A/N: Little mature this chapter, consider yourselves warned.
Chapter 38: Back in Orzammar
He was no leader.
Alistair had always known that, from the day he had been sent into the chantry, and forgotten by Arl Eamon. He would never ever be…a leader.
Why else would his father, King Maric, have abandoned him all those years ago, why else would his father not want him?
He was a bastard; he had accepted that, a threat to Cailan's rule, of course his father could not have him staying at the palace.
But would it have been so hard not to see him? Alistair had never wanted much, just a simple acknowledgement by his father that he was alive.
That had never come to pass.
He sat with the rest of their party, the ones that Alim had left behind. Almost a month had passed and still no news.
He could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing.
He had been sending Zevran and Gus up to the surface every now and then to gather information, to find out what was going on in the rest of Thedas. Traders still braved the pass and came to Orzammar's gates, even though they still remained shut.
The dwarves had started sending emissaries to the surface, buying goods. The traders did not like working in the snow, but at least some money was flowing again. Templars had come to take their lyrium supply for the winter as well; they would likely not be able to use the path again until spring.
It was from them that Alistair heard what was going on.
How he learned about the extent of the civil war.
Loghain had declared himself Regent of Ferelden, the bannorn were not happy about that. Some questioned Loghain's explanation for the defeat at Ostagar.
The wardens had tricked King Cailan, he had told the nobles drew him onto the field and let him fall to the darkspawn, but they had underestimated the darkspawn's numbers and had fallen as well.
According to Loghain, this was all a ploy by Empress Celene and the Orlesians that Ferelden was in fact not facing Blight, and that Ferelden needed to close up its borders against foreign invasion.
Some of the Banns had resisted Loghain's claim, Bann Bronnic, a few others, Loghain had spent much of the late fall quelling these 'traitors.'
He was not being gentle in his quelling of the nobles; word was that he had seized several of the fallen Bann's lands, gifting them to their neighbors if they supported him.
Alistair felt his temper flare; Loghain had much to answer for, and more all the time.
Meanwhile the darkspawn continued to advance. Loghain's men had taken up position in the south, driving their enemies into the advance of the horde.
More death, more destruction, so much had been lost already, if the civil war continued in the spring, there would be no one left to resist the Archdemon when it led its forces in the north.
He could not allow that to happen. The wardens could not allow that to happen!
He prayed for Alim's success, they needed the dwarves' aid. Alistair did not want to think they had made this trip for nothing.
So, with Gus's help, he began drawing up plans for approaching the circle, trying to come up with a good argument to convince the mages to aid them. Hopefully either Harrowmont or Bhelen would sort out this Kingship thing before the winter ended, provided that Alim did not return of course.
No, he would return, I just have to have faith, Alistair thought.
But he still made plans for if the elf did not return, that is what Alim would have done, what Duncan would have done, not that Alistair had much hope. He was, after all…
…no leader.
IOI
Morrigan watched the three going over their plans with a clinical eye.
If Alim did not return it would fall to them to stop the Blight.
And up to her to complete mother's plan, but that had always been the case, had it not?
She did not smirk, but came very close. Gus was doing his best to keep Alistair on track. The assassin casually flipped a dagger in one hand as he voiced his opinion, and several very lude innuendos.
The witch shook her head, all of this was pointless, if Alim did not return then they would head to the Circle of Magi on Lake Calenhad, what was there to discuss?
She had no desire to set foot in that hive of oppression, and entire tower full of mage cattle, and fools like Alistair.
She snorted at the very thought. Her eyes fell on Alistair, the man was a fool, but as she watched him, her bearing softened slightly, her eyes less cold.
She should not feel this way; he was a Templar fool…
Although…
…in her weaker moments, she had to admit that Alistair had done far better than she would have expected.
He continued to watch the dwarves, while at the same time, with Gus's help laying the ground work for a new plan. Zevran was trusted to watch for any sign of treachery from either of their two noble patrons. He felt that if one of them got desperate, and did something drastic to claim the throne they might be able to capitalize on it.
