"Any warning shots?"

"No boss, no arrows. The forests are still empty."

"Shit. Another month without profit is my guess. Wonderful," said Conan. "Back to the city. If they were there, Reynan would've stopped our progress by now."

"Don't you have requests for grain shipments to neighboring towns?"

"Yes, but at best, that'll cover my costs to pay you and the men, and not much else. Don't worry about it, I'll figure something out, little man. I always do, don't I?"

The Dwarf laughed off the comment, only scratching his red beard as he watched the stars. "You know... I'm still getting letters from my cousin, asking if I can get you two in touch. You know what about..."

Conan shot him a warning glance from the corner of his sockets.

"Ack!" yelled the dwarf. "Don't you be lookin at me like that with those cursed eyes of yours! They're right creepy at night, you know. Give those things back to the poor wolf you stole 'em from."

Conan chuckled and said, "My mother thinks my blue eyes are beautiful. I think you're just jealous that you're cockeyed from drinking too much hard liquor. I warned you about that. Just like I warned you about bringing up your criminal friends."

"Boss, we're already smuggling for the Dalish! And your family's lyrium... chantry lyrium no less!"

"I've gotta make a living on my own somehow," Conan said defensively. Though only in his twisted mind did stealing rather than asking for something mean he was making a living on his own. Sighing, he said, "I'm just not ready to sink that low yet, can't you understand that? We're hurting, but other businesses are fairing far worse. I'm not ready to be the reason why those thugs from Orzammar have gained a foothold in our city."

"Fine. Fine," sighing, the dwarf said, "I guess I'll see you back at the estate tomorrow, then."

"That you will. Goodnight, friend."

The dwarf grumbled and waved dismissively before walking ahead. Conan knew he was right, despite his reservations. If he wanted to keep some sort of business without having to slink back to his father, he'd have to think of something.

As Conan past through the city gates, he started thinking aloud as he watched the stars. "Perhaps if I took enough lyrium... worked with the Carta... maybe I could get enough coin to relocate. Not have to rely on Lyrium. Become a legitimate shipping business somewhere near Ferelden. They could certainly use the help. Maybe..."

"Hello, Trevy!"

Oh Maker... "Hello, Gabrielle." He tried his best to sound enthusiastic. The woman in question was a blonde headed young girl from Orlais. Ever since her family made their way to their humble city, his parents have been trying to push her on him. Something she was only too happy to promote.

"What are you doing out at this time of night all alone, Trevelyan?"

Sighing, and ignoring her suggestive eyes, he said, "I'm out on business. Like every night you see me returning from outside the city."

"That sounds suspicious, Conan. What kind of business would a man need to conduct at this time of night?"

"Like I told the guards who asked the same question on my way in, none of your business," said Conan, with a smirk. She returned it and stuck her tongue at him.

"Why are you so mean to me, hmm? Come on, I just want to get to know you better. Is that so wrong?" Gabrielle took his hand in hers, her little pale delicate digits almost the exact opposite of his. They were large enough to swallow up hers entirely, and rough, calloused... not at all what one would expect of a noble's son, but a working man.

Conan resisted her advances normally, not liking anything to be forced on him, but he felt something stir at her touch... "It has been a while..." he said, not caring to be subtle in his meaning.

"Hasn't it though?" she said, giggling while biting her lower lip.

Just as Conan's lips curved into a smile and Gabrielle thought she'd sealed the deal, Conan pulled his hand away and walked right past her in the direction of an alley. Cheeks reddened from her embarrassment, she turned to see what he was looking at and couldn't believe that he'd cast her aside completely at the sight of another woman!

She hadn't seen what he'd seen however, and it wasn't the sight of another woman that made him oblivious to her tantrum behind his back as she stormed off.

"Hey! You! You shouldn't be doing that here!" said Conan, blue eyes filled with the flame of a trash fire. Flames that this robed woman sparked herself with her own hands. When she heard Conan's deep voice filling her ears in the alley, she turned... and Conan stopped in his tracks.

Her eyes... it was as if she'd captured the flames she conjured up herself within them. In the night, they shined just as bright, and seemed to be dancing with life as they settled on him. Her hair was as dark as any raven's. Her skin a delightfully light hazelnut brown that he was unused to seeing... And... her ears...

"You're an elf!" he said, smiling as he proclaimed it to be. She didn't take the proclamation very well.

"And? What of it? You stay back..."

"I was just trying to say you should be more careful. If someone were to see an elf woman conjuring fires, you might end up with a blade in you."

