Chapter 1: Reading
“My lord, thank the Maker I found you, your hound has-” pleaded the elf, a young man by most standards but one whose features had already begun to age from work and the tension of serving under the Couslands: a kind and generous family in all, barring one son of course.
“Later” growled the young Cousland in annoyance, waving his hand dismissively, not adoring the interruption to his reading in the slightest, nor even raising his head to look at the servant as he did so. It seemed it was forever the prerogative of servants to interrupt him as he was enjoying the sauciest of scenes in his private collection of books. It forever horrified his tutor Alduous that a man of wit and privilege such as Niall, would cripple his potential by reading only to the most brazen of erotic tales. Truth be told, he would love to read more widely, but that he wished to read tomes of magic and blood rites would only serve to horrify Alduous further. The young noble felt his fat cock begin to go limp in his trousers as the image of his tutor's scowl entered his mind and the drone of the servant's pleas regarding his mabari hound went on.
Niall looked up, a grim look upon his eyes, shadowing his expression, one hand violently closing the book he had been reading with a loud thump, his other forming a rest upon which he laid his cheek. He was no adonis but by virtue of his youth his features were still firm and unweathered. He wore his dark hair at medium length, though unlike the wavy strands of his father and brother, his was a shaggy mess no matter how much a servant worked it over. His untameable hair earned the affectionate name 'Pup' from his father, and his disposition the name 'dog'; only uttered by servants when they were sure no one else was around.
“What is it knife ears?” he questioned, wishing for answers, if only to expedite his “lordly” duty of managing what affairs pertained to him.
The elf, still skittish from the thumping of the book and the young Cousland's aggression, stuttered at first, his words all over the place and nearly incomprehensible, but from what Niall could gather his hound had cornered a servant in their quarters and she was too terrified to escape and no one dared approach the hound themselves out of fear of being bitten. Niall was sure he knew the servant in question, after all he had told his hound to harass her; he did so love watching the elves squirm.
Unfortunately his mischief was not as well thought out as he had hoped, for here he was, interrupted in his private time, by an elf, of course. He rose from behind the desk where he had been sitting and reading and motioned the servant to come closer, masking his annoyance to stop the servant's shaking and whimpering. As the elf approached with trepidation, the young noble extended one arm slowly and calmly and let it come to a rest on the elf's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze as his own stomach churned slightly. A sigh escaped the elf's mouth as his face relaxed for the briefest of moments before Niall threw the elf forward into the desk.
“My lord-!” exclaimed the elf in fear as the noble pushed his face down into the desk, enough to pin him but not enough to bruise as he brought his other hand raining down on the elf's bent ass in heavy smacks.
“You. bloody. knife. ears. know. better. than. to. interrupt. my. reading.”
He sang out each word in tandem with the spanking, each blow rocking the desk and the elf, who whimpered and cried out at the stinging impacts. When it was over the elf crumpled at the foot of the desk, his face wet. If he didn't know better than to interrupt Niall's reading before, the message was clear now.
Chapter 2: Dog
“Ser Gilmore, if I told you I was hungry, what would you do?”
“I would bring you food from the kitchen, my lord.”
“And if I told you I desired pleasure?”
“I would put my mouth upon your cock until you were spent.”
-A conversation Eleanor Cousland wishes she didn't hear
“Come now Dairren, don't hesitate; what good is an elf if you can't taste them whenever you wish?”
The red-haired noble swallowed loudly and nervously as the young Cousland egged him on, his mother's lady in waiting; Iona, pulling the lips of her pussy wider for him, the juicy folds of her sex glistening. Dairren licked his lips and leaned in closer but stopped a few inches short, unsure of himself and how he had gotten mixed up in such a situation. An audible sigh from Niall told him that the young noble was quickly getting tired of his hesitation.
Niall hadn't expected much when he had set about organising this little ménage à trois, but he had expected a little more from Dairren, given the dirty talk the lad had spouted after the matter of intimate relations had been pursued more doggedly. It now seemed evident that it would be impossible to get anything out of Dairren, save his embarrassment, without applying some pressure.
Iona gasped softly as the soft flesh of her cunt finally felt some contact, with his fingers in the red-head's hair Niall had driven Dairren's lips onto her sex, and after another moment of excruciatingly unnecessary hesitation he began to kiss and suckle the elf's wetness. With the hand on his head keeping him between Iona's legs Dairren had nowhere to go but deeper into her pussy, his tongue pressing into her, as if to dig his way out, Iona's purred in appreciation of the invigorated tonguing she was receiving, her hips rolling upwards into Dairren's mouth.
Niall felt his penis stir as he watched Dairren eat out Iona, grinding the quickly hardening member against Dairren's thigh, an objection from the red-head barely audible as the young Cousland pushed the head of his fellow noble down into Iona's pussy with new force. A yelp escaped Iona and although muffled, he could hear Dairren protest further, and with some reluctance he yanked Dairren's head up, strings of Iona's juice clinging to the young man's face.
“What is it, are you not enjoying this little scandal?” questioned Niall with a snarl, his eyes narrowing at Dairren.
“Forgive me Niall, but I- just don't think I'm ready to that sort of thing with another man.”, a fairly articulate answer, and one given with surprising clout given how little spine Dairren had shown throughout most of his time spent with Niall. He had allowed himself to be under Niall's thumb from the moment the young man had come to him in the study, and subsequently done whatever the Cousland youth had asked of him even when it was clear he didn't think it was a good idea; his face buried in Iona's snatch being proof enough of this fact.
Niall growled at Dairren's answer and used the hand tangled in the noble's red hair to pull him away from Iona and with a kick to the stomach pushed him from the bed and onto the stone floor. Without missing a beat Niall slid forward on the bed and climbed on top of Iona, pushing his erection into her cunt without affection or apology for the roughness. Her screeches of pain were drowned out by the hand he placed over her mouth, his cock slamming into her pussy at a ruthless speed.
