Disclaimer: Bioware owns all, except what I most humbly imagine. While, at times, I will take verbatim from the game, I mostly use the events of the Dragon Age games, expansions and universe as a loose structure around which to construct my re-imagined tale. If you are looking for a strict canon piece, I have no desire to offend, and so I warn you upfront!

When reading this tale, I hope you can easily imagine it being told by the very best of storytellers in Varric Tethras (from DA:2). In my version of events, Varric meets "The Hero" (Elissa Cousland) in Kirkwall during the time period of DA:2. I mention this only so that readers can understand his connection along the way, and so I don't have to mention and rehash it again and again as I make my way through the tale.

A/N: Thanks to those who have come along to Book Four in this series :) For any just joining, be prepared for a bumpy ride - and feel free to check out the first three books should you so desire.

Special thanks to Snarkoleptic for help with this Varric inspired title :D

Thanks to my readers, reviewers and followers - and to both of my wonderful betas artemiskat and Snarkoleptic for keeping up with me and keeping me on track through this whole crazy process.

Happy Reading!

-Frayed One


Chapter One: Hightown Hammering

Her skin tasted of salt; that sheen of sweat and sex that always covered both their bodies the further into their morning routine he drove them. He was vaguely aware there was something… wrong… with the way they were together. The way his fist tugged a little too hard at her hair, snapping her neck back far enough that he could sink his teeth slightly into the softest part of her throat. The way his fingers dug a little too hard into full swell of her breast, certain to leave bruises that would later be covered by armor and hidden away from the light of day.

There was no tenderness, no lovemaking, no time taken – there was nothing of the relationship he had imagined as a young man. There was violence in this passion that they shared - something that drove him forward no matter the reservations of his logical mind - an endless hunger, a void inside him that only she could fill.

She did not hold him back from these most damning of appetites; she encouraged and fed them with needs of her own. The quick hiss of breath when he pulled at her hair was not a condemnation. The moans that began low and soft but increased in volume and frequency as he shifted the hand from her breast down to settle on her hip – holding her in place as he sped the pace of his thrusts inside her – were nothing more than a list of reasons he should continue down this path they had chosen.

When she reached back and dug her nails into his hip hard enough to draw blood, it was like the snap of a whip against the side of a stallion. It urged him to press harder, to go faster, until he was slamming against her so vigorously that the audible snap of hip against pelvis left no doubt that they would both be marked afterward.

If there was any fear left in him that he'd misread her signals, that disappeared when she started to speak. There were admissions and requests and half screamed expressions of ecstasy. Every twisted decision he made was met with praise, with cries of pleasure tinged with the omnipresent hue of pain, with pleas not to stop, to go further, to do more. And she was not alone.

The things that fell from his lips when they lay together were as muddled as the turbulent emotions within him – muttered admissions of love and desire whispered to a lover mixed with the harsh, biting words of damnation spoken to a common brothel whore. There were times he couldn't believe they were coming from him, but the voice was his own, often hoarse and broken but unable to be denied. The reservations, that voice whispering in the back of his mind insisting they had to end this now before it went too far, all of that had fallen silent long ago – replaced by the overwhelming desires both to please and control the woman writhing against him.

She'd been forced to brace herself hard against the headboard or else risk being slammed against the sharp edges of the intricately carved wood when her partner lost himself in the things they could draw from one another. She called his name on the brink of another climax, and he requested that she do it again – leaning forward when she denied him and repeating the instructions in her ear as his fingers teased against her apex. A victorious smile curved his lips when she screamed it, feeling her arch against him as every cell in her body lit fire.

Certain he'd more than done his job as a lover, he allowed his own release, pouring into her with one last thrust, an explosion of lust driven sentiment said much louder than he'd intended – until it dissolved into hard kisses on soft skin.

"Ooh… I like that bit." The Rivani tapped her finger against the paper, winking at me as she sauntered over to take a seat at my private table. "Seems familiar to me though… like I've lived it somehow."

"Your life is undoubtedly worthy of something equally torrid, but this isn't about you." I cleared my throat and shifted the pages back inside the journal. Isabela was more observant than most would give her credit, far more observant than I would like at the moment. "I know I allow you all free reign to come and go as you please, but not sneaking up on me would be appreciated. Call it a professional courtesy, if nothing more."

"It's a professional courtesy that I don't steal from you or stab you in the back when you aren't looking," Isabela snickered, leaning forward to drum her fingers against the table and continuing to eye the now hidden pages suspiciously. "And whomever you've used as inspiration for that must be good if you're working this hard to keep me from figuring it out."

"It's fiction, Isabela. It's inspired by everyone and nothing." I plastered on my most convincing poker face and stowed the book away in my pack, resting it against my leg so I'd notice any attempt to access it.

