'Cause I see the stars in the freckles on her face.
And I'm seein' God every time she says my name.
So mother Mary, pray for me, without her I'm so lost.
Her love is my religion.
-Her Love is my Religion by The Cab
Alistair knew he was starting to fall for the other Warden and once it started, it spiraled wildly out of control. And now here they were, in her tent with him standing awkwardly at the entrance. The warrior laughed at him and he only blushed harder. She dropped her heavy plate armor heavily onto the ground and looked up at him expectantly — standing in nothing but her under-clothes. He had learned quickly that dwarves had no shame, and his partner was no different. He was at least happy that she was not drunk or he probably would have denied her offer (who was he kidding, he still couldn't have said no to her).
But he couldn't keep his eyes off of her and oh Maker what had he gotten himself into. He had agreed to join her for the night and now his mouth was dry and his lower garments restricting. She was beautiful with red hair and a mess of freckles. Alistair had never imagined he would be allowed to bed such a woman. Sure, his mind had often wandered, especially about the certain dwarf who now stood in front of him, even if he was shamed by this fact.
Wait, was she waiting on him for something?
He swallowed hard and finally was able to meet her eyes again. Her laugh that followed was comforting and so like her. She touched the cold steel of his chest piece and stood on her toes. He kissed her, took in her taste. The female Warden, though, was not content with a simple peck on the lips and Alistair would never deny her. She deepened the kiss, added tongue and teeth and he took her in and it made him hungry. She slipped her hands under his armor, prying and pulling with practiced grace. Sometimes he thought she was an even better warrior than him. She seemed to be better at everything, more experienced in battle, in romance and, of course, in drinking. If anyone had dared to tell him he would fall in love with a dwarf, he would have laughed in their face — but here he was and he wouldn't have it any other way.
He wanted her and he had for so long but now that it was finally happening, he was scared. He had ached for her for so long and when he finally got up the nerve to bring it up — it all happened so fast. But he almost welcomed that fact, because truth be told, any day could be their last.
"And Maker be damned if I die a virgin!"
Did he say that out loud? She just shot him a wink and tossed his chest peice to the side, already working on his leg plates. When all the heavy armor was thrown to the side, she grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, a strangely gentle action for a dwarf. She pushed down on his chest and he sat on her cot.
"Just tell me if I'm going too fast, okay?"
The Templar nodded stiffly, his head hazy. She smiled, kissing him again, touching his hair and his shoulders and then his chest. She was strong and it was her that was holding him up, holding him together. He needed this and he needed her. Her touch was just a ghost on his thigh at first but it still made him flinch. Would he be able to live up to her standards? Would he be able to make her feel good too? Would be good enough?
All doubts promptly left when her hand grasped his rigid member through the cloth. He gasped, his hips jerking into the touch. Of course he had touched himself a few times before (always with fear of being struck down by the Maker himself at any moment), but this…well nothing could have prepared him for this. He released an embarrassing moan which just provoked his partner even more. Her face was slightly flustered at this point and he wanted so badly to keep watching her face to see the flash in her eyes when he reacted but as she slipped off the last of his clothing, he found himself unable to keep his eyes open.
Her fingers were gentle against his member and he hated it, it wasn't her. He craved more but when he attempted to buck his hips, she held him down with a strong hand. She was teasing him. He hated it. He loved it. He barely noticed her sliding down his body until he felt her mouth trail down his stomach.
"H-hey, wait, wha-what a-are you d-doing?" he stammered, his heart racing.
She smirked at him before she took his member into her mouth. He yelped in pleasure and threw his head back. If he wasn't in love with her before, he sure was now. It wasn't long before her movements caused something to start building up inside of him. There was a flash of fear in the back of his mind; he had always stopped at this point when he was touching himself. He swallowed, and tried to pull away.
She moved back ever so slightly, "Don't hold back," she whispered against his member, swirling her tongue around the head before taking him once again into her mouth. He obeyed and with a strangled moan, he exploded. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the rest of the camp heard him, but that was hardly a concern at a time like this. His vision flashed white and he had never felt something so wonderful. If this is what heaven felt like, he knew why people wanted so badly to be with the Maker.
The female Warden leaned back and let him catch his breath.
"You…you didn't swallow that d-d-did you?" he asked, panting. She winked at him and he covered his burning face, "Oh Maker…" He was a sinner.
But she still had plans for him and while his eyes were covered, she shed her undergarments and without hesitation, straddled his waist. He jerked and gasped in surprise. The place between her legs was warm and wet against his leg and his hunger reignited.