However Niall quickly grew tired of Iona's elven cunt, removing his hand from her face and his cock from inside her before he was even close to cumming. From between gritted teeth she issued what must have been a curse or a slur, but it did not matter because Niall wasn't listening. The Cousland youth grabbed her and flung her from the bed much as he had done with Dairren who after recovering from the kick had found himself watching Niall's actions with a mix of marvel and disgust; open-mouthed and erect at the sight of Iona being used by the shaggy haired man.
“Speak out knife-ears, and find yourself put out.” threatened Niall as he moved off the bed and stepped over her and towards the stunned Dairren. Niall beckoned the noble with a twist of his neck, his eyes still hot from the earlier rejection of his passion. The red-head, meek and eager to not agitate the Cousland youth, crawled forward and took Niall's erection into his mouth, tasting Iona all over the head and shaft.
As Dairren worked over Niall's shaft with total absence of skill or practice, the temperamental noble inclined his head to see in what manner of state Iona was in. Her eyes were dark and bitter but she seemed uninjured by Niall tossing her from the bed, a fact that relieved Niall; not because he cared for her well-being but because he'd rather not have to explain bruises and battering the following morn.
“Knife ears-” he began, a soft but disgusted grunt telling him she was listening, “-come here and use that cunt of yours to satisfy sweet Dairren.”
Knowing that to be an order that she ought not to refuse, she drew nearer as Niall pulled Dairren's mouth off his member, now limper due to Dairren's efforts. Niall indicated that the red-head should lay down and as soon as Dairren obliged Iona lowered herself onto his rigid dick. Dairren sighed blissfully at the initial penetration and then again as she began to slide herself up and down, rocking on his cock.
It wasn't long before Dairren was panting and twitching, on the edge of release, his endurance as fragile as his independence. The spectacle was quick and disappointing, and nowhere near enough to reinvigorate Niall's wilted sex.
The moment Dairren caught his breath, Niall ordered Iona to remove herself from his cock and return to her own bed; an order which she seemed happy to follow. Once the door had closed behind her Niall offered his hand to the exhausted Dairren who still lay on the floor, limp penis slick with fluids, and bade the spent noble to join him in his bed the rest of the night. Although hesitant at the prospect of what may be expected of him, Dairren simply found himself embraced with a surprising tenderness by Niall, who drifted off to sleep a short breath before he did.
Chapter 3: Other
“So you fancy the King eh? Well that's a surprise, I'd have figured a noble like you would be too busy getting his pole wetted by servant girls to bother with another man.”
“Some pleasures require the presence of another cock.”
“I'll take your word for it; not my fancy I'm afraid.”
“Scoundrels like you are always such teases.”
-Daveth rubbing shoulders with a Cousland
Niall Cousland grabbed the other Niall's arm and pulled him against his body as the twisting wasteland around them began to peel apart. The mage stammered something of an objection as the Cousland warrior pressed their mouths together, the former's tongue recoiling as the latter's invaded.
The Cousland's other hand grabbed at a flaccid penis through robes, trying to coax an erection and some joy out of his unappreciative companion. The air hummed and the earth at their feet melted into fading lightning, the pair now falling towards a mass of off-coloured clouds.
The mage wriggled free of the kiss, and with a furious look in his eyes he demanded to know what the noble was trying to do.
“You said you were a virgin and had never known the joy of sex, so I thought I'd send you from this life with a good fuck”
Niall the mage was shocked, and his surprise grew at the realisation that the thought did tempt him. The Cousland freed his erection and arched an eyebrow at the indecisive mage whose hand wrapped around the hard member as they impacted with the clouds. Their bodies crashing together like waves on the shore and the eyes of the Cousland noble slowly opened and gazed upwards at the ceiling of the Circle tower.
Niall felt different.
Chapter 4: Play
“They twist your thoughts, get inside your head-”
“What a waste. What good is blood magic if you don't use it to get inside a sweet templar ass?”
-Niall Cousland offering his unique perspective on blood magic to a traumatized Cullen.
“So you're the blood mage; feared enemy of all that is sacred?” questioned Niall
“That is my shame” replied Jowan from behind the bars, his head bowed in submission, hands clasped in a makeshift prayer that seemed to want wring the air from between his palms in a fit of self-loathing.
The mage's dark eyes flicked upwards at the sound of a key turning in the lock of his cell gate, the door swinging open with an ear-splitting creak as the wild haired man who had come to speak to him joined him in his already cramped confinement.
“So, theoretically speaking, you could use your magic to make me do whatever you wanted?” he inquired with intentions indiscernible.
“I will not turn my magic against another person again.”
“Not even in self-defense? What if I tried to kill you, would you not resist with all at your disposal?” pushed Niall, taking another step into the cell and towards Jowan who in his attempt to back away found no more space and his spine pressed to the wall.
“I will not turn my ma-Ah!”
Jowan's reiteration of his conviction was cut short as Niall pulled a small knife free from his hip and placed it at the corner of the mage's throat. Jowan's head raised as if to get away but only succeeded in making the knife's placement more perilous. That moment of terror and anticipation seemed to go on forever and Niall relished it, but he knew that his time here in the dungeons alone with the blood mage was limited and so he withdrew the blade from the whimpering man's neck.
With a chuckle he place the flat of the blade on Jowan's clothed collar, and dragged it down the man's robed body making sure to cut not even the velvety fabric of the mage's attire. At the stomach he stopped and in a flash primed the blade, aiming the tip at Jowan's stomach as if to stab him and to his delight Jowan flinched. He suspended this point in time as he had with the earlier threat, enjoying the fear, however the sound of far-off footfalls on stone told him that the guards would be coming to check on them; far earlier than they should have.
