All recognisabel characters, lore and locations belong to BioWare, Vallen is mine.
Authers Note: This story is meant as an introduction to the character of Vallen Surana, who I intend to put in a lot of difficult positions in a post Blight/Awakening story I'm working on. I wanted to introduce the character and get his origin and Blight story out of the way saving me the trouble of tedious flashbacks, a plot device I'm not that fond of. Enjoy.
Blackness surrounded Vallen Surana, alleviated only by the pale flickering light of a single candle slowly burning before him. The elf mage sat cross legged and naked on the rug in his room at Redcliff Castle meditating, savouring the peace that had become almost nothing more than a memory in the last few months of hard toil, trying to align the myriad forces that called Ferelden home and brake the Blight.
In some respects the hardest part of the mustering had been done, having gone from just himself and fellow junior warden Alistair, along with the apostate mage Morrigan, he had gathered a band of skilled fighters to support him and gained the assistance of the forces of the Dalish clans, the Dwarfs or Orzammar, the Circle of Magi and at the very least the soldiers of the Arldom of Redcliff. Now was the bands first night on their return to Arl Eamon's Redcliff Castle for a few nights of well earned rest before they accompanied the Arl to the Landsmeet in Denerim, to confront the traitor Teryn Loghain Mac Tir and, hopefully, fully unite Ferelden and lead them in the war against the Darkspawn. This despite the fact that Vallen didn't have the slightest idea about marshaling forces, battle tactics for an army or the simple logistics of feeding 20 000+ men, women, dwarfs and elves on blighted land.
For now though, Vallen just let his mind wonder over the events of the last 6 months or so that had brought him to this place, both physically and mentally. He had been a young mage in the Circle Tower, the youngest to pass the Harrowing in several generations, and a favourite pupil of First Enchanter Irving. Then his only friend Jowan had proven to be a Blood Mage, but only after enlisting his friend's help in destroying his phylactery, thereby preventing the Templar's from tracking Jowan once he escaped from the Circle. And escape he did, injuring several Templar's, Knight-Commander Greagoir amongst them, along the way. Though Vallen was helping Jowan, he was also informing on him to Irving, all the while hopping he could find some way to get Jowans name cleared and alleviate the suspicions of the Templar's. How naive he had been back then. The resultant fall out of this little episode saw him accepting the offer to join the Grey Wardens as the best of a series of bad options. Then came Ostagar.
He could still taste the fear of that night, smell the fires of destruction that came with such a battle and most of all feel the tightness of the scarred skin where two arrows had pierced his right shoulder in the Tower of Ishal, life threatening wounds he had received only moments after lighting the beacon that was supposed to signal Teyrn Loghains charge into the flanks of the Darkspawn. Instead the Teryn turned traitor and ordered a full retreat, leaving his King and the majority of Fereldens Grey Wardens to their vicious end. Vallen couldn't remember being saved that night, though Flemeth claimed that he hadn't lost consciousness until they had arrived at her hut. The fear and the desperation though, that never left him.
He remembered the days following his departure from Flemeths hut with fondness, a group of rag-tag adventurers gathered along the road, out on an impossible mission and with responsibilities that were so titanic in their proportions that they couldn't really be comprehended, and so weighed only on the back of his mind, a dark shadow behind them, cast by the bright sun before them. Even learning that, in a cruel twist of irony, Loghain had declared the Wardens traitors and placed a bounty on their heads had done little to dampen the groups spirits,not least because Loghains footpads would prove time and again to be rather inept. But their first visit to Redcliff changed all that in having to decide the fate of a young boy, possessed by a demon, and finding that his old "friend" Jowan was at the root of it all. Nothing fucks with the mind more than having to decide between three bad choices; killing a 10 year old boy, participating in a Blood Magic ritual that would save the boy, but kill his mother or leave to enlist the help of the Circle but allowing the demon to continue its reign of terror for days on end. The sobs and pleas of the arlessa, Isolde, begging for him to save her child still resounded in his head. In the end Vallen had left for the Circle leaving Sten and Morrigan behind to assist with anymore reanimated dead that might show up and hopefully keep a lid on the demons activities, knowing that whatever choice he made there was a chance people would end up dead.
