Giving Desire her Due

Part One: Demon's Mark

Chapter One: In for a Silver

Before her eyes had even opened, Vhaaja could feel Desire purring in the recesses of her mind. It could only mean she had fed well the night before. Experimentally Vhaaja reached back, her hand meeting with the hard plane of a man's stomach. From the memories she was starting to recall, he was a delicious looking specimen. At the touch he mumbled something unintelligible, his breath tickling her ear. The sensation brought a soft smile to her lips.

-What did we do last night?- Vhaaja asked silently, directing the thought at the presence at the back of her mind.

The entity coiled there was all too willing to share, images of a handsome, dark-haired man between their thighs at the forefront of the onslaught. The details Vhaaja recalled were at the same time vivid and surreal, taking on a dream like quality. It was a side effect of having Desire so close to the surface. When Desire fed it was difficult to determine where the demon ended and Vhaaja began. She never let Desire have complete control, that would be lunacy. Whatever their partnership, the entity that shared Vhaaja's mind was still a demon and wasn't to be trusted. She fully expected that if given half the chance Desire would wrest control.

Yet to the demon's credit she'd never tried very hard, Vhaaja thought.

-You forget I've felt the Templar's cold steel sink into borrowed flesh more times then you've digits to count by. It is never pleasant,- Desire yawned, in answer to the thought. Vhaaja envisioned her stretching out like a feline after a nap. To Vhaaja her voice was clear as crystal even though she didn't really exist on the mortal plane. Desire was anchored to her through the Fade. The strength of their connection seemed to depend on how long it had been since Desire had fed. There was power in all things mortals delighted in, those of the carnal persuasion not the least of them.

To many, it would at the very least be uncomfortable to share their mind with another. But Vhaaja hadn't ever been normal to begin with. Since childhood, she'd been able to see into that place between the waking world and the realm of dreams from time to time. She had grown up knowing that sometimes monsters really could lurk in the shadows. Most of them couldn't care less about, or even perceive, the physical plane. Of those that did, few had the power it took to punch through. Filtering out those glimpses into the in-between was yet another service Desire provided.

"Damnation," she sighed softly, remembering that she wasn't in this man's tent for the sake of pleasure alone. Vhaaja had been caught by an ill-tempered Templar near Denerim not long before, all thanks to a sweet talking mage. She forced herself not to dwell on how she'd foolishly given him her trust and with it the protection amulet that had once belong to her shaman. It wasn't as if he needed it anymore, the Templars had made sure of that. Yet if she ever chanced upon the mage again, Vhaaja felt she owed him a punch to the throat.

-I blame you, of course, getting suckered in by a pretty face. One sob story about being locked in a tower and you felt sorry for the knicker-weasel. I warned you not to trust him,- Came the melodic tone in her ear.

Fortunately her gods, those of the Chasind, had smiled upon her. Vhaaja was in the Templar's custody only a few hours before she was rescued from his tender mercies; by an agent of Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir no less. Even deep in the Wilds, folk told tales of the quick-witted general who'd thrown out the chevaliers, king Maric the Savior and Rowan his fierce warrior queen. The Orlesians had been as much friend to the Wilders as they had to the Ferelden people. Even less so, as it was during the Occupation that many of her people's shamans were lost to the Chantry's Knights. And because of that the shamans had started using bow-mages in greater numbers as a means to protect themselves.

To say the Teyrn was disappointed Vhaaja hadn't a drop of magic to her name that didn't originate from her bow was an understatement. He had been looking a mage. For what purpose, Vhaaja wouldn't learn until much later. At the time she was much too concerned about her own hide to care about whatever game was afoot. She had been expecting to end up back in the Chantry's grasp when it was apparent she was of no use. Instead he found another task for a quick footed Wilder.

The Chasind were renowned for their ability to follow their prey, that was how she had found herself tasked with tracking the Grey Warden Duncan, the head of his Order in Ferelden. If she was caught, the Teyrn could plausibly deny ever having hired her. None would believe a Chasind over a the Hero of the River Dane, not even another Wilder. If she was killed, well she wasn't one of his men and no one would miss her. Vhaaja couldn't help but admire his candid pragmatism.

