IMPORTANT: This contains spoilers to Dragon Age: Origins. The whole thing, even the short "Premise" bit, is a spoiler. If you don't want to be spoiled, then I suggest not reading it, though I hope you do read it eventually, because... well, hopefully it is awesome.
Premise: Okay, so after having to curb my desire to be kind of a bastard through the entire game due to Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana's constant interfering (they "do not approve" of everything fun hehe) I find out that if I do the merciful thing and let Loghain live (which, seriously, a pretty good case is presented for him in game, you have to admit) then Alistair will leave me. So, I have to kill Loghain, which I kind of liked, anyway. THEN it turns out that Alistair is all, "Oh we can't be together anyway, Elf. Grey Warden. Tainted blood. No heirs" (though suspiciously, he will marry a human Cousland...Alistair=secret elf hater?) and I had to convince the man to have an affair with me and just marry Anora for a child. Then, he is like, "Oh the poor queen..." And I thought...well gee, Alistair, it's not exactly going to be easy for me either.... And that is where this story comes in. How does it feel to be the mistress of the King? First he must sleep with Morrigan and then marry and bed Anora. He worries about humiliating her, but... what about the Grey Warden?
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age origins or Alistair. I used the suggested name for the female Elf Mage (because, honestly, I coudln't remember what I ended up naming my Elf. They referred to her as "warden" or "Grey Warden" so much in the game that that is what she is in my head).
Prelude: The Bed You Make
"...you coulda made a safer bet
but what you break is what you get
you wake up in the bed you make
I think you made a big mistake
you own me
there's nothing you can do
you own me
you own me
lucky you..."
- "Lucky You" by The National
This was the decision they had made. Him. Her. And a third.
Anora. Wife. Queen. And soon, perhaps, after tonight, a third title: Mother. The barer of his child. Alistair's child.
Neria Surana lay on her back, staring up at the stars, and tried to ignore the fierce burning ache in her throat and the bitter ball of nausea that had tied her stomach into knots for days. It was bad enough that she had shared him with Morrigan to save their lives, she had been fiercely jealous, true, but she had also been desperately afraid and willing to do anything. Alistair would never have let her kill the archdemon and give her life in the process and she couldn't imagine a world without him in it. Especially one in which Anora sat on the throne with no one to challenge her ruthless decisions.
Neria had been reacting on survival instinct that night and she had convinced Alistair to do the same. Her anxiety over losing him had overridden her jealousy. Well, that and the fact that, despite the woman's often caustic remarks, she loved Morrigan and thought of her as a close friend. These two things had kept her from wanting to burn them both alive with spell fire. Neria knew Morrigan well enough to know that, in her own way, she had made the offer, because she too, valued their friendship. Morrigan saw the world in very different terms than she, but Neria respected the woman's view points and opinions. Morrigan had seen a way to get what she wanted and a way to save her friend's life (possibly, the only friend the witch had ever had). It was as simple as that. No heartfelt confessions, no hidden desires for a night alone with the bastard prince... Neria did her best not to think of the child that Morrigan now carried as Alistair's, but as a creation of magic and ritual, a vessel for an ancient god.
She hoped and prayed that Morrigan knew what she was doing. Neria prayed to the Maker that in twenty years she wouldn't be facing down Alistair and Morrigan's child amongst a horde of darkspawn...if she lived that long...Neria sighed, but those were worries for another day...
The present, this night, was what weighed on her currently, and it was almost more than the tiny elf could bear. She had faced down bandits, darkspawn, demons, blood mages, and worse, but none of it had been harder than this. None of it had affected her as heavily as this night.
Alistair's wedding night.
It was hard to believe that only a month ago they had faced the Archdemon and triumphed. Everyone had survived. Neria had been presented to all of Ferelden as a hero and the driving force that ended the Blight and destroyed the Archdemon. Alistair had made good on the promise he had made her that day, before the Arls and citizens of Ferelden, giving the Mage's their freedom from the Templars. The Circle was theirs alone. He had made good on other promises, as well, seeing to it that the Dalish were given the respect they deserved for the aid they'd provided. He had begun making changes in the Alienage as well, and that night, after all the celebrating had died down, he had made good on his promise to love her.
Tears began to fall, making slow, wet tracks from the corners of her deep blue eyes, down her pale skin, and landing in the curve of her pointed ears. Neria clenched her teeth, not wanting to make a sound, les Leliana hear her and start worrying over her like a mother hen. She blinked rapidly, as she remembered how tenderly and fiercely Alistair had loved her that night, his deep brown eyes staring almost worshipfully into her own. Both of them had been almost giddy with relief and exhaustion. They had survived the fight with the Archdemon. Together. They'd come out on the other side and were grateful. They had laughed and explored each other's bodies in ways they hadn't been able to during those dark, hasty nights in camp, when worry that the others might hear and fear of the pressing battle had weighed on them.
Then, the very next day the wedding arrangements began and Neria had said a secret, heartfelt goodbye to Alistair, saying that she had made promises to the Circle to help them rebuild. That she had to escort Wynne back and help them sort things out in the tower. It was truth, mostly, but at the heart of it... she couldn't stand to be there when he said his vows to Anora. Couldn't stand the thought of the two of them pledging eternity to one another. The knowledge that they would share a bed, create a child. How was she to stand beside and watch it happen?
She couldn't. She wouldn't.
She was Neria Surana. Mage of the Circle. Gray Warden. She was...
...lying in the grass crying. Hopelessly in love with Alistair and heartbroken over it. She couldn't stay away from him, not forever, not even for long, hell, she was even on her way back to him now. He was more than just the man she loved; he was her companion, her partner. They had been through this hell together and come through it, because neither had given up on the other. She couldn't give up on him now. She would bare the pain of sharing him.
The only other option: a life without him, without his touch, was unbearable. Better she had died on top of Fort Drakon dealing the death blow to the Arch Demon, then to survive only to lose that which made life worth living.
Author's Notes:
1. I plan on making this a multi chapter story. I appreciate your taking the time to read it. It has been quite a long time since I have written any fan fiction… or written anything at all, really. Hopefully, the fact that I am rusty doesn't show too much. All comments, criticisms, or gifts of cheese welcome.
2. The story title (in case you are wondering) was inspired by the song:
Fistful of Love by Antony And The Johnsons
Lyrics:
I was lying in my bed last night staring
At a ceiling full of stars
When it suddenly hit me
I just have to let you know how I feel
We live together in a photograph of time
I look into your eyes
And the seas open up to me
I tell you I love you
And I always will
And I know you can't tell me
I know you can't tell me
So I'm left to pick up
The hints, the little symbols of your devotion
So I'm left to pick up
The hints, the little symbols of your devotion
And I feel your fists
And I know it's out of love
And I feel the whip
And I know it's out of love
And I feel your burning eyes burning holes
Straight through my heart
It's out of love
It's out of love
I accept and I collect upon my body
The memories of your devotion
I accept and I collect upon by body
The memories of your devotion
And I feel your fists
And I know it's out of love
And I feel the whip
And I know it's out of love
And I feel your burning eyes burning holes
Straight through my heart
It's out of love, ooh hoo
It's out of love
Give me a little bit serious love
Give me a little full love
Be full of love
Fists, fists, fists full of love..