"You are sorely mistaken if you think I'm done with you," the dwarf's voice was low and Alistair couldn't help but think about how badly he wanted to hear her scream.
He swallowed hard, staring at her. He was unable to keep his eyes from wandering and his member twitched against her thigh. She just sat there, grinning as he took her in. Her freckles were thick, spread across her shoulders and breasts like stars in the night sky. He wanted to worship her and in the back of his mind he knew she would do more for this land than the Maker ever could.
He finally tore his eyes away from her breasts to meet hers. He licked his dry lips.
"C-can I touch you?"
She took his hand and pressed it against her breast.
"Take what you want, Alistair. You are a Grey Warden, a prince and you deserve to world."
He hoped she realized that she was his world. His hands were shaky at first but he mimicked her actions, placing kisses and nips across her neck and collarbone. Her skin was battle-worn yet perfect. He played connect the dots with her freckles using his tongue and his hands cupped her breasts like they were holy artifacts. She seemed to purr, edging him on.
He glanced up at her face and bit his lip. She watched him expectantly. He touched her dark nipples experimentally and she hissed quietly. He took that as a good sign. The Templar flicked his tongue across them, savoring the taste of her skin. She pushed against him, pulling his hair. He grew braver, more urgent but his attention stayed solely on her breasts and nipples. The Warden, however, was a dwarf and dwarves were not known for their patience.
"Lower." It was not a request and her voice was thick with lust.
He wondered if this was what Liliana had felt like when she had her vision of the Maker because he could not, would not, deny such a demand. His hand started to shake again as he slid it down her muscular stomach and touched her curls timidly. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for and he hesitated. He wanted to make her feel good too but he honestly had no idea how.
She laughed at him.
"Let me show you," the dwarf sat up and scooted back. She opened her legs to him and he watched with an embarrassing fascination. "Like this," she mumbled, sliding her own hand to touch herself.
She used her fingers to spread her plump lips apart so that he could see the pink flesh between. He couldn't look away and it was dishonorable. His face burned and he never ever imagined his first time to be like this. He had always imagined bedding another virgin on their wedding night, where they were awkward together with clumsy touches and shaking hands.
Yet, this was alright with him and he found himself mesmerized as she rubbed the bundle of nerves near the top of her slit. The dwarf's thighs quivered and she sighed. Then, slowly, she circled her entrance before pushing two of her fingers inside. She moaned lightly and it was a sound he could not get enough of.
Alistair found himself jealous.
He reached forward and pushed her hand away. Her eyes flickered and she smirked. He started how she had, touching her clit first. He rubbed it softly and she pushed her hips forward. He was scared of hurting her so he started with only one finger and she made that sinful noise again. She was slick and hot. He wanted more.
"Just like that," her voice was breathless and his ego swelled.
Without warning, he leaned his head down and, just like she had done to him, he tasted her. She jerked and let out a loud moan. She chuckled breathlessly, tugging at his hair. He put his tongue to work against her nerves and poking it against her opening. She was having a hard time keeping her voice down and everyone knows dwarves are never the quiet type. He decided then that he liked dwarves.
He didn't know exactly what would happen but he thought it had to be something like what had happened to him. He moved his finger inside of her, adding another carefully. He stroked her insides until she was shaking; keeping his tongue busy with her clit. She suddenly hissed loudly, a long, drawn out moan following. He froze as he felt her tighten on his fingers and she shuddered violently. He pulled back.
"A-are you okay? I-I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked meekly, trying to hide his intense arousal at the sounds she made.
"No, no. Oh, Ancestors, that was perfect. You're a fast learner," she was panting and it took her twice as long as it should have to speak. They both fell silent aside from her trying to catch her breath but for only a moment. "I think you're ready for the main event now."
He blushed and she pulled him towards her. She reached down and gripped his member again. He was scared he would be too big for her; she was a dwarf after all but the female Warden didn't hesitate. She kissed him roughly, hungrily and stroked his member. Alistair couldn't think straight as she rubbed her slick entrance against the head. He felt the urge to thrust forward but was able to hold himself back. She broke the kiss and slid just the tip into her. He growled, a deep, almost primal sound but she kept her hand firmly wrapped around his base, not allowing him to go any deeper.
She kissed him chastely on the lips and pulled her hand back. She thrust her own hips up, burying him fully in her. He moaned loudly in pleasure and there was no doubt in his mind that the others could have heard it. This was heaven, he thought. He rolled his hips and she groaned. He pulled out slightly before thrusting back into her. She made that noise again — the one that made his whole mind go blank. The Templar found a rhythm, even if it was erratic and desperate and his partner left scratch marks on his back. There was nothing quiet about either of them but certainly neither could bring themselves to care at the moment.
