(Dragon Age Inquisition)

The Priestess and the Arishok

A/N - OMG, I struggled so hard with this! If there was any story that I think I may have bitten off more than I could chew, THIS would be the one. Seriously, as much time as I spent on this, it still may not be all that good. I proofread, but if you see anything amiss, PLEASE let me know! Sorry in advance. Thanks!


Ch. 2 – The Attachment

Mireeka passed a plate of assorted foods to Ataani. The two priestesses were having lunch outside in the walled common area near the shipyard. The sounds of the ocean and bustle of the dock workers were a lull in the background on a beautiful sunny day.

The two ate with purpose but did not rush. Clients were steady today, and all the priestesses took turns feeding themselves before returning to their duties. Mireeka and Ataani, best friends despite the age difference, always took the opportunity to dine together.

Ataani watched her friend for a moment, chewing her food as she considered a thought that had long been on her mind. She was unsure if she should mention it, but eventually opted to give her thoughts peace.

"Do you think he will come again?" she asked, giving her friend pause as she brought a potato to her mouth. She tried to keep her voice bland, to keep the hope she felt from showing. It was hard to meet the other priestess' eyes.

Perhaps he was not as impressed as her friend had let on. After all, if she had pleased him so, he would have visited her again by now, Ataani thought.

The older priestess placed her food back on her plate. "He may. He may not. That is not for us to worry over. We simply do our duty when our patrons present at our door," she stated calmly, appearing equally bland.

Ataani glanced at her face briefly. She could never really tell when her friend was joking or serious. So she lowered her eyes and resumed eating. Then she felt Mireeka's foot tap her softly under the table.

Mireeka's face was just barely smiling. "I am sure he will return," she said reassuringly. "He seemed very pleased after his visit with you, more than I had ever seen him. The Arishok has always been very stoic and hard. Though he is no smiling fool, his demeanor was…different that night. You most certainly left a lasting impression on him."

Ataani could not help but be filled with pleasure at hearing this. She kept her face as blank as possible, though she was smiling on the inside. Her mind had been constantly filled with images of the Arishok since that night almost two weeks ago.

She tried to be subdued, to not let on that he had affected her so, for she could not put a name to how she felt. He was the head of the Antaam. To form any kind of attachment to him was not only unrealistic, it was not tolerated.

Attachments formed on the basis of sentiment were frowned on in their society. If two Qunari formed such a union, it was not unusual for them to disappear, either for a time or forever.

Those who did return were…different. Their minds forever changed, reformed like hot glass. Most of these were relegated to the mines for manual labor. It was all that could be expected of them.

The consequences were enough to keep the masses from rebelling against their teachings. Most embraced it fully. Ataani did so as well, but sometimes she wondered about some of the more restrictive tenets.

She kept it hidden well enough, but it was there all the same. Why could the Qunari not form attachments or have their own families? She had seen some of the conquered, the different races of bas that had come either voluntarily or by force.

She'd seen the families, the units of individuals who had been torn from one another. Many of them had been re-educated not long after their arrival. Making them more useful, they'd called it. No one could serve the Qun with such emotional distractions.

In her heart of hearts, Ataani thought it was horrible. Seeing the crying children separated from their mothers, some never to see them again, it was barbaric to her. But she dared not say anything.

The wrong word in the wrong ear could earn her a re-education of her own, and if that failed, a dose of qamek.

She shivered at the thought of becoming mindless, drooling, like those who worked the quarries. She would rather die.

For now, she would keep her opinions to herself, even from Mireeka. She could not chance it. Her friend was still talking, posing a question.

"You took your Tea after that night, yes?"

Ataani nodded. "Yes." Her senior was referring to the herbal mixture all Tamas who worked the temple took. It tasted terrible, but it was a useful contraceptive. "I imbibed the morning after just before I came down to break my fast."

Mireeka took a sip of her water. "Good. With any luck, Kutal will see you again before he leaves. I hear he will soon be leading the Antaam on another mission across the sea."

Swallowing her food, Ataani tilted her head, her brow furrowed. "Kutal..?"

Her friend was barely smiling again. "Yes. That is his true name. He asked yours. It is only fair that you know his, though I do not advise using it in the presence of others." She began eating again, chewing with mischievous fervor.

