Vhenan Aravel
Chapter 19: Strange Bedfellows - Meeting of the Minds

Copyright© 2017 by eatenbydragons

Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 19: Strange Bedfellows - Meeting of the Minds - Raviathan, a city elf with too many secrets and regrets, undergoes a long journey in order to find his way in the world. Part 1 is a Dragon Age Blight fic with many additions and twists to the original story. This story starts off on the fluffy side, but beware. Thar be dragons, and it will dip into darker territories. I'd rather overtag for potential triggers than undertag. Rape and prostitution occur rarely in the overall narrative, but they are present.

Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/Ma   Consensual   Magic   Rape   Reluctant   Romantic   Gay   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Fan Fiction   High Fantasy   Interracial   Anal Sex   Analingus   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Prostitution  

Dawn broke with dark clouds brooding to the south. A clammy oppressiveness indicated rain, or more likely sleet, was on it’s way. Unperturbed by the weather, Raviathan peppered Duncan with questions with even more interest than he had the day before. What did it take to be an official Grey Warden? What was the Joining Ritual? Were they under the King’s command? If not, did they still have to obey the same laws? How was the Order organized? Where were the other Grey Wardens located? How old was the Order? How many Grey Wardens were there? And so on.

Conversation helped Raviathan keep his mind off his aches from the long miles of walking. He had maintained his physique with the exercises his mother had taught him, but there wasn’t much walking in the tiny alienage. Different muscles were being put to the test, and between that and the cold, Raviathan felt decidedly stiff.

Duncan tried to appease the lad’s curiosity by detailing what he knew about the First through Fourth Blights. By noon, Duncan had run out of answers he could give about the Wardens and their history. “Rav, I wish I could tell you everything now, but some of this is secret to the Order. I promise after you’re an official Grey Warden, I and the others will answer any questions you have to the best of our ability and without reservation, but you must be patient for now.”

The elf crossed his arms looking away. “Am I bothering you?”

“No, no. I’m glad you’re curious, but there are reasons why I can’t answer now. There are secrets known only to the Wardens. You’ll understand in time.” Duncan heard a soft sigh as the elf acquiesced. “If you don’t mind my asking.” Raviathan looked up at him with mild curiosity. “I have a few questions.”

The elf gave a rueful grin. “Okay. I can’t imagine I have anything interesting to say though.”

“Let’s start with this. You carry your clothes and the like in the sack, so what’s in the case?” He suspected he knew from the apothecary’s interest the day before, but he wanted to hear it from the elf.

Raviathan looked down at the case, surprised by the question. “It’s my healer’s kit.”

“Then you know the healing arts?” Duncan asked in delight. An herbalist or someone skilled in poisons he had expected, but a healer would be immensely valuable.

“My aunt taught me. I know a bit about herbs, how to make poultices, compresses, tinctures, potions, splints, casts, set bones, how to clean and stitch a wound and keep it from infection and the like. I can deliver babies too, but I doubt you’ll need much of that. Solyn made sure I knew everything she did.”

Duncan grinned. “So you’re a physician as well as an herbalist?”

“Sure,” the elf said nonchalantly, but he could tell by Duncan’s grin that his skills would be put to use. There was satisfaction in that. He was coming to terms with his new fate, and it was gratifying that his skills which always had to be hidden were finally going to be useful without the fear he had before. It was an odd freedom that this conscription had brought.

“Excellent. Next question then,” he said watching the elf in his periphery. “You didn’t seem very upset about that man who propositioned you that first night.” Raviathan shrugged. “Did it bother you?”

The elf’s eyes turned to him mischievously though he kept his face forward. His baritone went up an octave as he dramatically lamented, “Oh Maker. Why oh why did you curse me with this stunning visage of loveliness? Why must I forever be tormented with the attentions of others? Have you no heart, Maker? This beauty is like a curse.” Duncan chuckled, and Raviathan’s white teeth flashed. He looked directly at Duncan, becoming serious. “I was propositioned often enough at the docks, but so were the other elves. The humans keep calling me beautiful. I hear them talk about it.”

“Well, you are beautiful,” Duncan said as a simple statement of fact. Elves were often considered the most attractive of the four known humanoid races but also the weakest. The Dalish were the only elves who were respected as hunters. While Raviathan may have been joking, he really was stunningly beautiful even for one of his race. Where Adaia was delicate, Raviathan was more angular and sculpted, but they shared the same sensuous mouth, large eyes, and exotic coloration. “Don’t get me wrong, Rav,” he amended, seeing a shadow pass over the elf’s face. “I can enjoy looking at a well made dress on a woman, but that doesn’t mean I want to wear it.” At the elf’s troubled look Duncan asked, “Does it bother you that I said that?”

“No. Not really. I know you’re not interested in me that way. I’m sorry I acted like that the other night. It was just easier to be angry than grieve.”

