Summary: NSFW!
On the journey to Denerim, Scarlett and her companions get a sobering reminder of just how much havoc the blight has wreaked on the country, and how high the stakes really are.
We made our way back to the Dalish camp—the journey was markedly easier than before without being attacked at every turn by vicious werewolves, go figure—and filled the elves in on what happened to their leader. Much to my surprise, they took the news rather well—no outbursts or riots or death sentences (not to name names or anything… coughORZAMMARcough). We returned Danyla's scarf to her grieving husband, Athras, who finally seemed to be at peace. I got me some spiffy new ironbark armor that actually fit. The clan got a new keeper, Lanaya, and she pledged Dalish support in our fight against the Blight. Yippee. I asked that she send a messenger to Eamon in Redcliffe, advising him (and hopefully Sten, too) to meet us at his estate in Denerim and get the word out: The Landsmeet was officially a go.
We first made our way east so we didn't have to cut through the forest—I'd had quite enough of that these past few weeks thankyouveryfuckingmuch—before heading north. Though I probably appeared calm, cool, and collected on the outside, my thoughts were running about a thousand miles a minute. I thought I'd be relieved when we secured the last Grey Warden alliance. I expected a great weight to be lifted off of my shoulders once the Dalish vowed to give us aid. Instead, I was finding it difficult to breathe with the weight I was still carrying. And those asphyxiating feelings only grew worse when we passed Lothering—what was left of it, anyway. And believe you me, there wasn't much.
It had been overrun by darkspawn not long after we departed all those months ago, and now enough time had passed for the stomach-churning stench of decaying corpses and charred wood and spoiled food to overtake the sharp, metallic smell of all the spilled blood. The sound of the flies was almost deafening as they swarmed the dead. Images of the attack flooded my mind as though it were happening right in front of me. Caravans that were loaded with the hope of escape were overturned and crushed to splinters before they even had a chance for it. The cozy tavern that was once a haven for the weary was completely razed to the ground, broken glass and soot-covered bones since picked clean by the local fauna surrounding its remains in every direction. A little girl's deserted doll was trampled in the dirt, stuffing spilling from its seams like entrails. I picked it up and held it close, shutting my eyes tightly as a single tear slid down my cheek, my thoughts inevitably falling to the toy's owner and her gruesome fate.
No words. There were no words for a moment like this. My cruel mind, of course, immediately drew parallels to Highever—the home I once knew and all but abandoned in its most desperate hour. If I returned there tomorrow, would I be greeted by a similarly gruesome scene? I could barely stand to think of it, but deep down I knew the answer and felt the tears begin to flow even more freely. I felt Alistair's unmistakable hand slip into mine—the only comfort to be found in this place of stifling desolation. I opened my eyes and found his, my feelings of grief and regret quickly turning to rage and vengeance.
"We'll get them, Scarlett. We'll get them all. They'll pay for this." Alistair vowed with unflinching resolve. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, straightened my spine, and squeezed his hand before turning back to face my companions. One by one, they lifted their heads from their solemn reflections and met my stare that was now aflame with the promise of swift, righteous, merciless retribution. They knew exactly what it meant, and each one made their own silent vow in return. Those sons of bitches were going down and going down HARD.
I tucked the doll away as we trudged forward, a sobering reminder of why we were doing this and how much was at stake. The sudden reality of the situation was suffocating. With each passing day we drew closer to Denerim's gates, and with each step I took toward them I couldn't escape the overwhelming dread. It was really happening. There was nothing left in our way. The path to the Archdemon had been well and truly cleared, and for the first time, I felt the abject fear that came with that realization.
…
The time somehow felt like it went by too fast and too slow. That probably doesn't make much sense, but I'd imagine it's similar to how someone feels when they're headed to the gallows. It probably feels like both the longest and shortest walk of their life. I tried to stay positive, to snap out of the trance Lothering seemed to have triggered, but I found it exceedingly difficult. I hadn't felt this way since that first journey to Ostagar after I'd left home. Empty, through and through. The sun was setting over the treetops, the sky painted in vibrant purples and reds and pinks with hints of fading blue. The weather was pleasant and warm, the sounds of the surrounding area peaceful and serene. And I couldn't appreciate a lick of it. In fact, I almost resented it. It felt as though nature itself were mocking me with its beauty in a world so full of ugliness and despair. It was like a part of me just… shut down. And the only reprieve I got night after night was terror to replace my perpetual numbness—the nightmares, which had retreated for some time, had come back with a vengeance.
