Disclaimer: We do not own Dragon Age or Elder Scrolls Series
Co-Author and Beta: Etheral-23
Warning: Graphic sexual content in this chapter. Like, soon as it starts.
The night before Orzammar
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Celebrating after victories was easily becoming one of Brianna's favorite activities. The intense emotions after the brush with death and the blood-pumping rush of the battlefield bubbled to the surface and boiled in a sea of thrill and excitement at the mix of relish from victory and the joy of living to see another day.
They had celebrated in Redcliffe, into the arms of a grateful town. But even their joy was marred by a profound sense of grief at the losses they felt. Brianna had drank with a barmaid, a pretty little thing who welcomed her in her bed and was merely overjoyed at being alive. Redcliffe had celebrated, but the pain would remain for some time.
In Edgehall, the circumstances were different. The only people who fell were the soldiers and warriors who fought against the Darkspawn, and even then, their losses had been abyssal. The sheer number of allies who had gathered to fight against the Blight, the Orlesian mercenaries, the local bannaron's militias, and the dalish archers, not to mention the sheer firepower brought by two dragons, had annihilated the war party.
In the face of such overwhelming victory, their home liberated from a tyrant, their orlesian occupiers leaving, and saved from certain destruction, the inhabitants celebrated with all their hearts and souls. Truly, she imagined there was no tavern bereft of the merrymaking sounds or a Chantry empty of people praying in gratitude.
Brianna, however, had her celebration in the Arl's chambers. That is Bryton's chambers.
A shuddering breath escaped her lips as her release sent waves of pleasure all through her body. She looked down at her partner and caressed a hand over his bearded cheek. Bryton grabbed her hand and kissed the palm and knuckles, his other hand still grasping at the flesh of her derriere tightly.
She chuckled, leaning down to kiss him passionately. His hand then grabbed a fistful of her hair to deepen the kiss, and she let out a muffled moan into his mouth. Finally pausing for air, their bodies spent, she reluctantly separated from him and fell back unto the other side of the large bed with a few panting breaths, her naked chest heaving and sweating, the crips cold air from the outside pushed back by the warmth of the hearth lit at the end of the bedroom.
Smiling as he panted heavily, Bryton was even more spent than she was, "The stories about Wardens and their stamina... are far from fiction, I see."
A sultry giggle escaped her lips, "I rather think it is my natural talent." The new Arl chortled, garnering a smirk from the nude woman beside him, "Surprised you took me up on my offer. Bedding a mage is rather scandalous."
"I don't see a mage. I see a captivating and courageous woman who helped protect my people from evil. I am merely expressing my gratitude which is deserved for such heroism."
By the gods was this humble man with such charm. Brianna couldn't help but shiver. She purred, biting her lip, feeling his large coarse fingers trailing across the curve of her hip going up. Not the soft hands she would expect from a noble-born. These hands toiled through hard work with no qualms about how dirty they got.
And he was open-minded, unlike most of his fellow blue-bloods. This put him above most people she knew outside her group of companions.
Brianna let out a pleasure-filled moan with Bryton's hand massaging one of her endowed naked breasts. Her puffy nipples grew erect once more.
"Though I am more curious about you, Lady Amell." Their eyes focused on the other.
"Not much to say." She mused with a purr, their lovemaking ceasing momentarily, "I was from the Free Marches. I was taken from my family as a child to Kinloch Hold. Despised the Chantry tearing apart my family. Hated living in the Circle and being constantly watched by Templars. Betrayed and saved along with Neria into the Grey wardens."
Bryton smirked, "'Not much to say' for you recount the events of your life so succinctly ..."
"First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greagoir could tell you stories. I rather not dwell on them."
She moved to sit on the mattress, a snap of her fingers and a wave of her hand called the wine jar and two cups set aside by the nightstand levitating on their own and pouring the red beverage into the glasses, one floated towards the arl who caught in his hand without wariness or hesitation as he positioned himself to drink it. Brianna grabbed hers and took a sip of its contents as the jar returned to the nightstand.
"You do not fondly recall your time in the Circle," He noted.
"'Recreation' like this is not allowed on the Circle. Fewer chances of accidentally making more mages," She snorts. "Instead of, you know, letting us use the contraceptive methods alchemy created so long ago..." It was another way to isolate them more without any proper reason. "So you have to 'sneak away,' men, women. I've tasted the joys other people take for granted right under their constant vigilance because even the base pleasures would not be allowed to us."
"No lovers nor loved ones allowed within your circles."