"Mmmhmm." She was unconvinced, encouraged if anything. "You may as well tell me, Varric. You know I'll find out one way or another."

She would. It wasn't an unwarranted boast on her part. There was little Isabela could not discover given time and proper motivation, and my not telling her was all the motivation she was going to need. But I was determined to keep this concealed for as long as possible.


It had only taken a few days for the shine to wear off, allowing Nathaniel Howe to realize that having caught Elissa Cousland was just as likely to kill him as having been in pursuit of her – perhaps sooner as now he felt as though he was fighting simply to hold on after seeing others lose their grip. Any attempt to see progress in their relationship resulted in a caustic backlash. Any suggestion that he be included in her everyday personal routines was answered with an almost retaliatory pull back inside her shell.

When he'd suggested, after nearly two weeks of spending every night tangled up in the much smaller bed of his childhood room, that it might be more comfortable for them both if they moved into the master suite together – she'd responded with a cold silence that lasted for nearly two days. He'd backed away and given her the space he thought she needed, resolving himself to simply accept her nocturnal visits to his room, only to open his door and find all of his belongings had vanished leaving nothing but empty space.

There was a moment of panic when he was certain he'd pushed too far, when he was absolutely convinced that she'd reassigned him to the furthest reaches simply to keep up the barrier she'd built around her heart. But when he reached the door to her room, he stood watching in a mix of relief and surprise as she tucked away the last of his belongings into the space she had made for him.

They'd been living together ever since, months now of falling into a routine of sex and separation, and still Nathaniel felt no more a part of her world than he had when keeping his own quarters. It wasn't that she made him feel unwanted. It wasn't that she gave him any reason to worry that she desired anything beyond what he gave to her. It was more the things that she didn't say and do.

He could look around their suite and see that it still belonged to her; she simply allowed him to share it. Towers of dusty tomes lined the walls, spilling out of the overfilled bookshelves and creating a barrier between the desk and nearby window. Paperwork and letters covered the desk, scattered and messy, with bottles of alcohol in various states of full or empty hidden within it. Weapons and armor in various states of polish and repair, relics and artifacts, any number of objects she was working to identify for one reason or another – all of it belonging to Elissa, all of it marking the space for what it was. And there was the vault hidden in the back wall that they never spoke of, though Nathaniel knew it was there and had no doubt what she kept inside it.

He had woken up wanting her the same as always, and it had taken little effort on his part to have her responding in kind – but the moment he'd found his release, she was pushing off him and darting back behind the privacy screen to the wash basin to begin her morning ritual of washing away any evidence of what they'd done. It was painful and more than a little insulting, and he'd long since reached the end of his patience for it.

"It wouldn't kill you to wait more than two seconds post coitus to do that, Elissa." His tone was more harsh than he'd intended, but he found himself lacking for patience and still awash in the slightly anger tinged aftermath of their most recent tumble.

"To do what?" she snorted, popping her head out for a moment to glare at him through narrowed eyes. "I wash off every morning, and you'll be over here as soon as I'm done. What are you on about now?"

"What am I on about? Elissa, do you not see what you're doing?" Nathaniel was fully angry now, allowing himself to feel all the frustration that had been building as the weeks passed.

"I'm washing off and getting dressed. I have a meeting with Varel within the hour and another with Jowan soon after. Would you rather I went to sit with them smelling of sweat and sex and covered in the results of your orgasm?" Elissa was angry as well, he could feel it radiating out of her, to go forward was dangerous – but he'd lost the ability to reason where she was concerned some time ago.

"Would it kill you?"

"What is wrong with you?" She puffed out an irritated breath, stomping over to the armor stand and beginning to strap on her leathers. "You don't even want to talk about your private life and now you want me out parading about wearing a sign that says 'Nathaniel Howe just fucked me, ask how good it was'?"

"That! That right there is what's wrong with me, Elissa! I'm tired of feeling like your dirty little secret. I'm tired of being treated as though I'm here to keep your bed warm during your off hours and nothing else beyond that." Nathaniel's breath came in short, frustrated bursts, and he could feel himself shaking slightly as his temper continued to rise.

"If you are my dirty little secret, then you are the worst kept secret in Thedas. Neither of us is quiet, Nathaniel – and the whole of The Keep knows that you moved in with me months ago." Elissa was fighting to keep her own temper under control, clamping down on the conduit and trying to keep his fury from feeding into her own. "And you woke me up this morning with your hand between my thighs, not the other way around, so don't speak to me about feeling used and objectified."

She snapped through the last of her armor with furious fingers, turning her back on the frustrating man in her bed and securing her various weapons in the sheathes where they belonged.

"So you're just going to go on with your day without finding any sort of resolution to this issue?" He was out of the bed then, sliding on his pants and closing the distance between them. "You aren't even going to attempt to talk about it?"