Alistair may not have agreed with the elf's thinking, but agreed with his plan.
She was…surprised.
What Alistair did not understand himself, he delegated to the others that did. It showed a wisdom far greater than anything she had given him credit for.
He could lead, if he needed to, and without Alim around he did not default to playing the fool.
There was actually a spine of iron beneath that chantry foolishness.
She felt warmth in the pit of her belly; a hungry look came to her eyes.
Perhaps…perhaps it was time to move dear mother's plan forward?
She would endeavor to do so…tonight.
IOI
It was late by the time Alistair managed to retire to his room. Gus and Zevran had kept him busy much of the day. They had good ideas how best to continue on with their journey, but Alistair was still not ready to give the others up for dead just yet.
He had promised Alim two months, and that is what he would give him, not that leaving would be easy, a blizzard had struck the mountain path tonight, a bad one, sealing it to all traffic. The dwarves had permitted the traders a place to rest within the Hall of Heroes, but they were allowed to go no farther than that.
At least there was some kindness in Orzammar.
Alistair had come to seriously hate this place. The sneering nobles, the backstabbing politics, and the heat, Maker save them, the heat down here was unbearable.
It was even worse when he tried to sleep.
Maybe he was just too used the cold of Ferelden. He had grown up in a stable before being sent to the abbey after all. Cold had just been something he had learned to live with.
He sighed heavily, he would be glad when Alim returned and they would all get out of this place.
He stripped down to his smalls and fell into bed; he had no need for blankets with the lava derived heat here in Orzammar. The room was dark save for the glow crystal set beside the bed; the light blue glow gave the room at least the feeling of night.
He felt his eyes grow heavy; he slowly drifted off to sleep.
He began to dream.
…To dream…of her.
He felt her fingers lightly brush against his chest, so soft yet filling him with a fire that he could not believe, hotter even that the lava of Orzammar. He stared up at the figure before him, the pale skin, the long, lustrous raven hair, and the eyes the color of molten gold.
She reached up and stroked his face, causing him to sigh in pleasure.
He both loved and hated these dreams; they made him feel like a hypocrite. He had lied to Lim and Zev that night in the larder, the night that Morrigan had sauntered in, wearing almost nothing, but still…wearing too much.
She hated him, he knew that, but at the same time…he could not help but feel curious.
They had fought together, saved each other's lives multiple times. How could one not feel at least some affection for a person under such circumstances?
Their time together was affecting him, making him have thoughts that he knew he should not.
What if she had not hated him? What if she had been raised by someone other than her mother?
What would she have been like if she had been born into his world?
Would she have cared for him?
Would she have felt anything at all?
He had no way of knowing.
The dream continued.
He reached up to touch her face; she sighed, and playfully licked his fingers as they drew too close to her mouth.
He groaned, his body responding, his desire awakening to the dream.
Morrigan smiled at him.
"Alistair," she purred, "Awaken."
He opened his eyes.
He startled!
Morrigan was in bed with him. She lay on her side, her long black hair was down, and it fell to the small of her back, her pale skin the color of the afternoon sky in the light of the glow crystals. Those amber eyes of her watched him, they looked so warm and inviting…
She was also…quite nude.
He swallowed hard, part of him…oh Maker…part of him had wondered what she would look like in such a state.
That part was very happy right now.
She was laying so close to him. His arm felt her soft warm skin.
He gulped.
"I'm not dreaming this, am I?" he asked nervously.
She smiled.
"Would it be easier if I said yes," she replied.
He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.
She gently pushed him back down.
"Do not go," she whispered, her eyes nervous, "Please."
His heart was pounding, he was breathing hard, what in Andraste's name was the witch doing, was this some kind of cruel joke?
He tried to calm down, not an easy thing with a naked witch in his bed, an evil, mean, beautiful, very naked witch.
