K.A. Bren
Meravas
Synopsis: Throughout the time they are teamed up Warden Aithne Cousland gradually earned Sten's admiration and respect, but hand in hand with his irritation over the constant 'delay' of their mission to slay the Archdemon.
The final straw was their journey to Haven, on the quest for a pinch of the Sacred Ashes. Sten finally makes a very stern stand against the Warden. In an ironic twist, what is believed to cause a stark division between them is what brings them closer together.
DISCLAIMER: I am perfectly aware of the fact that Sten is not romanceable. Yes, he is a very devout Qunari- but one cannot always control their actions no matter how well they follow their philosophy from the start. Acting on impulse is common among anyone of any race or religion, so I do not hesitate to think that Sten too will likely let heart go before head sometimes.
Overall... treat this as mere fan fiction. The story in many ways will disagree with the laws of the DA universe. Treat it as a 'What if' or a AU for sheer entertainment.
That said, hope you enjoy the story!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air around us... Fereldan in general is very cold compared to my homeland. But here... it is beginning to gnaw on my skin. The Sten noticed, pulling the hood of his deep crimson cloak over his head and giving a sharp violet glare at Warden Aithne Cousland several bodies ahead of him. We have a few small mountains, but these are so frigid and barren, with little sign of life in the trees and water.
To him ending the The Blight was worth all possible sacrifices and burdens, including the homesickness that burrowed deep into the center of his aching soul. But clouded by his yearn to slay the Archdemon he did not see how the quest to Haven for the Sacred Ashes of Andraste was going to get them closer to that goal. In his eyes the group was getting sidetracked, thrown way off course because they could not ignore their pity for an ailed man! The world is not one sick noble.
"Interesting strategy!" He shot at Aithne. "Tell me, do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south and attack the Archdemon from the rear?"
"Do I detect a hint of spite in that question, Sten?" Aithne asked wearily, still walking with her back turned to him.
"This is asinine- we dedicated ourselves to the end of the Blight by slaying him, yet we are constantly delayed by menial tasks, losing focus and the precious little time we have to save this world... and now we seek the charred remnants of a dead woman!"
"Really? I don't seem to recall you having a problem with us sparing time to find Asala!" She bellowed over her shoulder. "Maker help me... I'm growing tired of this... venak hol!"
Sten was was struck by a mix of flattery and offense- she threw an insult in his language at him! Lost for words, not sure of his precise feeling about it, he simply scowled at her for the Asala remark.
"Ooh." Warden Selba said to Alistair with folded hands over her mouth. "I don't know what that meant but I doubt it was nice."
Aithne finally turned around and continued. "This is part of the process of gaining all the able warriors that we can to bring a successful end to the Archdemon. One does not simply walk into his lair with only seven other warriors at side."
"I understand that- it is why I have turned the other cheek so many times before... but this...vashedan... there is not enough cheek for it! While I am eternally grateful for all that you've done for me... while I believe you to be an honorable warrior and friend... I am not going to stand for this foolishness!"
"So you're going to quit the team and fight the Archdemon by yourself- yeah, that's a brilliant plan!"
"NO. I am taking command!"
"You'll just lead us to our death because you're all too eager to rush into a fight we can't win alone! I don't think so, Big Guy."
Alistair stepped forward to intervene. "Um... we really shouldn't be doing th-"
"Butt out, Alistair!" Aithne barked.
She turned back to Sten and poked his chest with an index finger. "All your constant whining and grumbling about everything... I've grown tired of it despite my love f... for all your honorable traits! It has to end!" As Sten bore down at her poking finger she curled it and flicked his nose. "Right now!"
"Are you challenging me?" Sten fumed.
Aithne paused briefly, then nodded. "Yeah- I guess I am! Yeah...alright... let's do this!" She backed up and invited the fight with a 'come-at-me' stance. "If you win you can take command and lead us to utter failure! But if I win and resume command you do as I say and knock off all the snide commentary!"
"Very well." Sten growled. He threw his sword and armor to the side to engage in a 'fair' hand-to-hand match. Aithne did the same, but before she took her armor off-
"What are you doing?" Sten asked.