"I don't see what there is to talk about. We've been down this road before, Nathaniel. You want things I can't give to you. I've known this would be an issue from the beginning." She turned to him slowly, hesitant to meet his eyes because she knew that the anger was losing way to the doubt and regret that always came after.

"I'm not asking for much, Elissa. I don't want you to change overnight. I don't want you to change much at all. I'm just asking for a little effort here – for some consideration given to the things that I might need." He reached out to touch her face, dropping his hand back down when she turned out of his reach.

"You wanted to move in, and I did as you asked. You wanted me to wear your ring again, and I am. You wanted me to make an effort to spend time with you outside of these walls, and I have done so as much as I can. I don't know what else you want from me, Nathaniel." She shook her head, pacing over to the window and tugging her fingers through the curls of her hair now grown past her shoulders.

"You know exactly what I want, Elissa. I have never been unclear about that."

"And you know that I can't give it to you."

"Can't or won't?" He watched her head snap in his direction, feeling the quick flare of temper before she quelled it back down behind the wall.

"There is no happy ending for us, Nathaniel. We don't ride off into the sunset together. We don't have the touching wedding ceremony and the two or three kids. That time is long out of our reach, and those people… those people were lost long ago." Her jaw tensed and then relaxed as she took in a breath to calm herself. "This is all there is, and if that's not enough for you then—"

"Then, what? You'll walk away? You'll shut me out because I refuse to believe this is all that we get in the end." He blocked her into the window frame, reaching over to take her hands though she fought against it. "We have come too far and made it through too much to find our way back here. I won't lose you to your need to be reclusive or my want for something more. I know that you love me, Elissa. I feel it… and you've given me no reason to doubt that to be true. I'm not asking for you to shout it from the ramparts, though that wouldn't kill you either. I'm simply suggesting that hearing it out loud every once in awhile, that feeling there is more to us than Commander and Lieutenant when we leave the confines of these rooms, isn't too much to ask."

"Nathaniel…"

"Just think about it. We can talk later." He leaned forward then, pressing a kiss to her forehead and releasing her to go about her day.


Nathaniel only saw Elissa in passing throughout the day. He had meetings and responsibilities of his own, and three new Dalish archers to train, and he knew better to press any harder against the boundaries she had constructed than he had that morning.

She didn't come to dinner, leaving him to wonder if she was actually considering what he had suggested or simply avoiding him so that she didn't have to think at all, but all of that was answered when he opened the door and found her packing for a trip.

"What's going on?"

"The Messenger received word from The Architect. We know where he'll be in a week or so. I've gathered a group to track him. There are things we need to speak of." She met his eyes only for a moment, before going back to what she'd been doing.

The things she and The Architect had to speak of were… numerous… and all of them were unsettling to Nathaniel. He'd watched her change both physically and emotionally the longer his new tonics worked in her system. The more she "trained" with the creature, the less of the girl he'd once known seemed to remain, and the harder he felt himself fighting to keep what little there was from vanishing with the rest.

"I assume I'm not included." He sat down on the corner of the bed, knowing the answer before the hard puff of air confirmed it.

"You are my second, Nathaniel. Taking you along when I leave for an unknown amount of time somewhat defeats the purpose of that." She tugged one pack closed in irritation, beginning to work on filling a second.

"That has nothing to do with this decision, Elissa. Don't belittle either one of our intelligence by pretending otherwise." He watched her pace away, tugging things off her desk and returning to shove them angrily into the nearly full second pack. "You don't want to talk—"

"You're right. I don't. It won't get us anywhere. It never does." She slammed the things she'd retrieved with a fist, before drawing in a long breath and looking up at him.

"And running away is the solution?" Nathaniel snorted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring back at her.

"I don't know what the solution is. I don't know that there is one."

"How long will you be gone?"

"As long as it takes to get what I need."

There was a span of time when neither said anything, both accepting the fact that for the first time since Nathaniel's near death experience, they would be separated by a great deal more than the emotional distance that seemed to plague them.

"Then at least come to bed so I can say my goodbyes before you disappear." He reached out for her, but she backed away.

"I'm meeting Stroud and the others downstairs as soon as I'm done here." She pulled the ties on the second pack closed, tossing it over one shoulder and reaching for the first.

"You're leaving in the middle of the night?" Nathaniel was hurt and angry, and finding it hard to control either of those emotions standing on the precipice of losing his fleeting grip on the one thing he had ever truly wanted.

"A ship leaves at dawn from Amaranthine. I am to be on it." Elissa tossed the other pack on her back as well, pausing at the door to look back one last time. "For what it's worth, I wish I could be what you wanted. But I can't, Nathaniel. She's… she's gone. I'm sorry."

The sound of the door closing behind her had a finality that left him cold inside and weakened his resolve to the point that he fell back against the bed and wondered where it had all gone wrong.