There and Back - Chapter 183 - unedited, NSFW version

[elyssacousland]

The naming contest is done! There were actually 4 winners, and I will credit them with the characters they named once they show up. The winners were: River Addams, Samantha Realynn DeShong, Frank Montoya, and Callie Wallace.

This is the explicit, NSFW version of this chapter. If you'd prefer not to read the naughty bits, see the next entry.


Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Three: *Overload

It was hard to even think it; I’d hoped, sure, but the confirmation I’d received that I was Elissa Cousland was much more than I’d ever expected to get. The Chancellor and every nurse recognised me as though they’d seen me just yesterday. Surely I couldn’t look so much like her, and not actually be her?

I’d missed something Cylie said, and finally looked up in time to see the two nurses step out into the hallway with Fergus in tow.

I looked at Alistair in confusion, and he smiled softly at me. “She’s suggested that the nurses tell Teyrn Fergus about some identifying marks Elissa had, and then we can check if you have them.”

I blushed. “I’m not taking off my clothes. I don’t care what he thinks.”

Cylie laughed, startled. “Not that. I was thinking your tattoo - assuming you do have one?”

I nodded, thinking about the dress I was wearing and wondering if I could expose the tattoo without taking the whole thing off.

I was distracted from my musing by Aedan, who wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a hug. I could feel him trembling just as much as I was.

“This is…” He gestured around the room, his eyes wide.

I nodded. “Surreal. Very.” We clung together for another minute, separating when Fergus stepped back inside with the two nurses behind him.

“Do you have a tattoo, princess?” His face was pinched so hard it looked painful. If anyone else was surprised by his tone or obvious sarcastic nickname, they kept it to themselves. Except Aedan, who tightened his arm around me until it hurt.

I pushed away from my brother, nodding. I turned my back to Alistair, and he stepped up behind me to undo the laces of my dress. “Are you sure?” he whispered, quietly enough I knew no one else could hear. “You don’t have to do this.”

I didn’t respond, and after a brief hesitation, the dress fell loose around my chest, exposing my back. My breast band would block part of the image, I knew, and I nodded once, firmly, at Alistair. He sighed softly and untied it.

Keeping my arms crossed in front of me to hold the dress in place, I turned slowly so that Fergus and Cylie could see my tattoo. I’d gotten it back after we’d found Andraste’s Ashes - Zevran had drawn it for me, and it had taken hours - and the only person in the room who’d never seen it was Fergus.

The two nurses exclaimed when they saw it. “Yes!” one said. “That just showed up one day after one of her - your - extended disappearances. Like I told you, your Grace, a griffon and a dragon and a Chantry sun. We contemplated having it removed, but wanted to hear what her - your - parents said first.”

“Oh, Elissa,” the other nurse gushed, stepping around me to look at my face. “I’m so glad you’re safe. We’ve all been terrified, wondering what happened to you.” She pulled me into a hug, and I just stood there and let her.

I mumbled thanks when she released me, feeling like all the blood in my veins had frozen solid. I couldn’t even correct her using the wrong name. I didn’t know how to respond, had no idea what to say or even how I was supposed to feel. I’d spent so long on Earth thinking I was no one, only to find hope and family in Thedas, but now I finally had confirmation of who I was and where I’d come from. It was all too much.

Without a word, I let Alistair drag me through the curtain so he could help me back into my clothes. His hands were warm on my skin, and it should have been comforting, but the ice inside me refused to thaw even when he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my temple. “It’s okay. I love you.” I was grateful he didn’t seem to expect a response, and just let him propel me back out through the curtain.

The first thing I noticed was that Fergus was gone, as was one of the nurses. I couldn’t have said why, but my stomach roiled like I was on a roller coaster, dropping into my boots and leaving me queasy. Even Aedan’s smile and Zevran’s wink couldn’t rescue it.

The other nurse stepped over to the dresser, opening the top drawer and reaching inside. “I never thought I’d be the one to do this, and I’m so excited - there’s so many things here, Elissa, and I-”

“Sierra,” I interrupted.

She wasn’t fazed at all and just kept babbling. She pulled a few items out of the dresser: a book like the one Fergus had showed me back in Highever with my father’s writing in it; a handful of blankets and baby clothes, a stack of poorly made knitted sweaters, a small gold locket on a chain sized for a toddler. “Your parents left things here so you’d never feel alone,” she explained. “There’s a journal that they added to every time they visited, and clothes that the Teyrna thought you might like. Every time she visited she would try to knit you a sweater - and we’d rescue the results from the trash when she got frustrated. There are other portraits - we occasionally have an artist in residence who will do those for the families - and also portraits of your brothers. We put them away when you disappeared - they used to be on the top of the dresser.”

