Beneath the Silver Moon, Part II
Hadrian woke to the soft crackling of a fire, the heat warming his left side. Someone had managed to bandage his head as well as place him unto a soft bed made out of leaves and torn clothes. However, his rescuer was nowhere to be found. Only his sword and shield, found propped against the trunk of one of the Sylvan trees, gave any indication that it was Alistair who had taken care of him. The forest around him seemed to have come even more livelier in the cool darkness of night. The moon stood sentinel in the starry sky, accompanied only by unfamiliar constellations that shone with a celestial brilliance. Oh no! The full moon!
He jolted out of bed but the swiftness of his movement caused bolts of pain to lance throughout his head. He hissed out a curse, clutching at the side of his head tightly, wishing that the pain would just go away. So lost in his own agony, the silver-haired warrior failed to notice that something hovered around the edges of the campfire. Leaves rustled gently in the slight breeze that drifted into the campfire and Hadrian's head jerked up, smelling the intruder.
The instinct of self-preservation ruthlessly pushed aside any pain and Hadrian fought to stand up. Thank the Maker his rescuer left his undergarment on but saving his dignity was the least of the man's worry. He sought for his sword, which was found lying on the space next to his cot, and drew it upwards and in front of him in a defensive stance. The world was etched in a slight fog, no doubt a symptom of his lingering concussion, but he had no problems in seeing the intruder come into light.
Tall and heavily muscled, the intruder walked into the camp alone, a bloodied machete held in the right hand. Hadrian realized, with a shock, that the intruder was a human but so large in stature and built. He was almost a giant, towering well over six feet. Grimly accepting the fact that the odds of surviving a fight with this one was quite low, Hadrian clutched at his family's longsword, the blade eerily giving off a faint blue glow in the silver moonlight.
The stranger, masked and lightly armored, slowly began to approach him, the movements catlike and so quiet that Hadrian knew why he hadn't heard him earlier. A soft growl could be heard and two more forms appeared out of the blackness. Hadrian cursed again and he tensed as the three figures moved irrevocably towards him, the intention to corner and kill him all too clear in the way they held weapons close by.
Hadrian, not wanting to be cornered like a helpless animal, struck first at the smallest intruder and as he plunged the sword deep into his opponent's gut, he swept his feet and managed to pull the sword out from the dead man only to thrust it deep into second intruder's throat. Thick blood spurted out from beneath the black mask and coated the ground as well as splattering across Hadrian's stomach.
There was a sharp cry of anger from behind him and before Hadrian could quickly pull out his sword from the other dead assailant, he was tackled from behind. The sudden weight forced him to the ground and, knowing the sudden vulnerable position he was in, Hadrian rolled over his right shoulder to avoid getting into a choke hold. Unfortunately, the movement turned his world upside down and he grew woozy for a few seconds, which gave his opponent enough time to push him unto his back and straddle his hips. A hand clutched at his throat and Hadrian gasped, trying to draw in as much air as he could before the hand predictably tightened around his neck. His hands scrabbled feebly at the man's mask and he managed to push the mask off, revealing a hideous visage of blackened flesh with empty sockets and no mouth.
The world around the monstrous face began to darken and Hadrian choked around the grip, his movement to push the assailant off of him weakening. The beating of his heart thrummed loudly in his ear, getting louder and louder until suddenly it stopped. For a moment, Hadrian had thought he died and his spirit was just merely getting used to that fact when he realized two things: the stranger was gone and sounds of agonized screams ripped through the air.
Hadrian coughed and gasped, his body inhaling the much needed air. He rolled unto his side, weakly trying to assemble his scattered thoughts when the screams halted and footsteps padded quietly towards him. Fearing that the intruder had come back to finish the job, Hadrian scrambled into a kneeling position and faced his attacker with all the strength that he could muster, which wasn't much considering he was still trying to convince himself he was alive in the first place.
There, standing before him, was the missing rescuer but he had changed so much. The other man had grown considerably within the last few hours, in both stature and physique. Blonde hair had stood out in wet spikes, either from the sweat of his previous killings or perhaps blood. Despite the moon being bright and full on this eve, Hadrian had a difficult time in seeing the stranger properly. Of course, his concussion could skew his perspective anyways, even if the sun had been out and not the moon. As it was, the Cousland couldn't believe what he was seeing: half-man, half wolf. It was as if the other man's transformation had halted but this form made his rescuer even more intimidating than the strangers.