"No, mages do not marry. They do not form 'official' relationships. Such things are not allowed." She swirled her glass, looking deeply into the contents, "Ahh, my first time was with a good lad; Faelan was his name. Such an awkward time we had, but it did let us learn. Until he was transferred to another Circle. Then I had a girlfriend, Penelope, a cute antivan girl." She sighs fondly at the memories, "I was so fond of her, but then she was transferred too."
"Does that happen often?" Bryton asked after sipping from his glass. "Mages switching Circles?"
"Enough. Though most mages spend their entire lives in the same Circles, some are often sent to Circles with fewer numbers. The Chantry prefers most Circles to stick within a certain number of mages before they believe there are too many of us."
Upon seeing the sour expression on Amell's lips, Bryton spoke, "I shouldn't have pried."
"There is no harm in curiosity, especially with someone you are in bed with." She sipped wine, saying, "In truth, it gets easy to talk about. But I still feel the anger."
"Anger can keep us focused. As long as we control it and not the other way around."
Brianna cocked her brow, "Who taught you that?"
"My father, he was a wise man."
A comfortable silence bloomed between them, admiring the other's nakedness. "So what is your stance on the Circle, my dear Arl?"
"Given my first experience with magic was today's battle, I am conflicted as to why the Maker would create such powers only to be locked away in towers when it can be so useful." He spoke honestly with contemplation, "Granted. I would imagine an untrained mage could pose a danger?"
Brianna grunted, "Magic can be dangerous and must be taken seriously in its responsibility to use it. But forcing people away from their families and being treated like pariahs in a gilded cage is barbaric." It must be the wine tempering her usual anger on the subject. "I won't pretend to lie, saying there aren't wicked people who misuse magic for the wrong reasons. But half of that comes from the constant oppression by Templars and the Chantry."
Bryton watched her, "And becoming a Grey Warden?"
"The reasons for joining were complicated. It is a very harsh and grim life that won't end well. But I've learned life wasn't meant to be easy. So I will be ready for whatever evil comes for my comrades and me. Regardless of the opinion some have of my choices and path."
"Becoming a strong and powerful person shouldn't be viewed as bad."
"Let us just say my closest friend, whom I love with all my heart, has an opinion on gaining power when being a mage." Raising her hand with arcane energy glowing in her palm. "I'll never see magic as a curse. A person must be responsible with magic, of course. But also be free with this blessed power. As long as you are not some evil prick."
Raising out from her hand went the wine glass that went back to the nightstand. Bryton took a sip of his own as it floated away. The beautiful brunette slowly straddled him with lust glowing in her eyes. Bri slowly grinds herself against the Arl, feeling his shaft rise again, rubbing against her womanhood. Without using her hands, she adjusted him, lowered herself, and sheathed his erect organ inside her again.
"I'd say we both recovered for more fun don't you think~" She purred before a shuddering moan escaped her lips as he began thrusting his hips.
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Not everyone celebrated. Theron certainly wasn't. The dark-skinned elf opted out of the tavern's jubilation and cheer, and he wasn't up for those on the best of days. And now, well, today was certainly the worst day of his life.
He merely tugged at the cloak closer to his body, more out of habit than anything, for it was enchanted to resist cold, causing the brisk winter air and snow-caked ground of the alleyway not to bother him. The muffled shouts, singing, and cheers from the tavern made the building rumble slightly. He felt it on his back as he leaned against the wooden wall with his arms crossed.
He brushed a dreadlock behind his air in a gesture similar to what Merrill would do if only to feel the slightest bit of her presence. The thought of coming to see her, needing to hold her close, invaded him. Sarya could get him there in a heartbeat. She gave him the option to do so. To tell them what happened in person.
Theron refused... he couldn't face them right now.
It was a mercy kill, but how do you tell someone you had to kill their kin?
Even now, the memory of his blade piercing through Tamlen haunted him.
How could he bring them the terrible news if he could barely grasp it himself?
Theron chose solitude for the moment, to mourn, but it would not last. His keen ears heard the footsteps on the snow, and he could already tell whom it was without looking. Alistair only knew a few things about stealth. His leather boots rang loudly like he was still wearing plate and mail. Gin had a knack for sneaking around, given his previous activities in Denerim, but an experienced hunter like him could still feel him. It did bear to take into account he wasn't trying to sneak. The last one, though, was more difficult. Zevran was naturally stealthy; making the smallest noise was his second instinct. Theron would humbly admit that he could not detect him when the former Crow chose to.
