A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Chapter two!



Anders woke with a start, patting himself down as if to make sure he was still in one piece.

A sardonic voice from the side spoke to him. “Yes, because selling body parts brings a steady income.”

Anders blinked and focused his eyes where he heard the voice. It was dark in the room, or mostly. Moonlight filtered in from a window and he could just make out the dark haired man from before, sitting in a chair off to his right. “I’m still alive.” He said tilting his head to the side.

“Yes, and you’re still at the Vigil. And you’re in my bed.” The man grumped. “But the commander told me to put you here until you awoke. So here you are and now you’re awake, and we can go find you a bedroom of your very own.” Nathaniel stood and stretched the muscles that had started to cramp from his bedside vigil.

A knock at the door had him swearing underneath his breath. “I’m coming. Maker’s breath, have some patience.” He opened the door and glowered out into Zevran’s face. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

Zevran grinned. “A little message from our esteemed Commander. Seems the Mage is now your responsibility. He just signed over the papers he purchased from that Rylok lady directly to you.”

Nathaniel blinked. Once. Twice. “WHAT?!”

Zevran shrugged. “If you don’t want him I’m sure that Templar lady would be happy to take him back.”

Nathaniel looked back over his shoulder when he heard the whimper and then turned back to Zevran. “I’ve never… I don’t want… Maker’s breath. Fine. Fine. If it keeps him out of the hands of those monsters, then fine.” He grumbled under his breath. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with him though…”

Zevran winked at him. “I’m sure you’ll be able to think of something.” The Antivan laughed and then waved as he walked away.

Nathaniel frowned. “What does he…” A look of horror flitted across his face. “After what’s happened to him? Zevran, you bastard.” Then he sighed and turned around. “Alright mage… Anders. What would you like to do first?” He asked as he rubbed his forehead. “Eat or find yourself a room?”

Anders simply looked at him quizzically and bowed his head. “If you are the one who owns me, am I not to stay in here? I wouldn’t take up much room on the floor, Ser.”

Nathaniel resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall in frustration. “My name is Nathaniel and no. You are not staying in my chambers. You will have your own, and if you feel a desperate need to see me, you know where to find me.” He sighed. “I don’t know what the Commander was thinking, but, you’re free to do whatever you want.” Then he paused, “Unless it includes leaving or hurting anyone here.” He amended. “You’re free as long as you don’t do anything stupid.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Can you do that?”

Anders pulled himself from the bed and nodded. “Then I want another bath. Can you show me where they are from here?”

Nathaniel pointed. “You go down that hall and make a left. It’s the second door on the right. The first door is the women’s bath, so unless you have a death wish, don’t go in there.” He flushed.

Anders stared at him, surprised, and let out a little snicker before he rushed from the room, trying to make it to the baths before Nathaniel changed his mind about leaving him unsupervised.

Nathaniel groaned. “This is going to be a long night…”

Anders slipped into the warmth of the baths with a sigh and just let himself relax for the first time in a very long time only to be startled by the sound of the door slamming open. He shrank back into the tub, thinking someone was coming after him when he saw... He blinked and stared. The person was very… short. And was swinging a bottle of something around.

The man took a swig from the bottle and Anders cringed as he saw some of it dribble down into the great flaming red beard. “So you’re the new recruit,” He said with a laugh. “Name’s Oghren!”

Anders retreated a bit farther. “Er… my name is Anders.”

Oghren settled himself into the very spacious tub and then grinned. “Bet you don’t know what I am huh? Though I learned a lot about you mages from Wynne.”

Anders seized on that. “Wynne? You… you were one of her traveling companions too? What happened? Where is she?” Then he stopped, because old habits die hard.

“As near as I can remember Alistair took that fancy collar off of her and let her go.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised the old lady didn’t head back to the tower and rain fire on those blighters.” Then he belched. “I bet you’re wondering what I am huh boy? The old lady didn’t know what I was either. Those blighters at the Tower didn’t teach you anything, did they?”

Anders felt strangely at ease and decided to be honest. “Oh, they taught us the important things, Ser. Like how to bow and scrape and perform whatever services our Masters required of us. Beating and using us when we didn’t comply in the manner they wanted.” He snorted. “And sometimes using us even when we did exactly what they wanted of us. Any hint of rebellion, imagined or not, was punished.” He spread his arms to show some of the scars he’d “acquired.” “So you can imagine what they did to me each of the seven times I tried to escape, and sometimes succeeded.”

“By the Stone. They treat you mages worse than the casteless!” Oghren was a little stupefied. “The old lady never mentioned anything like this.”

“Casteless?”

“Oh. Right.” Another belch. “I’m a Dwarf. We separate our people out into groups. The nobles, commoners, and Casteless. And then you have people like me who spend time on the surface. We’re surface caste. Not even welcome back home.”

Anders nodded. Oghren seemed willing to talk to him. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out more. “What do you… know about Nathaniel? The Commander signed my papers over to him. And he seems nice.”

“Howe’s little blighter, you mean?” Oghren scratched his head, “Well I don’t know much about him save he’s nothing like his Father. His father killed a very important family a year or so back and we learned that even before the massacre he was the kind of man to kick puppies.” Oghren snorted, “Took care o’ him though.”

Anders thought about that. “So… he’s a kind man. He won’t… mistreat me?”

Oghren stared at him. “You need to get out of that kinda thinkin’ boy. Within the walls of the Keep you’re a free man. Commander’s orders. And no one crosses the Commander. Not unless they want one of Zevran’s knives in their gut.”

“He’d really do something like that?”

Oghren chuckled. “Sneaky bastard is an assassin.”

Anders' brow furrowed. Nathaniel had mentioned an assassin, too. He had also mentioned that he was the commander's... He blinked. “Is the Commander… involved with this Zevran person?”

Oghren howled with laughter. “Yeah. The Commander and Zevran have been sharing a tent since before they picked me up from Orzammar. The Commander’s in love with him or something like that. Can’t imagine why. The Elf tried to kill him, or so I heard.”

Anders flushed. “The Templar lied to me then. They told me I was doubly cursed.” He frowned. “So that’s accepted out here? They wouldn’t kill me if they knew?”

“Kill you? By the tits of my ancestors, of course they wouldn’t.” Oghren laughed. “Just uh… stay away from me alright? I like women.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it… Oghren. You’re like a helpful Uncle.” Anders chuckled and slid deeper into the water. “How do they keep it warm? The bath I mean.”

Oghren shrugged. “Something about pipes running all through the Vigil.”

Anders nodded. “I’ll ask… Nathaniel then.” The he sighed and regretfully climbed out of the bath, dried, and then dressed. “I had probably better get back before they start looking for me.”

Oghren raised the bottle in some sort of toast. “Don’t forget to loosen up, boy.” And slouched down into the water to continue drinking.

Anders made a small sound of affirmation and went looking for Nathaniel. He found the man still loitering around the hallway outside of his room.

“Ah. There you are mage. Come on, then. Your room is right over here.” Nathaniel led him to a chamber a short distance away from his own. “It’s close enough that you can come and get me if you need to and so I can hear if someone starts giving you a hard time.” Nathaniel rationalized. “Not that I expect anyone here to really do that.”

Anders nodded. “I’ll go to sleep then, Ser. Thank you.”

Nathaniel waved him off. “No thanks necessary. Remember that you’re a free man here. And for Andraste’s sake, please use my name.”

Anders nodded again and stepped into his room, letting Nathaniel shut the door behind him.

To be fair, he tried to sleep on the bed. He really did. There was just something about the height that worried him, and so, a few hours later, he crept back down the hall and into Nathaniel’s room, hoping the other man would just let him stay there on the floor.

When he shut the door, however, the click jolted the man on the bed awake. “What?! Wha… Anders? What are you doing in here?”

“The bed, Ser. It’s… too high. Can’t I just sleep on the floor in here?” Anders sat himself on the small rug at the foot of the bed.

Nathaniel let out a groan. “No, you can’t sleep on the floor. But if it will make you feel better… blast it. Here.” He dragged himself from the warmth of his bed and pulled the mattress off of the frame and onto the floor. “Come here, mage.” He settled himself back onto the mattress and slapped it once before rolling over and going back to sleep.

Anders stared at his back a moment before crawling over and snuggling into the covers, hoping that Nathaniel wouldn’t force him out tomorrow.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

UNDERCOVER MAGE

Part 2 :3



Anders clung to Nate the entire way back to Vigil, not caring one whit who saw them. He was done with hiding. He didn’t care who knew he was in love at this point, as long as he got to show it in every way he could.

When they reached Nate's room, the noble guided Anders to the bed and then stood to close the door with a soft click. He stood at the door for a few moments before stepping back over to the bed and pulling Anders into a desperate hug. “Anders...” he choked out. "Maker's breath, Mage, don't ever do something like that again... I... I refuse to lose you.”

Anders blinked back tears and wrapped his arms around Nate, trembling a little and petting the other’s hair soothingly. “I can't just sit by if you're going to get hurt. I can heal myself.”

Nate growled a little and pulled back from the hug. “I refuse to accept that, Anders. You can heal me just as easily as you can heal yourself.” He pushed the wig off of Anders' head and pulled out a rag from his trunk to wipe the makeup off.

Anders grumbled, but sat still for his washing. "Can I take this thing off now?" He pulled at the dress ignoring Nate's admonishment.

“I mean it, mage.” Nathaniel nuzzled his lover's neck. “I'm not going to lose you. What if you're struck someplace you can't heal yourself next time?”

Anders sucked in a soft breath and leaned into the nuzzling. "Fine. I’ll keep that in mind for the next time."

Nathaniel closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that was all he was going to get out of Anders. Then he quirked a grin and the tantalizing thought of Anders bent over the bed with these skirts pulled up danced in his mind... “Anders,” he said with a soft growl in his voice, “Get up on the bed and turn around.”

Anders furrowed his brows. “What?”

“You heard me.” he said, voice a little harsher than intended, “You promised me you'd get dirty and sweaty tonight.”

“No. No, no. Not in this dress!” Anders squawked. “I refuse to have you make love to me as if I were some… chambermaid!”

“I’m going to bed you tonight, lover.” His voice was husky and low. “Hands and knees. On the bed. Now!”

Anders blinked at him indignantly, “Well...” Reluctance, then consent. “You'd better make this worth the humiliation.”

Nathaniel grinned a rather evil looking smile. "Oh, believe me. I will."

Anders watched from the bed as Nate merely pulled his smallclothes aside, seemingly refusing to get undressed. The look in his lover’s eyes was almost enough to make him forget what he was wearing.

Almost.

Nathaniel moved over to the end of the bed and looked down at Anders. “Well?” He was grinning. “What are you waiting for?” That low growl was back in his voice again.

Anders shivered and pulled the leather straps of the skirt out of the way. Smiling to himself, he deliberately avoided his partner’s erection and nuzzled the juncture of hip and groin, occasionally flicking his tongue out. Hands suddenly buried in his hair and nails in his scalp forced his mouth slightly to the left. He heard a growl above him and those hands tightened. Anders took the hint and ran his tongue up the underside of Nathaniel’s erection.

“Anders.” His voice was low and raspy. “Anders, don’t you dare tease me.”

Anders chuckled. “Like this?” He ran his tongue along that hot length again. Those hands in his hair tightened and he was pulled away and up to look Nathaniel in the eyes. The rogue mashed their lips together in a savage kiss, then twisted his arm and sent Anders sprawling on hands and knees on the bed.

"I warned you not to tease me." Nathaniel let out an evil chuckle. "I don't see why you have such a problem with this." His hands skimmed down the mage's back, sliding over the satin until he could grip at the hem. "Just like your robes. Easy access."

And with that, he flipped up the skirts, a few of the pearls skittering off the bed and onto the floor as he did so. Skimming a hand over Anders' bare backside, he hummed thoughtfully. "You even kept the same habit." He gave him a very light smack. "You make a very naughty lady, Mage."

"I'm not a--" Anders' protest was cut off by a groan, feeling his lover's nails dragging up his thighs to his hips. Pulled back, he could feel Nate's heat resting against him, a contrast to the cool leather that brushed the rest of his skin. He sagged further down to the mattress, trying to shift his hips a little, to initiate more contact between the two of them. "Now who's teasing?"

"Not for long." Retrieving the oil they kept nearby, Nathaniel slicked up his fingers, reaching between the two of them to not only coat himself but to make sure Anders was stretched enough, ready for him. As it was, he was barely holding himself back, shifting to position himself and allowing only a heartbeat's pause before pressing inside.

Anders had only a moment to catch his breath before he felt himself pulled back. One hand left his hips to twine into his hair again, arching his back, forcing the angle of his body to change. If Nate kept moving with him like that...

Except that he didn't. The rogue behind him was still. Letting out a soft whimper, trying to shift his hips in encouragement, he even rocked back a little, pressing the two of them closer together.

Nathaniel rewarded his eager lover by pulling out and then suddenly plunging back in, setting a furious pace that had Anders crying out with each thrust. From the moans he was letting out, he was right on the edge of pleasure. All it would take would be one more nudge.

Releasing his mage's hip, he leaned forward, reaching around and taking hold of him. He had to surpress a laugh as the two of them got rather tangled in the skirts, that hardly stopping him from moving his hand, finding a pace to match the furious motion of his hips.

And that's what did him in. Anders lost it as he felt the firm stroke around him. Already, it had been too long since he'd been with Nate and all the sensations all at once pushed him over the edge within moments. Hair sliding free of the rogue's grip, he sagged forward again. As he felt his own muscles trembling, there was a muffled grunt behind him as Nate followed him into orgasm.

As the two of them settled, Nathaniel lazily wiped his hand on the torn dress, shifting in bed to allow Anders to spoon against him. Bringing a hand up to curl at his mage's chest, he let out a chuckle, plunging his hand into the neckline of the tattered garment and pulling out one of the skins.

"Now can I take this dress off?" Anders grumbled softly.

Nathaniel let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, Anders. Now you can take the dress off."



Thank Copper for the smut. I wrote rushed badly written failsmut. She fixed it.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Chapter 3! Introducing a very important OC of mine too. I rather like him <3

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Anders woke to a peculiar feeling. He was warm underneath the blanket, yes. But the warmth was also heavy. He stared down at his chest into a mess of dark brown hair. He blinked, and then he recalled the night before, and that Nathaniel had slept with him on the floor. He smiled and felt a warm glow in his chest. “He’s nicer than anyone’s ever been to me…” Then he recalled that the noble was now his master and an awkward feeling replaced the glow, and he poked Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Uhm. Ser? Please wake up…”

Nathaniel stirred and tightened his grip on Anders for a moment before he noticed where he was and leapt backwards from the mattress.

Anders stared curiously at the bright red blush on the man’s face and tried to keep from laughing.

Nathaniel stared for a moment before he said, “You tell no one… no one what I was doing.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “I’m your slave, Ser. Remember? You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, and no one can say otherwise.”

Several emotions flickered across Nathaniel’s face before he let out a groan and bolted from the room.

Anders finally gave into his compulsion and burst into laughter. When he finally managed to control his laughing, he tidied up Nathaniel’s room, placing the mattress back on the bed. When he was satisfied with his work, he left the room and headed off for a bath.

When he managed to pull himself away from the bath about an hour later, he went to look for Nathaniel. He was hungry. So very hungry. And while he was used to not eating, this was a different kind of hungry clawing at his belly. He wanted to know how much food he was allowed to eat.

When he couldn’t find the other man after a few minutes of looking, he slunk to the kitchens and began raiding the larder. There’s so much food here… I’ll just eat a little… they won’t miss anything.

“Who’s in there?!” He heard a rather stern voice muffled by the door.

“Oh Maker.” Anders dropped the food he was holding and shrank down into a corner. I’m going to get beaten. They’re going to send me back to the Tower. I should have looked harder for him. Oh Maker, please don’t let them send me back.

The door opened and a rather stern looking grey haired man stepped inside. “Oh, it’s you. What are you…?” He saw the food on the floor and sighed. “I’ll be right back. I need to go get Nathaniel. Stay put.”

Anders paled. “Please don’t go get him! I know I should have asked him, but I was so hungry and I…” He shut his mouth with a click. Begging with the Templar only made the beatings worse.

The man stopped in the doorway. “Son, just stay put.”

Anders cowered on the floor in the corner. He’s going to send me back. I just know it. I don’t want to go back. I’m finally clean. He was still whimpering in the same place when Nathaniel arrived with the other man.

The man pointed at him and said, “Look at him. I found him there, cowering in the corner! Nathaniel Howe, why didn’t you tell him about the changes that come along with being one of the Wardens? Why didn’t you tell him that an increase in appetite was to be expected and he is encouraged to eat as much as he needs or wants whenever he wants to?” The man stood there and scolded Nathaniel for a few more minutes.

Nathaniel finally muttered a “Yes, Seneschal Varel,” Before turning to Anders. “Come on then. Grab something and let’s go. We have a lot to talk about.”

Anders stared back and forth at them before climbing to his feet and grabbing a small hunk of bread and following. “You’re… not going to send me back?” He directed his question at Varel.

“Of course not boy. You’re one of us now.” The gruff man actually smiled.

“Thank you…” Anders mumbled and followed Nathaniel closely, nibbling on his piece of bread. They’d only been walking for a few minutes before he spoke up again, “Did he… Did he tell me the truth? You aren’t going to send me back because I stole some food?” Nathaniel continued to remain silent. Anders bit his lip. “You’re not angry with me are you? I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you and I was hungry and—“

“Anders. Stop talking. Varel was right. I should have told you the changes you’ll be going through as a Warden.” Nathaniel stopped and turned to face him. “You’re one of us now. Remember that. No one is going to send you back there. One of these days I want you to tell me what they did to you, so I know how to avoid setting you off.”

Anders stared at him with wide eyes. “Ser, you don’t want to know what they did to me. I don’t want to know what they did to me but it’s not likely I’ll forget.”

Nathaniel nodded. “I understand. But here, sit.” They’d reached a dining hall and he pulled out a chair. “As a Warden your body is going to change. You've obviously noticed the increase in appetite.” He stared pointedly at the bread and then continued. “The second thing you should know is that you’ve only got thirty years to live after the joining.” Nathaniel’s face took on a pained look. “You’ll also start having nightmares soon. We can feel the Darkspawn. That goblet you drank out of was some of their blood. You’re tainted, and the taint is what eventually kills you.” Then he blushed. “It’s also now nearly impossible for you to have children, if you so possessed the urge.”

Anders snorted. “I can’t say that last issue will be much of a drawback for me,” he mumbled around the bread.

Nathaniel nodded. “When you start having the nightmares come see me. We’ll set up a mattress for you in my room. If you didn’t want to be alone last night, I can only imagine what it’s going to be like once those start.”

“I told you last night, Ser;” Anders looked a bit nettled, “the bed was too high. I’ve never slept on anything higher than the ground.”

“So if we take your mattress off you’ll stay in your room this time?” The blush was creeping back up Nathaniel’s cheeks.

“Of course not, Ser.”

Nathaniel blinked and then tapped his fingers on the table. “And why not?”

“Because you obviously need someone to keep the room tidy for you. I can do that easier if it’s my room as well.” Anders finished off his bread. “Speaking of, where are your clothes? They probably need to be laundered.”

Nathaniel sputtered, going very red in the face. “I don’t need to be taken care of. I’m a grown man.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “I can see that. However, you seem to need help keeping everything clean.” He tilted his head. “The clothes you’re wearing right now have stains on them.”

“Aren’t you supposed to do what I tell you to do?” Nathaniel asked, helplessly.

Anders gave him a cool look. “Not when it interferes with what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Fine. Do whatever you want. You’re supposed to be a free man here in the Vigil anyway, so do whatever you like.”

The smile on Anders’ face lit up the room. “Why thank you, Ser.”

“Why does it make you so happy to be used like this?”

“Because for the first time in my life I’m choosing to serve who I’m bound to,” Anders replied. “When I was in the Tower, if I didn’t serve who they told me to, the Templar ra—beat me.”

Nathaniel noticed the stumble and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “So now, for the first time, when you could choose to serve yourself, you’re choosing to mother me? I have servants who—“

“No,” Anders said quietly. “No more servants going through your things. You’re obviously someone important or I wouldn’t have been given to you. You need a single person that you can trust dealing with your property.”

“And why is that? You think someone would try to assassinate me?” Nathaniel was curious.

Anders simply nodded. “Rylok. She… doesn’t let go of her property easily. And the easiest way for a Mage to get taken back to the Tower is to have their owner die.”

Nathaniel nodded as if having some huge revelation. “So you *can* be selfish. You aren’t just doing this for me.”

Anders shrank down in his chair, looking guilty.

“Stop that,” Nathaniel said irritably. “I’m relieved to hear that you can at least think about yourself. I’ll trust someone with self interest at heart more than someone protecting me out of altruism.”

An uneasy silence fell between them until Nathaniel shifted and said, “Come on. I need to train you to use a weapon don’t I? Let’s head to the training grounds. Follow me.”

The training grounds were empty when they entered, and Nathaniel hovered over the weapons rack, debating on which weapon to give to the mage. He finally selected a mace and held it out. “Go on. Take this. I’ll not have you using anything sharp until you’ve built up those muscles and your coordination.”

Anders reluctantly took hold of the mace. “Now what should I do, Ser?”

“You see those dummies?” Nathaniel pointed. “I want you to go over there and hit them. Repeatedly.”

Anders frowned but did as he was told. It didn’t take long for his arms to become fatigued and for him to have worked up a sweat.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Nathaniel stepped over to him and plucked the mace from his hands. “You’ve got the hang of it. I hope the commander isn’t planning on taking you with us any time soon. Wait…” Nathaniel stopped. “What kind of magic can you do?”

“I was brought here to be a healer, but I have an understanding of Nature spells as well. They're all very weak, though, because of the--”

“Collar, yes…” Nathaniel absently scratched his chin. “The Commander told us that Wynne could give weapons nature attributes. Could you make this mace cold?”

Anders frowned and reached his hand back out to touch the weapon. Frost spread over his fingertips and over the weapon.

Nathaniel felt the weapon grow cold under his hand, but it wasn’t uncomfortably so. When he touched the head of the weapon, however, he muffled a curse and drew his hand back. “That answers that question…” He murmured. “Can you do this before a battle? To multiple weapons? What about fire?”

Anders nodded. “Whatever you or the commander need me to do. Will this make it easier on me to fight?”

Nathaniel nodded absently. “If you’re doing more damage this way then it will be over faster. And if you can make it colder you may just be able to freeze and shatter bits of them when you hit.”

Anders stood there, waiting for Nathaniel to say something else, and shifted uncomfortably when some of the soldiers started filtering into the grounds for training. “Ser. We aren’t alone here anymore.” He cleared his throat.

Nathaniel looked up and around. “Ah right. You used up a lot of energy in the last couple of hours. Are you hungry again?”

Anders nodded. “Yes, Ser.”

“Then go get something to eat from the Kitchen. Let the cook know you’re the new Warden and he’ll feed you as much as he can get you to eat.” Nathaniel chuckled. “I’m going to try this mace out and see if it works as well as I hope. When you’re done eating go talk to the Commander; there are a few more things he needs to tell you.”

