Under a Dalish Moon
for Zevgirl
First it was the nightmares. Of course, the root sticking in her back, as well as the lack of proper blankets or anything remotely resembling a mattress, did not help matters either. Andi grumbled under her breath, a typical reaction as of late, and sat up, pulling her hands through her tangled hair. It did not seem fair that everyone else—even Alistair—was sleeping soundly near the dying fire inside the borders the Dalish camp. After watching the moon travel to its highest peak, she knew that sleep, for yet another night, would be futile. From the darkness of the Brecilian wood came the soft rustle of leaves, followed by the perfunctory clearing of a throat. A fear-tinged gasp escaped from her throat.
"I did not mean to frighten you, Warden. Your tossing and turning threatens to wake the entire forest."
The silhouette of a Dalish man just beyond the waning firelight approached.
"Excuse me?" Andi knew that the Dalish were suspicious of outsiders, but did not realize they slept like princesses.
He stepped forward into the glow of the fire. "As the clan storyteller, it is my business to know who might have trouble sleeping in these woods. Please, come with me. I don't think your companions will miss you."
Andi shrugged to herself and followed Sarel to another clearing just north of the settlement. He invited her to sit by a small, intimate fire.
"Warden. Your companions call you Andi. Such an odd—dare I say—diminutive name for a Fereldan noble woman."
Maybe it had been a mistake to follow him here. Perhaps this storyteller only wished to further blame the entire human race for the plight of the Dalish. Despite her insomnia, she wasn't in the mood for that, no matter how true it might have been.
"My name is Andraste. However, people tend to give you weird looks when you tell them that. And, when you call upon their troops to fight the Blight… they give you even stranger looks. Either they think I am a few arrows short of a quiver, or I am the Prophetess incarnate. So, I hacked off a few letters—and poof—just like that, people started taking me seriously again. Obviously, my parents had very high hopes for me."
"We Dalish also like to bless our children with the names of those we honor." He smiled, a little too serenely, Andi thought. She was starting to regret that she had not pretended to fall back asleep. She didn't want to talk about her family—or Andraste either. All she wanted was another boring story of the fall of Arlathan to lull her back into the abyss of sleep.
"So, are you going to tell me a bedtime story?"
The storyteller chuckled, giving Andi the uncomfortable sense that something else was afoot.
"It is not uncommon for our hunters to experience insomnia on the eve of a great hunt. I've spoken with both the Keeper and our First, and we've agreed that you should be treated with the same respect as one of own. We've seen what the taint is capable of and the wind whispers of the horror that lies beyond this forest. So, when the moon is full and the hunter cannot sleep, the Storyteller will offer him a means of… relaxation."
She was not expecting that last word. "Relaxation?"
"Yes. It's a little more complicated than that. But no need for alarm. You can ask any hunter in the Clan how highly desired this ritual is. We cannot advertise that we keep stock of the Elixir of Dreams else the entire camp would be flat out on their backs and nothing would ever get done." Sarel offered a playful giggle as he imagined that scenario.
Her curiosity was officially piqued. A highly controlled elixir that brought about a deep state of relaxation? She was in. It reminded her of a time when she and Fergus had stumbled on a forgotten stash of Antivan brandy and the laughter, stumbling, and of course vomiting, that had ensued.
"I'd be honored." She used a dignified tone, one that her years of allocution and protocol lessons had engrained. However, her gut reaction was to offer a toast she had once heard Zevran recite at the Pearl.
He turned and nodded. Andi hadn't realized that they were not alone. A white haired elf with a heavily tattooed face placed a clay bowl into Sarel's expectant hands.
"If you do not mind, Warden Andi, Elora will stay to ensure that you awaken."
Andi quirked an eyebrow. A highly desired and dangerous elixir? She nodded to signal she was ready.
