The idea for this story came from a one shot story from PheonRen. The story was featured on the Ridiculously Awesome Authors Forum. It was an incredibly smokin' hot smut story that had some real potential for a deeper story to be told. The posters on the thread were begging for the story to be continued, so the forum moderator contacted PheonRen about whether or not she was going to continue. She informed us that she had no intention of making it a longer story. She gave me permission to use her first chapter and delve deeper into this unique idea. In order to accommodate the plotline I did have to change and add a few things to her original story, however the extreme smutty parts are all still there and I even added an additional one. I do recommend you read the original, it's awesome.

Most people that read my stories know that I don't use a lot of swear words or brash language when describing a sex scene – not that there is anything wrong that. In PheonRen's story she used explicit words to express what was taking place. I didn't change that language because I feel it fits within the confines of the story as it is now, but as the story and characters progress there will be a change in the language.

There is definitely adult content in this chapter. Enjoy all of you cheeky monkeys!

Chapter 1

"Feeling down n' dirty, feeling kinda mean, I've been from one to another extreme
This time I had a good time, ain't got time to wait, I wanna stick around till I can't see straight
Fill my eyes with that double vision, no disguise for that double vision
Ooh, when it gets through to me, it's always new to me, my double vision gets the best of me"

Double Vision by Foreigner

Sabrina Cousland paced her room at the Palace like a caged animal. It had been two months since Loghain had died after slaying the Archdemon, bringing an end to the Blight. That decision had been the right one, even if Alistair was too pigheaded to see it. When she conscripted Loghain she knew he would be angry at her, but she never imagined he would betray her, betray the Wardens and agree to marry Anora. He had walked away from everything he claimed to have ever loved into the arms of everything he'd said he never wanted, just because of one man! Just because he couldn't allow himself to see beyond the need for revenge and see the bigger picture. He left her, after he had promised to never leave her. He left her to fight the damn Archdemon by herself. Damn him! No, fuck him!

As Warden Commander she had expected to take up her command at Vigil's Keep and start rebuilding the Grey Wardens. It was her task now since Alistair had walked away and set himself up as King. Two months later Anora had still not allowed her to leave Denerim. It had taken her a month to recover from the injuries she had sustained during the final battle, then Anora reasoned that the Hero of Ferelden needed to be present for the post Blight celebrations. Then it was that the Wardens needed show their support for the Crown by attending Alistair's Coronation and the royal wedding. That was two weeks ago and Anora had yet to release her to go and perform her duties. Sabrina was beginning to suspect that Anora was keeping her here to purposely rub it in her face that she had won – her father had died a hero, she remained on the throne, married to the man Sabrina still loved despite everything - a man that willingly chose Anora over her, and that is what hurt the most.

Anora had insisted Sabrina stay at the Palace and since her run in with Alistair two weeks ago she had managed to avoid him ever since.

She had been slipping down a corridor to head to her room when she felt a large hand pull her into one of the empty guest rooms. The door slammed shut as she spun around to face her abductor. Alistair stood there with the same hateful expression on his face that he'd had since the Landsmeet.

"Alistair, what the hell?"

"I need to know why it has to be a Grey Warden to kill an Archdemon," Alistair demanded.

She glared at him as a cold smirk crossed her face, "Sorry, that is a Grey Warden secret."

"I am a Grey Warden!" He shouted.

Sabrina laughed, "No you're not. You walked away from the Grey Wardens. That means you are no longer privy to my order's secrets."

"As King I have the right to know," Alistair demanded.

"As King you have the right to know information as it affects you or your kingdom. That does not apply to the secrets of our order," Sabrina retorted.

Alistair grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall. "Bree, I order you to tell me." He stared at her as an animalistic hunger flickered across his eyes. Alistair had never been a rough sex type of guy. He was a passionate lover, but sweet and tender. This angry, forceful Alistair was new and she was surprised when she felt a twinge between her legs and heard her breath hitch.

"I'm a Grey Warden, Alistair. I don't answer to you," she sneered. She watched as Alistair's hard gaze slid down her face to her neck, then to her breasts as they rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath.

Sabrina looked at his handsome face that was now marred with disgust. He may loathe her, but his lustful stare betrayed his other desires. He pressed against her and forced himself between her legs. She could feel his arousal as he pushed against her groin and the twinge from before now coursed through her body as a violent tremor.

