I came up with a steamy one-shot because I always thought Riordan was one of the best-looking men in the game.

Tomorrow we end the Blight. After Riordan explains the sacrifice Grey Wardens make to end the Blight, I feel a bit angry, betrayed, and sad. Then Riordan announces he should be the one to take the final blow. I don’t think it should go that way, but what choice do we have? I understand Riordan’s logic. His time is nearing an end, and the young blood should carry the Wardens through.

That sniveling brat Alistair couldn’t see past his need for vengeance when I recruited Loghain and ran away like a petulant child. I’m almost sorry I pleaded for his life with Anora. He thrust me into this position. Even though he was the more experienced warden, then bitched and moaned the entire time. He actually wanted to be a Warden. Thought it was the best thing that happened to him. Alistair, above all people, should have understood that there were only 3 of us to defeat the archdemon. We need more than just the 3 of us, such a stupid, selfish child.

I turn down Morrigan’s “offer” I highly doubt I could get Loghain to agree anyway. An overly ambitious witch giving birth to some extremely powerful godchild is a horrible idea no matter how it is pitched.

Loghain may be an unwilling warden, as I am, but he will do the job and be an asset to us. I hate the idea of the man becoming a hero for taking out the archdemon. At least now he understands why wardens are necessary to kill an archdemon…Blighted Ass.

I figured all along it had something to do with the taint, but that fool was too blinded for fear of Orlais to see the danger he brought Fereldan. I
will take that blow myself before I let Loghain do it. I ordered him to not take the final blow unless I fail.

He disagreed, but his opinions, along with his prejudices, can go the void. I’m in command here. My anger at Loghain and Alistair, along with thoughts of impending death for all of us, lead me back to Riordan’s door.

I knock gently in case he might actually be asleep. Much to
my surprise, I am bid to enter.

“Can’t sleep, Lady Cousland?” Riordan asks, smiling slightly. He is obviously wearing comfort clothing consisting of a wide-neck tunic that shows some of his muscled chest and loose-fitting breaches.

“The events of the Landsmeet and impending battle do have me out of sorts,” I admit wryly.

He reaches over, grabbing a bottle and glasses. “My own blend,” He says, smiling.

“Sounds lovely,” I said as he gestured to a couple of comfortable chairs.

“I’m sorry that Alistair couldn’t be persuaded,” He says regretfully.

“He’s shown us his true colors. We do what we must,” I muse, taking a sip of the brew. It’s heady and robust. I smile at the taste. Looking at the noble man across from me, I realize that I genuinely like him.
I mean, he’s easy on the eyes, of course, but he watched over me during my recovery from the mistreatment I incurred at Fort Drakon. Our previous conversations about the wardens and spending some with each other was both enlightening and entertaining.

“I would not have thrust you into such a position,” He says, looking at me sympathetically, “but I must say you have handled it with grace and diplomacy, Lady Cousland. We aren’t judges. Kinslayers, blood mages, traitors, rebels, Carta thugs, common bandits: Anyone with the skill and
the mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us.”

I smirk at the title, “I quit being Lady Cousland when Howe killed my family, and I was recruited into the grey wardens. I am thankful, however, that Fergus still lives.”

I wish Duncan still lived as well; he might have succeeded with Alistair where I didn’t. I remember the moment I flirted with him and relished a few moments we had together. I must have looked a million miles away. I’m drawn out of my daydream by Riordan. “A sovereign for your thoughts?” He asks, smiling.

“I was just remembering Duncan,” I say honestly with fondness, “he might have succeeded in convincing Alistair to stay with us. I don’t think Alistair and his brother were very close. His childish need for vengeance might have been lessened if Duncan were still alive.”

“You may be right,” he answers thoughtfully.

“Well, what’s done is done,” I say, simply draining my drink, “I should let you rest.”

Riordan stops me by taking my hand that was holding the glass. Instead of taking it, he refills it. “You’ve been alone enough, Alanna. Stay, and we will keep each other company. I am thankful for the company as well. I’ve spent too much time alone myself as of late.” He says this with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

The somber mood has taken a turn for the playful. I note the use of my name and not a title, and it makes me smile. Instead of taking the seat I just vacated, I brazenly take a seat on his lap. He looks surprised at my saucy gesture but accepts it. “I don’t think either of us should be alone tonight,” I tease, smirking as I sip at the wine.

“So, you prefer your men, with a bit more… sophistication?” he quips, wrapping one arm around my waist lightly as he takes a drink from his glass.

“I prefer men who act like men,” I say cheekily, running my hand through his hair undoing his braids.

“So, you and Duncan?” He asks perceptively, letting his hand ghost over my arm and entwining it in my long honey red tresses pulling out the pins that are keeping my severe bun in place.

“Yes,” I answer honestly, “does that bother you?”

“Makers breathe, no.” He says as if surprised by the question, “If anything, I am grateful that he had your company before he…” Riordan pulls out the last pin, and my hair tumbles down over my shoulders, settling almost to my waist. He looks at me and takes a ragged breath, “By the Maker! You should wear it down more often. Do you even realize how beautiful you are?”

