Notes: Written for the Dragon Age Kink Meme, prompt: "f! hawke/Alistair non-con: This anon really wants to see drunkard Alistair go after Hawke, if only because she reminds him of the warden he loved and he'll feel better causing her pain. Bonus points if LI finds them and Alistair over powers them and forces them to watch."
Exactly Like Her
"And you still remind me of Morrigan." Alistair yelled the direction of Isabela's swaying backside as she sauntered away, flashing hints of flesh with every step she took until she disappeared into the crowd at the Hanged Man.
"And you—" Alistair stabbed his finger at Marian. "You remind me of someone too."
"I can't imagine how I remind you of anyone. I don't even know you."
"I'm Alistair, King of— of Fer-elden or, at least, I should have been. And you— I see your face here all the time. Seen you twenty, thirty, a whole lotta times. You're always talking with that dwarf, or that woman, or that guy, or that templar, or those— those people. All the same people. Always the same people. And you always look busy. You got a whole lotta business you do for others, don't you?"
"I do not see how my business would concern you."
"Well, it does, and let me tell you— let me tell you exactly who you remind me off." Alistair stood. The bench he had been sitting on toppled backward.
Marian had seen this drunkard before. In the past she had ignored him, but all those other times he sat in the corner, quietly mumbling to himself, just like the other drunks. Now that he stood she could see how large he was. Tall, with the arms and shoulders of a swordsman. Nothing about this situation boded well. Marian stepped back.
With two quick strides, the drunkard shrunk the gap between them to an uncomfortable closeness. "As I said, I'm Alistair, and you remind me of someone I knew far too well."
"Look, you and I don't know each other," Marian said.
Before she could step away, the man grabbed her upper arm, clutching her with an iron grip.
Alistair jerked her forward. "You remind me of the Warden Commander of Ferelden." He sneered. His face pressed disturbingly close to hers. He peered directly into her eyes. "You even look at other people the exact same way that she does. I bet you are a mage, too, just like Solona. Mage."
Suddenly, Marian knew who this man was talking about. Solona Amell, her cousin.
Marian had never met her cousin Solona, but she had heard about her. Anders had known her personally, as did Isabela and Knight Captain Cullen. And, of course, the rest of the world knew of her as the Hero of Ferelden who killed an Archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight.
Alistair chewed on his bottom lip as his eyes studied her. "I know that people call you Hawke," he said, "but I also know you're an Amell. I know it." His fingers gripped her arm like a vice, digging into her flesh hard enough that he would certainly leave a bruise.
"I have never met Messere Amell, the Hero of Ferelden," Marian said. "Although, I have heard that she serves as Ferelden's Warden Commander."
"You're exactly the same as her. You even sound like her, acting formal and distant like nothing I say matters."
Alistair's breath hit her face in a huff, reeking sharply of stale beer. Marian did all she could to not wrinkle her nose.
"Of course your words matter." She kept her voice steady and calm.
"Oh, of course they do. Of course! That's what everyone always says. Of course Alistair's words matter. Of course we'll listen to what he has to say. Well, let me tell you Serrah Hawke-Amell, your kin dishonored the greatest institution of warriors this world has ever known. Solona Amell dishonored them! And Solona dishonored me."
"I am sorry for the trouble you have incurred."
"Sorry? Sorry, you say. You say you are sorry without knowing what happened! Well, let me tell you what happened!" Alistair shook Marian by the arm like she was a doll and he an angry child.
She glanced over her shoulder, searching for Isabela.
"No, look here." Alistair grabbed Marian's chin. "Look me into the eye while I tell you what your cousin did. Warden Solana Amell inducted Ferelden's most foulest murdering traitor into the Grey Wardens, dishonoring millennia of tradition. And on the day that happened, no one listened to what I had to say. No one! So I left."
There was no doubt this man's anger ran deeper than a day of drinking, and Marian knew the Grey Wardens inducted far more troublemakers than upstanding knights. She wanted to leave. She wanted Isabela to find her and help calm this mess. She glanced over her shoulder once again.
