Fic: Into the Wilds (4/7)
Title: Into the Wilds (4/7)
Summary: AU - Ser Alistair, Templar of the Circle Tower, is sent into the Korcari Wilds on a search for Chasind apostates. What he finds is not what he expects.
Pairing: Alistair/Morrigan
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 2500
Warnings: Violence, rape (in part 6)
Author's note: Many thanks to
drakontion for the beta
They didn't get far in the fading light when the first arrow sang past Alistair's shoulder.
"Maker! They've spotted us!" he cried in alarm.
"Clearly," Morrigan hissed. "We must find cover. This way!" She led them out of the small clearing into dense thicket as more arrows flew by.
Brambles and sharp leaves scratched his face and caught on the pack and his armor, but the witch slipped through the brush with graceful ease. "Ow ow ow!" Alistair yelped as an evil twig gouged across his eyelid. "Couldn't you have picked a less thorny patch?"
"Quiet, fool! Do you want them to discover us?" the witch chided in a harsh whisper.
Alistair pouted but kept his mouth shut as he tried to keep up with her. Something snagged his foot, tripping him, though he caught himself in time to prevent a face-plant. He pulled at his leg, but it refused to come loose. "Blast it, I'm stuck." The ominous heavy crashing behind them was getting louder. "Um, a little help here? Please?"
Morrigan gave an exasperated sigh as she made her way back to him. "And here you claim to be proficient at woodcraft."
"They taught us to track, not evade. Mages don't exactly go after Templars, you know." Alistair held back arms of shrubbery, and the witch knelt to work him free of an ensnaring vine.
"If all Templars are as slow and - Mmf," she grunted as she yanked, "dimwitted as you - Ungh - perhaps we should. There!"
They rose to leave when a greatsword cleaved a large bush into a stump not a body length away. Mage and Templar froze as an enormous darkspawn wearing a horned helm strode through the cleared space, its deep laughter rousing them to their senses. They bolted, only to be stopped short by a ring of ghastly arms and heads bursting out of the ground.
"They just pop up everywhere, don't they? Did you know they could do that?" said Alistair as he settled sword and shield in his hands and dropped into a protective crouch over Morrigan.
The witch gave no reply but twisted her hands in an arcane gesture, then shot an arm upward and shouted a word of power. All of the darkspawn stumbled back, dazed, save the big helmeted one, which merely shook its head and attacked.
"Nice stunning spell," said Alistair, ducking the greatsword's swing. "I wish I had that power."
"Save your breath," Morrigan muttered as she brushed past him and broke into a sprint.
He rolled his eyes before following suit. "Why thank you, Alistair, you are too kind," the warrior grumbled, then screamed when his next step met air instead of ground. He found himself tumbling down a steep grassy hill and threw away his arms to keep from impaling himself. At last he slowed to a stop in a shallow pond. He wiggled his limbs to check for injuries before he stood with a groan; Maker be praised, nothing had sprained, although his bruises were going to have bruises.
"Brirr," Alistair shivered as he jogged out of the freezing water and shook drops from his eyes. The witch, of course, was standing, snickering and dry, at the bottom of the slope he'd gotten to know so well. "You could have warned me, you know."
"And deprive myself of such amusement? I think not."
"Heartless bitch." He picked up his sword and shield, which had landed close to the water.
"Bumbling idiot," she smirked, and started running again. "Do try to keep your eyes open. This way!"
Morrigan led them through what appeared to be a maze of ruins sinking into open swamp. Tevinter, he guessed, judging by the arches and ornate columns. Alistair glanced over his shoulder, and in the cloudy twilight he could make out a horned figure leading almost a score of enemies towards them. An unfamiliar slickness crept over his tongue.
"Hold on," he called to the witch. "You're not casting, are you?"
"Do I look like I'm casting?"
"I was just checking! I think they have some sort of magic user." He grimaced as the taste grew bolder.
Morrigan paused and gazed into the middle distance. "Indeed," she confirmed. "Grey Wardens call it an emissary."
"Just when it couldn't get any better," Alistair muttered. "How well do you know these ruins?"
"Well enough. Why?"
"We can't keep running, not with all those archers and that emissary. We need to find a chokepoint, one that has some cover from arrows."
