310 réponses à ce sujet

[Gilgamesh1138]

ROFL! OH Ali is so sexy when he **** slaps Anora for talking down to him! GO Ali! *fans self*

[SRWill64]

I really love this story! Keep up the good work! And...as always...looking forward to the next chapter.

[Maria13]

Chapter 14

DA 9:32
Pluitanis/Guardian

Denerim

“… but the bedding is an integral part of the marriage ceremony…”

“Yes, I get that but since we’re not going to… anyway, can’t we just sort of skip it?”

“It is tradition, Alistair, and we very much survive on tradition. If we ‘skip it’ as you suggest, there will be at least two adverse consequences. One, we will be seen to make a mockery of the fact that we are getting married in the first
instance, and thus indirectly cause offence to the Chantry.  Secondly, and more seriously, it will arouse suspicion that there will be no heirs conceived between us, which in turn will undermine our status as monarchs.  We will become fair game for any jumped up tyrn, arl or bann with a brace of children and there are not a few of those.”

“So I get to wear a nightdress…”

“Well, is that not better that going naked? Besides, Cailan did it… So now, who are your groomsmen…”

Alistair told her.

“You cannot have an assassin and an Antivan, as your groomsman…” she said making the second sound
worse than the first.

“For all his faults, Anora, and believe you me he has a few that might make even your hair curl, he is not only an assassin and an Antivan but he was one of the companions.  One of the fighters that helped end the
Blight, he was on the roof of Fort Drakon with us…”

“Then choose someone else… more appropriate as a counterbalance.”

 

“Did I not tell you, Alistair, that as soon as you became King you would have need of my services…”

“Yes, but it’s not those services I need.”

“More’s the pity, I would have been prepared to quote you a special discounted rate for my first commission… Still, I am quite happy to keep that offer open should you happen to change your mind. But since you are now getting married perhaps you require some advice…”

“No, I don’t need that either…”

“Are you sure now?”

“Absolutely positive. I just need you to be my groom of the bedchamber.”

“You mean I am to escort you to the bedchamber…”

“Yes…”

“Ensure you get into bed with the queen…”

“Yes…”

“And then leave…”

“Exactly.”

“But couldn’t I wait around a little while? Once the curtains have been drawn, of course, I would be very quiet. I have never attended a royal coupling before…”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Perhaps I could listen at the door a bit then?”

“No.”

“You are a very cruel man, Alistair, to deny others their pleasures so.”

“I do not deny others their pleasures I just don’t see why they should vicariously enjoy mine, especially you…  In any event nothing is going to happen…” As those words tripped out of his mouth, a thought struck him, “perhaps there is something extra you can do for me after all…”

 

“We never had chance to thank you, I understand you came to the chapter house and spoke personally to Konrad on our behalf…”

“Oh” said Wynne, “it was nothing, I simply engaged him in some friendly conversation and made some points I felt needed to be made…”

“Nevertheless…” and for the upteenth time that awful evening she felt his eyes on her, she turned around and espied him at the head of the table, half a world away across the crowded hall, he lifted his glass towards her she waved back.

“How is he taking it?” Enquired Wynne.

“He hates it, he is hating every moment of it… I wish now there had been a way to spare him this.” And she opened her arms encompassing the entire hall and all the people in it.

“Well” said Wynne, “today will pass and other days will come.  There are always things we are obliged to do against our own inclinations, especially kings…  That dress does suit you…”

“This” said Neriya, “is raw silk…” She said, picking up the skirt and releasing it disdainfully again. “I do not know how much it cost.  Good money wasted in my view, but he chose it.  He had me there while he was discussing his wedding attire with the dressmaker and then he asked her what she had for me…” 

 
When Neriya had protested Alistair bid the dressmaker and her assistants excuse them a moment.  Once they had absented themselves from the room, he had turned to one of the swatch books they had left, opened it, and remarked “I like this one, don’t you?” when she had demurred he had slapped the book closed and said:

“Neriya Surana.  I am King now and apparently, you, my erstwhile leader, the hero of Ferelden and my Councillor, are now my mistress…  Would that it were not so, would that we both were just plain grey wardens again, would that I were planning my wedding to you and not to… that woman, but that is not how things are. Those were our choices and we took them. We must both abide by them now. We need to be clear, like it or not, what you do, say, and even how you dress reflects on me…”

“Then dress me yourself, Alistair…” she had snapped.

“I should not have spoken to you so harshly, but, very well. I had hoped you would humour me…”

She had told him what he could do with his hope on that count and he had shrugged.

 
“…certainly…” she said casting her eye over the thronged grand hall “red does not appear to be a popular colour with the other ladies.”

Wynne smiled, “You don’t know, do you?  Together with the invitations there was an extremely polite, well-composed, note, beseeching that none of the ladies wear red…”

“Oh”

“He reminds me of Maric” said Wynne,

“You met Maric?”

“Everyone met Maric, when he was in one of his sociable moods, he would go out of his way to meet people…”

“Was Maric handsome?”

“Look over there,” said Wynne gesturing in Alistair’s direction, “is he handsome?”

“Of course he is…”

“The apple does not fall far from the tree…”

Neriya turned back to her, “Wynne,” she said, “although you have already done so much for us, I have something else to ask of you…”

 

“Gotcha” he said as he pulled her into an alcove and from there quickly bundling her into a tiny side room. 

“Ughhh!” she said slightly winded.

“Sorry…” he said smoothing down her hair, “I just managed to get away from them all… Had to take advantage.”

“But you are getting married…”

“Technically, I’m already married… Remember this morning? The chapel, the reverend mother, Anora in white gloves? I’ve just yet to be bedded… But before that… You really do look stunning in that dress, you know…  I
have such good taste.”

She touched his cheek. “I am sorry Alistair…”

“That’s a yes, right?” He kissed her, pulling her to him with one hand and placing the other on her breast.

“You are totally out of order…” she gasped.

“Not half”, he said, “not half” reaching down for the hem of her dress.

 

“Well,” said Zev, As Alistair who had almost forcibly compelled them to turn their backs to him, started to tug off his clothes with not a little vehemence, “a propos of this I assume you are familiar with what they say about large men. In Antiva…”

“Oh,” replied Teagan, “we have the selfsame saying here in Ferelden, if I get your drift.”

“And I do assure you it is true, in the course of my many adventures I have carried out numerous observations that confirm it.” Teagan’s right eyebrow crept a little higher towards his hairline.

Zev continued undaunted “Both you and I, my friend, are fairly… compact, and therefore, have nothing to envy. But obviously, Alistair here...”

“I can hear you, you Antivan ne’er do well.  Sowing trouble as usual.  And you, Teagan, should be ashamed of yourself for playing along, I thought better of you.  I am not… small.  Definitely not small.  Really, really not small… And I would be more than happy to give you both a demonstration if were not a breach of decorum, would not give Zev blissful dreams for several weeks and I were not currently feeling… indisposed…”

“Methinks,” remarked Teagan, “he doth protest too much.”

“Indeed.” Concurred Zev, “if he did not have some deficiency, some shortcoming, for which to compensate, would he really need to talk so much about it, and so loudly?”

“You can stop yakking both of you and turn around now…” said Alistair finishing pulling on the gown, “I bet I look like a total ****** in this thing and big girl’s blouse all rolled into one.” He said opening his arms.

Zevran and Teagan
tried for a few minutes to keep straight faces and then cracked up.

“Right, that tells me everything I need to know.” He said tersely, “Zev, my medicine…”

Zev passed Alistair a flask that he took from his tunic and Alistair took several long gulps and then handed it back to him, suddenly looking a little glazed and nearly keeling over.  Zev moved quickly to prop him up.  “Assist me Teagan, he is rather heavy” they both supported him.

“Maker,” said Teagan, “what is that stuff?”

“Absenta… if you cannot hold your liquor well, like our friend Alistair, I would recommend
taking only a tiny sip.” And Zev proffered it to him.

“I can… hold…” said Alistair, “… but not this… stuff…”

They both ignored him. Teagan took the flask very carefully opened it and sniffed. It smelt of a variety of herbs, like a fresh morning meadow.  He could recognize some of them and even name them. Others, while tantalizingly familiar, he could not quite identify, although the sweet smell of aniseed slightly predominated over them all. Finally, there was a dash of citrus and something completely unfamiliar contributed, a grown-up, bitter edge to the whole concoction. 

Teagan did take a sip, how could he resist? But it was a tad too sweet for him even though he could recognise the complexity of the brew in a bare mouthful.  Suddenly Alistair was reaching out for the flask again. 

“Alistair, are you sure? You are going to incapacitate yourself…” said Teagan.

From under Alistair’s other arm the Antivan delicately rolled his eyes at him.

Teagan, the eternal bachelor, felt a sudden pang of sadness and thrust the flask towards Alistair, “Very well. Don’t drink too much, though…” he said testily, “you don’t want to do yourself permanent harm…”

They opened the chamber door and struggled into the passageway, then, almost miraculously Alistair found his legs again, although he needed to hold himself up against the wall, at least it afforded Teagan and Zev some respite. 

He looked bleary-eyed down the corridor and saw Neriya in the red dress standing where they had agreed, he raised his hand and she raised hers in return looking distressed.  For a moment he thought her could see her very clearly but then she appeared to melt and become just a red smear on the eager lens of his eye.  He attempted a brave smile, but was really too far gone to carry that off properly.

So he turned away and tried as best he could to walk in a straight line down the hallway, with Zev and Teagan wearily either side of him in case he should list.

The bedchamber when they got there was full of candles and people. When he entered, walking cautiously, there was a round of applause and a few shouts of long live the King. Everything kept going in and out of focus as if it were moving very fast or very slowly in intermittent bursts of blurred brightness.

He smiled like an idiot and held up his hand as he had done with Neriya and as far as he could tell, it seemed everyone else was smiling back and returning his salutation.  Someone placed a glass of white wine in his hand and Teagan and Zev ushered him diligently towards the bed.  He noticed that loose, Anora’s blonde hair fell well below her shoulders almost to her waist.  She too was holding a glass and, looking at him coolly, even took a sip from it.  He
tried to do the same but somehow managed to miss his mouth and ended spilling wine on the bed.

“Ooops, Alistair, too soon, calma, we know how willing you are…” said Zev, damn him, he thought vaguely.

The sheets were pulled back and he was eased into the bed. “Just hold on, just hold on, Alistair…” murmured Zev and it suddenly struck him that for all his brazenness, the unflappable Antivan assassin was actually more nervous than he.  He held that thought for a while because it was actually quite amusing.

Someone approached the foot of the bed and he realised it was a reverend mother reciting the appropriate sections of the Chant.

Once that was over everyone started yelling, “Kiss! Kiss!”

He felt something touch his cheek and made a half-hearted effort to shoo it away before realising it was Anora’s hand and that she was gently turning his face towards hers.  He closed his eyes. Then, hand still in place, he felt Anora put her lips delicately against his and keep them there, utterly immobile, for a few beats.

It seemed that everybody applauded and then it was no with no small sense of relief that he began to feel everything go slowly out of focus and fade away.  He sank back on to the pillow as on his side Teagan and Zev began to pull the curtains closed and Anora’s maids on hers.

“We should leave them to it…” he heard Teagan’s voice say and he became aware for a moment that he was lying back and then he saw Anora’s face hovering over him and then, for a while, everything went blank…

 

“You are drunk.” She said a few hours later when he ev entually came to.

“Stinking…” he agreed amicably.

“Well you said it,” she hissed, “just like Cailan”

“Cailan? But I thought you two…”

She snorted, “Of course we did, but not on our wedding night…”

“Ha,” he said staring intensely at the canopy of the bed, “that’s actually kinda funny, now I’m lying here… I didn’t know him very well, I think we barely exchanged two words.  But when I saw him at Ostagar, from a distance, of course, he seemed, so self-confident, so kingly, so… altogether… I guess it could’ve been the armour.  A good suit of armour can dress a guy up so much.  But then…” 

There was a long pause, she began to wonder whether he had dropped off again when suddenly his hands flew to his head, “Oh f**… F***, f***…”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be sick…  There’s a chamber pot under…”

“No, it’s not that.” He said suddenly sounding very serious and sober, “I never told you, I should have told you…”

“Told me what?”

“I, I mean we, found him…  I am sorry, we found him, I mean we found his body… We went back to Ostagar a few months after the battle and…” he took a breath, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, “long version or short version?”

“Long version.”

“OK, well we got some sort of tip-off … and since we were in the area Wynne, Neriya, Zev and I went back to the battlefield to see if there was anything worth retrieving… As it turns out, there wasn’t really… Just the odd weapons, armour, helpful but not earth-shattering.  There were a few darkspawn hanging around, we killed those, of course. Are you sure you really want to know…”

“By the Maker…”

“Right. Well sometimes the darkspawn make a sort of… display of their victims… one day I’ll have to go through what we think we know about the darkspawn,” he mumbled almost to himself, “anyway, not to beat about the bush, they placed his body on a sort of column along the ramparts.   I recognised him, even from a distance, I recognised him straightaway… We all did.” He paused, “have you ever been to Ostagar?”

“No.”

“You… We should go there sometime, sometime soon…”

“I think it was obvious they’d singled him out because they realised he was important… He was virtually unclothed. As I said, the weather was cold, very cold, had been for months… I recognised him instantly.  I couldn’t leave him or what was left of him there, like that… Zev, who’s a bit more agile than me, clambered up and unfastened him, I stood below and helped lower him… When I held him, saw him up close… It was a bit of a shock… At first I didn’t understand why but then it hit me.  He looked like me, just like me…”

He stopped for a moment recalling how in that instant, about a year ago now, struggling under Cailan’s weight, he had glanced over at Neriya and saw her appalled expression as the same thought dawned on her.

“Did he…”

“From what I could tell, no, no I don’t think so, not very much.” He sat up, suddenly it seemed wrong to speak of such things comfortably lying down, “Of course there’s no such thing as an easy death, but…  He was damaged, injured, I mean.  He had a deep gash on the left side of his chest,” As he said this, one of his hands involuntarily gravitated towards the left side of his own chest, “he’d obviously bled a lot and he was pretty battered about.  When we got him to the ground, we covered him and then we gathered what we could from around the area to make a pyre and laid
him out on it…”

Alistair recollected how just before lighting the pyre he had surprised himself by lowering the blanket covering Cailan, looking at his ravaged, eyeless, face one last time and, regardless, kissed him on the forehead.

“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure,
What you have created, no-one can tear asunder.”

 “I said some verses from one of the canticles, wished him safe passage to the Maker’s side and lit the pyre…”  He sighed. “Afterwards I collected some of the ashes and tied them up in a rag…  I didn’t really have anything else on me at the time.  They might still be among my belongings, I had my stuff stashed in a room here about two months’ ago.  Haven’t had a chance to go through it yet.  If I find them, I’ll give them to you, if you wish.”

He looked over at Anora lying next to him.  One of her hands was covering her eyes.