Ataani followed suit, a barely-there smile blooming on her face as well. Kutal. She liked it.


Kutal listened as the Ariqun prattled on about the need for more priestesses. The three pillars of the Qun, or Salasari, were composed of the Arishok, Ariqun, and Arigena. They were meeting, as they did once every other moon, to discuss anything of import.

The Arishok had great respect for his fellow leaders, but found it difficult to focus. He knew that all three of them needed to be strong in order to properly support the people, but this meeting bored him. So he stifled a yawn, thinking of preparations for the mission to come on the morrow.

At least, he did for a moment.

It wasn't long before his mind turned again to eyes of liquid gold and delicate hands. He steeled himself. He could not be distracted. It was of great concern to him, the way his thoughts kept going back to her.

He'd visited the pleasure temple before, on more than a few occasions. Why was this one Tamassran on his mind so? No, her true name was Ataani. He thought on it, had let it roll off his tongue. Ataani. It was appropriate, sounded exotic and whimsical, just like her.

Throughout the gathering, his memories had started to harass him. The way her body had fit so well against his, how she had cried out when he had… He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to regain his discipline.

In the weeks since he had met her, he had been occupied with the bulk of the preparations for their campaign, too busy to dwell on other matters. Now that so little of that remained, he had more time to himself, which meant that there was more time for troublesome feelings to invade.

The girl had been in the periphery of his attention while he was busy. Now, when he intended to leave with the Antaam in the morning…it was quite the opposite.

Perhaps another visit would help to purge her from his system so he could be the leader his men deserved. The thoughts, the blooming attachment, these were not of the Qun.

He would have to rid himself of his desires for the sake of the mission. Perhaps he needed to see the priestesses in re-education. They would definitely know how to cleanse him.

He would only do that if all else failed.

The meeting concluded shortly after that. He had final preparations and inspections to make before his departure. So he headed toward the shipyard to check on things there.

As the Arishok walked, he observed the daily business going on at the dock. There were ships laden with the sea's bounty, supplies bartered from merchants, and other important items for the people. He was pleased with what he saw.

A group of Saarebas were being guided onto a dreadnought, their chains rattling as their Arvaarads followed closely. They would prove quite useful against their enemies. Tevinter wielded magic like no other enemy he had ever faced.

Everyone was working, each piece bettering the whole. His motivation was bolstered. If they could be productive, so could he. He would accomplish much this day, despite his turbulent thoughts.

Then he smelled it, that flowery essence that had so bewitched him that night. He closed his eyes, eagerly inhaling as much of it as he could and focusing his senses on it.

She was near. He was shocked at the sudden desperation he had, just to catch a glimpse of her. He discreetly searched, but saw no one within his line of sight. As he came closer to the docks however, he finally saw the object of his thoughts.

She was seated with his sister, eating within the walls of the commons overlooking the shipyard.

His pounding heart sped up. She was talking, eating happily. She hadn't noticed him yet, so he took that moment to study her unabashedly. She was wearing similar robes to the ones she had worn that first night, but these were thicker, designed more to clothe than to entice.

He would see her tonight. He needed to before he set off tomorrow, lest he be distracted. His mind felt splintered, chaotic. A moment with her would put it back together again.

His plan set him at ease. So he turned reluctantly away from her to go about his duties.

But Mireeka had seen him. She gave no indication, waiting for Kutal to turn away. "The ocean is always so scenic this time of day." She sipped her drink, watching her junior priestess closely.

Ataani raised her gaze to the sea, and froze. She saw the Arishok, Kutal, walking towards the ships with long strides. He wore his usual armor, his magnificent horns adorned with the golden rings of his station.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. Had he noticed her? He boarded one of the ships and was soon out of sight. Ataani's eyes flitted to Mireeka's face. She had resumed eating, but her knowing expression made it obvious she had seen Ataani's reaction.

Thoroughly embarrassed, the younger priestess set down her utensils. "I will return to the temple." She stood and left.

Mireeka looked out at the ocean again. What was she doing? It was not advisable to encourage this…connection between the two of them. Such feelings would definitely be cause for suspicion, would lead to problems for her friend and especially her brother.

The Arishok had much more to lose than the priestess. He held the entire Antaam in his hands. If he were taken to re-education, both morale and confidence in their leader would fall amongst the soldiers.