Anders quickly left the grounds, keeping his eyes low and away from the soldiers still filtering in. When he reached the kitchens without incident, he let out a sigh of relief and raised his voice a little. “Uhm… It’s the cook here? Nathaniel told me to come in and get some more food…” His stomach let out an embarrassing gurgle.

A young man poked his head out from the larder. “Aha! You are the new Warden!” His accent marked him as being from Orlais. He reached a flour dusted hand up to push his nearly black hair out of his face. “Come in, come in. I have just the thing for you. Whenever you’re hungry come see me. Always.” He was wearing an open friendly grin, and openly staring at Anders. “You are far too skinny. I will fatten you up.” And he pulled out a few sweetcakes and cookies from the larder, setting them on the table in front of the mage. “Eat, eat!”

“I…” Anders stared at him. “I’m a mage. You’re not afraid of me?”

“What?!” The young man’s brown eyes widened. “Only fools are afraid of Mages. Ours are perfectly free and no one is hurt. Well… they are hurt less often than they are here! You trap mages up, make them slaves… Good way to attract demons.” He nodded emphatically. “My name is Henri! Now eat!”

Anders obediently dropped his gaze to the food, and was thus unaware of Henri’s lingering gaze. He took a bite of one of the sweetcakes first, and dropped the rest of it in surprise.

Henri’s expressive face grew alarmed. “They are no good?” He seemed genuinely worried that his food had failed.

Anders shook his head emphatically and devoured the rest of them, including the cookies that had been set in front of him. “These are amazing! I’ve… never had anything sweet before. This is…” He seemed to be at a loss for words, and he gestured with the cookie. “Can I have more?”

Henri’s face lit up again. “More? Of course! You can have as many as you want! We will stuff you with as many as we can fit!”

Anders froze at the cook’s choice of words, and swallowed heavily. “On… On second thought, I need to see the commander. May I just take a few cookies with me?”

Henri’s face fell. “Oh. Yes, yes. I’ll leave the larder unlocked for you. I know how it gets for you Wardens at night.”

Anders nodded. “Thank you.” Then scooped up the rest of his cookies and nibbled them on the way to the Commander’s study. When he arrived, he knocked lightly.

A muffled voice that sounded like the Zevran person from before. “Yes? What is it? We’re a little busy.”

Anders blushed. “It’s um… Anders. The Commander wanted to see me?” He *really* hoped they would send him away.

There was a muffled curse and he heard, “Zevran. Get your clothes on. I need to ask him abooouuuuu… Mmmm. No! Stop!” He heard the Antivan laugh and then the door scraped open, Zevran sweeping by him wearing nothing but loose breeches and a smirk.

Anders blushed to the roots of his hair and stepped inside when the flustered Commander called him in. “I can come back later…”

“No, no…” Thomais said fixing his hair. “I needed to kick him out anyway. I wasn’t getting any work done.” He chuckled.

Anders popped a cookie in his mouth to avoid commenting.

“Now, Nathaniel has spoken to you about the changes when you become a Grey Warden, yes?” Anders nodded. “Good. I sent a messenger to Denerim to get in contact with Alistair. I know he set Wynne free, and I’m hoping he can take that collar off of you.” Thomais rubbed his forehead. “The problem is that he and I aren’t exactly on good speaking terms.” He smiled apologetically and scratched at one blue tattooed cheek. “I want you to be there when I speak to him. If he sees you maybe...”

Anders nodded again. “He *was* one of the few that was nice to us. Maybe now that he… has power he can help us. He always seemed to want to in the Tower.”

Thomais steepled his fingers. “I also sent word to the Tower offering a large sum for the three mages you mentioned. We’ll have your friends here soon enough.” Then he smiled. “So how was your first night in Vigil?”

Anders blinked and swallowed his cookie. “Uhm. It’s nothing like the Tower,” he said honestly. “Nath-- My master is very nice. He’s teaching me how to use weapons, and let me stay with him last night because the bed is too high.”

Thomais’ eyes widened. “Let you…” Then he frowned. “I need to have a talk with him then.”

Anders shook his head. “Please no. He didn’t do anything to me. He pulled his mattress onto the floor with me and just let me stay.” Anders’ face was turning pink. “Not that he’d be doing anything wrong if he did. I’m a slave, Ser. Remember?”

Thomais growled. “Not in my Keep. You are a free man within these walls Anders. You can say no. You'd also be well within your rights to defend yourself if someone tried to push you into anything.”

Anders shook his head again, and then he perked up a bit. “If it’s not to bold of me to ask, Ser, could you keep the servants away from his room? I… Rylok doesn’t let anyone go without a fight. I don’t want to go back to the tower and I don’t trust anyone else to not kill him.”

Thomais nodded. “It’s not too bold at all. I’ll send the order to the servant’s quarters. Don’t worry about Nathaniel. He can take care of himself.” Then he chuckled. “You know, he broke into Vigil to try and kill me. It took four Orlesian Wardens to get him into the dungeon. They were going to execute him, but I invoked the Right of Conscription and made him a Warden.” Thomais grinned a little wider. “He’s proved remarkably loyal so far. It’s strange…” He scratched his chin. “The ones that try to kill me end up being the most loyal friends I could have.”

“Oh? Talking about me are we?”

Anders shifted in his chair, startled. He hadn’t heard anyone walking by. Zevran stood in the doorway wearing a cheeky grin.

“Yes, we were, love.” Thomais stood and placed a kiss on the Antivan’s cheek.

“Since you were talking about me, does that mean you were considering my proposal, my dear?” Zevran stepped into the room and sat on the desk smirking at Anders, and the mage looked distinctly frightened.

Thomais gave him an exasperated look. “No. And stop that. My answer is going to keep being no.”

Zevran sighed and shrugged. “Well, I suppose I will just have to settle with ravaging just you.” He slid off of the desk and sauntered towards Thomais.

Thomais blushed. “Uh, Anders? If you’d excuse me? We’ll talk again once the others… have… arrived…” And then he was distracted by a pair of arms around him and a mouth firmly attached to his.

Anders nodded and beat a hasty retreat back to Nathaniel’s room.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

NOW PRESENTING..... CHAPTER 4!


---------------
A few days later, halfway on their trip to Amaranthine, Nathaniel unobtrusively watched Anders set up his bedroll through the fire that separated them. “Are you alright?”

“Huh?” Anders looked up from his fussing and nodded. “I’m fine. This is the least strenuous trip I’ve been on.” He laughed. “No one ever took this slow of a trip with me along before.”

A pained look passed over Nathaniel’s face. “Anders…” He stood and crossed over to the mage. “I’m going to take the first watch.” His voice was oddly quiet and soft and he placed a hand on Anders’ shoulder. “You get some sleep.” And he strode over to the edge of the clearing.

Anders settled into his bedroll, determined to get in some rest before it was his turn on watch, waking as he became aware of lips kissing him and teeth scraping his bottom lip, causing him to moan. He buried his hands in dark hair as the owner of that hair grabbed his own blonde locks and tugged his mouth away. “Now now…” A dark chuckle. “I’m in charge here. Or have you forgotten who your Master is? Has this soft life already erased your training?”

Anders moaned again and whimpered. He wanted to be kissed like that again. Hungry, passionate, demanding and claiming. “Nathaniel, please…” he whined.

“That’s not how you ask, Anders.” Hot breath in his ear, teeth on the lobe. “Ask correctly.”

“Master, please…”

“Good boy…”

Anders sat up with a startled yell. Nathaniel, who was standing watch with his back to the mage, whipped around, thinking something had snuck up behind him but relaxed when he saw nothing. “Bad dream?” The dark haired rogue asked softly.

Anders turned bright red. “N…n…no.”

“Ah.” Nathaniel nodded and abruptly turned back to the forest, a blush staining his own cheeks. He’d heard the mage thrashing around and moaning, but he’d assumed it was nothing more than a simple nightmare. And Maker’s breath, I’m not his babysitter. I don’t have to wake him every time he may be having a bad dream. “Go back to sleep Anders. I’ll wake you for the watch in a few hours.” He heard the mage mutter something incoherently and then settle back down.

True to his word, Nathaniel woke him shortly after the middle of the night had passed. The noble rested a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. “Anders, wake up it’s your watch.”

Anders blinked blearily at him. “Hrrmmm? Nate?” Then his eyes widened as he realized who he was talking to and he babbled out an apology and staggered off to the edge of the trees.

Nathaniel stared across the clearing at him and opened his mouth as if to say something. Thinking better of it, he shut his mouth and crawled into his own bedroll and hoped the Fade would be kinder on him tonight.

They arrived at Amaranthine shortly before midday. “What are your policies on,” Nathaniel swallowed, “Slaves?”

The guard looked at him with a bored expression. “Slaves are to be collared and on a lead at all times within the walls of the city.” Then he looked behind Nathaniel at Anders, who was staring up at the walls. “That one eh? The Templar only brought him here once. Caused a huge fuss.”

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “I have him well in hand. He doesn’t need a lead.”

“Oh, I’m certain you do.” The guard smirked and leered at Anders. “He’s a pretty one, though. Almost like woman with that hair. Care to rent him out for the night?”

Nathaniel leveled a cold glare on the man. “You are aware that’s my property you’re leering at?”

“So?” The guard laughed coarsely. “That’s what the little cocksucker likes.” The guard reached a hand out to grab Anders by the arm. The mage let out a squeak and hid behind Nathaniel. “Last time he was here, the Templar lent him out to the guards after he tried to run away. I heard he was begging for it by the end.” There was a smug grin on the man’s face.

Nathaniel calmly reached out and grabbed the front of man’s tunic, bringing him in close. “If I ever hear you say anything about my property again I will gut you and leave you for the vultures.” He shoved the man away and stalked into the city, hand firmly attached to Anders’ arm.

When they rounded the corner, away from the eyes of the guards, Nathaniel let go and sighed wearily. “How many times?”

Anders stared at him, eyes wide. “How… what?”

Nathaniel growled. “How many times did the Templar do this to you? Use you like this?”

“I…I thought you knew. They… everyone.” Anders wilted. “Doesn’t matter how often.” He mumbled.

Nathaniel took a deep, calming breath. “I swear to Andraste and the Maker, we will get freedom for the mages. No one, especially no one who has no control over the way they were born, deserves to be treated like this.”

Anders blinked at him. “Ser, we’re going to make a scene. Please, let’s just go. It doesn’t matter what they did to me. I’m not going back.”

Nathaniel nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He waved a hand to head off Anders’ protests. “I know, you’re slave, I don’t have to apologize.” He sighed wearily. “Come on. The tailor is this way.” Letting out another sigh, he led them down a side street and though a door.

A short, fat and balding man met them midway to the counter. “Yes? What do you need?”

Nathaniel pointed. “I need five separate outfits for him.”

“Ooooh! I know just the style, Ser. Your slave will look stunning in this…” He rummaged around a box and pulled out a small vest-like top, and sheer pantaloons with embroidery on the side. “He will be the envy of all the others. This is the latest style. Just in this season.”

Nathaniel let out an incredulous snort, though he turned an impressive shade of red. “No. I need something he can move in. Not that ridiculous… harem… outfit.”

“Move?” The man looked baffled. “But is he not a pleasure slave? He is too scrawny, what else could he be good for?”

Nathaniel clenched his hands to restrain his temper. “Not only is he the new Healer for Vigil, but he’s the personal bodyguard for the Grey Wardens. Now find me something he can move in! And get this...trash out of my sight. I never want to see it again.”

The man huffed indignantly, and started rooting around in the back, muttering to himself. “Aha!” He came back with a set of robes that had multiple straps and layers around the waist, accented by furred sleeves. There was also light chainmail woven into the fabric, and the fur covered metal plates. “Here! Worn by the Arcane Warriors of the old Tevinter Imperium, and meticulously copied for authenticity and practicality!”

Nathaniel studied the robes for a few minutes and then nodded. “These are perfect. Take his measurements, but leave some room for muscle growth. Once they're done, they're to be transported to Vigil as soon as possible. You're to make this your top priority, understand? Money isn’t an issue. Just get them done.”

The man puffed up indignantly. “Ser, I don’t know who you are but you can’t just demand that I move you to the top of the list!”

Nathaniel pulled out the pouch given to him by Thomais and withdrew a handful of gold. “There are one hundred coins in here. I’ve been authorized by the Commander of the Grey to give you the full amount.” The man’s eyes bulged and he snatched for the purse. Nathaniel jerked it away. “Provided you can fulfill the order within the next few days.”

“Yes, yes. You'll be my top priority. Now leave, if you want me to get started. No need to measure. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

Nathaniel nodded at the man politely and, taking Anders’ arm in hand again, they left Amaranthine without further incident.

Halfway back to the Keep they set up again for the night.

“I’ll take first watch this time, Ser.” Anders hadn’t bothered to pull out his bed roll yet. “You sleep as much as you want. I appreciate what you did for me in the city today. I wish there was a better way to repay you.” An image from his dream flashed through his mind and he flushed. Thank the Maker he can’t tell through the fire…

Nathaniel blinked wearily at him. “Everyone keeps telling you that you’re one of us now. What will it take to make you believe it?”

Anders laughed softly. “More years than I have left. I don’t think I’ll ever be truly free from them.”

Nathaniel heaved a sigh and curled up in his bedroll. “Just wake me when it’s my turn.” He closed his eyes and did his best to drift off to sleep.

The weight of a hand on his hip roused him from slumber and he blinked his eyes open to find Anders perched at his side.

“I’ve thought of a way that I can repay you…” The mage murmured, sliding his hand along to the front of Nathaniel’s breeches.

Nathaniel’s face flamed and he pulled away. “I don’t know what’s come over you, but I don’t---”

He saw Anders grin. “You think I don’t see how you look at me? How your eyes watch me wherever I go?” He chuckled. “And you can’t claim it’s to make sure I don’t try anything. You trust me enough to stand watch, so there’s no need to watch me like that… Unless you want something from me.”

Nathaniel shook his head violently. “I’d never ask that of you! How could you even want to? After what was done to you?” His voice was soft, pleading.

“For my Master, I will.” Anders stretched out beside him and slipped his hand past Nathaniel’s waistband.

Nathaniel groaned at Anders’ touch and gave in. He gently pulled the other man’s hand away and pushed Anders onto his back, straddling the mage’s waist. When Anders reached out again, he growled and pinned the mage’s hands to the ground.

Anders tugged at the hold, whimpering a little, and Nathaniel nearly purred. “You wanted this; you’ll do as I tell you.” As he leaned down, he felt a sudden rush of vertigo, opening his eyes to find himself on his back, staring up at the stars, with Anders shaking his shoulder.

“Ser, Ser! It’s time for you to take the watch. Wake up.”

Nathaniel groaned and sat up. This is going to be a very long day.

They arrived at the Keep mid-afternoon and Nathaniel immediately sent Anders away to the kitchens and went to see the Commander.

“I can’t do this!” Nathaniel groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Can’t do what?” Thomais was alone in his study today.

“I can’t take care of him. I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. I’m going to end up hurting him,” Nathaniel rambled.

Thomais raised an eyebrow and shut the heavy wooden door. “Alright. Why? Tell me what’s going on.”

Nathaniel raised an incredulous look at him. “Do you know what the Templar did to him? They…” He sputtered, “They used him. They rented him out to guards when he misbehaved. And I see him and all I want to do is…” He blushed bright red and lowered his face to his hands again.

Thomais covered his mouth to stifle a snicker. It would not help at all for him to laugh at Nathaniel’s plight. When he was sure he wasn’t going to start giggling, he walked over and patted Nathaniel on the head. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” he murmured.

Nathaniel twisted to look up at him. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging this! How can you say that?!”

“Because you don’t want to hurt him.” Thomais said simply. “If you didn’t care about his feelings, you wouldn’t be here. So, no matter what happens between the two of you, you won’t be hurting him.” He shrugged.

Nathaniel made a strangled noise. “You could just eliminate the temptation completely if you’d take his damn papers back.”

“Nathaniel. I’m not taking the papers back. Now get out of here. I have more work to do.” Thomais opened the door and pointed out into the hallway.

Nathaniel sighed and slunk out of the study, heading back to his room. When he opened the door, he blinked in surprise. Anders was on the floor with a large washtub, stripped to his smallclothes, and elbows deep in the soapy water.

“Ah!” Anders looked up. “There you are. I need your clothes. Strip.”

"I beg your pardon?"

He motioned to the tub in front of him. "Clothes. Now."

Nathaniel remembered how insistent he'd been the other day and wordlessly handed the mage his top.

Anders raised an eyebrow. “Breeches too. You’ve been in them for three days.” Then he looked back down and continued his washing.

Maker, there was no way that was happening, especially not now. He was blushing again and used the momentary distraction to flee to the training grounds. Once there, he was determined to work until he was no longer picturing a wet and soapy, nearly-naked Anders or unconscious, whichever came first.

After a moment, Anders looked up from his task and raised an eyebrow when he didn’t see Nathaniel or the breeches. Then he sighed, shrugged, and went back to washing.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Chapter 5...
------------------



A week passed without incident, Anders finally used to sleeping on a bed, but not in his own room yet. The mage felt safe when in Nathaniel’s presence and kept up a pretense of nightmares to stay with the other man. Each morning he woke to the feeling of being like a child’s stuffed toy and feigned sleep until Nathaniel woke and moved away.

At the end of the week, however, Thomais made his first foray away from his desk since the first night he arrived, to talk to the people surrounding the Keep, taking Nathaniel, Anders, and Zevran with him.

After taking a deep breath of the fresh air outside, he took a good look around and grinned when he spotted a pair of familiar faces. “Master Wade! Herren!” He called out and hurried over to the couple. “It’s good to see you two. What brings you all the way out here to my new home?”

Herren grinned at him, “We thought we’d help out the new Wardens. You are going to need the finest armor your money can get you.”

“I suppose the money the King paid us had nothing to do with it…” Wade’s pouting voice came from the forge, and he made his way over to the table.

“Well, yes darling, but they do need us.” Herren pointed out. “Is there anything you need right now?”

Thomais nodded and moved to browse the armor and weapon selection, picking and choosing a small variety. “You can have these sent up to my room, right? I’m afraid I’m on a bit of a schedule today.”

Herren nodded. “Of course! Anything for Wade’s favorite patron. Though, he’s been a little pouty since the Dragon Scale. Do you think you could bring him something interesting to make him feel better?”

Thomais laughed. “Who knows what I’ll run into out there. If I ever slay any more dragons this will be the first place I bring them to. I promise.”

Anders stood back some, hiding behind Nathaniel a little, and Zevran stepped up to browse the weapons while Thomais chatted. When the two finished their shopping they waved goodbye and headed for the first person the Seneschal has told them to see, a young woman by the name of Sergeant Maverlies.

“Ho there, Commander.” She greeted them as they approached her. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but it’s possible there are still darkspawn in the Vigil.”

Thomais raised an eyebrow, and Zevran let out a chuckle. “I could have sworn we killed all of them.” The Antivan grinned.

She held up a hand. “Let me explain. You know Dworkin?”

“Yes, the dwarf with the amusing explosions.” Thomais nodded.

“That mad dwarf’s bombs shook the whole keep. Some of the deep cellars caved in and I suspect that there are pockets of darkspawn below, trapped. In time, they may dig their way out.”

Nathaniel and Anders shared an alarmed look as Thomais groaned. “Take me to the cave in Sergeant.”

The Sergeant led them down a flight of stairs and pointed to a large pile of rubble. “Here we are. The Vigil goes deep. Real deep. The hallways down here have been crumbling for years and decades. And that blasted Dworkin’s explosives didn’t do the structure any favors.” She was definitely put out by the explosions.

Thomais pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Do you know how the Darkspawn got here to begin with?”

Maverlies shrugged. “I dunno, but no one saw them approaching on the surface. Do you think they found a way up from below?”

Thomais nodded. “Well Zev, looks like we’ll be heading back to the Deep Roads.”

Zevran looked mildly alarmed. “That is where you said you encountered that… Broodmother you told me about past Orzammar?”

Thomais nodded and turned to Anders and Nathaniel. “Look… I don’t know what’s down here. But there’s a potential to run into something called a broodmother, especially in the Deep Roads. The Darkspawn… they take women and--”

There was a whimper from Anders and Nathaniel cut Thomais off. “I don’t think I want to hear anymore. But the Deep Roads… That’s where all the Dwarves live right?” Nathaniel chewed on his lip thoughtfully.

Thomais nodded gravely. “And where the Darkspawn flee to after the death of an Archdemon.”

Anders’ eyes widened. “Maker preserve us, if the tunnels go that deep…”

Thomais cast him a weird look before turning back to Maverlies. “Have them clear the rubble. We need to get down there.”

Marverlies nodded. “You heard the Commander! Put your backs into it!”

Once the rubble was cleared, the group set off down the tunnels. They ran into nothing until them reached an open room and came across a mabari. She was dirty with blood and who knows what else, and her fur had great patches ripped out of it.

Thomais reached out a hand to pet her; all too aware at how a mabari could react to anyone not its master. Luck was on his side today, however, and he succeeded in calming her down and pulling a scroll from her leg. Wordlessly he handed it to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel took it with a puzzled look and began reading. “It’s from Adria! She was like a mother to me. We have to save her!”

Zevran raised an eyebrow. “You are aware, Nathaniel, that if this Adria person is still alive it is likely that she has become a ghoul… or worse? Especially with so many Darkspawn running about.”

Nathaniel looked sick. “That is a possibility. But I’m not just going to give up and not try!”

Zevran shrugged. “I only wish that you do not get your hopes up. I would hate to see you crushed. You’re a necessary part of the team after all.”

Nathaniel nodded and the group forged onward.

After a clearing out a few groups of Darkspawn, they emerged into a room that looked like a makeshift prison. One short fight with ghouls later, Thomais headed over to one of the holding cells. “How long have you men been in here?”

“I don’t know!” The man seemed slightly hysterical. “Months? It’s been days since we had any food, please let us out! The Arl put us here!”

“Arl Howe?” Nathaniel’s eyes widened. “But this isn’t supposed to be a dungeon, what was my Father thinking?”

“You’re his son!?” The man cringed away from the gate.

“I’m not my father,” Nathaniel said quietly.

Thomais spared him a worried glance and opened the gate. “There. You’re free. Go to Veral in the Keep. Tell him the Commander has allowed you to get everything you need.”

The men nodded and ran for the exit.

Thomais stared after them for a moment before he let out a sigh. “If there are places like this all over the Keep, then there may still be men trapped. I’m going to have to speak with Veral and organize search parties.”

While that was going on, Anders explored the room further until he came across a door. Tilting his head at it, he tried the handle, only to find that it was locked. Wandering back over to the group, he tugged on Nathaniel’s arm. “There’s uh… a door. Over there, Ser. It’s locked though.”

