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Expecting	By : alisgal1 Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 7012 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Bioware Dragon Age characters. I make no money off of this. Alistair can own me any time, however.

Chapter List
- 1-Expecting
- 2-From Palace Ball to Memory Ln.
- 1
- 2
This story is also posted under my ff.net account under my pen name alisgal. The author mackillian edited this story for me.
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Love is something far more than desire for sexual intercourse;
it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness
which afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives."
~Bertrand Russell
Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine
12 Bloomingtide, 9:34 Dragon
Rosalyn Cousland, commanding officer of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, hoisted the body off her shoulder and placed the genlock down on the ground. The circle of new recruits who stood around her in the Keep's courtyard wore various looks of fright and disgust on their faces.
"Gentlemen, this is a genlock. Please take a close look and conquer your fear right here. Your mission is to go out and retrieve three vials of blood each. You leave tomorrow with Jareth and myself."
Jareth appeared next to her dumping a hurlock to the ground. "The smell never gets any better, and why must we always do this right before lunch? It always makes food seem so unappealing."
"Ah so you've figured out my master plan for keeping food in stock at the Keep. Make their stomachs turn right before meal time, and food might last longer than a week."
He scowled, letting her know that her quip was unappreciated. Rosalyn couldn't help but chuckle. Jareth was one of her newer recruits, and had cost her dearly to conscript him. Her irascible blond companion was sought out to replace Anders, who had flown the coop to Maker knew where nearly three years ago without so much as a note.
When she had gone to the Circle to replace Anders with a new healer, she had asked Flynn who griped the most about being in the Circle amongst the mages with healing skills. "Jareth," was the man's reply, the name flying from his lips without hesitation, a scowl on his face. When she had gone to visit the man in his dormitory, she found him in a heated debate with a Templar, his fingers in the warrior's face, shouting that he didn't give a damn about inspection; his items weren't to be touched. Rosalyn couldn't help the smile that spread across her face knowing she had just found her newest recruit.
She unsheathed her dagger, placing a small cut on her forearm. Walking fully into the room, she asked the Templar to excuse himself. Neither the mage nor Templar had previously seen her, both too engrossed in their fight. Rosalyn introduced herself, asking Jareth to heal her. While rolling his eyes, his hands wrapped around her arm, the heat of creation magic flowing through her arm. Rosalyn realized he was as talented as Anders.
When she offered him the position, she had put it plainly. Becoming a Grey Warden would be swapping out one prison for another. The only difference is that women or men (whatever he preferred) could never resist spending a night with a member of the Order. She told him the stories about legendary stamina were true. The tricky part would be finding the time for trysts.
His head had shifted sideways, his arms crossed, staring at her, before finally saying, "Then, I'm in."
The real battle came with the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter. Rosalyn was accused of allowing the Grey Wardens to be a haven for mages to hide from Chantry law. She reminded them both that they were alive thanks to her, and that the conversation was not open for debate. Rosalyn invoked the Right of Conscription; Jareth was leaving with her regardless of their opinions.
She knew that conscripting Jareth had just screwed her out of any more mage recruits for several years, thanks to Anders' move. As she left with him, watching his smug smile when he turned at the Circle doors to give the Knight Commander the middle finger, she prayed he'd make it through the Joining.
Rosalyn turned towards the new recruits and continued, "Now this is a hurlock. Notice the difference between the two. In the darkspawn army these two normally serve a very different function. What you will be focusing on today is how to collect the blood samples we need once you slay the darkspawn."
As soon as she finished, she saw the newly recruited Wardens all staring off to the right. They began quietly whispering like school children. As she turned in their direction, she saw what was stirring the commotion: Ferelden's banner was being carried with several guards huddled in tight formation.
She began kneeling down, bowing her head, and placing her hands across each other on her chest. The Wardens, realizing their commander had done so, all began dropping like stones to the ground to salute the king as well. She did not move a muscle out of position until she felt his presence above her.
"Warden Commander," he said with a voice that was far too gentle in sound.
