Vhenan Aravel
Chapter 39: Crossroads - We’re All Murderers Here

Copyright© 2017 by eatenbydragons

Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 39: Crossroads - We’re All Murderers Here - 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  

Fifty three, fifty four, fifty five. Raviathan sighed. Never before had he had so much money, and it was gone just as quickly. Working for Alarith had given him some experience with sums and handling coin, enough so he wasn’t completely off-footed by holding the pouches of silver and few sovereigns. Instead, he hadn’t felt like the coins were his, just holding it for another person. That had made it easy to spend on necessities like tents and food. The unfamiliarity with having money of his own bypassed his natural inclination to hoard for an emergency.

What they had left wasn’t much, certainly not enough for travel. Raviathan nibbled at his lip as he piled the silver back into the pouch, fingering the last silver with trepidation. What did Wardens do for money, anyway? Duncan, like many humans, seemed to have a limitless supply.

They had needed the equipment, so the coin had to be spent. Raviathan didn’t begrudge the elves or child he had given money to either. Those people had been in worse shape. Fifty silver to get to Denerim was impossible, but the elven family could probably scrounge jobs along the way by carrying some human’s goods. The child, well, a child needed comfort, and Raviathan couldn’t take the boy with him through the village. Still, what were they to do now?

Raviathan stared at the coin in his hand as if he could will more into existence.

“Um.”

At Alistair’s hesitant look, Raviathan raised a brow in question.

“I, well, I picked these up at the Chantry.” He passed the papers to Raviathan. “I’m surprised the Chantry is still running the board, but since they are...” Alistair trailed off with a shrug. The four of them sat around their camp, their seats of stones coated with morning dew. Morrigan leaned back on her arms, face turned to the sky in boredom. Leliana leaned forward with her arms braced on her thighs, eager to be a part of the conversation. The leather armor she had obtained squeaked as she shifted.

“What are they?” Raviathan asked. The board?

“You know. The Chantry Board.”

Raviathan looked at him blankly.

“The Chantry has a board up that people can post jobs to,” Leliana said. “Either work for the Chantry itself or for people in the town. In some cases the Chantry pays for the work, but they also facilitate notices for anyone in need.”

The Chantry had notices for jobs? Maker, why hadn’t he known that? Not one of the elves talked about a jobs’ board. Raviathan wondered what kind of work he could have done back in Denerim had he known. Perhaps he could have earned enough to get Nesiara a real gift for their wedding and not that ridiculous, half-formed song.

His chest tightened at the thought of her, a physical pain as if he had a fist clenching his heart. Was she safe? Was she still in Denerim or had she moved on? That necklace he had stolen from the Arl’s estate would have secured her any match she wanted in all of Ferelden, maybe further, beyond the borders where she could be safe from the Blight. Had she gone to her parents instead, to be with her family? She might have, using the money from the necklace to give her family a second chance.

What he knew was that he missed her, enough that there were times he couldn’t breathe with the weight of want. He wanted to bury his face in the silk of her hair, breathe in her sent and feel her willowy body in his arms. He wanted to forget the world for a few moments while he held her as he used to, her presence enough to shield them from all the pain that existed beyond their embrace.

“What do you think?”

Raviathan blinked back to the present at Alistair’s question. He shuffled through the papers. “Well. There are bears that are troubling the outlying farmers.”

Morrigan snorted at that.

“More problems with bandits. Maybe that’s the rest of the crew from the entrance.” Those bandits hadn’t been so hard to deal with. Could they take that job on? Raviathan’s gut twisted at the idea of killing more men. The bandits on the highway had been one thing, a moment of passion when they were being attacked. This though, hunting down men was a cold-blooded act that screamed murder in his mind. Raviathan nibbled the inside of his lip. What chance did the refugees have when these bands waited in ambush for them? Leaving the highwaymen alone would cause more death, more pain. The whole situation made him sick. “There’s something about a missing woman.”

“Missing woman?” Leliana asked.

Raviathan shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start with that. She’s presumed dead according to this. They just want confirmation of her body and maybe something for the family to remember her by.”

“How do they know she’s dead?”

Raviathan shrugged. “Doesn’t say much let alone where to find her. The rest though ... Leliana, you know this area best. According to the templars, they think the bandits are north of the town. Do you have any idea of where they could be?”

“I almost never left the Chantry,” she said, a pout pulling at her lips in a rather sweet display. “I could talk to the templars, perhaps. They might know a bit more.”

The sour expression on Morrigan’s face told them all what she thought of that. “Well, they certainly are good at not protecting the citizenry here, either.”

Leliana blinked in surprise. “It’s not their job to go after bandits. The arl should have taken care of that.”

“But he took his militia with him,” Alistair muttered.

