Just wanted to show you all what I've been working on, so that you know I've not gone dark on this site. Just have to get this one out of my system before I can focus on the other three. I am still writing on all of them. It's just slow going. I've got a few more chapters up on ao3 with the pen name crazyartchic.
Description
In the time before Elvhenan fell, Fen'Harel is made to create a spell to find his Mate. He puts qualities that no (one) person could possess, though he does add things he secretly desires. Years later, he's forced to face the consequences of that spell. She is everything he's ever wanted, and nothing he needs right now. He has his cause to think of now, his people, and he does not deserve whatever happiness the spell could bring.
Hawke has never been safe, on the run since what happened at the Gallows. Fenris is the only one who was able to stay by her side, the brother she adopted long ago. When he leaves to protect her, she is captured. She meets the Dread Wolf though he does not know she knows. What she does know is that he is an egotistical overblown jackass, and if he thinks she'll back down, he's got another thing coming.
They circle one another, each trying to figure the other out. He is set on ignoring her. The two will rock the Inquisition, and the world may never be the same. What do you do when you have the attention of an elven god? What do you do when the object of your affection is someone you are trying to avoid? and what will happen, if they finally come together?
Chapter 1
Since beginning to work with the Inquisition, Solas had been in an assortment of odd locations, but he does not know where he is now. A jail cell is his best guess, sure, but that begs the question of how he got here. Seeker Pentagast is not so unreasonable as to toss him into a cell in his sleep…at least not yet. A shuffling sound behind him alerted Solas to another presence in the cell with him, and he turned to see who it was. There, in the back corner of the cell, was a woman.
She had her arms around herself, her legs folded in on the floor, and a hand on one of her ankles, without any form of clothing. She had her face turned away from him, hidden by beautiful ink black hair, but from the way she cringed, she knew he was there. Solas tried to take a step towards her, but she shrank even further into the corner, if such an achievement were possible. Strange vallas'lin covered her entire body, but they did not belong to any of those he was familiar with. He crouched down to her level, and tried again.
"Dirtha ma, girem'lan, sai esahn te na shaelyl?" Solas asked, gently.
Tell me, slave, to whom do you belong?
"Lahna em ei girem'lan sal melana, eil itha ahn sua sai na." The words were soft, spoken with a voice that had not seen use in some time, but the force of her voice showed through.
Call me a slave one more time, and see what happens to you.
"Teleolasan. Ane syri vianvallasa tel Vallas'lin?" He asked, not wanting to anger her.
I don't understand. Are those markings not Vallas'lin?
He would get no answers that way. The Dalish had refused to hear him when he tried to explain what the vallas'lin were. Granted, he hadn't expressed truthfully how he knew that, passing it off as knowledge he learned while walking the Fade. The Elders had known enough to listen to his stories of ancient times, but the second he brought up the vallas'lin, that stopped. So he was surprised with the fire of this woman.
"Din." She growled, her voice a bit stronger now. "Es'an ane tel. Es'an ane lyrium."
No. They are not. They are lyrium.
Then she said something that surprised him.
"Na ane tel'vaer. Dara var, eil vara em sasha." She demanded, her voice still raspy, but strong.
You are not real. Go away, and leave me alone.
"Itha eir em. Lasa em sai itha nar inan." Solas said, coaxingly.
Look at me. Allow me to see your eyes.
She turned her head to face him slightly, as if she wasn't sure why she should be listening to what she thought of as a hallucination. Yet when she was able to see him, her eyes widened, and Solas was struck by the most brilliant bright deep blue he had ever seen, like lyrium. She searched his eyes, for what he wasn't sure. Then, tentatively, she reached out with one hand to touch his face.
"Na'ne vaer?" She asked, and he heard the first stirrings of hope.
You're real?
The moment her hand touched his face, he was lost. Despite being here for an undetermined amount of time, she felt warm to him. Almost consciously, he leaned into her hand. There was something he wasn't seeing, something important. At the moment, he couldn't think of what it was, but it called to him.
"Ane na ahnsul ara shos'lavin nuisa?" She asked, hesitantly.
Are you why my ankle hurts?
"Ahn?" He asked, not understanding.
What?
She slowly removed her hand from her ankle, and his eyes became impossibly wide. What he saw shook him. She should not have that mark, but there it was. On her ankle, was the outline of a howling wolf, his mark for a spell he'd only cast once. He reached out slowly, looking to her for permission, to touch the mark.
