Chapter 1

"What do you mean you've never played marry, lie with, kill?"

Dorian stared at the group, an incredulous expression on his face. His drinking companions—Cullen, Blackwall, Bull, Varric, Krem, and Sera—shared glances, their expressions mirroring each other's confusion. This was what he got for moving to Ferelden.

Sera let out an atrocious sound that might be construed as a giggle. "Why are we killin' Mary?"

"No, not Mary, marry…" Dorian paused and took a deep breath. "It's a game. We play it all the time in Tevinter."

"Count me out, then," Bull said. "I'd like to keep my blood in my body, thanks."

"It doesn't involve blood magic. What do you Quinari think we do—play in each other's blood for fun?"

Bull shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah." He winced, then chuckled, as Krem elbowed him for this remark.

Dorian sighed. "Even us savage 'Vints' recognize how dangerous blood magic can be. It is not a recreational activity."

Varric waved his hand as if brushing away the thought. "Yeah, yeah, your people take their demon-hugging very seriously, we get it. But you mentioned a game…"

"Marry, lie with, kill," Dorian repeated.

"…yeah, that. Sounds like it's got potential. Want to borrow my cards?"

"Those won't be necessary, thank you. The game involves no props. It's as simple as it sounds. I will start. I will choose someone at the table, and list to them three people that we all know. My chosen victim must decide which of these three they would marry, which they would kill, and which they would…well…lie with."

"Lie with?" Sera asked. "What, like sharin' a tent?"

Krem smirked. "Not exactly."

"It means…" Cullen began. "Er, well…it's like…"

"It's sex," Bull stated.

Realization lit Sera's eyes. "Ohhh, so like shagging then, right?" She giggled. "Well why didn't you just say that!"

"Good question," Varric agreed. "Lie with, Sparkler, really? What is this, the Chantry?"

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "It's the term we always used when we played back home. To keep up a façade of elegance, or, more likely, to ensure the slaves did not understand. You may each use whichever term you prefer."

"So that's it, then?" Bull asked. "You say who you would marry, screw, and kill, and then that's the end?"

"Not quite. There are a few more rules of which you should be aware. Once you've played your turn, you may choose anyone at the table to go next, and provide that person with three more names. Suggestions from other table members are always welcome, of course. We continue until we get bored or the drinks run out, whichever comes first."

"What if…er…" Cullen began. "Well, can they give you just any three people? Even if the person deciding isn't...attracted to…that type?"

Dorian smirked, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "Any three may be chosen, Commander, regardless of personal preferences. And whoever's turn it is must answer."

"Wait a minute," Blackwall said, "let me get this right. You choose between killing, bedding once, and bedding until you get tired of each other? Not much a choice in that."

Dorian's smirk widened into a grin. "Not quite, dear Warden. I forgot that relationships are practiced differently in Ferelden. The game is only fun, in my humble opinion, if you play with Tevinter social conventions. A marriage is for life—separation is social suicide—but regular intimacy is not necessary. Most married couples I know slept together only enough times as were necessary to produce a successor, and after that remained solely in their separate bedroom quarters."

"So you're stuck together forever, but you don't have to bed each other?" Blackwall asked.

"Precisely."

Varric snorted. "Sounds like my parents."

"What about love?" Cullen asked.

"A nearly foreign concept in Tevinter, I assure you. Lust, though…now that is an expectation. Not only do affairs occur, but they happen passionately and often."

"Meaning…?" Blackwall asked.

"Meaning that in our game when it comes to the category of 'lie with,' I do not merely mean once. I mean regularly, once a week at least, for approximately a year. To simulate a true Tevinter affair, of course."

Blackwall grunted. "Of course. And killing's just killing?"

"Yes. You are all quite familiar, I'm sure, with how well-acquainted my brethren are with that practice."

"This sounds pretty good," Bull admitted. "We gonna start?"

Dorian held up a hand. "Patience. We'll begin only if everyone agrees."

His eyes scanned the table, curious to see his companions' reactions to the proposed activity. Bull had already made his opinion clear—he was excited, muscles clenching like when he fought a dragon. Sera, too, looked like she was about to jump out of her seat, and kept giggling to herself—at imagined trios, Dorian supposed. Varric was hard to read as always, calming sipping from his drink as he took in every detail of the scene, no doubt taking mental notes for when he turned this into a story later. Blackwall and Krem seemed contentedly resigned to the situation, neither enthused nor reluctant. And then there was Cullen.

He stood and attempted to leave the table, but was caught up in the closely-spaced chairs. "I…do not think I can stay longer. I believe I have…paperwork."

Varric raised an eyebrow. "We've all got paperwork, Curly. What's one more hour?"

"Come on, Commander," Bull urged. "It's the perfect opportunity to kick back. It's not like anyone's gonna overhear."

It was true. The tavern was empty, with all tables and chairs except their conglomerated arrangement wiped off and stacked. They'd started drinking late in the evening after returning from the Hinterlands. Dorian was certain there were more people that needed help in those damn woods than in the rest of Thedas combined. They'd been lucky that the barkeep had let them stay past closing, telling them only to clean up after themselves and turn off the lights. The perks of being one of the Inquisitor's companions, he supposed.

"No, really," Cullen stuttered, "I don't think I can…I'm much too…" He gave up on the excuses as his cheeks turned pink. "I'm not sure I want to play this game."

Dorian sighed. He had so been looking forward to the Commander's embarrassed choices. "Well, we'll certainly miss having you, Commander."

Sera shook her head enthusiastically. "Nuh-uh, no way you're leaving. You're gonna play with us, cause if you don't…" she leaned over the table towards Cullen, her voice dipping unexpectedly low, "…then your gooey hair stuff just might go missing. What is it Varric calls you, Curly? Only he don't know the half of it, do he?"

Cullen's eyes widened, and he immediately sank back into his chair. "On second thought, I believe I'll play."

Bull frowned. "Hey, don't worry about the kid. Don't play if you really don't want to."

Cullen opened his mouth, though better of it and glanced at Sera. She sat still and silent, a twistedly innocent smile on her face, her finger twirling a bit of hair around itself again and again. Cullen winced and looked back at Bull. "It's fine. I'm fine. Let's play."

Bull raised his brows, but said no more. Dorian was tired of all the talk. "It's settled, then. Now, who to pick…"