Jowan made no sound, not wishing to aggravate the young man further and not really believing the guards would lift a finger to help him over the man. Niall leaned in and Jowan's eyes reflexively squeezed shut expecting the worst even with the guards coming, however the Cousland only proceeded to sheath his knife and whisper in the blood mage's ear.
“You're entertaining for a whimpering coward.”
He reached between the blood mage's robed legs and gave the cock he found there a parting squeeze and moved from the cell, shutting the cell gate and locking it behind him.
Chapter 5: Maw
“Bare your fangs elsewhere Swiftrunner, you are neither my master or my equal.”
-A dog commands wolves.
“Pl...ease help... me.” rattled the elven hunter, his breathing haggard as he tried to crawl towards Niall, his body riddled with oozing wounds from where he had been raked by the claws of the werewolves of the Brecilian forest.
“You knife-ears are truly useless aren't you?” spat the Niall, the hunter's eyes golden eyes darkening with despair. A boot to the side took what little wind was left in the elf and rolled him onto his back.
“Someone who really wanted my help would offer his name first, it's in good form to offer one's betters such pleasantries” jeered the noble, drinking in the shock that blossomed on the elf's face at his words.
“Deygan.” offered the elf between increasingly shortened breaths, his pride was not worth more than his life; he had a beloved and he would not allow himself to leave her, not willingly. Niall cocked an eyebrow at the hunter's quick submission but he was far from done.
“Deygan? Deygan, m'lord” corrected Niall with a bark, jabbing the heel of his boot into the elf's ribs causing fresh blood to seep from the man's open wounds.
“Dey-gan, m'lord!” begged the elven hunter, his eyes starting to roll backwards into his head as Niall felt his cock swell with excitement at the sight. Niall knelt down and began to gently pull the elf's armor away revealing the otherwise smooth pale skin caked with crusted blood. He stripped the chest and arms first, then the legs and feet only stopping when the elf was in naught but his undergarments.
“Th- thankyou, m'lord” whispered Deygan.
Niall said nothing as he brought a knife to the elf's small clothes and cut them open, revealing Deygan's limp cock. The sudden chill descending on his nether region cut through the pain and Deygan tried to raise his head to question Niall but he was far too weak. Any words he might have spoken were caught in his throat as the sensation of a hot mouth surrounded his member.
Niall was honestly surprised by the size of Deygan; he was comparable to Niall himself, perhaps even larger. Had he known about the man's size earlier he may have taken saving him seriously, if only to savour using such an impressive manhood later. More surprising still was that Deygan still had enough blood in him to raise his monstrous dick to full attention. It seemed even elves could have some redeeming qualities.
The noble's cheeks puffed as he tried to push the velvety head deeper into his throat, but it was to avail, he was only able to take half at best, and even then his jaw strained. Niall slurped on Deygan's manhood with all the skill he possessed, hoping to bring the man to climax before he breathed his last; not out of any twisted kindness but because even he drew the line at fellating a dead body.
Without warning Deygan's hips wrenched upwards with a final surge of energy and a torrent of seed splashed into Niall's throat and mouth, threatening to spill down into his lungs and drown him. Niall pulled himself from the hunter's sex with haste, coughing and spluttering, his eyes red and watery.
Deygan's erection faded along with the last dregs of his life.
Chapter 6: Innards
“With every day that passes I am more certain he is more monster than man but when he touches me I feel valor in the beat of his heart.”
-From the writings of the apostate Jowan
A naked Cammen struggled against the rope that bound him, hand and foot, to the oak tree behind, his tongue flinging protest into the deafness of the soiled cloth that had been stuffed in his mouth. The dark haired warden had promised him that he would watch for werewolves while the elven youth hunted in the forests near the camp. Instead he found himself the prey of not wolves but of this dog of a man; if he could only break free he would track the shem to wherever he had fled to and flay him, presenting the man's skin to the clan as proof of his adulthood.
For all the pride and independence the Dalish espoused, they were as much ignorant and gullible.
Niall had been the bearer of bad news; that she was completely wrong about Cammen's affections and that the elven lad wanted nothing to do with a woman cold as her. Niall had played the confused bystander perfectly, unsure how Cammen could not see Gheyna's obvious beauty, and though having to hold her as she heaved tears made him want to retch, he relished the misery he'd sown in her. As her grief turned to a desperate need for validation his feigned concern became coaxing touches that told her she was wanted. From that point it took little coercion for her to free her breasts and as he suckled on her perk flesh, his busy hands stripped her bare and brought her to the ground where he finger-fucked her for the better part of an hour.
Niall vigorously drove two of his fingers into the sopping mess that was Gheyna's cunt, the juices of womanhood streaking down his arm in tiny rivers. The elven bitch was oversexed and raw after such ceaseless fingering, his dual digits having wriggled and rubbed their way over every inch of her insides. Early moans and shallow gasps had given way to uncomfortable squirming and breathy grumbles; he was sure she would be crying in pain if he hadn't already convinced her that this was how it was supposed to feel and that she needed to learn to enjoy it.
However he knew this couldn't last forever, his arms were growing tired and even in her emotionally damaged state he was sure Gheyna would soon protest in earnest. More importantly the raid on the elf camp was no more than an hour away and although he trusted the ferocity of his new lupine allies, he still felt his presence would be necessary in overcoming the Dalish.
Niall found himself disappointed that he would not have time to play with Cammen as he did Gheyna; how he had wanted to tease and abuse the lad's tiny dick, still he would have a chance after the attack presuming the werewolves kept their tempers in check around his captive as they had sworn they would.
Gheyna broke her silence with a splitting shriek as Niall pulled his fingers back into a fist and then punched his way into her body, burying himself to the middle of his forearm. As her wail died in her lungs, so did her will to stay conscious, her body going limp on the leafy ground of the forest.