"Thu ter na gara min?" Solas asked, not knowing what else to say.
How did you get this?
"Shenathe vianvallas. Ra ema tel nuem i've. Teleolasan. Ahnsul air min arulin?" She replied.
Birth mark. It has not hurt before. I don't understand. Why is this important?
"Ar'an ema sai gara na tor or amahn. Mala. Ver min. Gara julathen. Te na tara? Vira?" He said, suddenly filled with a sense of urgency, taking off his top belt and shirt to give to her.
We have to get you out of here. Now. Take this. Get dressed. Can you stand? Walk?
He has no idea why the sudden sense of urgency has hit him, but he hands her the items and turns to give her some semblance of modesty. She doesn't hesitate to put on the shirt, though it looks like more of a short dress on her as it reaches her knees when he helps her stand, and the belt, which she ties around her waistline to keep the shirt down. A sound down the hallway alerts them both. Some one is coming their way, and quickly. There isn't much time to hatch an escape plan.
"Come on. Come on." She mutters, as she snaps her fingers. Suddenly a small spark ignites. "Yes!"
"You speak trade?" He asks, surprised.
"If I said no now, would you believe me?" She asked, playfully, her eyes alight with mischief. "You spoke to me in elvhen first. So, that's what I answered you in. I really think we have bigger things to worry about than my proficiency in languages."
She makes her way to the door, and starts maneuvering her fingers as if she has lock picks. He isn't sure what she means to do, but a moment later, the door opens. She lets out a noise of triumph, and starts quickly walking down the hall. He has no choice but to follow her, and does so, wondering what her next move is. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he needs to follow her.
"You! Stop!" A guard shouted, upon seeing them.
"Well, shit." She grumbled. "Alright. Let's see if my magic has had time to recover to do this."
Raising her arms, to either side of her, only the forearms going towards the guard, she moves them as if a ballista had just been fired…All around them, other cells opened, and prisoners rushed out. The guard suddenly had other problems, and she continued to walk down the hall. From the looks of things, she seems to be searching for something. He watches as she walks through the fighting in an unhurried pace, as if she has all the time in the world…or she has overdone it.
"BarkSpawn! Where are you?" She shouted, straining to listen for something.
"BarkSpawn?" Solas asked, confused.
"My Mabari. These bastards took him from me, and if they've killed him, I'm burning this motherfucking building to the ground…just as soon as my magic recovers…and I can find me something to eat." She answers, as she continues to quickly walk down the halls. "I don't know how long I've been here, but it's been long enough that if I use any more magic like that, I'll pass out."
"I don't have anything on me, Ir abelas." Solas replies, still thinking about the Mabari. I'm sorry
"You literally just gave me the shirt off your back, so that I don't have to wander around this shit hole buck ass naked, no puns intended, and you're sorry you have no food for me." She comments, like she can't quite believe it. "You are an odd duck, you know that?"
"Why haven't you tried to escape before now?" Solas asked, curious.
"Considering I had enough Magebane in my system to knock out the First Enchanter? I'm surprised magic's recovered at all." She replied, still looking around. "I don't know how they knew. It's not in any of the stories. Varric left that part out, I'm sure of it. I actually thought they would have made me tranquil, but it's like they forgot about me. They just threw me in here…after taking my Mabari, and my clothes."
"Why do you even have a Mabari at all?" He asked, unable to hide his distaste for the creatures.
"You're not from Fereldan, are you?" She replies, with a smile, though it's a statement more so than a question. Then she sees something that makes her happy, and runs towards it. "BarkSpawn! Oh, what did they do to you, boy?"
"Here. Let me. You said no more magic for you right now anyway." Solas volunteered, unsure of what made him want to do this for her, and uses the motions she did earlier to break the Mabari out of the cage he was in. When BarkSpawn jumps out of the cage, Solas visibly flinches, and when the woman looks at him questioningly, he admits. "I don't have…the best history…with hounds."
"I understand. He says you're alright, though, if that helps." She offers, then looks to the Mabari. "Did you see where they took my stuff?"
The Mabari barks, and trots off in a different direction. She waists no time, and follows the Mabari as quickly as she can, dodging fighting prisoners and guards along the way. Solas doesn't understand why she's listening to a Mabari, or how she can even understand the creature in the first place. She has given him many things to think about, whether she knows it or not. The mark makes him question everything.
