Fic: Into the Wilds (7/7)
Title: Into the Wilds (7/7)
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: ~ 1650
Warnings: Violence, rape (in part 6)
Author's note: Many thanks to
drakontion for the beta
Alistair felt like he'd been tossed into the middle of the road before Denerim's Great Gate. On Market Day, no less. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
What in the Black City, Void, and beyond had just happened? His last clear memory was of polishing off a bowl of stew…
He looked around then down. Oh Maker, he was naked. Good thing no one else was in this cottage. A jumble of effects and an open pack lay spread before the dying fire. Alistair rifled through them for clothes, none of them his, and dressed. The tunic was a bit tight in the shoulders, and the trousers ended well above his ankles, but they were clean. Someone had wiped down his armor, boots, and weapons, though he couldn't find his gambeson. Just as well; it had gotten soaked in blood and would have been burnt eventually.
Alistair was lacing his boots when he heard muffled voices through the closed door. Curious, he peeked outside.
"- right do you have to take Grey Warden property? I demand you hand over the treaties immediately!"
Morrigan, her mother, and four people whose faces he couldn't see in the waning light stood absorbed in a heated exchange. He stepped out for a closer look. That tall angry woman sounded familiar… Ser Erhyn?
The old witch crossed her arms. "Temper, young woman. You'd best keep a leash on your tongue. Graciousness will always serve you better than insolence."
"Know that you speak to a Templar and a Warden, apostate hag. I will not ask again." The warrior placed a hand on the pommel of her sword. "Give me the treaties. Now."
"Erhyn, maybe you shouldn't -" Alistair recognized the girl's voice and bearing: She was the apprentice they were always ribbing Cullen about in the barracks. What was her name? Salla, Sonna?
"Quiet, mage." Ser Erhyn turned to a dark-haired man who had opened his mouth to speak. "You as well, thief."
"I didn't say nothin'!" the man protested.
"You were about to."
Morrigan's mother strode between them. "Enough. Here are your treaties. And before you begin barking again, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."
"You - !"
The Circle mage took a leather case from the old woman and curtsied. "Thank you for returning them. We are grateful for your assistance."
"Now there's a smart girl. With such manners, too! They're always in the last place you look. Like stockings!" Only the old witch chuckled at the joke. Then she turned to Alistair, who had been watching a few paces away in the deepening shadows. "Ah, but I see our other guest has emerged. Perhaps we should make introductions?"
Six faces looked his way. Morrigan's eyes caught the orange-red sunlight peeking through the trees as she shifted her head.
Molten gold burning
Alistair stumbled back and almost tripped over a rotten log.
"Ser Alistair? How are you here? Are you alright? Maker, you're white as a sheet." The apprentice reached for his shoulder to steady him, but Alistair shied away, shaking his head clear. What had just happened?
"I - I'm fine. Thank you. I - "
"Ser Alistair? So they finally made you take your vows." The ex-Templar glared at the elder apostate. "What did you do to him?"
The old woman was all innocence. "Why, I found him dying in the Wilds and took him in, healed his wounds. See, he is unharmed."
Ser Erhyn's scowl deepened. "I don't believe you."
"It's true," Alistair confirmed. "Really, I'm alright. I was with three others at Jogby's camp, and we were ambushed by darkspawn. If it weren't for, for Morrigan, and her mother, I'd be dead too." His uncertain eyes flicked over to the younger witch, who turned away in haste, pursing her lips.
Bruising tongue choking
Alistair doubled over, nausea rising in his throat. What was wrong with him? Where were these intrusions coming from?
"You say you're well, but you sure don't look it, ser knight," said the thief. "Maybe you'd best come with us?" He offered a friendly arm up.
The shaky Templar gratefully grasped it. "Th-thank you. I think I will."
"Name's Daveth, by the way." He waved his other arm around. "This doughty fellow here's Ser Jory, knight of Redcliffe. I take it you know the lady mage and our fair leader?"
"Ser Erhyn I remember. You won that tournament in Denerim. But you… "
Alistair grew cold looking at the Circle mage, despite her concerned smile. But he knew her, nothing to be worried about here. He must be shivering from the evening chill. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name. The knight-captain never lets me stay for long…"
Her smile widened into a wry grin but failed to warm him. "I've noticed. Tarven's an ass." She ignored Erhyn's frown. "To refresh your memory, I'm Sanna, Sanna Amell. It's too bad you weren't around the Tower more. You were one of the few who didn't look at us like we'd explode into frogs at any moment.