"King Alistair, it is an honor, as always, to be graced with your presence."
"Please, arise."
Only then did she begin to stand, taking the hand that he produced immediately in assistance.
She turned to her recruits, who were all staring wide eyed and said, "Wardens, you are being blessed to meet the King of Ferelden today. He is a brother to all us Wardens and responsible for helping end the Blight."
The murmurings continued within the group.
"To what do we owe this honor, your Majesty?"
"Ah, well, you know me, old friend, any opportunity I can take to come see how the Wardens are doing, I try to jump on. Also, the reports that have been coming in are incoherent. I thought I'd come in person and discuss certain financial situations with you."
"Of course, your Majesty. Your will is my command. Jareth, would you mind stepping in?"
The acrimonious mage stood there, his hands raised in protest, complaining, "Oh sure, you get to go off with the king, kick your heels up, and drink some fine wine. Meanwhile, I get to sit and smell rotting corpses."
The silver-tongued rogue whispered in his ear that if he took over the lesson, she would put in a good word to their cook, Anabelle. Jareth had been flirting with the maiden for months to no avail.
Accepting the deal, he replied, "Fine, rotting corpses it is."
She walked away, leaving Jareth with the lesson as Alistair followed into the Keep proper.
As they walked down the long corridor to the Arlessa's office, Rosalyn could feel the king's eyes glued to her assets.
"Are you enjoying the view, your Majesty?" she asked coyly over her shoulder.
"Spectacular as always, Commander."
Her chuckle echoed through the stone hallway, alerting Rosalyn's second to her approach. He waited for her, standing outside her office.
"Captain Garavel."
"Yes, Commander." He bowed his head in servitude.
"The King and I need to discuss private matters of security in my office. No one is to interrupt us."
"Yes commander." It was understood between Garavel and Rosalyn that this was code for the two paramours desiring some time alone. It was common knowledge in the Keep that the commander and the king were lovers, although only spoken about in hushed conversations. Late at night, speculation abounded why Rosalyn never visited the king and always the other way around.
Out in Amaranthine, however, Rosalyn Cousland ruled with an iron fist, keeping law and order, not Anora Theirin. If the Warden King was who Rosalyn wished to scream herself hoarse while riding, no one saw any cause for complaint. Whoever made the commander smile bode well for them all in the Keep, down to the bedchamber maids.
"Also, the king's personal guards are to be shown to the kitchen for a hot meal and whatever other accommodations they require."
"Yes Commander." That was code for the king would be at least visiting overnight.
She walked into the room with Alistair following, closing the door behind them. Rosalyn turned around and gave a smile so large it illuminated the entire room.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in a soft voice, her deft hands already beginning to unfasten his armor.
"Do I need a reason to come?" he asked, grabbing her to place her on the desk. He began taking off her armor seeming thankful that she was wearing her dragon wing armor today; it was quicker to unlace and slide off. He began kissing her neck and breasts as she began to moan lightly. He moved down, yanking her boots and breeches off, while she had him already down to a tunic, trousers, and shoes.
"Alistair, the papers here on the desk, we need to move them. They are important," she said breathlessly.
He gave her a mischievous grin. "There just won't be enough time to move them, my love."
Her mouth opened to protest, but Alistair had already unlaced his trousers. With one swift move, their bodies were joined, and the argument that Rosalyn had on the tip of her tongue evaporated.
"I've missed you," he whispered into her ear as he began slowly taking her.
Rosalyn never brought up Anora, never made any glib comments to the effect of, "Oh, yeah. How's your wife?" She never shoved it in Alistair's face that he was married to Anora, while sneaking away to sleep with her whenever he could. She never brought it up, because the situation was all her doing.
She chuckled into his hair. "I can tell. Now be a good king and finish what you started."
