CHAPTER 20

..x..

"Impressive work, Wardens. Thanks to you, my people won't have to worry about those criminals destroying their shops and threatening their lives." Harrowmont shook their hand with a slight smile on his face. "As a reward for your efforts, I have arranged to cover all costs of your stay in Orzammar. So try to enjoy yourselves while you are here… despite the unrest."

He gave them a once over, seeing the dirt, blood, and grime over them after their incursion into Jarvia's territory. "There's a bathhouse by the inn in which you are staying. Only the nobles can afford to go there, so you should not run into too much trouble there. Feel free to use it at my expense."

Zevran snickered at his veiled suggestion. "That sounds nice, actually."

"Thank you, my lord," Everil replied, dipping her head while offering him a smile of her own. "So… does this solve your political problems, Lord Harrowmont?"

He clasped both hands behind his back and gazed down, shaking his head with a sigh. "If only it were that easy... While what you did for me bolstered the people's support for me, this is still not enough to seal the deal."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "So you still need us to help you."

"I'm afraid so... And the next task will not be an easy one."

"All right… What else do you need?"

"For every decision in which there is such a division between our people, we look to our ancestors for advice. Their word carries great value, especially now without a king."

"Aren't your ancestors dead?" Zevran asked while scratching the back of his head, tousling his platinum hair.

Harrowmont tilted his chin up. "There is one who still walks among us."

Everil crossed her arms. "A Paragon."

"Correct." Harrowmont nodded. "Paragon Branka is the only one the Assembly will listen to. Obtaining her support will be the last piece we need."

"And where do we find her?"

"That is where it becomes complicated." The old dwarf turned around, moving to the fire warming his study, gazing at the flames. "She has been missing for some time. The last we heard of her, she had put together an expedition to travel into the Deep Roads roads. I ask that you find her and bring her back to us."

"What? Go to the Deep Roads roads?" questioned Alistair, not quite believing his ears. "That's... That's a pretty tall order."

"You are Grey Wardens. I am certain you can handle it," Harrowmont said with unwavering confidence.

Alistair folded his arms with a helpless smile. "Look, my lord... We appreciate your faith in us. But even with our entire party, it would be near suicide to search for someone in that darkspawn-infested maze. Especially without some sort of clue on where to look."

"I agree," Everil added, doubt in her tone. "Do you know of anyone who could give us more details on a location? Or even a map…? If we have a more defined path, then perhaps we could consider it."

"I didn't say I would send you in blind." Harrowmont approached his desk, a few steps away. He produced a rolled-up piece of paper from a drawer, then walked to Everil, handing it to her. "This is a map of what we know of the Deep Roads roads. I have no idea exactly where she went, but she has to be in one of the thaigs."

"Then that's a start," she said with a nod, putting the scroll away in her bag. "We will head out first thing in the morning and hopefully bring you news upon our return."

"My thanks." He gave them a grateful dip of the head. "And good luck out there.'

"Thank you." She and her friends then headed for the door, leaving the old dwarf alone in his study.

Harrowmont released a heavy sigh, then returned his troubled gaze to the flames. He didn't like sending them into such danger, but they were the only ones he knew would most likely pull it off. "May the ancestors guide you, Wardens."

.x.x.x.x.

The bell that signaled the night reached Everil's ears once more. After a brief trip to the bathhouse, she was already back at the inn. Preparing to enter the Deep Roads roads the next day. The thought alone made her nervous.

Grey Wardens mostly went to that forsaken place when nearing the end of their lives. To wage one last, glorious battle against their sworn enemy before succumbing to the taint. Haunted blue eyes stared back at her in the mirror, taking in her reflection, clad in a simple white gown. She brushed her still damp hair with a comb, her mind wandering into dark thoughts. Wondering how much the curse changed her body.

She didn't feel ill or weakened by it. But she knew it was because it was a slow, silent killer. Taking over her being and stealing years from her like a thief in the night. She questioned if her parents would have allowed her to join the order if they'd known the heavy price they paid. Not that it mattered… Had they not agreed, I would have likely died that night too…

Everil gave her head a shake, trying to dispel the unpleasant memories. Her chest felt heavy with guilt and grief over their loss. She had come a long way from that somewhat sheltered girl, and she had the bumps and bruises to show for it. If she had to do it all over again, even while being privy to the cost, she would do it without regrets.

A knock on her door pulled her out of her reverie. She placed the comb down on the dressed, then made her way to it, opening it. "Morrigan? How can I help you?"

The witch pressed her lips together for a moment as if thinking of the right words. "May we speak in private?"