In return for regular updates, she would get a large sum of coin. As an added bonus he had promised to provide Vhaaja with something to help alleviate some of her Templar problems. Hopefully it would be something more substantial than papers that said she wasn't a Wilder witch, marked with the Mac Tir device for authenticity. Templars could always tell there was something off about her, and 'Wilder witch' was always the assumption they jumped to. No sheet of parchment was going to solve that. Yet refusing the offer had never crossed her mind, Teryn Loghain was not a man one said 'thanks, but no thanks' to.

Vhaaja liked her head on her shoulders, thank you very much.

A hand appeared across her midsection. She moaned softly as he pulled his hand up her slender frame. Vhaaja slowly rolled on her back. Her impish grin was met by unrestrained lust in his dark-eyed gaze. Nimble fingers grasped her breast before he lowered his mouth to it. The sensation of his tongue encircling her erect nipple sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. The low growl in the back of her throat encouraged him to slip his fingers between her thighs. Warm tendrils of pleasure radiated from her core as he massaged the bud he found nestled within her tender petals. Reflexively she bucked against his hand and he increased the speed. Her breath hitched as his fingers entered her. Slick with her juices, he removed them and returned his attention back to her sexual center.

It was a pity she couldn't recall a name to go with the scrumptious looking man, that he was a Warden recruit was the most she remembered.

-Daveth- Desire chimed in. Vhaaja was glad that one of them paid attention to details like that. The demon made no effort to hide that she liked this. Vhaaja didn't object either, by the lack of light filtering through the tent it wasn't dawn yet. Besides she already knew where Duncan was headed.

Highever.

oOo

"See Ser Gilmore, when you lift the door and shift it slightly the door comes open. Maybe its something with the lock?" Said a lanky light-haired boy. He then demonstrated on the cell in question. Sure enough it came open. It was times like this he regretted being so damn approachable. If something needed to be done, it was Ser Gilmore they looked for. Maybe he should try scowling more. "Figured it was something that someone should, uh, know about."

"No no, I'm glad you brought it to my attention," Roland said pulling a hand through his hair. He recognized the lad from the kitchens, one of Nan's helpers. One of the less intelligent ones at that. The real question, of course, was how the boy had come in to such information. After a moment Roland decided to give the boy a pass, since it might have just saved them all from the fun an escaped prisoner could provide. "We'll get a locksmith to come in and have a look on the morrow."

"Yes ser," the boy said, zipping back up to the castle proper. He followed behind at a slower pace, he genuinely couldn't wait for the day to be over with. A visit from Arl Rendon Howe, while pleasant for his lordship, was an exhausting exercise for most everyone else. Never mind the Teyrna's guests. Add on top of that a majority of Castle Highever's forces were making ready to travel to Ostagar soon. Soon being whenever Arl Howe's forces decided to arrived. There were darkspawn to fight, it wasn't the time to take a leisurely stroll.

He scolded himself mentally. Roland supposed he was a bit bitter still over being chosen to remain at the castle. Really, he should be honored that the Teyrn appraised his skills so highly as to leave his most treasured possessions in his care. Though he dared any man to tell Elissa Cousland she belonged to anyone but herself. He'd come back with a falsetto.

"So this is what has become of the dreaded Hornet of Highever?" he called, catching sight of a face he readily recognized. She turned to face him, a smile sweeping across her face. Despite being the same height as many a man, Helena was still womanly in appearance. Her long, ebony hair trailed down her back, woven into a quick braid. He had to admit, it was awkward seeing her in a skirt.

"Rory!" she called with a wave, moving towards him with a waddle. "Or do I have to call you Ser Gilmore now?"

"Of course not, we've trained together since…"

"You were a snot nosed bairn crying over your daddy leaving you on our doorstep? I remember that well enough," she let out hearty peal of laughter.

Roland cleared his throat at that and responded, "Ser Gilmore's just fine then."

She lifted a finely arched dark eyebrow at that. "How I've missed you all."

"Married life seems to be agreeing with you though. Are you ready?" His eyes dropped to her extended stomach for a moment. It was still hard to believe she's been married for nearly a year now. He remembered keenly how she used to best many of her peers with sword and shield. Himself included. There was no shame in being trounced by a woman, when that woman was Helena at least. She'd fought with speed and precision, stinging her enemy with her blade then dancing out of her opponent's reach. That, accompanied with her relentless nature, was how she had earned the nickname 'Hornet'. He'd never imagined her doing something so domestic as living happily ever after.