Alistair shook Marian, nearly knocking her off balance. "Yeah. Look away. That's exactly what she did. She was a terrible woman. I think she wanted to hurt me."
"I'm very sorry," Marian said. "But I am not her. So, please, stop taking out your anger on me. I have no quarrel with you."
"Oh, but you remind me of her. You look exactly like her."
Marian stole another glance over her shoulder. Where was Isabela?
"No! Look at me!"
"I said I'm sorry. I— What can I do to help you?"
Before Marian understood what had happened, Alistair spun her around and pushed her up against a wall. All of his weight leaned into her. He kissed her, his drunken lips hot against her own, his fingers grabbing at her hair. She was pinned to the wall as his thigh ground into her groin. She tried struggling against him, but her body felt sluggish. Her strength leaked from her against her will.
Why in flames wasn't anyone else doing something to stop this?
Clumsy fingers dug through Marian's shirt, squeezing her left breast.
Finally Marian heard a shout from a trusted voice. "You! What do you think you are doing! Stop right now."
Alistair stumbled back as Kirkwall's Knight Captain hauled him off of her.
A button popped from Marian's shirt. She clutched the fabric closed, gripping it just below her neck. With the back of her other hand she wiped the drunkard's saliva from her mouth.
"What in Andraste's name is wrong with you?" Cullen said as he clutched Alistair's arm.
"Makers balls!" Isabela shouted. She ran to Marian's side and put her arm around her.
Anders stalked to Marian's other side. "What the Void?" He put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right? You look pale."
"I'm fine," Marian said. She brushed Anders' hand away.
He looked hurt.
"Anders, I'm fine." She forced herself to stand straight. She pulled back her slumping shoulders, straightened her spine, and brushed away the fog of weakness that encased her.
Cullen pulled Alistair back another step. "You realize the City Guard will have you jailed for drunk and disorderly conduct and I will not think twice about charging you with assault."
At first Alistair appeared stunned, but he shrugged his arm out of the Knight Captain's grip and turned to face him. He tapped his finger on the center of Cullen's armored chest plate. "It figures you would be here, you darkspawn dickstain robe chaser."
Marian watched as Cullen's eyes hardened. His jaw clenched as every muscle in his face became taut.
"Yeah, I knew it," Alistair pounded his finger into Cullen's chest plate again. "I bet you still pretend to be innocent while you woo a new Amell mage, but soon enough, you'll drop her like a hot potato, yelling, 'Ooh! She's a mage! Oh, no, a dangerous nasty horrible mage! She's going to turn my dick into a toad!'"
Cullen's hands shot up in supplication. "I have done nothing of the sort."
"Really?" Isabela asked. "All this time I thought you and Hawke had something going. You don't need to hide it from me."
"Marian!" Anders fumed. "What were you thinking? Tell me you didn't. How could you?"
"Oh, come off it Anders," Isabela said, "she had the patience to do you too."
"Actually, I haven't—" Marian tried to speak.
"Hon, you don't have to lie to me. There's nothing wrong in having fun with your templar friend while giving Anders something else to think about beyond the plight of mages."
"—I haven't done anything with either of them, Maker damnit!" Marian shouted.
Cullen huffed a weary sigh.
"Maybe we should leave?" Anders asked, inching closer to her.
"Only if you take me home too," Isabela purred in Marian's ear. "You need see this electricity thing Anders does."
"Blessed Andraste!" Cullen raked his fingers over his face. "Are we done here?"
Then the mood changed for the worst. Alistair spun on his heels with surprising agility and jabbed his finger at Marian. "You see! This is what I'm talking about. You are EXACTLY LIKE HER." He waved his arm madly in the direction of each of Marian's three friends. "Look at all of them! The templar. The same pirate. Oh, that pirate. Do any of you know what Solona Amell did to me? She left me alone, drinking by myself, while shedisappeared for three hours so she could fuck and suck this pirate. She left me waiting and waiting, wondering what was going on. Had she left without me? Had she forgotten me?"
"You were invited too," Isabela said.
"Maybe I wasn't interested. Anyhow, before all of that Solona cock-teased this robe chasing coward of a templar."
