No Armor Against Fate (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Consummation

" ... husband and wife," said the Grand Cleric. Alistair turned to the woman at his side, lifting her veil. They made an attempt to smile at each other, their lips touching briefly. Since the interview at Arl Eamon's palace six weeks earlier, they'd been strained with each other, polite and cordial but not going beyond that.

They turned now, King Alistair and his new wife, to face the assembled nobles of Ferelden. A cheer erupted from the room, and he smiled, attempting to match the enthusiasm Dorothea was displaying. As they processed down the aisle past the guests he did his best to smile and look as though he was the excited but nervous bridegroom he was widely expected to be. He also tried to avoid meeting the eyes of those few close friends who knew what this day really meant to him. He was glad to have Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon, and especially Wynne and Leliana there, but they were reminders he couldn't afford to face right at the moment, not if he was going to get through the rest of the day without embarrassing anyone.

After the banquet, the first dance was announced. Alistair took a deep breath, hoping the dance lessons he'd been taking would pay off. He looked at Dorothea. "Are you ready for this?"

"If you are," she said. He led her onto the dance floor to the applause of the assembled guests.

"Has it ... been everything you'd hoped for? The wedding, I mean?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Absolutely." Alistair smiled at her. She smiled at him tentatively in return. He took a deep breath. "I hope we can make a fresh start today. Do you ... agree?"

She studied him for a moment. "I think we can. I would like to."

"Good." He felt as if a weight was lifted from his chest. This was hard enough, without having to be at odds with her.

"About later," she said quietly.

"Later?" Maker take it, he was blushing. You'd think he'd have gotten over that by now. "You mean—?"

She was blushing, too, at least. "I just thought you ought to know that I've never—never ... you know."

"Ah. Um, I think that's okay." He took a deep breath. It felt strange and somewhat exciting to be the experienced one for a change.

"I suppose it's good that one of us knows what we're doing," she offered.

"I'll, um, be gentle?" Alistair said, hoping to make her laugh. At least a little.

"I would hope so." He couldn't tell if she was amused or angry or what.

After the dance was over, the new Queen's father claimed her for the next one, and Alistair sought out the two women talking quietly at the edge of the room.

"What a lovely ceremony," Leliana exclaimed, hugging him.

Wynne hugged him as well. "I'm so glad I could be here today, Alistair."

"Me, too," he said. "How— How is she?"

"Ha!" Leliana said triumphantly. "Less than a minute." She accepted the coin the mage handed her, grinning.

Wynne smiled at Alistair. "She's doing fine."

"Is it safe for you to be here? What if she—"

"It should be another month and a half, Alistair. Stop worrying so much."

"Easy for you to say." He looked around, then said quietly, "I'll be there in about a month, and will plan to stay as long as is necessary."

"Do you think that's wise?" The mage looked at him levelly.

"Wise? Certainly not. But duty cuts in many directions, and in this case, requires my presence in Amaranthine." His set face brooked no opposition. "I will not take the risk of ... something happening while I am not there. She will not go through that without me."

"As you say, Your Majesty," Wynne said. "Now, you should enjoy your day. Your bride is lovely."

Alistair looked for Dorothea, now dancing with Bann Teagan. "Yes. And more understanding than I have any right to expect," he said. "I am very fortunate."

"Yes, you are," Leliana said meaningfully. "No self-pity allowed today."

"I'm trying my very best," he said. "Succeeding better than I expected. But still—I can't help but think..." His voice trailed off. They knew what he would have said, and there was no point in repeating it. He held out his hand to Leliana. "Would you like to dance?"

"My pleasure."

Hours later, Alistair found himself at the door of his new bride's chambers. She and her attendants had asked for an hour to prepare. He'd found it both too long and too short as he simultaneously dreaded what was to come and wanted to get it over with. Now he stood outside, holding a small nosegay of flowers. He knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Alistair opened the door, stepping inside. She stood in the middle of the room, her brown curls flowing around her shoulders, wearing a filmy white garment of some kind. The pose was the same as Thora's had been the night when he'd first seen her hair down, and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry at the memory. All the thoughts and feelings he'd tried to dam up all day were suddenly clamoring at him, and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to smile at the lovely girl in front of him, holding the flowers out wordlessly. He didn't trust his voice.

"Thank you, Alistair." Dorothea smiled up at him, taking a hesitant step forward.

Desperately, he shoved all his memories back, thinking his wife's name over and over to try and drown out the other name that pounded in his head with every beat of his heart. "Dorothea," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He closed the door behind him, taking her hand and leading her to the bed. "You're not ... frightened, are you?" he asked, doing his best to focus on her.

"No. I ... trust you." The words seemed to come unwillingly, but she'd said them. Whether he deserved them or not, he would have to earn them, starting right now.

His fingers touched her hair, trembling slightly. He leaned forward, placing his mouth on hers, softly at first, then increasing the pressure until her mouth opened with a gasp and his tongue touched hers. Dorothea's arms twined around his neck, her tongue meeting his shyly, but with growing confidence, and they lay back on the bed. As his hands explored her body, Dorothea moaned, arching against him, and Alistair's body began to respond to her rising excitement.

Dorothea's reactions to his touch grew more and more intense, and his passion rose in return as the consummation he had worried so much about moved on to its inevitable climax.