"Not that it matters for me, now. I'm not with the Circle anymore. Jory, Daveth, and I are all Grey Warden recruits, and Warden Erhyn's been leading us to hunt darkspawn and dusty scrolls."
Recruits? "But… you're an apprentice! And why would the knight-commander let you out without more Templars?"
Sanna raised an eyebrow and studied Alistair as her expression clouded. "I went through my Harrowing, and a few other things, while you were gone. It's a long story."
"Not that I mind idle chatter," interrupted Morrigan with a pointed look at Sanna, "but you have what you came for, and even found an old acquaintance. Time for you to go, then."
"Do not be ridiculous, girl! These are your guests!" said her mother. "At least help this young man gather his things."
Morrigan sighed. "Very well. Follow me, Alistair." The Templar swallowed a ball of nerves when she said his name. "The rest of you may wait here. Then I will show you out of the woods." She started towards the hut, and as he turned to follow suit, Alistair could have sworn he saw something like unease ripple across the old witch's face.
Inside, the two of them were quiet as they crouched and arranged his belongings inside the pack. Alistair didn't dare look directly at Morrigan, and out of the corner of his eye he could see her doing the same with him.
She was handing him a vambrace when their fingers brushed.
Nails scraping skin
Woman screaming in childbirth
Blood magic? No, it couldn't have been -
He snatched his hand back as a startled Morrigan dropped the piece of armor. "Alistair, I -"
"Don't!" he shouted. "Don't say another word! What - whatever happened, I don't want to talk about it. Ever." He swung his face towards the fire. "In fact, it'd be best if you didn't talk to me at all."
A long silence strained between them. "I will respect your wishes, then." She reached to pick up the vambrace and placed it at his side, then knelt towards him, trying to catch his eye. Alistair refused to meet her gaze. "If I may - "
"If it's worth hearing, let's have it."
"I…" The witch wavered. "Nevermind. 'Twas only foolishness."
"Then keep it to yourself. If you'll allow me, I can finish packing on my own."
Morrigan stood rigid for a moment, then left without another word.
Alistair released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and crammed the rest of his things into the pack. The cuirass wasn't going to fit in there, but he couldn't wear it and have it chafe and pinch the whole walk out of the forest, nor did he have a proper swordbelt. He was going to have his hands full, holding sword and shield and chestpiece, but with four, no, five other people, and two mages to boot, he'd be safe enough, right?
For some reason he wasn't reassured, especially when thinking about the mages.
The moon shone red above the trees when he rejoined the group. "I'm ready," Alistair said, "although… Could I borrow a cloak from someone? Most of my things were… lost." His teeth chattered as a frigid wind howled from the south.
"Sure," Sanna piped cheerfully. "I don't really need mine, being a primal mage. I'll keep warm with a small fire spell." She moved to strip her cloak.
Alistair stepped away from her. "No!" he said a bit too loudly, then saw her questioning gaze and cringed. "I - Sorry, I just… It just wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me, taking a cloak from a lady. That's all. Really. I didn't mean to offend."
"What our lady mage said made sense, but you're right, ser knight. Here, have mine." Daveth handed his over. "Jory, give me yours."
"What? You cheeky - !" Jory sputtered. "If I'd wanted to lend my cloak I'd 've -"
"Jory, shut up and give Daveth your cloak. You can stand a little cold, can't you?" Erhyn sneered.
"I - Fine." He huffed as the former thief grinned. "Now can we be off? We've gotten everything Duncan asked of us."
Alistair perked up at the name. "Duncan?"
"Commander of the Fereldan Wardens. Not that there's many of us to command," Erhyn answered. "Come on, you louts. Morrigan, if you will?"
The witch glided past them and started for the woods. Sanna looked up at Alistair, her eyes a shining invitation, but he hung back.
"I'll just… stay in the middle, if that's okay. So you don't have to worry about me, being unarmored and all. You go on in front, with Erhyn."
Sanna looked disappointed but strode ahead. As she went by, he thought he heard her mutter, "Just my luck. Another paranoid Templar following me around."