"Shall I assemble your tent for you, or did you want to struggle with it a bit first for old time's sake?" Alistair smirked as our companions began unloading their belongings. We aimed to set up camp for the night, only half a day's walk from Denerim's gates.
I barely heard him. I just went through the motions we'd gone through so many times now. Drop my pack. Take out canvas. Find a flat patch of grass. Unfurl the rope. Tie it to a nearby tree. Drape the canvas. Find some rocks. Stake it to the ground.
"Uh… Hello?" Alistair asked as he waved his hand in front of my eyes to get my attention. I turned around from what I was doing to face him. "Alright. Who are you, and what have you done with the real Scarlett?"
"What? Why?" I asked vacantly.
"Because you just put your tent together with absolutely zero help. It's… it's like I don't even know you anymore."
I blinked and turned back around and there it was: A perfectly put-together tent that I didn't even remember assembling.
"Huh… I… I sort of just did it without thinking, I guess."
"Hmm." He quirked a brow skeptically. "I have noticed you've seemed a bit… distracted… these past few days. Is there something you want to—"
"I'm going to go wash up before supper." I interjected before kissing him gently on the cheek. "I think we managed to find some actual food tonight. Should be a nice change."
"Pity. I was just growing accustomed to goopy grey gruel night after night." Alistair joked.
It was true. As time wore on, food had become increasingly scarce. We made the best of what we had by stretching it as far as we could, but it was becoming more and more of a struggle. Little by little, Ferelden seemed to be dying. And it was up to me to turn the tide. No pressure or anything.
"I won't be long." I promised.
He nodded in acknowledgement, but worry was beginning to fill his eyes. "Alright. Come back to me soon."
…
I made my way down to the nearby river. After I took a quick look around to ensure the coast was clear I began to undress, folding my clothes and placing them neatly on a nearby boulder. Then I heard… splashing. Some kind of commotion in the water. I grabbed my sword immediately and looked in every direction, though my surroundings were not exactly easy to see in the fast-fading daylight. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary and resumed disrobing. Seconds later, lo and behold, I heard it again. Then quiet. And then there it was again. I took another quick look around and saw a whole lotta nothing.
"Please don't stop on my account." Zevran emerged stark naked from the water as he finally gave up the game.
I let out a surprised "Eep!" and grabbed whatever I could to hide my mostly exposed body. Yikes!
"How long have you been there?!" I squealed, completely mortified.
"Not nearly long enough, apparently." The elf quipped as he made his way toward me. My mortification was now turning into a much more comfortable emotion—irritation. And he must have noticed, because he changed his tune real quick.
"Do not fret, my dear. I did not see anything… compromising. It was merely a jest. I would never gaze upon your gloriously curvaceous body unless you gave me express permission." He paused and I started to feel my anger begin to fade.
"Good." I relaxed a little.
"So… do I have it?" The elf asked.
"...What?"
"Permission."
"NO!" I shrieked, clinging tighter to the crumpled pile of clothing that was somehow preserving my modesty.
"Gah! Foiled again!" Zevran rung out his hair and wrapped a cloth around his waist. "Such a pity. But, while I have you here, I… I have been meaning to talk to you." His once playful tone changed to something much graver. Uh oh…
"Okay, this sounds serious. Turn around so I can get in the water and then you and I can talk while I wash. Two birds, one stone."
"Fair enough."
"And no peeking, Zevran!"
"Yes, yes. Fine. Ruin my fun."
The elf turned around, I finished undressing as quickly as I could, and I hopped into the warm, murky water, everything obscured from my shoulders down. And I started to feel better than I had in days. Never underestimate the power of a nice bath.
"Now then," I began as I started running soap over my skin, "you were saying…"
Zev turned back around to face me before taking a seat beside my clothes. "Well, I… I wanted to thank you, really. For your assistance with Shina. I was not sure of the appropriate time to discuss it, but I have not felt that exposed—hehe the irony of me saying that while mostly naked is not lost on me, but I digress—I have not felt that exposed in a very long time. And you were there to protect me. And you did not balk when the time came for me to have my revenge."