"Is that a threat?" she asked, brows knitted as her hands pointed to him. "I said stay back!" Before Conan had a chance to explain, a fireball brought the heat of the sun to what was once a cool night. Conan's eyes widened, but before his fair skin was seared, his instincts and training kicked in, smacking his shield through the assault and setting everything around him ablaze.

"Wait, come back!" he yelled, chasing after the woman as she fled. "Are you insane? I was just trying to warn..." Maybe he should just let her go, he thought. He'd only attract more trouble if she kept acting this way. But she was obviously in need of food and a place to stay if she was out here all alone by a trashfire for warmth.

She was nimble and quick, something that came natural for elves, but Conan was athletic himself, and his long strong legs possessed a quickness that soon had him at her back. A fact that wasn't lost on her as she sent another fireball her way.

Suddenly, she stopped and faced her pursuer, hands raised. Conan stopped as well, his blade still at his belt. "Listen..." he said, but before he could go on, a wall of flame sent a spike of warmth at his back, causing him to turn in panic. He was trapped.

Looking confused, he turned back to the young woman who said, "I'm sorry," as more flames rose from her hands for the final assault.

"Me too," said Conan, finally drawing his blade.

As he prepared to defend himself and wait for the inevitable heatwave... he couldn't help but notice the lack of flames at his back. And his front for that matter. He dared to lower his shield for but a moment, and saw that she seemed as confused as he did.

"That's enough, elf," said a voice from behind him where the flames had once been. "Do not worry, citizen. Her heathen magic has attracted the attention of a Templar. You are safe."

In a rage after she realized what had happened, she attempted to charge the both of them with nothing but her hands. "I said that's enough!" Yelled the Templar as his sword point hit the ground. Immediately, the elf was sent to her back from the anti-magical shockwave. She was finally still, and appeared to be lifeless.

"What are you doing!" yelled Conan.

"Saving your life," said the man as he took off his helmet. Shaking his matted black hair, he dropped his helmet and approached the woman as she laid.

"That was unnecessary, Templar, she was already without her magic! You killed her!"

"That's the idea, citizen. We are at war. This is the enemy."

"THAT's your enemy?" he scoffed. "Scared magelings?"

The man turned to him, eyes squinted. "I think I've seen you before. Aren't you a Trevelyan? You should know better than to underestimate these apostates. And anyway, she's not dead. Yet." The Templar slowly drew his blade, smiling down on the girl as she watched it rise above her head. "It's too bad. You are so beautiful. Such a wa-,"

The Templar suddenly lost his ability to speak, as Conan's blade suddenly grew from his throat at the back of his neck. It was gone just as quickly as it appeared, but only to remove his head entirely before hanging from Conan's grasp. Casting it aside, Conan stood over the woman now, lifting her in his arms before the man's blood pooled around her.

"You're coming with me, foolish woman," he said. She didn't answer, only watched in confusion as the large man carried her away.

She caught him glancing at her and said weakly, "You must be so proud of yourself, Mr. Hero man."

"Ha, you think I'm a hero?"

"Must be to be so foolish. If you'd just kept your loud mouth shut..."

Conan's cheeks turned red suddenly. "...Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn't run away... I guess," he said. "I was just... excited, I guess. I don't know. But you didn't have to throw fireballs at me."

"I couldn't let you go telling the guards about the elven apostate you saw. So I lured you in. You're not very smart, I gather. You think you're saving me, but that dead Templar's going to make things worse for me and the rest of the mages in the city."

"How many mages exactly are there?" Conan asked. She looked away from him, clearly not intent on answering. "Well, no matter. I'll send my men to get rid of the fire scorches and take his sword. All anyone will find is a Templar beheaded and his blade missing. They'll assume it was a thief."

"Your men?"

He looked at her again and smiled. "Aye, my men. I've got a small business going. I'm taking you to it now. You can stay there a while. You're not in any shape to stay out here alone. Go to sleep, I'll take care of you."

The last thing she wanted to do was sleep in the arms of some human, but with her head pressed against his chest, the sound of his deep voice rumbling in it at her ears... she couldn't help but feel more safe than she had in a long time. Sleep came after that whether she wanted it to or not.

The woman was out for days now, sleeping the entire time and snoring loud enough to call a blight to her. But this was a good thing, as she was obviously still breathing.

Conan still felt guilty that he helped cause this, but she'd used magic so openly that he was practically in shock. If he hadn't spoken up, someone out of earshot surely could have easily seen what she was doing. It was a chilly night, so she must have been in a hurry for warmth. He slipped and accidentally caught a peak at her under her robes when he was putting her to bed, filthy feet and all. The robe was all she had.