The return to the Tower had been a huge shock in itself, with blood mages, demons and Abominations running amok and the Templar's ready to call for the Right of Annulment and butcher all inside. Having a Sloth demon mess with your head doesn't help matters either. In the end he was able to save the Circle and the boy, Connor, as well, much to Vallen's relief, and gaining the support of the mages into the bargain as well. Sitting here in the darkness, reviewing those first couple of months on the road, Vallen knew it was that time in Redcliff and his return to the Tower that did most to change him from the naïve, idealistic mage that walked down the Imperial Highway to Ostagar with Duncan to the battle hardened, road weary and almost gaunt looking realist that sat in front of a candle in a darkened room, glad to be alone with his thoughts and away from the drunken laughter of his companions down the hall (well, Oghrens was the only one certain to be drunken). All this backed up by the fact that he was a Grey Warden, which meant the unceasing whispering of the Darkspawn, usually unnoticeable during the day whilst his waking mind was on the move but they thundered through his dreams as he lay down to rest.
Of course, saving the Tower and Connor still left Arl Eamon on his deathbed. Cue another harebrained quest, this time to find Andraste's Urn of Sacred Ashes, of all things. Vallen still wasn't sure what was more surprising, that he took up the challenge in the first place or that the Ashes actually existed and possessed the restorative properties that legend spoke of. He still didn't believe in the Maker, or that Andraste was some kind of prophet, but he knew there was a lot he couldn't remotely begin to explain here, and with plenty of other, more pressing, matters on his mind, Vallen wasn't about to try. The irony at the end of all this was that the fully recovered Arl decided to let Vallen deal with Jowan. His initial reaction was to incinerate the Blood Mage, but he quickly realised that that wasn't justice, just spite, anger and blood lust, so he had Jowan handed over to the Circle so the Templar's could deal with him, knowing that he probably faced death all the same. Looking back now he wasn't so sure that that was justice, and not just passing on the responsibility for the mages death, essentially washing his hands clean.
This left him and his motley crew marching on towards the Brecilian forest in hope of finding one of the Dalish clans. Vallen had to admit that he approached this portion of his journey with a great degree of curiosity, he knew all about the down trodden lives of the elves in the alienages of Thedas cities, and the elves of the Circle were in the same silk lined cage, watched like deranged villains by the Templar's, with all the other mages, but he knew little of his free cousins. What he found was a proud, nomadic people that took great satisfaction in being custodians of ancient elven lore, or what little was left of it. Their skills as hunters, woodsmen and craftsmen with the natural resources of the forest was exceptional and he knew that Leliana favoured her custom made Dalish armour over even the Drake Scale armour of Master Wade of Denerim, that ironbark was certainly tough. But he also saw that they were so heavily focused on retaining what fleeting pieces of knowledge from ancient Arlathan that they could scrape together that they stood still as a people with little social or technological development. In short, stagnant, almost a mockery of their claims to be the future of their people, leaving the elven mage with no clear view of them other than that they were in serious need of clear leadership as a people, since stagnation was all they were going to get as things are.