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow but followed the mage over to the door, where he picked the lock and felt a cool rush of air when it opened. “Ah. The family crypt. My mother always forbade us from playing in the cellars. Now I know why…”

They heard Zevran chuckle. “Your cellar was always home to Darkspawn and ghouls then?”

“Of course not.” Nathaniel snorted. “But I’m sure she didn’t want us playing in the crypt.”

Zevran peered over his shoulder. “It’s a bit eerie in there. Why are we going in again?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Feel free to stay up there with the Commander. I’d like to pay respects to some of my ancestors.”

Anders curiously followed Nathaniel down the stairs, and as the rogue went to each coffin in turn, the mage studied a sack propped against a beam in the middle of the room. It seemed out of place and therefore worth investigating. He loosened the drawstrings on it and grinned as he pulled out a beautifully made bow. “Ser! Look what I found!” He trotted over to Nathaniel and held out the bow.

Nathaniel turned and took it in trembling hands. “Is this… what I think it is? It is! This is the Howe crest burned into the bow, right there, Anders!” He was smiling happily. “This is my grandfather’s bow! Or, rather, my grandfather was the last to use it.” He amended. “It was originally made for an ancestor during the Exalted Marches.”

“Why didn’t you have it before?” Anders asked curiously. “You look like it’s been lost forever.”

“My father… hid it away, I guess. I’m surprised he didn’t destroy it.” Nathaniel ran his hands over the wood. “I remember finding it before I was sent to the Free Marches. I’m glad to have it in my hands again. A bow like this deserves to be used.” He gave Anders a genuinely happy smile. “Thank you. I finally have something to show how proud I am of my family, and prove to people I’m not my Father.”

Anders flushed and shifted under the praise. “I saw it was beautiful and thought you might like it. I wasn’t aware that it meant something special to you.”

Nathaniel laughed. “Stop belittling your gift, Anders. It’s fine. I’m very happy to have it back.”

Anders nodded, and followed Nathaniel back up the stairs, where they moved on deeper into the cellar, fighting a few more packs of Darkspawn along the way, and finally emerged into a cave of sorts. There was a female figure in noble clothing hunched over and taking deep rasping breaths up ahead.

Nathaniel’s voice trembled as he called out, “Adria? Adria is that you?”

The figure turned around, and Anders flinched when he saw the glassy stare and peeling skin that he’d seen on the ghouls they’d fought before. He spared a glance at Nathaniel who looked rather sick.

“There… there’s some way to help her, isn’t there?” He pleaded, not looking anywhere but at the woman who used to be closer to him than his mother.

Thomais shook his head. “I’m afraid not Nathaniel. Would you like me to take care of it?”

Nathaniel shook his head violently. “No. Let me do her this one last favor.” As the ghoul opened its mouth to scream at him, he readied his bow, took aim, and shot. His aim was dead on as the first arrow went in her mouth and the next in her eye. The ghoul dropped, and Nathaniel ran from the cellar as if he had an archdemon on his heels.

Anders followed him, trying to keep up as the man fled from the passages. He still wasn’t all that fit though, and the rogue outstripped him easily. Anders had no idea where he was going, but decided to check their room first. When he arrived, very out of breath, he pushed the door open and saw his master sitting on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest, head bowed to them. Though he made no sound, the shake of his shoulders told Anders he was weeping. Wordlessly he crossed into the room and put his arms around Nathaniel murmuring some soft and nonsensical words in the other’s ear.

Nathaniel stiffened and shrugged the mage off of him. Not now. Not now Anders… He thought, and hunched into an even smaller ball.

“Ser…” Anders tried again to hug the man, “Ser, please. Let me take care of you. This is what I’m here for. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

“You don’t know what you’re offering Anders.” Nathaniel rasped out, voice thick with tears.

“I’m a slave, Ser. Remember? It’s a part of what I am. Being a slave means it’s a constant offer. I can give you comfort.” His voice trembled, and he rested his hands on Nathaniel’s shoulders, giving an encouraging squeeze.

Nathaniel raised his gaze at the mage. “So that’s it. This is duty. A part of who you are. You’re here because you’re obligated to be.” He unfolded from his position and took hold of Anders’ wrists in one hand, placing his other on the mage’s hip.

“S… S… Ser…” Anders’ breathing became irregular and he trembled violently. “W…why… w… what are you doing?”

Nathaniel shifted again, straddling Anders’ hips and forcing the mage down to the mattress, his grip pinning the other man's wrists to the pillow above his head. “You offered it to me, didn't you? It's why you're here? You said you would do anything I asked.” A thought struck him. “You want this don’t you? You’ve been putting those dreams in my head. Trying to get me to lose control of myself and do something… regrettable.” He leaned down, nearly nose to nose with the mage.

Anders’ trembles didn’t cease. His eyes pinched shut and he let out a soft sigh that was almost a sob. This isn't what I meant. I only wanted to... I was wrong. This is just like being back at the Tower.

Nathaniel finally seemed to notice what he was doing. He recoiled from Anders and back into his previous position with his head sunk between his knees. “Get out.”

“S…Ser?”

Nathaniel trembled with the exertion of keeping his temper and libido in check. “Andraste’s blood, Mage. If you don’t get out of my room right now, you’ll think the Templar were gentle with you.”

Anders’ eyes opened wide and he stumbled backwards off the bed, hitting the floor, and then scrambling out. Tears in his eyes, he headed for the kitchens and the larder, hoping Henri was there.

Nathaniel stared at the spot where Anders had sat. Good. Now he’ll stay away from me. He shivered and wept for Adria, and for what he nearly did to his charge.

Meanwhile, Anders wedged himself in a corner of the larder, crying and eating cookies until Henri found him and swept him into a hug. The Orlesian simply sat there, holding him, until the weeping had passed.

“Would you like me to help you to your room?” Henri said kindly, rubbing circles on Anders’ back.

Anders shook his head. “No, no. I… Can I stay in here? I won’t cause any trouble. I don’t want to go back there tonight.”

Henri nodded. “That’s fine. Fine. I will stay here with you.” He smiled. “You won’t be alone, alright?”

Anders stared up at the cook and breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you.”

Henri quirked a grin at him. “No problem at all. I will be back with blankets. Do not worry.”

Anders nodded, and stared blankly at the wood grain of the cabinet until Henri returned with the blankets and soothed him to sleep.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Chapter 6 is live
----------------------

Nathaniel stared at his breakfast miserably and pushed it around with his fork.

“Nathaniel Howe.”

He looked up at the sound of his name and paled. “Er… Good morning, Commander?”

Thomais’ face was impassive. “My study. Now.”

Nathaniel stood up and pushed his breakfast away, suddenly not hungry at all, and followed Thomais. Maker’s breath, he used my full name. They’re going to kill me. They’re going to dump me in the Deep Roads to fight Darkspawn until I’m killed.

Thomais pushed the door to the study open and nearly shoved Nathaniel inside, slamming the door shut behind him. “Now,” He stated, taking a calm seat at his desk, “do you want to tell me why I had a crying mage in my study earlier this morning, begging me ‘Don’t blame Nathaniel’?”

Nathaniel swallowed. “Er… I didn’t do it?”

Thomais raised an eyebrow. “That’s a load of manure. Tell me what happened when he went after you last night.”

Nathaniel sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “He came in. Offered… comfort. Said he’d do whatever I asked. Said it’s his job. I took it the wrong way. I… I thought he didn’t want to comfort me; that it was just what he was supposed to do, that he didn’t really care, and he was offering…” Nathaniel paused a minute and took in a deep breath. “I thought that he was offering intimate comfort.” He chanced a look up at Thomais’ face. “I pressed him. And then realized he was trembling with fear. Realized exactly what I was about to do to him.” His voice grew harsher. “And I pushed him away. Forced him out of my room.”

Thomais simply stood there, silently.

Nathaniel shook his head. “I don’t deserve this responsibility. I don’t deserve to be anywhere near him. Take the Maker damned papers back!”

“No.”

“What?! Andraste’s blood! Thomais, I nearly raped him!” Nathaniel surged to his feet. “Take the papers back!”

“Nearly.” Thomais shoved Nathaniel back into his seat. “The word you used is ‘nearly.’ Had you actually done it, you would be getting a personal visit from Zev. As it stands…” He tapped his chin. “You’re going to have to make this up to him. Get him to trust you, and for Andraste’s sake, don’t do something stupid like that again.” He smiled.

Nathaniel sat, struck dumb for a few moments. “What is it with you and people redeeming themselves?” He growled. “Some people cannot be saved. Some people cannot be changed from who they are, who their family is.” He snorted. “Some things just breed true,” he added bitterly.

Thomais started to laugh. “Alright. If our blood determines who we are then let me ask you a question.”

Nathaniel nodded warily.

“What can you tell me about my character?” Thomais spread his arms wide and grinned.

“You’re a selfless individual that believes the best in people,” Nathaniel responded promptly. “You look to the good in others even when it isn’t there. But you can be ruthless and stubborn when you feel you’re right.”

“Thank you,” Thomais said. “I think. That sounded an awful lot like a backhanded compliment. Now let me tell you something…” He leaned forward a little. “I grew up in an Alienage. I’m not a proud Dalish warrior. I’m Alienage scum that never would have gotten out if it hadn’t been for a disgusting ‘noble’ human that stole my cousin and the woman I was supposed to marry that day. My parents lived in the Alienage. As did theirs. And most likely theirs. If blood determines our character, shouldn’t I still be there right now?”

Nathaniel sat speechless.

Thomais smirked and tried another tack. “Now let’s take Anders for example.” He chuckled when he saw the panic flit across Nathaniel’s face. “He’s a charming man. A bit over eager to please. A good, gentle soul, I think.” Thomais sat back on his desk. “Now, if blood is who we are, if blood is what shapes us, then shouldn’t he be a raving monstrous animal with no regard for anyone’s life except his own?” He sighed. “Nathaniel, there’s a reason for everything that happens. Now go find him and prove to yourself that you are not your father.”

Nathaniel stared, open mouthed.

“That means get out of my office. I have work to do.” Thomais flapped his hand at Nathaniel and sat behind his desk with more paperwork. “Oh, and by the by, the Templar will be here in a week to see if we’re capable of taking on more mages. So you're also working with a deadline.” He smirked.

Nathaniel stood and returned to his room. Walking in a daze, the words Thomais had spoken tumbling through his mind. When he stepped into his room, he noticed something was off. The bed was made, his clothes were neatly folded in his trunk, and there was a cookie on a small tin plate. Frowning, he picked the cookie up and noticed it had a smile frosted onto it, and he couldn't help but chuckle. There was a messily scrawled note underneath it from Anders. “This may be easier than I thought,” he murmured and took a bite of the confection as he read the note.

“Ser!” A young voice startled him and he turned around.

There was a very young man standing in his doorway, holding a package. “These are the uniforms you ordered from the tailor.”

Nathaniel stepped over to the door and took the package, shooing the adolescent away with his hand. He set it on the bed and began inspecting the work. Satisfied, he went to put them away only to notice a smaller bundle at the bottom. With a curious frown, he sliced the thread holding it shut and pulled out a piece of short leather. His mouth fell open as he regarded the short vest that had been thrown in with the other clothes.

There was a soft sound of feet at the door and he spun around to see Anders standing there. The mage blinked, turned scarlet and started stammering. “B-but y-y-you said…t-told him…” As Nathaniel took a step towards him to explain, the mage turned on his heel and fled from the doorway.

Nathaniel threw the offending garment on the bed, cursing his luck. There was no way Anders was going to want to be anywhere near him now. Putting the other clothes back into the bundle, and stuffing the harem outfit in his trunk, he stepped over to the room Anders had been given and placed the clothes on the bed. Then, with a sigh, he went back to his own room to start planning how to get Anders to trust him again.

Three days passed with no success. Every time he’d tried to get close, the mage either bolted or was carted away by the cook for “help.” He was on the verge of calling the whole thing off when he heard soft murmuring from around the corner of the corridor he was currently stalking. As he approached the corner the noise separated into two distinct voices.

“I’m sorry, Ser. Was there something you needed?” Quiet, guarded, and respectful. That was Anders.

“Actually,” this was a voice he didn’t recognize, “There is something you can help me with.”

Nathaniel frowned, and to all appearances faded from view. When he knew they wouldn’t be able to spot him, he stepped around the corner to watch.

Anders was backed into the wall, clutching a scroll in one hand, while the other was pressed flat to the stone behind him. The owner of the strange voice appeared to be one of the Vigil’s guards and he was currently leaning over the mage, with one hand resting just beside Anders’ head. The mage was trembling, and licking his lips, likely due to nerves. “I, ah… what do you need then, Ser?”

The guard leaned a little closer. “Why don’t you come back to my room and I’ll show you, hrm?”

Anders’ eyes darted back and forth as if looking for a way out. “I n-n-need to g-g-get this paper to, uh, the S-Seneschal. The C-Commander is counting on me.”

“It won’t take too long.” The guard grinned. “Just an hour or two. No one will miss you for that long.”

“B-b-but the Commander said--”

The guard reached his other hand up to cup Anders’ face. “Come on. If you don’t come with me willingly, I’ll just have to drag you, slave.”

Anders whimpered and slumped in apparent defeat.

Nathaniel had seen enough. How dare he touch Anders like that! He slipped up behind the man and pulled him off of Anders as he faded back into view. Taking the guard’s shoulders in his hands, he slammed the other man against the wall. “In case you forgot,” he hissed, “in the eyes of the commander, that mage is a free man. So unless you want a dagger buried in your heart, I suggest you leave him alone. Or next time, take no for an answer.” He slammed the guard into the wall on last time for good measure and then turned to Anders. “I’m sorry,” He said quietly. “Let’s get this message to the seneschal, and then if you’re willing, I’d like to sit and talk to you.”

Anders nodded and hurried along the corridor, keeping at least two feet of space between them.

After delivering the letter, Nathaniel paused out in the hallway. “Where would you like us to go?” He said. “Someplace public?” He wanted to give Anders an out.

Anders’ face lit up in a grin. “Our room,” he said firmly, forgiveness poured into those two words.

Nathaniel let out a relieved sigh and led the way back. When they reached the room, Nathaniel sat on his trunk in an attempt to let Anders sit by himself on the bed. Anders smiled and shook his head, pulling Nathaniel with him.

Nathaniel sighed. “I… made a mistake. A huge mistake. I’m not going to offer you excuses.” He rubbed his forehead. “When I told the Commander what happened, I begged him to take your papers back.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned his back against the headboard. “I didn’t want to hurt you again, you understand, right? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Anders balled his fists into his robe. “I did do something wrong. And I did it today, too. I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t… say no.”

“None of it was your fault,” he repeated. “I’m too much like my father for my own good. You would be better off if you asked Thomais to sign your papers to someone else. Like the cook.”

Anders stared at him for a moment before his eyes watered and his bottom lip quivered. “You are not your father," he said firmly, before crawling over and flopping down in Nathaniel’s lap to give him a hug. He buried his nose in Nathaniel’s shoulder and sighed. “You’re a good person. You have to believe me. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have driven me away like that. You would have just hurt me.”

Nathaniel sat very still before he lifted his trembling arms and settled them around Anders, returning the hug. “If you say so,” He said softly.

“Of course I say so,” Anders replied. “You’re a good man, Nathaniel. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

Nathaniel chuckled and hugged Anders close. “You won’t be saying that in a few days.” The tone of his voice was amused. “The Templar will be here at the end of the week, to see if the environment is good enough to take on more slaves.”

Anders jerked away. “What?”

“According to our fearless leader, they're coming to evaluate us. That likely means seeing how well we do in taming troublemakers.” He sighed. “You and I are going to be what determines if Thomais gets to bring your friends here.”

Anders nodded slowly in understanding. He then let out a fearful noise and buried himself in Nathaniel’s arms again. “You won’t let them hurt me, will you?”

“Not without fight,” he assured the mage. “They won’t touch you if I have anything to say about it.”

Anders sighed happily. “Thank you…” he murmured.

Nathaniel patted his hair and smiled. Maybe I really am a good person…

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

PART1 of uber chapter o' doom #7


The rest of the week passed with Anders on pins and needles the entire time. When the Templar didn’t show up on the appointed day it made everyone in the Keep nervous. Everything had been prepared, the guest rooms were ready, and Thomais kept pacing in the courtyard until he was dragged off by a determined Zevran.

Later that evening however, a surprise of a different nature arrived.

Anders looked up from his baking with the cook with a horrified expression when he heard the fanfare. Barely a few seconds later, the door of the kitchen slammed open and Nathaniel rushed in, wild eyed. “King Alistair is here!” He blurted. “Come on Anders, Thomais wants us downstairs NOW!”

Anders dropped what he was doing and rinsed his hands in the small bucket Henri kept for such a thing, and then ran after his master. “What should I do?” He asked fearfully.

“Keep your head down. Don’t say anything unless spoken too, especially in the presence of his guards. They’re going to be Templar. And don’t do anything unless you see me give the okay first, or unless the King gives his okay.” Nathaniel picked up the pace.

Anders mulled over that in his mind as they sprinted along the corridors of the Keep, finally emerging in the main hall. Nathaniel barely reached his spot by the wall and Anders dropped to his knees to the right, when the door opened and Alistair walked in with a huge smile on his face. And no escort.

“Everyone, relax.” He waved a hand, “I didn’t make this a formal visit because I didn’t want any formality.”

Nathaniel sighed and relaxed a fraction of an inch, and of course, tensed up all over again when Alistair shot him a look, and then turned his gaze to Thomais and Zevran. “This is Rendon’s son, am I right, Thomais?”

Thomais quirked a grin. “Oh yes. And a Grey Warden now too. Broke into the Vigil before I got here, determined to lay traps and try to kill me. Took four of the Orlesian Wardens to bring him down.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “And you made him a Warden?” He clanked over to the large table and took a seat across from Thomais. “You seem to collect people that want to kill you, or who’ve tried to kill you.” He flashed a grin at Zevran, and then looked askance at Thomais. “Are you starting a harem, my friend?” He asked in a lighthearted tone.

The unexpected levity caught Thomais by surprise and he choked on his ale. Nathaniel, standing behind the table, also started choking, on his own saliva it seemed. Zevran and Alistair, on the other hand, burst into laughter while Anders tried to muffle his giggles.

After Thomais managed to get in a few good lungs full of air, he grinned back. “No, that one has his eye set on someone else I’m afraid. And this one would gut me if I even tried.” He gave Zevran an affectionate squeeze.

“I’ve become a very jealous man.” Zevran smirked.

“Well then.” Alistair’s grin faded nervously. “On to the purpose of my visit. After your letter, I wanted to meet this mage of yours and talk to him about what’s been going on at the Tower since…since Greagoir died. I know he kept the other Templar from doing anything extreme, but I don’t think he knew everything that went on in the Tower. In fact, I know he didn't. Honestly, after Irving died years before, I don’t think he much cared what went on,” Alistair mused.

Thomais motioned behind him to where Nathaniel was standing and Anders knelt on the floor. “He’s right behind me. Though, if you want to speak to him alone, you’re going to have to ask Nathaniel.”

Alistair stood up and held out his hand. “May I then, Nathaniel? I think it’s better if I spoke to him alone, if he’s willing to talk to me.”

Nathaniel looked down by his side with a sigh. “Are you alright with this, Anders?” He said softly.

Anders nodded and stood. “I’ll be fine,” He murmured.

“Good.”

“Wonderful then!” Alistair motioned to Anders. “Come along. I want to take this some place quiet. The library I think.” He looked to Thomais. "Is there a library?"

The elf grinned. "Anders can direct you."

Anders nodded and trotted along behind Alistair as they navigated their way through the keep. When Alistair motioned for him to take a seat, he did so, staring apprehensively up.

“I want you to answer me fully and honestly, alright?” Alistair stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t want you to hedge around the truth. I want you to tell me exactly how bad it was for you and all the others.”

Anders’ hands shook, but he nodded.

“Good. Now, I think I remember you. But I try very hard to not remember my days in training. You were there then, weren't you, Anders?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty. I-I remember you, though. You and Carroll were always nice to us.” Anders replied.

Alistair snapped his fingers in remembrance. “Yeees. I remember you now. You’re the one that kept trying to escape.” He grinned. “And now it looks like you’ve finally managed it. How does it feel? Are you happy out here?”

Anders opened his mouth, and then closed it, thinking. “I… Yes, Ser. I’m very happy out here. Nathaniel is kind to me. He never asks anything of me, and complains constantly when I try to perform my duties.” He blushed. “The cleaning and such. He… almost hurt me last week. But he pushed me away before he let his emotions get the better of him.” Anders squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s a good master. And the Commander said if anyone was too… forward with me I was to tell him, and… he would take care of them. Or Zevran would.”

Alistair nodded. “I see. What about life in the Tower? What exactly did they do to you, to make you want to run away so many times?”

Anders paled. “Please, Ser. I don’t want to talk about that. Not ever again.”

Alistair nodded grimly. “I think that answers that question.”

Anders trembled. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Ser. But, the memories of that awful place… No one deserves that,” He mumbled.

“You’re right.”

Anders looked up on shock. “I’m… what?”

“You’re right. No one deserves that sort of treatment. I should have done something to put a stop to this sooner.” Alistair started pacing. “I want your help. Thom has already applied for three more from the Tower, but I need to know who is doing the worst.” He rubbed his forehead. “I need to know which Templar have been… abusing their power.”

“Rylok, Ser,” Anders said softly. “And Cullen.”

“Cullen?” Alistair blinked. “But he was… what happened?”

“Rylok, Ser. She’s what happened. When she couldn’t…” He flushed. “When she found out I don’t like women, she stopped trying to be nice.”

Alistair nodded. “I see.” Then he sighed and sat loudly into a chair. “Bitterness does strange things to people.”

“To be fair, Ser,” Anders said, trying to control his own venom, “She was a right bitch before she found out she couldn’t bed me. Even if I’d been particular to women it wouldn’t have been towards her, in the slightest.”

Alistair laughed. “You’re right, of course. The woman is a harpy.”

Anders merely sat there, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something.

Alistair caught the gesture. "Was there something else? Another Templar you wanted to speak against?"

Anders shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. I...just wanted to...thank you. For what you did for me. And for the others."

Alistair smiled. "Well, I'm not quite done with that yet, am I? I should thank you, Anders. For speaking out. Now, I suppose I’d better get you back to Nathaniel before he sends out a search party, right?”

Anders nodded, relieved. “Yes, Ser.” He stood, and then followed Alistair back out into the main hall.

“Wait a moment…” Alistair stopped him with a hand before they reached the door. “What Thomais said, that Nathaniel already had his eye on someone, what do you know about that?”

Anders flushed scarlet. “I think he meant me. But he couldn’t have. Mas… Nathaniel doesn’t know of my preferences and if he did, I doubt he’d want a slave.”

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. “I see. Well, let go on then, shall we?”

“I… Yes, Ser.” Anders nodded and hurried back into the main hall.

The talking ran late into the evening, but when Anders finally yawned and curled up on the floor, leaning against Nathaniel’s leg, the rogue decided he’d had enough.