Niall withdrew his arm and moved to clean off the mess on her discarded garments. He did not worry about killing her, knowing that once he left the clearing she would soon be set upon by werewolves and torn apart. It was their shared propensity for sadistic violence that so endeared the baser lycanthropes to the Dog of Highever.
Chapter 7: Vows
“Swiftrunner was bound by his accursed nature but I soothed him and gave him purpose, but now you seek to bind me to your nature and in turn the wolves to your purpose.”
-The Lady of the Forest negotiating an alliance with Niall
“Oh please Jowan, it’s a bit late to try and mount the high-horse of redemption, don’t you think? You’ve already bled the Arlessa dry to send me into the Fade. “
“That was to save Connor. That was all we could do. She offered herself willingly…” rebutted an exasperated Jowan wishing this man, Niall, would just leave him be. The warrior who had identified himself as a Grey Warden and a child of the Cousland family had come to see him several times during his confinement in the cells of Redcliffe Castle. He mocked and harassed Jowan, threatening his life and placing his cruel hands on parts of Jowan’s body that not even Lily had seen, let alone felt.
He did not enjoy the way Niall fondled him and tasted his skin, all the while reminding him how easy it would be to slit his throat in breathy whispers. He held no passion for other men and even less for men forcing themselves upon him but sometimes…
No. He couldn’t think about that little spark that ran through him when Niall’s nails dragged along his thigh.
Not the way he could feel the noble’s hot red blood pounding in his veins, running through those powerful arms and down… down…
Jowan jammed his eyes shut as Niall massaged the mage’s still robed abdomen, drawing a line from his collar bone to his furry chin with the tip of his tongue. The Cousland man nipped at his chin’s tip with pointed teeth.
Jowan didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. He didn’t!
Ignoring all the vows he had made to himself time and time again, he urged a sliver of magic to well up deep inside his stomach, invisible insidious tendrils creeping up and out, phasing through flesh, fabric and armor to sink their tips into Niall. They probed inside looking for entrance, but when it seemed that he had found one, something black and oily would clot the veins inside Niall and force them out.
Niall’s touching slowed and Jowan could feel those predatory eyes boring into him through the blackness of his eye lids. Jowan’s breathing quickened, panicked, knowing that Niall had sensed his manipulations, he was going to die now, he knew it.
With a quivering cry he opened his eyes once more, and lurched forward magic lancing from his own chest and into Niall’s, clammy and weak hands wrapping around the Cousland’s exposed throat as the pair crashed to the ground. The tendrils hardened and became pointed as he jammed them into Niall’s body wherever he could, tips pressing aggressively at that blackness inside Niall that tried to resist him.
There was a flash of shock in Niall’s eyes, and then a flash of something else as his wits returned; a glow in the iris, white and hot, and Jowan felt his magic being drawn into Niall, tiny holes opening in that void that separated their wills, like mouths that sucked and siphoned the edge and intent from Jowan’s attack.
Although his hands were around Niall’s neck Jowan lacked the strength to choke him, and so the noble lay there comfortably, breathing slowly, Jowan atop him panting heavily as his magic became limp once again and begin to dissipate. The hands around Niall’s neck fell away and Jowan’s shoulders heaved in renewed defeat. Niall seized the opportunity, flipping their positions so that he now straddled the mage.
Leaning in close he curled his fingers in the mage’s hair and brought a fistful of the greasy locks to his face, rubbing them against his cheek and inhaling deeply.
“Forget redemption Jowan, and when I next visit, I hope you will have reconsidered my offer.”
Chapter 8: Alpha
“With time, yes, I could learn to mimic such a shape. Though the ends that he seeks from having me do such a thing are as unknown to I as they are to you.”
-Morrigan and The Lady of the Forest on the topic of shapeshifting into a werewolf.
"No. We can’t do this. It’s just… wrong.” muttered the blonde warden, appalled by the carnage that had begun to unfold at the behest of Niall.
“Objections tend to hold more value when offered before action is taken Alistair.”
“But we can still stop it can’t we? Surely some of the Dalish must remain! If we simply spar e them-“ pleaded Alistair, his stomach tying knots in itself as a woman’s scream reverberated from somewhere in the distance.
“Yes that’s what we need, the bloodied remnants of a knife-ear tribe alive and desiring revenge on us; we will see this raid through to the end.” retorted Niall dismissively not wishing to give Alistair’s ridiculous notion further thought.
Despite the howls and shouts echoing throughout the forest around them and the distant rumble of flame the sound of Alistair’s sword drawing came to Niall’s ears clearly, the Cousland noble turning to face his companion, struck silent by the sudden appearance of a spine in his fellow Warden.
“Just what are you hoping to accomplish-“
“End the attack Niall, call it off, this isn’t what Wardens do.” demanded Alistair cutting across Niall’s words, his sword held aloft and ready to strike. Niall’s eyes narrowed and he caught sight of the slightest of quivers in Alistair’s grip.
“No Alistair, this is what I, as a Grey Warden, do to end the Blight. I have made no secret of my nature or methods, though you have kept plenty from me.”
“None of that matters!” shouted Alistair, desperate to see this end. He did not agree with many of Niall’s decisions but he held no desire to see one of his few personal allies dead, more so by his own hand.
“You have willingly followed my lead until now despite your seniority in the Wardens, despite your lineage and you will continue to follow my lead Alistair.” asserted Niall, still not drawing his own sword or even making move to.
“W-what? No. I will not-“
The words were caught in Alistair’s throat, his convictions were not broken but his concentration was and that had been all that was needed. His grip became limp and the blade in his hand dropped onto the leaf strewn earth at his feet. Niall cast a knowing and appreciative smile to the shadows of the woodland behind Alistair where a robed accomplice stood over the slumped body of the huntress Mithra, a red river bubbling out from her slit throat.
