CHAPTER TEN

Royal Guest House

Diamond Quarter, Orzammar

As soon as she entered the guest house, she rushed to her room. She slammed the door closed, leaning against it for a moment. Her eyes burned with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She went straight to the bathroom, scrubbing furiously at her hand to strip the blood from her skin.

She rushed to pack the necessities she would need to survive a trek through the mountains. She had done it before, and she would do it again. She had to. Word would spread of the maleficar that helped the dwarves, and the Templars would come. They would hunt her, but they would fail.

She dropped her pack against the doorframe with her wolf-fur coat and bear fur. She kicked off her shoes, and they thumped into the wall a few feet away. As she searched the rest of her room for a pair more suitable for mountain hiking and any other necessities, a knock sounded on the heavy door.

'Leave me!' she yelled.

The door opened. She spun on her heels as Alistair entered. Her heart sank in her chest, her stomach churning. He closed the door behind himself, leaning against the frame as she had, his head bowed.

'I know what you're going to say, Alistair,' she said, feeling lost in the centre of the room, 'but when I met you, I had already decided not to use Blood Magic anymore. I knew you would never accept me if you found out. I never even wanted to do Blood Magic in the first place, but you don't survive in Frostback Mountains as a mage for as long as I did without it. I was an apprentice when I escaped. I knew enough magic to get me by, but I had no concept of just how powerful I could become, or how powerful I would need to be. The first time I cast a blood spell, it was instinct. My coat wasn't pieced together one wolf at a time. They followed my scent for days, surrounding me when I was too exhausted to run anymore. One moment I was cowering, waiting for them to take the first bite; the next, I was surrounded by dead wolves.'

He stalked towards the desk, his back to her. His fingers wound through his hair, gripping tight before he dropped them to his sides. She watched him for a moment. Without his armour, she could see his shoulder muscles tighten beneath his shirt, his hands balling into fists. He slammed them down, making the items on the desk jump.

'Come on, Alistair,' she said, anger sparking inside her, 'do it. Call me a maleficar. Call me a knife-ear. The words are burning in your mouth, so just spit them out. I would love to see you cut out your own tongue, or was that just a lie? I've heard it all, Alistair, and I've been lied to before,' she snarled the words, reaching into her robes. As tears started to burn in her eyes, she ripped the cord from her neck, clenching it tightly in her fist. She stared at the emblem, and the fight left her voice. 'You can stay in your perfect little world, Alistair. You wouldn't last one second in mine. If you had experienced even half the hatred I have faced in my life, you would have thrown yourself off the top of the Circle Tower. Maker knows I nearly did.'

As she tried to leave, he grasped her wrist. She levelled her eyes on his hand. She could not use force to escape, his grip too tight. He could break her, and he knew it.

'Let me go, Alistair.'

'You could have died.'

'But I didn't,' she snapped, 'what else was I supposed to do? We were surrounded Alistair. Should I have let Bhelen's men die? Let Wynne and Shale die? Let you die? You were so shaken by a nightmare of my death that you screamed in your sleep. Now imagine you had to live it. What would you have done to save me?'

'Anything.'

'Anything? Even if it went against your beliefs?'

'Yes.'

'Yet you condemn me for doing the same. You may not have taken your vows, Alistair, but deep down, a part of you is still a Templar.'

'No,' he said, 'no. I would never…' He seemed to choke on his words. 'You have to understand–'

'No, I don't. I have spent my entire life trying to understand the hatred of others. It doesn't matter how much I lo– it doesn't matter how I feel about you anymore. I won't be judged for trying to save my friends. For trying to save the man I…'

Rokara opened her hand. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes blurring as she stared at the carving. She had held the emblem so tightly that it had left an imprint in her skin. She pulled his fingers from her wrist, gently laying the griffon in his palm before she folded his fingers around it.

'Goodbye, Alistair.'

'Roka…'

She turned to pick up her pack from beside the door, but his hand grasped her wrist again. When she faced him, she was ready to throw a punch, but he anticipated the attack. He pinned her arms above her head. She gasped as he pressed closer, her back against the cold stone wall.