"Sure, come in," Everil stepped back, allowing her entry into her chamber.

Morrigan gazed around the room, seeing only her and the mabari lying on her bed. "I assumed Alistair would be with you."

"He went to the bathhouse with Zevran," Everil replied, closing the door.

"I thought those two did not care much for each other."

Everil chuckled. "They seem to have grown more tolerant of one another. Plus, I made them go. We all reeked after today."

"I see." Morrigan smiled, placing both hands on her hips. "At… any rate. I wanted to apologize to you for my recent behavior. I questioned your ability to lead due to your romantic feelings for your fellow Warden. 'Twas not my place… especially after all you have done for me."

"You speak your mind. There's nothing wrong with that," Everil said with a smile of her own. "What brought this on, anyway? You rarely contradict yourself."

"I still believe as I do—that love is a useless thing. But you are your own person… and I… admire your ability to follow your own path. Regardless of what others think you must or mustn't do." She gazed at the floor, avoiding her stare as she turned to leave. "'Tis all I had to say... Good night."

"Wait, Morrigan."

She paused on her way out, facing her.

Everil went to her bag by the bed, rummaging through it. "On my way back from the bathhouse, I ran into a traveling merchant who sold trinkets on the road." She rose and walked up to her, carrying a small bundle in her hands. "I saw this in his cart and immediately thought of you. I want you to have it."

Curious, Morrigan took the item and unwrapped it. Her eyes widened the moment they landed on what lay inside the worn cloth. It was a golden mirror, with jewels encrusted around the edges. "You… You remembered?" she whispered, her shocked gaze trailing up to meet hers.

Everil smiled. "Of course I did. What sort of friend would I be otherwise?"

The witch hesitated, attempting to find her words, the warm feeling in her chest alien to her. She had told her a childhood story in passing. Never did she think such a tale would stay in her mind for this long. That she would bother remembering something so trivial about her past. But she did. And Morrigan didn't know what to do with herself.

She held the mirror to her chest, a genuine smile spreading over her purple lips. "I… I also think of you as a friend. Perhaps even a sister?"

"That sounds accurate." Everil tilted her head, patting her bare shoulder. "We've been through much together, you and I."

"We have..." Morrigan gave her a kind look that surprised even her. It was strange and difficult to describe, but she'd never been this close to anyone before. Not even with her own mother.

She wanted to say something more. To thank her from the depths of her heart and even attempt one of those things they call a hug. "I—"

Someone entering the room disrupted their conversation. They saw Alistair walk in, his hair still wet from his bath. He was carrying his Warden armor, clad in a beige shirt and brown trousers after cleaning it. He sent them an odd look. "Morrigan... What are you doing here?"

She scowled with distaste at his intrusion, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. "The War—Everil and I happened to be having a private conversation. I thought this Arl Eamon of yours had taught you the most basic proper manners. Such as knocking upon a lady's door instead of barging in unannounced." She raised her chin. "Apparently, I was mistaken. Though I am not surprised, considering you have the cognitive abilities of a toadstool."

"Sheesh… What an elaborate way to insult someone," Alistair grumbled, moving to the nearest table to set down his gear. Then he headed back to the door. "Sorry I interrupted. I'll leave you two alone."

"'Tis far too late, you fool." Morrigan stalked past him, the mirror still secured in her arms as she exited the chamber. "You have ruined everything!" She slammed the door shut, her retreating steps stomping down the hall.

Everil let out a laugh at the bewildered expression on his face.

"What in the Maker's name was that all about?" he asked.

"Don't take it personal. She was just embarrassed."

"Morrigan? Embarrassed? I find that hard to believe..."

"You didn't see. I gave her a gift and you walked in on her beaming like a child. I've never seen her like that before."

"What...? Oh, man." He chortled. "Now I wish I would've seen it! I would've laughed in her face."

"Alistair…" Everil chastised, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, yeah… She has nothing on me, though..." He let out a dejected breath. "I just bathed and drank whiskey in a tub full of burly dwarves. Who, by the way, spent the entire time laughing at my missing chest hair, all the while, sitting next to an elf who wouldn't shut up about the women he'd bathed with—details and everything. Not even the expensive alcohol helped tune them out."

She chortled. "Oh, I can picture that..."

His smile widened. "Glad you find my misery amusing."

"Sorry…" Everil tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "At least we're not paying for any of this."

"Yeah, it surprised me to hear that our… employer… would take care of the coin for us."