"Making the fight fair."
"Trust me, Warden. You keep your armor on and it'll be fair."
"Hmf! Very well, then."
The group watched helplessly as two of their comrades-made-friends clashed right there on the spot, giving no heed to the surrounding area they chose to duel.
"Aithne! Sten!" Wynne called out. "I don't approve of this but if you two insist on it you need to take it someplace el-"
Wynne stopped to scurry out of the away, seeing the fight moving towards them. Focused heavily on the fight, neither gave the mage indication that they heard her talk. But she was right- despite being unarmed they were badly sliced up by the jagged terrain.
"Indeed! We really aught to move the fight!" Said Aithne. "After you!"
She grabbed Sten by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a dank pool of mud. He scrambled to his feet, only to get knocked back onto to his rear end within seconds by the agile and fast-moving Warden.
How is it possible that she can make it appear so easy to knock a soldier of the Beresaad onto his ass? Eidon wondered.
"What was that you said about women, Sten?" She scoffed, locking his head in her arms. "Please do tell me how we can't possibly be warriors- you just had your ass handed to you by one!" She laughed.
"It's not over yet!" He roared before reaching over his head, grabbing her by the waist, and throwing her into the mud with him. It didn't slow her down- just made her laugh more. They collided again, struggling to overpower each other for several more minutes.
"And I am of dwarven lineage- you have little hope of besting me! You should've kept your armor on, you overconfident derp!"
"Half dwarf... boastful qalaba!"
And obviously half of something else that is likely not human- not even dwarves are this strong! Sten thought.
Aithne charged into him with the force of her repressed anger- both rolled down the muddy edge of a 100 ft bank and crashed into the lake below.
"Aaaaagh-Parshaara! Enough!" Sten roared with an animalistic growl rolling in the last syllable. He slowly and uneasily sat up from the water but refused to turn his gaze on her.
"You submit, then?" Aithne growled, crawling to her feet and towering over him.
It took him a moment to get the humiliating words out with a huff. "I do. If it is your wish... we will continue this foo... this quest. And I will speak my mind no more."
"We'll head up tomorrow. Tonight we will take advantage of the resources and comforts this abandoned village* has to offer and refresh. We will need it."
Aithne didn't realize how badly Sten was hurt- how could she when pride had engulfed her and Sten was so good at concealing his pain?
The majority of the group gathered together at the fire made at the center of the village. Leliana plucked quietly at the strings of her lute, performing casual but beautiful melodies from her heart. She aimed to deliver her companions out of the lingering awkwardness that encompassed them like a dank haze.
As usual Moragan maintained a fair distance and her own small fire, but she listened with an itch of intrigue she would never admit to having. Sten holed himself up in what was once used as a storage facility, yet to shake off his shame.
Though stubbornly proud at first, a restless pang of guilt grew steadily within Aithne's spirit. Perhaps the music softened her heart? In an attempt to make amends she gathered a portion of essential items into a small pack and headed over to Sten's quarters.
"Knock knock." She called out from the doorway- it lacked an actual wooden door so Sten had covered it with long sheets of sack cloth.
"What?" He snarled.
"May I come in?"
"You are in charge, Warden. You may do whatever you wish."
With a long sigh and an eyeroll Aithne entered. "So... I've been demoted from 'Kadan' back to 'Warden'- still sore aren't you?"
With his back turned to her he sat on what seemed like a makeshift sofa formed with the crates and barrels he found within the facility. She watched as he carefully wrapped cloth around his right forearm- that and the back of his head was all she could see.
As she walked towards him she took notice of his underclothes soaking in a wooden laundry tub. The water was moderately dark and gritty- he must've known the herbal recipe for an adequate stain removal.
The layout of the interior was strange for a storage house- it suggested that it served many purposes before it was decided lastly that it was to be a place in which the villagers stored extra items.
"In more ways than one, thanks to you." He paused with a low grunt. "What do you want?"
