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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
- 94
- 95
- 96
Notes:

Pooka's very own version of the Dark Ritual.

Chapter Text
"Alistair," Rori gasps, clinging to me like I would disolve should she let go. The sentiment is mutual so we hold each other tight and I inhale the scent of verbena and taste the sage in her kiss, feel the softness of her curves and the warmth of her living body. Maker preserve us! Running of to Orlais suddenly doesn't sound like such a bad idea anymore.
Then Rori shrugs out of my embrace to face me, her expression determined and yet pained and sad. She opens her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again, shakes her head and begins pacing the tent, repeatedly murmuring "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" That's better though than her just standing there and staring at me, her expression blank.
Odd.
"Err... did Morrigan find you?," I make an attempt to chase the awkward tension away that looms in her brooding silence. "She asked about you earlier... and the look she gave me. That was icy, even for her." Rori hardly listens, she is muttering under her breath, having a debate with herself it seems. "Is something up?"
"Uhm... you look tired. Why don't you sit down, get a little more comfortable..." Rori snaps out of her absentminded soliloquy. She takes my hand to lead me towards the bed. "Need a hand with your boots? Or maybe not...?" she mutters when I pull free from her grasp.
"You are changing the subject. I am tired but I am not stupid. What did Morrigan want?" Templar alert! Evil witch plan ahead! I very much doubt Morrigan just sought her out to discuss the weather or have girl talk.
"You really should take a seat," Rori mumbles.
"Oh. I guess, whatever Morrigan had to say, it's big." I slump down on the edge of the cot and prepare myself for whatever is to come now. "Okay, I'm sitting. So in case the shock of your confession has me faint like a damsel, I at least won't hit my head." I heave a deep heartfelt sigh. "This is what I get for becoming king. Everyone always brings you the bad news. So what is it then? Rats running amok? Cheese supplies run low? I can take it."
"I... I love you. You know that, right?" Rori whispers. She couldn't look more guilty if I had caught her with her hand stuck in the cookie jar.
Oh blast! So it's real bad. After Riordan's revelation I thought, nothing could surprise me anymore. But I can't get rid of the impression Rori and her witch-bitch-hitch are aiming to top that.
"Could you make it sound more ominous? Tell me already." I growl, not able to tell her that I not only know she loves me but love her in return, an emotion that runs so deep, I right here and now make a silent promise: If it came down to Rori and I, the sacrifice would be mine...
"I need you to do something you won't like," Rori pants out her words in great distress. "Not at all. And I am so sorry that I have to ask this of you. I wouldn't if there was another way. But there isn't and I'm desperate and..."
"I don't care for the sound of that," I cut her short before she can go on making no sense at all. "What are we talking about exactly?"
Silence, Rori bites her lips, staring at me with huge round eyes, dark pools glittering with tears. Then a forced sheepish grin forms around the corners of her mouth. Someone is having a whole lot of guilt-pangs.
"Maker's Breath, Rori! Spit it out! Even Riordan didn't beat around the bush like you do. Your news can't be worse, can it?"
Rori squeezes her eyes shut, ducks her head and blurts out: "YouneedtosleepwithMorrigan!"
Err... what!?
"It's part of a magic ritual," she adds meekly. Crouching as if she expected a thunderstorm to crash down on her, she opens one eye to glimpse at me for a reaction.
I'm dumbstruck. Did she just say what I believe she said? "Could you... repeat this please. I must have misheard. Not the part with the magic ritual. But before... It almost sounded as if... but that's just crazy!
"You need to sleep with Morrigan," Rori repeats slowly, emphasizing every single word. "The ritual she suggests... that way we won't die when slaying the archdemon. Well. it could still eat us, I guess... but this essence-wandering, that's not going to harm us."
Ooookay. So... this is a hoax, right? Right?
Of course it is! She really got me with this one. The look on my face must have been priceless.
"Cute," I laugh out loud, rising from the bed to lean casually against the post in the middle of the tent. "This is payback, right? For all the jokes."
Rori doesn't laugh, though. Just arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to figure it out. Time passes, my grin freezes on my face and it slowly begins to dawn on me...