"My clothes are gone, but at least they didn't burn the shoes." She mumbles, as she's putting them on. They are woven boots, much like his own. Then she begins looking through everything else, picking up items as she goes. "Weapons, journals, potions. Where is it? Where is it? Ha! There you are! I've missed you, old friend."
The Mask of Fen'harel, she's talking to the Mask of Fen'harel. He'd recognize that mask anywhere, considering he'd made it. A wolf skull with black fur attached, the mask was intelligent, and helped with maneuverability in battle. She puts it on her head without a second thought, and it disappeared. That she would even wear it surprised him, knowing that his legacy had been twisted over the years.
"Ar eolasa, Ar eolasa. Ir abelas. Ar tel eolasa thu as'an talandraer sai vor na o em." She said, so quickly that he almost didn't catch it.
I know, I know. I'm sorry. I don't know how they managed to rip you from me.
"Where did you get that mask?" He asked, angrily.
"Full of questions, aren't you?" She teased, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Your ear…" He said, his voice trailing off. Her ear was almost as long and tapered as his, but it was closer to her head, and mutilated.
"I really must be going. No time for long stories." She replied, before heading out into the craziness that was a prison riot.
Moments before…
Since having to run from the hiding spot, things had taken a turn for the worse. She wasn't even sure how they'd gotten the drop on her, but they had. They'd wasted no time in giving her more magebane than she'd ever been dosed with in her whole life, and left her there in her birthday suit. She'd been half out of her mind for most of the time, huddling in the corner was the only warmth the room provided, but when someone randomly popped into the room she was glad for whatever way to hide her body from them. She wasn't even sure she could fight them off, as those people had left her there and had not come back.
Her ankle flared up in pain, something that had never happened before, and she tried to recall half forgotten stories her father had said to her. She remembered that it was important. There was a more immediate threat to assess at the moment anyway. She didn't sense danger from him, but she didn't know if she could trust that. There were plenty of people who didn't look dangerous that were.
"Dirtha ma, girem'lan, sai esahn te na shaelyl?" The man asked, gently.
Tell me, slave, to whom do you belong?
"Lahna em ei girem'lan sal melana, eil itha ahn sua sai na." She'd responded without even thinking about it, or her precarious position.
Call me a slave one more time, and see what happens to you.
"Teleolasan. Ane syri vianvallasa tel Vallas'lin?" He asked, sounding confused.
I don't understand. Are those markings not Vallas'lin?
So the vallas'lin were the markings of a slave? Well, there was her new learned thing for the day. Hawke had always assumed they were showing what elven 'god' they wanted to be aligned with. Hawke realized though, that being aligned with could loosely be construed as slavery, but only because those being no longer walked among the living. Were they there now, it would be a different story.
"Din." She growled, her voice a bit stronger now. "Es'an ane tel. Es'an ane lyrium."
No. They are not. They are lyrium.
"Na ane tel vaer. Dara var, eil vara em sasha." She demanded, her voice still raspy, but strong.
You are not real. Go away, and leave me alone.
"Itha eir em. Lasa em sai itha nar inan." The man said, coaxingly.
Look at me. Allow me to see your eyes.
Wait a minute…this was a hallucination…right? She turned her head to face him slowly, unsure why she was even doing this. When she saw him though, she knew that this could be no hallucination. Power came from him, though it felt subdued somehow, as if it were asleep. Even so, she felt the need to reach out to him, to touch his face, if only to reaffirm that he was indeed real.
"Na'ne vaer?" She asked, hopeful now.
You're real?
The moment her hand touched his face, she knew. Images flooded her mind, and her ankle still in pain, and she knew. He subtly leaned into her touch with his eyes half closed, almost as if he wasn't aware that he was doing so, while she inwardly reeled at the images that ran through her mind. Did he know that she knew who he was? Had he meant for her to know?
"Ane na ahnsul ma shos'lavin nuisa?" She asked, hesitantly.
Are you why my ankle hurts?
"Ahn?" He asked, not understanding.
What?
She slowly removed her hand from her ankle, and his eyes became impossibly wide. He didn't seem to know what to do at first, and just stared at it. She had no way to know what he was thinking, but it was clear that he had not expected to see that mark. Even stranger to her, she knew that he had recognized it, knew it for what it was, even if she couldn't remember at the moment. He reached out slowly, looking to her for permission, to touch the mark.