Of course, the clans didn't instantly jump up and shout "We will fight the Blight with you!". Oh no, that would have been too easy, and too much like common sense for there to have been any chance of it happening. He had to break a werewolves curse that was infecting this clans fighters. The long, roundabout trek through the woods led him to a powerful being called both The Lady and Witherfang, a spirit trapped inside the body of a great wolf and possessing a duel nature. In the end it turned out Zathrien, the clans Keeper, was several centuries old and responsible for the curse, both thanks too Blood Magic. The end result saw the death of both Witherfang and Zathrien to break the curse, but only after a protracted battle with the bitter Keeper to force him into ending the curse. To Vallen, the trip through the forest had felt like a wild goose chase (but with werewolves) to appease the bitterness of one old mans shrivelled heart. However, the little jaunt hadn't been a complete farce as he had discovered a potent ancient elven magic form that gave credence to the stories of Arlathan. Vallen could now rightfully claim to being an Arcane Warrior, one of the first in centuries, possibly longer. The result being that this mage walked around wearing the steel armour of Warden Commander Sophia Dryden from the old Grey Warden fortress of Soldiers Keep and wielding the sword and dagger of his dead mentor, Duncan, that he had liberated from the reanimated body of a dead Ogre when the group had returned to Ostagar to retrieve King Cailens armour and personal storage chest as well as to lay the dead Kings body to rest. However, just because he had learnt to channel his magical energies through his body to augment his physical self, to the point were he actively drew on the fade to empower his stamina, strength and agility, he was still a novice at combat with a blade and had spent almost every night since being trained by Alistair, Zevran and Leliana on how to wield a blade effectively. The result was that he was an extremely versatile warrior and his ability to perform both arcane and physical attacks now made him the most deadly of combatants on any given battlefield.
On gaining the clans assistance that just left the dwarfs of Orzammar and the 3 week slog across most of the country and through the Frostback mountains, picking up a free thinking golem along the way to join their group. Then there was Orzammar itself and learning that he and his companions would have the odious task of effectively deciding witch of the two pretenders to the cities unclaimed throne he would give the Paragons Crown to. This after a dangerous trek through the Darkspawn infested Deep Roads to find the Paragon, Branka, and the Anvil of the Void, the artifact that was responsible for creating golems. The decisions Vallen made that day still left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he needed a dwarven king to get a dwarven army. His choice had been simple, the xenophobic traditionalist Lord Harrowmont, who wished to enforce the ridiculously ridged cast system whilst pursuing an ever more isolationist policy, even going as far as to limit the entry to the city of topsiders, dwarf or otherwise. In the 1200 year war that the dwarfs had been fighting against the Darkspawn, right from the start of the first Blight, these policies hadn't served them well then and the 12 great cities of the old empire were now just the two estranged, failing powers of Orzammar and Kal'Sharock and so Vallen wasn't particularly inclined to place a king on the thrown that would continue to lead them down this road of a slow death.
Or there was Prince Bhelen, the third son of the late King who was clearly much more of a forward thinker with a strong desire to see reform within dwarven life and even utilise the castless to strengthen the people as a whole. An unthinkable taboo for most dwarfs within the cast system, but from Vallens point of view an obvious decision given the prodigious resource of Jarvia and her illicit carta. But the man was far from perfect, he was vindictive and petty with a vicious temper and a fierce blood lust who desired power above all. A difficult choice between slow death and tyranny. Vallen had even considered giving the Paragons Crown to Lord Helmi, who seemed to have a straighter head on than anyone else in that city but realised he would probably have been chased from Orzammar before the words could have left his mouth. So Bhelen it was, knowing that he wouldn't live forever and that his changes were likely to strengthen the dwarfs in the long run, maybe to the point were they could even consider reclaiming some of the Deep Roads. But Vallen hoped that he would never have to see the dwarven King again as he might just run his sword through him. And along the way he'd picked up yet another misfit, the drunk Oghren who just happened to be the most capable fighter Orzammar had to offer! Picking up strays was beginning to become quite a habit.
As his internal narrative caught up on events, Vallen turned his mined to the companions he now travelled with. He considered them all friends in their way, in truth his only friends given his unhappy life within the Tower, but he recognised that they were also a large part of the strain he felt when considered as a group, with the exception of his mabari hound, Grond (so named from a wolfs head battering ram that featured in an interesting fantasy novel he once discovered in the Circle Tower). In short, most of them didn't like each other and it was this constant attempt to keep a lid on the potentially destructive personality clashes between most of his companions, with Morrigan, Zevran and Allistair seeming to take great pleasure from antagonizing each other and their companions. Indeed, recently Vallen had had to step in on several occasion to prevent his friends from coming to blows, something he was becoming thoroughly fed up with and was no doubt adding to his surliness of recent weeks, as if saving the world wasn't enough. They made far better company when he talked to just one or two of them at a time. The ladies, Morrigan and Leliana, especially had given him many a pleasant evening whilst on the road as they related the tales of their former lives and how they had come to be here, though never at the same time and rarely within earshot of each other. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that he was of like mind with these two more than any of the others, despite the fact that they initially seemed to be complete opposites but found that their views were not always so very different and in the end tended to complemented each other, as long as you didn't include the subject of the Chantry in that.