"Hey," The group's human softly called, and Theron spared him a sidelong glance. "How are you holding up?" They all knew by this point.
Theron bit back a remark; it'd be... untoward from him to lash out in his grief when his companion just wanted to be considerate. "As well as you can expect," He settled on still expressing how bad he felt.
"I can't imagine what you must be going through," Gin muttered sadly. His experiences in the Alienage did not account for losing a friend like that, not to the Blight, and certainly not meeting an end to another friend's blade.
"I'll bear with it," He muttered, his voice hoarse like two icicles scraping against each other.
"You dalish are good at that," Zevran said with surprising respect.
The respect drew the warrior's attention, but he remained silent as he stared at the cloudy, snowing skies. "Any of you have someone you loved like a sibling?" Theron's question drew surprise from the others.
"The Wardens who died at Ostagar was a family of sorts," Alistair muttered, scratching his head. "But nothing as close to you and your friend Tamlen was."
A haunted glow came over the eyes of the former Crow, but he said nothing.
"We had known each other since we were children. My earliest memories outside of Ashalle caring for me were being beside Tamlen and Merrill before we could speak." the tiniest of chuckles escaped his lips, "Falling asleep during Hahren Paivel's lessons, hunting together, making our bows..." His hood-covered head lowered to where he stared back at the ground. Mourning returned to his gaze, "He pestered me about when Merrill and I would finally marry."
None spoke a word as they merely stood beside their comrade. A kindness he would come to appreciate in the days to follow.
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Within the tavern, Instruments played as people reveled in joy and praise from adults to children who danced, sang, and laughed, surviving what could have been the destruction and death of them all. Sofie laughed alongside Leliana and others while observing Sarya performing something nobody sane would call dance moves, with children mimicking her actions joyfully.
Sitting with Oryrn out of his armor and in plain clothes, he and Neria watched the Telvanni mage with the human and elven children. "Your sister really can't dance," The Circle mage's voice cracked in a fit of giggles covering her mouth.
"She never could." The Dunmeri Templar snorted, sipping his mug of ale.
Neria could only smile joyfully at the celebrations, feeling they had made a difference, that she had accomplished something important when she made that deal with Marcel and his mercenaries. It had avoided a confrontation between the orlesians and fereldens, sparing unnecessary bloodshed so they could focus on the Darkspawn and protecting the city.
Who would have thought her little quiet Neria speaking as an equal to mercenaries and convincing them to stop fighting? Not only that, but getting them to cooperate with their former adversaries.
She could hardly believe she had achieved something like that.
Neria looked back on her journey, at what she had gone through, from being paralyzed at the prospect of combat to dutifully following commands and even taking the initiative in battle. She had witnessed first-hand as her friends navigated through dangerous situations with guile and strength and followed their example to overcome these new challenges.
She had changed through this journey, it had been over half a year, but it felt like a lifetime ago since Ostagar.
Neria only wished Brianna hadn't changed so much. She felt she barely knew her friend. Was that wrong of her? Did she see danger everywhere?
She sighed internally. She wasn't going to solve things with Brianna by moping about it. No, was this the time to mope? This was a celebration. They all deserved to enjoy themselves.
Her green eyes shifted to Oryrn, the strong, handsome, and brave man who had mentored her in many ways. Who stood by her side and lent her an ear whenever needed. Neria was not so dense as not to realize she liked him a lot. But she wasn't certain if he would return her feelings.
One step at a time was necessary.
Getting some courage from her drink, she gulped down the contents and let out an explosive breath, looking at Oryrn intently before blurting out. "Doyouwanttodance?!"
She could have phrased it slower and not shouted it. But with the noise around them, her outburst was barely heard. What matters is that Oryrn did hear her, though. He shifted his red-eyed gaze to her, lips slowly parting in surprise as she tried to shrink in her seat.
Her heart beat faster when he smiled at her. "Sure."
Sitting with Bann Lanya, and Parth, Wynne noticed from the corner of her eye that she saw Oryrn and Neria beginning to dance to the music alongside others. Fallon, leaning against the wall with a mug in her hand, smirked, also taking notice. "Those two a pair?" She questioned the Senior Enchanter.
Kail, also at the table, nodded in approval, "They'd make a cute couple."
Wynne never responded with her gaze on the two while they laughed and smiled at each other.
Bran and Loke were lying on the ground near the bar, happily having large meaty bones they chewed at greedily. While receiving occasional head rubs, they took them with joy. A hearty chuckle came from Faren at a table with Sereda, "Those two are so easy to please."
"Just like you," the exiled princess jabbed with no maliciousness in her tone.