“It’s time for bed I think.” He stood and stretched, his back popping noisily. He held his hand out to help Anders up and then guided the poor mage off to bed.

Alistair watched them until the door was closed, then he turned back to Thomais and Zevran. “Let me get this straight, that’s Nathaniel Howe? He seems far too gentle to be spawned from that bastard.”

Thomais chuckled. “Yes, though he doesn’t believe it of himself. I’m sure Anders will help him figure that out eventually.” He leaned on Zevran’s shoulder. “They do have the right idea though. It’s very late and we have no idea when the Templar are going to arrive.” He smirked. “I’d like you to stay out of the way, my old friend. I want to see how they act when their king is not in attendance.”

Alistair nodded. “I can see why. Don’t worry though,” he hastened to assure them, “If they deny you, I’ll give the entire weight of my authority to get those mages out.”

Thomais stood and clasped Alistair’s hand in his. “Thank you, my friend. It’s good that we can move on.”

Alistair grinned. “I’ve grown. I understand now that what you did was necessary. I don’t want it to hamper our friendship anymore.”

Thomais smiled broadly and then was nearly hauled from the chamber by Zevran’s hand around his waist.

Alistair sat staring into the fire until he finally heaved himself up with a sigh and left to the guest rooms.

The occupants of Vigil were startled from their slumber early the next morning by the fanfare announcing the arrival of the Templar. Thomais was not happy. “They camped outside our walls until morning I’m sure of it.”

Zevran chuckled as he stretched underneath the covers. “Well, don’t keep them waiting. It’s you they’re here to see, after all. I’m going right back to sleep.”

Thomais glared at him as he pulled his clothes on. “I’ll remember this. Just you wait and see.”

“Promises, promises.”

Anders was already up and dressed, having steeled himself to the notion of wearing the...costume...Nathaniel kept buried in his trunk. Tugging on Nathaniel’s arm, he was all but pulling him out of the bed. “Come on, Ser! You’ve got to get up, they’re here!”

Nathaniel stumbled around the room, pulling on his clothes. “I swear they were waiting for the perfect opportunity to catch us off guard.” He grumbled. “Now remember, Anders, you don’t have to do anything they say without my permission first. Though, I’m sure they won’t force you into anything strenuous, what with the King being here and all,” he said as they sprinted through the keep.

Alistair, meanwhile, was still asleep, and dreaming of cheese.

As they all assembled in the main hall, bleary eyed and blinking away the crusted tears, they formed an arc in front of the doors, with the Seneschal and Oghren in the middle, Nathaniel and Anders to the left, and Thomais on the right.

The door to the hall finally slammed open, Rylok leading the way, flanked by two Templar. Carroll, on her left, he recognized, the other was unfamiliar to him.

“Welcome to Vig--” Thomais began.

“I demand to know why we were kept waiting!” Rylok interrupted with a glare. “You don’t seem to need these slaves so very badly if you can afford to keep us cooling our heels for so long.”

Thomais’ eye twitched. “I assure you, Ser Rylok, that we wasted no time getting you inside. You see, most of us were still abed when the horns announced your arrival.” His tone was polite, but anyone who knew him could tell he was irritated.

“Still abed at this hour?” She sneered. “My Templar are awake much earlier than that, and the slaves before them. Must be nice to lie about all morning, while other people are working hard.”

Thomais smiled blandly. “Yes, you could say that.”

Her eyes flicked over to Nathaniel and then to Anders who was kneeling at his feet. “Who told him he was allowed to be on his knees? Slaves are to be on all fours, like the beasts they are.” Her lips curled into a cruel grin as she saw his hands clench. There was no missing the way her eyes raked over him, taking in how little the vest covered his upper body and the fact that the material of the pants left little to the imagination. “Though, I must say, it’s a good look for him. He practices often, I take it?”

Nathaniel let out a wry chuckle. “I do believe I’m allowed to command my slave any way I want to, correct? And whether he spends any time on his knees or not is of no concern to you. It seems to me like you never saw him in this position anyway, to be so… delighted by it now.”

Rylok’s hand clenched and she went for her sword and then stopped, startled by the sound of Oghren guffawing. “He’s got you there!”

Thomais bit the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter under control. “Now, Ser Rylok, I believe you were here to take a look around and determine if this was a suitable place?”

“I came here to test if you could tame the troublemakers,” she snarled. “Hand him over to me for the day. If I determine he has been suitably tamed, then you will have your permits.” She smirked. “I even brought them with me.”

Thomais shook his head. “I can’t allow you to do that. Any commands must be relayed through his current owner, then Nathaniel will decide whether or not to relay your commands to Anders.”

“No!” Rylok snapped. “You are not going to keep me from my job. If this mage cannot behave under my commands then he isn’t tamed properly and could still turn on you.” Her voice turned sweet. “After all, you wouldn’t want to wake up with half of your… arm burned off, do you?”

Thomais folded his arms impassively. “We either do this my way, or we can send for the King and do this his way.”

“You'd really drag the king all the way out here for something as trivial as this? Just hand it over.” Rylok was clearly getting impatient with them.

“We can do what my way?” Alistair stood in the doorway, hair disheveled and wearing breeches with a loose muslin shirt. Seeing all eyes now on him, he yawned and continued into the room.

“Alistair!” Rylok’s lip curled. “What are you doing here?”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “King Alistair, remember that Rylok. I’m not an initiate you can bully anymore. And to answer your question, I was here visiting my friend.” He clapped Thomais on the back and grinned.

She took a step backwards and bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. My apologies. I will remember my place next time. But we are here discussing the suitability of this place to house more mages. The Commander won’t see fit to let me perform any tests to see if they have indeed tamed the one they already have.”

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t see any reason why your tasks would be any harder than Nathaniel’s. I am going to give him full discretion on what is appropriate for his slave though. Seeing as the man is his property.”

Rylok snorted. “If we're not doing this by our determined methods, then we're not doing it at all. I’ve no time for this middle-man nonsense. Come on." She motioned to her bodyguards. “We’re leaving.”

The group watched them leave with trepidation.

“Well. That didn’t work.” Alistair shook his head, looking apologetically at Thomais. “Looks like I’ll need to go to the Tower and get them myself. Though, without the papers, it’ll be hard, even for a king.” He grimaced.

The group remained together, quietly discussing what their next course of action should be. A few moments later Zevran entered through the front door, whistling. “That Templar lady left in a very big hurry. She bumped into to me and didn’t even apologize! But why do you all look so glum? I thought today was to be a good day, no?”

Thomais slumped, looking defeated. “Rylok refused test Anders. Not that I gathered it would have been done fairly anyway. On top of that, she took the papers for the others with her when she left.”

“You mean these papers?” He pulled a set of folded-up parchment from his pocket and held them up. “These look like ownership papers to me and if so, shouldn't be dropped so casually." He tsked. "Then again, it might be best if the king took a look at these. I’m not so familiar with your Ferelden legal terms.” He smirked.

Alistair plucked them from Zevran’s hand with a smile. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

Not even a minute later, Rylok stormed back into the hall. “I want them back! Now!” She glared around. “Which ever one of you slippery-fingered weasels has my papers, give them to me now!” She stomped her foot.

Oghren burst into another round of laughter.

She narrowed her gaze on Zevran. “You! Elf! You slammed into me; it must have been you that stole them. You dirty, little, knife-eared--”

Alistair cleared his throat, and tried his best to not laugh. "I'd mind the insults, if I were you, Rylok. You're not exactly endearing yourself to the Commander with them, nor to me. I gave the elves a place in the Landsmeet, did I not?”

Thomais grinned a little and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’d say our audience with the Templar is over now.”

Rylok took a step back. “You can’t just dismiss me like this!”

Alistair stood. “I believe we can. You aren’t the Knight-Commander, Rylok. Oh, and wait for me, would you? I’ll be needing an escort back to the Tower.”

Rylok paled and rushed from the room.

Nathaniel tapped his fingers on Anders’ head. “Do stand up, and follow me. We have a few things to talk about.”

Anders nodded and rose, ignoring his protesting knees. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Then he bowed, and followed Nathaniel from the room.

Alistair tapped his chin. “That’s a good man. When I return from the Tower with the other mages, I’ll be taking his collar off.”

Thomais narrowed his eyes. “About that. Alistair, would you follow me? I think we need to have a discussion, my friend.”

“Am I in trouble?” Alistair grinned.

“Not yet, I don’t think. The collar isn’t the issue. That’s a wonderful idea but,” He led the way to his study and shut the door behind them, "you and I need to have a little talk.”

Alistair nodded warily.

“After you get the mages, I want you to take one of them, Jowan, with you…back to Denerim.”

“What? Why? I don’t need a slave!” Alistair protested.

Thomais raised an eyebrow and tried a different tact. “Have you slept with Anora yet?”

Alistair sputtered and went bright red. “No, and don’t see what that has to do wit--”

“Why not?”

He coughed. “She’s taken up with that Cousland fellow. Fergus.”

“Mhmm. And are you still a virgin?” Thomais grinned.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that it's really your business, but yes, I am. I haven’t found the right girl yet.”

Thomais started chuckling. “I don’t think it’s a girl you’ll be looking for, my friend.”

Alistair blushed even harder. “You don’t know that! How could you know what I like? I like women. I know I do.”

Thomais put on a very serious expression though he was itching to laugh. “Lampposts, Alistair. You compared licking a lamppost to having sex. If that’s not a sign that you fancy things phallic, then I don’t know what would be.”

Alistair started sputtering all over again. “But I was talking about licking something. Just in general, that was the first thing to--”

“You’re only proving my point if ‘lampposts’ was the first thing to come to mind. Sorry, you're not going to win this one.”

“So why this Jowan?” Alistair interrupted, eager to turn the conversation.

Thomais sighed. “From what Anders has told me, Jowan is going to take his place as the Tower’s favorite. And even not knowing what they did to him, I can’t imagine it’s going to be easier on Jowan.” He rubbed his forehead. “According to Anders, he’s a calm sort. Easily spooked. He’s going to need a gentle hand and a quiet life and we can’t provide that here, Alistair.”

Alistair nodded. “I see. I wouldn't exactly call court life calm, but you're right. It's better than this." He grinned.

“Just think about what I said. And see if it makes any sense later. And make sure that you keep this poor soul well fed, and comfortable.” Thomais grinned and then shoved Alistair out into the hallway.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

part 2 of doomy chapter 7

------

On the other side of the keep, Nathaniel waited for Anders to enter their room before he shut the door and locked it. Anders gave him an odd look but said nothing. Nathaniel took a deep breath, then two, then started to speak. “I need you to tell me why she terrifies you so much.”

Anders shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t tell you what she did to me, what it means to be a favorite in the Tower.”

“Damn it, Anders!” A soft sound, nearly like a sob. “I need to know. I…” He took a deep steadying breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyelids fluttering shut. “She did something to you. Something that made you shake the entire time she stood there. I need to know.”

Anders shook his head again. “Why is this so important to you? Why do you have to know what she did to me? Do you just hate me that much that you need to hear every sordid detail?”

Nathaniel shook his head violently. “This is not about me,” he said and received a short bark of laughter from Anders. “This is about helping you! This is about getting you past everything that happened! I just want-” he choked. “Andraste’s blood. I just want you to be happy!”

Anders snorted. “Happy? No one wants their slave to be happy. Tell me, Nathaniel Howe, what do you really want?”

Nathaniel let out a shuddering breath. “Maker damn you, mage. I want you. I want you to want me. I want Anders, not ‘the slave.’ By the Maker, I don’t want to hurt you again! I want to be able to hug you and hold you and keep you as mine without this sense of duty or those damned papers getting in the way.” He took a step forward. “You want to know the truth? I like the power I have over you right now. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I enjoy the fact that I could order you to your knees right now and you wouldn’t resist me. You’d just… roll over and take it. But Andraste help me, I want you to fight. I want you to challenge me, I want…” He finally broke off and his shoulders sagged. “Maker help me because I’m just like my father.”

Anders stared. “Dominance. You crave dominance but over someone that can fight back. But not just a fighter, someone who cares for you… And not just for the sake of breaking someone.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Nate snapped his head up to stare right back.

Anders looked down from his challenging stare and balled his hands into the sheer fabric of his pants. “Well, fair is fair. If you're giving the truth, so should I,” he said quietly. “She never liked the fact that I never liked women,” he muttered. “She refused to think that it was just the way I am. She did her best to ‘fix’ me, to make me just like the others who lived for her every word.”

Nate’s eyes opened and he stared. “She…? That over-righteous hag!” His jaw clenched, and Anders saw the rippling of his cheek muscles.

“She never succeeded.” Anders took a step toward Nate. “When she realized she couldn’t, she threw me to the other Templar. You see, they never abused the women that way. Babies were too hard to explain away," he said softly. He reached a hand out, touched Nathaniel’s cheek. “You protected me from her,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t let her hurt me. Even when you knew she could have killed you for that comment…”

Anders was so close and he could feel the warmth of his bare chest through his own shirt. Nate took a step back, a sick feeling curling in the pit of his stomach, even as the lust flared and he felt his back hit the door. “You can thank King Alistair and Thomais for that. I just stood there and looked menacing. Anders, please!” He put his hands out and settled them on the mage’s shoulders. “Don’t do this out of some sense of gratitude. Please, don’t do this because you think I, above all people, deserve something.”

Anders tilted his head and smiled. “Are you afraid of me, Master?”

That one, damn word. He had to use that one word. Nate hissed, “Afraid? No… I’m not afraid of you Anders. I’m terrified.” Then he pulled Anders against his chest and pressed his lips to the others’ in a short, fervent kiss. He pulled back, half afraid the mage was going to bolt from the room again, but Anders just smiled lazily, almost catlike, and leaned forward to kiss him again.

“Maker’s breath, mage.” Nate let out a deep sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me.” Then he pulled Anders in tight to him, trying desperately to ignore the costume.

“You really aren’t your father,” Anders murmured quietly into his ear. “If the stories I heard were true, he would have just forced me by now. Forced me for the sake of having dominance over another living creature. So no, Nathaniel, you are not your father."

Nate couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped from between his lips as he held the blonde tight to his chest, daring to finally believe those words.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

We’re breaking from our regularly scheduled Nanders to take you live to the Kinloch Hold Circle Tower, where Jowan is er… eagerly awaiting us.
---------------------------------------

Jowan shifted, his manacles clinking against each other. Solitary confinement. A rebellious attitude, they’d told him. He’d only acted to protect the young Surana girl, one of his only friends, but that was rebellion. “Do not interfere,” they told him… And then they threw him in here.

He was huddled in the corner, clothing torn and tattered beyond repair. The only light filtered in from the small window near the top of the room. There was a grate in the corner that was to be used for relieving himself. When he’d been thrown in here the first night, he’d vomited everything they’d tried to feed him because of the smell emanating from that fetid hole. He shifted again and wished he could scratch the dried blood running down his arms, but the manacles made that impossible. The only thing he continued to thank the Maker for was the fact that he wasn’t attached to the wall.

Despite the squalor, his punishment had given him time to think, to come to an understanding. He understood why Anders had acted as he had. He protected us. He wasn’t just too stubborn to give in. It was misdirection, keeping their eyes on the troublemaker so they wouldn't roam our way. But now that buffer was gone and it seemed the task had fallen to him. I’m glad he’s out though. He deserved to finally get out of this place.

The door creaked open and light flooded the tiny space. A small bowl of water and some sort of gruel was kicked across the floor towards him. “Eat. We can’t have you dying on us.”

He crawled on his elbows and knees toward the water, draining the dish quickly before sucking down the food. It did nothing to ease the gnawing in his belly, but it was enough to keep him going, at least for a little while longer.

His guard threw him a disgusted look and closed the door with a clang, leaving the dishes behind.

He crawled his way back over to the corner, propping himself up with a soft sigh. He was too tired to care, too tired to even cry. And he was going to need his sleep, that being the only thing to give him strength for when the Templar returned.

A sharp kick to his side woke him abruptly from his dreams of freedom. He opened his eyes groggily to stare up at the two armor clad Templar in the room with him. Another swift kick to the ribs caused him to curl in pain.

“See?” one of them said. “Just like that. These mages are tricky, and even with their power suppressed they can still hurt you.”

“Yes, Ser.” A boot from his other side and he hissed in pain.

“Mages will do anything they can to get free, and that includes making deals with demons,” The first guard affected a dry tone, as if this was a lecture. Given how young the other sounded, maybe it was.

“Demons, Ser?” He heard the horror in the initiate’s voice and almost laughed aloud. Demons. The only demons here are the Templar.

“Yes. Demons. This one here is probably already an abomination.”

The voices of his parents assaulted his mind, Abomination, they called him. Monster. Abomination. Demon. Not my son. No, he wasn't an abomination yet, though it was getting harder and harder to fight off that temptation.

“This one decided to interfere with the punishments of some knife-eared bitch. So we dumped him in here, which means we can do whatever we like to him.” He could almost hear the sadistic grin. “It’s a pity the blonde got taken. He looked so much more like a woman than this one.”

There was a shocked silence and then an awed whisper, “How do you keep them from biting?” It would have been too much to hope that the newcomer would be appalled by the other man's suggestion. Obviously they'd started sharing "privileges" earlier with the new recruits, Lucky me.

A hand grabbed his hair and hauled him to his feet. “They don’t bite. They know what happens when they bite. Isn’t that right, maggot?” The hand in his hair forced him to nod and the thought of what was coming next caused embarrassed tears to slip down his cheeks.

He closed his eyes tightly to try and stop them. It’ll be fine. As long as I don’t resist, I won’t get hurt. I’m just a warm body. He shuddered. They’ll get bored and leave me alone. Comforting as that thought was, it also meant they'd be turning their attention to someone else. No. No, I have to resist. Make them want me so they won't go after her again. I can’t let them go after the only family I have. He swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat and thrashed weakly, trying to pull from the templar's grip.

“Look how… eager he is.” The one holding his hair dropped him and he shivered on the stone floor. “Don’t worry, mage, you’ll get what you deserve and nothing more.” He heard the metallic noises that he’d quickly learned to identify with the Templar simply removing their codpiece, and he whined pathetically.

The new one grabbed his hair and pulled him up onto his knees before forcing his head back down and placing a booted foot on his neck. “Like this then?” “Like this, then?” It left him horribly exposed with his hips high in the air, but he dared not lower them. They’d just hit him until he did what they wanted. The tears dripped from his eyes, mixing with the grime on the floor. Three heartbeats later, he was screaming and sobbing as the first Templar pushed his way inside without even the courtesy of spit.

“Shut him up!” The Templar behind him growled.

The boot on his neck lifted and he was hauled up by his hair again. “Open your mouth, mage!” The command issued from somewhere above his head. He pressed his teeth tighter together, screaming though them as the Templar behind him started thrusting. The back of a gauntleted hand crashed into his cheek. “Open!” the templar bellowed and he miserably complied, not wanting to be hit again.

The man’s length forced its way past his lips and the owner grabbed his hair in both hands, thrusting deeply, choking him. He stopped struggling and just shut his eyes, waiting for it to be over. This won’t be the last time. He thought miserably as he was violated from both ends. They’ll be back…

When the Templar finished with him, they merely shoved him to the floor like nothing more than the rest of the refuse. He curled up into a miserable ball in the pool of light on the floor and sobbed. Nothing I can do will change this. Monster. Abomination. I deserve this and I’ll do whatever they want, as long as I can keep them away from the little ones and my friends.

Hours passed. Maybe it was even days. Or maybe it simply felt like that because he hadn’t eaten again yet. His eyes opened at the sound of the door. There was a sharp intake of breath and a soft voice said, “What in the name of Andraste did they do to you?”

He looked up and blinked at the sight before him. The man had short cropped blonde hair and the brightest armor he’d ever seen, the metal seeming to glow. This had to be one of the Maker’s messengers, come to collect him. “Finally," he rasped out. “You’re finally here. Take me home to the Maker. I’m ready.”

Alistair stared at the pitiable sight before him and he felt his heart breaking. “No, I’m not…” He sighed and stepped into the cell and carefully gathered the poor man into his arms. “I’m here to take you, but to a better life. Anders gave us your name. I’m taking you and the Surana girl and the Amell boy with me today.”

Jowan blinked up at the face he’d mistaken for a holy messenger. “Alistair?” He let out a soft sob. “You came back to us.”

“It's King Alistair now," the blonde said quietly. “And you can be sure this will never happen again. There will be a full investigation launched and each Templar replaced with someone I can trust.” He trembled with barely suppressed rage. "Starting now."

“Ah.” There was a bitter self-mocking tone in his voice. “So the mighty rise higher and the fallen fall lower.”

Alistair didn’t comment, instead pushing himself up with Jowan in his arms. He turned and nodded curtly to Carroll. “I'm putting you in charge. I’ll be sending a full list of orders soon, Knight-Commander, but I trust you to know what to do: Get the filth out of here.”

Jowan struggled weakly. “NO! You can’t! They don’t deserve--” Then he snapped his mouth shut, waiting to be hit.

Alistair tightened his grip on his armful of wiggly mage. “Stop moving. You’re making it very difficult to not drop you." He took in Jowan's terrified expression and gave him a reassuring smile. "I wasn't talking about the mages. They're not going anywhere, so please, calm down.”

Carroll snapped his heels together, arms crossed at his chest. “You can count on me, Ser. This won’t happen again, as long as I’m in charge here. I’ll be sure to screen the initiates very thoroughly. If they show any signs of cruelty they’ll get hauled right back to the monastery.”

Alistair nodded to him again. “I give you full authority to transport anyone you see fit to Aeonar.”

Carroll grinned. “Yes, Ser!” Then turned around and started bellowing orders the startled Templar who were loitering around.

Alistair flagged down another Templar. “Bring me Amell and Surana. Now.” He then headed down to the docks to wait on his new charges. “Don’t worry,” He said softly to the man he was still holding, “you’ll be alright soon enough.”

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

I present to you, Chapter 9! The first bis of sexuality between Nate and Anders finally thank God.
----------------------------

Things managed to quiet down at Vigil after Alistair took Rylock and left for the Tower. Anders was very strict in his new duties, however. Determined to not let a day go by without reassuring Nate of his sincerity and honesty, he cuddled up to the man every night.

One of these nights, however, Nate seemed to be struggling with something, so he settled himself in his master’s lap and peered upwards through his bangs. “What’s wrong with you tonight? You seem so… on edge.” Then he grinned wickedly. “I could help with that tension, if you’d let me.”

Of that, Nate had no doubt. He leaned his head back, thumping it against the wall. “Anders," he sighed. “By the Maker, please don’t tempt me.”

“Why not?” He pouted and shimmied backwards a little to nuzzle Nate’s stomach. “You’d feel much better and so would I, I suspect. You’d not leave me wanting.”

Nate settled his hand on Anders’ head, stilling the others’ motions. “I’m sure I would,” he murmured, carding his fingers through Anders’ loose hair. “And you're right, I wouldn't be so cruel. But what I don’t understand is why you’re offering.”