She nodded, pausing as her mind returned to the troublesome thoughts. There was no guarantee they would succeed in helping Harrowmont. They didn't even know for certain where to find the Paragon, or if she still lived. Should we risk this much on a task that may very well turn out to be pointless? What if she's dead?

"Hey…" Alistair noticed the abrupt shift in her mood and stepped towards her, cupping her cheek. "Everything all right?"

"I just…" She drew in a breath and exhaled, ashamed by her next words. "I'm... more than a little nervous about tomorrow..."

"About the Deep Roads roads...?"

"Yes…" Her brow furrowed as she gazed up at him. "We'll be walking into darkspawn territory… What if something goes wrong?"

He let out a breath of his own and embraced her, resting his chin atop her head. "Everything will be fine… We just have to prepare well before going. And with the Blight, there might not be as many darkspawn underground. Which means we may be able to avoid the bulk of their numbers."

"I suppose you could be right…" She brought her arms up and about his waist, pressing the side of her face to him. "I don't think we should take everyone with us. A smaller group will draw less attention."

"Mhm..." Alistair agreed, listening to her as she continued to ponder out loud.

"Shale can take on large numbers if we get overwhelmed. Wynne can assist with magic." Without pulling away, her eyes shifted to her hound. "Bjorn can help with tracking..."

They received a single, joyous bark in response. The hound hopped off the bed, claws clicking over the stone floor as he went to them. He sat beside them and she petted him, scratching behind his ear.

"Would Wynne be able to handle it...? We don't know for how long we'll be walking down there."

She withdrew to gaze up at him. "We need a healer in case things go awry… She's the best one we have."

"I guess you're right." A reassuring smile tugged at his lips, as he cupped her cheek once more. "Don't worry… If anyone can lead us through the darkspawn's lair and get us out alive, it would be you."

Everil placed a hand over his, leaning into his touch. "You have that much faith in me..."

"I do…" His voice was gentle, yet confident, amber eyes gazing into hers without a shred of doubt. "You've gotten us through many life and death situations, and all of us are still here. I think that says something."

"Thank you..." Everil murmured as his encouraging words eased the tension on her shoulders.

The pressure upon her was constant. If she were ever to make the wrong call, any of them could die. Besides that, as they dallied through the dwarven kingdom, many on the surface perished, killed by a hurlock's blade, an ogre's bite, or the Blight's taint. The prospect of failing them made it all worse and the weariness after fighting the Carta didn't help.

But it all seemed to stop when he tilted her chin up, his tenderness causing her heart to soar. "Don't worry so much, my love… "

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. Just have faith in us."

She smiled a little. "All right…"

"Does this still hurt?" Alistair ran a careful thumb over the fading cut on her lip.

She licked the injury, feeling no pain, while also staring into his amber pools. "No... It no longer bothers me."

"So I can do this…?" Slow and gentle, he pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss.

Warmth rose to her cheeks and she purred for him, "You can do anything you like, my knight..."

"Anything I like, huh…?" he whispered huskily, her words stirring something in him as he took firm hold of her hips. "I would take you up on that offer... right now… but—"

A whine reached their ears, drawing their attention to their hound. The curious Bjorn stared up at them, tilting his head.

"—we have an audience."

"Right…" Everil swallowed, reluctantly leaving his arms. She bent over to the dog's level. "I apologize, boy… Can you stay in the hallway for a while?"

He whimpered, his tongue darting out to lick her cheek.

She chuckled. "It'll be all right."

Everil led him outside before Bjorn stepped out and faced her. "Be a good boy."

And the door shut, leaving him out in the hallway. The hound yawned, paced in a tight circle and lied down with a huff. He grumbled, eyeing his surroundings. The hallway was empty, with only dwarven decorations lining the walls. It was silent all around, but he could hear far away music coming from the tavern near the inn. Bjorn huffed again. He may as well guard the bedroom. Just in case.

Warning: Strong adult content ahead ;)

"Will he be all right out there?" Alistair inquired as she sauntered back to him.

"Yes…" She gripped the sides of his shirt, speaking in a seductive tone against his chin. "If anything, he will keep others from interrupting…"

"Ah, very true…" he murmured, then brushed his mouth over hers before kissing her. The kiss carried an edge of desire. Pleasant, yet warm as a summer's eve. He nuzzled her nose, his voice low and alluring. "That means… I have you all to myself now…"

"Yes… I'm all yours..."

"Hmm... I like the sound of that…" His hand went to the small of her back and pulled her to him. Their lips connected, only to part, and then connect again. Delicate hands crawled up his chest, over his solid muscles as her arms went over his shoulders and around his neck. He parted her petals, their breaths intertwining until he Deep Roadsened the kiss with a soft moan.