"Take three full mouthfuls. One right after the other. No more and no less." With all the decorum of a Revered Mother in the presence of the Divine, he handed her the bowl. She received it, trying to avoid licking her lips in anticipation, until its acrid stench hit her nose. It smelled of death—a mixture of Alistair's socks and a darkspawn corpse left too long in the sun. She recoiled in an odd combination of disgust and interest.
"If you don't inhale, the taste is not so bad. Remember, three mouthfuls. And think of a place where you might find respite."
Her first mouthful went down like sludge found at the bottom of a slop bucket that had been lit on fire. Fortunately, the experience wrought such pain that she paid no attention to the taste. When the foul drink hit the pit of her belly, it sent a cascade of euphoric tingles through every muscle in her body. By the time she had taken the third, Elora had retrieved the bowl and stars sparked in the periphery of Andi's vision.
Through velvet darkness she swam, blissful and unaware. A faraway voice reminded her to go somewhere, to find an ideal destination. Andi treaded in the silky depths unable to imagine of such a place. Home was out of the question, as it held too many painful memories, and most places she had visited throughout Ferelden were too filthy or associated with annoying people. So, she imagined the last place she had been—the Circle of Magi at Kinloch Hold. Even within this in-between place, she realized the oddness of her choice but, while she had been there, she could tell that it had once offered the mages both security and comfort. And, more importantly, it was full of handsome templars. So that's where she went.
Piece by piece, the world reconstructed itself around her. Like a slap in the face, she arrived, the flagstones chilling her bare feet as a zing of electricity flickered down her spine. Her surroundings were more real than dream, the only hint that she was only a step beyond the borders of the waking world was a soft glow that radiated off her skin. Moreover, she no longer wore her haggard leathers, either. She was blissfully clean, wearing nothing but a sheer, gauzy shift, which hugged her every curve. The gossamer fabric drifted over her breasts, caressing them, reminding her of touches she had not enjoyed since joining the Grey Wardens. A soft moan came from a nearby room.
At the doorway she paused, chasing away her fears of terrifying the unsuspecting templar. This wasn't real, despite the way it felt. A blond-haired man sat at the edge of his bed, his arm betraying his current undertaking. She floated in, silent and on tiptoe, marveling at his vigor and the muscular contours of his arms. And, as she skimmed the edge of the bed, ready to behold a full-on and close-up view of the man, he raised his chin and let out a long-drawn-out sigh. Since this was her dream, he would be expecting her, so she glided into his field of vision, immediately recognizing Ser Cullen.
"I thought I heard you lurking in the shadows." He leaned back on the bed and flashed a coy look.
She found herself kneeling between his legs, gently raking her nails down the taut, firm muscles of his thighs, and helped him out of the breeches that pooled at his ankles. The front of his untucked tunic curtained what lay at the apex, an area she was intent on thoroughly exploring.
He traced a finger across the line of her jaw and tipped up her head to gaze down at her. "We'd better hurry else the Knight-Commander might catch us after curfew."
She needed no other cue to get down to business and reached beneath the folds of wrinkled cotton to grasp the warm prize that was already commanding her attention. With a gentle squeeze, she offered slow and firm strokes, impressed at how far her fingers stretched around him. Cullen hummed, a low reverberating growl, as if her touch had met some long-neglected need. Her palms grasped his hot velvety skin, up and down, working in rhythm with her quickening breath. When touching no longer met her own desires, she retraced her steps with her tongue, tracing his hardened shaft until she found the most sensitive places, swirling and licking before taking him in her mouth. He met this change with a gasp. Following his cue, she gave him slow and deliberate mouthfuls, pausing for a moment to flick her tongue on the parts that encouraged more moans and hums. It did not take long for Cullen to tense under her touch. His hands tangled through her hair, grasping in desperation. When she felt his muscles tighten, she increased her own suction and then released, swirling the tip with her tongue, savoring the taste. Just as she was about to return for dessert, he flipped her onto the bed, whipping off her shift with almost magical precision.