Anders snorted and nuzzled a little more. “I’m offering for completely selfish reasons, of course. You’ve given me permission to do so. Am I not allowed to seek your attention anymore then?”

Nate sighed, but didn’t stop petting. “I didn’t say that, Anders. But- gah!”

Anders decided to stop the affectionate nuzzling and turned to even more affectionate nibbling. “Stop holding back. I thought we’d gotten over the misunderstandings.”

Nate tightened his grip long enough to make Anders stop. “I was trying to explain, and then you let your mouth loose on me," he grumbled, staring downwards. “Look, Anders, it’s just that I can never be too sure of your willingness, especially with the… collar… oh Maker’s breath!”

Anders had grown tired of listening to Nate ramble on about things that didn’t matter and took the situation into his own hands.

Literally.

Nate took in a deep breath. Anders was grinning at him impishly and had one hand cupping his balls and the other lightly gripping his erection, both actions performed through his breeches. It had been so long, too long, since he’d been touched and his hips shifted, almost unconsciously. He took in a deep trembling breath and then asked, “Are you sure?”

Anders laughed and answered with a gentle squeeze of his hands.

Nate took a strangled breath and loosened the fingers in Anders’ hair, gently petting the mage again. “If this is really what you want...”

Anders returned to his nuzzling, letting that answer the question. He unlaced the front of Nate's breeches and wrapped his fingers around the noble's heated length, earning him a groan and causing those fingers in his hair to clench again. “Nathaniel, how long has it been since you've had some kind of release?”

Nate flushed. “Er… Since I came home from the Free Marches, nearly half a year ago now…” he mumbled.

Anders let out a low whine and started peppering kisses all over Nate's hips. “You poor man. You definitely need this. Just relax.”

Nate started squirming away and little giggles escaped him. “Maker’s breath, Anders. Stop that! That tickles!”

Anders stopped with a mischievous look and dragged his tongue along Nate’s erection while his fingers danced over where he’d been bestowing kisses.

This was going too far. Nate's fingers twisted into Anders' hair, his other hand coming down to still those spidery touches. He could feel the mage pulling against his hold; feel the heat of his breath against his skin. “Anders,” he growled cautiously, “stop.”

Anders stared up at him and with a pout asked, “Why? You already told me I could…” A smirk. “Master.”

Maker’s breath, that word again! Nate felt his manhood twitch, and by the widening smirk on Anders’ face, the mage noticed it too.

“It's nice to know I please you.” Anders’ lips, a hair's breadth from Nate's skin, twisted into an even more wicked grin, leaving the last word unspoken, teasing him with it. He wrapped his lips around Nate's tip, easing down the rogue as best he could without breaking from the rogue's grip.

Nate’s eyes closed and he took in a deep, ragged breath. His hips shifted again and his grip loosened slightly, giving his silent permission for Anders to continue. But the mage pulled away and with a vaguely superior grin stated, “You know, on second thought, I don’t think I want to anymore.”

Nate’s eyes snapped open and he stared for a moment before tightening his fingers again and pulling Anders back to him. “You don’t just start something like this,” he rocked his hips upward into the mage’s face, “and then decide you ‘don’t want to.’ Finish what you started,” he growled.

Anders cheered silently at his manipulation and opened his mouth to accept Nate’s length. He slid his mouth all the way down, perversely proud at his lack of a gag reflex; the tip of his nose brushed the curly black hair at the Noble’s groin.

Nate’s toes curled into the bed as he felt the tip nudging the back of Anders’ throat. His mouth dropped open and he let out a low moan. “Oh Maker, Anders…” He fought the urge to roll his hips upwards again.

Anders grinned and pulled back, resting his hands on Nate’s hips. “Lose yourself, Nathaniel.” His hot breath puffed over the noble’s erection. “You need this.”

Nate stared down at the mage, eyes half lidded and arched his hips upward, fingers tightening almost painfully into the others’ hair. “Then stop lecturing,” he growled, “and get back to it.”

That damn smirk. “Yes Master.” And he descended on Nate once more, swallowing the other man to the hilt. Nate let out a strangled moan and his toes clenched up into the sheets again. His hips writhed, meeting Anders halfway, and he couldn’t stop staring into those deep brown eyes, which never stopped peering out from the fringe of blond hair.

Anders’ fingers skimmed over his hips again and Nate writhed even harder, trying to keep away from them, at the same time driving into that warm, wet mouth even faster. It had been so long, too long since anyone had touched him like this, and he lost it. Pulling the pillow over his face to muffle his yells, he shot his seed down Anders’ throat.

The mage swallowed everything eagerly, pulling away with a wet pop to nuzzle his cheek against Nate’s thigh. “I did well, then?” The little smile he wore meant he already knew the answer.

Nate pulled the pillow away from his face and took a ragged breath. “Come here,” he ordered.

Anders shimmied upwards and draped himself all over Nate. “Yes?”

Nate pulled him in for a deep probing kiss, before he pulled away and said, “You do know I’m going to repay you for that?”

Anders made a happy little noise and leaned forward to kiss the rogue again, when the fanfare sounded from the courtyard, announcing the return of King Alistair. He pulled back and groaned, burying his head in Nate’s chest. “Maybe if we ignore them, they won’t bother us?”

Nate chuckled and lazily petted Anders. “I doubt that.”

Not long after he spoke, there came a knock at the door. “Ser, the Commander is specifically requesting that the mage, Anders, be brought to the courtyard for a special healing project.” The unfamiliar voice at the door continued, puzzled. “He also told me to apologise for interrupting.”

Nate banged his head against the wall again. “Is nothing in this Keep secret?” He sighed. “Come on, Anders. Let’s go.”

Anders reluctantly climbed off of Nate, adjusting himself as he pouted mournfully. “Next time we’ll close the window.” He pointed to the offending piece of architecture. “That’s probably how the Commander heard you, Ser.”

Nate buried his face in a hand, even as he tucked himself away and slipped a shirt on. “Maker’s breath. Please don’t let me forget that again.” Then he strode out the door, ushering Anders in front of him.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

We're taking a small time out to bring you a response to a post on the Dragon Age kink meme website.
------------------------------

“Do you always wear robes, Mage?”

“Not when I’m naked I don’t.”

Nathaniel arched an eyebrow. Something about the tone in Anders’ voice called the mage’s heterosexuality into question. After all, there were no ladies present; it was just the two of them lounging outside the Keep. “I mean when you run from the Circle," he clarified. “Those robes make you very easy to spot.”

“So does the ‘I’m a mage’ sign around my neck,” Anders quipped, leaning back against the stone wall.

Nathaniel sighed and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Would you at least try to be serious? Those robes are a problem. One stray arrow and the Commander loses her only Battle Mage.”

“Then you’d better make sure there aren’t any stray arrows.” Anders pulled at one of the straps around his waist. “These are stylish, and they help focus my magic. I’m not going to wear anything else.”

Nathaniel snorted. “We’ll see about that.” He heard the mage laugh and there was no mistaking the way the other man’s eyes lingered on him. “What?”

“Do you always wear skirts?”

Nathaniel sputtered. “It’s light armor,” he said, his voice clipped. “It protects what’s vital, but it still gives me free range of movement. You can’t very well sneak up on someone wearing full plate.” He snorted at the idea.

Anders laughed again. “It’s still a skirt.”

“And you’re wearing a full length dress.” Nathaniel grinned and pointed. “Your point, mage?”

“That if you’re going to wear a skirt, I’m allowed to wear my dress.” Anders smirked and settled back into his seat.

“I don’t think so.” Nathaniel was on his feet and grabbing Anders by the arm. “Come on. We’re going shopping.”

-----------------------

Anders stared at the leathers he was trying on. “No. Absolutely not.”

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Why not? They’ll work fine.” He circled Anders, checking the straps. “And it fits as well. Not to mention it’s been enhanced with lyrium, so it will help in the same way your robes do.”

Anders made a whining noise. “But my legs! This… thing, is so short! Everyone can see my legs!”

Nathaniel stifled a chuckle. “It’s just your legs, mage. It’s not like you’re parading around in your smallclothes.”

Anders glared at him. “I might as well be! This covers nothing. I want my robes back. Now.”

Nathaniel smirked. “No. I already sold them to pay for these.” He gestured to Anders’ new clothes.

Anders’ jaw dropped. “You… what? You mean I have to walk through the entire city of Amaranthine like this, as well as the trip back to the Vigil?”

Nathaniel nodded, still amused.

“I hate you. So very much.”

Nathaniel laughed and clapped Anders on the back. “Come on then, Mage. The sooner we get going, the sooner you’ll be away from people leering at your legs.”

Anders huffed in irritation but allowed himself to be led away.

That night in the camp Nathaniel couldn’t keep his eyes off of Anders. Just… something about the mage in those leathers… and he caught himself thinking about those legs more than once.

Ander let out a whine as he was picking at the buckles of the breastplate. “Nate! Help me with this, please?”

Nathaniel was already out of his armor and lounging about in his sleepwear, so he stood and stretched. “Fine, fine. Keep your knickers on, mage.” He grinned and helped Anders with the buckles, finally getting the breastplate off with a small oomph. “There.” And he tossed it over to the side.

Anders let out a huge sigh of relief and flopped onto his bedroll. “Maker’s breath. I cannot wait to get back, so I don’t have to walk around like that until we actually go somewhere where there’s going to be trouble.”

“Why do you have such a problem with your legs, Anders?” Nathaniel sat across from him.

“I… don’t know. It’s just… legs! They’re mine, and I don’t want the entire world staring at them.” Anders blushed and turned his gaze away.

Nathaniel chuckled and said, “Not even for a special someone?”

Anders blushed even brighter. “If I had someone… maybe. But who’s to say h… she, would even be interested in my legs?”

Nathaniel smirked as he caught the slip up. “‘He?’ Mage? That is what you were going to say, wasn’t it? You’ve got your eye on someone?”

Anders laughed derisively, head still turned resolutely away. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He closed his eyes.

Nathaniel made the decision. Rising to his knees he scooted forward and chuckled. “Are you ticklish, mage?”

Anders blinked at the sudden change in conversation and turned back to face Nathaniel. “Ticklish? What? No!”

“I think you’re lying to me, Anders.” Nathaniel brushed his fingertips over Anders’ knees, skimming them upwards until he was leaning over the other man.

Anders stared up at him wide eyed, the blush returning to his cheeks. “No, I’m not lying. Definitely not ticklish.”

Nathaniel leaned a little farther down. “If you’re not ticklish, I wonder what then…” He crooked his fingers and drug his nails up Anders’ thighs.

Anders let out a little whimper and caught his lower lip between his teeth. “Nate… Nathaniel, please don’t do this to me.”

Nathaniel cocked an eyebrow. “I think it’s time for some honesty Anders.” He took his hands away from the mage’s thighs and settled them on either side of Anders’ hips, propping himself up. “Talk to me.”

“Nathaniel, please. Just… let me go. I don’t want…” He trailed off and closed his eyes, looking more than a little miserable.

Am I mistaken then? Nathaniel frowned. He isn’t attracted to me? He shook his head. That can’t be it. Does he think I’m just teasing him? His grin returned and he dipped his head down and pressed his lips against Anders’. “Maker’s breath, mage,” he said after he pulled back, “you think you’re the only man in the world that fancies what’s right in front of them?” He smirked.

Anders stared up at him, blinking. “I… you…?” His jaw closed with a click and he reached up and pulled Nathaniel back down into a kiss, lips slightly parted in invitation, fingers twining into the rogue’s hair.

Nate pushed forward, forcing Anders down on his back and breaking the kiss. With a wicked smirk he settled himself to the side of the mage and resumed his touches along Anders’ thighs. “I still don’t know why you’re complaining.” He traced the edge of Anders’ hip, listening to the mage’s breath hitch. “They’re just like those robes. Easy access. Isn’t that what you told Oghren?”

Anders shivered and his hands went to the buckles to pull the leather skirt off, but a hand on his wrist and a growl stopped him. Eyes wide he turned his head to look at Nate questioningly.

The rogue slipped his hand past the string of the smallclothes and squeezed gently. “Leave it on,” he said, his voice husky. “I want you to keep wearing it tonight.”

Anders let out a groan at the feeling of Nate’s hand and the tone in his voice. “Nate… I…”

“Shhh.” Nate pressed in for a short kiss. “Don’t say anything. Just enjoy.” The noble returned to his position hovering over Anders and sat back, finger trailing along the mage’s thighs again. Scooting backwards a little more, he nuzzled Anders’ knee, listening to the sound of the mage’s heavy breathing.

He pressed a quick kiss to the inside of Anders’ leg before he started licking and nibbling his way up the mage’s thigh.

Anders buried his fingers in the folds of his bedroll, arching his back and mewling as Nate nuzzled and licked the juncture of his groin and hip, tracing a path along his hipbone with gentle determination.

Nate changed from licking to gentle nips along Anders’ thigh, holding the mage’s hips down as the other man tried desperately to force more contact. “Just relax.” He chuckled. “All in good time Anders.”

“Maker’s breath, Nate!” Anders sat up a little and stared down, eyes half lidded. “Please!” he pleaded. “Just… please, touch me!”

Nate chuckled darkly. “I am touching you, Anders.”

Anders flopped back and tried to arch his hips against the force of Nate holding him down. “You know what I want.” He groaned. “Nate…” his groans turned into whimpers and he wriggled.

Nate smirked. “No, I don’t think I do know what you want.” He nipped again. “Tell me Anders.”

Anders let out a sobbing noise. “Nate,” he whined. “Please.”

Nate pulled completely away, much to Anders’ dismay. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Come on, Anders. I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to touch.” He practically purred the last word.

Fighting to catch his breath, Anders closed his eyes for a heartbeat before putting his gaze on Nate once again. Licking his lips, he started to speak and then found himself sputtering several times. “I...You. I want you to...I want your lips...”

Nate grinned and leaned forward once again. “And where do you want my lips, hmm?” He shifted around so that he could let his breath tickle against the skin of the mage's thigh.

Anders swallowed. “A-Around...me. I want your lips around me,” he finally managed to blurt out, feeling a rush of heat come to his cheeks.

Nate bit back a laugh. “Around you where, Anders?” He kissed the mage’s thigh, and flicked his tongue against the skin as he pulled away again.

Anders sobbed again. “Nate! Maker’s breath, you’re a bastard.” He huffed through his nose as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “A-around my,” Maker, he couldn’t believe he was saying this and his face flared again, “staff.”

Nate chewed on his cheek to keep from laughing. “Your,” his lips twitched, “staff it is then.” He shifted forward and took the head in his mouth, gently swirling his tongue around before easing his mouth down the shaft, lightly scraping his teeth as he went.

Anders made a strangled noise and arching his back, trying to meet Nate’s bobbing halfway, but those hands on his hips prevented that, leaving him at the rogue’s mercy until he was a sobbing, whimpering mess. He buried his hands into Nate’s hair trying to urge the noble into a faster rhythm, but Nate was stubborn and kept at his slow pace.

Nate pulled back for just a quick moment, slicking his fingers with saliva before returning to his task. Nudging Anders’ thighs a little farther apart, he reached with his free hand and eased a finger past the mage’s entrance. Anders barely noticed the intrusion until a second finger was added, making him hiss.

Nate hummed apologetically, and scissored his fingers, stretching Anders, looking for… Aha! He pressed and Anders let out another sobbing cry as his hips arched involuntarily upwards. Satisfied with his work, Nate pulled completely away, unlacing his breeches and hovering over Anders again.

Anders cried out with the sudden loss and reached up to pull Nate in for a kiss. When Nate pulled back again, Anders whimpered. “Why did you stop?”

Nate rocked his hips forward a little, nudging at Anders’ entrance. “I wanted to ask you, do you truly want this?” he rasped. “Anders, I need to… make sure.”

Anders gaped at him and let out a huff that was almost a laugh. “You put me through all that, and you have to ask? Andraste’s knickers, man. Of course I want this, I want you.” He rocked his hips to emphasize his point.

Nate let out a sigh of relief and lubed himself up as best he could with his saliva. “When we get back to the Vigil,” he said, starting to ease himself into Anders, “I’m going to get us some oil.”

Anders hissed at the sensation, because Maker’s breath, it hurt! But when Nate drew out, angled his hips and made a long, smooth thrust he forgot all about his pain because the rogue hit that spot again.

Nate wrapped his arms around Anders’ hips, shifting them upwards to get an even better angle, before setting a torturously slow pace for both of them.

Anders wiggled, groaning. “Nate, oh Maker, Nate. Faster,” he whimpered. “Faster, please…”


Nate grinned, but obliged him by picking up the pace. He pulled one hand away from Anders’ hips to take the mage’s erection in his hand, roughly stroking the heated flesh. He smiled when the blond whimpered even louder, biting his lower lip and rocking his hips in time with the rogue’s thrusts.

Nate watched as he felt Anders stiffen, felt the warmth of the mage’s release on his hand, and felt muscles clamp down around him, but it was the other man howling his name that did him in. He cried out incoherently as he followed Anders into orgasm before he slumped bonelessly forward.

Anders groaned when Nate pulled out of him and settled himself to the side, picking and pulling at the straps of the skirt before helping Anders kick it away. He rolled onto his side when prompted by the noble and smiled as he snuggled backwards into Nate’s embrace.

“See?” Nate’s breath tickled his ear. “The leather’s not so bad, is it?”

Anders let out a small chuckle before replying, “Not if they keep getting responses like that from you…”

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

another time out. This time for a new multichapter story.

----------------------------

Alistair thumped his head onto his desk with a sigh. There was just so much paperwork. He hadn’t realized becoming the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden meant filling out so many forms, and dealing with so much politics. He rubbed his weary eyes and sighed again, filled with a whole new appreciation for Duncan.

A soft knock at his door had him straightening up, tidying his workspace a little before he cleared his throat and said, “Come in.”

The door swung open and Alistair grinned, rising to meet his unexpected guest. “Zev! It’s good to see you again. I thought you’d left for Antiva permanently.”

Zevran grinned back. “How could I leave when you’ve got all this responsibility as the new Commander of the Grey? Completely unwanted as well, I’m sure.” Zevran walked over and hopped up on Alistair’s desk. “And so much paperwork too. You need an assistant.” He laughed.

Alistair smiled crookedly. “I haven’t got the time to find an assistant, Zev. I’ve been too busy trying to get caught up. Every time I’m nearly finished with a batch, they drop more off and swamp me again.”

Zevran peered at Alistair’s face. “Have you been sleeping? Can’t have you go working yourself to death. Who would the next Commander be then? You’d leave your comrades completely unprepared.”

Alistair snorted. “I’m sure they’d managed fine without me, Zev.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “Are you volunteering to help me with the paperwork?”

Zevran mock sighed. “I suppose I am.” Then he tutted. “You need something to relax you, my overworked friend. How long has it been since--”

Alistair’s face shuttered, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. “You know the answer to that, Zevran.”

Zevran sighed and hopped off of the desk. “You need to move on, Alistair,” He said gently. “It’s been two years since--”

“I know how long it’s been,” Alistair said coldly. “I don’t need you to keep reminding me. I don’t need to move on. I’m not going to disrespect his memory that way.”

Zevran shook his head. “You are disrespecting him by not moving on. He would want you to be happy. You know this.”

Alistair frowned. “If all you’re going to do is lecture me about my lack of a sex life, then I think you’d better leave.”

Zevran snorted. “Not hardly. One of your Orlesians is bringing in a face you will recognize. I suggest you control your temper.”

Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “Who is it?”

Zevran grinned. “Now where would be the fun in telling you? Besides, it's not my job. Yet."

“Zev…” Alistair shot him a look. “Fine, you can stay and help.” At the Antivan's grin, he groaned and let his head fall to the desk again. “Maker’s breath, you’re here without a lover in a Keep full of young people who don’t know how to deal with you… Zev? Do me a favor and try to not upset too many of my recruits. Their unity is far too important for petty jealousy to start cropping up.”

“Me?” Zevran smiled innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Alistair. How dare you insult my virtue in such a manner.”

Alistair picked his head up a little and raised an eyebrow. “Virtue? You?” He snorted. “If you still have virtue left, then I’m the Empress of Orlais.”

Zevran bowed low and said, “I must bid Her Majesty a good day then. The recruits eagerly await my presence,” and then he sauntered out the door.

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, before standing and shoving the paperwork away. There’s no way I’m going to get any more work done.

“Ser?”

A light tap on the open door and he flicked his eyes over in that direction. “Ah, Remy.” He leaned against the wall with a sigh. “Do you have any more candidates?”

“Just the one, Ser.” The Orlesian Warden bowed and waved a man into the room. “I found him defending a group of children from a Darkspawn attack. After we got the children somewhere safe, I decided to bring him back with me.”

Alistair took one look at the man being ushered in and lost it. Before he knew what he was doing, his legs carried him over to the new entrant and he grabbed the front of the man’s robe and slammed him against the wall. “Jowan,” he spat, “How dare you show your face again, you filthy blood mage?”

Jowan stared up at Alistair and clenched his jaw before saying, “I came here to make a difference. I’m tired of running; I want to do something to help! I have the chance to do that here!”

Alistair felt his hands being pried open by his second-in-command. “Ser, we could use him. If he wants to make himself useful, I say let him.”

Alistair whirled on the short blonde, “Do you have any idea what this… maleficar did?” His hands trembled and he clenched them into fists again.

“Does it matter?” Remy asked him quietly. “We need all the help we can get. If he fails the Joining, then that’s the end of it. But if he succeeds… that means he was meant to be here. Just give him that much of a chance, Commander.”

Alistair turned his back on them both. “Fine,” he snarled. “Just get him out of my sight, and put him through the ritual. Today.”

Remy crossed his arms at his chest and bowed before pulling Jowan from the room and heading for the main hall.

Jowan kept stealing glances back at Alistair through the open door until Remy had pulled him around the corner and shoved him away.

“Why did you come here?” the blonde mage asked quietly, as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot.

“It’s like I told him,” Jowan said quietly, “I need to make up for everything that I’ve done. I made some stupid decisions in my past, and I need to prove that I’m not like other Maleficar. I’m not a monster.” Jowan slumped back against the wall. “I haven’t used my blood magic since the day I escaped from the Tower. And I only did it then because they were going to take Lily to Aeonar. I tried to save her life and she rejected me.”

Remy nodded. “What else? I know Alistair wouldn’t be this upset for just a Maleficar. What did you do to him?”

Jowan laughed humorlessly. “Nothing to him. Arl Eamon’s wife, the Lady Isolde, hired me to tutor her son, Connor, in secret. Just enough so that he could hide and not be taken to the Circle. I was under orders from Loghain to poison Arl Eamon. He told me if I did this for him, I’d be accepted back into the only family I ever knew. People who cared for me. I had a father in Irving and I wanted to go home.” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “If your regent told you that a man was a threat to the security of your nation, you’d follow his orders too. Especially if he told you, you could go home when all was said and done.” He laughed again. “But that isn’t even the worst part. They had to kill Connor because the boy made a deal with a desire demon so that Arl Eamon would be spared.” He opened his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “They had to kill the boy. He was an abomination, and they had no other choice, since Helios told me to run. If I’d been there… I don’t know. I could have done something to help. Something to spare the boy’s life.”

