A/N:

This is a translation of the fanfiction „You will be the death of me…" by Billini.

You can find the original version on fanfiktion . de.

I have her permission to do this translation. None of the invented characters that don't belong to BioWare nor the story belongs to me; the translation is mine.

You will be the death of me

A night-time visit

Silently and in an adroit way Liz climbed the balustrade and nosed forward over the handrail of the balcony. The haversack on her back was heavy, but she had managed to arrange the pack's content to where she hardly felt the weight.

At the thought of how rewarding her little adventure during this night had been, she could always rub her hands together. It was indeed amazing to see how careless the high nobility of Kirkwall got when enough wine had flown.

Soft-footedly she approached the double door leading into the deserted house, and opened it. Some weeks ago she had oiled the hinges. Although she hadn't been here since – urgent matters had made her leave Kirkwall temporarily – you still couldn't hear a sound.

With a sigh she dropped the backpack on the floor entering the familiar chill of the building. The air smelled dusty and dry, mixed with a tart, slightly spicy scent.

Hold it, that is new…

The attack happened so fast she hadn't even time to scream.

A hand tightly grasped her throat in a grip as strong as iron. In front of her eyes there was a silvery blue glimmer. She reacted instinctively, wriggling and bending in a way that had already saved her neck a thousand times. She slipped and kicked away her assailants' legs. She rebounded, jumped into a crouched position and looked up.

Her assailant didn't hesitate. She swore loudly and unpleasantly when she had to take to the boats with a second, ungainly leap.

He was fast, inaudible… and he gleamed.

What the blazes…?

Adrenaline suffused her when he grabbed her ankle and dragged her to the ground. She slipped under him and tossed her knee up. He grunted in pain, the first audible sound to escape him. Encouraged she struck out at his throat with the side of her hand but missed it because he managed to grab her wrist previously. Pain flashed through her arm as he roughly pinned it under him, using all of his weight to hold her to the ground. However, she wasn't particularly svelte nor was he as big as other men, so it caused some difficulties for him to retain her.

Without further ado she bit into his neck. Forcefully.

He grunted and swore in a foreign language she didn't know. The next moment he leapt up and back, then attacked her again when she hardly had moved.

This time she had no chance. Before knowing what exactly happened, he had grabbed her arms and threw her to the nearest wall bracing himself against her.

Then his hand was in her chest.

Not at her chest, but IN her chest.

She panicky gasped for air and squirmed with pain when she felt how his fingers grabbed her heart and squeezed. She broke into perspiration and her nails dug into his shoulders which were covered with a close-fitting armor.

"Who sent you?" he growled into her face.

She hardly heard what he said her fear and horror becoming rampant. Panicking she tried to wriggle away.

"Please…" she coughed trying to catch his eye and to bring him to his senses. "You… are killing me!"

Silence, followed by a quiet, menacing: "That's what I mean to do."

Liz froze and looked into his face which could hardly be figured out in the dark of the room. She could see that his hair was bright and parts of his body were glowing.

"Damn it, you freak, let go of me!" she spat. "Nobody sent me. And what are you actually doing in my house?"

He froze and his glowing waned. Then, after seconds seeming eternal to her, he took his hand out of her body. With a relieved groan she slumped to the ground and dashed away at her sweaty hair.

"Your house?" he asked.

"Yes" she replied. "My house. What the blazes are you doing here?"

"It was empty!"

"Because I wasn't here!"

"So you claim this deserted, sordid building inhabited by rats and spiders to be yours?"

"Since very recently there is also living here a freak!"

With a snarl he approached her and started to glow again. "Don't call me that!"

"How else shall I call you, then?" she hissed and planted herself in front of him. „You jump at me and stick your hand into my chest!"

Silence followed while they stared at each other. Then she said: "Switch on the light!"

She could almost see his frown. "Why?"

"Because I would like to see the freak… sorry, the man I'm fighting with."

For some seconds he still stared at her, then grumbled and left the room.

"What… Hey!" she called and followed him. „You can't just go! I'm not finished yet…" The last words she told the door as he slammed it shut.

He was in her room. Where the only working fireplace stood.

Swearing she turned round and trudged back to her backpack. The thought about following him, but considering the I-stick-my-hand-into-you-thing she decided against it. Suddenly her heart started to race as she thought about how close she had come to dying.

Who in the world was he?

She knew it would be intelligent to allow the whole thing go. She could find another place, there were plenty in Kirkwall, but unfortunately none were available in Hightown which was home to the beautiful and rich whose pockets she loved to pick…just because she hadn't been here for some weeks didn't mean he had the right to take it from her.

Don't be silly, Liz she tried to bring herself to reason. Your life is more worth than any principle.

As always she didn't listen to herself and instead choose one of the other rooms. Then she slumped on the dusty divan standing next to the wall and immediately fell asleep.

She woke up when he left his room. She got up silently and looked out of her room. It was morning and soft light came from the windows and let the dust in the air dance.

The first thing she saw was his hair, thick and white as snow. The next thing was his armour… He obviously had a big problem when he dared to go on the street with this. Her trained eyes observed how smooth he moved, like a cat. Then he turned his head and noticed her.

Her breath stopped. He was… ravishing. Deep green eyes, beautifully curved ears and tattoos on his chin. She would have liked to know how far they went on on his body.

"You are still here!" he growlingly detected while she tried to close her mouth and not make mooneyes at him too obviously. She saved herself with a joke: "I'm happy to see you discovered the obvious."

He lightly frowned. "There are enough funnymen in my life already. Get lost!"

„Oh, really? May I meet them?"

„Whom?"

„Your funnymen-friends!"

He looked at her like she was crazy which was sometimes true. "No."

"Don't be a spoilsport."

"Do you want to aggravate me?"

"After I saw your ability last night? Surely not!"

"So why are you still here?"

"Maybe I like my heart being crushed by a man?"

He snorted, rolled his eyes and turned away. "When I return back this evening, you are gone." Then he left.

Her eyes narrowed while following him. He couldn't suspect that he had just made one of the biggest faults of his life: challenging her. This annoyed, grumpy, strange elf should learn what it meant to tangle with her. She was a gambler. And she never lost.