"Don't have much of a say in the matter at this point," she chuckled in response. "Though it'll be harder now that my husband's run off to stop the blight single-handedly."

"Your husband is really leaving with the Grey Warden then? And you let him? Lucky oaf,"

"Remember that's my Jory you're calling an oaf, Ser Gilmore," Helena said, putting hands at her back, "Besides, what was I suppose to do? Forbid it?"

"You could have pointed out that isn't a melon you're smuggling under there," Roland answered with a smirk.

"That would have been unfair of me. The Wardens need able men to fight the darkspawn. I'd be down there hacking their vile heads from their twisted bodies if I could. But that's not my lot it seems. Can't say I'm not a little bitter over it. Figures that the tournament I was unable to participate in would be the one the Wardens were watching for recruits,"

"He had the benefit of having you as a sparring partner at any rate. I hear he won out over Ser Pelgwyn with a move out of your playbook. Not that I could attend myself, I had other duties," he said with a heartfelt sigh. "Guess we both just have poor luck."

"Maker has a plan for us all, at least it's what Mother Mallol always says," the woman replied with her own sigh. it was then that Eleanor Cousland came around the corner. She was in search of something, or someone. When she spotted Roland, she nodded to herself. Helena caught the significance of the gesture as well.

"Oh, she seems to be looking for you," Helena said, her tone a warning.

"Ah, Ser Gilmore. I've a favor to ask you," Eleanor said coming upon the pair of them briskly.

"Of course my Ladyship," He responded with a slight bow of his head.

"My daughter's dog is harassing Nan again, and I've guests. Guests that would like to eat at a decent time I'd venture to guess. Do you think you could find her, get her to collect the Beast?"

"Right away my Ladyship." He gave her another respectful nod.

"Helena, so good to see you. I'd stay and chat but…" she made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

"Your guests, its good to see you too Teyrna," She lowered her head and dipped into a slight curtsy until Eleanor was out of earshot. Then with a laugh she regarded Roland, "Sending you after the Spitfire, the object of your undying affections."

Helena had once told him that she thought that 'spitfire' a diplomatic term for a quick-tempered, difficult young woman who enjoyed getting her way. One would think with that description, Elissa Cousland would have a better time of it at court. As it were, rumor would have it that the Teyrna was having a difficult time securing a match. Not that Roland paid much head to gossip.

He turned to her with a level gaze, eyes narrowed. Hopefully that would counter act the burn he was starting to feel at his cheeks. Being as fair as he was it was hard to hide a blush. Another peal and he knew he'd been unsuccessful. It was improper to even to fancy about. She was a Teyrn's daughter and he was the umteenth child of a minor lord in the Bannorn. That he was one of the legitimate ones he counted a small mercy.

"That's an exaggeration." he said clearing his throat with a cough. "I really should get going, it's always a pleasure Helena."

"I should get going myself, I rode up here with my neighbor. Thought they'd send the men out today. But I guess Howe's men have been delayed. It's like they are out picking daisies or something. She has wagon to save me the walk. I don't want to keep her waiting." she said softly, then wrapped an arm around him for a quick embraced before meandering off.

oOo

Vhaaja hated dogs, that was all she was going to say about the embarrassment of being caught.

She didn't struggle against the red-headed knight, his hands big enough to hold both her wrists in one. Where would she go if she escaped him? Killing him was always an option she supposed. She'd trained to tumble with Templars, one knight would be easy. But at this juncture she might be able to get out of a death sentence. They said Bryce Cousland was a fair man, it wasn't as if she was caught making off with the family jewels. Though, to be honest, she might have given it a go if his Lordship's eldest had been willing. She was here on a mission of national security damn it! Not that anyone would back her story, Teyrn Loghain had made it abundantly clear that she was on her own. She was expendable.

"Mmmm, I like it rough," Vhaaja said as she was shoved up against the cold stone of Castle Highever's dungeon. The red-headed knight snorted, choosing not to dignify her comment with a verbal response.