The witch pondered a moment as she looked around then nodded. "I believe I know of such a place." She darted across some fallen masonry and headed for a crumbling silhouette. Alistair stayed close behind.
They stopped at a narrow doorway into what was once some kind of residence on a small island. The floor was paved with dry flagstones; columns framed the entrance and stood just wide enough for two men to walk abreast. The walls, broken but largely intact, would with luck provide sufficient cover, and the lone entry into the structure sat atop a short flight of crooked stone stairs.
"Perfect," said Alistair. He dropped the pack behind a chunk of collapsed ceiling and took out the water skin for a quick drink before the darkspawn arrived. Then a thought came to him, and he motioned at Morrigan. "Would you hand me one of those vials I gave you?"
"What for? You are no mage."
"Yes, well, Templars use lyrium for their abilities. Not something the Chantry likes to advertise, as it also keeps us in line since we get addicted."
Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Is there nothing to which your Chantry will not stoop?"
Alistair sighed, "At any rate, the blue stuff doubles as a pick-me-up, which I need badly. I've had little sleep and no food here."
The witch pursed her lips but silently handed him a vial. He uncorked it and took a sip. "Ugh," he shuddered as he fought back the initial headache. "Tasty. Alright, I'm done." A giddy rush chased away his aches and exhaustion, and he tried not to giggle.
"You do not need more?" asked Morrigan as she replaced the stopper and tucked away the vial.
"A little goes a long way for me." Alistair peered through the doorway. "Ah, here they come! Get behind me!" He moved to block as much of the entrance as he could with his body and jerked his shield up in time to catch an arrow.
"I am no wilting flower!" Morrigan protested as she flung a hex.
Alistair heard a bowstring loose and threw out his shield to stop another arrow from piercing Morrigan's chest, then turned to bash a short darkspawn in the head. It fell down the stairs, knocking over at least two others. "Far from it, but let me handle the pointy stuff while you do your thing," he panted between parries and blocks. A dagger slipped past his guard but luckily did not sink deep into an exposed point under his arm. He responded with a stroke of his sword, parting the limb grasping the offending weapon from its owner.
The witch glared at him but readied a spell. "Step right!" she cried, and a stream of frigid air shot forth from her hands, encasing a swath of darkspawn in ice.
"Now that is a neat trick! Could you please do that again?" Alistair found that if he smashed the frozen creatures hard enough in unprotected places with his shield or the pommel of his sword, they would splinter into bloody chunks, and he shattered as many as he could without stepping too far from the protective doorway. A grin threatened to dance across his features; he could get used to this, fighting alongside a mage.
Then a slimy, bitter flavor joined that of Morrigan's power, and a ball of flames tossed them both onto their backs. Alistair heard breath rush out of the witch as he landed on top of her. The shield kept the worst of the spell from hitting his face, but he could feel the chafing of mild burns where metal armor wasn't sufficiently padded.
Morrigan pushed the warrior off of her with strength borrowed from fury. "You will learn to fear me!" she raged. Arcs of lightning leapt from her hands, followed by screeches of agony from the darkspawn.
Alistair got up, ignoring his pain and focusing his will. He scanned the remaining creatures for the emissary and spotted it at the back of the raiding party, next to the huge horned darkspawn. The blighted mage noticed his gaze and grinned at him, raising a gnarled staff to cast some nasty spell. "Oh no you don't," he yelled, and threw wide his arms in a practiced gesture.
The night shone bright as day, as an enormous pillar of light smashed down from the sky and into all the darkspawn. Alistair shaded his eyes with a hand and thought he could see a few fly backwards into the deep water nearby. Once his sight readjusted to the darkness, he estimated they had less than a dozen enemies left, including maybe three archers, and all of them momentarily stunned by the smite.
"I am almost empty of mana," Morrigan announced.
Alistair frowned. "There's no more lyrium?"
"None, but I have one more spell." She touched his shoulder and stepped in front of him. "Do not be alarmed."
An explosion on his tongue - that rustling rabble of butterflies and the stickiness from a faceful of dusty cobwebs - and where the witch had stood was now the biggest, hairiest spider he'd ever seen: It rivaled most ponies in size. Alistair braced himself against a broken pillar as he tried not to faint or cry.
"GYAH! Maker's breath! What are you?"