Remy stood there silently as he absorbed Jowan’s tale. “It looks like life had given you the short end of the stick. You’ve been treated worse than a Mabari’s toy.” He grinned. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

Jowan pulled away from the wall and he blinked. “What about the Joining?”

Remy grinned wider. “That’s the drink.”

Jowan laughed and followed Remy to the main hall. “Do you really believe what you said back there? That… if I make it, I was meant to be here?”

Remy nodded. “We’re going to make this private, so the other recruits don’t get jealous that you’re moving to the front of the line, so to speak.” He picked up the goblet and nodded solemnly at Jowan. “There’s only you here today, but the words I speak next have been spoken since the first joining, and I will not betray tradition. Join us brothers and sisters… Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.”

Jowan swallowed heavily and took a deep breath. This is my chance. If I live I can prove to him that I’m not the same person.

“Jowan.” Remy held the goblet out. “From this moment forward you are a Grey Warden.”

Jowan took another deep breath before he reached out for the goblet. “Blood. That seems oddly appropriate.” And he drank. Feeling the liquid burning its way through his system he cried out, before being swallowed up by darkness.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Now back to your regularly scheduled "Magic's Slave"

--------------------
(fixed the problem! )

Alistair maneuvered the cart into the courtyard of the Vigil, careful to not jostle any of his riders. Jowan sat up front with him and Helios Amell and Tia Surana cuddled together in the back. The two red heads were content to sit back and ignore the world around them.

Thomais stood somberly in the courtyard and called one of the guards to deliver a message before turning back to Alistair with a simple, “Well?”

“Worse than I thought. Carroll is initiating a sweep now. The Templar that were abusing their power are all being shipped off to Aeonar, and he’s replacing them with people he trusts.” Alistair rubbed his face. “I’m just glad I got there when I did.” He glanced over at Jowan. “He was in a right state when I arrived.”

Thomais nodded and then stepped out of the way as Anders came barreling down the steps and skidded to a halt right in front of the carriage. “Jowan!” he cried out with some relief. “Andraste’s tits, I’m glad they got you out of there my old friend.” Then he grinned at the couple in the cart. “I see that romance has blossomed while I was away. Helios, you sly dog.” Anders chuckled.

The human turned around in the cart and gave him a soft smile. “Blame Tia. She was the one that snared me.”

The elf girl smiled shyly back. “It’s good to see you again, Anders. Don't mind us, though. Jowan needs your help more.” Her gaze flicked to the other mage.

Anders nodded and his gaze went back to Jowan, taking in the dirt and cuts that covered the other man’s body. “Alright, there’s no way I can heal these with all this dirt. Come on, my friend. Let’s get you to the tubs.”

Jowan didn’t speak, but his gaze flicked over as Alistair stepped out of the cart and folded his arms. “I’ll take him. He’s my charge after all, and my responsibility,” the ex-templar stated and before anyone could object, he scooped Jowan up from the seat and headed up the stairs.

Anders raised an eyebrow, but wisely kept his mouth shut, even as he noticed the knowing smirk on Thomais’ face.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Alistair set Jowan down on the edge of the tub. “Alright, hop in. I need to find someone that can get you some decent clothes.”

Jowan shivered, pulled off the rags he was wearing, and dumped them on the floor. He’d just managed to ease himself into the hot water when Alistair returned holding a bundle of clothes.

“Ah, good. You’re already in.” Alistair grinned and started removing his own clothes. “Scoot over. A week on the road and a bath will do me a lot of good as well. I smell like horse.”

Jowan retreated to the other side of the tub, pressing his back against the stone and pulling his knees up to his chest. Eyes pinched shut, he could feel himself trembling, waiting for the grabbing of hands that he'd come to expect. When those touches never came, he risked cracking an eye open. Alistair was on the opposite side of the bath, soaping himself up, but the ex-Templar didn't seem inclined to make any move toward him.

Alistair caught him staring though and he quickly lowered his eyes. The water sloshed and he whimpered a little.

“Here. You’re going to need help washing your back.” Alistair murmured softly. “It’s going to hurt though, I’m sorry…” He trailed off and began to gently wash the grime from Jowan’s back.

The mage wrapped his arms around his knees and trembled the entire time, lower lip caught between his teeth as he muffled his whimpers of pain. It wouldn't do to cry out. It never helped. In fact, there were times that made it even worse. And part of him wanted to trust Alistair, it really did. He'd never hurt him before. But being like this, there were just too many memories that even the few pleasant ones he had couldn't make the others go away.

Alistair eased off on his tending, feeling the tremors that fluttered beneath his touch. Even as gentle as he was trying to be, there was no true way to rinse Jowan's wounds without causing him pain.

And Maker's breath, listening to him muffling himself. Despite Wynne's sometimes scathing tongue, even he'd been allowed the luxury of complaining about being wounded. Jowan seemed terrified to make so much as a peep.

“It's all right for you to cry,” he whispered. “You used to feel safe enough to let your guard down around me before. I hope...” He swallowed. “I hope that hasn't changed. It hasn't for me.”

Jowan pressed his head to his knees and took several deep breaths before saying anything. “I can’t,” he said softly.

Alistair sighed. “Alright.” He brought the cloth up once more, now soapless, and used it to carefully rinse Jowan’s back. “I’d like to change that one day, though.” And then he moved away again, leaving Jowan to finish washing himself.

Back in the other corner of the tub, Alistair finished rinsing, and climbed out. “I’ll be waiting outside the door when you’re done. After you’re dressed in these,” he indicated the bundle, “just let me know and we’ll get you to the infirmary.” Alistair dressed in his old clothes, wrinkling his nose at the smell, before he sighed and stepped out

Jowan frowned. That probably means he wants me to hurry up. Ignoring his stinging wounds, he scrubbed down quickly, finding a measure of comfort in watching all of the filth floating away in the water. After that, he washed his hair twice before he took a few wobbly steps out, dripping water all over the floor as he looked for a towel.

He sat heavily on the edge of the tub and grimaced as he dried himself off, the now opened wounds discoloring the fabric. He grabbed the clothes from the chair they’d been set in and carefully dressed in the breeches, leaving the shirt for after he was healed.

Alistair stared at Jowan as the mage emerged into the hall. “I thought you would have taken longer,” he said as he cleared his throat and tried to not blush. I do not like lampposts! “Though I suppose you are eager to be healed. Come on then, watch your step, and if you need help, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Jowan nodded and sort of hobbled slowly along behind Alistair for a few minutes, finally not being able to hold back his pained grunts any longer. Instantly Alistair was at his side, supporting him, helping him walk. “There’s no need-” He began.

“Yes, there is,” Alistair said quietly, absently petting Jowan’s hair. “You need the help, and it’s my responsibility to help you now.”

Jowan shook his head and sighed. I can only imagine what the price is going to be for this later.

Alistair helped Jowan hobble his way to the infirmary. However, upon arriving, the door was closed. Alistair raised an eyebrow and knocked. There was a small scuffling noise and some muffled curses heard and then Anders opened the door, looking flushed. “Finally! Where have you two been? What took you so long?” The blonde ushered them both inside.

Alistair took a good look around the room, noting the stacks of beds and blankets, before his eyes settled on Nate, who stood in the corner, nonchalantly cleaning his fingernails with a knife. Alistair’s eyes widened as he realized what the scuffling noises must have been and a light blush infused his cheeks.

Needing to focus his thoughts elsewhere, Alistair helped Jowan over to the bed, where he immediately began hovering behind the blonde mage.

Anders shot him an annoyed glance as he started to work on the worst of Jowan’s wounds. “Could you please not stand so close?”

Alistair smiled sheepishly and stepped back for a few moments, though he was soon inching his way closer again. The first time Jowan truly hissed in pain, he nearly shoved Anders out of the way.

Anders let out an exasperated sigh. “Nathaniel? Can you please get our king out of here before I’m guilty of regicide?”

Nate chuckled and laid a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Come on, Your Majesty. He’s in good hands.”

Alistair’s face contorted into a worried frown before he allowed himself to be led from the room. After Nathaniel left him at the doorway though, he paced back and forth, jumping at every sound. A particularly loud whimper had him trying the door, only to find it locked. Alistair took a deep breath and then kicked the door, splitting it down the middle right before he dashed into the room.

Jowan froze at the sound of the door breaking, immediately tensing, even under Anders' careful touch. Eyes wide, he shrank back against his fellow mage, barely catching the startled whimper that passed his lips.

Anders, on the other hand, gave Alistair an irritated look, one arm circled protectively around the brunette beside him. “While I understand your need to protect, my king, don't you think this is taking it a little far? He’s fine. See? You should know there's a little pain that comes with healing."

Alistair opened his mouth before realizing he was right. Jowan looked completely healed. Clacking his jaw shut, he flashed them a sheepish grin and ran out of the room.

Jowan turned his wide-eyed stare on Anders. “How can you talk to him like that? He’s the king and you just sassed him! He could have you executed for no reason! Don’t you remember what the Tower was like?”

Anders snorted. “Everything I’ve heard about him says otherwise. What were you just saying about how he treated you on the trip back?”

Jowan flushed and mumbled, “He did his best to treat my wounds, with what he had. Wouldn’t even let me walk anywhere.”

Anders grinned. “See? That's not the type to execute for no reason. And that makes me all the more certain he’s not going to do anything to you, either." Anders took to studying his fellow mage again.

"What?" Jowan asked with a soft chuckle, noticing the scrutiny.

"There’s something different about you. I just... can’t place it.”

Jowan stole a glance at the doorway and then lowered his voice. “While you were in solitary that last time, I discovered a new type of magic." There was excitement in his hushed whisper. "It… bypasses mana."

Anders furrowed his brow. “It...what? That would mean you could use whatever this is without being restricted.”

Jowan nodded. “It still has a cost, though. Life energy. Blood. And how much depends on the spell that you want to use. I discovered it after the Templar had us study the Entropic arts. After using life drain on the twentieth rat, it seemed logical that there should be a next step. And there was! I spent some time playing with the technique, but I think I have it down now.” Jowan grinned nervously at his friend but there was no denying his excitement at the discovery.

As he listened to Jowan speak of the spells he'd managed to discover through this new magic, Anders realized something about the nature of the spells. He bit his lower lip and glanced through the doorway, where the splintered remains of the door still clung to the frame. “You could have used what you learned to escape. Why didn't you?"

“Because you weren’t there anymore.” Jowan gave him a half smile. “You… protected us and watched over the rest of us by keeping their attention on you. I couldn’t do any less. If I escaped, who would have protected Helios and Tia? I had to stay, if not to protect them, then to protect the little ones. You remember how the Templar’s… appetites were.”

Anders embraced his friend, knowing full well what he would have had to have done to take his place. Not wanting to keep the conversation heavy, he chuckled. "It's too bad Mr. Wiggums wasn’t there to help. Or at the very least, keep you company.”

Jowan blinked. “Mr. what?”

“Mr. Wiggums!” Anders grinned. “He was my cat. Well, sort of. He kept me company in solitary a lot, and would sometimes bring back mice. I miss that cat…” Ander sighed fondly and sniffed.

“What… happened to him?” Jowan asked cautiously.

“Turned into a rage demon. Took out three Templar, though. Dear old Mr. Wiggums.” Anders sighed again. “I've thought about getting a cat while I'm here. One that's truly mine. But I haven’t had the time to see if there's any about the Keep that I could take in.”

Completely invisible to the mages, Nate slipped away down the corridor. Anders likes cats, does he? He's right. There's bound to be one somewhere here in the Keep. I’m sure I can find him one...

Not long after Nate departed on his search, Alistair was back in the doorway, clearing his throat to get their attention. “Anders, a word?”

Anders hurried over to the doorway. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Hold still.” He put his fingers on Anders’ collar, muttering quietly to himself. A few seconds later, there was a soft “pffft!” noise and the collar broke into pieces. At the mage's shocked look, he found himself unable to keep from grinning. “Congratulations, Anders. You’re a free man.”

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Chapter 2 of Reason, whee!
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Hot. He was unbearably hot. The inside of his armor a sauna and the moisture in the air caused him to choke every time he took a breath. Yet he was still prodded forward. The lash of a whip and the roar of his Alpha’s command had him pushing away every single ache.

He was a Hurlock. And he would not let the heat of this petty swamp ruin what he was made to do. Maim. Kill. Infect. Poison the land and ruin the creatures that walk the surface. Spread the taint to all living things. Lifting his hands he sent a fireball raging at the decrepit buildings that stood in his way.

When he saw a ragged band of humans, he laughed and raised his hands again, for today he would feast well.

Jowan jerked himself awake, hand pulsing, ready to strike down whatever menace he… could no longer feel. He dropped his hand and stared around the room. Remy sat propped up in a chair, chin to his chest, snoring gently.

Pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, Jowan groaned. Maker’s breath. Why does it taste like something died in my mouth? He threw the covers off of his legs and wobbled over to the small pitcher and basin, splashing water on his face and swishing his mouth out with a swig.

The sound of the porcelain knocking together woke Remy from his snooze and he blinked wearily at Jowan. “I see you’re finally awake,” he said softly. “Congratulations on surviving the Joining. Many brave men and women have failed.” He stretched and stood. “And now you get to learn exactly what it means to be a Warden.”

Jowan wobbled back over to the bed and sat down, heavily. “What it means? Is there more to being a Warden than just the blood and the ritual and killing Darkspawn?”

Remy left out a soft laugh. “Oh, there’s much more. The first thing you’re going to notice in an increase in appetite. We keep the larder well stocked, so you’re more than welcome to have anything you want, just about any time you want.” Then he frowned. “Except for the three cool rooms that are especially marked for the Commander. If you value your life, you won’t eat the cheese.”

“The…cheese?” Jowan let out a chuckle that died when he saw the look on Remy’s face. “What? You’re serious? What would he do?”

“The Commander has put far too many recruits through training hell for making off with some of his more expensive cheeses.” Remy shivered. “And he would tell us that was the standard for becoming a Templar.”

“I take it you know from experience then?”

Remy rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “My first night here last year. I woke late at night, hungrier than I’d ever been before, and I saw this… moldy hunk of cheese. Thinking it was bad and that no one would miss it, I decided to eat it.” He chuckled. “Apparently it was a gift from that Antivan friend of his, and it was supposed to be that way, and it was expensive and rare.” He grimaced. “It didn’t even taste all that good.”

Jowan laughed. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind when I get hungry.”

Remy smiled weakly back. “Well, the next thing you should know is that you’ll be having nightmares. These will be nowhere near as bad as if this were still a Blight. The blood…”

“It’s the taint, isn’t it?” Jowan interrupted. “The blood carries the taint, and when we drink the blood, we become tainted ourselves.” He snorted. “And yet he has the gall to condemn me for the way I harness my magic. Blood is powerful in all its applications.” He rubbed his face. “I apologise. Do go on.”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Yes. The taint gives you the nightmares. You hear the Darkspawn. Anything that you see is likely going on at that very minute. The taint also shortens your lifespan. You have thirty years left, my friend. Give or take. When those thirty years are up, most Wardens head to the Deep Roads to fight until they are overwhelmed.” Remy leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “And the last thing you should know-”

“A Warden has to die to kill an Archdemon.” Alistair stood in the doorway, wearing severe expression. “Darkspawn are soulless. So when the soul of the Archdemon flees its dying body, it heads straight to the nearest tainted creature.” He stepped further into the room, arms crossed. “When it heads into the body of the Warden that killed it, it encounters the soul already there. And both are destroyed.”

Jowan sat still for a moment. This is why Helios died. “Destroyed? Not just killed? Then how do we keep getting more Archdemons?”

Alistair glared. “Who knows how many Old Gods are left? I certainly don’t.” He headed for the doorway. “Now. Take him around to meet the others. And then get him into training. He’s going to need it because I want him just as capable with weapons as any of my other soldiers.”

Remy cleared his throat. “Ser, remember, there are two more Old Gods left. So there’s a potential for two more Blights to occur. Of course we don’t know when that will happen.” He snorted and stood.

Alistair sighed heavily. “It’s a steep price to pay, but we’re the only ones who can. But just two more and we’ll be free from the threat of Blights forever…” He laid a hand on the doorframe. “That still doesn’t make me feel any better.” And then he was gone.

Jowan closed his eyes and bit his lip before letting out a soft sigh. “Well, you heard him. Let’s introduce me to the others.”

Remy nodded uncomfortably. “The Commander is on edge about your presence here as it is, so for the Love of Andraste, do your best to stay out of his way and on his good side. He can, and will, make your life here a living hell.” He rubbed his face. “I, or one of the other mages is going to need to tutor you, I think. It would not be wise to practice your blood magic here. He will certainly have orders to prevent that.”

Jowan nodded. “If it will keep me here, and keep him from forcing me to leave, then I’ll do whatever I have to.”

Remy furrowed his brows and frowned. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but a startled cry from the doorway interrupted him.

“Jowan?!”

Jowan raised a startled gaze to the man at the door. “Anders? Anders, by the Maker, it’s you!”

Anders swept into the room and pulled Jowan into a hug. “It’s good to see you again, my old friend.” He pulled back and grinned. “So you got pulled into this Warden madness too, I see.”

Remy sat back down again. “I see there’s one person I don’t need to introduce you to. Anders, how do you know him?”

Anders chuckled. “He was the only one in the Tower to be so close in age to the full mages and still be an apprentice. Most who’d gone through their Harrowing wouldn’t talk to him, and as I didn’t care for Tower politics…” he shrugged. “It all comes down to the both of us needing a friend, and finding one in each other and in Helios Amell.” A flicker of pain flashed over his face before the grin was back.

Jowan nodded, “So what are you doing here? I thought Rylock was going to have you executed for sure last time.”

Ander shifted a little uncomfortably. “Well… I escaped. Again. And when they were hauling me back the last time, we stopped off here. The Darkspawn attacked that night, and Alistair conscripted me to save my life.”

Jowan shook his head incredulously. “And Rylock let you go that easy?”

Ander snorted. “Hardly. She tried to come after me again, to just kill me. And I thought that Alistair would let her have me, him being an ex-Templar, but he fought her and killed her.” He shook his head. “Said it was because I was one of his Wardens, apostate or no.”

Jowan’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe there’s some hope for me, yet.”

Anders nodded. “Give him a chance to cool down. He’s a very reasonable man. He even let-”

“Me become a Warden.” A sharp faced man with dark hair spoke from just inside the room. He was leaning against the doorframe and smirking.

Anders grinned a little goofily. “This is Nathaniel Howe.”

Jowan gaped. “Howe? As in, Arl Rendon Howe’s son? Wait, how long were you standing there?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and stepped further into the room. “I was here the whole time. And yes, I am, but here I thought I was done with these kinds of reactions.”

“I’ve been out of touch with the world,” Jowan confessed.

“Ah.” Nathaniel shrugged and then laid a hand on Anders’ shoulder. “Come on now, Mage. We’re going to be late. You were the one that was in a hurry before.”

Anders’ eyes widened almost comically. “Maker’s Breath! I nearly forgot!” And he gave Jowan one last hug and said, “We can finish catching up later!” before grabbing Nathaniel’s sleeve and nearly dragging the dark-haired man out of the room.

Jowan turned to Remy, “What was that about?”

“The Commander has them making a trip to Amaranthine for some supplies, or something.” Remy quirked a half grin. “Personally, I think it’s just an excuse to get them out of the Keep. Alistair is tired of them making doe eyes at each other.” He snorted. “You’d think after a year of being lovers they’d have moved past that stage now.”

Jowan blinked rapidly for a moment. “Wait… what?”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t see that?”

“I… He was such a womanizer at the Tower though. It’s a little hard to believe that he’s not only,” Jowan waggled a hand, “you know, but monogamous as well.”

Remy chuckled. “Some people change more drastically than others.” He stood up again. “Come on, Captain Daveth is next. He’s in charge of training the new recruits.”

Jowan nodded, and followed Remy to the training grounds.

“Daveth!” Remy called and waved his hand. “I’ve brought some fresh meat for you. The Commander wants this mage to be trained just like the rest of us.”

Daveth grinned. “It’s good to meet you, Ser Mage.”

Jowan politely inclined his head. “And you as well. What can I expect out here?”

“Well, I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re a mage,” Daveth explained. “You’ll be worked just as hard as the rest of the green recruits. Have to build up muscle and all. Training begins at sunrise, so you’d better be up and in the parade block before that. Make sure you eat plenty. I’ve had more than a few recruits slack off because they thought they were putting on flab and ended up passing out.” He jabbed a finger at Jowan’s shoulder. “And don’t forget to get plenty of water. We have buckets out here for drinking and dunking in. I take care of my recruits and I expect them to take care of themselves. Are we clear?”

Jowan blinked, “Ah, yes, Ser. Very clear, Ser.”

Daveth grinned and clapped him on the back. “Well done, then! I expect to see you out here bright and early tomorrow. Get plenty of rest tonight.”

Jowan nodded.

“Thanks, Daveth.” Remy smiled. “Let’s move along then, Jowan.”

Jowan nodded again and was led away from the training grounds, this time towards the kitchens.

When Remy opened the door, Jowan saw a tiny woman with flaming red hair and nut brown skin flitting from table to table, checking, tasting, and giving orders in a crisp voice to everyone involved in the cooking. She saw them standing in the doorway and strode over. “Remy! You’re bringing me another new Warden, no? He is scrawny.” Her accent revealed she was from Antiva and she poked Jowan in the side. “Very scrawny. What is your name?”

He stared down into her bright blue eyes before stepping back a little. “Jowan. My name is Jowan.”

She snorted. “What are you afraid of boy?”

Jowan shook his head. “You’re very intimidating, my lady.”

She roared with laughter. “Lady, he says! I like this one Remy. We’re keeping him, aren’t we?”

Remy grinned. “Yes, Calista. We’re keeping him, despite the Commander thinking I’m insane for bringing him.”

“What’s new with that?” She nudged him with her elbow. “You keep bringing back dangerous criminals; of course he’s going to think you’re mad.”

Jowan let out a startled noise. “W-what? You keep… what?”

Calista laughed again. “You mean Remy didn’t tell you? Our fearless second in command has a bad habit of conscripting the worst kind of folks. Most don’t survive. I think he does that on purpose.” She confided in a stage whisper.

“That is not why I conscript them!” Remy protested.

“Of course, love.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Now get going. Both of you, out of my kitchen for now! I need to get back to work on supper for this lot. I swear, one day I’ll just up and quit. I must have been mad to sign onto this job!” Then she turned her back on the two of them and started shouting orders again.

Remy pushed Jowan out of the door and closed it. “Now, the Seneschal should be down there. I’m just going to head back in this direction and um… right.” He pointed in both directions and then fled.

Jowan almost called him back for an explanation but instead sighed and trudged onward to meet the Seneschal and get this day over with.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

and Magic's slave, chapter 11. More angst ;_;

-------------------------------------------------
Anders sat on the bed, fingering his throat where the collar used to be.