There was a chill in the air, in the distance she could hear water dripping steadily on the rock. The odor of rusty metal, unwashed bodies, and human excrement combined into a stench that clung oppressively to every breath. It was unpleasant, to say the least. It wasn't so much that she felt the walls would close in on her as it was the lack of freedom. A silent prayer left her lips, asking her gods to grant her the ability to hold her tongue. Being surround by stone walls made her anxious. Vhaaja had the unfortunate habit of running off at the mouth when she was nervous, which she found rarely helped her situation.

"Is this the part where you strip search me? I promise to misbehave," she smarted off as he patted his hands down her leathers in search of hidden weapons. In for a silver, in for a sovereign she figured. As the knight pull the two daggers she'd hidden in her boots, another pair of footsteps made their way down the stairwell.

"Almost got lucky," Ser 'not-amused' said as he nearly shoved her into the first cell he came to. He then put her into the next cell down. "Almost put you in the faulty cell. Can't have you telling all your thief friends about how you got away. Bad for the reputation."

"I am not a thief. I've been following the Grey Warden," Vhaaja hissed in response. Being accused of theft struck a special chord. Wilders were always being accused of taking things that weren't theirs.

"She's telling the truth, this one has been trailing me for some time. Quite impressively actually," his voice was rich, even and commanded attention even in soft tones. "Do you mind leaving me alone with her?"

"No, of course not Warden," He bowed his head like a good little knight. He gave her a last look, he was certainly amused now. It made Vhaaja want to put an arrow in his eye socket. She smiled sweetly as she thought about his gruesome death. "Just let someone know if you need it cleaned up after."

Before he left, the knight collected her effects and placed them in a barrel by the entrance. Vhaaja snorted, she didn't even warrant a chest it seemed. Duncan waited patiently. When the knight left, the Warden approached the cell. He was careful to stay out of arm's length. He examined her, pulling his gaze down from her head to her toe. Staying silent would have been the smart thing to do. It wasn't something she'd been accused of lately however.

"So you knew I was following you the whole time, eh? I knew I wouldn't do so hot within walls, but I guess I overestimated my skill set all together," she hung her arms through the bars and put her weight on her elbows casually. Vhaaja wondered if she looked as much like a cornered animal and she felt. All the possible questions he could ask ran through her mind. Loghain wasn't paying her to be silent, she'd pigeon out at the drop of a hat if it would get her out of the cell. The words that came were completely unexpected.

"I wouldn't say that. You just underestimated my ability at knowing when I'm being followed. I already have a fair notion as to who would put you up to such a thing." He bought a hand over his mouth in contemplation. "Have you ever considered becoming a Grey Warden? We could use a woman with your 'skill set' as it were."

Vhaaja stared. It was all she could manage as the shock of being asked such a ridiculous question. To kill darkspawn? That seemed a worthy goal. She'd almost felt like her old self these last few weeks. Since leaving the Wilds in disgrace, she'd been adrift. Lost in a world she hardly understood. She'd forced herself to be numb. The agony over having failed her shaman had been too great. She'd even lacked the decency to die with her bow-sisters. Tracking Duncan had given her a purpose, she'd felt useful. Would that feeling translate to a new goal? What better way to atone for her failure then to spend the rest of her life fighting off the creatures that defiled her home? They'd sprung from the Korcari Wilds after all.

As she opened her mouth to answer, screams of men bellowed from above. Vhaaja recognized the sounds of fighting. Were men dying above her head? Within moments she was alone. The Warden had barreled up the stairwell.

"Arl Howe's men are attacking!" Came shouts as he opened the door to the main castle. Her whole body shuddered. She took three steps and slid slowly down the back wall of her cell. She was trapped, and unarmed. The only thing she could realistically hope for was that they would kill her quickly.

-That is highly unlikely,- Desire sighed. Vhaaja could feel the demon already contemplating where she was going to find another host.

a/n: I wanted to thank who opened this fic, especially any Cheeky Monkeys. This is my 'epic yarn' that I've been writing for about two years in a composition notebook. The first few chapters are the 'Highever' arc, and sadly there is no Jowan (believe me, it's painful for me not to write him!) At the end of this arc we will get our first glimpse at our favorite maleficar. I hope you enjoy!