Morrigan let out another derisive snort. “Shocking. When you put your protection in another’s hands, how easily they forget their duty. Instead, this arl jumped like a dog when another lord snapped his fingers, and left all these poor, sad souls to weep and moan their fate.” Leliana leaned back as if to distance herself from Morrigan’s sarcasm.

Raviathan’s jaw tightened. “Morrigan. That doesn’t help.”

“Well then, this might.” She stood, brushing off her clothes and picking here and there to rearrange them to her satisfaction. “While you make your way north, I shall turn into a bird and scout. These bandits should be easy to spot from the sky. Does that suit the purpose of this errand well enough?”

“Yes, and thank you.”

Her smile held a mix of superiority and contempt though Raviathan didn’t think it was directed at them so much as the mission and people of the town. She strode to the other side of the mound where the rest of the refugees would not see her. Raviathan watched carefully as her form shifted in a swirl of black smoke, her rags shining like ink the instant before taking on the solid contour of feathers. In the space of two heart beats the woman was gone as a raven beat her wings frantically to gain altitude. As she rose, her wings slowed to graceful strokes to take her far above the town.

Fascinating. Would he be able to do that? The prospect sparked a hundred possibilities in Raviathan’s mind.

Leliana grasped at Raviathan’s arm, one hand over her open mouth in astonishment as she stared at the retreating bird.

Aside from the sister, Raviathan was immediately concerned with the way Alistair watched Morrigan’s transformation. What the human’s expression meant, he couldn’t tell, but there was a focus to Alistair’s gaze that made him nervous. While Alistair had kept his word to preserve the apostate’s secret, why did he watch Morrigan like that? Considering how the two verbally sparred, that couldn’t be a good sign. Maybe Alistair wasn’t as assured to silence as Raviathan had thought.

Raviathan put a hand over Leliana’s, the tilt of his head an inquiry. Alistair had at least made a promise, but what about this sister? As much as Morrigan’s independent perception of herself would decry his help, he had given an oath to protect her.

Startled, Leliana let go of his arm as if he were a hot pan and backed away. “I’m sorry.”

A strange reaction. “It’s fine. Are you alright?”

“I ... yes.”

He kept a level gaze on her, waiting.

In response, Leliana gave him a nervous smile. “You said she was an apostate. I’ve never seen magic like that.”

That was another odd statement. Few people in Thedas had seen magic at all since any person found to have mage talent was locked up in one of the Mage Circles each nation maintained. Tevinter was the only exception, the lords having retained their magical authority. Had she lived in Tevinter at some point? Or had she some experience with apostates?

“We need her, Leliana.”

“What? Oh,” she said, tearing away her attention from the distant black speck that was Morrigan. “Of course.” She giggled, a reaction that took Raviathan by surprise. “The Wardens have always taken what help they could, and she is no different. A comrade in arms.” Her smile was confident and calm now that she was over her startelment. “Shall we go? Clearly ‘as the crow flies’ has been coined with a reason.”

The three made their way through town with Venger trotting at Raviathan’s heels.

“So, you were a lay sister?” Alistair asked. Raviathan listened to the conversation behind him with interest.

“Indeed.”

“For how long?”

“I came to the Lothering Chantry two years ago. What about you, Alistair? What were you before you became a Grey Warden?”

A commotion caught Raviathan’s attention. A tired looking templar listened impatiently to a man in rough spun clothing yelling at a Chasind. What kind of fool would provoke one of the swamp warriors like that? The Chasind remained impassive in the face of the smaller man’s accusations as if the farmer was nothing more than a chattering squirrel.

An unexpected sensation of pity welled in Raviathan. The swamp warriors didn’t belong here. They were just as foreign in these lands as Raviathan was. The barbarian’s muted green armor and hanging fox tails marked the man as an outsider as much as his tattered hair and facial designs. The Chasind stood out in their odd stillnesses and the way they swayed when they walked as if they were trees flowing with the wind. They didn’t have the mannerisms of normal men who gestured with quick hands or crossed their arms over their chests in discomfort. They didn’t belong here, and Raviathan knew how hard it was going to be for them outside of their forests unused to these rules of behavior and laws.

For a moment Raviathan wondered about all the people who would be hurt by the Blight. He had never known the Chasind existed before. How many more were like them, the hidden people and tribes that wouldn’t even be counted among the casualties?

As they left the outskirts of the town, a deep voice rumbled out strange syllables in a language Raviathan had never heard. Granted, he didn’t know much beyond his mother tongue and Tevinter’s Arcanum, but he did recognize the languages from the different nations, especially after his time at the docks.

Raviathan stopped, Alistair nearly crashing into him, when he spied the giant in a cage. He had seen one of those people in Denerim! Those two men who had stopped him in the streets with their dog, one, a giant like this. Intrigued, Raviathan walked over, studying the man’s heavy featured face. Lavender eyes were all the more striking against bronze skin. The giant’s white hair was carefully plaited in close braids against his scalp.