Cullen waved his hands in the air. "Look, that is not what happened."
"And for all I know, Solona probably did something with this— that—" Alistair flicked his fingers in Anders direction. "Who are you, anyway?"
"It doesn't matter," Anders said.
"For the record, Solona knew Anders too," Isabela said.
"Well, thank you for dragging me into this mess," Anders sniped.
"I only thought it fair," Isabela replied.
The words had hardly left Isabela's mouth when Alistair lunged at Anders, grabbing fistfuls of feathers from either side of his pauldrons as Alistair rushed him into the wall. "You're that Warden I've heard of. You're the one who abandoned Amaranthine. You're a traitor. A big traitor, just like Solona."
"Hey! Get your hands off me!"
"Oh, but now you are with Hawke, right? You are with Hawke."
"No, he is not," Marian shouted. "I'm not with anyone."
"Yeah, yeah, that's what all you Amells say." Alistair waved a dismissive hand in her direction. "Let me tell all of you — all of you — the bold faced truth. I slept with Warden Solona Amell. That's right. I slept with her. I slept with the woman who is now Ferelden's traitorous, horrible Warden Commander. I slept with her."
"This is old news, Alistair, let it rest," Isabela said.
"I slept with her night after night after night, all the way across Ferelden and back again. And, unlike you," Alistair turned toward Cullen, "I slept with her in a nice, warm, comfortable bed in the Circle tower, up in the Enchanters' quarters on the second floor. Only we didn't sleep. Oh, no. We did not sleep. We were—"
Isabela clamped her hand down on Alistair's shoulder. "Alistair, shush. We know."
The heavy silence of unspoken regret hung in the air, punctuated when Cullen blew out his breath in a heavy huff.
"Yeah, you never had the nerve to do it with her," Alistair said.
An embarrassed flush flooded Cullen's cheeks. He caught Marian's eye, flashing a quick, plaintive glance.
She looked away.
"Since everyone else is confessing…" Anders squared his shoulders. He held his chin high. "I slept with Solona. In Amaranthine. It was very—"
"Andraste's Ass." Cullen clawed at his forehead. "Look, would all of you stop wasting my time? If you don't end this immediately and disperse, I will command the City Guard to haul all of you in for drunk and disorderly conduct."
All four of them stared at the templar Knight Captain, waiting to see what he would do next.
"And Hawke," Cullen said, "You are coming with me."
"Do I detect a convenient abuse of authority?" Isabela asked.
Anders stalked toward Cullen, invading the man's space. "Listen, templar, if you lay one Maker be damned finger on her, I will personally see that—"
"Mage! Do not overstep your bounds." Cullen's face hardened. The room stilled as his cold threat hung in the air.
Marian's stared at Cullen and Anders, waiting for one of them to back down. Even Isabela had gone silent.
From the corner of her eye, Marian realized most of the Hanged Man's patrons had cleared out in anticipation of a fight.
She thought of saying something, anything to calm them down, but before words could form in her head, Alistair struck.
Marian took a blow to her chest. It hit her hard, knocking her off her feet and slamming her into the wall. All the air in her lungs emptied in a painful rush.
She watched Cullen and Anders fly off their feet, knocked back by an unseen force. Cullen landed first with a clatter and then with a meaty thud as the back of his head clipped on the edge of an oaken table. Anders turned into a oddly anthropomorphic kite, sailing a strong gust until grounded.
Isabela flew back in a rush, limbs outstretched, until she hit the wall with a thump and crumpled in a corner.
Marian felt weak and disoriented as Alistair stalked toward her. His nostrils flared. In that moment, she knew that Alistair, the drunkard, was a templar.
He lunged for her. Marian tried jerking her arm from his grasp but, with one open handed slap, Alistair drained her of all her mana. She felt as if all the life in her had been bled out.
All sound in the room faded as she sprawled flat on the floor. Alistair towered over her. In that moment Marian believed his next blow would aim for her face. She tried to move, willed herself to roll, but her body refused even the simplest commands. She looked up into the eyes of this drunken templar, praying for just one ounce of Maker blessed compassion that she did not expect to receive.