'Just when I think that I have you figured out, you surprise me again. There are parts of me, Roka, parts deep inside my soul that you have seared with your touch. I… I nearly lost you today. I can't… I should have known it would not be so easy, should have considered more variables. I forced you into the position that you were in, and you're right. I would do anything to save my friends.

'It doesn't matter anymore,' she said. She fought his grip, refusing to meet his gaze.

'It does,' he whispered, 'you keep putting words in my mouth when I haven't the ability to form my own. I'm not angry at you for using blood magic. I accept that you did what you needed to do, and I would see you do it again if it kept you safe.'

'I–'

'You once told me to listen. Please, listen to me now,' he said. He released her wrists, his hands cupping her cheeks as he bent his forehead to hers. 'I am not angry with you, Roka. I could never be angry with you. I am angry at myself. I nearly lost you today, and you would never have known–' His breath shuddered from him. When he opened his eyes, she could see the tears that he had tried to hold back.

'Maker's breath, Roka. Being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not… ever. I should have told you when we made love in the tent, because when I held you then, I knew, but I didn't have the guts to tell you how hard I've fallen. I love you, Roka, so much that I can feel it dance like a fire in my soul,' he said, re-tying the cord around her neck, the griffon resting by her heart, 'please forgive me for allowing you to believe that I would think any less of you for using blood magic. I would cut my heart from my chest before I ever allowed my mind to utter a word against you.'

Relief flooded through her as his words echoed in her mind. She struggled to find her voice.

'Alistair…' she whispered. He pressed his lips to her forehead. She realised that, after everything he had said, he meant to leave her.

Alistair turned from her. She had every right to hate him: he knew all she had experienced, all the prejudice she had faced in her life, even in silence. It would only have taken one word in the Thaig to reassure her, but he had let his anger, anger directed at himself, overwhelm him.

His chest ached as he reached for the door knob, the pain rippling through his body. At that moment, he realised that he was feeling his heart break.

Slender fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. When he tried to pull from her grasp, her nails dug into his skin, pinching. He did not want to meet her gaze.

When she reached for him, he nearly darted backwards, but she wiped his tears from his cheeks. He leant into her touch, savouring this final moment with her, even though he could not bear to say goodbye. His towering frame shuddered, overwhelmed by her touch. This petite elf had been through so much, and he could not blame her for hating him.

'I love you, too.'

He held her hand against his skin and took a shaky breath, sure that his heart would explode at her words. He turned his head to place a kiss on her palm.

'Roka.'

She was still breathless from her anger and the sheer relief that had replaced it. Her heart hammered in her chest when he met her gaze, his eyes the colour of onyx in the darkened room, the depth of his emotion drawing her in.

'I need you,' she whispered.

'Then I am yours, my darling,' he said and she drew him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, 'always.'

He pushed her back against the wall, the impact making her gasp. She could see nothing beyond his towering frame as she wound her fingers into his soft hair, holding so tightly that he seemed to anchor her to the earth. She could feel every hard line of his body as he enveloped her in his embrace, his hands trailing to grasp her hips, drawing her impossibly closer. When he claimed her lips, she felt her body ignite under his touch. His kiss had been searing before, but now it burned her to her very soul like a brand.

He stripped her robes, tossing them to the floor at his feet before he gripped her thighs, lifting her lithe body easily. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms winding tighter around his neck as he carried her to the desk. He swept his arm across the surface blindly, the contents clattering to the stone floor. In the back of his mind, he heard something shatter, but he did not care to look.

He sat her on the desk and stripped his shirt, the fabric ripping in his haste. He shook it from his arms, his hands gripping her thighs to pull her closer. Her hips cradled him. He stripped her of her undergarments, her breath hitching against his lips.

He broke the kiss, but only to lay her back on the desk. He was hit anew by her beauty, her slender body trembling beneath his touch as he trailed his calloused palms over her hips, her stomach. He cupped her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed as he circled her pert nipples with his thumbs and a moan tumbled from her lips. She arched her back, her hands covering his, encouraging him. He was thrilled by her guidance, his fingers following her slow, gentle movements.

He bent his head to her nipple, taking the tip between his lips. He flicked his tongue over it, earning a gasp as he trailed a hand down to her thigh. He massaged her, coaxing her hips wider.