Everil sighed as their tongues danced in a slow, loving embrace, exploring each other as sure as long-time lovers. Soon, she became lost in the taste of him, taking in the lingering hint of whiskey. Letting out a quiet moan, she suckled on his lips, enjoying the sweet, smoky taste as if intoxicated by him.

"Oh… darling…" she whimpered as her temperature climbed, her heartbeat like a drum on a battlefield. He hummed and nibbled on her succulent petals, the way she pleaded to him urging him on. A fog seemed to crawl its way into his mind, clouding all thought and reason and leaving only the fervent desire that possessed his being. His hands obeyed that primal urge, descending to her rear, and he fondled her glutes, tight and rough as she groaned into his mouth.

Blinded by lust, their kiss grew hungrier, demanding, as they lost themselves in one another. Everil whined, her sex growing warm and moist. Eager for him. While his erection pressed against her abdomen, ready to stake its claim in her as it had before.

Alistair trailed down from her lips to her jaw, and down her throat as he breathlessly tasted her skin. His tongue stroked her pulse, his teeth grazed her flesh, and she quivered in his arms. One of his hands crept up to squeeze her breast, and he kneaded and massaged, fueling the ache between her legs. His kisses then came back up, seeking her panting mouth. Then, feeling her stiff nipple through her clothes, he pinched, earning a muffled cry as the electrifying jolt he caused shot straight to her core.

Mewling weakly, Everil broke away from the hungry kiss, straying to his neck. One of her hands ventured south to his prominent bulge, and Alistair drew in a breath when her palm rubbed over his erection. Up and down. Firm, slow and mind-numbing. The pressure was nearly too much to handle. Almost painful.

"Everil…" he groaned into her hair, still fondling her perked up mound while throbbing into her hand. And Everil bit her lip upon hearing him and feeling his girth react to her ministrations. She yearned for him to say her name again, and again. To pleasure him into oblivion as he had her so many times before.

"I've changed my mind… I will do whatever I want with you tonight..." she breathed over his pulse.

"Hm…" He shuddered at her words. "Is that so…?"

"Yes…" Her mouth sought his again, nibbling and suckling as she led him to the bed. She withdrew, then made him flop onto the edge of the mattress. Everil first pulled his shirt off, discarding it. Then she bent over, working on ridding him of the other obstacles in her way.

Alistair watched her work through half-lidded eyes, his heart racing in his ears. He let her remove his boots next, seeing her toss them to one side. Then her lithe fingers sought the cord on his trousers. And he gulped as she yanked it loose before reaching for the waistline. "I want these off…" she instructed.

He licked his lips and complied, lifting his hips as she pulled down both trousers and breeches, finally freeing him from that cursed prison. Everil went to her knees between his legs with an inward smile, seeing the curiosity in his eyes. Then she admired his member, mesmerized by its size as it pulsed expectantly for her. Alistair swallowed thick again, sitting bare for her, watching her stare at his hardened manhood with a hunger he hadn't yet seen on her.

Pulse pounding, Alistair looked as gentle fingers gripped him. Then he sucked in a breath when her warm mouth enveloped him. "Maker…!" he gasped as a jolt of electricity shot through him, eyes glued to her as she deliberately took in more of him. Until all he could feel was moisture and heat.

No one had ever touched him this way.

Everil closed her eyes and moved her head up, her tongue dragging along his shaft and pressing against the tip as he throbbed between those rosy petals. And her head moved down once more, then up again, soaking him in spit as she gripped him, soft and tight, and wet. And oh, so erotic.

A smacking sound came as she pulled him out, stared up with a glazed-over gaze and licked her way up, tasting him from base to top as he released a drawn-out moan. She repeated the crude action, playing him as if he were but a musical instrument. Then Everil closed her eyes again and brought him into her mouth once more, halted mid-way, and went back up while pumping him with one hand.

"Oh, that feels so good…!" he groaned Deep Roadsly as the sensations intensified, fueled by the suckling noises. Panting heavily, he gripped the sheets and placed a shaking hand on her bobbing head. Everything was a blur. He couldn't think. Couldn't reason while watching her and feeling her savor him as if he were the best tasting morsel she'd ever had.

Unsteady fingers stroked her hair as she continued pleasing him, breathing through her nose. His moans and throaty groans made her own parts long for him. Pulsing between her legs as her essence dripped down her inner thigh.

She needed him now. All of him.