"What she did to you was… really fucking low. Manipulating you by using the only people you've ever cared about…" I just shook my head in disbelief and disgust as I recalled Shina's dastardly antics.
"For all of my… misdeeds… many would say I had it coming." Zevran admitted in a rare moment of delicate remorse. "And I cannot say I would blame them."
I stopped washing for a moment and got as close to the shore as I could so he could see how earnest I was about to become. "We've all done things in our past that we're not proud of, Zevran. Maker knows I have. But you've been here, fighting by my side, almost from the beginning, for an almost impossible cause. You gave your word and you kept it, despite me releasing you from your oath to serve me. Aside from the rather unfortunate circumstances that brought all of us together, I care about every single one of you, very deeply. I told you before: You have become a part of this family, Zev. And no one—NO ONE—hurts my family and gets away with it."
Zevran nodded ardently. He knew I meant every word. And that stupor I was in slowly began to melt away. Our talk reminded me that this wasn't like Highever when everything I knew and loved had been stripped from me. I had a new family now, new loved ones to protect and care about. I had no reason to be empty. Not anymore.
"Thank you, Scarlett."
"For giving you a show before?" I teased in an effort to lighten the mood a bit.
Zev chuckled brightly before getting serious again. "Well, yes, there is that. But thank you also for just… giving a damn. About any of us—especially a lowly washed up assassin such as myself. It's… something I've not had a lot of in my life—affection that wasn't only something physical. I have found that with you and I just... did not want to face the end of this without saying that."
"You're welcome. And thanks for talking with me. I was having a bit of a rough go of it lately, and you just kinda snapped me out of it." I smiled broadly, which he returned. "Now, kindly leave. I'm getting pruney."
"As you wish." Zevran tried to make a stealthy grab for my clothes before taking his leave.
"Do not even THINK about it, Zevran! Drop them." I ordered. Having been found out, he immediately complied.
"Damn. I must be losing my touch." I heard him mutter as he walked back to the camp.
…
Wynne made rabbit stew for dinner—a very VERY welcome change—and we all sat around the fire as we ate our somewhat meager portions. Oghren even parted with the remnants of his precious ale, and considering how empty our tummies had been lately, it didn't take long for the majority of our little cohort to get downright sloshed. I managed to restrain myself, taking a sip here and there, but leaving most of it for everyone else. I knew I needed to be at the top of my game if we had any chance of making it out of this thing alive, and they needed the morale boost more than I did.
"I do not believe I am willingly inserting this garbage into my body." Morrigan's mouth twisted into a disgusted grimace as she took another sip of ale.
"Hey, you're starting to sound like my ex-wife right before we bumped uglies!" Oghren joked. We all had a good chuckle at that one.
"Come now, Morrigan. Must you be completely miserable every second of your life? We've had a real meal, all the alliances have been forged, and we arrive at Denerim tomorrow! We fought hard for this moment. We've earned the right to have a bit of fun." Leliana beamed as she and Zevran made flirty eyes at one another.
Morrigan groaned. "I detest fun." The mage paused for a moment as she thought better of her statement. "Well, not entirely true. I did so enjoy teasing Sten whenever the opportunity arose. But now that we are robbed of his presence, there is just nothing for me but this sludgy bitter mess that the dwarf dares try to pass off as a beverage."
"This is the drink of the gods, woman! But hey, if you're not gonna finish it—" Oghren reached for Morrigan's cask, which she quickly clutched to her chest.
"Hands off, halfwit." Morrigan narrowed her eyes at the dwarf and he backed off with a "that's what I thought" grin.
"It's true." I assented. "We did work hard for this. And at the risk of getting sappy—"
As soon as I said the S word I heard an audible grumble from several of my companions. Like that was going to stop me. PSH!
I dove back into my little speech, a bit louder this time to drown out the whining. "I just want to say—before we get too knackered—that I could not have come this far without each and every one of you. Your help and companionship has meant the world to me, and the fact that you've all stuck with me through thick and thin, it's… well, it speaks volumes about what rare and special people you are."
"I am NOT a person."
"Oh for the love of Andraste, you know what I mean, Shale. Now let me finish!" I snapped back at the golem.
"Fine, but I wish to ensure my protest of being lumped in with such a feeble species has been duly noted."
I just smiled and shook my head. "What I'm trying to say is, whatever happens next, wherever this journey finally leads… please just know that I could not have asked for a better group to share it with."