The spider tossed him a condescending glance - part of his brain gibbered at the absurdity - before it overwhelmed and savaged the nearest darkspawn with glistening fangs and an unearthly shriek.
Alistair shook his head clear and threw himself into the fray to join the Morrigan-spider. "Alright, who ordered death?" he challenged, and hacked his way towards the still-dazed emissary to run it through.
He had no sooner removed his sword from its corpse when a greatsword came at him out of the corner of his eye. Damn, the big one had flanked him! He overbalanced as he dodged the swing and stumbled forward into a squat archer. A lucky swipe of his blade cut its bowstring; he jumped aside to avoid a sweep aimed at his gut, and instead the greatsword decapitated the archer with a fountaining spray of blood.
Alistair liked the mobility of splintmail, but now would be a good time to wear that blasted heavy plate armor.
He was backing away from the great horned darkspawn and a shorter one when a clattering shriek caught his attention. A few paces away, three melee fighters had surrounded the Morrigan-spider, which was rearing in rage and pain, streaks of greenish ooze painting its legs and abdomen. Another archer was flanking the witch and doing its best to turn her into a pincushion.
"Morrigan, take care of the archer and get back to the doorway!" Alistair shouted before turning his focus back to the two figures before him. Snarling, he threw his weight behind his shield to knock over the shorter creature and rammed his sword into its face, then yanked free his blade, narrowly sidestepping a swing of the greatsword. The big darkspawn raised both arms for another mighty blow, but Alistair rushed forward to pummel it with his shield and force it to retreat with each strike. As it stood dazed, he ran past the horned darkspawn to come to Morrigan's aid.
She was still fighting off multiple enemies but had done as he'd ordered: The archer lay in a gruesome mess of blood and webbing, and the spider had backed up the stairs and was squeezing through the narrow doorframe. Alistair roared as he barreled towards her to grab the darkspawns' notice, along the way bowling a stocky one into a tall fighter. Morrigan clicked and chittered in annoyance.
"Sure you had them covered," he answered as he again positioned himself before the entry, leaving enough space for the spider to dart forward and wrap one enemy in silk, then he lunged ahead to cut down their remaining creatures. "A little more dying, please?" Alistair asked a tall one when it refused to keel over after a good stab in its thigh, but it didn't get to respond before a heavily armored arm knocked it aside. The horned darkspawn stood in its place, a blood-curdling grin shining from under its helmet.
Alistair's muscles refused to obey in time. The greatsword crashed down on his left pauldron and parted metal, leather, wool, and sinew before crunching halfway through his collarbone. He crumpled to his knees under the force of the blow and dropped his shield as his arm went limp. Out to his left, the edge of the huge blade winked a parting gesture as it prepared to separate his head from his neck.
A high-pitched screech stabbed his ears. Alistair blinked when he realized he was still in one piece, and blinked again to see the Morrigan-spider tackle the huge darkspawn. She knocked the greatsword out of its hands, though it stayed on its feet and managed to gain high ground. Fangs bared, she lunged at its neck, but the horned creature seized two of the witch's forelegs and bent her joints the wrong way with sickening snaps. As she screamed, it adjusted its grip and wrenched her onto her back.
Before he could think through what he was doing, Alistair leapt to his feet and checked the darkspawn with his good shoulder. It tripped over one of Morrigan's legs and fell on its side, striking its head on a stone step. Alistair planted a foot on the monster's chest and shoved his sword through a gap in its helmet.
He straightened and stepped back, taking in fast, shaky breaths and scanning for any more foes, but didn't see anything move other than a now-human Morrigan slowly sitting up and holding stiff arms a little out from her sides. Deep purple bruises covered her wrists, and her hands hung at odd angles. Alistair wobbled towards her. The adrenaline- and lyrium-fueled rush that had buoyed him through the battle was draining out of his body, and he collapsed against the wall beside her.
"Nothing like a brush with death to make you…not like death much," he quipped in a weak voice and turned his head up to meet the witch's eyes. Alistair tried to read her expression, but his vision swam and darkened, and his breaths grew shorter and faster. So cold, the night was so cold… He glimpsed a small crease of annoyance - or was it worry? - marring Morrigan's perfect brow. Alistair wanted to smooth it out with his thumb, but blackness held him down, and dragged him away.