Still feeling a tad proud she withheld all but a subtle hint of an apologetic tone in her voice when she responded. "Thought you might need some of this stuff- ya know... kits, salves, potions, blankets, cookies-"
"Just set it over there." He huffed, pointing at an end table a few feet in front of him. After another long pause he managed a: "Thank you."
As Aithne turned away from the end table after placing the pack upon it she then noticed he was wearing nothing but sloppy wound dressings all over his bloodied body and ragged cloth draped over his lap that was too short to tie around his waist. Freeing up both hands to tend to his wounds, he trusted it to stay in place so long as he did not make rigid movements.
A warmth arose in her as she gave his deliciously chiseled body a onceover. Sten looked up from his work and caught what was clearly a glint of lewd approval in her eyes.
"Whu'?" He asked bitterly through his teeth, which he used to tear off the excess strand of cloth that he'd wrapped around his left wrist.
"Wh... What the bloody hell is that?" She asked after swallowing hard.
"Hm?"
"That dressing... it's awful! And that cloth you're using... it looks filthy!"
Sten Felt his pride further pinched for his failure to be less than superb at his work. "An old tattered robe I found."
With another growling sigh she grabbed the pack from the end table. "I figured you needed new inventory, but I didn't know it was this bad! You had herbs to wash laundry but nothing to heal your wounds? You should've told us!"
Aithne approached, respectfully trying to keep her eyes at the level of his face, but everything else still jumped out at her from her peripheral vision. "We don't want those wounds getting infected so let m-"
"I'm fine." Sten lurched back with a low tiger-like rumble in his throat.
"Come on... don't let your pride get in the way of good judgment. I promise that your wounds will heal up faster and you'll feel better by tomorrow if you just let me-"
"Alright!" He surrendered.
Before she began correcting the wrappings, Aithne reached into the pack for a bottle of good spirits and held it up to him. "Here. This might help too."
"Dwarven whisky... the last one?" He popped a brow- the slightest but still obvious look of appreciation.
"Nope...this one is." She took one out for herself and downed a few gulps- it numbed her pride and permitted the swelling truth within to surface. "I hope you can accept it as a... token of an apology I owe you."
"There's nothing to forgive, Warden. But... thank you anyway." Sten took several gulps while Aithne removed his bandages.
She was entrusted to provide medical aid and it was only right that she did not let the roar of hormones deter her professionalism. But all she could control was action and spoken word- she could not control the chaos whirling around in mind and body, being so close to his muscle-bound body. It was enough that his voice, whether he spoke kindly or harshly, inspired a strand of broad and explicit thoughts.
"Not for the Sacred Ashes bit." She insisted. "I'm apologizing in advance should this smart like hell."
"Hmm...? Nngh!" He flinched a little when the salve stung the wide gash on his arm.
Giving in more to her humble side, Aithne continued: "Oh yeah... and I'm sorry that you got hurt. I wish that didn't happen, but you started it ya know..."
"You don't need to rub it in."
"Actually I do- the salve has a disinfecting agent th-"
"Not that, Warden. I am perfectly aware now that I was mistaken. You... you were right."
"I too want to kick some Arch-Demon ass and hate having to do all this runnin' around! But if we're going to end the Blight the correct way we have to. We need as many able bodies we can possibly find for the battle! Whether the Ashes have the power to heal or not we'll at least win the approval and support of the Bann of Rainesfere."
Sten nodded, though he didn't catch the whole of her words of reason, lost in the euphoric feeling caused by the whisky and Aithne's hands. She took her time with each wound- on the arms, back, neck, legs, chest, face- unaware that her touch was practically an act of cruelty to a man obligated to hold back the actions it inspired so heavily.
"Well... that about covers them all. Right?" Aithne asked.
Sten shook and turned his head it away.
"No? Come on, Buddy, where else are you hu-"
Sten shifted awkwardly before pulling the cloth aside to reveal a deep gash on the upper part of his inner thigh- during their plunder down the embankment he was stabbed by a sharp knife-like rock, putting a fear of an even 'closer' injury in him well enough to convince the Qunari that submitting was a wise idea.