"Here here!" Wynne raised her drink for a toast and everyone followed suit.
"To friendship." Alistair proposed.
I found his eyes and gave him a shy smile. "To love."
Alistair returned my smile and blushed slightly just as Zevran hiccuped and wormed his way between Alistair and me. He reached up to put his arms around our shoulders. He couldn't quite get there and we had to kind of lean into it a bit. The elf just loved to overestimate his own height and underestimate everyone else's.
"To family! To LIFE!" Zevran shouted.
"TO LIFE!" Everyone echoed the sentiment and took a nice, long drink.
Wynne breathed in deep, filling her lungs to capacity with the cool night air as the fireflies danced around us. "What a beautiful night!" The mage exclaimed before her sweet smile began to fade. "But though we are all here celebrating our accomplishments, we should not forget those who have lost their lives along the way. Maker rest them."
Oh boy… this took a turn. So much for fun and revelry. Wynne always was a bit of a downer when she drank, Maker bless her. But she was right. We couldn't lose sight of those we've lost, of the sacrifices they made and the pain they endured. It wasn't an easy thing to dwell on, but it would make us fight even harder against our enemies. Their deaths would not be in vain.
"Leliana, would you grace us with a song? To honor them?" Wynne asked.
"Funny you should ask, Wynne. I was just thinking about what happened to the elves, and I'm reminded of a song sung to me many years ago. It… it was when my mother died. This wise elven woman comforted me and told me that we shouldn't fear death, or hate it. Death is just another beginning. One day, we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free. It's a beautiful sentiment, I think. One that brings peace and hope to the grieving."
Leliana stood up and and sang a beautiful elven ballad. I wasn't fluent in the language by any means, but from what I could gather from the words I did know, the song was about loss and grief, but ultimately, it was about love. And I think it was a perfect reflection of what we were all feeling that night.
I caught Alistair looking at me as she sang, affection and warmth were there in his gaze as they almost always were, but there was also something else. Something… sad and fleeting. And just when I thought I was starting to heal up, reality decided to punch me in the face one more time.
The Landsmeet was coming. And that little gathering would most likely determine the future of this entire country. Eamon was going to posit Alistair as the rightful ruler of Ferelden. I'd known that for awhile, and I actually felt like it was the right move, all things considered. Alistair was a good man, kind and compassionate, and from what I'd seen during that whole ordeal with the Dalish, he'd do the job and do it well. Would there be a period of adjustment? Some growing pains perhaps? Of course, but given time and opportunity, Alistair would blossom into the best damn king Ferelden has ever known. Of that, I had no doubt.
But, perhaps selfishly, my thoughts turned to us. I'd sworn to myself back in Redcliffe that no matter what happens, he and I would stay together. I was so adamant about it that I didn't even consider the possibility of any other outcome. But now that the time to make an actual decision was drawing nearer and nearer, I became filled with doubt. It won't be as easy as that. Nothing ever is. Especially when politics are involved.
Once she finished the last note, Leliana bowed her head reverently, as did we all. We sat there in the somber silence for a while, thinking about everyone we'd loved and lost along the way. Then, as if the Maker could somehow sense our melancholy, it began to rain. One by one we all peeled off, retreating into our tents—the time had come to call it a night.
I crawled into my tent as quickly as I could, clothes only slightly damp from the beginnings of the downpour. Alistair followed. I slipped into that old wine-stained tunic and he removed his own altogether, his body always somehow magically radiating heat like he carried around his own furnace just beneath his skin. We stuffed our wet apparel into the corner and unfurled the blankets as we lay down. I snuggled into his chest, my arm wrapped around him tightly as he stroked my hair.
"You're so quiet." Alistair noticed.
"You used to tease me all the time about how quiet I am. It was one of your favorite things." I countered.
"Well yes, but, you've since opened up, thank the Maker." He paused for what I thought was a smile, but I didn't look up for confirmation. "I know this quiet, Scarlett. What's wrong? Is it what Leliana and Wynne said? Are you thinking about your family?"
"No, oddly enough. I mean, I was, but... I've been thinking about a lot of things since Lothering." I admitted.
"Yes, that was… that sight was pretty tough to take in." Alistair admitted. "But the Blight hasn't spread everywhere. Not yet. There's still hope for the future."