Summary: AU - Ser Alistair, Templar of the Circle Tower, is sent into the Korcari Wilds on a search for Chasind apostates. What he finds is not what he expects.
Pairing: Alistair/Morrigan
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 2500
Warnings: Violence, rape (in part 6)
Author's note: Many thanks to
drakontion for the beta
They didn't get far in the fading light when the first arrow sang past Alistair's shoulder.
"Maker! They've spotted us!" he cried in alarm.
"Clearly," Morrigan hissed. "We must find cover. This way!" She led them out of the small clearing into dense thicket as more arrows flew by.
Brambles and sharp leaves scratched his face and caught on the pack and his armor, but the witch slipped through the brush with graceful ease. "Ow ow ow!" Alistair yelped as an evil twig gouged across his eyelid. "Couldn't you have picked a less thorny patch?"
"Quiet, fool! Do you want them to discover us?" the witch chided in a harsh whisper.
Alistair pouted but kept his mouth shut as he tried to keep up with her. Something snagged his foot, tripping him, though he caught himself in time to prevent a face-plant. He pulled at his leg, but it refused to come loose. "Blast it, I'm stuck." The ominous heavy crashing behind them was getting louder. "Um, a little help here? Please?"
Morrigan gave an exasperated sigh as she made her way back to him. "And here you claim to be proficient at woodcraft."
"They taught us to track, not evade. Mages don't exactly go after Templars, you know." Alistair held back arms of shrubbery, and the witch knelt to work him free of an ensnaring vine.
"If all Templars are as slow and - Mmf," she grunted as she yanked, "dimwitted as you - Ungh - perhaps we should. There!"
They rose to leave when a greatsword cleaved a large bush into a stump not a body length away. Mage and Templar froze as an enormous darkspawn wearing a horned helm strode through the cleared space, its deep laughter rousing them to their senses. They bolted, only to be stopped short by a ring of ghastly arms and heads bursting out of the ground.
"They just pop up everywhere, don't they? Did you know they could do that?" said Alistair as he settled sword and shield in his hands and dropped into a protective crouch over Morrigan.
The witch gave no reply but twisted her hands in an arcane gesture, then shot an arm upward and shouted a word of power. All of the darkspawn stumbled back, dazed, save the big helmeted one, which merely shook its head and attacked.
"Nice stunning spell," said Alistair, ducking the greatsword's swing. "I wish I had that power."
"Save your breath," Morrigan muttered as she brushed past him and broke into a sprint.
He rolled his eyes before following suit. "Why thank you, Alistair, you are too kind," the warrior grumbled, then screamed when his next step met air instead of ground. He found himself tumbling down a steep grassy hill and threw away his arms to keep from impaling himself. At last he slowed to a stop in a shallow pond. He wiggled his limbs to check for injuries before he stood with a groan; Maker be praised, nothing had sprained, although his bruises were going to have bruises.
"Brirr," Alistair shivered as he jogged out of the freezing water and shook drops from his eyes. The witch, of course, was standing, snickering and dry, at the bottom of the slope he'd gotten to know so well. "You could have warned me, you know."
"And deprive myself of such amusement? I think not."
"Heartless bitch." He picked up his sword and shield, which had landed close to the water.
"Bumbling idiot," she smirked, and started running again. "Do try to keep your eyes open. This way!"
Morrigan led them through what appeared to be a maze of ruins sinking into open swamp. Tevinter, he guessed, judging by the arches and ornate columns. Alistair glanced over his shoulder, and in the cloudy twilight he could make out a horned figure leading almost a score of enemies towards them. An unfamiliar slickness crept over his tongue.
"Hold on," he called to the witch. "You're not casting, are you?"
"Do I look like I'm casting?"
"I was just checking! I think they have some sort of magic user." He grimaced as the taste grew bolder.
Morrigan paused and gazed into the middle distance. "Indeed," she confirmed. "Grey Wardens call it an emissary."
"Just when it couldn't get any better," Alistair muttered. "How well do you know these ruins?"
"Well enough. Why?"
"We can't keep running, not with all those archers and that emissary. We need to find a chokepoint, one that has some cover from arrows."