He could feel himself getting close again and he didn't know what to do. She wrapped her legs around his, making pulling out not an option and he kissed her feverishly. He wouldn't last long and she knew it. She reached her hand between them, rubbing her nerves in time with his irregular thrusts. He held her close, his eyes squeezed shut.
"I love you," he panted suddenly in her ear and he believed it then. He couldn't run from it any longer. (he would have to start running again, but not now—)
She shuddered, arching her back, "I guess I could say the same to you," she said with bated breath.
"Just say it, damn it," he growled and she found the strength to chuckle. The female Warden kissed him roughly and their teeth clashed.
"I love you too," she breathed finally.
And that was all it took to send Alistair over the edge.
Being King was terrifying. Realizing he had to have an heir was worse. As a Grey Warden, Alistair was so very aware that he didn't have much time left; he could never forget that fact — never hide from it. He wanted to run from his responsibilities. He was scared like always but as he watched his fellow Grey Warden be so strong and brave, he realized he was sick of being afraid.
And that realization hurt worse than anyone could imagine. He had to grow up; he had to stand his ground. He knew what it meant. He knew he would have to end this. He was already in too deep and his head hurt. It took a lot of courage to finally approach her and he thought she would be furious at him. He found her drinking ale in the empty dining room.
He told her they needed to talk. She leaned back, pulled out a chair and poured him a drink. He nervously declined.
"This is about us, isn't it?" she asked and she already sounded drunk.
"I…how did you…I mean, yes."
She stared into her mug and he started to have second thoughts. She was brutish and beautiful. He realized he was staring and she was waiting for him to talk. He took a deep breathe.
"As king…I have duties…" he began.
"We all have duties, King Alistair," there was a kind of distain in her voice and it hurt him.
"Well yes…but…I need to have a heir. That is my duty."
"The taint passes from parents, I'm guessing," she was smart, she always knew there was a catch. He knew she only wished everything had been plainly laid out for her in the beginning.
"Oh, please don't make this harder than it is…I love you, okay? I really really do! But…I need to end it now…before I lose the strength to do so."
He couldn't look at her face, her eyes drew him in. He was scared he would lose himself in them. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her, even if it wouldn't be a long life. She was the only one who understood this whole Warden thing, the nightmares, the hunger and, oh Maker, the voices.
She sat her tankard down. "I have one request then."
He glanced at her, his breath caught in his throat. He nodded stiffly, unable to deny her anything. He probably would have forgotten this whole conversation if she asked, but she knew better. She knew what was best and always had.
"Spend one last night with me."
This time Alistair undressed her. It was a kind of hurried, desperate and lust filled encounter. There was an air of sadness but also a feeling of letting go — of goodbyes.
It tasted like freedom. For both of them.
He pulled off her armor as she tugged at his. Her lips tasted like ale. He wanted more of her, at least for tonight. He pushed her against the closed door and didn't care if anyone heard them. He wanted everyone to know what he was giving up for this Kingdom. There was strength behind his touches and he had grown up and he was brave.
She had taught him well and she was just as strong, returning his kisses and bites with just as much vigor. Their heavy plate clattered noisily to the floor and his hands groped at her breasts roughly. The dwarf clawed at his back, making noises of pleasure in the back of her throat. Here, together, they could forget about everything. They could forget about the Blight, about their duties and about the ending of them. In the back of his mind, Alistair wished she would tell him to stay and he wished she would put up a fight for him.
But she wouldn't so instead he touched her with urgency. She took control because she was the commander and she was the leader, leading him to the large bed but never once breaking their contact. She pushed him to the bed, running her hands through his hair and dragging her nails down his chest. She traced his scars as he had once traced her freckles. She ground herself against his hardness and he groaned.
"Not yet," she purred and her voice was hoarse and hard.
She kissed him, biting his lips until they were swollen and leaving her mark on his neck and across his collarbone. If this was the end, he would not soon forget about her. In the nights they had shared before, Alistair had learned this about her — she feared being forgotten. She reached down to stroke his member, touching him in a way that showed control and strength. She was experienced and he was not. She wanted to remind him of this.
She rubbed herself against him again and he thrust his hips, trying to gain entrance. She chuckled breathlessly. She made sure he was watching as she touched herself, using one hand to thrust her fingers in and out while just the fingertips of her other hand caressed him. He didn't look away and he cursed her. He used to not want to be in control, but she had changed his mind — only to take it away at a time like this.