“I am sorry, I am truly sorry…  This is a bummer of a conversation to have on your wedding night.” He got up.

“Our wedding night,” she corrected him.

“Yes, right.”  He made to leave the room.

“Tell me,” she said, as he opened the door “Do you love her?”

“Yes, I do,” he said, “I love her more than my life…” and he shut the door softly behind him as he left.

 

 

Modifié par Maria13, 12 juin 2010 - 07:07 .

[Gilgamesh1138]

Wonderful! I love him telling her about Cailan. Maria, I love your Ali so! More please!

[Maria13]

Be warned: Mature content.

Heartfelt thanks to Kissychan and Gilgamesh for beta'ing the different parts.  You are great, guys.


Chapter 15

DA 9:30 Camp near Lake Calenhad/DA 9:32 Pluitanis/Guardian Denerim

"I really don't want to wait anymore. I've…I've never done this before. You know that. I want it to be with you…while we have the chance. In case…" began Alistair.

As he squatted down and began to pull of his armour, he recalled his own words spoken barely half an hour ago. As usual, he had problems with his right rerebrace and started tugging at it impatiently.

"Let me help," said Neriya. She slipped her small fingers in the interstices between the brace and the breastplate, and deftly unbuckled it.

"Thanks," he said. Alistair caught her hand just as she was about to withdraw it, and stroked gently it with the back of his thumb. "Such a pretty hand," he said, running his lips over it.

Once he had disassembled his armour, it lay in an untidy pile in the corner of his tent.  As he stood in his linen trousers and his doublet, he suddenly realised that he had never kissed her bare of his armour. He noted that he was already quite excited. As the implications of this thought struck him, he glanced back nervously towards her. It seemed pretty clear that the time for a kiss had arrived. So he turned to her and put his lips on hers. He carefully avoided pulling her as close to him as he usually did.

He need not have bothered. She stepped into his arms, and he felt her body up close against his as he had never felt it before. Undoubtedly, she felt his hardness. When they took a quick break from their embrace, she smiled up at him, which he found a tad disconcerting.

"Let's take this off," Neriya said, pulling at his doublet.

" All right," he said, allowing her to move around him and lower it down his arms.

"And the chemise," she said, "Off, off, off…"

"Okay, okay! Patience," said Alistair, pulling it over his head while trying not to disarrange his hair too much.

Bare-chested was fine, he told himself. She'd seen him bare-chested before, when he was injured. Indeed, the first thing she did was carefully examine the finger-length wound on the left side of his stomach, just above his waist.

"This seems to be healing well," she said, plucking at it lightly. "I still remember you whimpering, as I sewed it closed three days ago."

"That wasn't whimpering,” Alistair said, “those were manly protestations…"

"Sounded just like whimpering to me," Neriya replied.

But it also felt somewhat…charged, especially when she ran the palm of her hand just above the surface of his chest. Her fingers riffled the hairs there; she then lay her cheek against it, and tried to put her arms around him.

"I can't even wrap my arms fully around you…" she said from below.

"I can't help that," he said.

"No, it is good," she said. "It feels right."

"Now you," he suggested. She obediently turned around, and he began to untie the laces at the back of her robe as best he could. As he did so, he bent down and gently kissed the nape of Neriya's neck. She shivered slightly under Alistair's lips.

"Do you like that?" Alistair asked.

"Very much," Neriya replied.

Alistair slipped his bare arms under Neriya's loosened dress, and encircled her waist. Emboldened, he pulled Neriya close and kissed her soundly, while she purred approvingly in the back of her throat.

After a while she turned around and lowered her robe, leaving her clad in her smallclothes. His mouth went dry.

As he seemed indecisive, she reached behind her back and undid her breast wrap, letting it drop to the ground.

"Kiss me again, please" she said, and at the same time took his right hand and put it on one uncovered breast.

Alistair kissed her mouth as he gently cupped her breast. He felt Neriya squirm and catch her breath as he did so. She nipped his lower lip briefly and he moved his mouth to the side of her neck. He stopped then and put his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. His hand still tenderly clasped her breast.

"I never thought I'd get to do this…"

"I think you'll be fine," she breathed, "Perhaps you should carry on…"

"Oh, well," he replied, "Since you're asking…"

He lowered his mouth to her breast and began to tug and tease the hardened tip with his lips and tongue.

After a while Neriya pushed Alistair off, as he protested mildly.

"No" she said, "I just need you to do the other one…"

He grinned briefly at her and set to it. Neriya closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and started moaning quietly.

Eventually he stopped. "I really could do that all night," he said. "Most of the day, too. If I really had to…"

Neriya smiled at him and put her lips against his and then she placed her hand on his hips and slipped them inside his breeches. Alistair jumped when she first touched him and almost stepped away. Sensing his hesitation, Neriya pulled his breeches and smallclothes down at the same time, taking him in as she crouched to do so. She stood, and ran her hands over and around him and along his length. He bowed his head and rested his hands on her shoulders. Alistair breathed deeply, his fingers flexing slightly as she touched him.

After a while, he grasped her wrists and pulled her hands away. "I think you should stop doing that," he said quietly.

"Why?" she murmured.

"Because I'm not sure how much longer I can take it. As I've said, I've never done this before, and…well, I'm uncertain what my limits might be."

She nodded, briefly licking her lips. "Fair enough."

"If you want, we can stop now," Alistair continued. "You don't have to go through with this…"

Neriya shook her head, mystified. "Why in the world would I want to stop?"

"I mean, I might not be right for you…"

"Why do you think that?" said Neriya.

"Well, because…" said Alistair, and he made a vague gesture with his hand.

She stepped back andtook him in. Without clothes he was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, especially flushed with modesty. He was… Neriya realised that she did not have much to compare him against but, nonetheless, a frisson of excitement ran through her.

"Are you all right?" Alistair asked nervous under her scrutiny and then, "Am I…"

"You are so wrong," Neriya said shaking her head, "I desire you very much. You are…" she searched for the right word, "… superb."

"Great, well…" he said, not sounding too convinced.

"My turn," said Neriya.

"Yes, I think it is," he said, sounding slightly relieved.

Neriya stood before Alistair and took his larger hands in hers. She guided them to her hips, and allowed him to hook his thumbs into the sides of her smallclothes.

He bent down, slid them to her ankles, and remained very still for a few seconds at her feet.

"Um…" she said.

"Sorry," he said, slowly rising. "I was just…can I?"

Neriya nodded. "Yes."

Alistair took a deep breath, and tenderly touched her between her legs.

"You're very…"

"Yes," Neriya said.

"Is that because…"

"Yes," she repeated.

"Right," he said.

She clasped his wrist. "Let's go and sit on the bed, shall we?"

"All right." Alistair let Neriya lead him the very short distance to his cot. They sat on the bed and, almost without intending to, turned towards each other and kissed. Alistair cupped the smoothness of her cheeks with his somewhat
rough palms.

"Well, that still works for me…" he said, sounding slightly surprised.

"For me, too."

"I suppose," said Alistair, "we have to give it a bit of a shake…I mean, conceivably, we could sit here all night and just chat and cuddle or something, yes? But the others are all going to talk now anyway, so it would be stupid not to try, I think."

"I would agree."

Neriya lay back onto the cot, and opened her legs. Alistair crawled over Neriya's body, and knelt between her knees. "Maker’s breath you are beautiful," he said to her. He leaned closer, and planted a gentle kiss on the angle of her jaw.
Alistair then propped himself on one hand, as he reached between his own legs to guide himself home. To his mortification, he could not quite find entrance.

He looked at Neriya, his face flushed. "Oh, this is embarrassing… I can't seem to…"

She reached down and grasped him. "There," Neriya said, pulling Alistair to her.

"Maker assist me, yes…" he said sliding into her.
 
After a moment, he became aware of a slight obstruction. "What's this…?" he said, hesitating. "I see…"

Alistair stopped moving then, poised just inside her. He propped himself up with his forearms to either side of Neriya's head, and gazed into her eyes under his lashes, his face taut. "I am going to hurt you, aren't I?"

She reached up and gently stroked his cheek. "You are so handsome when you look concerned."

He blinked. "Are you really sure you want me to do this?"

She held his gaze for a few moments "Alistair, of all the men in the world, you are my choice to do this."

He glanced away for a moment and sensed a light flush creeping into his cheeks. He looked back down at her. "Very well."

Alistair pulled back a little and then thrust forward, feeling her tense and then buckle under him. Neriya's belly pushed tightly against his, and her legs folded under his thighs and chest.

"Oh!" she cried, as he felt something give way inside her. Neriya's hands clenched against Alistair's shoulders as she convulsed.

He faltered.

"No," she gasped, "carry on. This will pass soon enough."

"It just seems wrong, that you should…" he began, catching his breath.

"Listen, you," she said as she ran her hand through his  hair. She yanked it by the roots and made Alistair look at her. "I want you to enjoy yourself, to enjoy me."

He smiled uncertainly: "I am. You feel… I can’t…"

Neriya released him and Alistair began moving within her again. She moved with him. He established a rhythm, as he moved deep inside her. She began to emit little groans and noises which he found strangely reassuring. Suddenly he seemed to lose the cadence again.

"Soon, now…" he rasped feeling a tug deep inside his groin.

In the heat of the moment, Neriya pulled Alistair tight against her.

Instinctively, Alistair forced himself into Neriya as far as he could go. His body tensed as his eyelids fluttered, "Oh Maker, oh…"and he reared back as pleasure took him for the first time in a lover’s arms, Alistair felt himself seize and
release deep inside her.

"I love you," he said, unable to contain himself. "I love you…"

 

Afterward, Neriya pressed her face against Alistair's chest, listened to his deep, steady heartbeat, and began to shake.

"Are you all right? I didn't hurt you too much?" Alistair said wrapping his arms around her protectively. There was an odd intonation to his words.

Neriya pulled her face away from his torso and looked up at him. "It's very strange. I hurt, I’m a little sore, but I enjoyed it, too. It's difficult to explain. What about you?"

"I…I never thought anything could feel that good. I never believed it was possible to feel so much pleasure. I… thank you."

 

Some time later, when their hearts had both slowed a little, Alistair looked down at himself. "Oh, there's some blood on me… I'm sorry."

"Show me," she said.

"Look here, it's nothing… Just a few drops"

Neriya got up and retrieved a wash cloth from a small basin in the corner of the tent. Alistair sat up on the edge of the cot. Kneeling in front of him when she wiped him down she saw that he had began to harden again. “This is what you do to me, Neriya” he murmured. “This is all your fault…” He said arching his back sensually. Neriya didn’t answer him immediately but turned, tossed the cloth into the basin and began kissing his swollen flesh with unbridled passion.

Before Alistair could adequately respond, Neriya had wrestled him to the cot, climbed on top of him, held his wrists down and was kissing his mouth with the same ardour, "Alistair" she said: "Every last bit of you, is mine. Every atom
of your being, mine…"

"Neriya,” he said, when he was able to speak between the kisses that tasted of both of them “Whatever you want, whatever you say… I surrender… I am yours"

 

That night was the first of many spent in each other's arms. When they woke the next morning, a little later than usual, they stepped cautiously between the debris of their lovemaking, attempting to make some rational sense of what had happened to them and the chaotic state of the tent with clothes and armour strewn everywhere.

They washed each other and then began to help each other dress as if this were something they had been doing all their lives.

Neriya felt her skin tingle in response when Alistair ran his lips over her neck again and whispered softly, “now I know a few more things about you…” as he was lacing up her robe.


“And I about you, of course,” she remarked matter-of-factly, catching his eye and then glancing downwards towards his loins, whilst carefully adjusting his breastplate a few moments later.

Neriya was on her knees checking the fastening of his leg armour when Alistair added “You have given me so much.” “No, Alistair” she said as he helped her up.  “It was an exchange. An exchange of equal value.”

They kissed, closing their eyes and taking their time to tease other with their tongues, making sure that when their lips eventually drew apart they were both left slightly unsatisfied. Almost breathless after the kiss Neriya said “A Templar’s virtue for that of a Mage, that is a fair exchange.” She offered him his shield.  Alistair accepted it and slung it over his
shoulder.

“Turn around,” said Alistair, “a fair exchange… That’s a good way of putting it,” he observed as he secured her staff to her back.

“It will make us stronger for what is to come, I think.” Neriya said.

Finally, Neriya held out his sword to him, “fight well today, Alistair, because tonight you are mine again.”

“Oh I will, I will.” Alistair replied wrapping his gauntleted hand gently around hers, so for a brief moment they were holding it together.

 

Since the pain coursing through her joints seemed to wake her close to dawn every day, it often fell to Gertrude to attend to the chapel early in the morning. She did not mind, she found the light exercise of sweeping tidying and setting up often eased the stiffness that seemed to have settled in her limbs overnight, and she enjoyed the solitude and quiet more than she really should. 

So she was quite contentedly humming to herself as she went to reach for the broom in the little corner cupboard when she noticed there was someone sitting on the pews a few rows back from the altar.  She sighed.

She walked to the front of the chapel.  Ah, well, this was unexpected… it was him.  The new one.  In her well-nigh forty years working here she could count on the fingers of one hand the times that one of the “big people” as she mockingly called them to herself had come to seek counsel or consolation. 

“Can I help you or do you just want to be alone a little while?”

Alistair looked up, slightly dazed, he wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep, his memories of his first night with Neriya had seemed so intense.  Could you dream a memory? He wasn’t sure.  Anyway he collected himself and addressed the small fragile lady looking down at him. “Sorry to trouble you so early but I have a question…”

“A question…”

“You’re reverend mother Gertrude, right? I was told that I could find you here quite early, you have a certain reputation…”

“Very flattering, I’m sure… but probably not deserved…” she said taking a seat in the pew in front of him.

“It’s about Andraste…” he said.

“Andraste”

“Yes, her… I don’t know whether you know, you probably don’t, but I was schooled in the abbey for a few years, I was going to become a Templar…”

“I didn’t”, she said, “so…”

“I hated it,” he cut in, “every single, living moment of it, hated it…” His hands clasped in front of him tightened. She tried to make out his face but it was difficult, partly because of her poor eyesight and the dawn gloom and partly because he kept it down, looking at the floor in front of him.

“I see…” she replied hoping that this wouldn’t turn into some kind of rant.  Sometimes that happened, people got bitter or disappointed and would take it out on the Maker and his representatives.
 
“Sorry,” he said, “but I’ve always liked Andraste… First because she was a Fereldan, goes without saying, really. Then because she was a woman, and I like women. Okay that sounds really crass… I never knew my mother… 
That sounds self-pitying, which it probably is… Ugh!” He ran one of his hands through his hair impatiently. “Also because she was a fighter, a warrior.  She knew what it was to go into battle, to be injured, to lose those you love… I can identify with that, I identify with that more than ever now… And finally, she was brave. Once she was captured she knew what was going to happen, she must have been so frightened…”

“Please carry on.” Gertrude said gently, somewhat intrigued.