Fierce dark eyes gazed at him and, like the strangers before, approached him. Hadrian, knowing that he couldn't possibly hold his own against the changed man, listened to his instincts and did what anything else could do when faced with a predator. He simply ran.
As he turned and fled deeper into the forest, his inner wolf growled at him, asking why he had turned away from a place of safety only to traverse into the dangerous unknown. Hadrian wasn't thinking straight, no thanks to yesterday's ordeal and now having been attacked by three masked men. Thus, instead of his movements being swift and graceful in the wilderness, he stumbled, fell down a few times, before finally finding refuge against a large oak tree. Exhausted and hurting, he panted and leaned his body against the tree. His headaches had increased largely due to the restlessness of the wolf inside him but human self-preservation won over his wolf's instincts, until the other man had suddenly appeared out of the blackness of the forest.
Although his pursuer's movements were silent, Hadrian should have been able to smell him but the silver-haired man wasn't in his right mind. Fear had overridden his senses and, although he wanted to run away from the approaching man, he couldn't move.
With wide, frightened eyes, Hadrian watched at how his pursuer carried himself, with confidence and control of the situation. His heart raced as the man leaned over him, the moonlight glinting off sharp canines that certainly weren't there before. His rescuer straddled his hips in such a way that Hadrian couldn't easily throw him off and the silver-haired man shivered at how the other one nuzzled his ear before traveling down to the joint of his neck and shoulders. Out of instinct, Hadrian half-growled and half-whimpered when the soft pair of lips moved too close to his neck.
The taller man emitted a deep growl in response, not to scare off his captive but to soothe his nerves and calm him. It worked and Hadrian became limp, trembling as a warm tongue laved the bruised sides. A soft, low moan unwittingly escaped his throat and the licking continued, the damp areas tingling after being laved with attention. In his fight for survival, Hadrian had forgotten that he was naked except for a small loin clothe that barely covered his privates. Clawed hands stroking down the sides of his flank reminded him of his near nakedness and Hadrian would have shouted out from indignation. As it was now, he was too content and he whispered his pursuer's name as razor-sharp teeth edged the skin of his throat, a promise of what's to come later.
"Alistair..."
His rescuer stopped licking his neck only to draw back and gaze at him. His lover, blonde hair almost glowing ethereally underneath the moonlight, truly looked all the Alpha that he was destined to be. Dark eyes gazed lovingly down at him and a small smile grew on the proud visage. Alistair placed his full weight on Hadrian's body and kissed him with all the ferocity of a male Alpha, all the love he had for this trembling man, who was too glad to be swept away by the fierceness of his rescuer.
"I would have you now," Alistair growled softly against his lips, hips rolling seductively against his own, "but you're injured and would not fully appreciate what I have in store for you."
Hadrian shivered at the heated promise and his inner wolf howled in exaltation at how he bared his neck in a clear sign of submission. His action earned him a pleased sound of approval and a light nip at his jaw that caused his arousal to spike. His erection strained against the cloth that held it captive and Hadrian moaned when Alistair pushed against him, the man's own hardness pressing against his own.
He really wanted to continue this with the other man but the low rumbling sound emanating from Alistair seduced him to a state to lethargy. Suddenly, the adrenaline that allowed his wounded body to even fight and flee diminished until all that was left in Hadrian was this unusual fatigue. Despite his concern at how quickly his body tired, the presence of his Alpha comforted him and he sighed out Alistair's name, his nose nuzzling against the man's warm throat. Hearing and feeling his Alpha, Hadrian slipped into slumber.
-o0o-
"Where are the rest of your companions?" One of the elven archers asked of the two women who had just returned from their rather interesting encounter with the werewolves. Wynne gifted them a gentle smile, one that could easily disengage the other's hostile manner.
"They are still in the forest and will return when needed."
The elf just frowned at her vague reply but said nothing else to the pair. Apparently, no matter what Wynne would have said, her words would be taken at face value anyways. Wynne suspected that the isolation of such a race, who had been mistreated so violently in the past, would lead to mistrust and even unwarranted hostility to those of the present and perhaps of future generations. Leliana still frequently looked back at where they had come from, her emerald eyes full of concern and worry for the two friends she had to leave behind.
Upon arriving at their makeshift camp, everyone had noticed that something was amiss and the Qunari grumbled his discontent at being left behind when he could have clearly prevented their leader's disappearance. The tall ashen-skinned giant strolled in large, easy strides towards the elderly mage and they both looked at each other, as if trying to gauge the other's thoughts and will.