Watching her now, he wondered when she'd wake up, if ever. That power the Templar used, he knew it must've taken a lot out of her. The only response he'd gotten from her was when he tried feeding her soup. She still remained asleep, but her body took in the nourishment despite her.

Washing her brow and patting at her sweaty head, he smiled. Secretly proud of himself, even if he didn't expect her to be very grateful.

Leaving the cloth on her brow, he left her in his room as he prepared to eat his own dinner. Which he always did by washing up first. He had his men prepare his wooden tub for him, complete with rose pedals that the nobles had grown accustomed to using when bathing.

He sat there contemplating for who knows how long, watching the rose pedals float around the wooden rim. He couldn't help but think of himself then. A man afloat, as if free, but still being confined to this city, to this life planned for him, even as a grown man. The life of a Templar, which should have been his a long time ago, if not for his mother's protesting and this business. With his eldest brother being groomed for running his father's estate and shipping company, his only option was to keep his own going. Otherwise he'd be without his own money, and Templar recruitment would be inevitable. Even if he was much older than what they normally took, his father made sure he kept up with the training that was appropriate for him through childhood.

But, that was a distant concern, at least for now. Now, he'd have to think about what to do with this girl... feeling his skin begin to wrinkle from the water, Conan stood to dry and dress himself when he realized he had an audience.

Standing as though she'd been caught using magic once more, the elven woman stood frozen, then hid behind the doorway, only to sneak another peek. "Oh, I'm sorry! I was just looking for... well, you, actually..."

"Well... you found me," he said, smirking as he covered his waist with a large woolen sheet. There were stray rose pedals stuck to his body and caught in his chest hair, and water was still dripping from him as he spoke. "I'll have Grom the dwarf prepare your own bath. Is that okay?"

"Yes, that would be great," she said. "That's actually what I was going to ask about. Do you have any clothes?"

Conan raised a brow and said, "I... I'll take care of it," he said.

By the time he got back, the elven woman was asleep in his room once more, wrapped up in his sheets and he assumed still without clothing. He left the clothes he brought her at the foot of the bed, leaving her to her slumber. He was hoping to be able to sleep in his own bed once more, but for now, the elven girl had taken it over.

Sitting at his small table alone, Conan sighed to himself, not looking forward to another night in the bunks with the men, but at least grateful that he had something good to eat.

"Oh, are we having steak?" said a voice from behind. Conan turned to see the elven woman peek out from his room.

"Uh, aye," he said, obviously not having prepared for both their dinner.

"There's only one chair. I should stand then," she said sarcastically. Conan scooted so he could stand and let the girl eat, but before he could, she sat in his lap at the table.

"Where'd you get the clothes?" she asked, pointing to the velvet gown she now wore.

"Umm, from a friend," he answered, thinking back to Gabrielle. Needless to say, she wasn't very happy to see him, especially when he came asking to borrow her clothes... "They fit you rather well."

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him. "I was told that you fed me while I was out. Whose room is that?"

"It's mine," he said. "And yes, I fed you. You manage to eat a lot of food without being awake."

Laughing, she said, "I've been without it for a few days. That Templar you killed, he didn't just happen upon me you know. He was following me. I was just so cold. I had to make a fire. I didn't think anyone was outside that late. What were you doing out that late anyway?"

Conan hesitated at first, but given that she was an apostate who witnessed him killing a templar for her, he figured she wouldn't rat him out. "I was trying to do business. With the Dalish. But my usual contact wasn't around. Lyrium dealing, amongst other things. It's not all mine, technically."

Her eyebrows raised, and she said, "And with that going on, you put the murder of a Templar on your table as well? Why?"

Conan smirked and said, "Well, when you put it that way, I guess it was rather stupid. But I wasn't just going to let him kill you. Even if you did chuck fireballs at me. And ruined my shield."

Smiling, she said, "Most men would have considered that reason enough to let me die."

"Father always said I was a strange one," he said.

"He's right," she said, staring intensely at him with those fire colored eyes of hers. She was enamored by the intensity of his as well. His blue filled with the chill she felt down her spine when he killed that man so readily. He knew nothing about her, only that she tried to kill him. And yet he still...

"Aren't you going to eat my... your... steak?" he said, trying to break the strange silence. They'd been looking at one another for a time, but he wasn't sure how long. Maybe not long at all.

"We can share it," she said, smiling again. She tore off a piece of meat from the plate and placed it at his lips. She purposefully kept it tight between her fingers so that he'd have to suck at them for it. She laughed when her hand brushed against his beard, then tickled his cheek as he ate. "I've never touched one of these before."

"Heh, not too many bearded men where you're from, I gather."