I stood in shock as item after item was either held up for me to see or shoved into my shaking hands for inspection. She took several framed drawings out and set them out - as she’d said, drawings of my parents with me, drawings of the family in Highever I’d never seen whole. I was completely overwhelmed; my legs began trembling just like my hands, and I blinked rapidly to keep the tears from flowing.

I couldn’t see my brother or my husband, my vision tunneling down to a small point of light - the nurse, still trying to shove more items into my hands. It was like the rest of the world ceased to exist, and it was just me and her and all of these things that I didn’t know what to do with. My fingers curled around something - the journal, I thought, and some fuzzy fabric I didn’t even look at - and she looked up at me again, her lips turning down into a concerned frown.

“Elissa?”

I lost it. “My name is Sierra!” I shrieked, and she froze, a hurt expression taking over for the concern. I glanced around, seeing shock on the faces of the others around, and without warning I burst into tears. I didn’t stop to put down the things I was carrying, or to try to explain - I just turned and bolted for the door before anyone could say anything.

I was out into the hallway and three doors down before I heard the shouting, but I ignored it and kept going. I had turned away from the direction we’d come, not wanting to run through the common area with all the staff and other patients, and I had to hope the door I could see at the end of the hallway led outside.

A few moments later I flew through it, and indeed found myself on a small, deserted patio overlooking both the edge of the rainforest and the beach. I didn’t stop, nearly leaping down from the veranda to the sand below. I kept going until I hit the edge of the water, stopping only to kick off my shoes - thankful they slipped off easily - so I could feel the wet sand between my toes. I stood there, tears streaming down my face, debating whether I wanted to just wade right in and allow the cool water to soothe me.

I heard pounding footsteps before I’d had a chance to make up my mind, and turned to see Aedan jogging towards me. “Sierra!” he called.

I staggered a few steps towards him and let him pull me into a bear hug. It felt unbelievably good to have him there, his steady presence a balm for my troubled soul. I sobbed on his shoulder, and he just allowed it, squeezing me silently.

Once the shudders shaking my shoulders stopped, I pulled away, though tears still trailed down my cheeks. I realised I still had my hands full - with a journal and a partially-unravelling wool sweater. I rubbed the tears off with the sweater irritably.

“I was all alone,” I realised I was shouting, but couldn’t seem to help it, “and no one cared and I had to do everything for myself. No one ever loved me. No one took care of me. I thought I’d been abandoned, that there was something wrong with me. And this whole time, they were here and I didn’t fucking know!” I waved the items in Aedan’s face spastically, and he reached out to grab my hands.

“I know.” He pulled on my hands and I stepped a few inches closer. “I’m so sorry, Sierra.”

I sobbed. “It’s not fair!”

“No.”

“And now they’re dead and I’m never going to…to…” My legs gave out, and I sank to my knees in the sand.

Aedan came with me, kneeling in front of me, still holding my hands, a few of his own tears making tracks on his face. “I know.”

“And Fergus still won’t care,” I whispered, remembering his guarded expression when he’d asked to see my tattoo. It was clear to me that the trip, in that sense, was a waste; Fergus was never going to accept me as his sister.

Aedan held out his arms, and I collapsed forward, weeping. It was only a few moments before we were joined there by Alistair and Zevran; my husband dropped down behind me, pressing his chest to my back and sandwiching me between him and Aedan; Zevran took one side, taking the journal from my hand and leaning forward to press a kiss to my cheek and then Aedan’s. I didn’t move, merely sat there and let them hold me until I ran out of tears.

Finally I sighed. “I’m such a drama queen.”

Alistair choked on a laugh, and I chuckled. I was suddenly exhausted. It wasn’t even lunchtime, but my eyes felt as heavy as if I’d been up all night. “I suppose they’re all looking at me, too.”

Zevran sat back and swivelled his head around briefly. “Maybe at first, but they’ve all gone inside now, mia sorella. You’re fine.”

“I’m going to need to go back there eventually, but…I don’t think I can right now. I just…I need…” I turned to Alistair. “Will you take me back to our room? I think I’d like to rest.”