"Funny you should mention that. All this time I've spent dwelling on the past—my home, my parents, Ostagar... Now that it's finally time to confront it, to right those wrongs, I find myself worrying about the future instead."
"You're talking about the Landsmeet…" he reasoned.
I nodded, still not brave enough to meet his eyes. "What in the Maker's name are we going to do, Alistair?" I asked the question softly as the rain pelted against the walls of the tent, my head still resting against his warm skin, his heartbeat thumping steadily against my ear.
"We're going to walk in there. You're going to be your usual charming, irresistible, and incredibly persuasive self and win the hearts of everyone in that chamber, and in all likelihood, I'm going to become king."
"I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing this on you. Don't let anyone bully you into this. Not Eamon, not Teagan, not even me. It's your life and no one else's. I mean that."
"I know. I mean, I appreciate you saying that. For the longest time I didn't know what that felt like—to live life on my own terms. But I've been at it for a little while now—trying to figure out who I really am and what I want. And although I'm still not super thrilled about this whole king thing, I'm not as terrified as I used to be. I tried being a Templar. I tried being a Grey Warden. Maybe neither of those stuck because the Maker has other plans for me, I don't know. I think I may even be starting to warm up to the idea. And that's thanks in no small part to you."
"You have a good heart, Alistair. And you've already learned so much about what it means to lead in such a short time. You have so much to give..." I propped myself up to finally look at him while my hand rested on his chest. "When all of this is over, this war-torn country is going to need you to pick up the pieces."
"Thanks. I just… I hope I'm up to the task. There's a lot to consider with all this. It's probably going to get ugly. I mean, what about Anora, for example? From what I hear, she's not a bad queen. Why should I—"
"Anora?" I almost hissed her name. "What has she done to help this situation? Where was Anora when Cailan and our brothers were murdered? Where was Anora when Lothering fell? Where was Anora when civil war broke out across the land and where is she now that darkspawn are at our doorstep? She's had countless opportunities to act, and instead she hides behind her father's shadow and watches this country rip itself apart under his rule. That's not leadership, Alistair. That's cowardice."
Alistair raised his brows at my comments; apparently I'd caught him off guard by unloading like that. Perhaps I did come off a bit strong, but the more I thought about her inaction, the more infuriated I became. There's more to being queen than hanging on your king's arm like attractive window dressing.
...Okay, maybe I was being unfair—there was more to Anora than that (she wasn't Isolde, after all, and I had heard that she played a considerable role in running the country while Cailan was alive). But still, I had a really hard time imagining the ice queen riding into battle with the Ferelden army to defeat any enemy, let alone bloodthirsty beasties who crept up from the Deep Roads like monsters from a fairy tale to wipe out mankind. And if you aren't willing to fight beside the very people you're asking to risk their lives for their country, you should step the fuck aside and abdicate.
Phew. Okay, rant over.
"You raise a good point. I hadn't thought of it that way." He paused for a moment before cracking a smirk. "How are you this smart all the time? Don't you find it exhausting?"
I smiled weakly at the compliment. "It's not smarts, it's just… looking at the big picture." I bit my lip and started fidgeting, trying to find the courage to continue down this perilous road. "But that's not really what I meant. When I asked what we were going to do, I meant more in terms of… you and me."
"Scarlett—"
"Just… just let me finish. I know I've tried to end things before to make life easier on us both, but that never seems to stick. And I've been trying to be better—to be open and honest and clear about my feelings instead of just… just—"
"Shutting me out and desperately trying to regain control of a completely uncontrollable situation?" He finished for me.
"Y-yes. That." I swallowed my pride and let it go because I knew he was spot fucking on. Hooray for self-improvement. "So, here it is. I'm willing to have a conversation before doing anything rash. Some big changes are headed our way, Alistair. Our relationship… I just… I don't know where this thing is going. Do you?"
He wrinkled his forehead as though he were thinking really hard about my words. His pensive state seemed to stretch on for an eternity, as though he were envisioning every conceivable outcome to the monumental question I posed. I was already in the process of steeling my heart against the inevitable pain I figured he was about to cause. I shut my eyes tight, bracing for bad news—for him to parrot Eamon and say that honor and duty must come before our own selfish desires. That he has to think of what the country needs above all else. That the Landsmeet may very well be where our journey together ends.