Alistair’s eyes followed Niall as he approached, unable to raise protest or move the rest of his body, he could feel himself beginning to sweat, knowing that grim look in Niall’s eyes. That was the same look he had held for the elven assassin who had ambushed them on the road. He did not wish to recall how Niall had dealt with that man though he had justified it at the time…
Niall was right, he had known exactly the kind of man the Cousland was, and he had followed him, he had made excuses again and again for the man’s actions- when he drew his sword who was he objecting for: the Dalish or himself?
If he had control of himself he would have hung his head in resignation and shame but his body was still as stone no matter how he willed it, he could feel something hot and heavy wriggling in his arms and legs. It was not a painful sensation but the feeling was maddening.
Niall undid the straps and buckles on Alistair’s armor with no urgency, removing the bastard’s attire piece by piece. Though Alistair could not move, his limbs were like willing putty for Niall to manipulate and in time in the scruffy blonde had been stripped bare and made to kneel naked on the forest floor. A single finger at the back of Alistair’s head pushed down to make him bow it in penitence and Niall moved to stand over him.
“This man is guilty of making an attempt on my life and in doing so aiding the Darkspawn and the Blight.” proclaimed Niall to the silent trees, his companion and most importantly Alistair. Drunk on his own ego and power he circled the naked and immobile Warden at his feet. When Alistair heard the faint rattle of metal behind him he understood what was about to transpire. He was pushed forward onto his stomach and he felt the cold fingers of Niall’s gauntlets grasp his ass cheeks and spread them as a globule of warm spit was dropped squarely onto his now exposed hole.
Niall pressed his cock to Alistair’s asshole and with malice began to push his way in, ignoring the resistance of tight muscle. If Alistair was still in possession of his faculties he imagined the man would be fighting back and screaming, the thought invigorated him and he felt himself get even harder if such a thing was possible.
As soon as he had sheathed himself in Alistair’s hole, he drew himself out and pushed in again with even less care than the first time. Already the tearing had begun and he spotted flecks and rivulets of red on his shaft quickly smeared by the increasing movement and friction.
Alistair’s eyes watered and his lungs burned with unspoken agonies, his face pressed to the soil as his body jarringly shifted about like a poppet being played with by an clumsy child. There was so much pain but to his shame every now and then Niall would graze against something inside of him and his own flaccid penis would momentarily jump with excitement.
Niall’s merciless fucking continued on for what felt like an eternity, the world had become grey and muted to Alistair as he tried to block it out, though he swore he had caught sight of another person in his periphery; wishful thinking or a vision of more pain to come?
He did not hear the grunt or the any of the words that followed, he only felt Niall empty something warm and foul into him and then he felt nothing but pain and humiliation as Niall’s cock was removed from him.
“Bind Alistair to me.” ordered Niall, his companion nodded and dropped to his knees to suck the smeared blood and strings of cum from Niall’s cock and into his mouth. Holding the fluids atop his tongue he set about making sure Alistair would never again challenge Niall’s authority.
Chapter 9: Sir
"I am certain now, he is possessed but he has made that spirit and its power his possession. The similarities to Mother are unnerving to say the least."
The mage's fingers trace lines down the other man's back following not the contours of contorted muscle but veins electric with magic that twist them so. He's stiff. They're both stiff.
They're both muscular.
He wasn't always muscular, in fact he never was- this is the first time in his life he's ever been anything but flabby or gangly. His travels with that hound have shaped him in every facet as have his studies of magic and anatomy. A finger stops to press deeply on a section of back and a spark shoots through the skin to the vein underneath, the magic clogs and the skin goes blue, the other man cannot resist or even speak, his brain too flooded with blood and stupidity. The mage releases the blockage he's made and the magic goes racing through and in his mind's eye a map of the man's body, inside and out, blossoms into view.
He's strong now because he knows how a body works, he can subdue every facet of it with magic. He can exalt every facet of his own with magic. He has learned how the man moves... or used to move when he did of his own accord: memories buried in muscle and blood. He has learned to move like that too.
He uses swords now. Because he learned, because he can, because the hound who cannot be bent told him he was a knight now, to replace "Ser Gilmore".
He reaches between the man's legs to grasp at his meaty cock and milks it for more precum. The magic comes alive to make it flow likeendless honey, his body forced to rapidly make more just for the mage's amusement.
"You're so messy." he slurs into Alistair's ear, his voice as slimy as his intentions, his greasy looking locks tickling the man's face.
Yes, Prince Alistair.
That drives him wild.
He pushes his dick into the bastard prince's asshole and fucks him like he does most nights: steady and without flair. He grunts and lets his magic lapse briefly allowing the princely Warden the charity of some voice but all he can do is moan mindlessly and drool. It's the one flaw in the whole affair; while subdued he lacks the finesse to pleasure with his mouth, and while free he's liable to bite it off.
Jowan thrusts quickly now.
Chapter 10: Caprice
“I see him in my dreams, watching over me with kind eyes so no demons may take me. I see him when I wake, watching over me with wolven eyes so none may take me. I am not sure which is truly Niall.”
-from the writings of the apostate Jowan
“You knife-ear cunt, I'll gut you for this” he howled between heaving pants, his lungs seizing as his body did at the intrusion of the elven commoner, the youth grinning in ecstasy of finally relieving his pent up malice. The richness of this reversal, noble scion turned bound pig at the hands of the rabble that he had once lorded over, and this a perfect revenge.
“What's the matter m'lord, don't you like it? What was it you said; 'Grab a whore and have a good time'?” mocked the elf as he placed his hand over the redheaded noble's mouth, turning breathy objection into muffled and impotent outrage. Turned around to face the stone wall on the short length of his chains he could not prevent the elf from thrusting upwards into him;Vaughan's eyes watering at the sensation of the elf's turgid and malicious member pushing deep into him and striking some hidden sweet thing. The blossoming pleasure an added humiliation as he struggled against the manacles that bound him to the cell wall.