He nodded and climbed to his feet, holding out his hand to help me up. I collected my shoes, which I’d thrown onto the beach, and Zevran handed me the journal he’d held for me. Aedan told me he wanted to go ask the Chancellor a few more questions, and promised to meet us for supper. Zevran offered to find someone to send lunch up for both Alistair and me.

I didn’t even notice Avanna until I was back on the wooden walkway around the building, but it was obvious she’d stayed back, watching but not interfering. I was grateful and embarrassed, and just flushed and looked away.

I slipped out of my dress once I was back in our room; the hem was damp from walking along the beach. We hadn’t redone the laces as tightly as normal, so it was easy to get off, and I dropped it in a pile on the floor. Alistair just watched me, his brow furrowed with concern as I crawled into the bed with a sigh. He perched on the edge beside me and I reached out and grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. He frowned in confusion. “I didn’t mean to run.”

He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I wasn’t worried about that,” he dismissed. “There’s a difference between running away, and running away from me.”

I smiled, my eyes drifting shut. “I love you.”

When I woke, the sun had moved enough that I thought it was probably afternoon. I sat up, groggy, rubbing my eyes and blinking at the light. When I looked around, I noticed my husband reclining in a padded armchair near the window, his legs sprawled out in front of him, fast asleep. The table beside him held a tray of food, half-eaten, and an open book lay on his chest. I was disappointed he wouldn’t have come to bed if he was tired - he was still healing, I knew, even if he was back to walking normally - but it was clear he hadn’t intended to fall asleep. The shadows under his eyes said he needed the rest, however.

I got up silently and slipped into a casual peasant dress and smalls, not even bothering with a breast band, patting at my hair and pinching my cheeks so I didn’t look too pale. I grabbed an apple off the tray, and after a moment of thought grabbed my parents’ journal, and then crept out of the room, leaving Alistair to sleep. I felt restless, and wanted to walk.

Avanna waited in the hallway, and she summoned Charles to stand guard at the door while she followed me down the stairs and outside. We hadn’t even seen another guest since arriving, and barely any of the staff; I didn’t feel like she needed to guard me, but I knew I’d never talk her out of it.

We went out the front door and then followed the walkway leading away from the building where Elissa’s - my - room was. We passed another identical building, and then ended up on the beach again. The sand was too hot for bare feet and the sun was blazing down, so after a few minutes walking through the surf, I headed a little inland until I was protected from the sun by the tropical trees on the edge of the rainforest. Rulia had promised there weren’t any predators on the island, so I weaved my way between some trees, enjoying the scent of exotic plants in the air.

There was a definite path ahead, so I knew we couldn’t get lost. The underbrush had been cleared, and the dirt was well-packed. I’d walked for another handful of minutes when I found myself back near the water, but in a place where the trees surrounded a small clearing and extended almost to the edge of the sea, making a nice, shady little spot. I clearly wasn’t the first to have found it; there was a hammock strung between two of the trees.

It was delightful, and I nearly squealed as I hurried over and climbed - ungracefully, as usual - into the swinging ropes. I’d gotten used to hammocks as beds on the pirate ship, and found they were far more comfortable than I’d expected; I curled up and just breathed for a moment, enjoying the tiny rays of sunshine piercing through the trees, the soothing sound of gentle waves lapping on the shore, and the fresh scent of flowers.

Avanna disappeared into the trees - nearby, I knew, but not so obvious, making me feel self-conscious - and I took a bite from my apple and opened the journal my parents had left me.

The first entry was in ugly, scrawling penmanship, and I knew it had to be my father’s; I’d seen his nearly illegible writing before, and this was the same. He addressed it as a letter to Elissa, and I winced, thinking back to when I’d shouted at the nurse. I’ll have to go apologize later. The entry was stilted, with scratched out words all over the place, but it described the journey my parents took with me as an infant, first to Rivain - where the seers were as clueless as every other healer they’d approached - and then to Llomerryn and Lhanbyrde. It was much like our own experience, with ships and pirates, except they had an infant with them - and of course, no Crows, thankfully.

The entry ended abruptly, mid-sentence, leaving the bottom half of a second page blank.

The next entry was in a beautiful, swooping script, dated the same day. My mother also wrote in the style of a letter, and apologised for my father - who was ‘overcome’ - and went on to more personal topics than the journey.

‘Elissa, I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but if you do, I want you to see these words and know how much you mean to us. I live for the hope that one day you will wake up and come home to us, and if that happens, this will be the first way you get to know us. Leaving you here will be the hardest thing I’ll ever do. The facility is lovely, of course, but it isn’t a home. However, not only do we have no idea how to care for you - the mages here can use magic and healing in a way not even the Circle could in Ferelden - but you would also be in danger, and I fear my grief at seeing you unresponsive every day would damage your brothers irreparably.