“I wanted to be like her.” He blurted “Ever since I was a child I wanted to face my test and face it bravely and I always thought I would.  I was so confident I would pass and be brave… But when the time came I failed, I couldn’t go through with it… Turns out I’m a coward after all. The type of person I despise…” He took a deep breath, “So here’s my question.  What would have happened if Andraste had refused to go through with it? I mean, what would have happened if she’d gotten wind of Maferath’s plan to ambush her and turn her over to the Archon and she’d… I don’t know… run away?”

“I like your question,” said Gertrude, “I’m not sure you’re aware that there are certain… traditions that say just that, that she knew what was going to happen but she nevertheless put her faith in the Maker and accepted her fate.  They are not generally well known, it’s something to meditate on… But to answer your question: The Maker would have
found a way…”

“What do you mean?”

“He would have found someone else, perhaps.  The Chantry may not have been exactly as we know it today, but its fundamentals would have been the same…”

“But what would have happened to Andraste, how would the Maker have punished her?”

“Why do you think he would have punished her?”

“Well she didn’t obey… She refused His request, I guess, she…”

“One of the basic tenets of our creed is free will.  My view would be, if she had run away she would simply be exercising her free will. Obviously we would not venerate her throughout Thedas as we do today, but likewise, I doubt she would have been punished… Why do you ask?”

“Oh for the most banal, pitiful, pathetic, wretched reason of all… She … left… me…” He groaned and then started to cry.

Gertrude wasn’t entirely sure what she was seeing here, whether the outburst was anger, grief or self-loathing or all of those things rolled into one.  She was about to say that she hadn’t been aware that the Queen had left Denerim but fortunately managed to bite her foolish old tongue just in time.  It wasn’t the Queen, of course, but the lover, and now she remembered her, the little elven mage in the beautiful red dress standing so still and grief struck in the
shadows at the back of the chapel that day some two weeks ago. 

Gertrude had seen her there because she was acting as usher rather than officiant at the royal wedding.  They had brought in some flamboyant Reverend Mother from Amaranthine or somewhere of that ilk. Very fashionable
and attractive in appearance, less impressive when it came to theology, and Gertrude who had been reciting the Chant at least once a day here for the last forty odd years, had been relegated to showing people to their places at the
grand royal event.

She had asked, what was her name, Meriya? Something like that, where she wanted to be seated and the elf had thanked her most politely and said, “No I think my place is here” and had actually taken a step further back into the shadows.  He, standing before the alter that day, hadn’t looked too chipper, either, in fact, he looked tight and unhappy. Oh Gertrude, knew tight when she saw it…

She had let her mind wander, again, silly Gertrude, and he was still weeping his eyes out.  She put her hand on his arm and like a child he snuffled “Leave me!” and shook it off.  So as one does with children she sat back and waited till the storm had passed.

“I apologise” he had said eventually, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“I think I remember you,” she said.

“Remember me?” he echoed hollowly, “From when?”

“Years back… Maric, your father…”

“That bastard…” he muttered.

“Brought you down when you were just a babe in arms, same blonde hair and hazel eyes… He asked me to bless you because he was sending you away…”

He sighed.

“You need to attend the recital of the Chant more frequently…”

“Somehow, I don’t think that will assist…” he said rising.

“You should pray more…”

“I don’t think that will assist…”

It always came down to this, people nowadays just did not want to take spiritual responsibility for
themselves… “I shall pray for you…”

He stopped and nodded and said “Thank you.  In the meantime I think I’ll go back to my lonely, fusty room and die or something…”

 

 

 

 

 

Modifié par Maria13, 19 juin 2010 - 02:10 .

[SRWill64]

I really enjoyed this....thank you. You really do capture Alistair...from desire to grief. Good job.

[Maria13]

SRWill64 wrote...

I really enjoyed this....thank you. You really do capture Alistair...from desire to grief. Good job.

Thanks, SR, we aim to please.

[Gilgamesh1138]

I almost missed posting for this! I am so sorry! Aw, my heart hurts for Ali, though I do thank you for mixing angst with funny. Great as always Maria! *HUGS*

[Lynn01]

I almost could not stop reading! Well done on this story I enjoyed it

[Eudaemonium]

I love your work! Can't wait to read more! There is more... right? *pleading eyes*.

[Maria13]

Gilga, thanks as always.



Lynn, I'm glad you enjoyed it.



Eudaemonium, thanks ever so, oh yes there's more to come but I'm having a bit of a tough week in RL so it won't be until the weekend.

[SRWill64]

Maria13 wrote...

Gilga, thanks as always.

Lynn, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Eudaemonium, thanks ever so, oh yes there's more to come but I'm having a bit of a tough week in RL so it won't be until the weekend.

Keep your head up, Maria.....don't let life drag you down. One thing I've learned, life can only give you temporary setbacks if you just keep trying....

[Maria13]

Chapter 16

Dragon 9:33
Molioris/Bloomingtide

Denerim

At eight she took her place at the table opposite him.  He waved at the food that smelled delicious, wholesome and spicy and said:

“Eat. I need to see you eat…”

A little later he said, “I didn’t tell you earlier that the grey dress suited you did I? It does. Black suits you, red suits you, naked suits you best of all…” He paused, “okay so I said no sex, why do I always promise the stupidest things?”

 Neriya thought she needed to get him off that subject rather quickly if their talke was to make any meaningful headway. “You still hate Anora, don’t you? It’s almost as bad as it was with Morri…”

It was as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees. “Don’t say that name in my presence… Don’t sully your mouth with that name.”

His abruptness startled her, so she reached for a piece of bread and started chewing. 

“I am sorry.” He sighed and bowed his head and then looked up and said: “My idea. I’ll start… I love you. There. Always have, always will.  And there’s nothing like being loved, is there? Even you know that, Neriya… That’s what you came back for, isn’t it? At least in part. Life can get a bit cruel, empty and hard out there when you’re alone… It’s clear to me that you’re only just discovering that for yourself. I talked to Wynne. Actually, I talked to a lot of people after you left to try and get a better grip, not just on myself, but on you.” He paused “I have no idea what it’s like growing up in a closed environment like the tower.  What was it that Wynne said? Something like ‘you can take the mage out of the tower but you can’t take the tower out of the mage’…  My own childhood was open, too open perhaps, so sometimes I just can’t see where you’re coming from. But I don’t humour myself that there’s not something else, ‘cause there’s always something else with you…”

“My turn now.” Neriya said and reached out and touched his hand. “I love you.   I have never been sure you quite appreciate what that means.  I have never figured out people.  I don’t understand them very well and that has been a problem.  I had to make so many decisions and I think I took what thought was the most rational approach to them but I am now coming to understand most those weren’t the best solutions when it came to you and the people affected. I should have consulted you more and listened to your views.  I wasn’t clever enough to do that at the time. So my belief is that what we should do is establish exactly how and when this went wrong and try and put it right…”

“Neriya.  We both know where this went awry and I cannot see how you or I could ever put it right now.  You may have made most of the decisions, but I consented to them, and I’m a big boy… No, that came out wrong… You know what
I mean.  What happened, happened and there’s no good picking at it like the scab of an old wound, we have to move
on…” His voice became almost beseeching. “Look at you, you went searching for that… that b*** and you’ve found nothing. Nothing. One precious year of your life, wasted.  You exhausted yourself, nearly starved and returned empty handed…” 

“Alistair, she is out there.  The Blight did not properly end, Konrad was right, we will end up paying for this and so may many other people…”

“I’m not sure that’s correct. So many things could have happened, perhaps she didn’t conceive, perhaps she  miscarried, perhaps the child is just a child. Ha, that would be funny, that one, serve the mangy b*** right. Perhaps, oh, I don’t know… Konrad was full of it? You do know Konrad and his merry men were planning to kill us, don’t you, if we’d put our feet wrong? Oh, now I remember, I didn’t tell you that, I was protecting you…”

“Be that as it may… but the truth is one of us should have died and didn’t…” Neriya paused wondering if she should finally say this out loud, “you should have died.”

Alistair sat back and said very quietly, “The tradition could be wrong, you know. I looked it up.  The last Blight ended almost four hundred years ago in Antiva… that elven hero and grey warden, Ga…, whats-his-name, yes, he died on the battlefield, but you and I know that battlefields are dicey places… People tend to die on them, mundane deaths, though, not mystical.  What concerns me today is not some demon child, dragon of beauty, old god, whatever, not even another Blight.  It’s famine. Famine next winter…”

Neriya leaned forward and found herself speaking very low, “Listen to your heart, Alistair, to your instincts, you’ve always had good ones, what do they tell you?”

Alistair was silent for a moment and then shoved the plate in front of him away with such force that half the settings on the table went flying… Only honed, quick elven reflexes ensured that Neriya was able to skip out of her chair just in time and avoid being hit by something. Once the din of smashed crockery on tiled floor had died down, Alistair looked at his hands splayed on the table before him and said gloomily, “I need a drink.”

“Is there something you haven’t told me, Alistair, is there…”

“This conversation is bringing out all sorts of s*** that I never wanted to even think about let alone discuss, ever
again…”

He got up and began to collect the things from the floor and stack them with some impatience back on the table.  Neriya bent down and began to help him.

“Can we please just agree that I have lost that part of the argument and move on?” He said retrieving a broken plate.

Neriya nodded, “yes, I think we can.”

“How old would her child be now, anyway?”

“About six months old… It was conceived Cassus 9:31…”

He sighed. “Of course.  Okay, well, you’ve still to convince why it should be down to us to search for the b*** and the brat… Look at it this way, by the time it reaches 20, you and I will be no more than a handful of bones, rags and dust in some obscure corner of the Deep Roads…” He said sounding both tired and reasonable. “Haven’t we already done enough?  What stake do we have in the future anyhow?  Wouldn’t it just be best to muddle through, make do with what we have, attempt to do a few practical things… Be happy? Make each other happy? What is the harm in that? Haven’t we earned it?”

“You mean I should forget all about this and stay in Denerim as your mistress?”

“And councillor, don’t forget, my councillor. Yes, I mean exactly that.”

“But no-one will ever see me as anything but your elven mistress. Look at how your fellow humans treat us.  Look at me.  They can’t get my name right, they are not aware that hero of Ferelden is an elf, you couldn’t marry me even if you wanted to, you couldn’t be King and marry me, in any event… I am… irrelevant.  More than that, I am a liability to you… ”

“Remember when I kissed you in the market place after the wardens had released us? I did that on purpose to make a statement.  The statement being that humans and elves can get on, yes that sounds so stupid and trite put into words, because to the both of us it is just so blindingly obvious.  But people, dumb humans, are influenced by what they see, if they see us making out in front of them they might just begin to question some of fixed ideas that have kept our species’ apart.  That is a good thing, a noble thing, if you stayed we could work at it.  Together we could change things on that front here, and change them for the better and forever…”

“That’s just your dick talking, Alistair, and you know it… Men always talk with their dicks…”

“Oh really?  How would you know, Neriya? How many men have you been with apart from me?  How many
other dicks do you know intimately? Bet you didn’t let Cullen and Jowan get a word in edgeways before you slew them, poor f***s… Yes sometimes my dick does talk for me and what it says is sensible and right!”

There was a long pause.  He looked up at the ceiling seeing only darkness. Neriya propped her chin on her hand.

“Alistair, we are both making this personal and it really isn’t about us, is it? To a large extent we’ve both been caught up in forces beyond our control. We had the best of intentions, we attempted to protect and preserve each other, as any other loving couple would, and it went terribly wrong.”

“No. Of course it isn’t personal.  So tell me, what did you find out in the Wilds?”

“As regards… whatsherface and Flemeth… Nothing. Flemeth’s place seemed abandoned. The Chasind are hospitable once you get to know them, much maligned…”

“And what are your plans… Oh wait,” He said holding up his hand, “Let me guess… Orlais…”

“As I promised her that day at the gates of Denerim, I will hunt her down and set this right.  If there is an opportunity for me on my own, I take it. If not, I alert you and or the grey wardens…”

“That plan,” Alistair said slowly, “has so many wrongs in it I wouldn’t know where to begin…”

“And our plan for ending the Blight was what, Alistair? We never improvised, of course…”

His features hardened. “I see.  You are going to go through with this, whatever I say…”

“Put like that: Yes.”

“Why do you always have to so blunt, Neriya? Couldn’t you just, you know, dress it up for me, lessen the blow…”

“Alistair, there is no kind way to do this, is there? That’s exactly what I was trying to do last time when I left without telling you beforehand.  I was going to leave a few days after your wedding… I kept waking up ready to collect my things and leave and finding you embracing me or mumbling in your sleep like you do, or just snoring on your back and I, just looking at you… I, just… I just… couldn’t do it…  I kept postponing it.”

It hadn’t really started well but it went very much downhill from then onwards.  Although they went to bed together, Alistair was surly and lay moping with his back to her on his side of the bed refusing to respond to her caresses.  She snuggled up to him nonetheless and hoped sleep would eventually come. More than likely, it did, because he woke her the next morning running his fingers gently over the angle of her jaw.

“The problem is,” he began, “I don’t ever want to have to let you go… But perhaps we can agree a few things?”

They agreed she would stay six weeks in Denerim and then go with him to Orzammar from whence she would depart for Orlais.  She would return by early winter.

                                                                               ~~...~~

 About half an hour before midday, a few days later, Casildea was attempting to open all the wooden shutters in the little room she had been given adjoining the courtyard in Denerim Palace.  One of them had warped with all the damp weather and she had to hit it really hard with the heel of her hand in order to get it to budge from the frame. The room had been a stable or a blacksmith’s workshop before and when she had first moved in, she couldn’t believe how cold it was, even with the fireplace… Now, however, the weather was slowly improving and conditions were somewhat better.

The first thing Neriya noticed about Casildea was that their height and build were very similar, although the other woman was slightly stockier. The second was that she had lots of thick, shiny black hair. 

Neriya was about to start talking, when, without turning and still hitting the shutter, Casildea said: “Okay, okay, I should start earlier, but I work late and you only pay me by the piece anyway, as for that ruddy bathroom ceiling… And, no, I am not bonking you for a second time, Your Majesty…”

When she turned round and saw Neriya, her perfect mouth made a perfect “O”, nevertheless she recovered well.  She stomped over to an ancient dresser cluttered cups plates and other utensils stained with paint of all different hues, and from behind a jug holding some coarse brushes, pulled out a dark bottle poured herself something in a cup and drank it down.

“So what’s it going to be then? Please not banishment… Again.”

Since Neriya did not reply immediately, Casildea filled another cup and held it out to her mutely. 

“Isn’t it a bit early?” Queried Neriya but took it anyway and sipped it carefully.  It tasted fresh and dry and had the tang of summer about it.

“That’s the thing about you Fereldans, you always say, ‘it’s too early’ or ‘that’s not right’ and then you drink it or do it anyway…”  She continued “since you’re the quietish type I gather it’s simply going to be all my commissions suddenly drying up over the next few months as you talk to all your powerful friends about how that nasty little Antivan painter seduced your wonderful, um… royal boyfriend and encourage them to take their business elsewhere…That’ll have the same end effect as banishment in that I will have to leave, anyway.” 