The witch pondered a moment as she looked around then nodded. "I believe I know of such a place." She darted across some fallen masonry and headed for a crumbling silhouette. Alistair stayed close behind.
They stopped at a narrow doorway into what was once some kind of residence on a small island. The floor was paved with dry flagstones; columns framed the entrance and stood just wide enough for two men to walk abreast. The walls, broken but largely intact, would with luck provide sufficient cover, and the lone entry into the structure sat atop a short flight of crooked stone stairs.
"Perfect," said Alistair. He dropped the pack behind a chunk of collapsed ceiling and took out the water skin for a quick drink before the darkspawn arrived. Then a thought came to him, and he motioned at Morrigan. "Would you hand me one of those vials I gave you?"
"What for? You are no mage."
"Yes, well, Templars use lyrium for their abilities. Not something the Chantry likes to advertise, as it also keeps us in line since we get addicted."
Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Is there nothing to which your Chantry will not stoop?"
Alistair sighed, "At any rate, the blue stuff doubles as a pick-me-up, which I need badly. I've had little sleep and no food here."
The witch pursed her lips but silently handed him a vial. He uncorked it and took a sip. "Ugh," he shuddered as he fought back the initial headache. "Tasty. Alright, I'm done." A giddy rush chased away his aches and exhaustion, and he tried not to giggle.
"You do not need more?" asked Morrigan as she replaced the stopper and tucked away the vial.
"A little goes a long way for me." Alistair peered through the doorway. "Ah, here they come! Get behind me!" He moved to block as much of the entrance as he could with his body and jerked his shield up in time to catch an arrow.
"I am no wilting flower!" Morrigan protested as she flung a hex.
Alistair heard a bowstring loose and threw out his shield to stop another arrow from piercing Morrigan's chest, then turned to bash a short darkspawn in the head. It fell down the stairs, knocking over at least two others. "Far from it, but let me handle the pointy stuff while you do your thing," he panted between parries and blocks. A dagger slipped past his guard but luckily did not sink deep into an exposed point under his arm. He responded with a stroke of his sword, parting the limb grasping the offending weapon from its owner.
The witch glared at him but readied a spell. "Step right!" she cried, and a stream of frigid air shot forth from her hands, encasing a swath of darkspawn in ice.
"Now that is a neat trick! Could you please do that again?" Alistair found that if he smashed the frozen creatures hard enough in unprotected places with his shield or the pommel of his sword, they would splinter into bloody chunks, and he shattered as many as he could without stepping too far from the protective doorway. A grin threatened to dance across his features; he could get used to this, fighting alongside a mage.
Then a slimy, bitter flavor joined that of Morrigan's power, and a ball of flames tossed them both onto their backs. Alistair heard breath rush out of the witch as he landed on top of her. The shield kept the worst of the spell from hitting his face, but he could feel the chafing of mild burns where metal armor wasn't sufficiently padded.
Morrigan pushed the warrior off of her with strength borrowed from fury. "You will learn to fear me!" she raged. Arcs of lightning leapt from her hands, followed by screeches of agony from the darkspawn.
Alistair got up, ignoring his pain and focusing his will. He scanned the remaining creatures for the emissary and spotted it at the back of the raiding party, next to the huge horned darkspawn. The blighted mage noticed his gaze and grinned at him, raising a gnarled staff to cast some nasty spell. "Oh no you don't," he yelled, and threw wide his arms in a practiced gesture.
The night shone bright as day, as an enormous pillar of light smashed down from the sky and into all the darkspawn. Alistair shaded his eyes with a hand and thought he could see a few fly backwards into the deep water nearby. Once his sight readjusted to the darkness, he estimated they had less than a dozen enemies left, including maybe three archers, and all of them momentarily stunned by the smite.
"I am almost empty of mana," Morrigan announced.
Alistair frowned. "There's no more lyrium?"
"None, but I have one more spell." She touched his shoulder and stepped in front of him. "Do not be alarmed."
An explosion on his tongue - that rustling rabble of butterflies and the stickiness from a faceful of dusty cobwebs - and where the witch had stood was now the biggest, hairiest spider he'd ever seen: It rivaled most ponies in size. Alistair braced himself against a broken pillar as he tried not to faint or cry.
"GYAH! Maker's breath! What are you?"