"Men are very simple creatures. And require very little to please us, but what does mean the world to us."
The dwarven woman stared at her fellow dwarf, "Are you drunk?"
"Very much so." Faren beamed.
"Of course."
The two settled into silence, with the sounds of jubilation and celebration around them. The battle was over, the last stop on the way to Orzammar... to home.
Could she even call it that anymore?
She was dead to the Stone, nameless and exiled. Any semblance of clan and kin she had was this ragtag crew of companions. And now... she was a Warden, the respected warrior who knew very well the plight of the dwarves and their constant battle with the Darkspawn. It wasn't unheard of for exiles to join the Wardens, but... she still didn't know if she'd be welcomed there.
As he often did, Faren seemed to know what she was thinking. "You gonna be okay, going there?"
"Does it matter?" She muttered, taking a sip from her mug. "We have to go; I... I need to go. See what Bhelen's done."
"Hmm," The dwarven rogue hummed in thought. "And if you don't like what you find? What are you going to do?"
What indeed. Regardless of what Bhelen did to her, if it came down to it, she didn't know if she could hurt her brother.
Sereda finally replied, "Our concerns are with getting Orzammar's helps against the Blight. That's what matters" That was their goal, their duty as Wardens. Her duty. If she had nothing else, she would at least give this back to her friends who gave her a place to belong.
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Galehut dryly stated, "You can try all bloody night, mate. That wall of muscle is not going down."
"I tried," Marcus chuckled beside the veteran soldier, "Of course, I was a little bit drunk then. That arm doesn't move."
"IT TWITCHED!" A muscular man said through his gnashing teeth. His face was red, and sweat beading down his brow.
Opposite him at the table was Sofie, who was currently arm-wrestling the man. The Nord woman had not lost her smile, "Yoooou sure?" She wore one of her shirts, showing off her large muscular arms. On the ground were several other men who had lost against the female warrior. Jumping on the heels of her boots was Leliana, who was clapping in delight at the sight of the large bulging muscles being shown.
One of the men lying on the ground did not even look remotely bothered by his loss. His gaze was only that of wonderment, "What a woman." His voice was a husky growl.
The muscular Ferelden gave it his all, but Sofie decided to end it before he could hurt himself. A swift pull from her arm and he joined the rest of his peers. Most were not even mad, oh there were bruised egos, of course, but Fereldens were still in great part a martial culture, particularly those who lived near the borders and often faced the threats that came from beyond them, avvar raiders, foreign mercenaries, beasts and monsters of all stripes. And so, the sight of a powerful woman like Sofie, tall and imposing, intrigued more than a few Fereldens. This was the sort of situation where interested families would issue marriage proposals.
A lady almost swooned as Sofie flexed her arm in triumph, actually putting more effort into the gesture than in the people she wrestled, as shown by the striating lines and veins gorging under the skin, even rolled back as it was the sleeve audibly struggled. Leliana boldly touched the muscle in praise, "My mighty warrior~" She said seductively as she kissed the nord's lips, actually able to lean down to do so thanks to her sitting. She giggled mirthfully as the arm she was fondling came behind her waist and swept her off her feet, the warrior woman sitting on her lap. Sofie laughed; she hugged the smaller woman tightly, planting a trail of kisses from her cheek to the redhead's lips in an open display of affection.
Miara and Serana watched as two of their children enjoyed themselves with their significant other. It might be premature to call Neria as such, but they knew Oryrn's subtle ways. He was interested in her much like she was in him.
"I'd say our little family will be getting interesting," amusement danced in the Nordic vampire's tone.
Humor glowed in the Dragonborn's eyes, "I wonder how much crazy Neria could handle meeting the rest of the family?"
"I'd pay a thousand septims just to see her face meeting your grandmother."
Oh, that would be interesting now thinking about it. Being scandalized would be far more suitable than being traumatized when encountering Valerica.
...
That visit would be Serana taking Leliana and Neria to see that woman. Otherwise, furniture would be tossed around as much as words. A small hand grabbed the Dunmer's own, making her look down to see Vaea beaming up at her, "Found you!"
Jogging over, Coran gave an apologetic look, "Sorry. She wanted to come to see you."
"Not just me. Them too!"
Vaea pointed behind Coran to see a flock of elves, a few humans, and dwarves looking to speak with Miara. But too timid to convey anything to her. For which said woman blinked at the small crowd before sighing. "One person at a time if you all wish to speak with me, okay?"