“It was a -wedding-” Soris whispered, his seed spreading through the noble's ass like a wildfire
With but a moment's respite he began fucking him again.
Niall was nothing but amused. He knew of Vaughan's proclivities, they were not unlike his own, and the two had something a shared past indulging them, but this was a priceless sight. A man wiser than Niall Cousland would have understood these events as warning. An escapee from another cell he surmised, the broken lock on Vaughan's cell suggesting he had come for him intentionally- a relation of a past victim? Or perhaps one just seeking ambiguous vengeance for the denigration of his community?
It didn't matter.
Niall drew a dagger from his belt and struck the wall beside him with such force that the blade broke apart announcing his presence with a tremendous clamour. .
Soris sharply withdrew himself from Vaughan and wheeled on the party who had appeared behind him. There were three men- one in leather with hair wild like his eyes, a broken dagger slipping from his fingers to land at his feet. Another garbed in furred robes, long hair framing an apologetic countenance. The third a step behind, blonde hair and splint mail, seemed addled- eyes wide and shaking. Niall gaze feasted on the elf's erection and Soris instinctively recoiled, hands moving to cover himself.
“It's not what it- he's a murderer- a rapist! He deserves this-” fumbled the elf, the irony of an accusation of rape not eluding him.
“Niall, help me- kill him!”
A flash in Soris' eyes; a knowing that the two knew each other, that any room for petition was quickly crumbling around him. He darted to the left to get around them, for the door- he would not die here!
The corner of the long-haired man's mouth twitched upward and a hand outstretched commanded the elf's legs to seize and crumple beneath him. Alistair moved forward to pin the elf, his movements unnatural but not unsteady, compliant with an order he could no longer question from a master who was as flesh and blood as in his blood.
“Alive.” barked Niall, and Jowan sighed at the Cousland's considerable capriciousness, his hand lowering and the magic easing its grip on the elf.
Niall sauntered over to Vaughan's cell, the redheaded noble yanking against cuff and chain, urging him to stop enjoying the sight and hurry up. It was indeed an enjoyable one: a narcissist reduced to a speck of dust, the threaded pattern work of his clothes marred by dirt and trousers torn and pulled down to the ankles. Still, hurry he must- this was true. With concise motions he freed his own cock.
“Niall- no-!” protested Vaughan kicking at him, but the Cousland caught each leg in turn, hooking one arm under each leg, and lifted Vaughan's body so that cock met cum-flooded asshole.
Chapter 11: Dignity
"If you wish me to set you free you simply have to cum, is that really such a torturous challenge?"
- Niall Cousland "lending a hand" to Oswyn Sighard
Another pain whimper of shame and arousal escaped the puffed pouting lips of the prisoner, forbidden not by magic but command alone to lay there and endure this treatment. Niall pressed the heel of boot into the elf's crotch yet again, pushing his balls to either side and then rolled his foot forward so that the breadth of his foot 'stepped' along the half-hard shaft. It was a sorry sight, Cammen's small penis a bruised and cum splattered mess, brought to orgasm over and over by the grinding of Niall's boot.
Niall himself had been reclining in one of the chairs that furnished his room at Arl Eamon's Denerim estate, content to pick at his claw like nails while degrading the Dalish lad before him. Vaughan stood next to him, not permitted to sit, awaiting permission from Niall to take his fill of the torture of Cammen. His trousers were tented from watching the elf's ordeal and even Niall could not predict which indecencies he would visit upon the elf if allowed.
It was amusing to the Cousland, that Vaughan Kendells of all people; loud-mouthed, egotistical, and aggressively rapacious in his desires had been bent so easily. Though he supposed it made some degree of sense: being repeatedly raped by someone inferior to you and then again by the person you had begged to save you probably had some sort of toll on one's reserves of will. Probably. He chuckled at his dry and blackened humor.
Niall lifted his hand to his face and examined the now thoroughly cleaned nails of his right hand before reaching out and grabbing Vaughan's erection through his trousers. The noble's body stiffened and he stood up straighter in response to the sudden grasping but said nothing. Niall smiled devilishly and tugged down on Vaughan's most valuable possession and the noble lowered his head to Niall's level so that Niall might instruct him.
“Clean up the awful mess this knife-eared beast has made of himself.”
Vaughan nodded curtly and waited to be released from Niall's vice like grip on his manhood so he could set about the task.
“With your tongue.” Niall hissed.
Chapter 12: Hero
"First that Dairren lad, and now Vaughan Kendells... it seems my little brother has something of a taste for redheads."
- Fergus Cousland, enjoying some degree of normalcy after the Blight.
The man was alive, and he was dead.
At first he- if he was still an appropriate term, was nothing but eyes looking outward, a twinkling of memories, knowledge and aspirations that had sunk deep into the man and taken root. But in time he was more.
As the man swung a sword with his arm, he became aware he had arms. As the mans legs grew tired from a days march, he became aware he had legs. A smile, a smirk, a snarl- and he too had a face. It was strange rediscovering himself through the man, like a reflection growing into more. They were barely alike, joined by nothing more than a name. Or that had been true once. Now they dreamed as one.
He wore the man like a second skin, loose but affixed; living through him a second life as an adventurer, a mercenary: a bloodied champion.
The man wore him like a shield, leaning on what he knew like it was his own thoughts. When bloody fingertips would creep on the surface of the mind he would deny their caresses with a litany delivered with triumphant shouts.
He was not Valor nor was he Pride. For the man fought for himself as much as the world, for the man was cruel as he was kind. They had slain the Archdemon and lived, they had slain the Mother and brought order.
The man was an abomination, and he was Heroism.
Chapter 13: Destiny
Well everyone it is with a heavy heart I admit that this is the end. I recently did a playthrough of Origins and reviewed where The Dog of Highever was going and I realized it was just too much. I only wrote the first chapter as a bit of a lark and then it snowballed out of control and before I knew it I had a million ideas and no time or energy to write. I honestly can't stand to have this unfinished work looming over my head and so while I'm sure so many of you expected so much more from this or for certain scenarios to play out, I'm sorry to say but this is the last chapter.