He found her already slick with desire. He coated his finger in her arousal, her hips almost bucking as he circled her clit. He started slow, his pace quickening with each moan. When she rolled her hips at his touch, seeking, he slid his finger into her core. He thrust gently as his thumb found her clit.

With his head laid on her chest, he could feel her heartbeat thundering against her ribs, could hear her rapid breath. Her body clenched around him, her orgasm nearing. He met her gaze, her golden eyes glowing with passion as he coaxed her to her climax. She released a broken cry, and he could take no more.

He withdrew his finger, ripping at the cord to his pants until he could finally kick them off. He dragged her closer to the edge of the desk, wedging his hips between her thighs. He wrapped an arm around her waist, crushing her to his chest to claim her lips. Her body cradled him, and he thrust against her slick core, coating himself in her climax before he plunged into her waiting body.

He groaned at the heat that enveloped him. His grip on her thighs was almost bruising, but when he ground his hips against hers, his touch only heightened her pleasure. He could feel her orgasm subsiding, the sensation spurring his thrusts.

Her legs wound around his waist, her ankles locking at his back. She held on tightly. Each time he drove into her, she bounced on the desk. The heavy wooden legs beneath them screeched, the desk sliding on the stone floor with every thrust.

'I think–'

'Bed?'

'Yes.'

He lifted her, but only made it a few feet. A hoarse moan wrenched from his chest.

'Wall will do,' he said through clenched teeth.

Her back met the cold stone, and he shifted his hold, his arms cradling her, her knees hanging over his elbow, his fingers spreading over her hips.

'Alistair…'

'I know.'

He could feel his control slipping, sensations beginning to overwhelm him. He focused on her sharp breaths, on her fingernails as they dragged across his skin, on the way she moaned his name. He could feel her nearing her orgasm and he tilted his hips, finding the angle which would take him deeper. She whimpered as he slowed his pace. He rolled his hips to stimulate her sensitive clit as he thrust, and she felt heat pool in her core, her nerves clenching in anticipation.

He arched over her. She cradled his head in her hands, drawing his eyes to hers.

'Together,' she gasped.

'Always.'

With a final roll, her orgasm flooded through her, her toes curling as she screamed in abandon. Her core tightened around his aching shaft, and he could take no more. His muscles stiffened, his back rigid as he lost his final thread of control, his roar of pleasure filling her ears as he joined her.

His chest heaved, his body shaking. He shifted his hold on her and stumbled back to the bed. When his knees hit, he dropped down, sitting on the edge, still cradling her against his body.

Her thighs squeezed, nearly crushing his hips, but he revelled in her tight embrace. He cupped her neck, claiming her lips, savouring her touch as her fingers traced soft patterns over his back, making his skin tingle.

He lifted her, laying her back on the mattress. He smiled at the questioning look in her eyes, then hooked an arm under her knees and back, lifting her. He carried her to the bathroom, climbing into the natural spring that emerged from the wall. He nestled her between his legs, her back against his chest. He wrapped her arms around her waist, settling back in the steaming water. Her fiery hair tickled his chest as she sank into his embrace with a sigh, the water easing some of the battle aches she had not had time to notice.

He swept her hair over her ear. Dried blood was crusted along the bottom edge, a chunk taken from below the tip. The silverite cuff that had once adorned her ear was gone, torn off with the chunk of cartilage.

'Roka, you're hurt.'

He reached to the table beside the spring, grabbing the nearest cloth. He dipped it in the hot water, gently wiping the blood from the wound. She flinched at his touch, and he pulled back.

'It's ok,' she said, 'just tender.'

He knew how sensitive her ears could be. He steadied his hand, gently wiping away the rest of the blood, turning her head to look at the wound.

'It was an arrow, from the genlocks,' she said.

'Any further over and it might have taken off the tip.'

'I would have been half flat-ear.'

Although she laughed, he nuzzled the other tip.

'I love your ears,' he said, 'they're part of you, and you are beautiful.'

She leant her head back against his chest, a smile spreading across her lips.

He tightened his hold on her, placing soft kisses on her neck. The weight of the battle, of their love-making, settled on his shoulders. When she barely stifled a yawn, he forced himself to rise from the spring. He dried himself quickly, then turned to offer his hand. He helped her step over the high stone side and bundled her in a towel.