“I don’t think I really have any powerful friends apart from Alistair…”

“That’s enough, though, since he’s my sole patron here.”

“So when did you two, ahem, do it?”

Casildea looked up, “two, three months ago?”

“Why?”

“Oh Please! Just banish me and be done, already…”

Neriya stuck out her chin and crossed her arms. “Well?”

“Why? Because I’ve never done a King before, a count, that’ll be the equivalent to one of your Banns, several hidalgos, a marquesa… She was nice and we were both drunk. But not a king.  I thought it would be a good story to tell my grandchildren, when I eventually get round to having children… And because I felt sorry for him, okay?  That’s how I knew it was you, he described you to me because, really it was you he wanted, not me.  It was getting so bad that he even began to miss, it, if you follow my drift.”

“And why weren’t you going to do it again?”

“Because I’m in a serious relationship and because he’s not really my type… Lawler’s more my type, but that’s another story…”

“But it’s not Lawler you’re seeing…”

“Nope.”

“Andraste’s love, how can people be so complicated…”

Casildea winked at her, “you know, you sound like him…”

“I should think so, we’ve been together for almost four years, something had to rub off.” Said Neriya.  “So” she added trying to pull off her best frown but finding it very difficult indeed to frown consciously, “I might forego the banishment  or other punishment if you do me two favours.  First of all, Alistair wants you to paint my picture…”

“Oh, I know exactly what he wants…” She went over to a small table in the farthest corner of the room on which there were several canvases all stacked neatly on their sides, she selected two that were the same size and put them both against the wall back towards them. “He wants me to paint a picture of you that can be paired up with this one.” She turned one of the canvases around.

There stood Alistair or at least three quarters length of him in a regal looking but sombre suit with the rampant griffon emblem of the grey Wardens emblazoned on his left breast.  His face bore a serious, thoughtful, expression but there was something wistful in his eyes. His right hand resting lightly on what very clearly was the pommel of Starfang and his left poised on the griffon with his index finger straight while the others were slightly flexed.  Neriya took a step back
and considered it very carefully.

“No crown” said Casildea interrupting her thoughts, “he said something about it mussing his hair but it might have been modesty. So I put it on that cushion to the left of him.  There had to be some way to indicate royalty.  As for that emblem,” she said waving towards the griffon, “he insisted I include it.  He said belonging to the order had marked him
forever and he wanted posterity to know that… Not sure that makes any sense to you…”

“Perfect sense.” Said Neriya smiling despite herself.

“Obviously the right hand on his sword…”

“Starfang” interjected Neriya.

“Starfang” repeated Casildea, “means he is a fighter and not afraid to use force.  As for the left…” Casildea’s rather thick dark brows drew slightly together, “that kind of gesture is more commonly found in women’s portraits it means ‘I follow my heart’ or ‘I am guided by my emotions’, not that it looks at all effeminate on him, of course, this is Alistair, King of Ferelden, he might just start a new trend…  But I tried to persuade him to make some gesture in the Antivan style towards the crown, his source of power, and he said that the crown was just incidental, he wasn’t particularly interested in it. Clearly the left hand emphasises the griffon once again but I do not quite get the meaning of the extended index finger…”

Neriya replicated the same gesture on her own chest, “I think I understand…” she said slowly. “I think he is counting his heartbeats and perhaps even inviting the viewer to count his heartbeats with him…”

“But why?” Asked  Casildea, shaking her long black glossy hair, “I don’t understand and I don’t like not understanding what is in my own picture…”

“I may be wrong,” said Neriya, “but in any event it is not my secret but his.  Perhaps one day you should ask him and he may tell you.”

“At any rate,” Casildea said, “he was quite difficult to portray.  When I first met him I told him his features were bland… And so they are, overall, but once you get to know him… Usually bland features are easy to paint, but with him… There’s something else there or several something elses.  I tried to reflect that but found it extremely difficult to capture.  Posing too was troublesome, he is such a fidget, always looking down at a book, wandering around the studio touching stuff, questions, questions, questions, chatting or trying to chat me up… So distracting… I am not trying to blame him, it seemed almost a reflex…  Now look…” She said and turned the second canvas round.

“Anora”

“She had no trouble posing whatsoever. Perfect discipline, like a block of ice, no wonder he doesn’t get on with her…”

Anora was wearing a crown, a small one, but a crown nevertheless. Her hands were folded in front of her the fingers interlaced a glove on one hand, the other uncovered.

“She was easy.” Casildea shrugged.

“But…” objected Neriya.

Casildea went over to the canvases again, selected another one and came back, “Ah-ha” she said and turned it around, it was almost identical to the first Alistair portrait.

Neriya could not avoid smiling, “I see…”

“Politics and portraiture,” said Casildea, curtseying, “my speciality.”

Neriya finished her drink with a gulp.

“Now, I think your pose should be different, I should say your body should be turned slightly to one side, facing towards his, of course, but with your face looking forwards…”

“Because I am his mistress?” Asked Neriya.

“Yes, but also because you are his love.  Apart from that, I think it would favour you.  No crown for you, of course but I can incorporate your staff.  Do you wish to have the Grey Warden emblem too?” Neriya nodded, “of course you do. Like that it will also be apparent that you have more in common with him than the Queen.”  She paused, “now you were a virgin when you met him…”

“That…”

“So sorry, he likes to talk and I like to ask.  Unfortunately I have a pretty good memory, too… Would you like that represented, we could pose you with an ermine or something…”

“An ermine?”

“It’s a kind of rodent, it…”
 
“Ugh, no rodents, can’t stand them.”

“Okay… We could have your hair loose…”

“It frizzes.”

“Right.  How about a white rose somewhere?”

“Discreetly, no need to rub it in.”

“Fair enough, like his crown, then?”

“Exactly.”

“Have you thought of a dress? He mentioned something about a red silk one…”

Neriya paused for a moment. That particular dress, which she was now convinced he had carefully preserved somewhere in her absence, brought all sorts of memories with it.  Their argument about what she should wear, how
he had had it made for her and used the colour to pick her out from the crowd on the day of his marriage. Finally, a less than sober Alistair wantonly making love to her against a wall in a side room very shortly before his bedding.  Of all their times together, for some reason, it was that one, perhaps because of its very shamelessness, that had most stuck with her while they were apart; that was the scene she used to lovingly replay in her memory when she had felt cold and lonely in the Wilds. Well, if she wasn’t going to stay in Denerim as his mistress the very least she could give him was that.

“Yes. I know which one he means, I shall see if I can find it. I’m sure it must be stored somewhere.”

“Now” and Casildea yanked her own hair back, in a universal gesture between elves, “I would like very much like to show your ears.”

“I have no objection.  I am equally sure he won’t either.”

“As good as done then,” agreed Casildea, “Can you come and pose for several days?”

“I have no choice, I guess, since I am at His Majesty’s command… Half past midday for the next week.  I expect you to provide some of that refreshment.”

“We shall see, favoured one…”

“Now, my second requirement…” said Neriya, “I have heard that some artists can draw portraits from description alone…  There is someone I very much would like a picture of… Would you be willing to give it a go?”

“I would, though it sounds like a bit of a challenge” Casildea crossed the room and pulled out her charcoal and sketch pad from a cupboard.

“She’s a human female, a little older than myself, her face is an almost perfect oval…”

 

Modifié par Maria13, 26 juin 2010 - 05:04 .

[SRWill64]

Morrigan, eh?
You know, the darkspwn threat wouldn't be ended even if one or the other died. It has something to do with something else....but then again, they wouldn't know that. Yet anyway. Hehe
Good job as always. I love your story.

Modifié par SRWill64, 26 juin 2010 - 07:33 .

[Gilgamesh1138]

LOL love this! Great job Maria!

[Maria13]

WARNING: Good writing, I hope, but a bit nasty...

Chapter 17

Dragon 9:30 Cassus/Haring

Denerim

Morrigan blamed Alistair.

She stood on a hillock some five miles south of Denerim, looking down at the city that lay on the horizon, wondering almost idly if the companions would succeed in slaying the Archdemon today. Even from where she stood she could hear the distant echoes of cries and the din of destruction.

For a few days now she had felt different but, more than different, not quite right. Of course, she had expected to feel different, not having ever been in this state before, and in practical terms she was unfamiliar with everything it entailed, but she had not expected to feel uncomfortable and ill at ease.

Just a few nights ago she had woken with a start from some very strange dreams and had had to rush out of her tent to relieve herself. This was disturbing because Morrigan usually held sway over her dreams very well, but these dreams… it was as if they belonged to someone else, someone completely different. She disliked the feeling that by some means she had been taken over, even if it was only temporarily.  Morrigan had then, once back in her cot,
attempted to regain the control she had lost, by recalling and dissecting the dreams but they seemed to elude her not inconsiderable powers of conscious evocation, which, in itself, was strange.

Shortly after they had departed from Redcliffe, Morrigan had began to feel queasy and smells began to disturb her, as if the world around her were suddenly crowding around her pushing up against her, too close. The impulse to transform and run, creep or, better still, spread wings and fly away had never been stronger but she resisted it very keenly, because she felt in those last few weeks of the campaign to end the Blight, preserving her human form and presence among the companions was crucial in order to avoid arousing suspicion. 


She had already felt Riordan eying her somewhat warily, but Riordan she perceived was far from at his best.  His recent mistreatment in Howe’s dungeon had shaken him more than he would ever wish to show the others, and, as
the senior warden now, there was too much else weighing on his mind.

Zevran on the other hand, was another matter, he had sauntered over one evening and crouched down in front of her fire:

“Morrigan, my dear, tell me what you did…”

“I have done nothing…  At least nothing that should concern you.”

“I see…” he had said looking into the flames.  “and why would you lie to me, I wonder?”

“Why would you ask?”

“Let me see now… Because if you have done something, then I might consider it appropriate to depart from my usual mercenary strictures…”

Morrigan decided it was best to cut to the chase, “I would like to see you try and take me on, elf.”

He had smiled up at her, his most disarming smile, “Who knows? Perhaps one day I shall”

Morrigan attempted to console herself by recalling how good it had felt to humiliate Alistair.  

At first when making the preparations for the ritual following Flemeth’s instructions, she had been in two minds as to whether she wanted it to be him or not. 

But then, shortly after freeing the Tower of Mages (a pointless, fruitless task in her view, if ever there were one, they should have simply allowed the Templars to perform the rite of annulment. Those who did not fight tooth and nail for their freedom deserved neither freedom nor life…), she had felt extremely… irritated, when it became apparent that Alistair and Neriya had lost their virginity to each other.  She felt, in fact, like sticking her own fingers down the back of her throat and vomiting when the next morning they had emerged from his tent flushed and still excited, arm in arm.

Morrigan realised then that she would have taken great delight in being the one to deprive him of his virtue and in so doing to tarnish forever his first experience of physical love.  To make a mark on him such that he would never be able to forget or set aside, to punish him for his arrogance and his self-assuredness.

Still, she had, however, quickly grasped that the relationship between the two gave her plans a new strength and she felt better when she considered that instead of humiliating one of them, she could demean them both. Neriya, she decided, deserved to suffer as much as Alistair precisely because the little fool mage had now set herself in thrall to the idiot Templar.

 Her mind returned to the present. Yesterday she had started bleeding and she was still bleeding today, just lightly, but again, this caused her some concern.

‘Twas no matter it they were not successful, she told herself. She did not care for any of them.  If they failed she would simply start again, abort the child, decamp to Orlais and find another weak-minded, new-minted Grey Warden to use for the ritual.  She almost felt relief at that thought.

                                                               ~~...~~
 

“You see,” she recalled Flemeth saying about six years earlier, “without their armours, swords and their feeble magics they are nothing. Less than nothing: Men.” Flemeth’s lips twitched slightly as she said this. “It is time, Morrigan, to see how the little games of catch we play with the Templars end. The strong survive and the weak perish, and the strong prey on the weak… ‘twas ever nature’s way… Do not think for a moment that they would do anything less to us, if the boot were on the other foot.”

Morrigan looked over at the Templar secured to her cot, he was naked, pitiful and very young, but ready.  He seemed to react to her gaze “I am Tom…” he said, “Tom…” as if the fear had not only paralysed his power of speech but frozen his thoughts. She supposed fear did that.  It was a most efficacious weapon.

“You might want to silence him.” Said Flemeth, “… you know how to, girl, but then… you might not…” She paused “The spell has been twisted, they spend, they die. We take some of their strength and power, such as it is, within ourselves through the act.”

Morrigan turned towards the cot. “Leave us, mother.” She had said. It was the first time she had issued anything resembling a command to Flemeth. But Flemeth had nodded, cast a brief look at the young Templar, and left.

She hadn’t silenced him. Between groans and shudders, he had wept throughout their dealings, pleading with her and calling for his mother.  Morrigan had remained quiet beyond her own murmured responses to the act, as indeed there
was enjoyment to be had there, between his thighs.  When at last he had spilled himself inside her, Tom had moaned one last time and whispered “Andraste…”. She did not know whether from fear or pleasure or both. She did not care to dwell on that overmuch.

A little later, without knowing precisely why, she had ripped the Templar amulet from Tom’s neck and, leaving the room and with it clenched tightly in her fist, had stepped outside.

“So, my Morrigan, now you know what it is to be a woman and powerful…” Flemeth had greeted her and then looked up into the trees around their hut where the fresh bodies and older bones were dancing in the breeze of a pleasant day in the Kocari Wilds and laughed that savage cackle of hers. “That father you so often ask me about, he may have been one such as that poor boy…” and she had pointed her chin towards the hut and the room where young dead Tom now lay and continued to cackle hysterically. 

Morrigan had never asked about her father again.

 
                                                                   ~~...~~
 

Alistair had said, “Let’s get this over with quickly.”

Morrigan had not responded but smiled and finished casting aside her clothes.  There was no humour in him now, no
light-heartedness. She sensed anger, humiliation and shame in equal and confused amounts. Still smiling, she approached the bed where he lay naked swivelling her hips.

She clambered onto the bed and noticed that Alistair had already began to harden.  Morrigan saw his chest was criss-crossed with scars.  Strange that, of course she was aware that occasionally he had been injured, but not so frequently, she tried to reconcile him having sustained so many injuries with the usual happy go lucky personality he projected.  They did not quite seem to mesh.

Morrigan straddled him and reached out to touch his cheek, wordlessly he slapped her hand away. So instead she reached down and, tensing her thighs, pulled him to her and held him still there for a very long moment, hovering above him.  Alistair turned his face to the side, breathing deeply. Were those tears she saw in his eyes below his long fair lashes? ‘Twas no matter. Morrigan sunk down onto him.  Alistair gasped. Morrigan made sure she moaned very loudly.