This was something that the chantry had not prepared him for.
That Duncan had not prepared him for!
Sweet Andraste!
Her fingers traced lazy lines on his chest; he barely contained the desire to shudder.
"What are you doing?" he croaked, his voice cracked despite his best intention.
"I'm not sure really," she confessed, "We are…not friends Alistair. Tis no secret that we have not been since the day we met."
He wanted to say 'no kidding' but her finger brushed against his stomach making him groan slightly.
This was a bad idea, a bad, bad, bad, BAD idea!
But it also felt really good, and she looked fantastic…
That was the problem.
She gave him a sly wink.
"But we do not have to be friends," she informed him, her voice husky, "Tis not important, not for this, not to seek a little comfort, pleasure… and release. Would you like some release Alistair?"
His body and his mind were at war. He knew what she was, but the physical side of him did not care.
He felt a kind of hunger he was unfamiliar with, the desire for a fierce and beautiful woman.
"If…if this is some kind of joke," he said quietly, "it is in very poor taste."
"Humor is your shield, not mine," she grinned, "I prefer…more…physical pursuits."
He found himself growing curious about what those pursuits might be.
He raised his hand, she leaned into his touch his brushed her cheek; she took it in hers and lead it down her neck, down to the front of her chest, letting it rest over her heart.
"Oh Maker," he croaked.
He could feel it beating; he never thought she had one!
Morrigan almost laughed.
She was enjoying this; the fool was hers to do with what she will.
Now, she thought, to seal the deal.
"How long has it been Alistair?" she asked.
"Um…uh…how…how long?" he squeaked.
"Since you were last with a woman," she smirked, "How long?"
He was blushing now, he…he did not wish to say…he wanted to tell her it was none of her business.
He looked down shyly, trying not to think about what his hand was resting on.
She blinked. She knew the answer, though he had said nothing to her.
"Never?" she whispered.
He gave her a sheepish grin.
"I…I was raised by the chantry remember, that was…was not the place for rambunctious boys. They…they taught us to behave like gentlemen."
That lazy smile returned to her face.
"I prefer you behave like a man."
She took his other hand in hers, bringing it to her lips, she kissed his fingers lightly.
"Maker's breath." He gasped.
She glanced down his body; it knew what it wanted more than his brain at this point.
She was pleased with herself.
He was hers!
"This…is not a problem, it is…an opportunity. Would you like me to teach you Alistair," she asked, "To show you…how…to bring pleasure and find your own?"
He could not speak; he was sweating now, only a low groan escaped his lips.
"Nothing serious," she promised, "I offer you experience, and simple comfort, nothing more."
He swallowed hard again, this was ridiculous, and he knew he should send her away, his rational mind knew that…
But it wasn't running the show right now.
He felt himself nodding.
"Perfect," the witch purred.
Perfect, he thought, was there anymore perfect a word than that?
He did not think so.
She leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the lips, it was the gentlest of touches, chaste…but extremely exciting.
Alistair returned it, first one then another.
She kissed him deeper then; letting her tongue lightly touch his lips, when he opened his mouth she closed hers over his.
They both growled with desire.
All conscious thought faded, lost in the flames of lust and desire. She helped him out of his smalls, and he rolled her over pinning her on the bed.
They stared into each other's eyes, both desiring what was to come.
He wrapped her in his arms, their mouths met hungrily.
They…began.
The next two hours she guided him, teaching him about what she desired and exploring what he desired, a time of testing and teasing. It was…an experience he had never expected, that he had always feared that would likely never come.
Somewhere along their exploration, they found their rhythm, one that was theirs and theirs alone. Morrigan moaned softly as Alistair sated her desire, her curiosity.
All thought of Mother and the plan fled her mind, for now, for this one moment…there was only one thing that mattered, that mattered in the entire world.
The witch gasped with delight.
"Alistair," she whimpered.
Pleasure!