Doom!
DOOM!
"But... you're not joking. You're actually serious."
Bad-news-contest! And the winner is: the witch-bitch! Congratulations! Your prize is a steaming hot night with a ruggedly handsome but rather unwilling young man or a box seat in the upcoming play The Archdemon vs. Alistair, a tragedy in three acts.
"Wow, be killed by the archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How does someone make this kind of choice?" I start pacing, running my fingers through my hair nervously. Andraste's flaming sword! That's our way out? Our only hope? Oh Maker! What should I do? Not dying sounds... awesome. Especially if it involves Rori. Sleeping with Morrigan sounds... not so awesome. Quite the contrary. "You're not actually asking me this, are you?"
"Nooooo, I just dropped by for some gossip and tittle-tattle," Rori snorts. "Hey, have you heard about that ritual that could save our lives? It's a hilarious tale. I mean, when will we ever again get the chance to die by slaying an archdemon? Who would want to miss this opportunity? That probably ranks pretty high on a scale of cool heroic deaths."
"Point taken."
"Alistair, I know this isn't easy for you." Rori says softly, following me around like a puppy as I pace. "I would perform this ritual if I could but I can't, so... yes, I am actually asking... begging you to do this..."
"What kind of ritual is this, anyway?" I stop dead, having strange visions of chopped off body parts, blood splattered everywhere and me passing as Alice afterwards.
"Okay... this is the part you will like less of all." Rori confesses.
She has to be kidding! "What can be worse than sleeping with Morrigan? What will happen to me? Are there any demons involved? Or abominations?"
"No demons, no abominations and next to getting laid nothing will happen to you," Rori explains, sounding as uncomfortable as I feel. "Err... getting laid by Morrigan isn't exactly nothing... but you know... it's nothing permanent. Physically permanent... Don't say it won't haunt you... someone you don't want to touch you, fumbling around on you..." She shudders, Fort Drakon written all over her face. Her terrible experience alleviates some of my distress. Rori would never ever make a... request like this carelessly. I don't say this makes me like it any better, though. "I really wouldn't suggest this if I knew any different solution..."
"Rori! The ritual!"
"I won't lie to you, okay?" Rori says hesitantly.
"I'd very much appreciate if you didn't!"
"It will produce a child."
"WHAT?!" I squeak.
Doom!
DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
"I... I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to impregnate Morrigan in some kind of magical sex rite?" I laugh nervously. It sounds quite hysterical.
"Yeah, that sums it up nicely."
Someone's making strange gurgling noises... Oh, haha, that's me! Throw me in the fire and call me Andraste! Holy. Fucking. Shit.
"This... this child... why would Morrigan want such a thing? Does she want an heir to the throne?" I am having terrible visions of a smaller demonic version of myself laughing madly as the far too big crown lopsidedly sits on his head.
"I doubt Morrigan is interested in your throne. As far as I recall it's a rather simple wooden chair with mabari carvings... The crown, now that's a different story. Morrigan likes shiny things..."
"RORI!"
"Sorry... She said she wanted to help us... me. About the child she said that you will never see it. And it will be neither darkspawn nor evil."
"Right until it marches up with an army to claim the throne, I'm sure." I mutter gloomily. Morrigan helping us? Yeah, right. Pull the other leg. "Look, even if I was willing to entertain this idea... and I am not saying I am... is this really what you want me to do? Are you sure?" Now I really do need to take a seat. My legs feel like pudding.
Rori kneels in front of me, taking my hands. "Alistair, this is not the right time for kingly thoughts. Because if you don't do this, you will be a very dead king, soon. Or a king without a queen. And don't you say a word about Riordan and how he is going to make the final blow! I am not willing to take the risk and lose you... or die myself."
Maker! This is not all about ourselves. We have a responsibility, right? Save the world and die in the process. That's what makes Grey Wardens heroes. Very dead heroes.
