Note: this story is inspired by Morrigan from the game Dragon Age: Origins, but it can be read as a standalone piece as well.
***
Glamorous.
That was never a word I'd use to describe my life, at any point. From being born into squalor and into the oppression that the elves all over the kingdom experienced, I had never been someone who kept track of the latest trends in vogue or what the nobles were wearing this gala season. Even in the close-knit elven community where I grew up, I hadn't much time for primping and gossipping with the other young elven women—my mother had taught me to be a warrior, and I was more likely to be found sparring with my male cousins than sitting around a fire talking about the latest who-likes-who with my female compatriots.
And now, free of the elven slum I was born into, life had even less glamor, if that were possible. Traveling about the kingdom seeking aid from the various factions it contained to stop the oncoming demonic army was no easy task, and not one that lent itself to comfortable living. My comrades and I lived out of tents, ate whatever we could hunt down along with stale bread from the bottoms of our packs, and slept on the cold, hard ground every night—always with one eye open, as danger never sleeps.
So why then, as I was scraping the dirt and blood out from under my fingernails that had made its way there over the course of my latest adventure, did I feel like I was in the presence of royalty? The answer was quite simple.
Morrigan. The witch of the forest had decided to accompany us, at her mother's behest, to gather forces to stop the demonic blight. I was ever grateful for her company—and not in a way that entirely related to her skills with offensive magic. In fact, she was just as much a hindrance in a fight as she was a help, to no fault of her own. I just couldn't help the fact that I got so damn distracted whenever she was about, and I couldn't quite place why.
Of course, she was beautiful, the way she got that fierce snarl on her face when she was approached by an enemy, the way her brow and breast (oh so deliciously exposed by her deeply cut robes) alike would become slick with sweat as the concentration of casting spell after spell became strenuous, the fire in her eyes when she knew she had a battle won—all of it was simply breathtaking. But it's not as if I'd never been around beautiful women before, or even that I'd been stranger to their romantic company in the past. It was just something about Morrigan that made me so prone to—
Ouch. Lost in my thoughts, I'd accidentally scraped my knife a little too close to the tip of my finger under the nail and drawn a small but steady stream of blood. Sighing, I dropped the knife next to me on the riverbank and lowered my hand into the water to let the wound wash clean. Suddenly, I was startled by the sound of soft footsteps behind me. Tensing, I picked up my knife and turned around, ready to defend myself—only to find that the "threat" was nothing more than Morrigan. Specifically, Morrigan, wearing nothing more than a towel. Perhaps more dangerous than anything else I could have perceived, I thought bitterly.
"You don't mind if I have a quick dip here, do you?" she asked, her sultry voice light and melodic. Before I had a chance to answer, she had sat down next to me on the river bank and submerged her bare feet and calves into the water.
"No, I—of course not," I stuttered.
"Lovely." Morrigan let out a contented sigh, and I wasn't sure if she was referring to my response or to the perfect temperature of the gently flowing river on her alabaster skin. I decided to go with the latter.
"It does feel quite nice, doesn't it," I said, struggling to sound conversational. Why did she have to make me so damn nervous?
"It absolutely does," she responded. "In fact, I think I need to get a little more of it." With that, she dropped the towel, and it was all I could do for my jaw not to drop.
While it was true that her normal robes were far from conservative, I had never seen Morrigan completely in the flesh like this, and the glances I'd sneaked of the curve of her breast under the deep neckline of her robe did not disappoint. Her figure was stunning—her breasts were perky and full, and her stomach was slim but looked pleasantly soft, in contrast to the sharpness of her tongue. She had a small waist that bloomed out into a full and round hip, where her gorgeous behind sat still on the riverbank next to me.
Having dropped the towel, she slid slowly into the river below us, and let out a groan of satisfaction. I felt a rush of wetness that had nothing to do with the river begin to flood my panties, and I fought to tear my eyes away from Morrigan so I couldn't be accused of staring.
"I—I should probably get back to camp." I tried my damnedest to keep my voice steady. "You know, uh—get this finger all bandaged up."
"Oh, it doesn't look too badly injured," Morrigan said. "Stay with me, friend, let's have—what do your people call it? Hmm. A 'skinny dip'. It will be... fun." Her voice was unusually light and whimsical. It was astounding how much she had grown to trust in me, considering how guarded she had been when she first joined our journeying party. I did not take that trust lightly—I considered Morrigan a very dear friend and I trusted her back with my life. And that was why I needed to get out of here. Friends don't want friends to sit on their faces and grind them into the ground.
"I—haha, maybe next time, Morrigan, I think I'm really—I'm really bleeding over here!" I dramatically brandished my bleeding finger and stumbled to my feet. "Rain check though!"
"Fine, have it your way." Morrigan shrugged, and the last thing I saw before I turned and stumbled back to camp was her taking down her surprisingly long and lustrous black hair from its typical updo and letting it cascade behind her, carried gently by the river's flow.