The elf tried to force his mind to continue, to consider all of his companions, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't take his mind off of Leliana. The beautiful Orlesian Bard who was deadly with a blade and angelic with her voice, who carried herself with the air of nobility but without the self serving superiority, and a temper that was as fiery as her red hair. Vallen thought of the ease with which they talked, or more accurately, she talked and he listened, of the stories she told of the wider world, her unique belief that the Maker had not abandoned the world (a subject he only half heartedly contributed too, Vallen had long learned that debates on the subject of religion and the nature of gods tended to end heatedly and rarely swayed any ones opinion, so he tried to avoid them and focus on something more productive, like dinner). More intently he listened to her stories of her earlier life in Orlais, as one of the Bards, spies for hire amongst the nations narcissistic and bloated nobility. Despite the gravity of the situation he found himself in, he couldn't help but feel his heart quicken and his mood lighten as his memories roamed through all he knew of her. To himself Vallen made no secret of the fact that he cared deeply for the woman, but cursed his laconic manner and lonesome life as he found he had no way to express his feelings to her without feeling the fool, and in truth he was afraid of her rejection. She was older by several years, though far from being old, and far more knowledgeable both in matters of the world around them and in matters of love, making no secret of her lascivious past to him. How does a novice stand up to be recognised in such matters with a master?
Vallen could also get no hint that she might remotely feel the same way about him, not that he would have recognised the hint if it had hit him in the face with the flat of Sten's greatsword! What he had also noticed was Leliana's seemingly increased friendliness with the assassin Zevran and with Alistair, though he could admit to himself that jealousy might be playing a part here. More importantly he valued the friendship he had built up with the redhead and didn't really want to lose that, particularly given the difficulties he had sorting out the clashes between everyone else. In the end, he procrastinated, not knowing what to do.
Sighing, Vallen refocused his mind, not wanting to get stuck on one subject and so let his mind wonder, trying to capture that peace that he knew he would need to be at his best for the trials to come.
Leliana made her way down the dimly lit corridor in Redcliff, making her way towards Vallen's room, and thankful to be in a dress rather than the same set of leather armour that she had spent much of the last 6 months in!
"Ah, such luxury is a bath and comfortable shoes, I will miss them when we are on the road again" she quietly mused to herself.
Despite her lazy thoughts, Leliana actually had a reason for coming down here. It had not escaped her notice that Vallen was becoming increasingly reticent and surly, as likely to snap as smile at someone, as the weeks passed and the pressures of uniting Ferelden and defeating the Blight increased on an almost daily basis. Her amazing powers of observation had been honed in The Game back in Orlais, where a sharp eye and keen mind were needed to find the smallest chinks in the political and social armour of her targets so noticing her friends changes were no great challenge. But it still worried her.
She enjoyed the company of Vallen, someone who was so refreshingly... innocent, who's motivation in stopping the Blight wasn't remotely self serving or egotistical. His open mind, hungry for knowledge of the world around him, made him a great listener and Leliana had plenty of stories to tell, which had even led to her divulging a lot of information about her former life, something she had never remotely meant to do when she joined the obviously apprehensive Wardens back in Lothering. Though hardly a loquacious man, usually just offering a comment or two in reply to what ever was being discussed with him, Vallen had been able to ask searching questions of her without ever offering judgment on her actions, something she carried enough pain over as it was. But their late night talks when they had the last watch and were trying to stay awake had formed a close bond between them, a bond that was solidified when he helped her deal with Marjolaine when the self obsessed bitch had sent assassins after her. The mage had had no real reason to put himself on the line for her as she could have been easily sent away to avoid further attacks on the party. But no, he had offered to go with her and confront her former lover in Denerim on their last visit to the city and had even spoken up in the defence of Leliana's character. It was that moment that Leliana realised she had found someone that cared for her for who she was and asked nothing in return, expected no favours, no services rendered and certainly didn't make demands of her, in short a true friend, something the bard found very touching.