Alistair sighed, and trudged once more into the wilds.
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: ~ 1650
Warnings: Violence, rape (in part 6)
Author's note: Many thanks to
drakontion for the beta
Alistair felt like he'd been tossed into the middle of the road before Denerim's Great Gate. On Market Day, no less. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
What in the Black City, Void, and beyond had just happened? His last clear memory was of polishing off a bowl of stew…
He looked around then down. Oh Maker, he was naked. Good thing no one else was in this cottage. A jumble of effects and an open pack lay spread before the dying fire. Alistair rifled through them for clothes, none of them his, and dressed. The tunic was a bit tight in the shoulders, and the trousers ended well above his ankles, but they were clean. Someone had wiped down his armor, boots, and weapons, though he couldn't find his gambeson. Just as well; it had gotten soaked in blood and would have been burnt eventually.
Alistair was lacing his boots when he heard muffled voices through the closed door. Curious, he peeked outside.
"- right do you have to take Grey Warden property? I demand you hand over the treaties immediately!"
Morrigan, her mother, and four people whose faces he couldn't see in the waning light stood absorbed in a heated exchange. He stepped out for a closer look. That tall angry woman sounded familiar… Ser Erhyn?
The old witch crossed her arms. "Temper, young woman. You'd best keep a leash on your tongue. Graciousness will always serve you better than insolence."
"Know that you speak to a Templar and a Warden, apostate hag. I will not ask again." The warrior placed a hand on the pommel of her sword. "Give me the treaties. Now."
"Erhyn, maybe you shouldn't -" Alistair recognized the girl's voice and bearing: She was the apprentice they were always ribbing Cullen about in the barracks. What was her name? Salla, Sonna?
"Quiet, mage." Ser Erhyn turned to a dark-haired man who had opened his mouth to speak. "You as well, thief."
"I didn't say nothin'!" the man protested.
"You were about to."
Morrigan's mother strode between them. "Enough. Here are your treaties. And before you begin barking again, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."
"You - !"
The Circle mage took a leather case from the old woman and curtsied. "Thank you for returning them. We are grateful for your assistance."
"Now there's a smart girl. With such manners, too! They're always in the last place you look. Like stockings!" Only the old witch chuckled at the joke. Then she turned to Alistair, who had been watching a few paces away in the deepening shadows. "Ah, but I see our other guest has emerged. Perhaps we should make introductions?"
Six faces looked his way. Morrigan's eyes caught the orange-red sunlight peeking through the trees as she shifted her head.
Molten gold burning
Alistair stumbled back and almost tripped over a rotten log.
"Ser Alistair? How are you here? Are you alright? Maker, you're white as a sheet." The apprentice reached for his shoulder to steady him, but Alistair shied away, shaking his head clear. What had just happened?
"I - I'm fine. Thank you. I - "
"Ser Alistair? So they finally made you take your vows." The ex-Templar glared at the elder apostate. "What did you do to him?"
The old woman was all innocence. "Why, I found him dying in the Wilds and took him in, healed his wounds. See, he is unharmed."
Ser Erhyn's scowl deepened. "I don't believe you."
"It's true," Alistair confirmed. "Really, I'm alright. I was with three others at Jogby's camp, and we were ambushed by darkspawn. If it weren't for, for Morrigan, and her mother, I'd be dead too." His uncertain eyes flicked over to the younger witch, who turned away in haste, pursing her lips.
Bruising tongue choking
Alistair doubled over, nausea rising in his throat. What was wrong with him? Where were these intrusions coming from?
"You say you're well, but you sure don't look it, ser knight," said the thief. "Maybe you'd best come with us?" He offered a friendly arm up.
The shaky Templar gratefully grasped it. "Th-thank you. I think I will."
"Name's Daveth, by the way." He waved his other arm around. "This doughty fellow here's Ser Jory, knight of Redcliffe. I take it you know the lady mage and our fair leader?"
"Ser Erhyn I remember. You won that tournament in Denerim. But you… "
Alistair grew cold looking at the Circle mage, despite her concerned smile. But he knew her, nothing to be worried about here. He must be shivering from the evening chill. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name. The knight-captain never lets me stay for long…"
Her smile widened into a wry grin but failed to warm him. "I've noticed. Tarven's an ass." She ignored Erhyn's frown. "To refresh your memory, I'm Sanna, Sanna Amell. It's too bad you weren't around the Tower more. You were one of the few who didn't look at us like we'd explode into frogs at any moment.