"Woah. Almost lost the ability to make more Qunaris, didn't ya?" A jest finally pushed its way out, loosened by the whisky.
That comment awarded from him some grimace, but followed by what looked like a small off-to-the-side grin that betrayed his amusement, but it disappeared quickly.
While Sten appeared annoyed by her remark he was truthfully straining to control himself- for every five or so minutes of her closeness and touch he was further stirred. But it was when she started working on the last wound that his body went so crazy with fervor his restraint was painful.
Listening to his breathing, heavy and uneven through his flaring nostrils, Aithne had a sense of what she was doing to him but proceeded.
"I have come to learn, during my time in Fereldan... I have been wrong about many things."
"You've only just figured that out?" Aithne joked.
"Go ahead and revel in the moment, Kadan. You won't get the opportunity often." He replied with a dryly amused tone. "You've changed much of the way I see the world. Know that these words, from a Qunari, are bold and are reserved for only the most exceptional of people."
Hearing this Aithne was struck with so much flattery and honor she stepped back from her work momentarily and looked up at him with hazel eyes abundant with an intensity that echoed throughout the rest of her being. Unable to find the words that would convey her gratitude best, she could only smile with a hard swallow and respond with words shaken by growing restlessness: "Th-thank you, very k-kindly Sten. I'm honored."
She downed the last of her whisky, then returned to her work.
"You and several books I acquired throughout our travels- one in particular is about the many different courting rituals of the world. Apparently it is tradition in one culture for a woman to defeat her intended in hand-to-hand combat to prove herself worthy of being his mate forever."
"So..." She bit down on her bottom lip before pushing out the rest of the sentence, keeping her eyes bashfully down at her work. "Have I proven myself worthy?"
Sten was caught off guard by that question. He didn't answer with words- only a throaty chuckle as he bashfully turned his head away again. Aithne coiled, believing her question to be too bold.
Being only a few feet away, they could hear Leliana talking to the group after playing very lively and spirited music that distracted them so they did not wonder where Aithne had disappeared to. The tone in her voice was still sweet but deep and sullen- she found inspiration for the next song when her mind had reached back to a time of terrible sadness.
"Thinking about the Dalish elves I... I was reminded of a song that was sung to me long ago when... my mother died." Leliana played her lute softly as she reflected. "A wise old Dalish woman comforted me with it, telling me that we should not fear or hate death, for earthly bodies are but vessels of our spirits that live forever- death simply allows them to fly free. I believe it to be a beautiful sentiment, bringing peace and hope to the grieving."
Selba, Dalish herself, leaned forward with keen interest. "I believe I know this song you refer to."
"You may join in if you'd like, m'Lady."
Leliana began to sing- almost instantly the group was entranced. It felt as though there was powerful magic in her song that carried them into a fade-like realm that shielded them from all the knowledge of a world stricken with a dark sickness. Morrigan shook her head, which appeared to be disapproval but it was in fact a brush-off of an indescribable and foreign feeling that managed to dig its way through the icy crust of her heart.
Aithne and Sten as well absorbed the beautiful power of the song as she finished up the last dressing.
She said to him: "All done."- not with words but with a glance and faint smile, wishing not for spoken word to spoil Leliana's enchantment. But words were not needed between them- they both knew they traded forgiveness. What was also known without verbal confession was their special connection.
A Qunari expressing physically this feeling he had within for the Warden? Such actions are preposterous to a rational mind. But his rational mind was not present, and though it contributed greatly it had little to do with the whisky.
The influence of the long-confined desire churned the spirit of the Sten, giving rise to an understanding- for all he knew they could be dead come the morrow. Even if they did survive the quest for the Sacred Ashes they could die during the fight against the Blight- he'd parish with the regret of never knowing the joy of such an intimate exchange.
This was true. This was right. This was the intention of destiny, a thing Sten never believed existed until lately.
He brought a hand up to her cheek. Assured there was no reason to feel regret for her question, a brightness once again filled her face. Giving her a seldom-seen smile he bent forward and locked his lips with hers.