"Not so fast." His eyes twinkled with a certain naughtiness that increased the throbbing within her center. Meanwhile, his fingers found her need and flicked, pressed, and pushed, finding the core of her desire within her slick folds.
She found herself lost in the silky sea again, riding wave after wave of pleasure as his fingers searched and discovered her, finding each and every place that threatened to crash her burgeoning surge onto the shore. She reached for him, to guide him into her. The moment he lingered at her eager entrance, the world went black and she found herself floating in the velvet sea of oblivion once again.
The soft chorus of crickets and the crack of the campfire snapped her back into the world. For a terrifying moment, she imagined finding herself spread eagle and stark naked in the company of two Dalish elves. She braced herself, but realized she was still in her filthy leathers, leaves stuck in the tangles of her hair. And then she felt cheated.
"Ah. I see you've returned. How was your visit? Relaxing?"
Andi's mouth was pasty and the putrid taste of the elixir still lingered. Would it be rude to ask for more? Shakily, she managed to sit up and accepted a horn cup from Elora. Without thinking, she stuck her nose inside, hoping her prayers had been answered.
"Only an herbal tea. Most wish to wash out the taste in their mouths. They often wake up, demanding more. So, in case you are thinking the same, another taste would prove to be quite deadly. And you would not end up where you came from."
Andi furrowed her brow in disappointment, wondering how he knew this for certain. "How long did I black out?"
"Only for a moment. Perhaps you are starting to see the danger and the power of the elixir? Are you ready for the next stage of the ritual?"
Her mind said, MAKER'S ASS YES! But, she nodded politely, offering Sarel an inquisitive look, hoping to mask her zeal.
With a smile, Sarel nodded at Elora as she handed him a small bone pipe.
"You must inhale the Tobacco of Fantasies."
She needed no further explanation and nodded. Just as she held the smoldering pipe to her lips, Sarel held out a halting hand. "First, understand that you cannot go back to the place from where you have just returned. For the tobacco to work, you must imagine yourself in the company of people who bring you solace."
Not again, she thought. This time, she would carefully plan the scenario, instead of making a rash decision—although, she had to admit, the results had been rather pleasing, despite the unsatisfying ending. After searching her memory for the right company to fall into, she offered Sarel a crooked grin and inhaled deeply.
The wind that blew through the ruins at Ostagar carried light, fluffy snowflakes and dusted the soft silver fur of her coat. She stood at the entrance of a large tent and pulled back the flap to find the inside the warm and inviting, dimly bathed in lantern light. Duncan turned from some paper work he had been attending to, his expression immediately brightening upon seeing her. A silent, sexy tension filled the tent as Andi slunk over to the make-shift desk where he was sitting. His eyes were dark and slightly dangerous; his riveted stare remained unbroken as she approached. In predatory deliberateness, he rose to greet her, taking her roughly in his arms to initiate a wild and savage kiss. As the embrace intensified, he hesitated, not because he was unsure, but rather he seemed to take pleasure in the uncertainty and tension it wrought. She broke his spell and deepened the embrace, sending forth her tongue to entwine with his, the rough hairs of his beard scratching the tender parts around her mouth. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling it from its neat ponytail. He leaned back, shook his mane free, and smiled, cupping her cheeks with his large hands, and planted one last tender kiss on her lips.
"Do you think Warden Alistair is ready for the rest of his Joining ritual?"
She bit her bottom lip, following his veiled meaning and nodded.
Once Duncan had disappeared into the chill of Ostagar, Andi climbed onto a large pelt-covered cot, writhing for a moment, delighting in the sensation of fur on her bare skin. If the tent were not so drafty, she'd throw the coat off, but instead she stretched, kicked off her boots, and buried her toes into the sable blanket. Alistair must not have been far, as Duncan returned within minutes, ushering the perplexed young recruit into the tent ahead of him. Andi perched up on her elbows, her coat opening a crack, revealing a sliver of bare skin.