Of course, she had also noticed that close proximity and physical contact between them whilst alone and attempts to pry into his private life in the Circle Tower where met with a nervousness that she wasn't used to seeing in him. The woman suspected that Vallen's feelings for her might extend beyond simple friendship and his youthfulness held him back in expressing himself to her. But she knew that her responsibilities as a friend meant she would have to try and push past those barriers to help as he fought to withstand the pressures on him. She also liked the elf enough to consider that a closer relationship would be no bad thing at all.
Upon reaching his door she rapped lightly but was met with no response, "Vallen?" she quietly called as she knocked again, slightly harder this time. Once again she was met with silence. It was early evening so he was unlikely to be asleep and his terse remark about needing rest as he left his companions earlier suggested he hadn't gone out from the keep. Quietly she turned the handle on the door and pushed it open.
Inside she was greeted by almost total darkness, but quickly noticed the low burning candle shedding only a modicum of light, barely illuminating the meditating mage sat cross legged before it. Carefully Leliana closed the door quietly and made her way over to Vallen.
He could sense the presence of someone else in the room moments before he felt the soft hand with callused finger tips, from regular lute playing, that could only mean Leliana, but he still started at the unexpected touch.
"Vallen, are you alright?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm and sitting down on his right side, quickly realising that he wasn't just shirtless and that pointing this out might not be such a good idea.
"Err... y-yes, sorry I wasn't expecting any company." he managed to stutter out, looking down at himself and cursing his own state of undress and the fact that there was a candle right in front of him making it rather obvious.
"Why are you sitting here in the dark, all alone on the first night of comfort any of us have had in a long time? Do you not want to join us in enjoying this short rest?"
Vallen paused, he could tell that she was trying to get at something but he wasn't sure what, and given how perceptive she was, his initial thoughts of being evasive probably wouldn't work. So the truth it was.
"No." he sighed "I am tired and in no mood to make myself acceptable to company. So I am here meditating, gathering my strength as we soon head to Denerim to face Teyrn Loghain, and after that the Archdemon. The darkness just helps me block out distractions."
"You need to relax whilst you can, you bear a great weight for all of us as saving Ferelden is no simple matter, to which the scars you carry attest. Me, I intend to make the most of our stay her in Redcliff and ease my tired limbs. Reminding myself of the more pleasant aspects of life wont go amiss either." Leliana pointedly added this last remark, trying to get a rise from Vallen.
"You think I need to relax? That I have become too focused on the act of killing, whether it be bandits, Darkspawn or Loghains footpads?" Vallen responded, somewhat defensively.
Leliana knew that now she would have to take the plunge, hoping that she wasn't pushing too far and that the elf would see her point and continue, and not criticism and close up. "Killing, no, but saving Ferelden, yes. We have all seen the changes within you on our journey and though you have truly risen to the challenges before you without loosing sight of your principles, you are no longer the easiest of people to work with. A reminder of the joys of life whilst we have this chance may do you good, yes?" She finished this by placing her hand on his shoulder, touching the scars from his arrow wounds, a clear reminder of just how much this mage had been through, and inadvertently also making him tense up. Leliana saw this as a chance to move on to more prying questions, so in a coquettish tone she began.
"Why do you tense up so when I get close to you? I promise I wont bite, well, unless you want me to. Are we not close, you certainly know far more about me than probably anyone else alive. Come, you can share your thoughts with me."