But then, before I even knew what hit me, he rolled over and climbed on top of me, pinning my wrists down and covering my face and neck and chest with about a thousand quick kisses. I cackled and squirmed beneath him, my body twisting and convulsing, almost unable to handle the sudden onslaught of affection. Then he stopped abruptly, his body hovering above mine as he looked down and met my eyes, tenderness and love and the slightest bit of stubborness shining through them.
"I'll tell you one thing, Scarlett Cousland. I don't intend to let you get away, if that's what you're thinking. King or no king, I'll find a way to make it work. I swear it."
He seemed so sincere. So strong and certain and reassuring. It was exactly what I needed to hear. And against my better judgment, I believed him. I mean, between my own unrelenting obstinance and his idealistic determination, we were bound to find a way to stay together, right? Things would work themselves out. They had to.
I craned my neck up to meet his lips, a gentle brush before I breathed the words "I love you" against them. And then my mouth quirked into a knowing smirk as I felt him react to me.
"Gah… um… ignore that." Even in the extremely dim light I could see he was blushing profusely, his manhood straining against the inside of my leg. "Sorry. Not the best timing, I know. But in my defense, it has been awhile and I do have the most beautiful woman in the world pressed firmly against me, so…"
You know what? Fuck it. Even if our days were numbered, I figured I should seize every opportunity to make the most of our time together. To make each second count. My smile widened as I kissed the corners of his mouth.
"Make love to me, Alistair."
"What, now?" He asked, completely puzzled that I would be open to such a thing at a time like this.
I adjusted the position of my hips so I felt his rigid length rub against the fabric of my panties, which were already becoming damp with my growing lust for him.
"Right now." I demanded softly.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as though he were bathing in the sound of my plea. "Oh thank the Maker for that."
He let go of my wrists and reached down between us, tugging at my panties frantically. I raised my hips to assist his efforts, kicking them off completely as he worked to remove his smalls. He crushed his lips against mine as he positioned himself on top of me again, my legs on either side of his hips.
"You're so tight." He noticed as his head began pushing past my slick folds. "I'm… I'm not sure if I can fit…"
My lips found their way to his ear lobe. I nibbled and tugged on it just a bit before uttering my simple command: "Push."
He moaned as he took me at my word and shoved his entire length into me in one long, hard stroke—no pretense, no hesitation, just our shared raw need to make two become one. I gasped into the kiss as he breached me, the shock of his force and girth catching me off guard. He was right; it had been awhile.
"Oh Scarlett…" He sighed my name beautifully as my walls gripped and pulsed around him. "I've missed you—oh Maker I've missed you so much." The rumble of his voice gave me goosebumps and caused things low in my body to throb and tighten even more. I couldn't help it. There's nothing sexier than a man who's vocal in bed—especially one with a delicious voice such as his. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he thrusted, hooking my ankles behind his back. The move elicited a deep groan that I cut short with another breathtaking kiss, our hips still rolling into one another over and over and over at an ever-quickening pace. But somehow, I wanted more.
"Deeper, Alistair. Please!" I begged and even that earned another moan from him as he sat up, forcing my legs apart and draping them over his broad, sweat-coated shoulders. He opted to slow his pace, making me feel and savor every single inch of him sliding in and out of my drenched opening. It felt damn good already but then something made him decide to reposition his hips ever so slightly, his hands cupping the cheeks of my buttocks and forcing me to meet his every deliberate thrust as he stretched and reached my very core. He found just the right spot.
Oh.
My.
Maker.
I threw my head back with wild abandon, unable to focus on anything but the feel of him, the sparks his every move was sending through my body, the beginnings of that deliciously familiar climb toward ultimate satisfaction. He picked the rhythm back up then, taking special care to repeat exactly the same motions and hit precisely the same spot with each push of his hips as his speed increased and my pleasure swelled.
I panted his name as I began to shake, his pace and power over me both merciless and unyielding. He kissed me again, that same power pouring from his mouth to mine, as though he were trying to devour my very essence. In that moment it almost felt as if he had become someone else—as if the boy I fell in love with was gone and replaced by a man I almost didn't recognize. But then our eyes met as the kiss broke, and against my lips he sweetly whispered, "Please."
Ah. There he is. My Alistair.