But Mireeka had seen how Ataani had affected her brother. She also knew that, though he hid it well and would never voluntarily admit it, his position was taking a toll on Kutal.

The many years of conflict with Tevinter, the pressure to conquer and spread the Philosophy, it was a tremendous responsibility. Even with his resolve, his strength, and discipline, even Kutal needed relief and respite at times.

He had been happy that night, more so than on any of his previous visits to the temple.

If things continued as they were, he would break. He needed relief from being Arishok, even if only for a moment. He could be just another warrior, someone needing help, healing, and replenishment.

Mireeka knew that Ataani could provide those for him. And though she'd be risking much, Mireeka would do everything within her power to assist if they wanted to see each other.


Later that evening, Kutal paused in front of the temple. He and his men had finished preparations early, enabling him to come sooner. He had come straight here. It was disgraceful, how much he ached for her.

He entered through the entrance, and Mireeka appeared as if from nowhere. Her expression seemed…worried somehow. It perplexed him.

"Shanedan," she greeted, bowing before glancing down the hall. "It is an honor, as always, to serve you, Arishok." Mireeka tried to keep her face from betraying her apprehension. Why did he have to come now, of all times? He'd just missed… There was no help for it. "Please, follow me."

She led him to one of the rooms. It was different from the one before but was furnished much the same. He took his seat, and she bowed to him, the same awkward expression on her face.

Kutal frowned. Why was she so stressed? After a few minutes, his question was answered.

A soft knock was heard at the door, and in walked…a priestess that was not Ataani. His frown deepened. Mireeka knew very well who he wanted to see. Why would she send in someone else? When the other priestess approached him, he suppressed a growl.

He did not want another. He wanted her! Standing, he gently moved the frightened young priestess out of his way and proceeded to the door. Mireeka was standing at her post by the exit, and when he drew near, she was unable to meet his eyes.

Brushing past her, he made his way back to his quarters, his thunderous expression causing others to jump from his path. He entered, slamming the door behind him in an uncharacteristic show of temper that stunned even him.

He was suddenly so angry, and he didn't know why. She was a priestess. Naturally, she would have other patrons than just him. So why was he in the throes of a jealous rage? How many had seen him shame himself just now?

Kutal began to remove his armor. He needed to rest. Yes, that was the solution. He had to be fresh for tomorrow. They would leave out early. This state of mind simply would not persist. Rest would surely replenish him.

Naked, the Arishok went to his bedchamber and lay down and began the long struggle to sleep. He hoped to be in better spirits in the morning. The welfare of his men depended on it.


Mireeka watched him go, the set of his shoulders and his steps showing how displeased he was. The one he'd wanted had been busy, and she'd tried her best. She would have explained, but when Kutal was angry, she, like everyone else, knew to leave him be.

The temple was busiest when there was war, and someone had come just shortly before Kutal. The priesthood was suffering a shortage, and Ataani had had to attend the visitor. Hopefully more apprentices would come of age to remedy the deficiency.

She worried for her brother. His state of mind was tumultuous at best, and on the eve of a mission. She had to do something. Maybe she should have had the other warrior wait for someone else to become free…it was best not to dwell.

Then an idea came to her mind.

After some time, Ataani's patron departed the temple. Mireeka bid him farewell and went quickly to the room in which Ataani could be found. She opened the door to find her junior looking out of the one window in the room.

"Do you require cleansing?" Mireeka asked. Tamassrans typically visited the baths between each visitor.

Ataani shook her head. "He merely requested massage and to listen to his concerns." Their duties did not always require coupling. Visitors often sought other forms of release and psychological counseling.

Mireeka nodded, pleased. "Good. I have a rather…uncommon request of you."


Ataani followed the path through the night, per Mireeka's instructions. A left here, a right there, down past several dwellings, until she finally reached her destination. She stood in front of a lodging that looked similar to the others in the complex.

She took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself. So great was her eagerness she had nearly run over. But her friend had urged her to walk normally to reduce the chance of drawing attention to herself.

It was rare to see a Tamassran alone at night, her attire a conspicuous indicator of her role at the temple.

So she had come quietly, a cloak wrapped about her to conceal her at least some, and found herself in front of what was said to be the Arishok's domicile.