***
I should be asleep. Lord knows what important battles we'll have to fight tomorrow and I should be well-rested for it. But damn it if I can get the image of Morrigan's beautiful black hair, tumbling down her back and flowing gently away from her full breasts, all slick with the river's moisture. Speaking of slick... No, I couldn't chance touching myself now. Not out here by the fire, I've got to go back into my tent.... But thinking about Morrigan bathing herself in that river, naked but for the transparent cloak of the clear water... I couldn't resist slipping a finger down into my panties and beginning to rub.
I bit my lip. I knew this was risky—any of my companions could come out of their tents at any moment and see what I was doing, including Morrigan herself. Unless... maybe that was what I wanted? I imagined how it would be. Morrigan would strut up to me with her typical confidence blooming in full, would see me with my hands in my panties. She'd pull my hand out by my wrist and would examine how covered in my juices it was and she would scold me gently. "My, what a naughty girl you've been," she might say. She'd make me lick my hand clean first, then she'd kiss me, finally, and my pussy juices would mingle between our lips as she'd reach down and pinch my nipples through my nightshirt, before reaching down further...
At that thought, I bit my lip and began to rub faster, imagining it was Morrigan's hand urging me closer and closer to climax...
Right as I was about to reach the peak, I heard the rustling of someone's tent. I quickly pulled my hand out of my panties and wiped it surreptitiously on my nightshirt. Damn it, I'd been deprived yet again. I turned to see who had the audacity to ruin my time with my Morrigan of fantasy.
Of course, cosmically, it was Morrigan herself. She was in her night clothes as well, which consisted of a purple satin camisole that was nearly as low cut as her robes, and a pair of black panties. Surprisingly cute and coordinated, for someone who literally grew up in a forest.
"I'm surprised to see you're still awake," she said casually, walking over to take a seat next to me by the fire. "Our fearless leader couldn't sleep?"
"No." I was sure I was blushing bright red, both with arousal and embarrassment, but I hoped the red glow of the fire made it look more natural. "I couldn't. I was, uh, thinking of new battle strategies."
"I see." Morrigan apparently chose not to call out my obvious lie. "Do you mind if I sit with you by the fire for a while? Perhaps you can... bounce some ideas off me."
"Um... sure. I don't mind." I suddenly became aware of just how close Morrigan was sitting next to me, and just how smooth her bare legs looked in the warm light of the fire.
For a while we just sat there. I can't say what she was doing during that time, because I was staring deep into the embers of the fire, willing myself not to run my eyes up and down her lovely alabaster legs again, from her surprisingly delicate toes up her calves, over her shapely thighs to what lie between... that, I could not even think about.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Morrigan spoke. "You're not as sneaky as you think, you know."
I was taken aback by her breaking of the silence, but even more so by her words. Still, I wasn't quite sure what she meant. "Well, I'm no rogue, if that's what you mean. Charging straight into a fight is more my style."
She cracked a small smile. "That is... not what I mean. I notice, you know. The staring."
I gulped. "Oh, Morrigan, I'm sorry about that, earlier today. You—you caught me off guard there at the river, I didn't mean to stare, that's why I left you to your bath—"
She laughed, and cut me off. "Stop your babbling. I don't just mean today. I mean all of it. I notice the way you look at me. I notice it by the campfire when all your compatriots are around. I notice it when we're on the road traveling through the night and I can barely keep my eyes open, that you can't keep your eyes off me. I notice it when we're fighting demons and I see your sword nearly fall right out of your hand because you can't concentrate."
Now I knew for a fact I was bright red. I was caught—Morrigan was laying all the facts out in front of me in a way that was too matter of fact for the secretive witch I knew. She certainly had a plan of some sort, some ulterior motive.
"Morrigan, I—I'm sorry," I stuttered. I couldn't think of what else to say.
"Don't be." She smirked. "But to repay me for all the hours of entertainment you've got from looking upon me, I have an important question to ask you."
I hung my head, refusing to make eye contact with Morrigan out of shame. "Of course."
There was a moment of silence before Morrigan continued. "Aren't you afraid, like all the others, that I'll turn you into a toad if your back is turned? Aren't you afraid if I lose control of my power I'll become an abomination and destroy all you hold dear? Aren't you even the littlest bit afraid? For my important question for you is this: What kind of woman is it that lusts after a witch?"
Here it was: Morrigan's berating of me. I should have known when these feelings began that I'd not be able to hide them. The least I could do was answer her honestly.
"Afraid? Maybe a little. But I am far less afraid than I am ashamed, Morrigan. You put your trust in me, and I know that that is not something you do easily. You called me a friend and I took advantage of that. I called you friend to your face and I turned and went back to my tent and dreamt of calling you my lover. We are here to do an important job and I have put you into an uncomfortable position in my company. I only hope that you can forgive me."