"If you want to be stubborn about it then I will find a way to make you talk," he hissed as he roughly kissed her lips. His hands forcefully pulled at her dress ripping it down the seams and exposing her breasts. His mouth immediately found her nipples and he roughly sucked on them to the point that both pleasure and pain surged through her. She moaned as her fingers intertwined through his hair.

Alistair's fingers nimbly undid the laces of his trousers, he hiked her dress up, tore off her small clothes and then plunged deep inside her. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist as she drew him in. He groaned as he slammed into her and drove her with force against the wall pushing the air out of her lungs. She raked her nails across his back causing him to cry out in pain as he drove into her deeper and harder. He was violent, brutal and at times almost sadistic, but she had never been more turned on in her life.

He wanted her as badly as she wanted him, but the sex was crude, unapologetic and animalistic. The only emotions that were present from either one of them were anger, bitterness and crazed lust. He was fucking her, but she was no holds barred fucking him right back. She felt her body tense as the frenzied explosion set waves of sheer ecstasy surging through her and she cried out with pleasure. Alistair continued to slam into her until she felt him go rigid as he let out an uninhibited cry of satisfaction. His body fell against hers as he shook violently as the aftershocks rocked his body.

Her legs fell away from his waist and he immediately withdrew from her. She stood before him clothes torn and ripped, her hair completely disheveled, with bite marks and scratches exposed on her raw skin. Alistair couldn't even look at her as he quickly pulled up his trousers and fixed his tunic. He headed for the door and with his hand on the knob he turned to look at her. She had never seen such anguish and hopelessness before in someone's eyes. Then without a word he opened the door and left her there, to clean up the tattered pieces of her life.

So for two weeks she had been sitting on her arse in her room or slinking around the castle trying to avoid both Alistair and Anora. She hated every minute alone at the Palace. She wanted to leave Denerim, leave this cold, unfriendly, dark place. She wanted to be free of Alistair and Anora. She was the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, she shouldn't be creeping around corridors trying to avoid the Bastard King and his Bitch Queen. She wanted to be under the sky and looking up at the stars—or the clouds. She wanted to be killing darkspawn – preferably as she imagined Alistair's face in place of it's own.

She wasn't some damn puppet of the Queen's – maybe Alistair was, but she sure as hell wasn't. She was a Grey Warden, she didn't answer to the throne. Turning, she packed quickly, put on her armor and left the room, backpacks in tow.

"Where are you going, My Lady?" asked the guard at the end of the hallway.

"I'm off to begin the job of recruiting Wardens," she told him.

"I'm not to let you leave, My Lady. I'm real sorry, but I have no choice," the guard replied.

"Do you think you're going to stop me?" Sabrina inquired.

"If I have to, my -"

Before the guard could even react Sabrina's blade was against the man's throat. "So you think you can stop the woman that led the fight against the Blight for a year and half?"

The guard smiled sheepishly, "You might have a point."

Sabrina pretended to start to sheath her sword and the guard began to relax. Sabrina spun quickly behind the guard and brought the pommel of her sword down against the side of the man's head. She then dragged the unconscious guard into a dark alcove, "Sorry about that, but I couldn't have you alerting the King and Queen about my departure until I am far from here."

Then she crept from the castle, melding with the shadows until she could slip undetected into the night.

The Arling of Amaranthine was hers. It belonged to the Grey Wardens, and she was going to claim it for them. She wasn't going to lie down and take it, even when a Queen tried to usurp the power of the Wardens.

She had just slipped out the city side gate and into the forest when a hand covered her mouth from behind, and a powerful arm curled around her waist. "Don't scream," a familiar, warm voice said in her ear.

"Alistair, what are you doing here?" she hissed when he let his hand slide away from her mouth.

"I followed you," he said. "I couldn't stay away a minute longer. I wondered when you were going to wake up and get out of there. I was starting to think I was going to have to kidnap you."

His hand slid down the front of her body, and she gasped as it claimed one of her breasts. She turned her head as she wriggled and tried to escape him.

"Why are you fighting me? You know you want this," he told her, his voice husky and hot in her ear.

"You betrayed me!" she snapped.

His hand dipped boldly down into her pants. "I never betrayed you, Sabrina. Never. But your body betrays you even now." His fingers slid into her slit, which was already slick and wet.

"It doesn't matter. Just because I want you, doesn't mean I want you!" She exclaimed.

"But you do want me," he told her. His fingers delved deeper into her, flicking across her swollen nub, making her squirm and shiver and arch against them. She gasped as he licked her neck, then bit her—not hard, but with the same sort of dominant aggressiveness she had seen in him a few weeks before.