She knocked tentatively. Hearing no movement, she did so again, louder. Still nothing. Her disappointment mounted at the thought of having to turn away. Again, she knocked, using a fist this time.

Still, no one answered. If she did any more she would attract unwanted attention. She was about to leave when the door begin to open.

Kutal's form could just barely be made out, the dim light of a fire in the background. Ataani pulled back the hood of her cloak, exposing her adorned horns and face, her long hair billowing from over her shoulder. She bowed. "Shanedan, Arishok."

He stared, a deep frown her only greeting. Her stomach turned to knots. Was he angry with her? Would he reject her visit?

Kutal regarded her coldly, taking in her garb. Her stomach was bare, her navel enticing. Was this how she had dressed for her visitor earlier tonight? Had she given him full service? He could not stop the nagging, irrationally-jealous voice that asked these questions in his mind.

She questioned him with her eyes. Did he want her to stay, or would he send her back? He did not know. He had hoped rest would bring him back to himself and return him to his more rational, honorable demeanor.

He was disappointed, however, as his mind still ran with anger, his hands eager to rend and break. Sleep had been unattainable, and that had put him in a foul mood.

Perhaps he should send her away, banish her for the sake of his sanity. He needed to be himself again!

Ataani saw the disapproval in his face. Her face falling, she drew her hood around her again and turned to leave. She got a few steps when the baritone of his voice stopped her.

"Wait."

She heard him and stopped, even as her pride screamed for her to keep walking. Duty or not, she would not be toyed with. She had stood there like a fool, while he regarded her as if trash, all without returning her greeting. It was very rude.

"You may enter," he uttered, his tone as if speaking to one of his men.

Ataani faced him, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "Are you certain, great Arishok?" she asked, her tone put off. "I would not wish to go where I am not welcome."

He knew he had angered her. Kutal put away his hurt pride. She was a spirited one, this female, and he valued that. But all the same… "I would not have asked if I was not certain."

She frowned as she approached, walking into his quarters. Her cloak brushed against his bare chest as she passed. Closing the door behind them, he watched her surveying his dwelling, noting the discarded pieces of his armor on the floor.

He normally kept everything in order, but given the occurrences of the day, he'd had little concern for it. Besides, her visit had been unexpected. But there were more pressing matters on his mind than her opinion of his home.

"I visited earlier," he said softly. "But you were…unavailable."

Ataani turned to regard him a moment, mulling over a proper answer to his accusatory tone. "I am a priestess, Arishok. I was doing my duty. Surely you of all people know what that means." She had a good point.

He held her eyes a moment then dropped them. He would have to accept this. It was her responsibility after all, likely one she had been assigned from the moment she had come of age. He had no right to feel possessive of her.

Yet he was, and it bothered him to no end. What was happening to him?

"But if you are wondering, no, I did not lay with my visitor tonight. He sought a different form of comfort, one that did not require me to undress," Mireeka asserted.

She could tell he was relieved at this and gave him one of her almost smiles. In truth, she had been overjoyed when Mireeka had told her of his visit. She had wanted to see him too.

She did not know what this was between them or what it could become. All she knew was that it felt good. The repeated lessons on the Qun loomed over her joy, warning her. Her feelings brought great risk.

She would worry about that later. For now… She loosened the thong that secured her cloak, letting it slip to the floor. She glanced at the pool of brown cloth at her feet, stepped out of her slippers, and raised her eyes to his face.

That odd expression he'd worn that first night was back. It did not suit one such as the Arishok, but she could understand how he must feel. It was new, this attraction she had for him, contradictory to all they had been taught.

But all they could do was live in the moment, here and now.

Kutal had put on a pair of breeches to appear decent when he answered the door. She approached, holding his eyes, and placed her hands flat against his massive chest. She moved them up to his shoulders, fingers moving purposefully over taut muscles.

"How may I serve you, Arishok?" Her gaze bore into his. "You were pleased by my massage last time."

Kutal was silent, his heart speeding up as he finally felt those beautiful hands upon him again. She was a bold one, Ataani. He had no idea of the fiery personality she had. Tonight, it was on full display, and he was intrigued despite it all.

Their people were not encouraged to have personalities that varied from the norm. Such things could be problematic. Having similarities aided them in their collective purpose.