“Alistair did that for you? Its official then, is it?”

Anders turned to look. Nate was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and there was an odd bulge under his shirt. “Yes,” he said softly. “I’m really, truly free. I can walk outside, or to Amaranthine, or to Denerim and not get stopped unless I use magic.” He smiled faintly and then he tilted his head. “Nathaniel, Ser, what is it you’re hiding?”

“Oh! This. The beast was being so quiet I almost forgot he was there.” Nate reached into his tunic and pulled out a scruffy orange tabby cat and held him out to Anders. “He’s not much to look at, but I remember he was my sister’s kitten before I was sent off. So he’s tame, and very affectionate.” He smiled as the cat tried to lick his fingers.

Anders’ eyes opened wide and he slid off of the bed, holding his arms out for the cat. Holding the creature to his cheek, he listened to it purr. “I think I shall call you Ser Pounce-a-Lot.” He smiled. “So… he’s for me? Really for me?”

Nate smiled and nodded. “He’s really for you. Now. Let’s see about getting your things into your room?”

Anders blinked and set the cat down for a moment. “But I thought… This morning, you…”

“I thought that once you were free, you’d no longer want to stay here.” Nate said softly, bitterly.

“You thought wrong.” Anders grinned. “I’ve been in here so long… This is my room too. I…” He blushed and ducked his head as he retreated towards the bed. “I’d like to stay. And I think you need me to.” He laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it wasn’t for me you’d need a new pillow every week or so.” Anders pointed out. “You’re a cuddler, Nathaniel.”

Nate blushed. “I thought you slept through that,” he mumbled.

“I was always awake before you. I only let you think I was asleep so you wouldn’t get up and leave me.”

Nate looked thoroughly mortified. “I…” he recovered quickly. “One night you called me ‘Nate’. Do you remember that?” He took a few steps forward.

Anders nodded. “Yes, on our way to Amaranthine. Why?”

Nathaniel stepped even farther into the room and settled himself on the bed, opposite Anders. “I’d like to hear you call me that again. You don’t have to call me master, never did, though you tend to use it for your advantage, you wicked man, and Nathaniel just seems so formal.”

Anders blushed and smirked. “It will take some getting used to,” he said softly. “After all this time, I--” He was cut off in the next instant by Nate’s lips on his. He let out a gasp in surprise, but instead of advancing, Nate retreated.

“I’m sorry.” The noble turned to get off of the bed when a hand on his arm stopped him. “You’re a free man by order of the king now, that was too bo—Mmmfff.”

Anders, for the first time, pressed his advantage and wrapped his arms around Nate as he kissed the other man. The cat forgotten, he parted his lips slightly in invitation and gripped Nate’s shoulders, pulling slightly to get the dark haired man back on the bed.

Nate took the invitation and threw caution to the wind. He swept his tongue out, plundering Anders’ mouth as he slowly crawled his way over the mage. When he was straddling the other man’s lap he finally pulled back, leaving Anders quite breathless. He took a deep shuddering breath of his own before rasping out, “Tell me you want this. I don’t… I’m not going to make the same mistake as last time. I need to know that you truly want this. If you don’t, I will leave right now, I promise you.”

Anders stared up at Nate and blinked a few times before laughter bubbled up from his chest. “Nathaniel, I trust you.”

Nate sat, tense, his arms quivering on either side of Anders’ head. “This isn’t funny, and that doesn’t answer my question,” he nearly growled.

Anders shivered. “What would you like to hear? Would you like me to tell you I’ve been dreaming of you since the night we went to Amaranthine? Would you like me to tell you that I’ve wanted this, but been so scared of what would happen that I’ve avoided it? At least, until this morning, that is.” He swallowed. “Nathaniel, I trust you. I want you…” He reached a hand up to run it through Nate’s hair. “Please. Besides, you did say you were going to pay me back for this morning.” Anders smiled.

Nate held out for a few moments, giving Anders time to reconsider before he swept downward and proceeded to kiss Anders breathless again. His hand skimmed down Anders’ side, before coming to rest lightly on the mage’s hip.

Anders squirmed a little at the sensation, but tried to lose himself in how gentle Nate’s kiss was. No one has ever treated me like this before… he thought as he ran his fingers through Nate’s hair again, encouraging the rogue to continue what he was doing.

Nate pulled back a little. “Here, Anders. Come on, out of those robes.” He helped Anders sit up and started messing with the buckles and straps.

When Anders was completely naked, Nate grinned and dipped down again, paying close attention to Anders’ neck, swirling his tongue along the skin where the collar used to be. The hand that wasn’t propping him up traced its way down the middle of Anders’ chest; first pinching one nipple, then the other, before sliding over taut muscles and coming to rest on Anders’ growing erection.

Anders groaned and arched his body upwards, wanting to feel more of Nate’s skin against his.

“Look at this! He’s so eager for it already boys!” A cruel laugh, and a rough squeeze had him whimpering. He couldn’t help it. His body wanted this, wanted the heat, the touch; he craved this contact. Just as they’d trained him.

Anders’ eyes flew open and he let out a small sob, before shaking his head to clear away the images. This is Nate. He’s not a Templar. He cares about me. Nate’s hand squeezed gently and began a soft stroking motion.

The hand on him tightened painfully. “You want this? Tell me, whore!” A hand slapped his face and something cold and large nudged his entrance. “Beg me for it, and I’ll go easy on you.”

He whimpered again, opening cracked and bleeding lips. “Please.” His voice a croak, a whisper. “Please. I want you.”

An ugly laugh. “See, boys? With the right treatment, the fire goes right out.” The Templar shoved the hilt of the sword into him and he screamed.

Anders let out a frightened yell and scootched backwards on the bed, away from Nate as he trembled violently. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t. Please…”

Nate sat back on his heels before inching forward and pulling Anders into a hug. “Shush, Anders. It’s fine. It’s alright. As much as I want you,” he chuckled, “I don’t want you at the expense of your sanity. Please, calm down.”

Anders clung to him, trying to even out his breathing and stop the tremors that ran through his body. “I trust you. I do,” He sobbed out. “I just can’t… the memories. They’re always there.”

Nate sighed and stroked Anders’ hair. “It’s alright. I promise.”

Anders leaned into the stroking as his trembles ceased. “Thank you,” he said softly, reaching a hand up to his neck again. “This is going to take longer to get used to than I thought.” He sighed and nuzzled Nate’s chest. “Keep holding me, please?”

Nate nodded and squeezed his arms a little tighter. “Anything you want, Anders. Anything you want.”

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Chapter 3 of reason, ohgod.

-------------------------------

“Why do you put up with this?”

Jowan shook his head and squinted a little. “What?”

Anders sighed in exasperation and stabbed at his dinner. “I said, ‘Why do you put up with this?’ It’s not like you to take this kind of abuse lying down.”

Jowan deliberately avoided Anders’ gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What abuse?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Anders said, his voice clipped and angry. “But in case you’ve developed selective memory loss, let me remind you. I’m talking about the abuse our dear Commander of the Grey has heaped on you over the last year.”

Jowan winced. “He has every right to treat me like that, or have you already forgotten what I did to the Arl?”

“Right? That man has no right to treat you like this.” Anders gesticulated wildly. “You’ve more than made up for your mistakes.”

Jowan shushed him, looking worried. “Come on. If I tell you why I stay and put up with it, will you drop it?”

Anders perked up. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best.”

Jowan slumped in relief, before grabbing Anders by the arm and dragging the other man off.

Alistair, meanwhile, was pacing around his workroom, muttering to himself when Zevran strolled in. "Alistair," he began, "I need another room," he complained.

"What for?" Alistair asked with some surprise.

"They are too close to your Howe and his pet mage." Zevran sighed. "And they are very loud."

Alistair let out a bark of surprised laughter. "I never thought you'd be one to be bothered by that."

"I wasn't," he replied a little miffed, "but the young man in my bed at the time, was." he shrugged.

Alistair couldn't help it; he started laughing until tears rolled down his face.

"I don’t see what's funny about this situation." He frowned. "There’s something else too. About Jowan."

Alistair's mirth immediately evaporated and that shuttered look drew itself over his face again. "What did he do this time?"

"This is not anything he has done." Zevran shook his head. "This is about what you are doing to him."

Alistair shrugged. "Blood mage." As if those two words explained everything, and perhaps, to him, they did.

Zevran snorted. "Has he used those abilities once since he's been here?"

Sullen, "No."

"Has he given you any reason to distrust him?"

"No."

Zevran made a noise of frustration, "Can't you treat him the same way Helios would? Your beloved? Who was also a blood mage?"

Alistair went cold. "That was out of necessity. To defeat the Blight."

“And how do you know that Jowan did not also do this thing out of necessity?” Zevran pressed. “Have you ever talked to the man other than to put him down?”

Alistair said nothing, stomach churning as he turned to stare out of the window.

“What are you afraid of, Alistair?” Zevran stepped up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Everything. I’m afraid of my feelings. I’m afraid of not hating him. I’m afraid of forgetting Helios. “Zev…” A sigh as he twisted out of the Antivan’s grasp. “I’m afraid he’s going to turn on us.” The lie made his insides twist like live snakes.

Zevran snorted but let the subject, and his hand, drop. “Then why don’t you go and look for him?”

Alistair blinked. “Yes. I-I think I will.”


In another part of the Keep, Jowan was looking nervously around for listeners. “Look, you have to keep this to yourself, Anders.”

Anders nodded.

“I mean it. No telling your lover any of this,” Jowan cautioned. “This is something I went to great lengths to hide.” He smiled wryly. “I even went and got a woman by the name of Lily involved, so I could run.”

Anders blinked. “What?”

Jowan took a deep breath. “Listen, and don’t interrupt. Please. I’ve been in love with Alistair for years.” He kept his voice low. “Remember when he served at the Tower?” He waited for Anders’ nod before continuing. “After he left, I found Lily… and I used her to get me out of the Tower, even before I found out they wanted to make me Tranquil. I studied blood magic so I’d be ready to use it if I ever had to. But the only time I did was when they backed me into a corner. After I destroyed my phylactery.” He sighed. “I never thought I’d see Alistair again, and then that day in Arl Eamon’s dungeon…” He sighed again. “When Helios died, I thought if I just waited, I could have my chance. It was a long shot, but I put myself in a place to be found and here I am. But he won’t even give me the time of day and I’m running out of options.”

Anders pulled Jowan into a hug. “Give it some more time. I’ll come up with a plan, or something.”

Jowan sighed again before returning the hug and pulling away. “Look, go back to dinner. I need to do some thinking.”

Anders nodded and slipped away.

Jowan had been leaning against the wall for a few minutes before he heard “Oh. There you are. Who are you planning to poison this time?”

Jowan stared defiantly up into Alistair’s emotionless gaze. “It’s been over three years, and I’ve not used my blood magic in four. Since I ran away from the Tower. Everyone has forgiven me, even Eamon himself. Why can’t you?”

Alistair looked away. “I don’t forgive maleficar.”

Jowan let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “When did you tell that to Helios? Before or after you fucked him?”

Anger flared within Alistair followed by an icy numbness. “I loved him. Maker knows he had his faults, but I loved him.”

“You’re a liar,” Jowan said in a calculating tone. “You’re a liar, Alistair. He was just a warm body to you, wasn’t he? It was easy to overlook the blood magic when he was lying with his legs spread in your tent.”

Alistair’s hands clenched and he took a menacing step forward. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Just shut up.”

“Afraid of the truth?” Jowan snorted. “I thought as much. If I’m wrong show me. Prove to me that I’m wrong. If the blood magic really wasn’t a problem, then show me.” Jowan stared defiantly up at Alistair. There was no going back, not now. Not after throwing those words at the ex-templar, trying to force the man into something resembling emotions.

Alistair’s face was unreadable and he stormed forward, grabbing the mage by the front of his robes and delivering a brutal kiss.

Jowan groaned as Alistair completely overpowered him, shoving him against the wall and mashing their lips together, all teeth and tongue.

Alistair pulled back, a feral gleam appearing in his eyes as he turned Jowan around and forced the mage’s face to press against the cool stone, even as he knelt to the floor.

Jowan’s hands scrabbled for purchase on the wall in front of him, every nerve in his body on fire. Alistair flipped up the end of his robes and rose, blunt nails scratching along his thighs and rear. He was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, gasping as the ex-templar smacked his backside.

Alistair then pressed himself flush to Jowan’s back. “Is this what you wanted?” he breathed into the dark-haired man’s ear, lust completely clouding out reason.

Jowan merely moaned in answer, arching his back and shifting his hips to grind backwards into Alistair’s.

The blonde man chuckled and pulled back slightly to rake his nails along Jowan’s back, under the robes, before pulling the mages smallclothes to his ankles. All measure of sanity gone from his mind; he wrapped an arm around Jowan’s waist and roughly stroked the mage's heated erection.

Jowan’s hips bucked into Alistair’s hand and he threw his head back to stare over his shoulder into the other man’s eyes.

Alistair grinned, and without faltering, thumbed off his breeches and smallclothes and rested himself against the cleft of Jowan’s backside. “Tell me you want this," he demanded. “Tell me this is what you meant.”

Jowan moaned again, swallowing his whimpers. “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, by all the Maker created, yes.”

“Good.” Alistair slicked his fingers and pressed the first one roughly inside of Jowan, searching for that which would make sparks fly in front of the other man’s eyes, and weaken his knees. Locating the spot, he pressed and used the opportunity to slip another finger inside of the trembling mage.

Jowan’s hands clenched convulsively on the stone wall and he cried out, whimpers pouring from his lips.

Alistair scissored his fingers, making a token effort to stretch Jowan before pressing himself deep inside.

The mage hissed and ground his teeth together, determined to show no sign of pain, and once Alistair was fully sheathed inside him, he pressed back.

Alistair took the hint, pulling away before pressing forward. It didn’t take him long at all to build up a bruising rhythm; his right hand keeping pace, stroking Jowan, and his left delivering hard smacks to the mage’s rear at regular intervals.

At that rate, it didn’t take long to push Jowan over the edge. He pressed his forehead to the cool stone of the wall as his muscles trembled and convulsed and he cried out, “Oh, Maker! Anh! Ali- Alis- Alistair!”

Alistair followed not long after the mage and as his head cleared he pulled back and stared in horror at Jowan. Swallowing hard, he babbled out an apology before yanking his breeches back on and running from the hallway.

Jowan, all wobbly legged and woozy, tottered forward and called out, “Alistair! Wait!” before tumbling to the floor, tripped by his own weak legs and the smallclothes tangled around his ankles.

He stayed like that a moment, pressed to the cool stone of the floor, before he gathered his legs up underneath himself, put his clothes in order, and stumbled off to his room.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

SOYEAH. Chapter 12.
---------------------

Meanwhile, on the road between Denerim and Vigil’s Keep, Alistair started setting up camp for the evening. He laid out the bedrolls and bustled around trying to get dinner started, all the while keeping an eye on Jowan, to make sure the mage didn’t end up hurting himself. He pulled out the chopped lamb he’d pilfered from one of the cold rooms at the Vigil and tossed it in the pot he’d stuck on top of the fire.

Jowan stared. “Ser, what are you doing?”

Alistair looked up from where he was dumping more… things into the pot. “Oh uh, making dinner. You’re hungry right? I know I am.”

“Ah, yes, Ser, I am.” Jowan wobbled his way over, taking a moment to watch as Alistair seemed to simply be adding whatever he grabbed next from his pack into the pot. Hesitating a moment, he rest his hand on the king's shoulder. "With all due respect, Ser, I overheard some people speaking of your cooking. If you don't mind, I'd like to try my hand at it.” The king shouldn't be made to do his own cooking anyway.

Alistair chuckled. “That’s fine with me. My cooking will kill us all, I’m sure.” He retreated from the fire, content to let Jowan work. As he watched the mage, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. He had been made well aware of his ineptitude at cooking, but that still didn't stop him from wanting to learn how to get better at it.

Jowan, on the other hand, seemed to have a natural talent for it. He never once saw the mage measure his ingredients, doing everything by taste or with a critical eye. Wanting to get a closer look, he shuffled back over, peering over Jowan's shoulder to watch the stew starting to bubble merrily away as Jowan continued to sniff and taste herbs before tossing them in.

“Where did you learn to cook?”

Jowan let out a yelp, the dried plants spilling from his hands into the pot. A crackle of energy flared up around his hand as he spun around and started scrambling away as he tried to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. His eyes had gone wide and his breathing hitched.

Alistair stumbled back a step or two as well. “I'm sorry. Jowan, I'm sorry.” He held up his hands, backing further away to give the mage the space he needed. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Jowan let out a whimper and shivered, trying to get his breathing under control. He wrapped his arms around his chest and took deep gulping breaths. When he could speak again he said, “I’m sorry, Ser.” He ignored Alistair’s apologies. “This was my fault. I’ll make sure dinner isn’t ruined.”

Alistair rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Stop apologizing. This wasn’t your fault.” He shuffled backwards, farther away from the fire to give Jowan more room to breathe. “Please, continue. I'll just be...over here. Out of the way." He pointed off in a random direction. "Like I should have been in the first place," he muttered to himself.

Jowan inched forward cautiously and resumed his task, his gaze still flicking to the other man whenever he had a spare moment.

Thirty minutes later, Alistair dipped his spoon cautiously into the bowl of stew the mage had presented to him and took a tentative nibble.

Watching him from a few steps away, Jowan wrung his hands nervously, his mind flitting over all manner of reasons for Alistair's silence. Or rather the one big reason: he didn't like it. What his mind was really worrying over was exactly how the man was going to show his displeasure.

Another moment of silence. Another spoonful. The king chewed thoughtfully for a few moments before breaking into a grin. “This is great! Nearly perfect, in fact.”

“Nearly, Ser?” This was it. He'd done his best but it still wasn't up to the standards Alistair expected. Taking solace in the fact that he tried was going to be of little help when his punishment came.

Alistair nodded and rummaged around in his bag before pulling out a wedge of cheese with tiny holes all through it. “Could you add this to it next time?” He spoke like a child wondering if they were going to get scolded for asking.

Jowan goggled at the wedge of cheese for a minute before clearing his throat. “What is it?”

“It’s a type of cheese from Orlais.” Alistair said excitedly waving it around. “They called it… Lorraine, I think”

Jowan frowned, wanting to taste it before adding anything to the food he was cooking, but decided to not press his luck. “I… Yes, Ser. Anything you want, Ser.”

Alistair’s face lit up with delight.

Jowan continued to stare on in confusion, especially as Alistair eagerly returned to his meal. That had been...unexpected but at least he seemed happy enough. Feeling a pinch in his stomach, he rested his hands against it to try and stave off the feeling. Alistair was ladling seconds by the time the pain had him feeling light-headed. “Ah, Ser?” he said hesitantly, hoping what Anders had told him was true. “May I have a bowl of my own?”

Alistair stared at him, spoon raised halfway to his mouth. "What?"

Jowan dropped to his knees and lowered his eyes. “Sorry, Ser. I should know better than to ask.”

“I’m just wondering why you asked at all.” Alistair lowered his spoon and continued, “Of course you’re allowed to have some. Eat as much as you want! You need to gain muscle after all. Can’t have you wasting away.”

Jowan flinched. So that's how he wants me. Strong. Healthy. Able to fight. To resist. “Yes, Ser.” He slumped.

When they’d finished their meal, Jowan tidied up while Alistair settled himself into his bedroll on the opposite side of camp.

Jowan watched from his bedroll until he was certain the other man was asleep. Quietly as he could, he rose and crossed to the other bedroll, crawling his way underneath the covers, pressing his back to Alistair’s chest. His shivers never ceased but he stayed put. He was determined to pay his Master back in the way he knew was going to be required of him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he could do it on his own terms. Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, he rolled over and began running his hands over Alistair’s chest.

Alistair made a deep noise in his chest, almost like a purr, before rousing from his slumber. Cracking an eye open he jerked away with a curse. “What in all the Maker’s Hells are you doing!?”

Jowan squared his jaw. “Paying you back for what you’ve done for me.”

Alistair stared at him, his face a mixture of pity, anger, and exasperation. “You don't owe me a thing! I did what I did because it was right, not because I wanted something out of it. Besides, I… I like women, Jowan.”

“That never stopped any of the other Templar.”

“Maker’s Breath.” Alistair let out a soft exhale. “Go back to your bedroll, Jowan. I’m not going to ask anything of you. I'm not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You can sleep in peace.” He placed a hand on Jowan’s shoulder and gently shoved the mage away. “Go to sleep. Over there.” He closed his eyes and left a bewildered Jowan wandering back to his own bedroll.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

Chapter 4
------------
Alistair stared morosely into the cup of ale he’d pilfered from Oghren. He hadn’t had any, not yet. He was just remembering the last time he got drunk: after the death of the Archdemon. That had only been a tankard of normal ale, but he’d woken up the next morning with a headache the size of Antiva, a mouth that tasted like a graveyard, no memory of the previous night, and lying next to Zevran. He knew nothing had happened between them, as they had both still been clothed, but the way Zev smirked at him for a week afterward had been unnerving.

Taking a firm grip on the handle, he tipped the tankard up to his mouth and took a swig. He shuddered as the foul brew slipped into his stomach, creating a hazy pool of warmth in his midsection. Taking a deep breath, he took another sip and started wandering the halls, determined to get to his room before anything blew up in his face.

He squinted. And staggered. And fell against the wall when he saw Jowan lurking outside of his door. “What’re… what’re yoo doin' here?” he slurred out.

“Maker’s breath! Alistair! How much have you had to drink?” Jowan hurried over to him and tried to take the ale away, but the blonde whined and pulled back.

“Mine! And it’s first one. Why does it matter?”

Jowan managed to catch a glimpse into the tankard and groaned. “Alistair, this is over half full. Are you sure this is your first one?”

Alistair glared at him. Of course this was his first one. Did the brunet really think he’d polished off a few before staggering back to his room? “Of course first. But Oghren…” He shook his head. “Oghren’s doesn’t know. Shhhhh…” He pressed a finger to Jowan’s lips in a hushing motion and then giggled.

“Oh, Andraste’s blood,” Jowan muttered, supporting Alistair, who was now leaning on him. “Oghren’s ale. I should have known. Come on then, Commander. Let’s get you to bed and get that alcohol away from you.”

Alistair blinked innocently down at the mage. “Take it away? Why? Wait!” His face lit up in a grin. “You can have the rest. And then we can talk.” He nodded.

Alistair watched as a blush bloomed on the mage’s face. “No, Ser.” A gulp. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

Alistair pouted. “BAH. Drink wif me! Pleeeaaase?”

Jowan massaged his forehead and started shifting his weight to get them moving. “Ser, why do you want me to drink with you?”

“Because.” Alistair grinned, this was all too perfect. “Because I… I think I really like you, Jowan, and I want you drunk, too.” Too bad his mental capacities reverted to that of a four year old.