Vallen looked away and blushed, hesitating, unsure of what to say. He looked around and fully realised that it was just the two of them, alone in his darkened room with just a single candle for light. He decided there and then that he would do just as she asked and make his thoughts known, and hoped for all he was worth that it went well.
Shifting uncomfortably he turned and looked Leliana in the eye "It's because I love you Lel, I... I have just never known how to say it".
Leliana had suspected as much, but still to hear it out in the open from him made her heart flutter. Silly girl, she thought, but I do care so much for this elf. She responded the only way she knew how, by leaning forward and kissing Vallen. It was a light kiss, but it spoke volumes of how she felt for him as well.
Surprisingly, even to himself, Vallen didn't tense at her touch and allowed himself to revel in the moment, but soon turned away, his eyes unfocused, seeing the lonely past that he had known and questioning whether he should let this women who had taken his heart in to this very private core of his being, afraid of the rejection that may follow. Leliana saw the look in his eyes and knew that it was memories that held his attention.
"Please Vallen, let me in, tell me what is it that haunts you?".
Turning back to look at Leliana, Vallen realised that no internal debate was necessary, he had already made the decision to tell her the secrets of his life before she even kissed him.
Placing his hand in hers, Vallen looked at the candle and began his tale.
"There is no great singular event in my past that has left me scarred, no terrifying horror I have seen in my childhood. I was born in the alienage in Denerim and, I am told, was a quiet child, rarely crying or shouting about like the other children. My magical abilities also developed very early in life, I was but 6 years old when the Templar's came to take me to the Circle Tower. Most children that are brought to the Tower are about 10 years, some a little older, some a little younger, but rarely is one as young as me taken there. Because I was so young the Senior Enchanters decided against teaching me how to directly control magic by casting spells, but limited it to exercises of discipline so that I wouldn't become a danger. They also began to teach me in earnest how to read, write and count. I proved adept, with a hunger for knowledge, and by the time I was 8 I could read and write in not just Ferleden, but in Old Tevinter as well."
"It is my guess that at this point First Enchanter Irving took an interest in me, seeing a mage that he could groom from childhood to become a First Enchanter at some point in the future. So at the age of 8 I was thrown headlong into my studies of the Fade, and I proved to be as adept as the Enchanters thought I would be. All very well and good, but the downsides of this are numerous."
"With my proficiency came great expectations that I would succeed in learning all 4 schools of magic to a great extent, and the usual fear and suspicion from Templar's that I would learn the fifth school Blood Magic, and in some cases learn them quickly and so I was put under pressure to do so, with the usual punishment to apprentices that fail to complete their work on time being meted out to me if I ever failed to live up to these expectations. However, I quickly found myself being taught with other apprentices that on some occasions were as much as 5 years older than me. At first the other apprentices looked down on me as a child, which I was, and then with envy and even jealousy as it became apparent just how advanced my natural abilities are. The result was that the other children weren't so quick to seek my friendship, or accept it, and of course they saw the extra tuition I was receiving and the large workload I had to deal with outside of classes and realised that I had little in the way of free time to myself anyway."
"Then of course other children my own age were being brought in to the Circle Tower as their abilities manifested themselves, and I never had much chance to spend time with them because of the pressure I was under and the fact that I was becoming a highly trained mage may have been intimidating, it certainly was for me. Plus, being an elf in a predominantly human society and being obviously so much better than the human children who had only just been brought to the Tower was never going to help."
"I thought you said racial problems were not so bad in the Tower?" Leliana interjected.
"After a few years they're not, as our talent for manipulating the Fade becomes a large factor in social standing for the apprentices and with the mages we are all united in our dislike of the Templar's, to a greater or lesser degree. But children arriving at the Circle Tower for the first time will be used to seeing elves live in squalor in the alienage or running around as servants in the city or in the larger homes. Equality with elves is a largely foreign concept." said Vallen.