While his one hand was wrapped securely around Rosalyn's waist, supporting her, the other was kneading her breast, raising it to his mouth. His tongue laved over her nipple, as she sharply inhaled. Her arm was wrapped securely around his neck, holding on for dear life, as her eyes closed. Her other hand rested on Alistair's chest. Her palm felt the hard panes of his pectoral muscles underneath, as well as the strongest muscle of all, his heart. She felt soothed at feeling the frantic beat of his heart, while his teeth began biting down on her nipple, his thrusts starting to increase with speed.
Her own breath was short now; she could feel herself nearing a climax.
Alistair's hands wrapped tightly around her waist, picking her up off the table and his erection. She was about to protest loudly. Maker, she had been so close. Before she could get a word out, he sat down on the desk's mahogany wood chair, pulling her down on top of him, sliding himself back inside her.
She let out a sigh of relief at feeling his hard cock fill her completely. He held her tightly, sliding her up and down his shaft. Rosalyn knew she would have bruises tomorrow from his hands' strong grip, but that was a concern for another day. The tips of her toes touched the cold, stone ground, and she used the leverage to help push herself up and down. Alistair's moans were deafening in her ear, as she could feel him swelling inside her. He had begun chanting her name reverently in her ear, her name being spoken over and again. Her hands were wrapped around him, holding him tightly to her, her nails digging in his back. The room disappeared from her eyesight, replaced with a blinding white. He was seconds behind her, as Rosalyn felt his seed spilling into her.
Her head collapsed into his chest as she tried to regain control of her erratic breathing. His hands laced around her body, holding her firmly in place. His fingertips began slowly running up and down her spine affectionately.
It had been short and sweet, but four months had already passed since their last night together.
As Rosalyn's heartbeat and breathing finally calmed, she looked up into her lover's hazel eyes. His lustful expression told Rosalyn that he was nowhere near done with her. This encounter had just taken the edge off, allowed him to concentrate properly until their next moments alone.
"Come on," Rosalyn shakily breathed out, while rising off of Alistair. "We need to get dressed and get back outside for now."
He nodded his head, rising off the chair, and began to redress with her.
That night, in honor of the King's appearance to Vigil's Keep, the Wardens threw a party. There was beer in every hand, talking, laughing, and more food than even the palace held. Alistair had spoken with many of the Wardens. Many faces he recognized, for he came to the post every six months or so, but many he did not. It seemed Rosalyn's recruiting efforts in the last year had been substantial. He began talking to a group of Wardens that had been recruited five months previous.
"So how do you like being a Grey Warden?" Alistair asked in casual conversation.
A short, buff man with a long, black beard answered, "It's the best thing that ever happened to me. My farm got overrun by darkspawn, and the Commander came by with a group of Wardens and hunted those bastards down. When she came back to check on the village around my farmland, I asked her if I could join. I had served in the army for a while, and I must admit, the training was shit on a stick compared to what I received here. I thought myself rather skilled, but my first day here, I got my arse handed to me by none other than the commander. She told me to shove my arrogance where the sun don't shine and learn how to really fight. It was two weeks before I could sit without pain from all the bruising. You should really talk to your generals about taking some tips from the Commander here about soldier training. Trust me, the army could use it."
Alistair laughed. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
He looked over to another man of slender build carrying a longbow that reached his calves.
"And what about you? What do you think about the Wardens?"
"Well, I owe the Commander my life. My wife and I were having trouble getting by, and when I found out she was pregnant, well, I lost it a little. I went out to Denerim to cut purses, so she'd have enough to eat. I was caught and stayed in the cell for two weeks. The Commander showed up because apparently she and the captain there in Denerim are chummy. He sent word that I'd possibly be a good recruit. She brought me here to Vigil's Keep, and told me I'd become a Grey Warden. When I asked her what would happen to my wife, she assured me all would be taken care of. I hardly slept I was so upset, but then I got this here note two weeks later from my lady." The man pulled out a note from inside his armor showing the king that he carried the parchment with him. "The commander wrote to my wife and told her of the situation. She had even sent money to my wife and had a crib made for her. I couldn't believe it. My wife will be coming here shortly after the baby is born for a visit, you know."