Rori's voice softens when she goes on. It's no more than a whispered confession. Her eyes fill with tears when she looks up at me. "So yes, I am sure," she breathes. "I cannot make you and I couldn't blame you if you refused... Please know, I would never abandon you, no matter your choice... In good times and in bad... Till death do us part... Just... I'd rather not be parted by death, you see. It's nothing I particularily look forward to. I don't want to die. I don't want to live without you either. I couldn't live without you. I couldn't endure it."
"We could die in battle, Rori, without ever getting close to the archdemon."
"Yes, but, there I can fight. I can defend myself. I have a chance. Even with the Joining I had a chance. Not with the archdemon, though... Okay, I do sound pathetic now... But.. It is pathetic, isn't it? This whole situation with all the pressure and expectations and we being forced to sacrifice our lives for the sake of others and everybody going 'Sucks for you, now suck it up!'" Rori pulls at her hair frustratedly. "This all sounded much better in my mind... I could tell you, how great a king you could be, what we still could achieve in the years to come, fight the evil blabla. But truth is... and actually it's the only thing I care about... with this ritual... we could live. Together. We could be a family." Her hands fly to her belly again, a gesture she unconsciously has used often lately.
"Having the jitters?"
"W-what?" she squeaks, bamboozled by my question. I nod at her palms resting on her belly.
"Uhm... no... yes... I mean.... Alistair, there's something I need you to know... I am... I..." Rori licks her lips nervously. "I love you more than words could say. And I need you to be there for me and our..." She presses her mouth shut, shaking her head. For the first time ever since she started her plea, she looks away.
"Our what?" I ask suspiciously.
"Err... our country needs you, too," Rori mutters hesitantly. Inhaling deeply, she looks up at me again, her inner turmoil displayed on her face. "There is another reason... I just can't tell you right now. But... it is important. Very important."
"Then why can't you tell me?"
"Please, Alistair, you need to trust me," Rori beseeches me with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is raw with despair, her eyes utter a silent solicitation. "You need to trust me," she sobs. "Please!"
Fine, so for impregnating Morrigan I get a life with Rori in return? That's the deal? Whew... a few minutes of ultimative discomfort treated for the happiness of an entire life with the woman I love...
Sounds like an easy decision? It is not. It's not the right thing to do. I know, Rori knows. Like she said, I can find a whole lot of excuses why I should agree to this. Someone has to rule this nation, has to chase the remaining darkspawn away, rebuild the Grey Wardens... But actually, to be honest, I just do not want to die. I want to live happily ever after with Rori - and the burden of the guilt I am going to load upon me.
"All right. I do trust you. I'll do it." I press through gritted teeth.
"Thank you," Rori whispers, hugging me tight. She's as tense as a strung bow, I'm shaken. We are about to do something terrible. And yet, now I hold her in my arms, how could I refuse? That's what I get for camboodling with my fellow Warden...
Pushing Rori away gently, I groan distraughtedly. "Where is she? Let's go and get this over with before I... change my mind."
You don't perfrom a wicked magical ritual in the middle of a warcamp. So Rori and I crawl out of my tent at the backside and sneak through the camp. Well, she sneaks. I clumsily trudge along. If someone catches us now, they will believe us to be deserters. This is generally true, isn't it? Our duty is to die a heroic death and we just refuse.
Rori leads me into the nearby forest, across a narrow path through the undergrowth and towards a ghostly shimmering blue light. The path leads to a clearing dominated by a stone circle, a holy monument of ancient gods long forgotten. The dark monoliths loom over a flat stone altar in the middle of the circle, their shadows dance in the flickering light of a row of floating blue flames surrounding the altar.
The perfect surrounding for an evil witch-bitch sex rite. The only thing missing is a desperate victim getting his heart ripped out and devoured... oh wait! That's going to be me! Marvellous!
Morrigan leans against one of the monoliths, regarding us coolly, as we stand there holding hands like two orphans lost in the deep dark woods. Rori's are cold. mine sweaty, our fingeres intertwined so tightly it's almost painful. "Twould seem your talk is done? What did you decide?" the witch greets us.
"No, we're just taking a romantic walk in the dark," Rori dead-pans. "Alistair is here, what do you think?"