It was all I needed as I gasped for air, my back involuntarily arching as my every nerve ignited.
I basked in the ebbs and flows of pure bliss as the orgasm washed over me, his teeth grazing my neck, my legs falling off his shoulders like dead weight. But he never fully stopped moving inside me—just slowed a bit. My vision was blurry, the world around me suddenly rose-colored and magnificently hazy. I blinked and kissed him softly, breathing deep and hard, my walls twitching and spasming with every little move he continued to make.
His generosity fulfilled and my needs sated, he began thrusting the slightest bit faster, testing the waters, so to speak. He knew that I could be very, very sensitive after I reached my climax, almost to the point of discomfort. And though my sensitivity did seem to be heightened considerably, no way was I leaving the job half done.
I reached up and nipped at his stubbled chin as I ran my hand down his chest, then his stomach, then lower until I found his manhood and wrapped my fingers firmly around the shaft. His thrusts continued, my hand providing added friction as my opening suckled at the tip of him with each one. He wasn't going as deep as before, but that worked out well for me, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying the new sensations my hand brought him, his breaths becoming more labored as he inched closer and closer to the edge. It wasn't long before I was fully ready for him again. I stilled my stroking and just as he had moments ago, I whispered "please" before removing my hand completely and giving him free rein to move inside me however he wished. The word earned me a throaty "mmm" as he started rutting into me once more, throwing caution to the wind as he chased his gratification however he saw fit. A few thrusts more and I finally felt his release, hot and thick as it filled me to the brim.
He collapsed on my chest as his hips came to a halt, our hearts still racing, our breathing hard and deep. I ran my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and planting a kiss on his head every so often.
"Maker's breath but I do love you." He sighed dreamily as he drifted off to sleep.
"And I you. Now and always."
…
Though I tried to slow our approach with every trick in the book—stirring up skirmishes between Morrigan and Alistair, pointing out nearby birds to Shale, asking Zev and Leliana about their "relationship status," picking Wynne's brain about the moral ambiguity of the Circle, accusing Oghren of not being able to hold his liquor; you name it, I tried it—we still reached Denerim in record time.
Damnit.
We arrived at the gates, but from the looks of things, this wasn't going to be as easy as I'd initially thought. There was a horde of desperate, angry refugees—Maker have mercy, there must have been hundreds of them—trying to get through. Loghain's guards were stationed there, trying their hand at controlling the mob as best they could, but they were losing the battle and fast. We tried to worm our way through the rabble and make our way to the front, but I don't even know why we bothered. What was I going to say? "Oh hi! I'm that outlawed Grey Warden everyone's been looking for. Kindly let me in so I can murder your commanding officer. Thanks!"
Yeah, that'd go over well.
What we needed was a distraction. A big one. Think, Scarlett. Think.
Before whatever machinations I cooked up were fully formed, Meatball took it upon himself to make a beeline right for the gates, running past the guards who tried to stop him with ease. I followed through the path the Mabari had cleared as best I could, but of course, the guards wouldn't let me pass.
"That's my dog!" I shouted.
"I don't care if that's your dear old mum! Nobody gets through until they've been rightfully processed." The guard explained, more than a little harried from the chaos surrounding him. But then he looked up at me, a crooked smile spreading across his face as he studied my features. "Ah, not a knife ear, so at least that part's easy. And you're all woman, too, if I do say so myself."
I glared at the guard with disgust. "Processed? What does that even…"
"Name." The guard demanded gruffly.
"But I don't underst—"
"NAME." The guard pressed.
No fucking way could I give them my real name. By now I'd become rather infamous, and if they knew who I really was, it was bye-bye Eamon's posh estate and hello Fort Drakon.
"Look, sweetheart, this isn't difficult. No name, no entry. Although, I might be convinced otherwise if you have… something else… you're willing to part with." The lecherous guard looked me up and down, practically licking his chops. Blech!
"I'd rather die." I growled.
"Have it your way." He turned to one of his associates. "Remove her. NOW!"
I opened my mouth with the desperate hope I'd be able to come up with a brilliant lie on the spot—we both know how I excel at thinking on my feet, right? NOT. Luckily, someone interrupted me. A towering figure with skin the color of the ginger cookies he'd come to love and a voice that boomed like rolling thunder.
"This... difficult woman and her followers are with me."
Oh Sten, you big softy.