“I thought as much,” said Duncan sympathetically. “Apology accepted.”

Raviathan nodded. He figured Duncan already knew he was sorry, but he felt better for having said it. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant or vain. I know I’m good-looking for an elf, but that seems exaggerated when I’m among humans.”

Duncan was surprised the elf was willing to discuss racial politics and was glad to see he was speaking about it with an open mind. “Let me first say I’m sorry elves have been treated so badly. What happened at your wedding was another in a long line of injustices that started centuries before the First Blight. I don’t mean to trivialize that at all, but I would like to speak openly.” Raviathan gave him a long look that was curious if somewhat guarded, then nodded for him to continue. “Your race is considered more attractive in general. Even elven men are pretty by our standards, and you’re not only beautiful, but exotic as well. And human men who would normally not be attracted to another man aren’t as particular when it comes to elven men. But you already know that.”

Raviathan crossed his arms. “Sometimes I get more attention than I like, especially from men like that. But they don’t do that because I’m better looking or not. Looks have little to do with it. A woman who carries herself with confidence is more attractive even if she isn’t necessarily more beautiful. It has more to do with what I am than what I look like. I hate that being an elf means that people assume I’m automatically up for sale. A human woman walks into a bar and the men buy her drinks. They just try to buy me.”

“Have you had much of that? I didn’t think you’d been outside of the alienage that much.”

“On occasion,” he admitted. “I made sure to walk home with a group when I was working at the docks.”

“Hmm,” Duncan murmured. “Please take this in the light it is intended.” Raviathan looked back at him with interest. “You’ve had a few bad days, and we have been in rough areas, but if you carry yourself a little differently, you might get propositioned less.”

The elf cocked his head at him. “Go on.”

“I bet you didn’t get hassled on the way back from the Arl’s estate.”

“No,” Raviathan said, still watching him closely. Duncan hunched his shoulders and looked up, wide eyed and frightened. Raviathan narrowed his eyes, studying the man, then lifted up his chest which naturally squared his shoulders. His face became stony and impassive.

“Maybe not that hard all the time,” Duncan said reviewing the boy, “but something like that. It’s enough of a reminder that even roses have thorns.”

Raviathan laughed at the light teasing. “My mother said that stupid or inexperienced wouldn’t notice, but a guard who had a better eye could tell I’ve had training. And what trouble that could lead to. I couldn’t walk around armed, so it was better to go unnoticed. She taught me a few techniques to blend into the background or at look less like a threat to those who would notice.”

“She was right. But you’re a Grey Warden now. It’s time to stop hiding.” Duncan watched as Raviathan thought over his new role. He could see the elf start to take his words to heart, see an easy confidence come into his relaxed gait.

“Thank you, Duncan. It’s a habit, but you’re right. I think my mom wanted to teach me more, but what she did teach me was for safety.”

“Just make sure that your thorns don’t get so prickly no one can see the rose.”

Raviathan chuckled. “To be honest being good looking has made my life easier.”

“Oh?”

Raviathan’s grin flashed again. “Made getting girls ridiculously easy,” which made Duncan smile in spite of himself. Raviathan became more introspective as he added, “When I was young I noticed my punishments were lighter from everyone except my mom. I’ve gotten better treatment than I should have too. Not always, but there were times I noticed people soften up to me. Sometimes all I had to do was smile. Other times, even when I was mean or did something wrong, they’d let me get away with more than I should have. I think my mother was tougher to make up for it.” He shrugged. “I always liked it that I took after her. Made me feel closer to her and like I came from something special.”

“You did. No one in Thedas could hold a candle to her.” Adaia had a refined perfection to her exotic features that could have made her a legend in Val Royeaux had she the inclination. Those looks sometimes had a price, but more often people were intimidated by it or bowed more easily to her wishes. The darkspawn might not care if they were killed by perfection incarnate, but her charm would have helped the Wardens navigate the politics they often had to deal with despite their neutral status. Duncan wondered briefly how Cailan would react to Raviathan, if the elf could charm the king, but he wasn’t convinced Raviathan had enough of his mother’s training to become an effective agent for the Wardens.

A bittersweet smile touched Raviathan’s lips as he remembered his mother. “How did you know her?”

“We had a few misadventures.”

The elven eyes lit up awaiting the tale. “You have to tell me. No, seriously,” he added as Duncan looked like he was about to tease him. “You have to.”

Duncan chuckled. “Alright. It was when she first moved to Denerim, before she married your father. She was still more on the wild side and often skulked around the city at night unbeknownst to Valendrian. She didn’t steal, but she had a lot of curiosity. Worse than a cat. As it was, she started turning her hand at spy work.”