I hope some day you will forgive us for leaving you. I hope some day you will be alert enough to know there’s something to forgive. And some day I hope to see you smile at me, my darling daughter. We love you.’

I wiped a few tears away, tossed my apple core into the trees, and kept reading. Each time my parents visited, they both left at least one entry, usually more. Sometimes they told me about Highever and Aedan and Fergus, sometimes about their trips around Thedas on behalf of the Crown. Father’s entries became less strained, more natural as time went on, though he never gushed his feelings like Mother did. He would include details about the politics in Ferelden or trade deals with Orlais, intermingled with stories of my brothers and their escapades. Mother’s entries were always emotional, and the pages often stained with what I could only assume were her tears.

There were dozens of entries, though not all were dated; they must have visited Lhanbyrde nearly every year of my childhood. The last entry was from about a year before their deaths at the hands of Rendon Howe.

I was still flipping through, stopping to read snippets rather than the entire book from start to finish, when movement caught my eye; I looked up to see Alistair step into the clearing, his concerned look morphing into a smile when he saw me curled into the hammock. He turned to whisper something to Charles; they argued for a quick moment, and then with a reluctant nod, the guard went back the way they’d come.

Alistair nodded at the book in my hands as he walked up beside the hammock. “Anything good?”

I nodded, unable to express my chaotic emotions as I looked through the book. I was heart-warmed and humbled by their love and devotion, and struck with grief that I’d never be able to thank them - at the same time that I was resentful for my lonely, miserable childhood on Earth. I must have had a rather strange expression, because Alistair’s gaze softened and he held up his hand as though to assure me I didn’t need to explain.

Seeming to come to a decision, he reached over and took the journal, setting it down on a nearby rock. And then I squealed as he swung his leg up and over until he was straddling me, lifting my legs out of the way as he settled his rear into the ropes near the end of the hammock, his lower legs dangling on either side. Being so much larger than me, it tilted the hammock so that I now looked down on him, and I had to hold on to the ropes so I wouldn’t slide right down against him. He took one of my ankles in each hand and settled my legs over his, splayed out around his hips. My dress flipped up, bunching above my knees, and his warm hands stroked the smooth skin of my calves as I inched slowly down the incline towards him. The smile on his face was sinful and mischievous, and combined with his scar, the look took him from gorgeous to scorching hot.

“Alistair!” I chided, struggling to sit up and check for Avanna or Charles.

He chuckled, and the sound made my tummy flutter. “Don’t worry. I convinced them to wait at the trailhead.”

My gaze returned to him in shock. “You what?”

He didn’t respond, his hands inching higher on my legs until they edged underneath the fabric of my dress, his thumbs drawing soft circles on the skin of my inner thighs. I stiffened and the motion caused me to slide a few more inches so I was nearly in his lap. I gasped as he reached ever higher, holding my breath when his fingers grazed my smalls. My old Earth panties were long destroyed, and I wore more traditional Ferelden undergarments, which tied at my hips. No spandex makes for boring underwear. Before I could object, he’d untied the knots and pulled the slip of fabric off, leaving me bare except for the loose dress.

I was anxious we’d get caught, or that our guards would see, but I couldn’t stop the moan as his fingers ghosted over my sensitive slit. I was damp - soaked, actually, and wasn’t that a surprise - and I couldn’t decide between trying to wriggle away and trying to grind against his fingers. Regardless, my aimless twisting set the hammock to swinging softly, and I slipped the last few inches until the cheeks of my ass met his thighs.

He stroked me with his fingers, from my lower belly to my hips, my thighs to my center, even reaching further up to brush the undersides of my breasts. I took a breath to object - and then just couldn’t. It had been an emotional day, one that brought back ugly memories of my childhood and grief at what I had missed; I’d been living in my head since I’d woken, and I needed something to bring me back - to my body, and to the present. Alistair’s persistent, teasing touches did just that, and as I let go of my breath, I surrendered. I trusted him utterly, and I would trust that he knew what I needed - and would keep us safe.

I knew he’d understand from the way my body just melted under his hands - and I was right. His touches grew bolder, gently tweaking my nipples, squeezing my ass, and sliding into my folds, taking me higher and making me whimper and writhe. He didn’t linger in any one spot, and my eyes had fallen closed of their own volition, leaving me never knowing where the next touch would come. He kept me like that, aroused and muddled, constantly searching for more stimulation, shuddering and gasping until I was begging him for more.

