down more than any darkspawn.
But Sten quickly learns that he has been too long among the
short races. He no longer ducks when he should, having grown accustomed to
blows that can't possibly reach his head. And it is a warm day, so he is not
wearing his helmet. Because of this, he takes two mace-blows to the face at the
outset of the fight, and feels his vision growing dark.

When he comes to, the overbearing mage appears to have
healed him; his skin is crawling with magic, and the qunari is holding off both
the Templar and the assassin, though two arrows in its thigh have slowed it
somewhat. He picks up his sword, charges back into the fray, and beheads the
fiend before falling over again and clutching at his head.

�Sit down,� orders Adhara, guiding him to a nearby tree and
pulling on his forearms until he obeys. His ears spend a few minutes ringing as
the others sort through the bandits' gear. Afterward, they appear to resume
walking.
��ll be right there,� she tells them as she kneels in front
of Sten. �I want to make sure his skull's not cracked before I let him move.�
No. The others are leaving. It is unwise to travel away from
the main group. He shakes his head and attempts to pull away from her. �I do
not need coddling. Let me stand. We should be moving.� As he speaks, the worst
of the dizziness fades, but she will not be dissuaded.
�Sten, hold still.� She presses him by the shoulders,
silently ordering him to rest against the tree he is propped against. He swipes
at her hands irritably, attempting to brush her away. �No, stop. Let me see
your teeth.�
�Why?�
�You took a mace to the face. One could have broken.� Adhara
straddles his legs, rising onto her knees to bring her face level with his.
�Come on. Teeth, now.�
�Qunari teeth do not break,� he grumbles.
�I'll put that with 'women can't fight,' and 'qunari don't
crawl,' if it's all the same to you.� She takes his face in her hands and leans
in close.
He can ignore her warmth, and how close she is to his face.
But with his mouth open, and her fingers alternately pressing down on and
pulling back at his lips, he is forced to breathe through his nose. The last of
the pain from the mace fades from his nerves and is replaced with the smell of her
hair, skin, and sweat. A deeper breath as her fingers slide from his lips to
his jawline, feeling gently for injury.
She is very warm. And her face is so close to his. He
watches her eyes as they intently study his mouth, and sees for the first time flecks
of blue amidst the grey. When she licks at her lips in concentration, he takes
her shoulders in his hands and swallows.
�Adhara.�
�Hmm?� Her eyes flick upward to his as her hands slide down
to rest on his chest. She's smiling, but that fades as soon as she meets his
eyes. �What's wrong?�
Parshaara.
Sten pulls her against him, shifting his hand into the small
of her back, and presses his mouth to hers. He can see her eyes go wide, and
hear her gasp of shock, and feel the tension that runs down her body against
his hands and legs. For a moment he finds himself thankful that her armor has
been ruined and they have yet to find a replacement, but any hint of guilt at
being glad that his commander is wearing no protective gear fades when he feels
warm wetness against his lips. Her tongue.
Odd, that the sensation should be so pleasing. He opens his
mouth for her and growls when her arms wrap around his neck. As she gasps
again, he loses the last of his restraint and lowers his face to taste the skin
of her neck. His enthusiasm pushes her backward, and when she is forced to
brace herself against the ground she speaks his name once.
It registers, barely, but it is delicious and breathy and
only makes him want more. He overwhelms her completely, pushing her back into
the dirt by her shoulders, and traces the outline of her ear with his tongue
before pausing and listening to the way she is panting beneath him.
�Sten,� she repeats. �Wait, what are�� he tastes her neck
again, and her fingers bury into his ponytail, tugging hard until he reaches
her collarbone. This time, she actually groans, and the sound makes his eyes
shut heavily as he breathes her in again.
�What are you doing?� she manages before his teeth elicit a
gasp. A dull voice in the back of his mind is warning him to be gentle: she is
smaller than he, and will likely bleed or bruise with what he would consider
normal pressure. But it is difficult for him to restrain himself; his fingers
tighten around her wrists, he nips at her shoulder, and presses against her so
that she can't bring her knees up to shove him away. Seconds later, she appears
to have changed her mind, and is arching into him suggestively instead�if he
didn't have this armor on he would actually be able to feel her�
�Warden?�
Sten and Adhara freeze as one and turn their heads toward
the source of the sound. If ever the assassin had made a case for his death,
this was it. They struggle to their feet, she wiping delicately at her mouth
with one hand, and have enough time to brush dirt off armor and clothing before
he calls again.
�Here, Zev,� she gasps, then takes a deep breath to steady
her voice.
He follows her voice and steps into view from between two
nearby trees. �They were worried you'd have trouble getting the qunari back on
his feet, and so decided to send the other elf to you for aid.�
Yes, that makes perfect sense. More likely that he wanted to
adhere himself to Adhara's side again. �I'm fine,� Sten scowls. �I was just... dizzy.�
The assassin shrugs. �I'll go tell them that, and come back
to wait with Adhara for you to recuperate.�
Adhara shakes her head and points toward the path, turning
her back to Sten and the assassin. �No, no. He's fine. We'll all walk back
together.� As she begins moving, his eyes are drawn to the sway of her hips
within her trousers, and he feels his pulse race again.
Think of the Qun. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun.
The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. The tide rises,
the tide falls�
...Vashedan. Her hips are swaying to the rhythm of his
thoughts.
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- 9
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Strangers with Cookies