The man gave Alistair a wink and a nudge on the shoulder.
"Congratulations on your wife's pregnancy." Alistair fought to keep the enthusiasm in his voice.
Nights such as this one were Alistair's favorite, when people would candidly tell him about his commander and what she did when he was not around. He talked to as many Grey Wardens as possible until it was clear the drinking had been going on for too long and most were no longer coherent.
This became apparent when the men had their arms around each other's shoulders singing, "Long live the Commander! For she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny!" They clanked their glasses together, drank, while half fell down drunk, and the other half laughed themselves to tears.
Alistair didn't bother telling them that their commander was certainly not a fellow. In fact, she had a body so beautiful that Andraste herself would be envious. If the Maker saw Rosalyn, he'd want himself a new bride. These thoughts made him long for her, so he began searching the Keep.
He finally walked into the commander's office to find her standing there with Oghren. The two were peering down at a piece of parchment in his hand while she spoke.
"It's a good start, but I don't think you should tell the boy exactly how darkspawn eat the flesh off a human corpse. The boy is just over three, now, after all. Why don't you tell him about the time we fought the high dragon, how big it was, and how you took the final blow to its neck? I think that's a much better story."
He heard Oghren chuckling. "Hey, you're right. That was a pretty good story. I'll tell him all about how his daddy beat the sod out of a fearsome dragon with one hand behind his back."
Seeing the scene before him, Alistair remembered the story of Felsi showing up, demanding to know what Oghren would do for their child. Rosalyn had talked to him about the situation and convinced him to play a role in his child's life. She now proofread for him every week letters he would send to his son, and held on to his stipend and sent it to Felsi. Clearly, the child should be grateful she was proof reading those letters. That is, if he ever wanted to sleep again at night.
"Sounds good. Now, if you'll excuse me, old friend, I believe the king needs to speak to me."
The dwarf began laughing uncontrollably.
"Needs to speak to you, right. I get it. Don't have to tell me twice."
He walked over to Alistair and jabbed him in the gut before saying, "Better take care of her good tonight. I want her in a sodding great mood for at least a week after."
With that, he walked out as Rosalyn shook her head. Alistair walked over to where she was sitting, looking over paperwork, and drinking flavored ale.
"Have you been enjoying the festivities?" she asked lovingly.
He nodded his head. "You know how I love to hear stories about what's going on out in the field. It makes me wish for the good old days."
She threw her head back and laughed. "That was many lifetimes ago, love. Now you get to sit on a throne and have men kiss your arse and tell you how special you are. Tell me," she asked with a wicked glint in her eyes, "do you still even remember how to work that sword of yours?"
He growled in her ear. "I can handle it just fine. I'd be happy to give you a demonstration."
As he began fondling her breasts, his fingers slipping in under her armor, he began sucking on her ear.
"I must ask you for a favor, love," he told her in between open-mouthed kisses down her neck.
With one eyebrow raised, she asked, "I'm not going to like it, am I? I can already tell."
"The nobles desire your presence in court. They have not seen you for some time, and want your presence to feel reassured Ferelden is safe. The court is having a ball in two weeks' time. Please come to represent the Grey Wardens and Amaranthine."
Trying to regain her voice through his assault of kisses, she replied, "On one condition. I'll come and play at the ball if you take care of me so well tonight that I'm in a good mood for two weeks, not one."
He smiled at her before replying, "What can I say? Your wish is my command."
He picked Rosalyn up and carried her out of the office to her own personal quarters, kissing her languidly along the way. The guards that were on duty outside her door looked straight ahead, never moving, and never acknowledging what was just seen. The guards ended up, however, eventually clearing the entire left wing of the second floor when the moans inside the commander's quarters became screams, which then turned to words, and finally commands.
It was mid-day already when they woke, the sun valiantly attempting to shine through the heavily draped windows. Alistair made love to her one last time before eating breakfast and leaving to return to Denerim. As he kissed her good-bye, he reminded her, "Two weeks."
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Expecting