The shine in Raviathan’s eyes glowed at the story. Duncan couldn’t help but feel charmed as he had with Adaia. Raviathan had just admitted he had that effect, practically warned him, but it didn’t lessen the little sense of delight that warmed Duncan’s chest. What was it about the two elves that so easily beguiled others? Perhaps Adaia had been the only one immune to the boy, or perhaps she hadn’t. Whatever the case, she had loved her son enough to make sure he wasn’t spoiled or defenseless. Raviathan, for his part, was certainly still in the thrall of her memory.

“Nothing too bad,” Duncan continued. “Mainly following cheating spouses for the nobility or finding out a bit of intrigue, but she was becoming rather infamous for occasionally taunting the guards. One night I was returning to our Denerim base when I saw her evading two patrols of guards. To my surprise, she decided to try and hide out in the Grey Warden base. Now I couldn’t have that. When I cornered and confronted her, I offered her a job in exchange for not calling the guard.

“We had some of our equipment pilfered a few days before, and I had suspected it was a bored nobleman, but I had no proof. Three nights later the equipment was returned along with the lord’s signet ring. We couldn’t openly confront the man, but the two waged a covert war, and I put Adaia in charge of our defenses. A sword of ours would be taken, then it would be returned along with a painting. The painting would disappear a week after that along with a few books, which would turn up four days later with an attractive vase, and so on. It brought a delightful sense of randomness to the base, and a few Wardens adopted the Nightcat as a sort of mascot. After a few months of this, the nobleman asked me to conscript him so he could get out of an arranged marriage, which I obliged. I made Adaia the same offer, but she decided to settle down with your father.” Duncan looked down at Raviathan who had a wistful smile playing on his lips. “When I told her Grey Wardens couldn’t have families, I think that’s what made her change her mind.”

Raviathan returned Duncan’s gaze looking serene. “The Nightcat. That’s appropriate for her.”

“You have quite a bit of her in you,” Duncan said.

Raviathan’s serenity turned to melancholy. “Not really. I’m too cautious and ... well,” he sighed. “I’m not like her. Nothing seemed to get her down, or at least not for long. It’s like she had this fire that couldn’t be quenched. I’ve never known anyone who had such a playful attitude towards life.”

“I don’t regret letting her go.” Duncan put a hand on his shoulder. The elf looked up at him in surprise. “I would have regretted losing you, though.”

Raviathan looked fixedly forward as a tinge of red warmed his cheeks. It was only after they had traveled another mile that the elf spoke again. “Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

Duncan considered. “You can fight and heal. What other skills do you have?”

“Hmm. I can cook a bit. I know how to make some basic poisons.”

“Is that a threat?”

The elf smiled. “No. Not anymore at least,” he said bumping into Duncan playfully. “There’s not a whole lot. Mother taught me what she knew as an entertainer: how to play a few instruments, sing and dance, some sleight of hand tricks with coins, juggling, and the like. I can read and speak Arcanum and darn a sock. I know a little accounting and book keeping.” Accounting? That was an odd skill to have. As Duncan thought about it though, it would be useful in keeping the Warden accounts. “Anything in particular you want to know about?”

“Adaia specialized in stealth. Did she teach you that?”

“Oh yes. She taught me how to cloak in shadow or go unnoticed in the background as a servant. There was a lot of tumbling practice, and I can keep my balance on high walls. She was starting to teach me how to break into places. I haven’t done much of that though. Especially after she died, I didn’t want to bring more trouble to my family. I can pick locks too, but it’s been years since I practiced any of that. After she died my father got rid of all our weapons and equipment except for a lock pick set I kept in the bottom of my trunk. I’m pretty rusty.”

Not so rusty you couldn’t take out an estate’s worth of guards and nobles. A flash of lighting lit the distant south followed by a low roll of thunder that echoed off the hills. “Do you follow politics much?”

Raviathan bit his lips, a habit Duncan noticed meant it was a subject he was reluctant to talk about. “After Ness came to Denerim, my father told me why it was important to start paying attention to politics, that knowing about Howe had let her family get to safety before he ordered a purge. I know little bits and rumors, but I never paid much attention to them.”

“Rumors? What kind of rumors?”

“Which nobles are having affairs. Who’s lost their family fortune and is in too much debt but is hiding it. Who got drunk at a party and made a fool of themselves. Shems forget about their servants, and sometimes there was talk.”

Gossiping servants were something Duncan always suspected. Duncan had made sure his Wardens were careful around the few servants they had to clean and cook. “There were never thoughts to blackmail them?”

“We don’t care that much other than to watch for danger. Any elf who saw too much or got some overly ambitious ideas would disappear or get hurt. Besides, who’s going to believe an elf? If we spoke up, we’d just make a target of ourselves. We could sell information to rivals, but then we’d risk losing our livelihoods. Few secrets are worth starving. Most of its pretty common knowledge anyway. You knew about Vaughan, didn’t you?”

 
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