"It isn't fair." Alistair said as he slumped to his knees, straddling her, and crumpling forward onto her chest. "It just isn't fair. I gave her everything. I did. At least, I tried. I would have given away my kingdom for her. All of it. Just for her."
All of Marian's senses screamed for her to squirm out from under him, but Alistair's weight on top of her and the loss of her stamina left her completely immobile. Alistair's hand reached for her face and she couldn't even muster the strength to turn her head away. His calloused finger tips caressed her cheek as she flinched.
"I gave her everything. Don't you understand? Everything. And what did she give me in return?" His voice broke. "She threw all it away and ground my heart beneath her boot heel. Solona was a terrible, terrible woman. Terrible. But I loved her. Oh, I thought I loved her. And all that time I thought she loved me too."
Alistair's hot breath fogged her face. His eyes studied her. His thighs squeezed the sides of her hips, caging her like iron posts. With his weight bearing down on her, hands pinning her shoulders to the floor, there was nowhere she could go.
In a fruitless attempt to escape, Marian closed her eyes while lying flat on the filthy floor.
The drunkard leaned in to her. His lips moved against hers, his tongue pressed into her unyielding mouth. Her forced his way in. So she bit him and tasted the foulness of his blood. The instant he pulled away she spat.
"Hey, that wasn't nice," Alistair said.
"Not that you are acting as a gentleman."
"Ah, listen to yourself. You're just like her."
Alistair's upper lip curled. Nervous, Marian said nothing.
"You're exactly like her. Same hair. Same eyes. Same voice. Same exaggerated sway in your hips. You even have the same men, women, all of them fawning over you. Everything is exactly the same."
His voice had grown as taut as the string of a bow.
"You wanna know something? I came here to get away from her. But you just had to ruin it for me"
His fist slammed into the floor, inches from her ear.
"It isn't fair." The heat from his groin pressed uncomfortably close to her own. "It just isn't fair. I wanted her then, even when she turned into a terrible person. I still want her, I still do, and that makes me a very, very bad man."
A sob caught in Alistair's throat. He pressed his face into hers, kissing her sloppily. As he rubbed himself against her, every fiber in her body tightened. She squirmed beneath his weight, trying to escape his lips and his roaming hands.
He moaned into her ear. "It isn't fair. Now you have all of them. Why won't you have me too?"
Just as suddenly as it began, it ended in a rush.
Cullen pried Alistair from her body, jerking Alistair backwards by his arms. "Stop it! Now! Leave Hawke alone. She isn't Solona and you know that. Hawke is a fine woman. You have no issue with her, so let her be."
"But it isn't fair," Alistair whined as he fell back.
"No, it isn't. Nothing in life is fair." Cullen forced Alistair to stand. He gripped his shoulders, steering him in the opposite direction from where Marian lay. "Come on. We're going for a walk."
The Knight Captain's bearing spoke of authority, a man who had taken others into custody many times before. Marian watched Alistair stumble as Cullen led him away, the two men treading across the tavern and out through the door.
Marian breathed a sigh of relief.
Isabela crawled over to Marian. She dropped a weary arm around her shoulder and put her head to Marian's chest. She didn't bother to nuzzle as she pressed against her. "Hon, are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Did he hurt you?"
"I said I'm fine."
Anders knelt beside her. "Are you certain?"
"I'm certain that I'm fine. I'm just… startled. That's all."
"Let me walk you home," Anders hand settled light as a butterfly's touch on the back of her wrist.
Isabela raised her head. "Given what happened, I don't think Hawke wants to be outside right now. Don't you think it better not to invite a repeat of that scene? Hawke can stay with me for now. And you, too, Anders, if you wish."
"I just want to stay right where I am for a little bit," Marian said.
"That's okay, hon, I understand."
"So do I," Anders replied.
"Good," Marian said. "Good."
The main room of the tavern was empty save the three of them huddled together on the floor. Beyond the quiet sounds of their breath, the crackling logs in the fireplace made the only other sound in the room.