'We'll ask Wynne to heal it,' he said as he wrapped her ear with a soft cloth.

She trailed her fingers over a raised scar on his bicep.

'No,' she said, 'it will heal on its own, given time. It will be a reminder of what we did, of who we helped.'

He cupped her cheek.

'You are full of surprises, my darling,' he said with a smile.

She took his hand, drawing him back to the bedroom. They climbed beneath the lush covers, and he tucked her against his chest. They talked in whispers until Rokara snuggled tighter against him, her hand covering his heart. Her steady breaths lulled him, and he soon drifted off beside her.

They woke to a knock. Rokara sat up slowly, holding the covers to her chest. Alistair rolled onto his back with a groan, cracking an eye open. He lifted his head, staring grumpily at the door.

'Do you think, if we ignore them, that they'll go away?'

'I know it is in there. I will open the door if it does not respond.'

'That's a no.'

'Come in, Shale.'

The door swung wide, and the golem angled to get through the frame. Wynne followed closely behind, averting her eyes from the bed.

'Oh, I thought you would be dressed.'

'It would seem, wise one, that they reconciled by rubbing together again.'

'Makers breath,' Alistair muttered, dropping his head back. He rubbed his eyes, 'both of you, please leave.'

'Is it embarrassed about its fleshy needs?'

'No, I just don't want to discuss it with a golem and the lady who is old enough to be my mother.'

'Technically, grandmother,' Wynne said, smirking.

'Making it worse,' he said, pulling the covers over his head, 'so much worse.'

'Could this wait?' Rokara asked, glancing sideways at Alistair, though she had to stifle a smile.

'I thought it would like to know that the King visited.'

'And I wanted to make sure that you hadn't killed each other,' Wynne said, 'what with all the screaming last night.'

'Sweet Maker, kill me now.'

'Oh Alistair, don't be so dramatic,' Wynne snapped playfully.

'Easy for you to say.'

'All right, everyone, stop,' Rokara said, 'what is so urgent that can't wait for us to at least get dressed?'

'The King has received a report from the surface,' Shale said, 'a high dragon has been sighted circling near Redcliffe. Intelligence suggests it has landed near the village in the Hinterlands. It suggested we might want to pursue it.'

'A… a dragon?' Rokara asked. She had heard that some still roamed the wilds, but it had been a long time since they had threatened a large human population.

'We'll leave you to decide,' Wynne said, directing Shale out of the room. The door closed softly behind them.

Rokara propped herself up on her elbow, pulling the sheet down to Alistair's chest.

He peeked at her with one eye.

'They're gone?'

She laughed. 'Yes.'

'Thank the Maker,' he said, 'for an old mage and a golem, they're a lot of trouble.'

'In a lot of ways, those trouble makers brought us together,' she said, tracing patterns on his chest, 'they saw what was developing between us when we were not ready to see it ourselves.'

'For that, I am grateful,' he said, brushing the back of his fingers over her cheek, 'you know, when they're not barging in on us when we were in bed. Imagine if we had been mid love-making…'

'The scandal,' Rokara said, laying herself across his chest.

He laughed, revelling in her smile. He wrapped his arms around her, making her gasp as he rolled her beneath him.

'I know we fought a broodmother yesterday,' she said, looping her arms around his neck, 'but… I've never fought a dragon.'

'Mmm?' he said as he dropped his head to her ear, nipping at her skin.

'Do you think we could handle it?'

He rose above her, his brow quirking. 'You want to fight a dragon?'

She bit her bottom lip, and he nearly caved at the devilish look she gave him.

'Maybe,' she said, 'I just know that there is so much of Ferelden that I have never explored, either because I was locked in the Tower, or too scared of Templars to venture beyond the safety of the mountains… until now. I'm safe with you, and… and I want to spend the rest of my life, however long that is, exploring with you.'

Alistair's gaze was intent, searching. Whatever he found in her face made him grin.

'Two mages, a warrior, and a golem walk into the Hinterlands…' he said, dropping to brush his nose against hers before he stole a kiss. He tucked her hair behind her ear, knowing that he would follow her across the world if she asked. 'What could go wrong?'

THE END