Glancing at Leliana, Raviathan asked, “What sort of person is he?”

“A criminal, from what I understand,” she said, but her voice held no reproach for the caged man.

“Do I amuse you, elf?”

Raviathan looked back at the giant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak of you like you couldn’t answer.”

The lavender eyes blazed as if lit by their own fire. The eyes were rimmed in red, probably from exhaustion if he had been caged for a time. His eyes weren’t as large or bright compared to elves, but with his size and odd coloring, he was exotic. That and he was half again Raviathan’s size and bulging with muscles.

The giant leaned forward in his cage, his arms resting on the bars. “Manners, or do you mock me?”

“No mocking. I have seen one of your kind before. He had horns that looked like they had been cut.” This man had no indication he ever had horns.

A scowl deepened the lines in the giant’s face. “Do not call one of those beasts kin of mine.”

Raviathan’s brows raised at the giant’s anger. Had the cage not separated them, he would be backing away. “What are you then?”

“Qunari,” Leliana said when the giant remained silently staring. “He murdered a whole family, including the children.”

Murdered children? Disgusted, Raviathan left. That did explain ‘the big Q’ the child had talked about the day before.

“So he’s left there?” asked Alistair.

“It was the Mother’s decision. I can’t help but think it is a cruel fate. To die slowly of starvation or be left to the darkspawn. Nobody deserves that. At least make it a clean death.”

Raviathan shot her a dark look over his shoulder. “Is he guilty?”

“That’s the strange part. He said yes, but he didn’t fight when the templars came for him. He was sitting there, waiting for them. He never once resisted.”

“He murdered children,” Raviathan said. “Let him be ripped apart.” Strip by meaty strip.

He didn’t miss Leliana’s startled glance to Alistair who shrugged in response. Was that worry in her eyes? Why? He was still so bad at reading human expressions.

On to work.


Another arrow sang through the air. Raviathan nocked an arrow as Leliana let her third fly. Panic made his hands tremble. The nock stubbornly refused to line up with his bow string. Maker help them!

The bear roared as he stood up on his hind legs. The thing was huge! They were going to be killed right here. The bear lunged forward, the muscles and thick layers of fat bouncing as the animal charged forward.

“Can’t you cast a spell yet?” Alistair yelled at Morrigan. He gripped his sword and shield tighter to his chest, his own panic stretching his face into a grimace.

“I told you before! It is out of range.” Morrigan’s face showed pale in the forest shadows, the whites around her yellow irises visible.

Venger gave three harsh barks that bounced off the hills. He danced back and forth unsure of what to do.

Raviathan’s arrow hit the bear’s chest, a solid shot that did nothing. The arrows they kept lining up has all the effect of pebbles thrown at a fortress wall. Leliana’s shot stuck out of the bear’s shoulder, the shaft quivering as the bear continued his charge. The yellow teeth gleamed against dark brown fur. They were going to be ripped apart.

“Maker,” Alistair breathed in a low prayer. He charged out, holding his sword too tight to be effective.

No! Though their arrows had little effect, they couldn’t shoot at all now for fear of hitting the templar. The bear twisted his head to follow the templar. The fool doesn’t have a chance, Raviathan thought. Why?

Before reaching the bear, Alistair backpedaled to the right, the bear following him. The great thing reared, the wicked claws catching the afternoon light and reflecting red. The bear struck out, his massive claw brushing aside Alistair’s raised sword with ease. Alistair stumbled with the force, caught his footing and kept moving around.

Both archers renewed their efforts now that the bear was a clear target. Arrows landed but only elicited a grunt. The bear bellowed rage.

“Morrigan! Get in range if you have to!” Maker’s ass, they were going to watch Alistair get mauled in front of them. The bear made another swipe. Alistair dodged, a backwards leap to the ground. The bear clawed at empty air, a hair’s breadth away from Alistair’s breastplate. He’s going to die. The bear lunged forward. Alistair rolled to the side then scrambled to his feet. He faced the bear, his arms out wide and legs splayed as he tried to get his balance back.

He was going to be lucky only so many times.

Morrigan’s lips trembled. Her eyes darted at all of them, quick fearful movements. After two hesitant steps, she ran forward. At the halfway point, she threw her arms wide, the cold swirls visible around her staff before exploding out.

A second later, ice sheathed the bear.

The bear whipped around, eyes fixed on the mage. Horror speared through Raviathan. The spell hadn’t worked. Instead, the bear fur had turned in an armor of ice. Morrigan let out a cry as the bear started for her. Maker, damn them all! Raviathan didn’t have any thought for what he was doing. He was beside Morrigan, pushing her back, his own fear clawing at his throat. He waved his bow at the bear to distract it. The thing was over him, a lumbering mass of muscle. Claws as long as his fingers beckoned his death.

 
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