“What do you want, Sierra?” He loved making me say it, watching me blush and squirm as he worked me up to spilling the naughty words I knew he wanted to hear.

He didn’t have to work hard for it, for once; he’d done good work, and combined with the morning I’d had, I was more than ready to use whatever filthy language was required to demand to be satisfied. “Don’t care - your mouth, your fingers, your cock, just let me come. Please, Alistair.”

He groaned, the sound almost tortured, and then he had two fingers inside me and my legs over his shoulders as he leaned forward and shoved me back up the slope of the hammock. The ropes burned on every inch of skin they scraped, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “As you wish.”

Before I could respond to the Earth reference, his mouth was on me and I lost the desire to say anything at all. He didn’t tease me, just started thrusting his fingers deep inside me as he lapped at my damp, swollen pearl. His other hand slid up my body to roll one nipple between his fingers and his thumb, and I nearly screamed as I arched under him and pressed myself against his face. I could feel my climax approaching, and obviously so could he; his fingers hit that spot inside that drove me wild, just as his teeth gently closed over my clit and he pinched my nipple firmly. I squealed and thrashed as wave after wave of pleasure rocked me; I couldn’t see, or think, or breathe, only feel and feel as he softly lowered me back from that edge, limp and weak.

I giggled, embarrassed, when he wiped his mouth off on his forearm with a cheeky grin. “I didn’t know that was possible in a hammock.”

“Oh, anything’s possible if a person is sufficiently motivated.” He winked as he grabbed my hips and pulled; my breath whooshed out of me as I slid back into his lap.

And then it was his turn to shudder; somehow without me noticing, and without interrupting the pleasure he was providing my willing body, he’d managed to unlace his trousers and shove them down enough that his hard length was bare - and now nestled snugly against my slit, being coated in my slick. I reached for him, but the angles we were at were wrong and in the end I had to settle with sliding my hands underneath my thighs to grip his knees. I rocked my pelvis against him and he hissed.

“Shirt off,” I demanded. “If I can’t reach you, at least let me see you.”

He complied with a shy grin, and I was please to see he didn’t even seem to think about his scars. His shirt joined my smalls on the ground. He pushed my dress up - it had flipped down as I’d shifted down the hammock - and bunched it under my armpits, leaving me bare from the breasts down. “Tit for tat, love.” He glanced down to where his erection pressed against me and groaned. “Sierra…”

I knew he was waiting for me, not wanting to rush me when I was still sensitive, but I hadn’t completely come back down from my climax, and his arousal drove my own until I was nearly delirious from need.

“Now, Alistair. Please, I’m ready now.”

He didn’t wait, wrapping his big hands around my hips. “Thank the Maker,” he muttered, then shifted and pulled until he slid inside me with a hoarse moan.

The position we were in defied any abrupt movement; he didn’t have the leverage to thrust, and I couldn’t lift. Instead we rocked together, encouraged by the swinging motion of the hammock, his length so deeply inside me it nearly hurt. Between him pushing and pulling on my waist and the both of us tilting our hips, we developed a rhythm and some friction, but it was slower than our usual love-making; gentler, though still incredibly intense. I could feel every shift, every shudder, and could see his eyes darken until there was only the tiniest ring of hazel around enormous, black pupils; I couldn’t look away, and we moved languorously as the heat between us rose higher and higher.

He moved one hand to rub his thumb over my clit, and I massaged his length with my internal muscles; with an oath and a cry, he lurched and came, triggering my own, earth-shattering orgasm. We shuddered together for an eternity, made more powerful by the eye contact we’d still managed to hold. I was spent and trembling, but oh, so satisfied.

Without untangling ourselves - or covering himself back up - he leaned back in the hammock and pulled my dress down, using the voluminous fabric to give us both the appearance of decency, despite the way our bodies were still connected underneath. We didn’t talk, just swung together in comfortable silence, but despite his casual appearance, every time I moved I could feel Alistair twitch inside me. He never softened, filling me past full and keeping me on the edge of arousal. I was still worried about being caught. It was sexy and naughty and downright infuriating, and by his too-innocent smile, he knew it. I wondered who would break first.

In the end it was a mutual thing; I squeezed and he shifted and then we were writhing together again. He leaned forward and took my hands, and gazes locked, we rocked together until we both came again, breathless and shivering.