"Great. So this isn't a dream after all," I groan. "Or a joke. No dwarf or elf or granny mage hiding behind those stones? Blast!" Leliana once told me that female spiders eat their males. I really don't know why I think about that now.
"We shouldn't waste any time anymore," Morrigan says matter-of-factly. She's all business. "The ritual has to be performed at the eve of battle in the dark of night or it won't work."
"Wait!" I cry. "I want to ask about this... child. The one you... want."
"Interesting," Morrigan says slowly. "Honesty wouldn't have been my first choice."
"He at least deserves that much, don't you think?" Rori mutters. "I already feel guilty for asking him to perform this rite. It would be worse if he was here because of a lie that would have bereaved him of making his own choice."
Yeah, I know, Rori just convinced me to take part in a dark magical ritual to trick fate and I agreed because just like her I am too gutless to just die as we should, still right now I feel a pang of pride for her.
Anyway, king business... I mean, I got a responsibility for this nation, right?
"I just want to make sure that you are not going to use this - against Ferelden. That this bastard child of mine isn't going to show up some year..."
"Of that you have my word."
"Why don't I feel any better about this?" I sigh. Probably because I don't believe a single word she says. She and her mother, all they ever do is manipulate and lie. Like this ritual... where did she get it from? How would she know about our fate?
The answer begins with F and ends with Lemeth.
Now it makes sense why the old witch would rescue us from the top of the tower and send her daughter with us. She planned this! Just how could she know we would be alone, only the two of us? Did she also plan the defeat at Ostagar? Loghain's betrayal? Cailan picking me and Rori to light the beacon? Or did she just seize the opportunity? Good we slayed her, right? Or was it part of her plan so that we would be more willing to trust Morrigan? But, she's dead, right? Nobody can come back from the dead... Right?
Blast! Paranoia won't help. It only will give me a headache...
Maker! I have to concentrate on what truly matters: Rori. I have to save her. That's why I'm here. We can solve the witch-bitch-hitch later...
"All right. Let's just get this over with." Can someone give me a drink, please?
"Rori, please allow us some privacy now." Morrigan says when Rori makes no move to actually leave.
"Oh... yes, of course..." Rori mumbles unhappily. She hugs me and I hug her in return. It feels a little awkward and stiff when it's meant for comfort. "I love you," Rori whispers, tiptoeing to brush her lips against mine, then she vanishes in the darkness of the forest and I am alone with the witch.
"Err... okay... so... it's you and I and... what do I have to do, next to, you know... this..."
"Alistair, believe me when I say you will not hate this quite as much as you believe," Morrigan says in a low purr.
What's that? The witch-bitch way of giving comfort? An attempt of seduction? A promise of guilty pleasures? Doesn't work. I still hate this.
"Undress please."
"What? Everything? Maker!" I hide behind a monolith to get naked, then hobble back into the stone circle, covering my most private parts with my hands.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous!"
Ewww! Morrigan is starkers! Arms crossed in front of her chest but everything else really totally absolutely visible... Yeah, she is beautiful... She could be Miss Thedas and it wouldn't change a thing.
"Now, drink this." Morrigan hands me something that looks suspiciously like a... skull.
ARRGHH! It is a skull!
I almost drop the damned thing before noticing it's a darkspawn skull. Still creepy but at least she didn't chop some poor sod's head off to get this... um... makeshift mug.
"Eww... it smells of foul eggs," I complain, sniffing at the red liquid suspiciously. "And it glows in the dark... Why does it glow in the dark?"
"Get this down already!"
Oh well, I survived the Joining. Can't be worse.
"Bah! What is this? No! Forget I asked. And why is my tongue feeling fuzzy?" I stick out my tongue and squint my eyes to see if it's looking funny. All I see is the tip of my nose. "Will the rest of me feel fuzzy, too?" The prospect of lying naked on an altar, all at Morrigan's mercy, while paralyzed by some poisonous brew is nothing to cheer me up.
"Could we handle this as pros, please? Twould make things much easier for you and me." Morrigan snaps. "Now, lie on the altar."
"But it's cold! Can't we cover it with a blanket...?"
"Stop whining."