"I've explained the next part of the ritual to Alistair." Duncan sat at the edge of the bed, a cold hand reaching beneath the folds of the coat to cup her breast. "Is there anything you might like to add, Warden Andraste?"
Alistair, clearly nervous, ran a hand through his hair. Andi made room on the bed and patted the empty space beside her. "Only that this will make up for everything we've already endured."
She pushed the coat off her shoulders and reached for Alistair. He hesitated, but she paid no heed and guided his hand to her breast. She could sense his tension in his touch, but after guiding him to flick her erect nipple, he quickly relaxed into the task and nestled behind her. Soon, two sets of hands explored her every contour, Duncan's were rough and scarred, his touch both tender and self-assured as they worked their way to her damp center. In contrast, Alistair's smooth fingers glided across her belly and over each breast, his touch hinting of innocence and ravenous want. Through the tangle of arms, the caresses and touches, she made quick work of Duncan's tunic and breeches, then turned and offered the same to Alistair. There was so much texture to explore—from smooth taut muscles to thick musky-scented chest hair—and Andi took delight in it all.
Three bodies writhed together, finding a rhythm of thrusts and nuzzles, Andi ensuring that both men received equal amounts of her attention, a careful portioning of kisses and caresses. When hands no longer met their intensifying need, Duncan's tongue found purpose between her legs. For a moment, she closed her eyes and rode the building wave, but instead of surrendering, she interrupted her own climax to maneuver Alistair into her mouth. The tent was filled with glorious moaning and purring, the song of the Wardens discovering each other's pleasures. When Andi withdrew, offering a playful nip to Alistair's cock, she guided him off the bed. With a curious, yet nearly heartbroken expression he complied, until he understood her intent.
"Alistair, begin the Joining," she whispered, propping herself on all fours in a proud display of everything she had on offer for the young Warden. And without a moment to lose, she grabbed Duncan's firm buttocks with both hands and took the full length of the Senior Warden into her mouth. As her lips clamped around his impressive girth, Alistair plunged himself into her liquid heat, drawing in with such gradualness that it nearly brought her over the edge. Alistair set the pace, and she mimicked each thrust with her mouth and tongue on Duncan. Eventually, she dissolved into his rhythm, falling into a chasm of pleasure until Alistair's pace increased to an almost dizzying speed. She stole a glance at Duncan, pleased to see his clenched-shut eyes and a blush blooming through his stern expression. Both pointed to the imminence of his release. She released her grip, finishing with a sloppy lick and focused on Alistair, his grunts and groans signaling that he, too, was on the verge. With an extended sigh, he released, straining inside her, and then collapsed onto the fur-covered bed in a sweaty, panting heap.
Andi wasted no time and pushed Duncan onto his back and proceeded to mount him, quickly finding a cadence with her grinding. With steely eyes, Duncan fixed her in his gaze, and with gentle fingers, grazed her skin. The heat within her core simmered, then an intense thrumming bubbled to the surface, escaping as husky sighs. He found just the right angle, offered just the right touch that held the promise of her release. His thrusts launched her onto another rising wave, with the promise that her climax would cascade just over the next euphoric crest. She was right there.
But instead of riding down its ecstatic slopes, she found herself back at the campsite, Elora and Sarel at her side. She scrambled up, embarrassed that she might have been twitching or moaning in her unconscious state. If she had, neither elf seemed to care.
Andi cleared her throat and coughed, her throat felt dry and raw. Before she could form a wish, Elora handed her the horn cup again. The cool, crisp liquid offered almost instant relief.
Sarel cocked his head and offered a questioning look. "Well?"
"I'm not sure how to respond to that…" she mumbled, not wishing to share her private fantasies while also quite frustrated at how abrupt the experience had ended, yet again.
"A common reaction," he nodded. "And now, for the final stage in the ritual." He handed her a leaf, which held a strange, opaque glob of gelatinous material.
She accepted his offering without question, looking down at the pearlescent substance, hoping for further instruction.
"You must cover your face with the balm."