If what little he had seen were any indication, Ataani was an anomaly. Thankfully, she was adept at hiding it.

It was an honor to see her true self, and it excited him. He grabbed her hands in a gentle grip. "I do not desire a massage." There was no need to state what was obvious. She knew. He could see it in her eyes.

The growing hardness within his hastily-donned breeches could attest to what he truly wanted. If she had come all this way to offer him what he so desperately wanted, he would not refuse her.

Without a word, the Arishok held her wrist, drawing her through the anteroom to his bedchamber. Upon reaching it, he let her go to disrobe. She inspected her surroundings, pausing when his large hands landed on her shoulders.

Kutal guided her toward the bed, tugging at her robes. His hands were impatient, and when they heard fabric rip, he slowed down to calm himself. Ataani was surprised but moved to purpose, letting her robes fall soundlessly at her feet.

Naked, she eased herself onto the bed and lay down, her eyes meeting his, waiting.

Freed of his breeches, he moved forward, his eyes roving hotly over her. Surely this would cure him of this incessant ache he had for her. He needed to slake this lust, or he would put everything in jeopardy.

Mounting the bed, Kutal leaned down and placed his face in the curve of Ataani's neck, inhaling. Her legs drifted apart naturally, cradling his hips therein. He breathed her in, letting her permeate him to his toes, opening his mouth to taste her skin and feel the soft brush of her hair against his face.

His hand caressed her. It moved from one of her horns, lightly brushing her face, then lower, past her neck to her chest. He cupped a breast, the combination of his mouth and hand drawing a sigh from her.

She hadn't realized how badly she had wanted him to touch her until he had. Each brush of his skin against hers left tingling warmth in its wake. A blush began to color her skin as she became more aroused.

He lingered but for a moment, soaking in the softness of her skin, the flowery scent in his nostrils, his mouth. Dipping his head, he engulfed a nipple. His teeth scored against her puckered flesh, and she moaned without restraint.

The sound of her pleasure excited him, and his hand drifted lower as he continued at her breasts. Sliding along her belly, he reached her sex, his fingers exploring before tunneling within her. Her body was hot, tight, and blissfully moist.

He growled against her skin, his eyes opening to watch her face. Her eyes were tightly closed under drawn brows, her breaths fast and shuddering. He couldn't take it anymore. Withdrawing his fingers from her, he guided his body close, his forehead against hers, and entered her, sinking deeply.

Ataani hissed as her body gave way to his. He seemed to fill every empty space until there was no way to tell where one began and the other ended. His breath fanned her face as he began to move.

Supporting his weight on his forearms, he pulled back slowly, marveling at how she squeezed him. Her body tried to suck him back in almost on its own, aiding him as he thrust back home.

He wanted to go slowly, gently, but the need between them was too great. Her responses, the way her hips rose to meet his, they thrilled him more than any battle, forever making an impression in his mind and in his heart.

Soon his face was once again at her neck, and his hips were moving quickly, driving him into her with bruising force. He told her of his need, his unexpected, insatiable thirst for her, with each thrust.

Kutal grasped her tighter. He was getting close. He could feel his climax approaching, and he held her hips immobile as he began his ascent. His instinct was to ensure that she had her pleasure first.

But it was too good. Her body was perfect, more receptive than any of his other partners. Her silken sheath tightened around him, formed to his member as if made for him alone. He could not stop, not even if he died.

Ataani reveled in the pleasure she brought to Kutal, her body reacting to the excitement in his. That feeling was there again, the coiled pressure in her belly, and she wrapped her arms around him. Her fingertips traced over his back and the scars that peppered the broad expanse.

His teeth against her neck, his hands squeezing and kneading her bottom as he lifted her into his thrusts, in seconds all of the sensations caused the pressure within her core to explode. She clutched him close, both her arms and her body. The convulsions had her moaning brokenly against his ears.

Then she turned her head, one of her hands cradling his head as her mouth brushed his ear. "Kutal…"

Hearing her whisper his name in passion was enough to push him over the drop, propelling him into climax. Grunting harshly against her throat, the Arishok came hard, his hips jerking in an erratic rhythm.

His thrusts lost their power, and soon he was still against her, his body fluid and drained. He withdrew from her, dropping to her side as they both caught their breaths.