"Not that it matters for me, now. I'm not with the Circle anymore. Jory, Daveth, and I are all Grey Warden recruits, and Warden Erhyn's been leading us to hunt darkspawn and dusty scrolls."
Recruits? "But… you're an apprentice! And why would the knight-commander let you out without more Templars?"
Sanna raised an eyebrow and studied Alistair as her expression clouded. "I went through my Harrowing, and a few other things, while you were gone. It's a long story."
"Not that I mind idle chatter," interrupted Morrigan with a pointed look at Sanna, "but you have what you came for, and even found an old acquaintance. Time for you to go, then."
"Do not be ridiculous, girl! These are your guests!" said her mother. "At least help this young man gather his things."
Morrigan sighed. "Very well. Follow me, Alistair." The Templar swallowed a ball of nerves when she said his name. "The rest of you may wait here. Then I will show you out of the woods." She started towards the hut, and as he turned to follow suit, Alistair could have sworn he saw something like unease ripple across the old witch's face.
Inside, the two of them were quiet as they crouched and arranged his belongings inside the pack. Alistair didn't dare look directly at Morrigan, and out of the corner of his eye he could see her doing the same with him.
She was handing him a vambrace when their fingers brushed.
Nails scraping skin
Woman screaming in childbirth
Blood magic? No, it couldn't have been -
He snatched his hand back as a startled Morrigan dropped the piece of armor. "Alistair, I -"
"Don't!" he shouted. "Don't say another word! What - whatever happened, I don't want to talk about it. Ever." He swung his face towards the fire. "In fact, it'd be best if you didn't talk to me at all."
A long silence strained between them. "I will respect your wishes, then." She reached to pick up the vambrace and placed it at his side, then knelt towards him, trying to catch his eye. Alistair refused to meet her gaze. "If I may - "
"If it's worth hearing, let's have it."
"I…" The witch wavered. "Nevermind. 'Twas only foolishness."
"Then keep it to yourself. If you'll allow me, I can finish packing on my own."
Morrigan stood rigid for a moment, then left without another word.
Alistair released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and crammed the rest of his things into the pack. The cuirass wasn't going to fit in there, but he couldn't wear it and have it chafe and pinch the whole walk out of the forest, nor did he have a proper swordbelt. He was going to have his hands full, holding sword and shield and chestpiece, but with four, no, five other people, and two mages to boot, he'd be safe enough, right?
For some reason he wasn't reassured, especially when thinking about the mages.
The moon shone red above the trees when he rejoined the group. "I'm ready," Alistair said, "although… Could I borrow a cloak from someone? Most of my things were… lost." His teeth chattered as a frigid wind howled from the south.
"Sure," Sanna piped cheerfully. "I don't really need mine, being a primal mage. I'll keep warm with a small fire spell." She moved to strip her cloak.
Alistair stepped away from her. "No!" he said a bit too loudly, then saw her questioning gaze and cringed. "I - Sorry, I just… It just wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me, taking a cloak from a lady. That's all. Really. I didn't mean to offend."
"What our lady mage said made sense, but you're right, ser knight. Here, have mine." Daveth handed his over. "Jory, give me yours."
"What? You cheeky - !" Jory sputtered. "If I'd wanted to lend my cloak I'd 've -"
"Jory, shut up and give Daveth your cloak. You can stand a little cold, can't you?" Erhyn sneered.
"I - Fine." He huffed as the former thief grinned. "Now can we be off? We've gotten everything Duncan asked of us."
Alistair perked up at the name. "Duncan?"
"Commander of the Fereldan Wardens. Not that there's many of us to command," Erhyn answered. "Come on, you louts. Morrigan, if you will?"
The witch glided past them and started for the woods. Sanna looked up at Alistair, her eyes a shining invitation, but he hung back.
"I'll just… stay in the middle, if that's okay. So you don't have to worry about me, being unarmored and all. You go on in front, with Erhyn."
Sanna looked disappointed but strode ahead. As she went by, he thought he heard her mutter, "Just my luck. Another paranoid Templar following me around."
Alistair sighed, and trudged once more into the wilds.