He wanted to take her roughly, push her into the bed and how could a dwarf be so strong?
She noticed his conflict and captured his lips in a kiss. Before he could even react to the kiss, she lowered herself onto him, taking in his full length. He groaned loudly in surprise but she did not move, only deepened the kiss. She kept one hand on his chest and the other on his hip, preventing him from moving. She rolled her hips slowly, feeling him deep inside of her.
She pulled back so their lips were just barely bushing against each other, "Alistair…" she whispered hoarsely.
"Damn it, woman, you better move," he growled, throwing his head back. She was so warm and tight and he wanted more. He wanted to lose himself in her. He wanted to forget.
She complied easily enough, but not nearly at the pace he wanted. Her movements were slow and almost painful, nothing like the desperate pace they had set earlier. It drove him insane. He grasped her hips in an attempt to speed her up but she just grinned. He tightened his grip and growled. She couldn't be that strong when she was that small, right? Even though his head was hazed over with lust, he got an idea.
Alistair moved his hand and found her clit with a practiced ease. He took it between his fingers and rubbed it coarsely. Her hips jerked and she gasped loudly. Her grip faltered and he regained his control. The Templar flipped them and hissed in pleasure as he was able to speed up. He had learned to keep a more even pace, but it was still filled with desperate need. The dwarf's eyes flashed in amusement and she rolled her hips to keep up with his thrusts. She pulled his body close to hers, both of them slick with sweat. She moaned in his ear and dug her nails into his shoulder blades.
"I-I'm close, oh Maker, I'm close…" he panted, his hands causing bruises on her hips. She just nodded against his chest and pulled him into a kiss. It tasted like a goodbye — it tasted like ale.
He came hard inside of her and he felt her shudder in response. After, she laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. He pushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. His heart ached but it was the end and there was a comfort in it too.
Alistair wasn't surprised when woke up in the morning to an empty bed.
It hurt everyday he had to look at her, but she was stronger. She was strong when she heard about the Horde, she was strong when she found out about how to kill the Archdemon, and she was strong when she offered herself as the one to deliver the final blow.
But the female Warden was strongest when she approached Alistair that night and told him about the Ritual.
He knew it wasn't because she didn't want to die. He knew she wasn't afraid. After all this time he knew her, she was never afraid and there was no doubt that it hadn't changed now. She was worried about him. Alistair was not strong. If he truly lost her, like he had lost his brother, like he had lost Duncan, he would not be able to be the king he needed to be. She knew this because she knew him maybe even better than he knew himself.
And he agreed to it because he knew there was no way she would allow someone else to kill the Archdemon and become a sacrifice. He agreed because he was selfish. He would be lying if he said his member didn't jerk when Morrigan grabbed his hand and he would be lying if he said he didn't want to kiss her. But he would also be lying if he said it was anything like what he had with the Warden.
Alistair never thought he would use what a dwarf taught him on a witch. Of course he also never would have thought that he would bed Morrigan.
He refused to look at her though and she didn't seem to mind. They didn't kiss and he pushed her onto her hands and knees in front of him. With one hand pumping his own member, he ran his other down her spine. She shivered and he continued down the swell of her hips until he wound his hand around to touch her opening. He brushed his finger against her clit and listened to her breath hitch. He moved his hand on his member faster and closed his eyes. He pushed two fingers inside her and thrust them in and out.
"Are you ready?" he asked after a moment. She laughed and it was not comforting. It was a witch's laugh. He flinched but his member throbbed painfully.
"Take me, Templar," her voice practically dripped and he couldn't even think of a sarcastic remark to shoot back because he wanted her.
He shoved himself inside of her and she hissed. He grabbed her hips but left no marks and leaned over her body but did not touch his chest to her back. She was fine with this. He moved quickly and it was animalistic and primal. He grunted loudly but she was quiet, only making small sounds of pleasure. He almost wanted her to be louder. It took longer for him to feel the pleasure start to build up than he was used to but when it started he welcomed it. He moved faster and she grew a little louder.
"Getting close are we?"
He growled at her, leaning in closer. She smelled like the Wilds. He missed the smell of ale. He felt her reach down and touch herself and before he knew what was happening, she started to shake and clench around him. He cursed her as he came.
Alistair redressed himself and left Morrigan alone in his room to gather herself and presumably whisper some magic words. When he shut the door, the dwarven Warden was sitting against the wall across the hall. She had a bottle of wine in her hand.
She offered him some and he took the whole bottle, pressing it to his lips.