I'm not sure I will even attempt a series for Dragon Age 2 or Inquisition seeing as what has happened here is likely to happen again.
I cannot do justice to the scope of things I have set up and so I present this as an apology, a rough round up of the events around Origins and all the subsequent DLC. For your consumption the destinies of the 108 characters who I found to be the backbone of Niall's story in my recent playthrough.
Ruled over Amaranthine from Vigil's Keep but none are sure if he did so as Warden-Commander or as Niall Cousland. His violent capriciousness has waned and many of the common folk regard him as a cruelly pragmatic hero.
Enough of his mental faculties were returned to his control that he might take the throne and rule. Supported Niall of his own will.
Arl Eamon Guerrin
He attempted to undermine Niall and his company many times but was always unsuccessful.
With Niall's blessing she left with their unborn child. When the time came he did not pass through the eluvian after her.
The spirit of Niall the mage, or the spirit that had taken on his memories and knowledge was reborn as Heroism inside Niall Cousland. In time the two became one entity: equal parts noble and monstrous.
Taught Niall much about how to use the spirit dwelling within him and assisted in defending the Arling but eventually departed.
Took over as the teyrn of Highever and campaigned amongst the nobility on behalf of Niall and his company.
Assists Niall by manipulating the lesser nobility and maintaining "Order" in the alienage. He and Niall meet frequently and there are rumors they are in love.
Continued to serve as Niall's personal knight and defender. Refashioned the minds of the Circle mages and Templars alike to protect himself.
Bann Teagan Guerrin
Ruled over Redcliffe in Eamon's place. Secretly impeded his brother's attempts to undermine Niall.
Boris the Mabari
Always the faithful companion to Niall.
His healing magic proved useful to Niall and the Wardens though his personality proved grating.
Desire roams free.
Niall established a professional relationship with the Crows with Ignacio as his point of contact.
Twice he forced himself into Niall's company and was tolerated only because of his talent for eviscerating darkspawn.
Remained in the Circle Tower and did not journey with Niall. They would never know how much they had in common.
Not wishing to see his or his allies' lives ended by the Taint, Niall allowed Avernus to continue his bloody research.
King Bhelen Aeducan
Ruled over Orzammar as King, his reign was uncompromising but forced dwarven society to begin to change for the better. His personal connection to Niall has allowed Orzammar to acquire some lucrative trading opportunities.
Still a very confused man. Often used by Jowan as a guinea pig for his new blood spells such as 'Unending Erection' and 'Instant Ejaculation'.
In the end she chose her old life as a rogue over her faith.
The Lady of the Forest
With her pact with Niall fulfilled, she took her pack and departed for other lands.
He left with the rest of the pack but he remembers fondly the time he spent fighting alongside Niall.
Forever thankful to Niall. House Ortan and the Couslands enjoy a strong political friendship.
An agreement was struck between her and Niall behind Morrigan's back. Whereabouts unknown.
Studied at the Circle and made many discoveries, never seemed to notice or care about Jowan's corruption.
Held Niall in high esteem after the young Cousland assisted him in seizing control of the Irregulars.
First Enchanter Irving
The Circle had been rid of demons, spirits and abominations but not the subtle manipulations of Jowan's blood magic. Unwittingly protects Jowan and Niall.
Niall liked his 'pluck' and after a severe beating to ease Vaughan's ego he was allowed to go free. Continues to live in a back corner of the Alienage; coincidentally Vaughan leaves that general area alone.
Nearly caught onto Jowan's machinations but his doubts were eventually quelled along with his free will.
Abused by Niall for a time and eventually released on the merits of his 'fortitude'. Currently working at The Pearl.
Recovering from the horrors of blood magic and demons. Unaware he has since been corrupted by Jowan.
Delilah convinced him to let go of his grudge towards Niall and he became a trusted member of the Wardens.
Attempting to live a life of her own, free of her father's crimes. Convinced Nathaniel that they father was right to die at Niall's hands.
Continued to travel as merchant and eventually ended up in Kirkwall.
Traveled with Bodahn and enchanted many items.
Anora Mac Tir
Spent her years isolated in a tower, not knowing if she would ever see the throne she had desired so strongly.
Loghain Mac Tir
Executed at the Landsmeet by Alistair.
Niall personally saw to Howe's death: cleaving him in half, starting at the cock and slicing upwards. It did not restore what was lost but it brought some measure of peace to he and Fergus.
Recruited into the Blackstone Irregulars by Niall. Not a good fighter but hardy.
Recruited into the Blackstone Irregulars by Niall. The horrors of the undead at Redcliffe steeled him for the coming battles.
Recruited into the Blackstone Irregulars by Niall. Became a valuable member of the organisation and eventually Taoran's lover.
Begrudgingly worked with Niall to track down Morrigan and retrieve a tome stolen from her tribe.
Assisted Niall in finding Morrigan and after that task was completed continued to travel with Ariane.
Died during the Joining which greatly disappointed Niall. Had the heart of a hero despite being a criminal.
Was killed by Duncan during the Joining when he refused to drink from the chalice. A knight in name only, possessed the heart of a coward.
Worked tirelessly to repair and fortify Vigil's Keep.
Niall procured his services to help increase the flow of trade at Vigil's Keep.
Disappeared shortly after Alistair's crowning. It is uncertain whether she has abandoned Anora or is simply biding her time from afar.
Tended to the grounds of Vigil's Keep out of loyalty to Nathaniel.
Supplied Niall with more exotic goods as per Niall's agreement with the Antivan Crows.
Was conscripted into the Amaranthine forces to atone for his crime of theft. Turned out to be a surprisingly good soldier.