Jowan sputtered. "Ser, how do those two lines of thought even-"

“Drink!” Alistair interrupted with a goofy grin and tipped the tankard up to Jowan’s lips, forcing the mage to drink, lest he get alcohol all down his front.

Alistair watched as the mage sputtered and then he tired to raise the tankard again, but to his disappointment, was fended off this time. He tried another tack. “Jowaaaannn…” he whined, “Help me into my room?” He really wanted the mage in there and really wanted the other man to not leave. There wouldn’t be any leaving on his part. Not this time. And since I’m drunk, his mind reasoned, it’s not like he’ll be like before. Yes, mind. Thank you.

He watched the emotions flicker over Jowan’s face before the mage slumped in a resigned sort of way and said, “Of course, Commander. Lean on my shoulder, we’re almost there.”

Alistair did his best to not cheer out loud and slumped against the mage once more, taking another sip of his ale.

When Jowan managed to get him into the room and set him onto the bed, he grabbed the dark-haired man and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you," he mumbled into Jowan’s robes, hands sneakily making their descent.

Jowan sighed and patted him on the head. “It was right here. You could have made it here by yourself.”

Alistair looked up at him with wide innocent eyes. “But what if I’d fallen! What if something had happened to me in the, uh, small space between here and there?” His hands slipped a little lower.

Jowan fixed him with an unamused look. “You are drunk, Ser. But not that drunk, so I’d lik- eep!”

Alistair approved of that noise, and grabbed a double handful of Jowan’s rear again, just to see if the mage would squeak again.

He did. “Eep! Commander! Stop that!” He twisted away, much to Alistair’s disappointment, and stepped back to the door. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier,” he said, eyes nervously darting around.

Alistair flopped back onto his bed. “Don' wanna talk about it,” he mumbled, his mood plummeting. “I hurt you. Used you.” He looked up and blinked. “Why’re you still here? Why do you… stay?”

Jowan sighed and leaned against the doorframe, expression unreadable. “Alistair, if I’d wanted to get away from you, I could have. I’m not helpless anymore. You have your Captain Daveth to thank for that.” He quirked a wry grin.

Alistair lurched off of the bed and stumbled over, leaning against Jowan again. “But why stay? Why? I.. treat you bad.”

He felt the smaller man sigh and then heard, “Because I care about you, Alistair. I…” A pause. “I love you. And it’s not likely you’ll remember any of this in the morning, so just… go to bed, Commander.”

Alistair pulled back and leaned in for a kiss, his hands lightly gripping the shorter man’s shoulders. His lips touched Jowan’s only briefly before he staggered back to the bed, tankard and foul mood forgotten.

--------------------------------

Jowan poked at his food miserably the next morning and sighed every few minutes until Anders jabbed him in the shoulder. “Ow! What?” He rubbed the tender spot and glowered. “Is this so important you had to stab me?”

Anders snickered and he grinned. “I’ve got a plan. Alistair is heading out today and planned on taking Nate and I with him. But,” he said in a sing-song, “I’m rather sick today.” He let out an obviously fake cough. “Nate will have to stay behind to take care of me, and since Remy has to watch the Keep while our illustrious Commander is away…” He trailed off and waved a hand in the air.

Jowan paled. Well, more so than usual. “You’re… Maker. You’re jesting! You have to be!” He buried his face in his hands. “Alone. With Alistair. A grumpy Alistair who is sure to have a hangover. Maker, I’m doomed.”

Anders blinked in surprise. “A hangover? But he doesn’t drink. I’ve never seen him with even the smallest amount of alcohol.”

“That’s because Alistair can’t hold it.” Zevran settled himself at the table. “My dear friend has the lowest tolerance for ale that I’ve ever seen.” He grinned. “A single tankard and he won’t remember anything.”

Anders bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “So, Jowan, why will he have a hangover?”

Jowan buried his face in his hands. “He got into Oghren’s brew. Maker only knows why he did it, but he managed about a third of it last night.”

Zevran tilted his head curiously. “And how did you come across this knowledge? Last I saw of Alistair, he was still making up reasons to hate you.”

Jowan went scarlet. “Uhm. There was a… an altercation,” he mumbled. “I was trying to talk to him about it, since he seemed to… misunderstand. I was outside of his door when he staggered up and tried to force some of that ale on me.”

Anders covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his snickering and Zevran just raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Shortly afterward Alistair slouched into the dining hall, looking belligerent. Jowan buried his face in his hands with a small whimper, trying to make himself look as unassuming as possible.

Alistair zeroed in on them though, quickly followed by Nathaniel. “Anders. Come on," he said, squinting. “We need to get an early start.”

Anders chose that moment to display his acting skills. With a cough that sounded real enough to cause a look of panic to flicker across Nathaniel’s face, he grinned weakly. “Sorry, Commander. I don’t know how I managed to catch a cold.” Even his voice sounded rough. Jowan was impressed.

Nathaniel pushed past Alistair, gathering Anders up in his arms. “Sorry, Commander.” His tone nearly the same as Anders’ was. “I’m not going if he’s sick.”

Zevran raised an eyebrow and then grinned. “Take Jowan with you. You need a mage with you, and everyone else is going to be busy.”

Jowan looked up in horror into Alistair’s grumpy face. “Fine," the warrior said grudgingly. “But if he turns me into a toad, I’m blaming you. Come on.” Alistair turned on his heel and strode out of the dining hall, Jowan slouching along behind him.

--------------------------

“This is all your fault!”

“My fault?!” Jowan leapt over a fallen log. “How in the Maker’s Hells is this my fault! You’re the one that wanted to take the long way around to the Black Marsh!”

Alistair opened his mouth and caught a mouthful of tree branch. Spitting leaves out, he snarled, “If you hadn’t insisted on trying to sneak past them, we could have killed the sentries and this horde wouldn’t be chasing after us!”

That did it. Jowan slowed to a halt and pulled out his dagger, turning to face the oncoming darkspawn. “Commander, hide.”

“What? What are you-”

Jowan turned his head to look back at Alistair. “I’m sorry! I never wanted to use this again! Now hide!”

Alistair’s eyes widened and he lunged forward as he figured out what Jowan was about to do. “No! You are not allowed to use blood magic! That’s an order!”

“Then you can discipline me for disobeying if we survive this.” He swept his staff around, knocking Alistair to the ground, and then turned back, letting it fall beside the commander. Stabbing into his wrist, he grit his teeth against the pain as he drug the knife up to his elbow.

Alistair gazed upward, winded but unharmed, watching as Jowan performed the most complicated piece of magic he’d ever seen. When the whirlwind of blood and debris was gone, the forest was silent, the darkspawn dead. And there stood Jowan, smiling weakly at him, arm dripping before the blood loss caused him to faint.

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

-flails- And here's the next chap after taking so long. Ugh. D:

“Anders.”

The blonde mage looked up from his patient’s broken leg. “Yes, Ser, Commander? Is something wrong?”

The infirmary had been rearranged to Anders’ liking. The beds were aligned on the walls and there was a central fixed bed that he used to determine the extent of patient’s injuries before treating them. Nate was currently in a corner, idly cleaning underneath his nails with a small knife while the mage did his work. His presence insured nothing but the utmost respect for Anders from the soldiers he ended up healing.

Thomais lounged against one of the beds. “We’ve been having reports of a disturbance in the Wending Wood to the south. You’re coming with me.”

Nate stuck his knife into his belt and pushed off from the wall. “I’ll go gather our supplies then, Commander.”

Thomais fixed him with a flat stare. “No. You’re staying here, Nathaniel. I’m taking Anders and Oghren. That’s it.”

“What?”

“Have you suddenly gone deaf, Nathaniel? You. Are. Staying. Here.” Thomais was not amused. “I want you to regain the trust of these people and you can’t do that gallivanting all over the countryside after me.”

Nate narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Commander, I-”

“Don’t you want Anders to have more independence?” Thomais interrupted. “If you keep shadowing him, he’ll never be a normal citizen.”

Nathaniel shut his mouth with a click.

“That’s what I thought.” Thomais shot him a smug grin.

Anders looked between them for a minute, obviously confused on what to do, before he wilted a little. “Nathaniel…”

“I know," the rogue said shortly and strode from the room, boots far more silent than they should have been.

Thomais rolled his eyes. “Meet me in the courtyard in half an hour. That should give you plenty of time to placate your surly lover.”

Anders blushed and nodded, not trusting his tongue to make proper speech, and then he bolted.

The soldier stared down at his half healed leg and grinned ruefully. “I suppose my body will finish healing itself the rest of the way then. Could I have some time off while the leg recovers, Commander?”

Thomais sighed. “Yes, fine.”
-
Anders hovered indecisively outside of their room before he took a breath and stepped inside.

Nathaniel sat on the edge of the bed, fingers laced together in his lap with a pensive expression on his face. “Our Commander,” he began, “is a skilled manipulator.”

Anders nodded, not knowing what to say.

Nathaniel continued, not bothering to look up at Anders. “He knows exactly which pressure plates to push and how to keep them from blowing up in his face….” He sighed and finally looked up. “Please be careful out there, Anders. This isn’t some romp through the bowels of the Keep," he pleaded.

Anders nodded again and tucked himself into Nate’s embrace. “I promise, Nathaniel. I may not have the best grasp of my magic yet, but I’m far from helpless.” He lifted his chin and nuzzled the juncture of Nate’s jaw and neck. “You made sure of that. I can handle a mace quite well now.”

Nate nodded and tightened his arms before releasing the blonde. “Go on then. Don’t keep the Commander waiting.”

Anders sighed and retreated from the room, unaware of the despair in Nate’s eyes as they followed him down the hall.
-
The fighting with the bandits was brutal, ugly, and over far quicker than Anders had been expecting. The Sylvans on the other hand were a different matter. How do you kill a burning tree? After bashing ineffectively at them with their weapons, Thomais ordered them back and pushed Anders forward with a muttered, “Wynne used fire on the normal ones, see if you can conjure ice.”

Anders opened his mouth as if to say something, and thought better of it. Taking a deep breath, and letting the frost coat his fingers, he thrust his arms out and called upon the wellspring of mana within him. The sylvan froze solid, as did the grass and everything thirty feet beyond the animated tree. Anders stared at his hands and trembled. His knees felt weak and if the commander hadn’t forced him to swallow a vile tasting blue potion, he would have collapsed to the ground.

“Come on, Anders. On your feet," Thomais said, supporting him for a moment. “I can’t have you falling down on me.”

“Sorry, Commander.” His tongue felt thick, his words slurring together. He felt tired, like he’d just run a marathon with the Templars whipping at his back. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Thomais leveled a look at him. “Don’t sass me. The only way you’re going to learn how to control it is by using it in the field. This is why I didn’t bring Nathaniel along. He would have stopped me from testing you. Now come on.”

Anders flinched. “Sorry, Commander.”

Thomais just waggled a hand at him. “Just keep that in the forefront of your mind. I don’t want you slacking off, and keep that magic pointed away from us.”

Anders opened his mouth to say something and then shrank back. They can put the collar right back on me and ship me back to the tower. He reminded himself. Just because the king took it off… That doesn’t mean you can sass the people that have the power. He gave only a nod, and then fell back to the rear of the group. He completely ignored the bandit the Commander was interrogating on the bridge until he felt a surge of mana and saw an elf woman perched on the cliff, vines and roots wriggling around her.

“Why are you here?” She demanded of them.

Anders stared, open mouthed at her and Thomais groaned. “Great, Dalish," he muttered before raising his voice. “We’re here to investigate the Darkspawn," he said mildly, “and whatever has been destroying these caravans.”

There was a spike in the mana he felt, just before she sneered. “So you’re working for the shems! Tell them to release my sister, or more of them will die! Now leave this place and consider this a warning.” She raised the roots around her, and when they disappeared, she was gone.

Oghren grinned at Thomais. “You said that was a Dalish? Just as prickly as ever, I see. Are we going to have to make peace between her clan and the Darkspawn?” Then he laughed, like the whole thing was a joke.

Thomais flashed him a grin. “Not this time, I think. We'll probably need to find out what happened to her sister though, especially since I don’t want to have to kill her if she's the one that's been behind the raids.”

Anders stared. “Kill her?" This from the man who spoke to him of tolerance and giving a chance to even those the rest of the world deemed unworthy. And at that thought, something else struck him. "But she has magic! Unfettered magic and she can control it! She could teach me!”

Thomais raised an eyebrow. “Assuming we can even get her to talk to us, how do you expect we convince her to work around shems, hm?”

Anders shook his head. “I...don’t know, but we have to try!” Then he flinched back and said quietly, “Right?”

Oghren laughed again. "Boy has a point. If we can get her to not fry us on purpose, maybe she can teach him how to not fry us accidentally. Besides, be a shame to waste a rack like that, Thomais. Haven't seen one of those that nice since we were running around with that witch, and the redhead."

Thomais stared between them, and Anders twiddled his fingers nervously as the seconds stretched on until, “Fine,” Thomais sighed and rubbed his forehead. “We’ll try to convince the Dalish that we need her.” He shook his head. “You’re in for a treat. The Dalish are more stubborn than the Templar.”

Anders laughed. “Somehow, Ser, I doubt that.”

 

[Chibichibi]

Re: A thread for any more DragonAge Fanfics i write

The last Chapter of "Reason" finally!
-----------------

Alistair hauled Jowan’s unconscious body to a small cave that was nothing more than a mossy hillock exposed in the swamp. He did his best to bind the mage’s arm and applied a poultice, before sitting back to wait.

He risked his life to save mine… Alistair pondered in awed silence. He risked everything to use his magic to save my life. Even after what I did to him. Alistair shuffled into a comfortable position, determined to keep watch until Jowan woke.

Jowan woke to nature calling him quite urgently a few hours later. Struggling to sit up, he came face to scowling face with Alistair. “Ah! Commander, I-”

A hand clamped onto his shoulder, keeping him in place. “You can explain yourself when I’m through.” Alistair’s face seemed slightly flushed and his eyes were bright and unfocused.

“No, Commander, I-”

“After!”

“Alistair!” Jowan yelled and then quickly lowered his voice, “There’s a bush somewhere out there that needs watering, and it’s got my name on it.”

Alistair blinked at him and then chuckled, before waggling his hand. “Fine, fine. Go,” a snort, “water the bush.”

Jowan rose gingerly to his feet, his drained body protesting the movement and he clenched his teeth against a pained groan. Waving off a helping hand from Alistair he shuffled off, looking for a suitable shrub.

After relieving himself, he shuffled back to the hillock only to see Alistair passed out in an unusual position on the ground. After a panicked check of the downed man’s vitals, he made a frustrated noise and muttered, “Alistair, you idiot. You’re in a swamp and you didn’t even think to take off your armor.”

Jowan sighed and set about removing his commander’s armor, one piece at a time, trying not to disrupt the man any more than he had to. He struggled with the unfamiliar buckles and straps for a while, before he finally figured them out and slid the splintmail off. He stood there a moment, wondering on where to put it, before he decided to just toss it in a corner and get the rest of the armor off.

That part of his task done, he sat back and peeled off his robes. I’d rather not get just as sick. He’s depending on me, and I’m weak enough as is. He was pleased to discover a lyrium potion in Alistair’s pack and downed it. Feeling some of his strength return, he soaked his robes in the water outside and, after wrapping them around Alistair, he let a whisper of magic frost his fingers and chill the water-soaked robes. There. He sat back on his heels, satisfied. That will keep the fever down. Now let’s see if there’s anything to cook in these packs.

Taking care to keep himself cool, cook, and keep a watchful eye on Alistair, Jowan spent the next few hours very busy.

When Alistair’s eyes fluttered open, Jowan was right beside him and pressed the back of his hand to the warrior’s forehead. “Fever’s gone,” he murmured and then smiled in relief. “Welcome back to the land of the living, commander.”

Alistair blinked groggily at him and then his eyes flickered around his surroundings, finally landing on Jowan’s nude form. “You’re naked!” he blurted, a blush infusing his cheeks as he scrambled to sit upward. Then he looked down at himself and he blushed down to his toes. “I’m naked!”

Jowan couldn’t help it. He started laughing. “Yes, Ser. You had a fever and this was the easiest way to keep you, as well as myself, cool.”

Alistair buried his face in his hands, and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

Alistair looked up, not meeting Jowan’s eyes. “I said: ‘I’m starving. Is the food I smell ready?’”

Jowan nodded and leaned over to the fire, picking up a bowl and dishing out some stew for Alistair. “Here, Ser. I’ve already eaten, so the rest is all yours.” Then he waited patiently for Alistair to devour three bowls of the stuff before they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly and bit his lip. “I want to apologise," he said softly. “I was wrong about you. I’m sorry. You’re not… not a monster.”

Jowan let a long breath out of his nose. “Thank you," he said softly. “That means a lot to me.”

The silence stretched again, until Alistair broke it once more, shuffling around. “I also want to apologise for the other day," he said, shamefaced. “I hurt you. I lashed out at you, and what I did was unforgivable.” He drew in a deep shaky breath. “Why didn’t you leave? Why do you stay? Why did you save my life?”

Jowan smiled. “Slow down. I can only answer one question at a time.” He pondered for a moment, unsure of where to begin. “All three of those have the same answer.” He bit his lip. “I love you, Alistair. I have for years. And we had this conversation last night, though I’m not surprised you don’t remember anything.”

“What?” Alistair blinked.

“You got yourself drunk.” Jowan snickered. “On half a tankard of Oghren’s vile ale. It was quite an amusing thing to see.”

“Oh, Maker.” Alistair paled. “What did I do?”

“Nothing really. You asked me to help me to your room.” Jowan grinned. “And then you made this very same apology. I’ll tell you the same thing I told you last night. If I’d wanted to run, you couldn’t have held me.” He wiggled his fingers.

Alistair sighed. “That’s still no excuse for what I did.”

“Alistair,” Jowan said very seriously, “I wanted that. Wanted you. I’d done all I could to make that clear, short of saying something outright. So let me make this very clear to you, right now.” He clenched his trembling hands together. “I love you, and I wanted that. I want you, and I want you to do that again. As often as you’d like.” He blushed.

Alistair gaped at him for a minute before closing his mouth with a click. “I was afraid,” he murmured. “I was afraid of the way I’d been feeling. I tried to push everything away by making up reasons to hate you; to keep you at a distance.” He placed a hand on Jowan’s cheek and pulled the two of them together for a slow, sensual kiss. “Can you forgive me?”

Jowan pressed his forehead to Alistair’s, feeling a grin tug at the corners of his lips. “Only if you keep kissing me like that.”

Alistair laughed and tilted the mage’s chin up, kissing him again. “I think I can manage that.”

Jowan surrendered himself to the kisses, keeping a hand on the back of Alistair’s head to make sure the ex-Templar wasn’t going to leave him there, wanting. No chance of that though, it seemed, as Alistair's hands gripped his shoulder and hip, pulling the two closer together. Jowan parted his lips under Alistair's, deepening the kiss. He felt almost dizzy as the blond's tongue gently caressed his own and then he nearly chuckled. Alistair still tasted like the cheese they'd had with dinner.

He was so wrapped up in finally kissing Alistair, that he didn't notice the hand had gone from his hip until thick and callused fingers wrapped around his erection. He gasped and shifted his hips a little, silently asking for more contact.

Alistair obliged, palming him gently, the motion a little awkward and hesitant, but enough to have him arching into the heat and breaking the kiss. Lidded eyes watched the growing expression of wonder on the other man's face, the delight Alistair seemed to have at being able to make him groan like he was.

Before he got too caught up in the pleasure of it all, Jowan ghosted a hand around to Alistair's front, taking him in hand and holding back a laugh at the stutter in the blonde's touch. His own strokes were a little more confident and watching the pleasure that was starting to come to Alistair's face, the parting of his lips, his eyes alternating between being open wide and pinched shut, and the little groans that escaped his throat.

“Maker.” The hand that wasn't wrapped around him drew him even closer, sliding around and into his hair to pull him into another kiss. “Jowan, that--”

“Mmm, I know.”

Alistair bit his lip. “Can I... C-c-can I...”

Jowan raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

“Just lay back!” Alistair said, pushing gently on Jowan's shoulder. ”Lay back and let me try something, alright?”

Jowan nodded and allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, legs partially spread with Alistair kneeling between them.

Alistair leaned over him, hands planted on either side of his chest, and began to pepper kisses all over Jowan's neck, down to his collarbone, and down his chest. When the blond reached Jowan's nipple, the fluttery kisses turned to short nips that had the mage groaning again. Hands clamped onto his shoulders as Alistair used teeth and tongue to turn both nipples into little peaks. When the blond seemed satisfied with his work, he continued his gentle kissing, hands now clamped on the Mage's hips.

Jowan looked up when the kisses stopped. “Alistair, what-?”

Alistair contemplated the bobbing organ in front of him for a moment, before he smiled a little and took the tip in his mouth, swirling his tongue around to get used to the taste of pure Jowan.

Jowan was remarkably proud of his self-control at this point. It took all he had to keep his hips still and not drive up into that wet heat. Though when those lips inched down around him and the tongue continued to swirl, a wail escaped his lips and he couldn't help but arch his hips up to meet those gentle bobs.

After a few minutes of this gentle torture, Jowan gripped Alistair's shoulders and let a little whimper escape. “Alistair, please,” he begged softly.

Alistair pulled back completely and sat on his heels. “Are you sure?”

Jowan nodded, and responded with a breathy, “Yes, Alistair. By the Maker’s shiny gold cutlery, yes.”

Alistair bit back a grin, swallowed hard and slicked his fingers well with saliva, before inserting the first. He watched Jowan's face carefully, ready to stop at the first sign of real pain, before inserting the second. He wriggled his fingers around, looking for that little knot of pleasure, and when he found it, he pressed, taking great delight in the way Jowan's body twitched and how the mage let loose another wail. Taking great care to keep hitting that spot, he scissored his fingers until he was sure he’d stretched Jowan enough.

Jowan lay back with his eyed closed, whimpering as the fingers were removed, but moaning when they were replaced by something substantially larger. He wrapped his legs around Alistair's waist and held his arms out, getting Alistair to pull him into an embrace.

Entwined like that, they rocked together, a rhythm they could feel, rather than hear. The slow buildup was almost more than Jowan could take and he buried his face into Alistair's shoulder until he felt tension coiling in his belly. With a desperate groan he pulled Alistair into another kiss, feeling his seed coat both of their stomachs.

Alistair followed him over the precipice not long after, unable to hold back after feeling Jowan's body spasm around him.

After holding each other for a few minutes longer Alistair pulled them apart with mirrored groans. He slumped to his side and pulled Jowan down with him, turning the mage so that his back was to Alistair's chest.

A smile played around Jowan’s lips as he settled into the larger man’s hold. Finally. I’ve finally made it. He closed his eyes, content, for the first time that he could remember.

Sometime later Jowan woke to a soft chuckle. Opening his eyes he saw Zevran standing at the mouth of the cave, smirking, as Anders and Nathaniel looked politely away.

Alistair woke with a groan, and upon hearing the Antivan laughing, he buried his face into Jowan's neck and said two words, “Not again.”