"Thu ter na gara min?" He asked, still at a loss.
How did you get this?
"Shenathe vianvallas. Ra ema tel nuem i've. Teleolasan. Ahnsul air min arulin?" She replied.
Birth mark. It has not hurt before. I don't understand. Why is this important?
"Ar'an ema sai gara na tor or amahn. Mala. Ver min. Gara julathen. Te na tara? Vira?" He said, suddenly filled with a sense of urgency, taking off his top belt and shirt to give to her.
We have to get you out of here. Now. Take this. Get dressed. Can you stand? Walk?
It had surprised her when he started taking off his shirt, but then he'd handed it to her, along with the belt that had been over it. She is glad when he turns slightly to give her some small amount of privacy, considering how much of her nakedness he'd already seen. She doesn't hesitate to put on the shirt, though it looks like more of a short dress on her as it reaches her knees when he helps her stand, and the belt, which she ties around her waistline to keep the shirt down. A sound down the hallway alerts them both. Some one is coming their way, and quickly. There isn't much time to hatch an escape plan.
"Come on. Come on." She mutters, as she snaps her fingers. Suddenly a small spark ignites. "Yes!"
"You speak trade?" He asks, surprised.
"If I said no now, would you believe me?" She asked, mischievously. "You spoke to me in elvhen first. So, that's what I answered you in. I really think we have bigger things to worry about than my proficiency in languages."
She wasn't going to be able to do a lot, but she was glad she had been able to get her magic working again at all. There had been a sense of urgency that may have forced her magic to react sooner. She makes her way to the door, and starts maneuvering her fingers as if she has lock picks. A moment later, the door opens, and she lets out a noise of triumph. Alright, now to get out of there, find her Mabari, and maybe her clothes.
"You! Stop!" A guard shouted, upon seeing them.
"Well, shit." She grumbled. "Alright. Let's see if my magic has had time to recover to do this."
Raising her arms, to either side of her, only the forearms going towards the guard, she moves them as if a canon had just been fired…All around them, other cells opened, and prisoners rushed out. The guard suddenly had other problems, and she continued to walk down the hall. That had taken a lot to do that, but she doesn't let it show. There are more important matters now.
"BarkSpawn! Where are you?" She shouted, straining to listen for something.
"BarkSpawn?" He asked, confused.
"My Mabari. These bastards took him from me, and if they've killed him, I'm burning this motherfucking building to the ground…just as soon as my magic recovers…and I can find me something to eat." She answers, rambling, as she continues to quickly walk down the halls. "I don't know how long I've been here, but it's been long enough that if I use any more magic like that, I'll pass out."
"I don't have anything on me, Ir Abelas." He replies, sounding genuine.
I'm sorry
"You literally just gave me the shirt off your back, so that I don't have to wander around this shit hole buck ass naked, and you're sorry you have no food for me?" She comments, like she can't quite believe it. "You are an odd duck, you know that?"
"Why haven't you tried to escape before now?" He asked, curious.
"Considering I had enough Magebane in my system to knock out the First Enchanter? I'm surprised it's recovered at all." She replied, still looking around. "I don't know how they knew. It's not in any of the stories. Varric left that part out, I'm sure of it. I actually thought they would have made me tranquil, but it's like they forgot about me. They just threw me in here…after taking my Mabari, and my clothes."
"Why do you even have a Mabari at all?" He asked, unable to hide his distaste for the creatures.
"You're not from Fereldan, are you?" She replies, with a smile, though it's a statement more so than a question.
Considering everything she saw when she touched his face, she isn't sure she should reveal what she knows just yet. She is also not ready to think about how good he looks without a shirt on, like someone had sculpted his muscles out of marble. That thought will be kept to herself until she can deal with getting out of this hellhole, and then maybe she'd think about it. She wonders, vaguely, what he will think when he realizes what she has of his. Then she sees something that makes her happy, and runs towards it.
"BarkSpawn! Oh, what did they do to you, boy?" She exclaimed.
"Here. Let me. You said no more magic for you right now anyway." He volunteered, surprising her. When BarkSpawn jumps out of the cage, Hawke does not miss the way he visibly flinches, and looks to him in concern. After a moment, he admits. "I don't have…the best history…with hounds."
