This is my first kink meme response, which I've had a ton of fun doing while I'm still working on the epilogue for my other story. This is a two-shot, so the next part will be up soon. Takes place post-Legacy. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think :)

Two nights into their voyage and the Grey Wardens' had sailed into a electric summer storm, alive with brilliant blinding lightning and black thunderheads. With high winds and seas, Carver sought shelter below deck with the others, where it was both warm and dry, although the constant rocking to and fro did little to help with keeping their footing, or their dinners.

Their assignment into Kirkwall had drawn to a close, and for most, returning to Amaranthine was eagerly welcomed. However, for Carver, it was rather bittersweet. Returning to the Free Marches had coincidentally reunited him with his older brother, an almost pleasant part awkward exchange between the Hawkes who were both caught up in their own burdens. Although he did take pleasure in the fact that he was sworn to secrecy and his brother could not know the details of his mission. Carver remembered that moment of pride he felt then, finally getting the upper hand against Garrett.

But then his brother asked for his help, and Carver hadn't been quite right since.

Since taking ship, the deputy Warden had stowed away in his cabin to avoid being bothered. He hadn't eaten in a couple days and sleep was near impossible with Carver's mind consumed in deep thought. He didn't think learning more about their father would bother him this much, but it did, and continued to be a torment throughout the rest of his stay in Kirkwall.

"Knock, knock."

Carver had been stretched back on his bunk, just long enough to accumulate his height and broad enough to lay on his back. Armor off and tucked away, he'd been lounging around in his cobalt Warden robes since the first night. He sat-up quickly at the voice, blood rushing to his temples. Just how long had he been laying there? The sudden motion made him queasy.

"Myrah!" he answered in surprise, still seeing double of her in the doorway.

Fellow Warden and previously a mage of the Circle Tower, Myrah had been recruited under dire circumstances that would otherwise have had her made tranquil. She survived the betrayal at Osagar and lived to fight through the Blight, eventually helping the Commander to rebuild the wardens. Besides the always shem-hating Velanna, Myrah was also one of the few elves in the Wardens.

"Carver," she exclaimed back, almost mockingly, but always with a bright smile. "Are you going to join us for dinner tonight?"

The young Hawke scooted to the edge of the bunk, boots hitting the wooden floor with a thud, although with the pounding rain you could barely hear a thing. Shouting and merriment could be heard faintly from beyond the cabins, to where Nathaniel and the others conversed in the galley. Carver gave the doorway one long sulking glance before staring at his feet, shaking his head, but just barely.

Myrah stepped into the cabin and closed the door behind her, muting the distant conversations. "You haven't been eating," she observed, padding barefooted towards the bed. Carver hardly felt the mattress sink as the elf tucked herself beside him, turning so that their knees touched and Myrah was watching him, "You haven't been sleeping either."

Carver blushed feverishly as the mage bullied him to face her, warm hands on either side of his face, squeezing his cheeks so he was making a very awkward kissy-face. Her slender fingers grew warmer still and eyes brighter as she concentrated on him. He began to feel it then, the tingle of her magic spilling over him, crawling through his skin. Myrah did this regularly to her companions, tongue sticking out in concentration as she tried to neutralize any illness or heal any wounds her magic touched. When she was done, the elf's hands sunk into her lap and a worried frown graced her features.

For a moment, Carver noticed how cute her quirks were.

"I know it's none of my business, but if this is about seeing your brother-" Myrah trailed off, unsure how to tread the topic of Garrett Hawke with her companion. She nervously played with her hair, tucking it behind her ear as she glanced back at Carver.

He was staring at the stains on his boots. It wasn't about his brother, for once, but he had never mentioned his father before. Never had a reason to be upset with him. Carver had only ever placed his father on a pedestal. Was he really going to let something that wasn't even his father's fault cause so much turmoil?

"It's not my brother," Carver finally breathed and turned to Myrah, whose wide eyes watched worriedly, "I found out my father was forced to use blood magic...by Grey Wardens." He stood and shadowed over her, carefully treading the small cabin back and fourth. "I'm a Grey Warden Myrah!" Carver shouted, sounding rather guilty suddenly.

"Carver," she plead with him, watching as the Warden frantically paced, floorboards creaking with each step. Myrah sighed and sprung to her feet, "Carver!" The Warden stopped in his tracks at her tugging, stiffening as she held him still by his sleeve. Standing on her toes, Myrah touched Carver's cheek and smiled, a crooked smile that he stared at longer than usual. "You are a Grey Warden now, but you will never be so tainted to think forcing a mage to blood magic is the right way- the Commander would never stand for that. So don't make it worse by thinking you've made the wrong decision Carver," she rubbed the scruff on his chin with her thumb, "Those who did that to your father, they're not Wardens, they do not stand for what we are."

"I wasn't chosen to become a Warden," Carver argued, "it was just a convenient way to cheat death."

Myrah shook her head and whispered, "You're wrong." Her smile brightened, "The Commander may not have chosen you Ser Carver, but fate did, and one day you will prove to yourself that you are worthy of being a Grey Warden." Carver could feel his face warming again, his sudden tantrum an embarrassment. "Besides," Myrah smirked as she flicked her finger underneath his chin, "I can't imagine the Grey Wardens without such a handsome gentleman."

Carver found himself leaning towards her for a not so chivalrous gesture just as the ship rocked violently, hurling him into the door and Myrah into him. Subconsciously, the Warden had wrapped himself over her, shielding the mage as various objects tossed around in the cabin. In response, she clung to him, fingers curled into his robes and head hidden into his shoulder. Lightning flashed through the cracks of the doorway and thunder rattled the ship's loose boards, but they wouldn't be sinking anytime soon.

Myrah peeked up from the sanctuary of his chest to see Carver was towering over her, one firm hand on the door and the other snaked securely around her waist. She felt her robes catch on the door as the young Hawke took a single step closer, pushing her softly into the door. Carver's face colored as Myrah's ample bust pressed wonderfully into his chest, sending a flutter of butterflies to his stomach and a rush to other parts than his reddening cheeks. "I- I'm sorry," the Warden worried, as the heat of her body flush to his became overwhelming and he began to untangle himself from her.

However, his fellow Warden had other plans.

The elf yanked and stretched Carver's collar as she brought him down a size, planting her bold beautiful lips over his mouth, smothering what would have been a gasp in surprise. Blindsided, the warden followed through the motions as Myrah then reversed the roles, throwing Carver into the splintering door and continuing to push her lovely bosoms against him. He could only stand there, unsure whether to beg for mercy or kiss her back. At last she parted her lush lips from his, breathing heavily against his chin with a toothy smirk. "I'm not sorry?" Carver hastily quipped, unsure and bewitched by Myrah's promising smug smile.

"Tell me Carver," she spoke with a sultry air, keeping him placed against the door. "Just how far did you and Merrill go?"