"Anyway, to continue with my tale, I don't think I did myself too many favours on the few occasions I was asked to help tutor another apprentice in one area or another. Some felt insulted that they were being shown how to perform a spell by a young boy, or an elf, with most I just proved that teaching is definitely not my strength. As for matters of love, I was definitely out in the cold on that. The girls in my own class were all much older than me and were more interested in the older apprentices and the newly Harrowed mages, those my own age I rarely had much contact with outside of meal times, and even then I was distant from most of the other apprentices. Jowan was the only friend I ever had in the Tower as his abilities certainly seemed to take quite a jump in those last few years and he became the best of the other apprentices so we found ourselves working together more often. Now I realise that his friendship with me could have acted as a cover against recrimination from others since his jump in ability was all because of Blood Magic and he would have needed something to deflect that, like the idea that I was teaching him."
"The point of this long, sad tale is that you should know that, though I am just past my 20th year, I had never had a true friend until I met Alistair in Ostagar. And before I met you, I don't think I have ever had strong feelings for anyone, and so I have sat in our camps, night after night thinking about you, trying to find something to say that would impress you, to make you take notice of me the way I want you to. Silver spooned Zevran doesn't know how lucky he is!" As Vallen finished his tale he found that he couldn't look Leliana in the eye's again, so settled for looking straight ahead and mulling over the memories of loneliness he had just dredged up.
Leliana watched Vallens face and could see him slip back into his brooding. She couldn't help but empathise and sympathise with him after such a tail of loneliness, but she didn't feel sorry for him as the sacrifice of a more normal adolescence, if any a young life in the Circle of Magi could be considered as such, was the great power that he now wielded against the Darkspawn horde, and soon the Archdemon, and more importantly was that he was now surrounded by friends. More than that, he now had her. This elf, who had little experience dealing with people and their complex social interactions, who had spent months listening to all her tales, and offering support when she needed it as her past came back to haunt her, had now confided the truth of much of his young life to her, something he had shared with no one else. She loved him, and decided to make sure he knew it. Placing her left hand on his shoulder, she deftly unlaced the bodice of her dress and quickly swung her legs round to sit astride his lap with her arms around his neck. Then she kissed him, hard and passionately. It lasted mere moments, but to each it felt like years. When she pulled away and saw the shocked expression on his face she couldn't help but giggle, and continued to smile while she talked to him.
"You were not expecting that I see. You may not have Zevrans talent for small talk but you are honest and caring and I trust and love you for it. Hmmm... I see that our sword training has worked wonders on you." She said, carefully running her fingers lightly over his toned muscles.
"Er... ha, it helps with the armour, I can't rely on magic for everything!" Vallen said, finding his voice after the initial shock and gaining confidence.
Reaching down between them, Leliana quickly removed her smallclothes, locks weren't the only things her fingers could get through quickly and deftly, and then began to fondle Vallen. As she slid herself down upon him, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear "Its just the two of us, in a quite room with a comfy looking bed, now help me out of this dress and lets make the most of the free time we have."
Vallen didn't hesitate.
Later, as they lay together, panting but sated, Leliana asked him "That wasn't your first time was it? Most virgins tend to have a hair trigger."
Vallen looked uncomfortable as he responded "Uhm, no."
Liliana's eyes alighted and she asked "Really, do tell?"
"You remember our first visit to Denerim, where Sergeant Kylon asked us to take care of a problem with mercenaries at The Pearl?"
"Yes, you Zevran and Sten went along to deal with it while the rest of us resupplied." said Leliana.
"Yes, well, after we had chased off the mercenaries, I decided that I would see what the Pearl had to offer, as it were."
"Had to offer? Don't tell me you paid for your first time!" exclaimed Leliana.
"Yes, seeing as I thought I had no chance with you I thought some experience is better than none, even if it was with a whore."
"Well, I hope they gave you some one nice for your first time." said Leliana in a distinctly playful tone.
"Yes, a lovely young elven woman. Now lets get some rest, we have 3 more days to spend together without any responsibilities weighing us down, and I intend to make the most of them." said Vallen as he lay back and contemplated how much his life had changed in one night, and this time definitely for the better.