At the very least, these people respected her rule as so many Edgehall residents wanted to ask questions and speak to the Dragonborn with awe and wonderment in their eyes. A look Serana had seen numerous folks in Tamriel have when Miara was visiting back home.
She had proved herself a hero, the type these people needed in their hour of need.
"You have magic?!" An eager elven child asked.
"I do, and I'm very good at it."
"Where did you learn to fight like that?" A human asked.
"Here and there in my homeland."
An elven adult spoke up. "Are all elves there like you three?"
"Well, there are different types of elves. We're Dark Elves. We're grey and red-eyed for the most part."
"Can you teach me how to kill monsters?!" An excited little elven girl asked, bouncing on her feet.
Miara chuckled, ruffling her hair. "I think you're a bit young to fight yet."
"But that way, we can keep humans from bullying us!"
The Dragonborn made an awkward sound and looked at the nervous gazes on the humans in this little group. And by the looks on the faces of some of the elves, they too felt similarly as this little girl did. If they were strong and had the means, they could make humans treat them fairly. She didn't know the humans here, if they agreed with how the elves were treated, if they just considered their conditions as things were and nothing else, or if they disagreed and were open to elves living in better conditions. Watching an elf like her slaughtering Darkspawn, protecting everyone here changed a few minds. Real change always took time, and it would all depend on these folks.
"I'm afraid it's more complicated than that," Miara gently said, choosing her words to soothe the girl and not upset the other elves or frighten the humans. "But the new arl seems to be a good man. He'll work to ensure your people are better off than before."
"You promise?" Vaea asked gently. This woman had been their hero. If she said so, then they would believe her.
"I promise, but also understand that strength alone does not make equal. Equality comes from learning and understanding from all sides." Her gazes went over every person around her, "Regardless if you are warrior, mage, noble, or regular person. You all are responsible to yourself and others to be kind and honorable. That is doubly true for those of status and strength. And hold themselves to a higher standard than being controlled by pettiness, cruelty, or racism. They must be better."
Serana took note of the people around her lover, taking in all her words like gospel with a reverent look in their eyes.
"And if any of you are inspired to become a fighter, understand it will be a hard road. But stay true to yourself and never take the easy road."
Coran nodded, "True words spoken." he pats Vaea's head, "Hopefully, they don't slip from my dear niece's empty head." He jested, garnering a cute glare from said niece, with a few people chuckling at the sight.
"Everyone," Serana rose from her chair before taking Miara's arms, "I know you all have more things you want to learn and ask. But we all had a long day. So let's keep celebrating till we all pass out?" At that, the people cheered, but not before Vaea ran up to the Dunmeri woman, who had stood and hugged her tightly around the waist.
The elven woman smiled, hugging her back before letting her uncle take her back to the party around them. Both had moved to a quieter area in the pub where they could enjoy themselves. "I will never get used to people asking me things like I know it all."
Serana rolled her eyes, "You never could see that you become a people's hero. You saved all of them from a fate worse than death. Of course, they want to get to know you. Why do you think they hung to every word you said?"
"I'm Doom Driven, not a hero." She recoiled, holding her head after her lover smacked her, "Ow! What was that for?!"
"Just take the damn compliment for once. You have saved countless lives. You've changed the dire fates of many who would have fallen to death or worse. Countless more people truly love and adore you for it. You are a hero, Miara."
The dunmer sighed, rubbing the sore spot in her head. "You know I have my hangups about being called that,"
"You keep the dragon under control through lots of things; berating yourself for your mistakes keeps you from seeing the good you do."
Miara responded, "I find it keeps me mortal," Her lips pursed. "I know I'm not anymore, but I rather remain close to them."
"Through regrets?" Serana quirked a brow at her. "Mortals don't act solely on their remorse."
"Hmm..." She hummed softly, her gaze shifting to nowhere in particular. "You're right in that regard."
"You're not going to turn into Miraak just because people are grateful to you and you actually see you did something brave" She winced at that remark, but Miara needed to hear it. "You saved me after all, and I'm always going to remind you of that fact" The vampire held Miara's hand and placed it against her cheek, enjoying its warmth on her skin.
Miara smiled lovingly at her most beloved, "You helped me through so much too."
"I did; I know how much we helped each other before. I know you far better than I know myself," The vampire smiled at her, "So, at least, let me call you my hero."
That Miara could accept wholeheartedly. So she placed an arm around Serana's waist and pulled her close, tilting her head so their lips would meet. Regardless of all the sins she committed and the mistakes of her past, she would always strive to be Serana's hero.
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Segway chapter.