“No, but I’m getting the idea. Do you realize how handsome you are?” I tease, leaning over to drag my lips over the pulse point on his neck. He shudders at the ghosting kiss.

“I think I’m getting the idea as well,” he retorts playfully, planting butterfly kisses on my jaw. I pull away just momentarily and quickly drain my wineglass, setting it on the nearby table so I have both hands free. I notice he has done the same.

Turning to face him, I lean into his neck, taking a deep breath as I run my tongue over his collar bone. He smells of sandalwood, cinnamon, and masculinity. It’s a heady combination that makes my stomach flutter. I run my hands up under his tunic, exploring his well-muscled chest.

Riordan is not passive by any means, his deft hands working the buttons of my vest and blouse, pulling it to the side to expose more skin. He leans back to look at his handy work. Then pulls me into a bruising kiss demanding entrance. He tastes of wine and a lingering touch of apples which I imagine came from the plates thoughtfully placed in our rooms.

Riordan pulls my vest and blouse off my arms discarding it to the side as I wear no breast band. I’m exposed, and the cooler air of the room causes me to shiver slightly. He reaches around me in an attempt to pull me into his warmth and finds the small dagger I had hidden under the clothing and tucked into my britches. Riordan grins as he pulls it out and inspects it. “You’re a dangerous woman Alanna,” he teases with his bright cerulean eyes twinkling, “I like beautiful and dangerous things.”

“Well, in that case, maybe I should let you find all of them,” I banter, grinning. Tugging at Riordan’s tunic, I growl in frustration. “Off!” The commanding tone of my voice has him shrugging off the offending clothing with haste.

Reaching around to run my hands up his back, I find his hidden dagger as well. The discovery makes me chuckle as I toss it to the side. I turn and face him again, deciding to straddle his lap as our lips connect again.
He pulls me flush with his chest running his hands through my hair and over my back until he hits a scar, and I jump slightly. “Still sensitive?” He asks, concerned.

“Fort Drakon,” I answer quickly, not wanting to think about it nibbling on his neck making him squirm slightly. He drops the subject.

Cupping my behind, he pulls back, looking at me. “shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?” I kiss him deeply in reply as I wrap my arms around his neck. He grasps me a bit more firmly before standing up and carrying me to the bed.

Riordan is considerate of my back when he gently sets me on the bed. He hovers over me, planting kisses on my collar bone before working his way down to my breasts. My mind almost goes blank as I instinctively arch toward him, and he gives the other breast the same treatment. I wrap my hands in his hair and caress the back of his neck, having a little mind to think of anything else. He kisses a hot trail path down to my navel and looks up at me questioningly.

Such a gentleman, I nod my agreement. He removes my boots and finds a dagger strapped to each calf, and chuckles softly, “I believe I may have found them.”

“So you have,” I answer huskily. As Riordan removes my breaches with my small clothes in one movement, I remember the substantial nasty scar going from my abdomen hipbone down to my knee. I tense slightly and try to cover it. He pulls my hand away. “No, let me look at you, ma Chérie.” I comply reluctantly. He traces the scar gently, “Ostagar?” He asks. I nod again, for there is nothing else to say.

“It shows that you are incredibly strong, and you’ve survived much,” He says, his voice hoarse with desire, as he traces another scar along my side making me shiver, “these scars are the colors in the painting of your life, they add beauty and complexity to piece.”

He brings his face back up to mine, kissing me fiercely. I return the kiss with equal voracity biting his bottom lip eliciting a groan. Reaching my hands down to his belt, I make quick work of it.

“Off!” I command with a bit more insistence. He chuckles a bit smugly and stands to remove his breeches.

Unabashed, I look him over from head to toe. His beautiful muscular body is also peppered with several lighter scars and accented by very evident arousal. I crawl across the bed over to him and grab his hand to pull him down on the bed so that I can reach him better. I trace a line from his neck to his navel using feather-light strokes, following it up butterfly kisses that cause him to shiver. Pushing him to lay flat on the bed, I plant kisses up and down his hip bones and inner thighs, causing him to squirm. Looking up at him, he’s almost chuckling. “Ticklish, I see,” I note
teasingly.

He smiles helplessly, “you’ve found my weakness, Chérie.”

I grin impishly at him and wrap my mouth around him, swirling my tongue. His startled gasp of “by the maker” turns quickly into a groan. He writhes deliciously under my ministrations, wrapping my hair around his hands, occasionally uttering an Orlesian phrase to two. I love listening to him and continue to hear him talk. “Alanna,” He says huskily, “if you don’t stop…” He disengages his hands from my hair.

I raise my gaze to look at Riordian’s face pulling my lips off of him with an unceremonial pop and grin mischievously at him. “We both have grey warden stamina, remember?” I tease, slightly mocking him.

Not waiting for a reply, I take him back in my mouth and double my efforts. In mere moments, he has entwined his hands in my hair and is thrusting his hips. He is aching for release. However, I want to relish this moment. I slow the pace and get an irritated growl in reply.

Feeling a bit smug and maybe just a tad remorseful for teasing him so relentlessly, I quicken my movements. Soon he shudders and gasps, “Alanna!” I continue working him with my mouth until the tremors stop.