She quirked an eyebrow, "Just the balm? No fancy name? Any other words of wisdom?"
"None. The experience is yours. Enjoy." Sarel and Elora rose from where they had been sitting and left without further discussion.
The glob vaguely smelled of mint and musk. She scooped it off the leaf and did as she was instructed, feeling slightly ridiculous at the act. Immediately, her face started to tingle and her lips went numb. It did not take long for the sensation to travel down the rest of her body. Before it arrived at her feet, she lay down, imagining her next scenario. The moment she shut her eyes, she had arrived in the dark and on a pile of hay, covered in nothing but a quilt. She pulled it around her and investigated, immediately recognizing the milling stone of the Redcliffe mill. Without a second to spare, knowing that she was on borrowed time, she unlatched the door, and uttered praise to the Maker when she found Ser Perth deep in conversation with Teagan and Murdock. All three men turned when her head popped out from behind the door.
"Ah, the Grey Warden and the Champion of Redcliffe wakes!" Teagan said.
Without a word, Andi nodded, and with a cock of her head, invited him inside. Teagan pointed to himself, mouthing me?
She nodded, then added, "Actually, I'd like to confer with Ser Perth and Murdock as well."
The door swung open with a creak and she bid all three perplexed men inside, then barred the mill door shut.
No further explanations were needed. She dropped the blanket without ceremony. Moonlight streamed from small dirty windows and danced on the edges of her nude figure. Her first thought was that it would be impossible, given the known time constraints, to ensure climaxes for all three men, so with a barking command, she instructed each man to strip. Murdock's plaid shirt sailed over his head and promptly fell into a pile of straw, soon followed with the clank of Perth's armor. A ball of rumpled velveteen and satin, belonging to Teagan, crowned the heap.
There was little time to inspect each man's perking member, although she did notice that Murdock was already ram-rod straight. She guided Perth to her left breast and Murdock to her right. The sensation of two different tongues and two unique methods of nip and suck, elicited immediate gasps. Teagan kneeled before her, a smile escaping from his lips. He explored her folds, his teeth offering gentle nibbles that transformed into a roaming tongue massage. With every part of her body experiencing the summit of pleasure, it was no wonder that she had become a tad weak in the knees. Her attentive companions guided her to the straw bed, continuing to touch, probe, and explore.
Ser Perth the Brave was the first to offer his noble member, which she gladly accepted with a feral moan. After that, it was a blur of utter sensation, of absolute pleasure, of intensifying lust. When she found herself cresting her insatiable wave, Murdock was slamming in and out with wild abandon. This time she cried out, almost baring against the spasms and shudders that rippled deep into her core. And, just when she thought it was over, another wave would arrive at her heels. Tears from the indescribable intensity spilled down her cheeks, her whole body quivering with profound satisfaction.
They collapsed into a pile of sweat and limbs, heaving and out of breath, all stretched out in post-coital contentment. Teagan wrapped his lean and muscular arms around her, while Murdock and Perth offered their own nuzzles and warm embraces. Contentedly, she nestled in, quickly succumbing to the lure of sleep.
The second after she fell asleep, someone nudged her awake. Shielding the glare with a hand, she noticed a shadowed figure looming overhead. When her eyes finally adjusted to the early morning sunshine, she saw Alistair standing over her, his arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow arched in amusement.
"Been looking all over this bloody camp for you. Thought you might have gotten the bright idea to high tail it out of here."
She could not help but think of the tobacco and the hallucination that featured both he and Duncan. Now was not the time to blush from embarrassment, she worried. "I couldn't sleep. Sarel offered me…" To be honest, she was not sure what she had been given. The rest of Thedas needed in on this little secret.
"A sleep potion?" Alistair replied wistfully. "If that is the case, then why is your face blue?"
Bioware owns all. Happy Holidays to all the Cheeky Monkeys! The dimension you writers add to Dragon Age is what makes it so addictive! Thanks to Suilven for being my beta on this one!