Who would have thought? Alistair was large and mounting him was extremely satisfying, even for an experienced woman such as herself.  She rode him hard, arching her back, touching him and herself between her legs, running her fingers over her nipples, continuing to vocalise her enjoyment of him.
 
All the while, though, she was attempting to read him and what she perceived disturbed her slightly.  He was more complex than she had thought, stronger and more resourceful, perhaps.  His feelings had depths and twists that she
could not quite follow.  She regretted somewhat tussling with him so superficially and neglecting to pay him more focussed attention.

At one point, close to loosing her balance, Morrigan thought she had achieved a breakthrough when she leaned both her hands on his chest and she sensed a flash of desperate uncontrolled anger course through him.  Ah, sweet anger, the easiest emotion to manipulate. In her mind, she clasped it to her and caressed it…  She had then leaned down even lower and whispered into his ear: “Give me more of this, Alistair, I can use this…”

For a brief moment he had jerked his face towards her and looked her square in the eyes.  Then Alistair’s fists had clenched the bedclothes under them, he turned his face away once again, and it was as if unyielding shutters had suddenly descended over his thoughts and feelings, cutting her off entirely.

For the remainder of their interaction, Morrigan was unable to obtain any additional emotional leverage.  Eventually she had come, making a great show of noisily broadcasting her contentment. Alistair had followed shortly afterwards, briefly releasing inside her, suppressing a groan or a whimper by biting his lips and his tongue.

Morrigan had dismounted then and attempted fruitlessly to catch his eye.  Alistair’s face remained stubbornly turned
away.  With a theatrical sigh she had began to collect her clothing from the floor and dress.  Morrigan cast one last look towards the bed.  He remained there perfectly immobile, shrugging, she opened the door and left the room.

                                                                               ~~...~~

 
On the roof of Fort Drakon Alistair realised he had never felt so tired in his entire life.  He was bleeding, not badly, he thought, but it did not help either his stamina or his strength.  As usual, there was no pain, being in the midst of battle always did that for him, but it would certainly come afterwards. 

He hit a hurlock on the side of the head with his shield and pushed him out of his path, closing in on the Archdemon that Neriya seemed to be holding bespelled a few tantalizing steps away. Out of the blue, he felt a surge of power wash over him.  Wynne.  Thank the Maker for Wynne… and for Neriya, he quickly added, and even that deviant Zev… Stop praying, you wretched Templar, he said to himself, and DO something instead… The Maker assists those who assist themselves, he battered aside a few more darkspawn…

He was now under the beast he realised. The vault of its chest was above him or was that the pit of its belly? Whatever.  He slashed at it and slashed again.  It… yelled, screamed, screeched, loud, anyway.  Blood poured
over him, blinding him with red for a moment… I like this, Alistair thought dementedly, I bleed, you bleed, she bleeds (where did that come from?), let’s all bleed together, children. So long as you bleed out first, you sodding bastard… Fun. Such fun. Unseeing he thrust Starfang upwards, meeting flesh again.  Vision recovered, a claw made for his eyes and he rebuffed it with his shield. Another spell must have hit the Archdemon and it visibly sagged.  Nothing
like my sweet destructo mage… He stepped out from under the beast with a sense of anticipation. 

The Archdemon was thrashing in the pool of its own blood.  With one last effort that he did not know he had in him, Alistair jumped on the beast’s narrow head as it curved in his direction. Dropping his shield and gripping Starfang in both hands with all his remaining strength  Alistair drove its sharpened glittering arc cleanly through the thick vault of the Archdemon’s skull.  It squealed.  Definitely a squeal this time, it thrashed one last instance and was still.  He let himself fall on his knees into the pool of scarlet below, supporting himself with his hands.

Suddenly, a feeling of overwhelming joy seized him: It had been done, it was right and it had been done.  He had done it.  Part of him seemed to dance free for the briefest of moments in the purest light. Those thoughts and feelings that had weighed so heavily against his heart for the last two weeks had lifted.  He was about to turn and shout to everyone around him there and tell them, even though he realised words would fall so short of what he was burning to express, even though her realised they would be unable to understand barely a fraction of what he was feeling, when something else took him.

It was as if Alistair had been dropped from a great height. For a moment he thought of Riordan, dashed and broken against the ground. A blunt shock hit his body, his heart stilled, his lungs felt as if they had suddenly turned to stone and he gasped. His mouth gaping stupidly. His left hand desperately flew to his throat and then his chest and began to rip fruitlessly at his armour in an attempt to find some relief. Then from blunt pain it seemed to develop claws and began to tear at Alistair, seeking to shred everything he was, ever had been, ever would be…

His body was already taken and seemed to be just a dead weight.  Inside the occupied fortress, Alistair’s mind
struggled pointlessly a few desperate moments more, pinned down, helpless and screaming soundlessly as it was rent and ripped to pieces by a thousand sharpened instruments made expressly for the purpose. 

A part of him he had always taken for granted but never had the decency to acknowledge, held out in the very last room. Serene, compact, brave and determined, but afraid, so very, very afraid, about to loose everything. Backed against the wall, unarmed and defenceless, within a hair’s breath of abject defeat but readying itself, smiling,
smiling, smiling…

And just as suddenly it was gone, as if a veil had been lifted a chain broken… Everything taken restored. What was rent, made whole again. The monster shook its head, withdrew and passed him by. 

Alistair’s chest shuddered, now free, with the first breath of his merciful rebirth, his limbs jerked, he kicked out spasmodically and rolled onto his back wriggling like a newborn in the pool of the Archdemon’s blood.  Above he saw the sky was grey but clouds still wandered serenely. Perhaps it would rain. Sound returned.

“Alistair, Alistair!… Are you all right, Alistair…” and Neriya bent over him and was screaming and crying and lay her face on his armour, just above his heart.  Alistair reached out with his hand and gently laid it on the back of her head, staining her white hair with crimson…

                                                                               ~~...~~

It began to rain.  In her frustration and impatience Morrigan started kicking a tussock. There was no shelter anywhere nearby that she could see and she was too tired to begin to assemble her tent.  Why couldn’t they just hurry up? She was about to turn her back to the view and see if there was some kind of cave in the vicinity when she heard a roar from the direction of the distant city.  A pillar of light suddenly began to surge from above Fort Drakon and billow into the angry clouds…

Well, well something had come to pass after all…

Before she could properly comprehend what was happening a shard of light separated itself out from the pillar and began travelling at a vertiginous speed in her direction. Morrigan groaned as it hit her in the stomach, she fell to her knees struggling for air as her hands scrabbled spasmodically in the dirt as if she were a dog or a rat…

After a few seconds she stopped, stared stupidly down and the torn earth and then sat back on her heels.  She held up her hands coated with filth and calmly perused her bleeding fingernails. The feeling of drowning, the pain, it was all still there but she had just realised it was not hers.  She took her right hand and tentatively lay it over her  belly. This was not good.

 

Modifié par Maria13, 12 juillet 2010 - 08:18 .

[SRWill64]

Wow! I am too stunned to say much more than that...

[Maria13]

Thanks. I really enjoyed writing Morrigan.

[ElvaliaRavenHart]

You're giving such depth to this story, I'm really enjoying this. More please.

[Maria13]

ElvaliaRavenHart wrote...

You're giving such depth to this story, I'm really enjoying this. More please.

Thank you, so much Elvalia.  There will be more and soon, I'm on leave next week...

I think Chapter 17 is one of my best chapters so far, but I hardly had to work it.  I didn't think I liked Morrie, but obviously I do in a twisted sort of way...

[Maria13]

Chapter 18

Dragon 9:33
Molioris/Bloomingtide
The north road

“Feels just like old times,” said Alistair as they left behind the outskirts of Denerim on the first day of their journey to Orzammar. “Except with better clothes, nicer tents, improved equipment and supplies and an armed escort of 15 men… Nothing like old days at all then, except for the walking part, of course,” he clapped his hands together. “So what do we talk about Neriya?”

“How about Casildea?”

Alistair paused most of his jubilance dissipated at a stroke, Neriya felt sorry for him but she felt she needed to bring it up as early as possible just to get it out of the way. However, she could not but admire how he attempted to brazen it out. “She said she’ll have your portrait ready by the time I get back to Denerim…”

“Ah-ha, but she also told me that you and her…”

“By the Maker, cannot one of my lapses remain… Lapsed?”

“Apparently not.  She said one thing too many and then invited me to a drink…”

Alistair fumbled. “It wasn’t… I wasn’t intending to… but it wasn’t her fault… I was… but… Anyway it was a one-off that happened several months ago now.”

“Alistair,” Neriya said quietly, “if you are going to take lovers should you not at least ensure they are discreet? You are King now, what will people think?”

A look of annoyance crossed his features. “Now you sound just like Anora,” he said accusingly," and why should I be concerned what people think? That is for them to decide surely? You yourself mentioned that song. Even if I were I to behave like a perfect virgin Templar from here onwards it seems to me that that could not be undone… Nor would I particularly care to undo it.” He paused, his jaw working, “finally, you know me, I probably wouldn’t want a lover that was discreet, would I? Given a choice I think I would choose enthusiasm over discretion any day of the year.”

“I worry about you…”

“No, Neriya, if you really worried about me you would not have left in the first place and you would not be set on leaving me now…”

Neriya held up her hands as if in surrender. “You are right. It is not my place to judge you…”

“No it isn’t” he said stiffly, “Not on this. It really isn’t.”

                                                                                ~~...~~

Overall, though, Neriya had to admit, apart from the concern that his wayward reputation caused her, she was quite impressed at the life Alistair had made for himself as King in Denerim. 

His meetings with Anora were far less cordial than she had hoped, but there seemed be a fertile and creative tension between the two of them, a sort of give and take, of which they both appeared to be, almost comically, oblivious.

She attended several of Alistair’s Orlesian classes and was surprised to see how articulate and confident he was in that language. Mme Lafarge, who apparently had been Connor’s grammar teacher, seemed overall to be quite happy with Alistair and conversation flowed between them very freely, so much so that Neriya who had studied some basic Orlesian in the tower was unable, for the most part, to follow.

At the end of the first class she attended Mme had turned to Neriya and said to her, “his reading, conversation and comprehension are all what I would expect from an educated person.  Not a King, mind, but an educated person,” for all the world as if Neriya were Alistair’s anxious mother, rather than his bemused lover:

Neriya glanced over at Alistair, he was shuffling his feet and staring out of the window, more like a nervous schoolboy than a King.

Probably wholly aware of the effect she was having on him, Mme Lafarge persisted, “his composition, though, leaves something to be desired… Frankly he needs to concentrate a little more on his written skills otherwise he risks disgracing le tout Ferelden and he needs to spend more time on his devoirs[/i].”

“No pressure, then.” Muttered Alistair after she had left.

Dalish was another matter altogether.  Alistair seemed to struggle even at the most elementary level under the kindly tutelage of an amiable elder who, inevitably, hailed from the alienage.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” Alistair confessed to Neriya later. “I just thought it would be important.  Seems to me that even the  thought processes behind the language are different, like they are working to a different timescale or something.  But he, Brannion, is a fascinating character. He’s lived forever and fought in countless wars.  Once I mentioned something about the Blight and he nodded and then said, ‘Oh, I see, you mean this last one…’”  But Alistair persisted nonetheless and the elder seemed very impressed by the mere fact that he was making a genuine
effort.
 
                                                                            ~~...~~
 
Neriya’s efforts in the library did not go as well as she had hoped.  There seemed to be nothing in all the documents
she perused that she did not already know about Flemeth and her daughters. 

She did, however, after a few weeks, come upon something wholly unexpected. Between two tattered volumes there was a humble, frugally bound, assemblage of the poorest kind of parchment covered in tiny meticulous handwriting.  As soon as she began riffling through it she realised that it was a sort of diary, but not of the personal kind.  Reading a few of the rather trite entries at random she deduced that it belonged to one of the royal household stewards or
chamberlains. The document went from around DA 9:02 to DA 9:25. 

The chamberlain seemed quite a querulous person, always out of sorts, or perhaps Maric was just a very demanding King to serve and the chamberlain did not take enough leave:

“9:04 Firstfall: The King says he wishes to sup on pike sometime next week… Pike, pike! How am I to procure pike this time of year?”

Neriya was about to place the papers back where she had found them when another entry caught her eye.

“9:08 Drakonis: Two of those Grey Wardens have returned.  The one from Rivain who resembles a street urchin and has now grown a beard and the little Orlesian elven mage, who the King seems to be much taken with. Where do they recruit these people? They look like Orlesian riff-raff to me… The King arranged to meet them both in the great hall very late last night. I had to take them to him dressed only in my nightwear. So humiliating! Today he was walking about the palace bearing a blond male child in his arms, and I have been ordered to find a wetnurse and to make arrangements for them both to travel to Redcliffe in a few days’ time…”

Neriya scoured the rest of the document following this note but could find no further references to the child, which seemed to make an odd kind of sense. 

Going backwards, however, she found another interesting record.

“9:06 Haring: The King has left for Orzammar with a group of seven Grey Wardens. He has instructed us that we should delay informing Councillor Loghain of his departure for as long as possible.”

That evening she had asked Alistair when he was born:

“Sometime in 9:07 Kingsway, don’t know precisely what day, why do you ask?”

Since they were both preparing for bed, Neriya had limited herself to fluttering her eyelids, putting her arms around him and kissing him on the lips. Her question was very quickly forgotten in the throes of affection.

                                        ~~...~~

A few days later, she decided to pay a visit to the Grey Warden Chapter House in Denerim. 

Dummond, was, as always, was happy to see her and asked about her recent absence. Neriya was slightly cagey in reply, but hoped she had given him the impression that she had spent most of her time away from Denerim in the Circle Tower and Orzammar.  Neriya asked him how he was settling in in Ferelden and, somewhat to her surprise, Dummond grinned very widely and said that he now felt thoroughly at home and that things were good.  Neriya wondered for a moment whether he had found somebody, he did have a glow of contentment about him. He also asked after Alistair and said they had gone out several times together for a drink and they occasionally sparred.

“He’s very good,” said Dummond, “fast and wily,” and then he smiled, “but of course, you know that.”

Neriya then got down to business and asked him whether the Chapter House kept records of the Grey Wardens joined in Ferelden and of the comings and goings of those from abroad passing through on the order’s business. Dummond replied that indeed they did and returned after five minutes with a very orderly ledger.  Neriya asked whether he would mind terribly leaving her alone with the book for about half an hour and Dummond suddenly recalled that he had some armour to polish.

She was somewhat disappointed to see that the ledger only began in 9:08, however, the very first entry made her catch her breath. 

“9:08 Cloudreach: First entry. Have just returned from Redcliffe. I am sure Fiona’s son will do well there, it is a
beautiful area sited on the shores of Lake Calenhad.  The Arl and his young brother seem hospitable and kind, if still grieving for their late sister and were quite taken with the boy. The King is most grateful and true to his word has bequeathed this property in Denerim to the order to act as our headquarters.  He has also made clear that he intends to return Soldier’s Peak to the order in due course.                                                                                                                  
                      Duncan of Rivain

The rest of the ledger was not so interesting but Neriya did note that Duncan had made several entries over the years from 9:08 to 9:30 recalling his comings and goings and frequently mentioning visits to Redcliffe and the Tower of Mages.  No further mention was made of the child, however.