I slowly sit up, rolling my neck a few times to work out the kinks and look at him. I can’t help the smile crossing my face as Riordan seems so relaxed. “Wine?” I ask.

“Maker, yes,” he says, catching his breath, “That would be lovely.” I walk across the room with no thought about the scars crossing my body. I realize he gave me a more significant gift, confidence in my own body again, and I am grateful.

I refill the abandoned glasses and walk back over the bed sitting beside him. I offer him one. “I want to thank you,” I say awkwardly, “about the scars thing.”

He looks at me confused for a moment, and understanding hits him. “I assume your noble upbringing placed a high priority on beauty and unmarred flesh?”

I nod, chuckling. “If mother knew I had so much as a scratch, I was taken immediately to a healer.

She didn’t see the sun for years. It was a double standard if Fergus got a scar. It made him manlier.”

“But she didn’t keep you from training with daggers?” he asks cocking his head curiously. “Oh, she tried,” I reply, stifling a snicker, “but Father and I won that battle. Seeing the healer was part of the agreement.”

Riordan smiles widely at that and then gets a most mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Mon Chérie, I should be thanking you,” he says slyly, taking the wineglass from my hand. Before I can speak a single word, I am pushed back on the bed, pinned down by his weight as he kisses me brutally, almost senselessly.

I can do nothing but return the kiss that is reigniting my desire for him. He snakes a hand over my breast to circle my nipple that immediately pebbles, and I moan against his mouth. Ghosting his lips up to my neck to my ear. “I should at the very least repay the favor.” He says in a lower husky voice.

Riordan’s voice in my ear makes me shudder. He seems pleased with this reaction. He replaces his hand on my breast with his mouth making me writhe as hot tendrils of searing desire pool in my belly. Sitting back and ghosting his hands down my body and legs, he lifts a foot planting a kiss on my ankle, working his way up to my knee. After settling another kiss firmly on the back of my knee, he runs his thumbs in feather-light circles there, which strangely enough causes me to moan.

“So responsive, had I known, I would have started with this.” He smirks as he kisses his way up my inner thigh. Once he reaches the juncture of my thighs, he ghosts over my curls, much to my disappointment. And leaning back again, he takes my other foot to start the process on the other leg.
I realize that he is teasing me much I had done earlier to him.

I relax into the kisses and feather-light touches that are making me hunger for more. Reaching my center, Riordan drags his fingers lightly over me. Dipping his head down, he lightly flicks his tongue over me as I writhe to create more friction where I want it. But Riordan is still taking retribution for my teasing earlier. “Not yet, Alanna.”

I was never shy about touching myself. My hands make their way to my breasts. He looks up, and seeing my hands at work, he grins in approval.

Lowering his head again, he wraps his mouth around my nub that had been purposefully ignored and sucked hard, swirling his tongue. His mouth feels cool in contrast to the heat of my body. I nearly fly off the bed in response. He laves away at me, causing me to shudder with pleasure.

I want more I want him. I look down at him through hooded eyes. “Riordan, please,” I moan. He looks up at me curiously. “I need…” He doesn’t wait for me to finish with almost feline grace, he has moved up, and Riordan captures my lips ferociously as he hilts himself. I gasp against his mouth.
Riordan stills waiting for me to adjust.

“Maker’s grace, Riordan, move,” I say huskily, rolling my hips. I don’t need time to adjust. I just need this. He needs no further prodding as he moves in deliciously slow strokes. I close my eyes in bliss.

“Look at me, Alanna. Let me see you.” Riordan says, desire lacing his voice.

I pry my eyes open, looking into his cerulean blues. The effect is intense. I have never felt more exposed as he looks intensely into my eyes. My desire heightens with this realization, and I find words tumbling from my lips, “More Riordan!”

He complies, moving faster and harder, his eyes never leaving mine. I moan in almost sobbing gasps as heat pools more intensely within me. Just a bit more, I press against him harder, snapping my hips against his. Sensing my need, he slides his hand to lightly brush my already over-sensitized nerves, sending me over the edge.

I clamp down on him as another wave of bliss passes through me. Keening his name, I make an effort to keep my eyes glued to his. This seems to be enough to make him come undone as well as he shudders into me loudly groaning, “Alanna, Mon Cherie,” and slumps down, resting his body on mine. I reach over, pushing a lock of hair away from his face.

Riordan smiles and rolls to lie beside me. I turn to face him as he takes my face in his hands, pulling me into a gentle kiss. “Stay with me.”

“As if I would leave now,” I smile at him tenderly.

Riordan reaches down pulls the blankets up over our quickly chilling bodies. Laying down again, he pulls me onto his chest. I intertwine my body with his using his chest as a pillow.

“Comfortable?” He asks.

I nod sleepily. We lay in a blissful stupor, letting sleep overtake us. I hear Riordan’s breathing evening out and figure he’s drifted off. He is such a good man. I would be delighted to remain at his side forever, but I know with what we face, that isn’t likely. I make up my mind to tell him how I feel. “I think I may love you,” I whisper softly.

As I drift off to sleep I hear Riordan whisper “Je te aime ma chérie.”