"I understand. He says you're alright, though, if that helps." She offers, then looks BarkSpawn. "Did you see where they took my stuff?"
BarkSpawn barks once, and trots off, leading her. She waists no time, and follows as quickly as she can, dodging fighting prisoners and guards along the way. She is surprised that the man follows her still, figuring that he would have vanished when she'd gotten out, instead of following her into the inventory room, curious as to what she's looking for. He remains silent, as if he isn't sure of what to say.
"My clothes are gone, but at least they didn't burn the shoes." She mumbles, as she's putting them on. They are woven boots, much like his. Then she begins looking through everything else, picking up items as she goes. "Weapons, journals, potions. Where is it? Where is it? Ha! There you are! I've missed you, old friend."
She knew he'd be curious about why she had his mask. There would be confusion, anger, and more. Of course he would recognize the mask, considering that he'd made it. She puts it on her head without a second thought, having trusted it with her life more times than she can count, and it disappeared. She can see the surprise in his posture, that he didn't think anyone would willingly do what she had just done.
"Ar eolasa, Ar eolasa. Ir abelas. Ar'tel'eolasa thu as'an talandraer sai vor na o em." She said, so quickly that he almost didn't catch it.
I know, I know. I'm sorry. I don't know how they managed to rip you from me.
"Where did you get that mask?" He asked, angrily.
"Full of questions, aren't you?" She teased, tucking her hair behind her ear. So he had decided to go with anger first then.
"Your ear…" He said, his voice trailing off. Shit. She had forgotten about that.
"I really must be going. No time for long stories." She replied, avoiding his statement, before heading out into the craziness that was a prison riot.
"Etunash!" He cursed, sitting straight up in the bed.
Shit!
"Solas? Solas, are you awake? Your expertise is required." Cassandra said, curtly, after knocking on the door.
"Give me a moment to freshen up, and I will be right there, Seeker." He called out, shaking the dream from his mind.
There would be much to do before he had the spare time to explore the meaning of them. That was odd, his shirt was gone. Did he take it off before heading to bed? Doubtful in this cold climate. He shrugged, and simply put on another shirt.
Stepping out into the cool air, he looks to the Seeker, and asks. "How is she?"
"Ran into problems with a small rift on our way back." Cassandra explained, very business like, as they walked. "She sealed it, but the after effects are what concern me. She is dreaming things, a woman in trouble…and a mabari hound, of all things."
"I will see what I can do." He said, keeping his voice level.
He needed to talk with Lavellan. If she was having the same dreams he was, it wasn't to do with the rifts. It had to be something else, like maybe the woman was calling across the Fade for help without knowing what she was doing. It had been a form of communication across vast distances before, but now it seemed no one knew how to do it. So when someone did, it was an accident or a desperate push on their magic to call for help.
"I was told you were having mysterious dreams." Solas stated, the second he walked into the healer's rooms.
"If I had any drawing ability, they might not think I'm crazy, but…well…I'm terrible at it." Lavellan admitted, with a somewhat sheepish grin. He would never admit it to anyone, but he thought it was adorable how she blushed when admitting such things.
"I don't believe these dreams of yours are connected to a fade rift." Solas stated, comforting her. Lavellan looked both relieved and disappointed at the same time. "However, I do think it may be a powerful mage asking for help. She may not even be aware that she's doing it."
"My dreams don't show her using any magic, though. She doesn't even carry a staff." The young woman said, as if in deep thought.
"I believe we may be sharing dreams, lethal'lan. If we are, it is possible that she is putting everything into calling for help." Solas replied, surprising the Herald. "She is…quite loud in her pleas."
"How long for you?" She asked, her emerald green eyes widening even as her voice lowered, leaning in like they were talking about a conspiracy.
"Last night it felt like I was truly there, lethal'lan." Solas admitted, with a sigh. "She is in grave danger, where ever she is."
"Describe her to me…" Varric said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Solas had dismissed him before, sitting on the side as he was, assuming he had come to check on Lavellan. "I hope I'm wrong…Please, let me be wrong."
"Shoulder length black hair, blue eyes, long legs. She has some kind of tattoos. I thought they were Vallas'lin, but they don't belong to any of the elven gods I know of." Lavellan replied, looking to him now.