Now Neriya faced a dilemma.  She decided that she was not quite certain enough to inform Alistair. Neither did she
think it was right to cause him further distress in what was already going to be a distressful period for him. But she did not want to close off all the avenues to her lover and, knowing Alistair as she did, she was sure he would rather know that not know, even if the knowledge might cause him pain. So she decided on a risky, intermediate course.

She went downstairs and found Dummond in the basement, the same basement, in fact, where Alistair and her had been held, surrounded by dozens of pieces of armour, some of which could perhaps fit him, other parts obviously not.  Dummond was very busily scrubbing away at some pauldrons with a cloth dipped in oil.  At his feet there were brushes and cloths of varying textures and materials some with wire bristles.  He smiled when he saw her shrugged and said, “Life is good.”

“Can I ask you for a favour, Dummond?”

“You can…,” he said somewhat warily, pausing in his work.

“Can you not mention to Alistair that I was here today?”

Dummond sighed and looked down at the piece of armour on his lap, “I won’t”

“Please also don’t tell him about my checking the ledger…”

“Fine. But what if he should ask?”

“Then tell him, tell him both things.” Neriya pursed her lips, “But also… If sometime in the future he should come to you with questions about himself… I know this sounds really vague, hand him the ledger and tell him I perused it.”

Dummond glanced at her and then shook his head, “I don’t know what is going on here but this all sounds a little complicated to me.  I consider him a good friend and I think of you as a very good friend, too. Wouldn’t it be better if you spoke to him directly about whatever it is?”

“I’ll think about it…”

Dummond shook his head “I know when a woman says that she really means ‘no’… but I shall keep my word.”

Resignedly the qunari picked up another piece of armour and started polishing.

                                                                                  ~~...~~

As for the memoirs of the querulous chamberlain, Neriya decided to write a note to Alistair, to future Alistair, for him to find should he ever stumble upon it, and leave it between the pages of the diary that she returned to its former position in the library.

                                                                                ~~...~~

It was their sixth day on the road when one of the scouts reported back that he had seen a group of some twenty-five darkspawn a little up ahead.  Upon hearing this news Alistair stood transfixed to the spot.

“Maker, Maker, Andraste…” Lawler standing next to him heard him crow, “This must be the most unfortunate darkspawn hoard this side of Orzammar and I am one LUCKY BOY!”

Suddenly Alistair was no longer standing beside him, he and Neriya followed by the rather tired scout where hot footing it towards the supply wagon.  Out of instinct, Lawler turned and followed.

“Armour, my armour!” Alistair was shouting and then turning to the winded scout, “are you sure, they are coming this way, are you sure now?”

“Yes, Your Maj…” replied the scout doubled up in pain.

“Good man” he said gently to the scout and then “My armour you idiot!” to the unfortunate young recruit who was riding on the ox cart and now looked completely stunned, “double quick!”

Neriya placed a restraining hand on Alistair’s wrist.  Overcoming his initial surprise, the young man very quickly snapped too and produced the required gear. “Sorry” Alistair mumbled, and then to Neriya, “Just breastplate, backplate, helmet, vambraces, sabatons…”

“Don’t forget the tassets, Alistair,” said Lawler dryly, “should something happen to your balls half the women in Ferelden will be in mourning…”

Alistair swivelled his eyes towards him and then let loose a quick bark of a laugh, “indeed.”

“Are you sure, Alistair?” asked Neriya.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

While Alistair pulled on the gauntlets and helm the other two busied themselves with fitting and fastening the remaining bits, like drones fussing around a queen bee.

“Double check, quick now”

Neriya and Lawler re-tested the fastenings.

“Right. Go. Neriya, my love…” Alistair’s voice was a touch mocking, “You do recall how to do this, don’t you?”

Neriya glared at him and tugged her staff from the strap on her back, “of course I do, better than you, a***h***.  You’ve only been training for the last year, I’ve been in the field.”

Someone with sharp eyes screamed, “they’re coming!”

Alistair yelled, “Back! Everyone back, let the hero do her thing!” gesturing with Starfang, aside to Neriya he said, “ready when you are, sweetheart…”

Lawler looked on fascinated as Neriya began to entwine her hands in the air.

Alistair turned to him and said in a really loud voice, “apart from the fact that she is beautiful as a crisp winter’s morn, as keen as Starfang and granted me the privilege of taking her maidenhead…”

Lawler reddened slightly, “Alistair” he hissed, “Perhaps you should keep your voice down?”

“Look” Alistair whispered and ran his hands in front of Neriya’s face, “She isn’t here at the moment, I wouldn’t want what I was saying to go to her head…” and then continued unperturbed “… and that in bed she can do things that
would cause any man praise the Maker and all his creation, apart from that, Lawler…”

But Lawler could not take his eyes off Neriya, it was as if the air through her presence had suddenly become something more solid, something malleable to the intellect and will and Neriya was weaving it and bending it to her will.  Suddenly there was a slight… tug. It was as if the atmosphere around them had come alive, making all the hairs on his body stand on end, but in an agreeable way…

“Feel that, Lawler? It always feels like that when you are standing near her…” whispered Alistair in awe. Then in the loud voice once again, “What I was saying, Lawler, apart from that… Oh wait, it’s coming Lawler, it’s coming…
Apart from that, Lawler, THERE IS THIS….”

Suddenly there was a blunt noise “WHUMMMMMMMMMP”, like a sort of prolonged thump and Lawler felt a cone of pure invisible power move away from Neriya towards the oncoming horde, ruffling his hair and nearly knocking him
off his feet. Instantly, he made to run in its wake but Alistair stuck out a muscled arm and grabbed him pulling him back.

“Still, Lawler. You really, really don’t want to get caught up in that…”

Just as suddenly, Neriya returned to Thedas, “Ooopps!” said Alistair as he released Lawler and turned just in time to catch her as she wobbled on her feet. “Lesson one of working with a destructo mage, Lawler…” He said propping up
Neriya who was still looking somewhat stunned, “is get out of the way… I guess lesson two is never ****** them off…”

Draped in a surging vortex of snow and ice a large part of the horde had suddenly  become invisible.

“You guys,” yelled Alistair to the troops, “Don’t go anywhere near that if you don’t want your noses to drop off, take the stragglers! Forward!”

Only a small group of some four darkspawn had been totally unscathed by the spell and Alistair rushed towards them with Lawler in his wake, leaving the platoon to tackle those who, thought not directly affected, had still sustained
some damage.

Alistair went barrelling for the Hurlock first although he had to charge and dodge two of the others to reach him.  Lawler followed slashing to the left and the right.  Alistair gained his target striking him a forceful blow to the head with the edge of his shield. The Hurlock stumbled to the left and Alistair brought Starfang down in a sweeping arc from the right decapitating him in a single blow, showering both him and Lawler with blood.  Alistair look stunned for a moment
and muttered something about luck.

A genlock went for him but only managed to strike Alistair lightly on the side before Lawler was upon him. Alistair turned hit the genlock with the shield and went for the survivor while Lawler finished the genlock off. The survivor did not remain such for long.

By this time the area affected by the main spell had cleared and there were about fifteen groggy darkspawn still on their feet.  Looking back quickly Lawler saw that Neriya had moved forward and was busy casting ice missile spells.  He assumed she was doing this while her mana recovered.

“Protect her,” said Alistair, “I’ll take the rest of the guys and finish off,” Lawler hesitated. “Lawler!” said Alistair, “Protecting the mage is the most important job on the field. Get to it. NOW!”

Lawler took off to where Neriya stood. She seemed to be rather happily casting, a small smile playing on her lips. 
Without looking at him she said, “He gave you his job… He really does trust you.”

Lawler did not have time to reply, three darkspawn were heading in their direction, he intercepted them, slashing and slicing, moving from side to side.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Neriya draw a small flask from her belt, remove the cork with her teeth and down the contents in one go. He concentrated on the most severely injured of the darkspawn, terminated him and twisted about to tackle the other two only to discover they had been turned to ice.

Neriya smiled “Slash, slash…” she said moving her hands making the appropriate motions.  Lawler did so only
to discover that one shattered showing him with shards of ice. 

“Frankly, I prefer it to blood…” remarked Neriya.

The other came to but was so incapacitated that delivering the coup de grace was like smearing butter on warm bread.

“Go Lawler” said Neriya quietly. “Now let’s help that arrogant oaf, shall we?”

Although when he first set eyes on her Lawler immediately understood Alistair’s attraction it was only now that he began to understand his beguilement.

“Follow me, then, Neriya,” he said and set off once again.  

                                                                    ~~...~~

“Four serious injuries, none seem endangered, three light, including yourself,” said Lawler.

“Good odds,” said Alistair and then, “Ouch!” because Neriya had just prodded him in the side.  “I need medical
attention,” he said looking at her.

“Wait your turn for the field medic” Neriya said.

“Some of these guys fought in Denerim,” said Lawler, “as did I, so we do know how to tackle darkspawn, if not handle mages” he said eyeing Neriya who stuck her tongue out at him.

“That’s a point.”

Turning to Alistair Neriya sighed “Let’s see,” she said tugging up his chemise, “It’s just a scratch.”

“Oh good, then my personal physician can see to it…”

Neriya rolled her eyes at Lawler.

“Lawler, late supper tonight, everyone round the table, Neriya and I somewhere in the middle, lots of booze good food.  We need to celebrate our victory here…”

“Neriya, take me to our tent…”

“You’ll be asking me to carry you next.” Alistair put one of his arms around her shoulder and then made as if to lean on her.

“Lawler, we’ll be busy for the next few hours.”

Modifié par Maria13, 12 juillet 2010 - 08:16 .

[ElvaliaRavenHart]

"I would choose enthusiasm over discretion any day of the year.”



OMG, love this line, well done. I started laughing when I read this.

[Maria13]

ElvaliaRavenHart wrote...

"I would choose enthusiasm over discretion any day of the year.”

OMG, love this line, well done. I started laughing when I read this.

Thanks!

[Maria13]

Chapter 19
Dragon 9:33 Justinian
Lake Calenhad, tower of mages

They had set out early so dawn was just breaking over the still waters of Lake Calenhad casting rosy reflections over its surface, the brightness on the horizon seeming to promise a beautiful spring day.

Alistair was leaning against the edge of the little rowing boat happy to catch up on the local gossip with Carroll who had been sent over to escort them to the Tower of Mages, "So how are things around here?"

"Quietish really, there was a storm a few weeks back and we were cut off from the mainland for a few days... Caught me on shore."

"Sounds good, a chance for an unexpected holiday..."

"Well, yes..."

"Are you well?" he asked, eyeing Carroll carefully and not bothering to hide it.

Without quite knowing why, Carroll, pulled himself up a little straighter, "yes quite well. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know..." said Alistair turning and trailing a hand in the water. And then, "Many darkspawn around here now?"

"Not really, not these last few years..."

"We encountered a group about seven days ago..."

"So I heard. They didn't last long, did they?"

"No, they didn't," replied Alistair glancing at Carroll again briefly and then letting his eyes drift to the rather severe tower up ahead and then the hunched figure in the prow of the boat, "sorry, duty calls and all that..."

Carroll shrugged slight relieved, perhaps, "no worries."

"You all right, Neriya?" Alistair said putting his arm around her shoulder and sitting next to her, "why so gloomy? Isn't this a little bit like going home for you?"

"Not really," she said, "I think part of the problem is that I'm beginning to realise this never was home..."
He hugged her even closer and kissed her.

"Tell me, is it true that sometimes you wake up and you imagine you're back there?" He said gesturing towards the tower.

"Yes, yes it is, lots of times, who... Oh I get it... Wynne."

"But how come you never told me this..."

"It just didn't seem important at the time. There were other things. There were always other things."

"That's one of the things that most bothers me, you know?" he said, "that we never seem to have given ourselves the time to be like normal couples, concerned with everyday matters... seven weeks we've had, seven weeks, and you're off again."

"Huh," she replied propping her chin on her hand, "Well perhaps it is for the best, we may not have liked each other so much in 'normal' life..."

"Do you really believe that, Neriya? Really?"

She sighed. "No, Alistair, I don't... I agree, it's a shame..." there was a friendly silence between them for a few beats.
"So **** hunt continues..."

"That's right. And you are..."

"Jerking a few chains, Greagoir... Irving..." he said settling himself comfortably against the side of the boat.
"You look as though you're enjoying the thought..."

"You know me, once I get the bit between my teeth..."

Neriya laughed, "I almost feel sorry for them..."

"Oh, I do too... believe me. Nothing worse than a bored Theirin. Here to make mischief." he paused. "So who asks Irving about Flemeth's grimoire? I don't mind... I can use it to unnerve him a little more..."

"Bad Alistair, watch out Thedas..."

"Bet you fifty silver he'll say, 'Are you sure you found it in my room? I must have been doing some research...'"
"I'm not betting, I think that's exactly what he'll say."

"I wish you'd stay as my councillor, together we'd shake this place and others like it right to their foundations..." He said ruefully realising just how true it was as the words left his mouth.

"Lawler's good..." she said attempting to remind him of what he has.

"I know. I never told you how I recruited him, did I? After some nutcase tried to assault Anora and me in a chantry of all places on our official trip to Ostagar last year, I decided we needed someone to watch our backs, not a uniform, someone who could blend in. As usual Anora wouldn't play along 'It will isolate me from my people,' yeah, right, like she's ever gone to a pub for a drink with 'her people'..." Alistair snorted, "I was also getting fed up with sparring with stuffed dummies and those useless household guards, I was beginning not to be able to tell the difference between them, so I decided to recruit someone as a bodyguard and a sparring partner. I had a word with Kaylon, as he's on the gates he often gets approached. He asked me what I wanted and I said: 'keen, fast cunning and hungry, someone Anora would never allow you to recruit into the guards.' A few days later he says 'I think I may have found what you want I've told him to swing by tomorrow,' and, voila! There was Lawler."

"Look..." said Neriya pointing at a colourful little group of figures clustered on the quay at the foot of the tower.

"Oh great!" groaned Alistair, "always the reception party..."

                                                                     ~~...~~

When they arrived at the jetty Alistair clambered up first then bent down to pull up Neriya. Irving and Greagoir were standing shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, there were the customary nods and a few 'Your Majestys'. Alistair smiled and shook Chief Enchanter Irving's hand first and then turned to Greagoir shaking his but not letting go so quickly "Can we talk Knight Commander?" he asked mildly and Greagoir gestured behind him.

Alistair overheard Irving saying to Neriya, "You look very well Neriya, very, very well" and then "Ms Surana, this is Magnus, he will show you around today," holding his hand out towards a youngish mage with a blond beard and blue eyes. Neriya openly turned towards Alistair and shook her head. Alistair, already half way to the Knight Commander's room grinned back at her. She then turned to the young mage and asked rather rudely, "is your name really Magnus?"