"What about a cushion for my head?"
"Prepare yourself." I take this as a no.
"Prepare... oh..."
"I won't be doing this for you. It is not part of the ritual. Only the intercourse itself."
This is weird. I sit on an ancient stone altar in a deep dark night and try to convince myself that this is somewhat erotic when Morrigan is watching me as if I was a frog about to get dissected.
When Morrigan approaches me, I stare at her like a rabbit cornered by a snake. She crawls towards me and I shrink away...
"Oh, whoa, wait... wait! I'm not ready for this..." I hold out my hands defensively.
"Hurry up!" the witch snaps. "This night won't last forever."
"Could you... could you please not stare at me like that?" I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to summon a fantasy... something thrilling... something exciting... something... " It doesn't work." Frustratedly I stare down at the limp meat in my hands. "Err... this usually never happens... at least not with Rori. Maker! I... I can't do this."
"Alistair," Morrigan says gently as she sits down beside me, almost as if we were old buddies. We both are starkers....
That's how stupid jokes start.
A witch and a templar sit on an altar, both naked. Says the witch to the templar: "Do you love her?"
I stare at her suspiciously. Next she will bite off my head after a mannered dinner prayer. "What kind of question is that?"
"A simple one."
"What do you care? You know nothing about love."
"I do care," Morrigan says softly. I must be hallucinating. She so doesn't sound like herself. Mean, meaner, Morrigan - that's what she is. And yet she sits here next to me, staring down at the hands in her lap. She looks... vulnerable. Lost. Alone. Is it... is it possible that she dislikes this as much as I do? "Rori taught me a lot about friendship... She didn't abandon me when I learnt the truth about Flemeth and her daughters. I owe her but she never once asked for a reward. I knew about the ritual from the beginning. Tis the reason why Flemeth sent me with you. It was my mission. After her death I was free to do what I wanted. But by then I was intrigued by this young Grey Warden..."
"Yes," I whisper. "I do love her.
"Then wouldn't you want to save her life?"
"I could sacrifice myself..."
"Brilliant plan!" Morrigan claps her hands. "Now that would make her happy!"
"Point taken."
"So can we do this? For Rori?"
"Yes, we can!" Alas, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. "Blast!"
"Let me give you a hand..."
"NO!" I squeak.
"Alistair! Get a hold of yourself!"
"What do you think I am doing?" I snap, unsuccessfully rubbing around on my manhood. I wish she wasn't staring at me like that. It's awkward. And again in capital letters AWKWARD!
"Blast and damnation!" Morrigan hisses, slipping off the altar.
"Where do you go?"
"Getting Rori. If she cannot solve your little problem, nobody can."
"Hey! What do you call little?" I sulk, frowning down at my manhood. "Traitor!" I mutter.
I sit there dangling my feet when Morrigan returns with Rori, two female figures, one tall and slim with narrow hips and an apple-bosom - Zevran's dictionary of female bosom shapes - , the other petite and voluptuous, slender but with sinuous curves.
Can't say Rori looks any happier than I when she climbs onto the altar next to me. I'm still glad she's here. "Lay down and close your eyes," she says softly. "You can stop this anytime as long as the ritual hasn't begun, okay?"
I nod. I'm far too nervous to speak. My mouth is dry and my tongue feels like a furry animal that has crawled into my mouth to die there.
I can feel Rori's soft body next to mine, sense her warm breath whispering against my skin and the tickling of her hair on my face when she leans in to kiss my lips lightly. She caresses my cheeks, runs her hands across my chest, belly and arms. Then she wraps a cool cloth - silk? - around my wrists and pulls my arms over my head. My eyes snap open and with great distress I watch her tie the silken bonds around a stone post at the head of the altar.
"Err... Rori!?"
"It's for your protection during the ritual."
If this is meant to soothe my worries, it doesn't work. Getting tied up by Rori usually is quite a turn on. However not when lying on a creepy stone altar and being tied to whatever this is... was... Formerly it must have been a statue carved into the stone but time has washed away most of the details. It must have been a woman, probably elven, her hands clasped in front of a swollen womb.