Liquid gushed from her onto his probing fingers, and he chuckled against her neck. "You like that." It wasn't even a question.

He rolled her onto her back and pulled her tunic abruptly over her head—leaving her bereft of his exploring fingers. In the gloom, she could see him looming over her, and wondered vaguely when he'd grown his goatee into a full one, rather than the usual light scruff he left on his chin.

But the thought flew away as she was divested of her pants in one rough, firm movement. He looked at her with a predatory hunger that scared her, even while it thrilled her. Yes, she definitely liked the new angry Alistair.

He didn't wait. The foreplay was over, and somehow, the act was that much more exciting for the lack of it. It wasn't like she needed it, anyway… she was more ready for this man than she'd ever been for anything in her life. He positioned himself quickly, and shoved into her, leaning forward to look into her face with a hooded, impenetrable expression. He thrust into her again and again, long and slow strokes that made her squirm and wrap around him.

Try as she might, she couldn't get him to go faster. In the simple act of fucking her, he was showing her that she wasn't the boss anymore. He would go at his own pace, take his own pleasure, and her expectations be damned.

It was the sexiest thing she'd ever experienced.

He leaned on one arm, his hips thrusting his cock into her with rhythmic perfection, while his other hand grasped and kneaded a breast. It was a rough touch, lustful and erotic, but it lacked the rage that had consumed him the last time. She would never have thought he could be so… unflinchingly male.

When she quit trying to pull him deeper and began to move to his rhythm, submitting to his control over her, he began to speed up, his hips slapping lewdly against hers in the gloom.

He stopped then, and she groaned in unmet need. He laughed at her—laughed at her!—and then pushed her legs up until he could look down at the place their bodies met. He held her thighs up as he shoved into her again and again.

It was vaguely humiliating, lying there opened up that way while he stared at her and yet it was thrilling, too.

More than that, though, with every rough stroke, he was rubbing against the most sensitive spot in her body. She gasped and squirmed, rapidly approaching the edge of raw pleasure. When she came, it was a powerful, overwhelming, uncontrolled surge. It buried her in its intensity, and he growled at her as she milked him, sending him into his own orgasm. He came in her without hesitation, jerking her against him almost cruelly. It made her orgasm again.

Something had come over him, something had changed him, this was more than just a grudge fuck; whatever it was, it was hotter than an abomination's explosion.

He thrust into her one more time, roughly, firmly, as he declared, "Mine!"

Then he collapsed on top of her, rolling off to pull her against him.

"What are you really doing here?" she asked against his shoulder.

"Don't talk, Sabrina. Just go to sleep. Plenty of time for talk tomorrow," he told her, his voice low in the darkness, his goatee prickling against her forehead.

At her gasp of outrage at being told what to do, he said sleekly, "Don't make me fuck you into silence. I can do it, you know."

And he expected her to go to sleep after that? What the hell was going on? Even when he was angry at her he had never talked to her like that, and he called her Sabrina. He hadn't called her Sabrina since Ostagar.

It was a long, restless night for her, too keenly aware of the man next to her. A new Alistair that she almost didn't even know, but an Alistair she wanted to keep - very much so. But the question nagged her, and so as they broke camp to travel on the next day, she asked him again.

He stopped packing and looked at her. "And where should a Grey Warden be?" he asked, leveling a look at her that seemed to indicate that it was a stupid question. She felt childish and silly suddenly. She never felt like that around him. It wasn't fair. She scowled at him.

"Who am I?" he asked her. When she just blinked stupidly, he asked again, "Who am I, Sabrina?"

"Alistair," she said, something tripping up inside her as she said it.

"And just who is Alistair?"

"What?"

"Who is Alistair? Is he a camp follower? Is that his position in this world?" he drew her against him as he said it, looking down at her and demanding an answer with a tense, almost cold look.

A shiver ran down her spine. "You're the King," she said.

"And do you think the King answers to you?"

She gasped and frowned again. "No, I suppose not," she said as the moment drew out and he didn't release her. "But you're a Grey Warden, and I'm the Commander of the Grey Wardens, so you answer to me because of that," she said. She had him there!

"I'd like to see you try to make me answer to you," he said, shocking her to her core.

He released her then, and finished packing. They walked away from the camp with Sabrina in turmoil. He was behaving oddly. But somehow, it seemed almost as if he was finally the man she thought he could be.

He stopped abruptly, right in the middle of the trail. "If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to fuck you right here and right now."