He sensed in the way she clutched his thick arms tightly and submitted eagerly to his kiss that there was a want for more. He wrapped his enormous arms around her small frame and pulled her onto him as he fell back onto the bed, scrunching her gown up and over her hips. The cloth around his waist, the only division between them at that point, rode down with each movement of their bodies and dropped to the floor.
He winced, growing restless with a primal urge snaking its way into him when he could feel a prolonged desire pressed against him.
"Maker!" Aithne wanted to scream- it exited as low and gritty whisper through her teeth, knowing that the rest of the group was within earshot. Her view was blocked but by touch of her lower body she mapped out in her mind all the fine details that the cloth had concealed.
She lightly gnawed on his ear and dug her nails into his shoulders before returning to his lips. She pleaded for more with her body and a fierce facial expression.
He smiled again before grabbing her waist and positioning her just above a long and deep plunge, hesitating for a moment to search one last time for confirmation of her consent- also because he wanted to be a cruel tease.
"Vinek kathas!" She hissed.
Her tone, full of heavy eagerness, rattled him in a strangely bewitching way, fanning the flames of his excitement.
He lowered her, slowly and gently.
So much to feel all at once, physically and emotionally, nothing else in their world was known to their senses at that very moment.
Her insistence to be quiet choked her screams, reducing it to something sharp and cough-like. Arching his back, he produced a crocodile-like rumble that was so deep and powerful its vibrations travelled down the rest of his body.
"FFf-f-f...fgggh." Aithne growled, biting her lower lip and shivering.
She was in pain- he didn't realize it right away because as a warrior she too had a very convincing way of masking it- but there were signs from her body that gave away the truth.
"Aithne." Surprise and concern purred in his low voice.
"It's alright." She whispered. "I'll be alright. It's just a flesh wound."
For the first several minutes there was reluctance in his movements. It disturbed him to know he was causing her pain despite her insinuation that it was a mild pinch.
Frustrated with his choosing to hold back Aithne took up the work. A maddening sensation crawled all over him, driving him to writhe and buck underneath her as he clawed at the crate behind his head.
His hands snapped from the crate back to her hips. He sat up and melted into the Warden, lavishing her upper body with kisses and love bites. He purred into the base of her neck as the beast-like side within consumed and possessed him. Rhythm and rigidness in his movements intensified, striking his Kadan with both thrill and fright.
Then, after over an hour, it ended with one uncontainable roar from the Qunari, which shook the camp to an abrupt standstill.
She finally noticed tears streaming down his face- something she had seen only once before, when she presented Asala to him on the lake docks of Redcliffe.
"What's wrong? Is it your injuries?" Aithne asked.
"No." He groaned. "I'm fine. I just need a moment."
"If you're hurting then-"
"It's not pain." He snapped a bit. "Its... just... so much..."
You've never 'licked a lamp post in winter' either, have you? You'd not yet been rewarded that 'privilege' from them. She thought to ask, but knowing it would only embarrass him she refrained.
Chilled once the heat of their moment together dwindled down, Sten covered himself and Aithne with the blanket she'd brought to him before passing out, tightly knit into each other.
Where is this going? Were his final thoughts before passing out. What can we call this bond between us? Surely I cannot give her what she may want, even if it also what I want. What we want goes against the Qun.
Aithne shared similar thoughts, but she tried to brainstorm ideas of how her title could grant them an exception. She lulled herself with the visions of many possible futures ahead of the Archdemon's demise- one of the most prominent avenue being the banding together as a relentless darkspawn-slaying duo, traveling from shore to shore to keep their numbers checked.
The sound of waves under the ominous ship, the scent of the ocean in the strong breeze and the cold saltwater mist. Perhaps, as a Grey Warden, she would have the rare opportunity to be a welcomed guest or perhaps even a resident of Par Vollen.
"Tea, incense, and the sea…" She remembered him saying, imagining all of these things and then some more- palm trees, soft sand, and the water shining like white diamonds where it meets the bright and warm sun in the bright early morning. Then she succumbed to a deep sleep.
End of Part 1