Greagoir held open the door to his room or rather his cell it was so sparsely furnished and Alistair entered.
There was a small chair in front of Greagoir's desk and Alistair took it before being asked.

"To what do we owe the honour, Your Ma..."

"In here I'm not going to address you as Knight Commander, no disrespect intended, so you might as well call me Alistair and I'll call you Greagoir. Less syllables involved"

"Alistair..." said Greagoir as if trying out the name for the first time.

"Greagoir. Crack down on lyrium trafficking. Not in here of course, this is your domain, I respect that, but around the Tower, between here and Orzammar, mine."

"I see..." said Greagoir looking at the wall behind Alistair's head.

"If there is anything you can do to assist, Greagoir, I'll be extremely grateful."

"I shall think on it." He replied distractedly.

"Good, get back to me by no later than tomorrow." Alistair made to rise and then stopped, "oh yes, one other thing, I'd like personal access to the Tower, with your permission, of course..."

"Alistair," said Greagoir slowly, "you are the King of Ferelden, it is too much of a risk..."

"Run that by me again, Greagoir,"

Greagoir sighed, "a risk, it is a risk... So many mages gathered here, you might fall prey to a demon..."

"Greagoir, I've been trained as a templar... Hate to remind you of this but in the course of quelling the Blight I've encountered more fade demons than you've had hot dinners... Making allowance for the fact that you eat frugally, of course."

"It's just that..."

"Look, if you think my training needs updating... Update me, I'm more than happy..."

"The Chantry..."

Alistair leaned forward and said quietly, "...need never know, Greagoir, give me a suit and I'm just one more Templar. I won't do it often, and I will always advise you beforehand, it's not my intention here to catch you with your pants down... You have my word."

"Irving..."

"I'm speaking to him next, Greagoir."

The Knight Commander bowed his head. "As you say."

"Before I go, are there any problems I should know about, Greagoir, anything I can help you with?"

The Knight Commander sat back. "Once in a while some of our search parties disappear..."

"What do you mean by 'disappear'?"

"They go off. They don't come back."

"Five men."

"Yes, that's the standard size."

"How often does this happen?"

"Two to four times a year..."

"Do you send a search party after the search party?"

"Sometimes, if we have the manpower..."

"And what is the result?"

"Now and again we find remains, very rarely, survivors, but more often than not, nothing."

"What do you think is happening?"

"Desertions, most of the time. If not all some members of the party are deserting and getting rid of the others... Occasionally, perhaps something more sinister..."

"What do you mean?"

"The mages they are pursuing overcome them, or something else... something in the wilds..."

"So..."

"We've had a good period, for just over a year, since the end of the Blight, no-one has gone missing, well not an entire party, anyway, there will always be individual desertions. But now, I mean in the last few months, it seems to have started up again and we've lost two parties... Alistair, I don't know what your game is here, but I like you. I've always liked you, you should be warned."

"Thank you, Greagoir. Can you or someone show me around the tower later? I hope it's looking a bit better than since I was last here."

"Of course."

                                                                             ~~...~~

After his meeting with Irving, Greagoir took Alistair down to the armory and helped him suit up. It took quite a while covering all floors but Alistair realised he had retained a good enough idea of where everything was. No major changes seemed to have been made. He reflected that if there was one thing Templars and mages had in common it was their love of keeping things unchanged. On the second floor in middle of the library Greagoir stopped:

"There's your girl."

Neriya was sitting at a table piled high with books and manuscripts meticulously making notes. Magnus was sitting on a chair next to her looking bored. As they watched, Neriya looked up at Magnus and said something to him. He immediately jumped up and went to fetch a volume from the shelves.

"Well, she seems to have him well-trained at least."

Alistair nodded, "Unsurprising that." And they moved on without their presence being noted.

From somewhere before they reached the top they managed to grab a couple of apples so they stood on the roof for a while looking at the view crunching them. It had turned into a beautiful day the sun was high in the clear sky and the lake was a placid green/grey beneath them.

"I'd forgotten how hot it was inside one of those," remarked Alistair.

"I'll have one made for you." said Greagoir.

"Thanks. I'd like that."

"How's it going with Neriya?" asked Greagoir.

"It's complicated..."

Greagoir sighed, "it always is with mages..." he sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.

Alistair didn't comment but tossed his core over the side of the tower. "So desertions are a problem?"
"Always have been."

"Don't you think sometimes things could be done differently?"

"Like how?"

"Like if you join the Templars it's not for life but for a fixed period?"

"It takes at least three years to complete the basic training, as you know..."

"So six years then, start at seventeen, stay until you're 23 then decide if you want to remain or take a break, have a family, perhaps come back again later and rejoin... Wouldn't that address a lot of the problems, the desertions, the lyrium addictions, some of the bullying and the occasionally brutality?"

"It may."

"I lost count of all the Templars I saw when I was here last time who'd become easy prey for fade demons precisely because they were so unhappy, I could have been one of them, you know..."

"But the Chantry..."

"F*** the Chantry..."

Greagoir squared his shoulders, "The Templars are creatures of the Chantry, Alistair, don't be so infantile... The Chantry would say that we have the privilege of service, that we are working towards our salvation and that of all Thedas..."

"Do you believe that Greagoir?"

"Some days I do. Some days I have no choice but to." He added, "The Chantry would also say that our role is a reflection of that of the reverend mothers, they are the heart, we are the protecting arm..."

"There again, why do reverend mothers... Well you get my point."
"I see where you're coming from..."

"I am not an apostate, Greagoir..."

"I know that."

Just before they made a move to go back down, Greagoir asked, "What did it feel like to slay the archdemon, Alistair?"

Alistair who was about to put his helmet back on, turned towards him and replied, "It felt like ****, Greagoir. Just like s***."

Greagoir didn't comment.

                                                                                      ~~...~~

"You know, Neriya," he said later that evening when they were alone in the rather poky bedroom of The Spoilt Princess. "Irving was right you're looking really well. You look great. So much better than seven weeks ago when you turned up in Denerim like a starving kitten... But, you're... Not happy at the moment, are you?" She had, in fact been even grimmer on the way back than in the morning and had made it clear she did not want to speak until they were alone.

"Alistair, I have a request..."

"Go on."

"A request for you as King not as... Well..." her eyes went to the bed.

"King requests can be tricky..." He said suddenly serious. "I can't grant you one just because you're doing the asking, there is a balance..."

"I know, I know," she said.

"So what gives?"

"Do away with, or at least strive your best to do away with the practice of making mages tranquil."

Alistair sat on the bed, "Tall order."

"But you will try?"

"Yes, I give you my word, but it's difficult... Can I ask, the reason behind this request?"

"Apart from what happened to me?"

"Is there an apart?"

"Yes." She sat next to him, "I guess you have a right to know. Duncan had a lover... When he first came to Ferelden in 9:06, he and his party of mainly Grey Wardens stopped off at the Tower just like we did today, on their way to Orzammar. He'd been in the wardens little more than a year then, he was the junior..."

"Neriya, why are you researching this, what..."

Neriya looked at her feet. "I can't tell you yet..."

He sighed, "More mystery... Go on."

"Anyway, it would appear that he got away from the main party and had a tryst..."

Alistair suddenly grinned, "Sounds just like him, good old Duncan..." he looked at Neriya and became serious. "Carry on."

"... with a mage about his age called Viviane. Anyway, as you probably know he was quite busy criss-crossing Ferelden for most of his life but every now and then, he'd stop off at the Tower and visit her..."

"I'd really like to meet her, is she still alive? Is..."

"Alistair..." Neriya put her hand on his arm.

"Oh bugger."

"I met her briefly today. They made her tranquil shortly after Duncan's first visit... But the worst of it is... I think it was 'political'... Viviane was nothing special, certainly not a blood mage or anything like that, just a lively girl, I guess. In early 9:07 there was a falling out between the Wardens and King Maric on one side and the then Chief Enchanter, an Orlesian called Ramille, or something... The mages were attempting some sort of coup, I'm not entirely clear on the details here, and failed, but Ramille, obviously in accord with the then Knight Commander, had her... How could it be described? Neutralised? Out of spite, out of expediency... Anyway, Maric, or was it Loghain? Eventually had Ramille executed."

Alistair was silent for a long while after that. Then he said "Probably the best thing my old man did... What a sordid little story... Poor Duncan."

"Just so we're clear: Irving, Greagoir, they had nothing to do with all this... If I understand things rightly, back then, most of the positions of power in Ferelden were in the hands of a bunch of Orlesians... But, the practice of making tranquils continues..."

Alistair lay back on the bed and put a hand on his forehead, "This was not something I'd thought about in depth before. Thank you, thank you for bringing it to me. As I said, I will do what I can." and then, "I always thought that people in Jowan's position, at the least, mind, at the very least, should be given a choice: Make it quick... or tranquil. I know what I'd choose."

"What about your day?" she asked to distract him a little.

"My day... Neriya, tell me something," he hesitated, "When you were in the wilds, were there Templars there? I mean former Templars?"

Neriya looked down at her hands, "Tell me," Alistair said, "I'm not going to go down there and round them up, it's just something that cropped up in my conversation with Greagoir. Maker knows I understand why they ran..."

"Quite a few, actually, I must have met at least six or seven, mostly they were just trying to make a life for themselves. Mostly..."

"That's all I need to know. Thanks. As for the rest, Iriving said exactly what we anticipated he'd say. So I asked him for a copy of his research, he said he wasn't sure what he'd done with it but we agreed he'd look for it and hand it over to me tomorrow, bet he's working late tonight... Greagoir wasn't about to let me wander around the Tower but I pointed out that I'd had the training. What I didn't point out was the last time I used it was when that b*** was... Well, just to keep HER out of my head..."

Neriya, smiled. "Alistair, at last, a breakthrough..."

"What breakthrough?" he asked bad-humouredly.

"You never discussed it at all... Redcliffe. I never dared ask you. Now you've at least brought it up and told me something."

"I have a 'breakthrough' and in two days' time you're leaving me. Well, isn't life just great sometimes..."

                                                                                          ~~...~~

They had decided to spend the last day alone together. They went for a walk, had a picnic, considered, briefly, Irving's "research" that told them nothing new, but for the most part they talked.

"... and then there was all that lousy lovemaking, about a year ago, no wonder you ran, I can do better, you know..." Alistair said.

"I remember the day of your wedding..."

"Please don't, I was so pissed but I remember it too, I wish I didn't... that was almost..."

"You were very emotional..."

"I know, I..."

"And then you grabbed me..."

"Sorry..." he mutters beginning to regret ever raising this subject at such a delicate moment for them.

Neriya smiles at him, "Your eyes looked so very, very sad and possibly because we were up against a wall you felt even larger inside me than you usually do. I lost count of the times I ran through that particular scene in my head when I was away. I felt you really needed me, you needed me..."

"I did. I do..."

                                                                               ~~...~~

A little later back at their tent, Alistair closes his eyes and runs his tongue languorously around Neriya's mouth drawing her face close to his with one hand on back of her head, while with his other he caresses and strokes her between the legs. One of her hands rests against his back while the other clasps his length.

After a few moments Neirya pulls her lips away from his, her fingers loosen from around him and he feels her body arch slightly as she throws back her head and moans "Ahh". His lips find her neck and he moves his hand from her sex to her breast cupping its firm roundness with his palm and teasing her hardened nipple.

Neriya puts her lips to his again and they kiss anew, his hand returning to its subtle work in her nether warmth as she trembles slightly, her tongue entwining with his. Again, she withdraws after a while and this time her moan is a little deeper and a little longer, for one enticing moment her hands flying to the firm rosy tips of her breasts, her throat moving.

Alistair's fingers pause expectantly, he holds his breath as he watches her carefully, she is so desirable like this.
This time when Neriya returns to him she seems consumed with impatience and her lips grind against his as she strives to put her tongue as deep into his mouth as it can go. He yields there, tilting his face and baring his neck for her, but strokes her between the legs more insistently.

Suddenly Neriya is breaking, throwing her head back, her sex rippling around his fingers as she groans and calls out his name at the same time as she attempts to tear his hand away from her. Alistair clasps her tightly around the waist, pulls her firmly against him and digs his fingers even more deeply into her molten core, burying his face between her tender breasts, telling her again and again that he loves her and that she is beautiful, as she struggles for relief and begs him for mercy.

Then she tries to pull his hair but it's too short and she can't get a grip, so, eventually, making fists out of her small hands, she begins to beat the back and sides of his head which are the only places she can reach. Finally, he starts to laugh feeling her desperate little fists on his skull and he lets her go so she falls back on the bed.
"So you liked that then?" He asks grinning.

"Arse..." she takes a breath, "hole."

It is what she always calls him now at this stage of their lovemaking, especially if it has been particularly good.
That is why Alistair is still smiling as he moves so he is poised just over her and says "My turn now."

                                                                    ~~...~~

"Tell me Alistair," says Neriya soon afterwards, "What would you have done if I hadn't forgiven your misdemeanours..."

"My what?... Oh those... That would have been plan B."

"Plan B..." she echoes.

"Yes, plan B was a tawse." He sounds very self-satisfied.

"A tawse?"

"You don't know what a tawse is?" he says, genuinely surprised. "It's a strappy thing... Templars use it for self-flagellation... I kept one from earlier, happier times. Not."

"Let me get this right..." she says carefully, "are you saying that you would have beaten yourself until I forgave you?"

"No," Alistair says sounding appalled, "no, that wouldn't have been any fun... I would have given it to you..."

Neriya was silent for a while, "Alistair, sometimes you can be such a sick, promiscuous little Templar."

"You had that pre-prepared," he says accusingly.

Neriya didn't deny it. He propped himself up on his elbow so he was looking down at her. "And you Neriya," he says very slowly, "are an uppity, prissy little mage..."

                                                                                        ~~..~~

They are kissing at the gates to Orzammar and, as usual, Neriya breaks the kiss off first. "I have to go," she says, "I have to go..." and she picks up the bundle he has insisted on packing for her.

"I didn't think you could do this," Alistair says, "I never thought you could be so cruel..."

She looks at him. His face is utterly downcast. "Are those the last words you're going to leave me with? Sad, bitter words?" she says.

"It's what I feel," he replies sullenly.

She places her tattooed hand on his heart, he looks down at it. "I love you," she says.

"You know I love you too..."

"That's better." Neriya replies, "Alistair, one last thing..."

"What?" he says making eye contact.

"You're free..."

He looks at her uncomprehendingly. "Free, Alistair," she says, "Free until I return..." she turns and begins to walk away, "then Maker help them..." she says to herself, "Maker help them all..."

Neriya takes about twenty steps before he reacts.

"I didn't ask for that..." Alistair says loudly, "I didn't ask for it and I don't want it..."

Neriya turns slightly and waves and continues walking away.

"Come back by winter, Neriya!" Alistair shouts, "By winter, you hear me? Winter! Early winter!"

