Dragon Age is still the tantalizing property of BioWare.
One Night in Redcliffe
She turned from her contemplation of the fire as the Grey Warden entered his room. "Do not be alarmed. It is only I."
The Warden raised an eyebrow.
"Morrigan? Is everything all right?"
"I am well. 'Tis you who are in danger. I know what happens when the Archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed." His jaw tightened, and he nodded soberly. "I offer you a way out," she added smoothly. "A way out for all the Grey Wardens."
He listened with interest as she laid out her plan, the sex magic that would enable her to capture the Old God's essence at the crucial moment, and after a few pertinent questions readily agreed.
"Come to me, then," Morrigan purred. "We shall make this last night something to remember."
Her success was unsurprising, as she knew that, unlike that self-righteous crone Wynne, her fellow mage had a practical grasp of necessity resembling her own. She had also been well aware of his heated interest since their first meeting. What was wholly – and delightfully – unexpected was the man's sheer power and endurance. They had matched each other's increasingly loud and unbridled enthusiasm for going on three hours when with a final bellow he climaxed and slumped in exhaustion over Morrigan.
The witch licked salt from her lip and surveyed the battlefield of the room as she caught her breath. She winced slightly and with one hand tenderly explored the top of her head where it had repeatedly cracked against the headboard, idly running her other hand down her partner's spine in deep contentment.
"Well, now. I can assure you our efforts have proven fruitful. You and your fellow Grey Wardens may slay the Archdemon with nothing to fear." She smiled. "Relatively speaking, to be sure."
Her hand stilled.
"Warden?" Shifting under his weight, she craned her neck in an attempt to see his face. "Warden?"
With a slight effort, Morrigan heaved the unresponsive man off and onto his back. Hiking up to her elbow, she leaned over and examined his face.
"Avernus?"
After a moment, she dropped back onto her pillow.
"Shit."
.
.
.
.
Several of the others looked on as servants gingerly removed the ancient mage's body, studiously avoiding Morrigan's glare. Alistair had immediately succumbed to sensory overload, mumbling incoherently, "Him?...With her?...with...him?" over and over, and was led away by Leliana with promises of hot milk and cookies. Sten casually drifted after them.
"Ohimè, è un peccato," murmured Zevran. "Although I must say that is the happiest looking corpse it has ever been my privilege to lay eyes upon."
"He was what, a century in age?" queried Riordan.
"At least," agreed Aedan. "Grey Warden stamina," he added with a good deal of vicarious self-satisfaction. The Orlesian Warden nodded.
"Still, he had to have been hearing his Calling long since."
"He and everyone else on this floor," Aedan said dryly, shooting a glance at Morrigan, who pointedly shut the door in his face. "Looks like the show's over."
The men trailed down the corridor, their conversation drifting back.
"Heh, can't blame him for waving wands with the witch, after Sophia fell apart on him."
"Yes, Oghren, thank you."
"In the finest Warden tradition, he went off into her Deep Road..."
"Thank you, Oghren."
"I suspect he overcame his limitations."
"Maker's breath, Zevran, don't encourage him."
"Just ended up in the Dead Trenches, though..."
"Oghren!"