Everil withdrew and licked excess moisture from her lips before rising to her feet. "Do you want me...?" she purred as she pulled up her gown and climbed onto his lap.

His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh. "Oh, yes… More than anything..."

Pleased with his response, she claimed his mouth with hers as he released a thick, heavy breath out the nose. Alistair fell back onto the mattress with her, adjusting them over the bed as they devoured each other. Then she broke away from their heated kiss, leaning up with hands over his chest.

Her lustful eyes locked with his and they moaned as she lowered her sex upon him, tight, yet slick. Wet noises followed as she rode his length, enjoying the tingling spreading within her. With a Deep Roads moan, she took off her nightgown and tossed it to the floor, not once stopping the rising and falling of her pelvis while exposing herself to him.

His hands came to rest on her thighs and he groaned as she slid up and down, grinding against him in every fall. His gaze traveled over her, admiring her sensual curves as he reached up to cup her ample breasts. Everil moaned and arched her back, leaning into his touch while keeping her agonizing pace. Alistair's coarse hands fondled her bosom as if they were his playground. Massaging her soft mounds and kneading them together. Squeezing them while watching her ride him with unveiled hunger.

He pinched her nipples, drawing a gasp out of her. The pleasurable pain made her crave more as if starved. She wanted satisfaction. To listen to his pleasure and satiate their needs. So she bit her lip and leaned upright, throwing her head back with a loud whine as she picked up speed. Slapping sounds filled the room as her hips bounced against his, his hard member penetrating her Deep Roadser, faster, tapping against the sensitive wall within her as she squealed.

"Maker's breath…!" he bit out as sharp bolts shot down his shaft, his hands sliding down her torso and to her hips. Ardently, he admired her bouncing breasts, seeing droplets of sweat over her skin that shimmered with the colorful lights of their dwarven lamps. And the way she looked above him... like an embattled goddess riding her noble steed... it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. The view heightened the electrifying feeling in their joined parts and his moans grew louder, riddled with yearning as each stroke of her hot folds built up the pressure near the breaking point. "Oh, keep going…" he urged her further. "Keep going…!"

"Ah, yes…!" Everil clenched around him and moved faster, bringing her wet sex upon him as his words stoked the flame.

He groaned loudly at the tight friction, his chest heaving as he thrust, meeting her as she came down. Alistair followed her rhythm—up and down, up and down—in a steady, yet wild tempo.

"Yes!" she squealed as he roughly hit her core. All she could hear, smell, and feel was him. The clapping of their bodies. The scent of their lovemaking. The way he rammed against her depths as each pump unleashed currents of raw pleasure that threatened to push her over the edge.

Everil tensed, struggling against the relentless assault. A few more... just a few more. And she was screaming as she fell over the drop, plummeting into raging waters, her constricting walls bringing him along with her. A loud groan left him as he filled her, the warm sensation spreading through her throbbing insides. She shook and shuddered over him, forced to rest her hands on his chest as the waves crashed through her quivering body.

She gasped as she continued to move her hips, the intense feeling ebbing away each time he slid in and out of her soaked depth, slowing to a stop. Panting from exhaustion, she shakily lay over him, resting her head upon his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.

"By the Maker…" Alistair spoke, huffing, yet with a broad smile. "I think I should let you... do whatever you want with me more often…"

Everil chuckled hoarsely.

Slow, intimate seconds ticked by as they tried to regain their breath, listening to each other's wild hearts and enjoying the closeness of their bodies. The gentle blue, pink, and yellow glow of the surrounding crystals added to the calm.

"Alistair…" Everil eventually called.

"Hm…?" He nuzzled her head, fingers combing through her hair as his heavy breathing blew on a few strands.

She sighed, his tender touch soothing her still raging pulse. "What will we do… after all this is over?"

"Hmm… good question…" he whispered tiredly. "There will always be darkspawn to fight… but with the rest of the order gone…"

"We can rebuild it..."

"Yes… I guess you're right… We could make new Grey Wardens." He smiled lightly, then caressed her smooth back. "Then maybe… Maybe while we do that, we could travel through Ferelden together… Just the two of us."

"Hmm… That sounds good to me…" She nuzzled his shoulder as he continued to caress her flushed skin. His feather-like touch comforted her, her prior worries vanishing into nothingness.

His words gave her something more to look forward to, and another motivating reason to ensure they'd both survive. Everil couldn't imagine not having him with her after the end. She wanted to be by his side for as long as possible, to spend her last days with him until the taint claims her. Having lost her family meant she could no longer have her old life back. But at least she could still build a new one with him by her side.