Despite his impressive assets his status as a Dalish made him an afront to Niall and so the Cousland youth murdered him.
Ensured the weapons and armor of Niall's forces were properly enchanted with runes.
Knight-Comamnder Harrith (Sound Setting)
Worked with Niall to prevent external investigations into the dealings of the mages. It is unclear if he knows or cares about Jowan's corruption of the Tower.
Continued to turn a profit despite Wade's eccentricities.
His research proved essential in securing the pinch of Andraste's ashes that saved Eamon's life. Against wiser counsel began spreading word of the ashes.
His apothecary supplies proved vital to the treatment of those wounded in the Mother's final assault.
Murdered by Howe's men when they attacked Highever. Indignities were visited upon her body by the men and what was left of her was buried with her son.
Murdered by Howe's men when they attacked Highever. His body was found and he was buried with his mother.
Presumed to have died in the defense of Highever against Howe's men but his corpse was never recovered.
Free of the demon he was eventually sent to the Circle and after becoming a full mage traveled to Tevinter to study The Fade.
One of Niall's contacts within the Merchant's Guild of Amaranthine. Helped coordinate the trade flow through the Wending Wood.
One of Niall's contacts within the Merchant's Guild of Amaranthine. Reimbursed Niall on behalf of the guild for services rendered.
Coordinated the flow of trade in Amaranthine and assisted Niall in managing its treasury.
Concocted many bombs which proved useful in the defense of Vigil's Keep.
Ambassador of the Circle sent to Vigil's Keep. Her usefulness and wit spared her from Niall's predations.
While Nially was impressed with his skill he could not forgive Zevran's attempt on his life. He snapped Zevran's neck while they fucked.
Grievously injured in the attack on Highever. Watched as his wife was cut down before him defending Niall's escape with Duncan and was then killed.
Fiercely defended her dying husband and the escape route of her surviving son Niall. She felled dozens first with bow and arrow, then knife and finally tooth and nail before being cut down.
Died in the Battle of Ostagar. His personal effects were recovered from the darkspawn.
Niall brought her encrypted scrolls from the Temple of Sacred Ashes which turned out to be lost verses of the Chant. Being an avid fan of literature Niall requested copies of the translations.
Niall convinced him to lead a contingent of the Legion of the Dead against the Blight.
Niall assisted in smuggling a shipment of lyrium to Godwin; a task made easier by Jowan's control over the Circle.
Was slain along with the other cultists while attempting to defend the high dragon they believed to be Andraste reborn.
Left to rot in his cage in Lothering.
Still standing inanimate in Honnleath.
Niall agreed to help Rogek with smuggling a shipment of lyrium to the Circle and made a tidy profit.
Her obsession with the Anvil of the Void put her at odds with Niall whose pragmatism did not stretch far enough to preserve the Anvil. Slain in combat.
His hatred created the werewolves but his pride prevented him from taking responsibility. His throat was torn out by The Lady of the Forest.
His corpse was recovered from Ostagar and burned on a funeral pyre. Niall lamented that he and the former king never got to have sex.
Assisted Niall in repelling in the darkspawn threat in Amaranthine.
Led a contingent of werewolves in the final battle against the Archdemon.
An outspoken voice for the elves, she improved the quality of life in the Alienage and was appointed elder. A woman of incredible fortitude and selflessness, she did not allow the injustices once visited upon her by Vaughan prevent her from negotiating with him.
Attempted to slay the Archdemon in the siege of Denerim but fell instead.
Her loyalty to Loghain was unwavering. She died trying to capture Niall.
Thanks to Niall's generous donations he was able to properly prepare the knights of Redcliffe for the Blight.
Niall cut her down to protect himself and the surrounding areas from any further assaults by her.
Created many exotic weapons and pieces of armor.
Was rewarded by Niall for providing information on the emergence of darkspawn in Knotwood Hills.
Requested Niall's help in locating his missing brother. After rescuing his brother the horrors of Amgarrak he established a political friendship with the Couslands.
Rescued by Niall and Jerrik from Amgarrak.
Torn apart by werewolves in the raid on the Dalish Camp.
She could not accept her transformation or the pain it brought. She attacked Niall forcing him to end her life.
Niall glimpsed what he could become in Uldred and he was undeterred in embracing the spirit of Niall the mage. Uldred refused to compromise or form an alliance and was slain.
After Niall saved her from bandits she returned the favor by pouring her time into increasing the flow of trade at Vigil's Keep.
Niall did not bid the spirit possessing Sophia's corpse ill but was unable to negotiate peace between it and Avernus. Niall chose Avernus' valuable research over Sophia's promises of treasure.
Dueled Niall to the death in an attempt to avenge Cailan. His body was found with his personal mace rammed up his asshole.
A knight of Dragon's Peak who did not survive her Joining. Niall honored her assistance in repelling the first darkspawn attack on Vigil's Keep.
Niall challenged her to a game of Wicked Grace to earn a lesson on Duelist techniques. He won.
Niall could not permit a darkspawn, any darkspawn to live.
Was used as a sacrifice to grant entrance to The Fade so that her son could be freed of the desire demon.
Was the liaison between Niall and the Orzammar forces. His tireless preparations proved themselves when his forces held the gate of Denerim with few casualties.
Eddelbrek raised concerns about the unprotected farmland of the Arling. Niall reviewed the assignment of soldiers so that the farmlands and trade routes could be better protected.
Slain along with the other Dalish of Zathrian's clan. Niall was unsure what to do with the ironbark gave it to Wade.
Emissary of the werewolves, assisted in defending the camp from an ambush of Shrieks.
Niall returned ownership of his lands to him thus earning his loyalty.
None were more surprised than Niall himself when he allowed the Dalish archer Jacen to join his forces at Vigil's Keep.
A merchant who made sure Vigil's Keep was always well-stocked with supplies.