"Where is she? Did you recognize any landmarks?" Varric asked, suddenly determined. Solas did not expect to see such a drastic change in the normally jovial dwarf.
"As of last night, she was escaping from a holding cell of some kind. I found her there. Those are not vallas'lin. She said they are lyrium, and they are all over her body." Solas replied, in his usual scholarly manner.
"How do you know that?" Varric asked, looking at him with suspicion.
"When I found her, she was in the corner of the cell…naked. Whoever captured her took all of her clothes, drugged her with enough magebane to knock out the First Enchanter; her words by the way, and left her to rot. She also said something about you not writing about that in your stories, though I don't know what that means, I'm sure you do, master Tethras." Solas stated. "She had a birthmark, the outline of a howling wolf on her ankle. I gave her my shirt so she wouldn't be unclothed, which might explain why I woke up without one this morning, but not how. Her Mabari is called BarkSpawn, I believe."
"What happened?" Varric asked, looking more worried than he's ever seen.
"I don't know. I woke up here right after she found her things." Solas replied. "She was on her way out."
"I told her to stay put, that it would be safe where she was. I don't understand how she got captured." Varric mumbled, looking more troubled by the minute, then announced. "I'm leaving."
"Dwarf." Cassandra warned, practically growling at him. "You don't even know where she is."
"Don't you 'Dwarf' me, Seeker! It's your fault she's in this mess, and if anything happens to her, by the time I'm through with you the Maker won't even be able to find what's left!" Varric snapped angrily, turning to the woman quickly. "I'm going after her! She would do no less for me."
"Who is she, Varric?" Lavellan asked, instantly concerned. "I'll gladly help you find your friend."
"She's technically the reasoned I was drafted into the Inquisition, the reason why the Seeker here felt it necessary to torture me for three days before deciding to graciously let me go." Varric replied, more calmly to Lavellan, though it was clear he held a deep seated anger towards Cassandra.
"After you lied to me about not knowing her location, and then spun some ridiculous story about her escapades." Cassandra countered, with a snort.
"I was not going to subject her to you!" Varric growled, now shouting. "After everything that's happened to her, I was not going to add you to the mix. Your people have done enough to her."
"The Champion of Kirkwall would have been a voice of reason among the mages. They respect her! She could have helped us at the Conclave!" Cassandra shouted back, facing the dwarf.
"Or she could have been blown up with it." Varric countered, stopping Cassandra cold. "I, for one, am glad I didn't take that chance."
"The Champion of Kirkwall? You mean it's Hawke?" Lavellan asked, making a connection Solas did not understand. "I remember seeing parts of the Exalted Plains, if that helps, though I didn't see the holding cell Solas did. How soon can we make it there, Solas?"
"She may not have that kind of time." Solas explained, after a moment. "It will take us days, weeks even, to reach her."
"Then we'd better get started. I told Flint once that I'd always bet on her making it through anything." Varric said, as he made his way to the door. "I never said anything about her having to go through it alone."
"Flint?" Solas asked, turning to Lavellan.
"It's his nickname for Hawke." Cassandra said, resignedly, before she too walked out of the room.
"Well, we'd better get started. You coming with us Solas?" Lavellan asked.
"I believe I shall accompany you this time, lethal'lan." Solas replied, and they walked to join the others. "It is intriguing that her magic could call to us both from across the Fade, even more strange to pull someone through it to where they are."
"That isn't the first time she's done something like that without knowing it." Varric stated, hearing them as they walked up to the stables. "Though, the pulling someone to her thing is new."
"She's…done this before? This…Flint of yours?" Solas asked, more intrigued. "Not many alive can claim such ability, Master Tethras."
"Called to a hedge mage from across the fade? Yeah." Varric replied, with a chuckle. "She said last time it happened, a Witch of the Wild answered. The woman turned out to be the daughter of Flemeth, who Flint says houses the soul of an old god…Mythal, if I'm not mistaken. I forget that you refuse to read my works. I wouldn't have to explain so much if you would just read it."
"After reading Swords and Shields, you can not think to blame me, Master Tethras." Solas said, noting that Cassandra of all people blushed at that.
"I thought elves were suppose to be pretty open in their sexual practices, Chuckles. I had no idea you were such a prude." Varric replied, with a knowing smirk. "Besides, The Tales of the Champion doesn't have a single smutty page about her."