Alistair makes to run after her but Lawler, pulls him back. Alistair tries to get Lawler's hands off him but Lawler puts his arms around him. Alistair puts his face on Lawler's shoulder and starts crying.

Modifié par Maria13, 18 juillet 2010 - 12:48 .

[Maria13]

Chapter 20
Dragon 9:34
Eluvista/Cloudreach                                Ferventis/Justinian
South Reach/Denerim                            Denerim                                                                                        [Present]
The day after the funerals Alistair held a small meeting in the dining room at South Reach. In attendance were Bregeth, Lawler and Oswyn. He sat Bregeth to his right with Niamh Eleniel on her lap.

Once they had all settled he took Niamh from Bregeth, smiled at her and rocked her in his arms and began to talk.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said quietly. “I just thought that these last few days have been pretty hectic for all of us and it is only fair that I should attempt to make some things clear. This is Niamh Eleniel and she is my daughter by Neriya Surana, a mage of the circle, otherwise known as the hero of Ferelden.” There were subdued nods from Lawler and Oswyn.

“For what it is worth, therefore, she is also my personal heir and no other stands before her. Not so long ago I was concerned that I would not be able to produce an heir to ensure the future stability of Ferelden.

Now I actually have a child I find my viewpoint has changed completely, there are two things I wish for her in this life, the first that she be safe and the second that she be happy. I have no particular desire that she inherit the throne and will simply seek to bring her up as best I can.

On a personal note, I should say being King has not made me feel safe and has certainly not made me happy. Most days I get up and my first thought is to wonder why I haven’t yet run away… But she is a Theirin and, as I know to my cost, fate sometimes has a way of sniffing us out”

Everybody was silent. “Anyway, this being the case I would like, in order to give my daughter the best chance in life, that we restrict the knowledge of her parentage to those in this room. Bregeth has already sworn by her deity, I was wondering whether I could ask you Lawler and Oswyn to swear in turn…”

Lawler said, “I swear by the Maker and his holy wife Andraste…” and then looked a little lost.

“Can I suggest ‘not to disclose this child’s parentage and to always use of my best endeavours to protect her’?” asked Alistair.

Lawler nodded and repeated, “Never to disclose this child’s parentage and to always use of my best endeavours to protect her.”

“Thank you, Lawler.”

Oswyn began, “I swear by my honour and my life…” he paused, he had noticed Alistair looked somewhat taken aback “Alistair, I… There are things in life that make one doubt the existence of a deity, especially of a loving or caring deity…”

Alistair collected himself and replied, “Oswyn don’t worry, I understand. You should swear by what is most important to you, that is all I have a right to ask here… We are among friends.”

“Thank you. I Oswyn, heir to the Bann of Dragon Peak, do swear by my honour and my life that I will never disclose this child’s parentage and will always use of my best endeavours to protect her.”

Once Oswyn had finished Alistair visibly relaxed, “Now, suggestions as to where we go from here…” he said, “Perhaps we can say that Niamh is Bregeth’s child by a human father and that we have agreed with the Keeper to escort her to the alienage in Denerim…” he turned to Bregeth, “Bregeth would you be happy with that? I know it is an imposition…”

“We have to do what we have to do…” said Bregeth holding out her arms and taking Niamh back from Alistair.
“Thank you.” said Alistair, “Now, once we arrive in Denerim…”.

“I shall go ahead and secure a room for Bregeth and Niamh at one of the inns,” said Lawler “a reputable one,” he added, “and then in the following days we’ll find them somewhere permanent…” Alistair nodded.

“Oswyn can I ask you to stay here in South Reach for a month of so after we are gone and sort the estate out? Appoint a good steward or seneschal see that it starts thriving again. Try to find some of the people that you mentioned who used to work here prior to Habren taking over, they’ll be familiar with the property and that will help get things back on track even quicker. I am sure it benefits no-one to have such an important arling as this left to rack and ruin… See if you can pay me a visit in Denerim by Summersday”

“Thank you,” said Oswyn, “It will give me something to do… You know, I could ask my father for advice on managing an estate. I’m sure he’s been dying for me to do that for years…”

Alistair nodded. “Right, now the final thing… As you are aware, Lawler spoke to Baudouin and got some names as to who is behind the attack, the people that offered Habren financial inducements for it to take place. This is the list…”

Bregeth and Oswyn bent over it. Bregeth scanned it very smoothly and quickly and then smirked and sat back, turning her attention to Niamh. “I do not care who they are” she said, “I would kill them all.”

“Thank you for that measured and moderate opinion, Bregeth” said Alistair “I will be sure to bear it in mind.”

“My prince,” said Bregeth smiling humourlessly, “They would have killed you, me and your child without the faintest hesitation, they deserve no less.”

Alistair chose not reply. Oswyn took the parchment from him and perused it carefully, fascinated. There were six names…

Alistair had not been overly surprised to see the name of Bann Coerlic on the list, if ever there was a feud between the Theirins and another family it was with the Banns of Southern.

The old Bann, the current one’s father, also called Coerlic, had ambushed and slain Alistair’s grandmother, Moira the Rebel Queen, and had, in turn, eventually been killed by Alistair’s father, King Maric.

Of course, since Alistair was illegitimate and had been brought up bereft of all connection with his immediate blood family, such events were next to nothing to him personally, just names on the pages of dusty history books.

To Alistair’s recollection, his most significant encounter with the current Bann Coerlic had been some three years ago, Dragon 9:31, in Denerim, shortly before the Landsmeet which had elected him King. Neriya had exchanged a few words with the Bann in the Gnawed Noble Tavern where he had been sitting despondently in front of a beer. Unsurprising really, since his lands had been recently devastated by the Blight and he had lost some of his children to the darkspawn hoard.

What Alistair had had more difficulty understanding was his fervent pro-Loghain stance, he distinctly recalled the Bann saying of Ostagar: “Why would Loghain leave half our own army to die when a Blight threatens? I take him at his word: The battle could not be won.”

It was more what the Bann did not say with which Alistair took issue. Loghain had left the field of battle at Ostagar and in doing so might well have preserved half the army, but he had also let King Cailan, his half-brother, and Duncan and the other Grey Wardens perish, how could that be justified?

But, even worse, in Alistair’s eyes, Loghain had then sought to blame the Grey Wardens themselves for the King’s death, putting his own life and that of Neriya at risk. A man might make a mistake or commit an act of which he was ashamed, but to after that seek to shift the responsibility for that mistake or act onto others who were wholly innocent of it, in Alistair’s view, that was truly ignoble and despicable. Further, Alistair would never forgive nor forget anyone who threatened Neriya’s existence. For both things, more than for abandoning the field at Ostagar, Loghain’s life was forfeit. For all those things, Loghain had paid at Alistair’s hands and he did not, for a moment, regret being his executioner.

As for the Bann, as far as Alistair was concerned, he was perfectly entitled to his opinions and to be a fool and a dupe if he so wished. He had probably met the man several times since, at functions in the palace and such but he had never, to his recollection, had so much as a conversation about the weather with him. Of course, now that Bann Coerlic’s name was on this list, their relationship, was on a whole new footing.
The only other name Alistair had recognised on the list was the Bann of Walford sited just north of South Reach, in the southernmost part of the Bannorn. He could not for the life of him recall the person who held it. The remaining five names were unfamiliar.

Alistair asked Oswyn “Do you recognise any of those names apart from Bann Coerlic? Why should they conspire against me? Do you know who the Bann of Walford is? I really can’t remember…”

“That would be Bann Domhnall… You know, the plump one…”

“Not a clue…” said Alistair shaking his head, “Anyway, what of the others?”

“I really don’t know…” replied Oswyn

“Oswyn, could I ask that you speak to Habren and run these names by her before we leave? Also if she could tell us who they are and where they live, that might be helpful, too. Since she knows you, she might be more forthcoming with you than she would with Lawler…”

Oswyn said, “Yes, I think I can do that…”

                                                                                   ~~...~~

Just over two weeks later, shortly after arriving in Denerim and still in his travelling clothes, with Bregeth and Niamh newly installed at an inn and Habren in a cell in Fort Drakon, he was unpacking his things in his room when he felt someone standing by the door. He looked over and saw that it was Anora.

“Dearest…” he said straightening with the slightest touch of irony.

“Alistair…” replied Anora, always as if to a naughty child. “Are you well?”

“Well enough,” he replied, “I am here, am I not? Only strained my arm…”

“I heard…”

He went over to her, for a brief moment she thought he was going to embrace her but he just placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length studying her face very intently. Anora withstood his scrutiny with icy indifference.

“I cannot…” Alistair muttered almost to himself, “If I could read you, what would I see now?” he asked in a louder voice.

“How do I know?” she answered, “don’t we all see things differently?”

He let her go with a small sound of disappointment.

“I will not waste my breath on pointless denials…” said Anora, as he turned away and went back to unpacking his books.

“As you say.” He replied, his back to her.

That night he wrote to Eamon and Teagan to tell them he needed to speak to them when they came to Denerim in a few weeks time.

                                                                                           ~~...~~

After he left Fort Drakon he felt drained. It had been a long day, a long night, a long two months since he returned from South Reach but having finally made a decision on Habren, and one that he was happy with, he felt he had brought at least part of it to an end.

Still a lot to do, though, he thought, as he left the shadow of the fortress behind him. In his life there always seemed to be a lot to do. His original idea had been to return to the palace but once he got there, his feet continued walking, despite the foul weather, roughly following the course of the River Drakon southeast, towards the alienage.

He stopped once or twice on the way, if the night was cold it had also turned clear. He had a particular favourite place on the way to the alienage it was a square one side of which opened out on the road that followed the river. The buildings around it mostly belonged to rich merchants, he imagined, and were three stories high and prosperous and solid looking without being extravagant. They were also all quite different without being mismatched or haphazard. The lower part of them formed an arcade around the three sides of the square and in the middle there was a standpipe with stone basins, that during the hot days of summer, inevitably, would attract hoards of noisy children… He thought he could hear them now, even though it was night and dark.

Shortly before he came into view of the large gated entrance to the alienage a hand fell upon his shoulder from behind. He turned quickly and drew, “I have a sword,” he said dryly.

“I know,” said a light female voice, “and a large one too…”

Alistair sighed lowering the blade, “Not tonight… I am not in the mood…”

“Woe is Ferelden when its Lord tires of love…” said the stranger in an easy, mocking tone.

Alistair could only see the lower part of her face. There was a pert smile under the hood of her cape, her lips were perfectly lined and perfectly rouged in deep crimson, an Orlesian courtesan could not better the precision of that mouth, he thought. Her voice seemed familiar but he could not place it.

“Very poetic.” He remarked, and added “Leave me, woman, but take some silver for your trouble and rest what remains of the night, the Maker go with you…” he dropped some coin into her small outstretched hand.
“Thank you, sweet Prince, may you, too, dream well…” she brushed past him and melted into the shadows.
“I shall try.” He said sheathing. “I shall try.”

In due course, he came to the door he was seeking and knocked, there was a muffled salutation and it opened the little, dark elven servant girl standing barefoot in the doorway. “Ser, the lady sleeps…” Alistair wondered idly what ‘the lady’ would say if she knew she were called such behind her back.

“I know” he said walking past her, “I know it is late…”

But no sooner had he gained the bottom of the staircase than a light shone from above. “Who goes…”

He pulled his hood down, “It is I…”

“I thought the girl hung at dawn…” whispered Bregeth from above, her words echoing faintly down the stairwell.
Alistair did not reply but walked up the two flights suddenly feeling a week’s tiredness dragging him down. Bregeth stood at the head of the stairs wearing a nightshift, a lamp in one hand, his child in the other, curled up against her breast, asleep. As soon as he approached Bregeth held her out to him and he took her, cradling her small warm body in his arms.

“You look exhausted…” said Bregeth.

“I am.” He replied looking down at Niamh.

“I shall take the divan, you can have the bed…” she said.

“I did not come here to turf you out of your own bed…”

“Nevertheless.”

Alistair walked towards the bedroom holding the still sleeping Niamh. He gazed longingly at the sturdy double bed with the crisp white sheets and in hushed tones said to Bregeth, “Let’s be civilized about this…” then he hesitated, “you know I, well I…”

“You are struggling to find polite words to tell me that you do not find me sexually desirable.” She summed up.

“That’s… Yes.”

“I shall make it simple for you, Alistair. Although I respect you, as I have said before, I am not interested in males and even less in male shems.” She took the still sleeping Niamh from him and set her down in a cradle and climbed into the far side of the bed next to it.

Alistair began removing his clothes and dropped them on a pile on the floor. “Tonight…” he said.

“Rest. We shall talk on the morrow.” She replied.

When he got down to his smallclothes he crawled into the bed on the opposite side to Bregeth and, feeling strangely at ease, quickly fell fast asleep.

He was dreaming of a clear sky and a pool of calm green water not unlike Lake Calenhad when suddenly the peaceful landscape was rent by a scream. He opened his eyes, Bregeth stood by the cradle, “she is hungry, go back to sleep, I shall see to her…” he turned over and did.

This time it was more of a slow, miserable wail, he woke immediately. Bregeth was fretting on her side of the bed. “She must need changing…”

“I guess it is my turn…” Alistair said. Bregeth sighed, lit a lamp and he got up feeling wearier than Thedas and walked towards the cradle.

“Put her in the bed between us, she’ll probably sleep better like that.” said Bregeth once he had finished.

“Will she be alright?”

“Oh yes.”

He put Niamh on the mattress between them facing towards him, he reached out to touch his daughter and she gripped one of his fingers and cooed sweetly, he chuckled. “I was thinking what I would tell Niamh when…” he said to Bregeth, but before he could finish the sentence, he was dead to the world once more.

                                                                                           ~~...~~

The following morning he was just pulling on his boots in the parlour when Bregeth wandered in, still in her shift, carrying Niamh.

“You’re going.” She said sitting down at the table, looking at the empty porridge bowl in front of him.

“I was, yes,” said Alistair.

“What happened last night?” Bregeth asked.

He finished pulling on his boot, sighed, sat up straight and faced her. “I turned Habren over to the Grey Wardens, on condition they take her out of Ferelden and that she never come back…”

Bregeth was silent, looked down at Niamh and rearranged her wrappings nodding.

“If she does not die in the joining…” Alistair continued, “she will be made such as I am…”

Bregeth looked over at him and then, after a few beats, he realised her gaze had become fixed. He leaned over the table towards her, waved his hand in front of her eyes, “Bregeth, Bregeth!” grabbed her arms and was about to shake her when she came to.

“I am sorry, Alistair,” she mumbled.

He sat back, looking worried, “Are you alright?”

“Just a little tired,” she said running her free hand over her forehead, then she added, “Yes, if she is made such as you are… That will be punishment enough…”

It was not until he had reached the street that meandered by the river and got his first eyeful of the day of the Drakon in all its dirty, tawdry glory, that the full meaning of her words hit him.