"Morrigan says this is Mythal the Protector, the elven goddess of love and patron of motherhood," Rori explains, the gentleness of her voice choked by her effort to fight back her tears.
"How fitting," I mutter.
"You rather stop?" Rori asks once I am safely tied up. I shake my head no. Well, of course I'd rather stop but the alternatives aren't thrilling either. "Okay, be a good boy and keep your eyes closed."
Obediently I close my eyes again and try to forget that I lie on the stone altar of an ancient elven goddess. It's like one of these cheesy romance novels Wynne reads. If this was only about Rori and I... then it wouldn't be that bad at all... especially not when she's kissing me the way she does... Maker's Breath!
It starts all sweet, her nibbling and teasingly sucking my lips, her nimble fingers roaming my body, a tender caress to coax me into relaxing... I am so exhausted and tired, she almost has me doze off that way - and that's when she bites my lips and kisses me in earnest. Her tongue slides into my mouth like hot velvet, intertwining with mine in a sinuous dance. Suddenly I am wide awake, my body reacting to the sensation of her skillful fingers whispering across my skin.
It's almost unbearable to keep my eyes closed. Not touching her is even worse. I gasp when she breaks the kiss, I feel her moving next to me. Then she's on top of me, her legs planted at both sides of my body. She leans forward, the soft flesh of her bosom brushing across my face, chest, belly as she moves down, down, down...
There's a sharp stinging at my wrist the very moment Rori sucks my manhood into the hot cavern of her mouth...
"Merciful Andraste!" I moan. Something warm is tickling down my lower arm. Another sharp pricking just when Rori lazily circles her tongue around the tip of my erection. I wish I could entangle my fingers with her hair, direct her moves as she sucks me off... I wish I could watch her work me with her mouth, how her head bobs up and down as she slides her tongue across my flesh...
With the greatest effort, I keep my eyes closed, the thrill of being at her mercy rising with the tension in my loins... Something sharp and cold scratches across my chest, a pattern edged into my skin, drawing blood... guess this should distrub me... but Maker! Combined with the pleasure Rori knows to give, the cuts make for an exquisite torture...
I am blissfully mindnumbed as she pushes me on and on towards my release... I am so close when she abandons me, causing me to snarl in frustration...
Suddenly there's four hands on my body, a different weight on top of me... a stranger... Morrigan... Rori's lips press against mine... a whipsered "I love you." and she's gone... A turmoil of panick and pleasure flashes through me... I open my eyes and there's pitch black darkness surrounding me.
Morrigan said the ritual has to be performed in the dark of night. No liar, she.
I cannot see the woman riding me, but I feel her, her thighs press against my hips, she sways hers in the slow ecstatic rhythm of her song, ancient words in a language long forgotten. Guttural sounds mixed with moans of pleasure, mine and hers. Unsuccessfully, I try to suppress them, feeling guilty for the pleasure this perversity causes. When Rori left me, I already was past the point of no return... I sense the power in the witchsong, how it seeps into me, filling me...
All of a sudden there's a reddish glow. First I cannot detect the source. Only when the glow becomes stronger, I see... thin threads of blood flowing away from my and Morrigan's body, mingling in narrow canals carved into the stone. The liquid travels past the ground and towards the monotliths. Only when the reddish liquid inflames the carvings on the ancient stone posts do I see it's entwined runes.
SHIT!!!
Morrigan has thrown her head back, her throat exposed, her back arched, she sways her hips mirroring the crescendo of her song. When she looks at me, her eyes have filled with blood and red tears pearl down her cheeks...
Creepy!
Mental note to myself: Never ever again agree to performing a magical sex rite with Morrigan. Or anybody else.
I am completely freaked out. My treacherous body doesn't give a damn, though. While my panicking mind screams at me to get the fuck out of here, my body goes YIPPIE-YAH-YEAH! the very moment Morrigan screams the last words of her incantation into the night, then collapses on top of me.
SWOOSH! All lights off and we're once more surrounded by pitch black darkness... It engulfs me into an abyss of oblivion.
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In good times and in bad

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Chapter Text