The spider tossed him a condescending glance - part of his brain gibbered at the absurdity - before it overwhelmed and savaged the nearest darkspawn with glistening fangs and an unearthly shriek.
Alistair shook his head clear and threw himself into the fray to join the Morrigan-spider. "Alright, who ordered death?" he challenged, and hacked his way towards the still-dazed emissary to run it through.
He had no sooner removed his sword from its corpse when a greatsword came at him out of the corner of his eye. Damn, the big one had flanked him! He overbalanced as he dodged the swing and stumbled forward into a squat archer. A lucky swipe of his blade cut its bowstring; he jumped aside to avoid a sweep aimed at his gut, and instead the greatsword decapitated the archer with a fountaining spray of blood.
Alistair liked the mobility of splintmail, but now would be a good time to wear that blasted heavy plate armor.
He was backing away from the great horned darkspawn and a shorter one when a clattering shriek caught his attention. A few paces away, three melee fighters had surrounded the Morrigan-spider, which was rearing in rage and pain, streaks of greenish ooze painting its legs and abdomen. Another archer was flanking the witch and doing its best to turn her into a pincushion.
"Morrigan, take care of the archer and get back to the doorway!" Alistair shouted before turning his focus back to the two figures before him. Snarling, he threw his weight behind his shield to knock over the shorter creature and rammed his sword into its face, then yanked free his blade, narrowly sidestepping a swing of the greatsword. The big darkspawn raised both arms for another mighty blow, but Alistair rushed forward to pummel it with his shield and force it to retreat with each strike. As it stood dazed, he ran past the horned darkspawn to come to Morrigan's aid.
She was still fighting off multiple enemies but had done as he'd ordered: The archer lay in a gruesome mess of blood and webbing, and the spider had backed up the stairs and was squeezing through the narrow doorframe. Alistair roared as he barreled towards her to grab the darkspawns' notice, along the way bowling a stocky one into a tall fighter. Morrigan clicked and chittered in annoyance.
"Sure you had them covered," he answered as he again positioned himself before the entry, leaving enough space for the spider to dart forward and wrap one enemy in silk, then he lunged ahead to cut down their remaining creatures. "A little more dying, please?" Alistair asked a tall one when it refused to keel over after a good stab in its thigh, but it didn't get to respond before a heavily armored arm knocked it aside. The horned darkspawn stood in its place, a blood-curdling grin shining from under its helmet.
Alistair's muscles refused to obey in time. The greatsword crashed down on his left pauldron and parted metal, leather, wool, and sinew before crunching halfway through his collarbone. He crumpled to his knees under the force of the blow and dropped his shield as his arm went limp. Out to his left, the edge of the huge blade winked a parting gesture as it prepared to separate his head from his neck.
A high-pitched screech stabbed his ears. Alistair blinked when he realized he was still in one piece, and blinked again to see the Morrigan-spider tackle the huge darkspawn. She knocked the greatsword out of its hands, though it stayed on its feet and managed to gain high ground. Fangs bared, she lunged at its neck, but the horned creature seized two of the witch's forelegs and bent her joints the wrong way with sickening snaps. As she screamed, it adjusted its grip and wrenched her onto her back.
Before he could think through what he was doing, Alistair leapt to his feet and checked the darkspawn with his good shoulder. It tripped over one of Morrigan's legs and fell on its side, striking its head on a stone step. Alistair planted a foot on the monster's chest and shoved his sword through a gap in its helmet.
He straightened and stepped back, taking in fast, shaky breaths and scanning for any more foes, but didn't see anything move other than a now-human Morrigan slowly sitting up and holding stiff arms a little out from her sides. Deep purple bruises covered her wrists, and her hands hung at odd angles. Alistair wobbled towards her. The adrenaline- and lyrium-fueled rush that had buoyed him through the battle was draining out of his body, and he collapsed against the wall beside her.
"Nothing like a brush with death to make you…not like death much," he quipped in a weak voice and turned his head up to meet the witch's eyes. Alistair tried to read her expression, but his vision swam and darkened, and his breaths grew shorter and faster. So cold, the night was so cold… He glimpsed a small crease of annoyance - or was it worry? - marring Morrigan's perfect brow. Alistair wanted to smooth it out with his thumb, but blackness held him down, and dragged him away.