As the night wore on, the two drifted off to sleep, and the Arishok found true rest for the first time in weeks.


Kutal watched the priestess as she slept. The thin covers were spread sparsely over her, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her curves where she rested on her back. He had never had another in his bed before. Usually he would visit elsewhere to see to his needs.

The feeling was foreign but oddly satisfying to him.

He had awoken after a few hours of sleep with an idea in his head, one that might actually help things while he was far away from her. Deciding to give it a try, he had quietly climbed out of bed to sit at the desk near the window of his bed chamber.

Hopefully, his sister would help. He turned away from Ataani, dipping the quill in the inkwell and putting words to paper.

Afterward, he slid back into bed with her. It was a very unusual for a Tamassran to spend the night with someone, especially someone of his station. It simply was not part of their duties and certainly did not adhere to the Teachings.

He should probably wake her and send her on her way before there were others to see.

But his body acted as if on its own, molding itself to her. She woke just enough to curve herself against him, causing him to note not for the first time how perfectly they fit together.

He did not sleep, only soaked in the feel of her, the smell of her soft hair. He fingered the gold ring that decorated one of her horns. It was so similar to his, yet smaller, more feminine.

Upon closer inspection, he observed a small smattering of freckles that sat over her nose and across her cheekbones. They were easy to miss if one did not pay attention. To him, they just added to her allure.

Soon, he could just barely make out the light of the morning through his small window. Sitting up, he gently shook the priestess, who had been sleeping deeply.

Ataani came out of sleep sluggishly, her shoulder being shaken. She opened her eyes slowly, seeing a muscled torso turned toward her. Suddenly very awake, she sat up to face the Arishok. Vashedan! She hadn't meant to stay the whole night!

"Apologies, Arishok," she sputtered as she rose, looking for her robes. Finding them, she dressed quickly, hitching the torn shoulder strap over her shoulder and donning her cloak. She began searching for her slippers.

Kutal watched her, amused. He did not regret her stay here tonight with him. For all they knew, he could die on this expedition. He insisted on leading his men from the front, never hesitating to enter a battle himself. This was not an unwelcome way to spend the last night in his homeland.

He stood without shame for his nakedness, and followed her as she approached the exit. When Ataanni's hand rested on the handle of his door, it was quickly covered by his larger one. She stared at their hands, swinging her gaze up to his face.

His eyes were steady on her, facial expression blank. "I ask that you take this to your hostess," the Arishok requested of her. He held a parchment in his hand, free of a wax seal. He must trust her not to intrude on his privacy. Or perhaps he wanted her to read it?

Gingerly, Ataani took the letter. His hand came up to frame her face, and he touched his forehead to hers. He rested there for a moment with closed eyes, loath to let her go. But duty called.

He would have to put on the mantle of Arishok and lead, as he was born to do. There was no choice.

When they parted, he was slow to let her hand go. There was so much to say and nothing at all. From the look on her face, she too felt the pull between them.

But what could be done? They would never be permitted to be together. No one knew that more than he.

Hopefully the letter would help at least some. Mireeka would let him know of her displeasure, but he knew his sister. She would do as much as she could.

Ataani opened his door slightly, peering carefully outside. Seeing no one of notice, she stepped out to begin her return back to the temple. She turned back, bowing. "Panahedan, Arishok," she murmured.

The Arishok gave her a nod. "Ataani," he called, when she moved to walk on. He caught her curious eyes. He'd never called her true name before. "You may call me Kutal."

The priestess managed to nod. "I wish you safe journey…Kutal." She turned then, quickly making her way back.

Ataani hid her face as she went, a small smile on her lips.

She was long out of sight when he finally closed his door.


Kutal watched as Par Vollen became smaller and smaller, the great dreadnought negotiating the choppy waves expertly. He was both eager for this mission and frustrated with it. The warrior in him reveled in the battlefield.

But that part of him that had come to life, the part that craved Ataani, already languished for home. He hoped he would see her again, soon.

As his home faded into the distance, the Arishok hardened himself for the days to come. He knew not when he would return, but the concerns of home would keep. His men needed him now.


Note: I realize that Qunari don't have "true names" as we have them. Most of their names outside of their station are a series of sounds designed to show their breeding. That is exactly what the names I've mentioned in this slightly AU story are, FYI. Thanks for reading!