She blinked stupidly at him and swallowed hard. He wouldn't dare! Would he? She looked down, disappointed that she couldn't see whether or not he was hard behind the codpiece of his plate armor. And when had he started wearing Dragon Blood armor, anyway?

She blinked again as he started pulling armor off. "Okay, point taken!" she told him. "Sheesh, why so bossy all of a sudden?"

"Take my greaves off," he told her, his voice silk and gravel.

"You can't be serious! Someone could come up on us any second!"

"You'd better hurry it up, then, hadn't you," he said, and she wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. She crossed her arms and scowled.

"Suit yourself," he told her, and pulled them off himself. Now clad only in the tunic and breeches he wore beneath the armor, he grabbed her and turned her around, shoving her against a tree.

"Hey!" she protested, then she tried to pull away as her hardened leather scale breeches were yanked down around her knees.

Then, without warning, he was sliding inside her, plundering her like a pirate. "Oh Maker," she groaned as he stoked the fire already burning in her pussy.

He slapped against her, his hands hard and strong on her hips. The only sound on the trail was the sound of their furious coupling, his body slamming into hers over and over again, her involuntary cries and groans… his grunts as he seemed to try to ride her into the tree itself.

Then he leaned forward over her, thrust into her roughly and growled as he came. The thought of him pumping into her sent her instantly over the edge, and she howled like an animal as her orgasm washed over her.

He slipped out of her, pulling her upright against his chest. "For someone who didn't want to get caught, you sure as hell made a lot of noise," he said. He was being smug again, to her chagrin.

"Something isn't right," she said. "This isn't like you. I've never seen you act like this."

"On the contrary, my dear," he said.

They were redressed, and as he came up to her, she realized that he looked intimidating and even almost frightening in this armor.

"This is exactly like me. And I've always been exactly like this," he told her as he crowded her back against the tree. "And you may not realize it just yet, but I'm exactly what you've always wanted. I can do everything you thought you wanted, and more. I'm your perfect match."

He crushed her lips beneath his, taking, devouring, consuming… yet bringing up confusing and warm feelings inside of her that hadn't been there before. She thought she had loved him—and she still did—but now that love was imbued with a growing passion the likes of which she'd never known.

"Darkspawn!" He warned as he whipped out a powerful axe, and laid into them.

An axe? A two handed axe? What the Darkspawn—

She lost track of the thought as she ducked a wild swing from a Hurlock. Then it was gone as Alistair slashed its head clean off, laughing maniacally. The powerful axe whirled and danced in the air, and even as she slid her dagger into the back of a genlock, she couldn't take her eyes off of him.

When the fight was over, and they stood in the midst of carnage, she turned on him. "That was a Reaver move!" she accused.

"Yeah," he said. "What of it?" He stood inches from her, covered in gore and blood and grinning like an Archdemon.

She shivered. "You're not a Reaver," she said warily.

"Yes," he said, his voice husky and deep again. "I am."

"You're not Alistair," she said, backing away.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to catch on," he said with a grin - a malevolent grin – damn sexy grin.

"You're a demon!"

He laughed. "I've been called worse. But no, I'm not. You'd feel it if I was."

"A maleficar," she said, uncertain.

"No," he said, closer now, as she stood with her back against a tree.

"Then what?" she said, fear rising inside her.

"What do you think?" he asked her, toying with her, playing some game she couldn't quite understand.

"A brother?" she breathed. "Another unknown bastard?"

"I'm his twin," he told her. "Identical twin, in case you hadn't noticed."

Suddenly, it struck her as funny. "Really?"

"Yes, really," he rumbled at her, his hand—covered in blood and gore—pawing at her breast through her gory leather shirt.

"Can I call you Malistair?" she asked, smirking at him.

"Not if you want to live," he growled, and she laughed again.

"Don't laugh at me again," he warned her. "I hate being related to such a milk-sop. Much less being his brother. But I'm going to do something about it. We're… going to do something about it."

Now she was intrigued. "Oh?"

"We're going to replace him. And then, when the time is right, we're going to dispose of Anora."

She stared blankly at him.

"After that, my dear Commander, with you at my side, I am going to rule. First Ferelden…and then the world."

She looked at him like he was crazy. The man had to be certifiably insane. But then he was stripping her and shoving into her, and despite the blood and death all around them, she was simply too fucking horny to care. She wondered, for all of ten seconds, just exactly what she had gotten herself into.

*Special thanks to RandomWittering for all of her wonderful beta magic.