Whatever answers Sten had been looking for, he appeared to have found them when all he did was clench his jaw tightly before walking away in a sullen silence. Leliana thought it strange at how easily the two communicated, despite the large gulf of cultural differences. However, it was irrelevant to the somewhat desperate situation of their leader and Alistair.
Even Zevran's brow became furrowed and the usually talkative elf had stayed quiet all throughout Wynne's explanation. The assassin's eyes darkened with worry towards the end of Wynne's retelling of the events that transpired recently and he thanked her for not having stopped Alistair.
"Trust me," Zevran explained to his confused friends as he tended to a pot of hot rabbit soup. "It is for the best that we not interfere with them."
"So you do know what's going on," Leliana said, trying not to sound like she was accusing Zevran of being a liar. "Did Fergus tell you? You were with him for quite some time, no?"
The lilt was back and stronger than ever when the redhead was frustrated or angry. Zevran actually smiled at her, not at all bothered by the accusatory looks the rest of the party threw at him. Despite having traveled with them for at a month or so, the others still held him suspiciously. Of course the elf did not blame them. He did after all attempted to kill half of the party at one point in time.
"In a way, yes. It would of course happen in under entirely different circumstances. Perhaps the werewolves are more of a danger than we think and that Alistair has shown his true colours."
"Do you mean that dimwit can actually fight against those hideous creatures by himself?" Morrigan's disbelief was reflected by her caustic tone. The witch had been studying Flemeth's grimoire before the group arrived and the only reason she stopped was the mere mention of Alistair trying to be the hero. "If he is to fight, then he would need more than just mere brawn to contest with the denizens of this forest. There is great power here that none of you can possibly withstand."
"And what do you know of this power Morrigan?" Leliana snapped back for the redhead's patience with Morrigan's power-hungry attitude had grown terribly thin in the past week.
If looks could kill, which in Morrigan's case they certainly can, then Leliana would have vaporized instantly. However, Morrigan just shook her head and continued, "I am not just a witch, girl, but a Witch of the Wilds."
"Which means?"
"Which means that I am more in touch with Nature than any of you, even you Wynne. An unnatural spell is cast here and all are suffering unnecessarily so. The spell would be strongest at any focal point or tears in the Veil."
"That storyteller mentioned of a great battle that was fought here centuries ago." Wynne suggested to support Morrigan's explanation.
The dark-haired witch nodded in agreement. "Yes. However, there are tales of a great ruin here in these lands. It was used as a potent magical source to all those inherited and embraced their true potential."
"So perhaps Hadrian and Alistair have gone there then?"
"Perhaps. But beware, that traps and curses keep out even the most prepared travelers." Morrigan warned but it fell on deaf ears when the others clearly started to pack for their rescue. Even Sten had put on his heavy armor with his greatsword strapped to that broad back of his.
Zevran was perhaps the only one still not moving at all but it wasn't because of his unwillingness to enter the unknown. No, it wasn't that at all. When Leliana had almost accused him of deliberately holding back vital information that could have prevented this from happening, the redhead had no idea of the consequences if Alistair was told about this before the incident.
"The Couslands have never had magic in our line but we have something far greater than what all the mages could possibly dream of. I can't tell you what it is yet but when the next full moon rises, let whatever happens between my brother and his friend run its course."
"Oh, a wild chase in the woods perhaps? I have some suggestions for that." Zevran quipped lightly but Fergus growled at him and a strong hand wrapped around his neck only to pull him forward. Whatever smartass comment he was about to say next was immediately lost on him at the sensation of a hard mouth crushing his own lips. The kiss wasn't gentle. It was forceful and demanded that the elf submitted to its owner's will. The sudden change of dynamics in their budding relationship frightened Zevran for he was used to being the chaser, to pursuing his prey with wiles and wit. He tried to let out an angry expletive but it became a strangled moan instead when scorching heat invaded his senses.
Before he got lost in the whirlpool of lust and confusion, the hand suddenly let him go only to grasp at the pointed chin in a firm grip. Intense brown eyes gazed at him knowingly, as if Fergus knew that Zevran hadn't even tried to resist his advances.
"It seems the hunter has become the hunted and you will thoroughly enjoy your submission to me, even if you don't it know yet."
"Zevran!"
The shout broke his reverie but he was glad of the interruption. The rescue mission would give him something else to focus on and he would definitely need to have a good talk with Hadrian after all is said and done. The trick, however, would be to do it in private, without Alistair watching over them like a hawk. Or a wolf.