"Not in alienages, no. Not unless humans come around for... one reason or another," she said, trailing off.

Losing his smirk at the implication, he said, "I've heard about that sort of thing. I've never been to alienages myself. Is it really all that bad?"

"Why do you think I'm out here?" she asked. Before he could answer, she said, "It's my turn. I'm rather tired of soup."

"Right, of course," said Conan, tearing off more than just a bite. She eagerly bit at the juicy morsel, holding his hand there until she was done, then even when she was finished, so that she could lick the juices from his finger. By now it was very obvious where this was going, for them both.

He'd forgotten all about being hungry then, and he continued to feed her by hand, simply enjoying the way her lips folded, and the way she looked when she closed her eyes to savor the taste. When the food was gone, she was still feeling mouthy apparently, as she grabbed Conan by his hairy chin and let him taste the wine he gave her along with the meal directly from her mouth.

She leaned forward so that she was above him, and pulled his head back by his hair, letting the red liquid once again enter his mouth by letting it cascade from hers. It was messy and fell in his beard, but she enjoyed the feel of his wet hair against her skin as their tongues flickered at one another.

Pulling back a moment, her arms still wrapped around his head, he said, "You don't have to do this."

"Shut up and let me thank you, hero man," was her reply, slapping him across his bearded face before tugging at his hair again.

She yelped in surprise as Conan lifted her, still kissing as he brought her to his room. He dropped her on his bed, and they both fidgeted with her skirt's fanciful buttons until he finally just ripped it all away at once. He'd have to borrow more clothes from Gabrielle, but that was an issue for later.

With his pants gone, she stood and pushed him to his back, shirt still over his head as she grasped his throbbing head in her hands. They both worked his shaft as the petite thing playfully bounced on her knees. Her small hazelnut brown hands contrasted wonderfully with his fair skin, as it also did when his head was being rubbed at her loosened nub. He quickly threw his shirt aside, eager to watch as the little fiery thing sank herself on him.

It was slow goings, and her slickness falling over him and the tiny wet noises it made was joyous agony. When she finally engulfed him fully, she groaned victoriously over him, scratching at his chest as she slammed herself on him again and again and again, each time budding deep within as she rode him like the steed that was adorned on his family shield's code of arms before she burned it.

She had such a hold of him inside her that every movement on him was filled with sweet thick friction. His rough hand went around her neck suddenly, and hers did the same. Before she knew it, she was at her back again, startled by the strength he displayed, and even more startled by the feeling of his lips and beard trailing down her smooth skin between her bosom. Suddenly, she was being tortured with the tickles of his beard between her legs as they locked around his big head, contracting as her wet center did from the feeling of his tongue wriggling hungrily within her.

She yanked and pulled at his hair, but no matter how hard she did, he did not relent, until she gave herself up completely to him. Legs weak now, she could only watch with a smirk on her face as he climbed atop her. She fought well to be dominant. The scratches at his pecks attested to that. But he'd subdued her thoroughly with his lips, and she sighed heavily at the feel of him sinking past hers once more. Her legs reached for the sky, fully accepting him again as he fought to reach his peak. Her voice trembled with every thrust, and her hands clawed at his back to make him thrust harder. His scream almost deafened her, but it was worth it.

Finally, he closed his eyes as the pressure within him built up so intensely, that all he could concentrate on was the feeling of draining everything inside her at once. It had been some time since he'd last done this, and never before had it been with an elf. The exotic nature of it, the feeling of himself throbbing inside her delicate frame beneath him; it all served to make him come so hard, he'd have sworn it was his first time all over again.

All the time he'd spent feeding her, watching her sleep, he felt something stir within him. An intense desire so strong that he hadn't trusted himself to stay in the room with her for long. All the thoughts going through his mind now realized... "By the Makeeer!" He yelled, still grunting and thrusting at her as her little hands gripped at his clenched firm ass.

She marveled at the violent ripples of muscle at his gut and on his shoulders as he fucked her, and when he fell to his back, her head traveled with them, kissing and licking at his belly and working her way up his chest. As she was kissing his neck, his large arms wrapped around her and gripped her tight. As she trickled out over his leg, he could feel her core burning like a furnace for him and knew that they'd be doing this again. As did she.

"By the way, what do they call you, hero man? So I can know whose name to call next time."

"Conan. Conan Trevelyan," he said, still breathing heavily with her raven colored hair sprawled over his chest. Her small feet rubbed at his skin before finally resting on his much larger ones, wriggling her toes against his until he caught on that he was to do the same. Grinning at her playful nature and how cozy he felt with her on top of him, he said, "And you?"

"Elene. You can call me Elene."