The rain fell heavy outside the Blooming Rose. The sun had long set behind Sundermount, and this night marked the first rain of spring, which Kirkwall desperately needed. Bursting through the brothel doors the first of its patrons stumbled, a red tint to their cheeks with the prospect of the night ahead. The cold in the air was disappearing fast, and with it, the stench that had been accumulating throughout Lowtown during the slushy, snowy months. Winter was gone, and the streets of the red lantern district were glowing beneath the misted lights.

The night hours offered Kirkwall a unique solace, be it at the Hanged Man, the Blooming Rose, or in any dark alley its citizens were willing to brave. The warming air seemed to rouse all manner of shady activity, in every corner of the city. From the smugglers and mercenaries in the undercity to the bored and restless nobles of Hightown, the people were stirring. They were all adrift in a sea of temptation, ready and eager to forget their troubles and see to their desires.

The buzzing crowd in the streets below was nearly drowned out by the sound of raindrops splattering against her window, and Mara Hawke let out the hundredth sigh that night.

"I look like a whore."

Looking herself up and down again in the mirror, she shifted uncomfortably in her extravagant "evening" attire. Her dark hair fell in loose curls, resting lightly across her exposed shoulders and falling down to the center of her back. It was soft to the touch, but smelled strongly of rich oils and perfumes. Beneath her slender neck the line of her corset rested far too low for her comfort, revealing more of her cleavage than she ever would have allowed. Intricate designs of ivory lace hugged around her curvy figure, and a green skirt fell in asymmetrical waves high upon the light skin of her legs. The green shades of her outfit matched her eyes, a choice specifically made by her younger sibling.

The fingers adjusting the decorative waist clasps at her side gave pause, and Bethany cleared her throat softly. "I don't mean to be blunt, sister, but… isn't that the point?"

Mara cast her a sharp look that spoke volumes of her discomfort. Turning back to the mirror, she double-checked and secured each garment in place, again and again. In addition to her revealing outfit, she was adorned head to toe in fine golden accessories, from the jeweled barrette in her hair to the buckles on her heeled shoes. Yes indeed, she was the finest looking whore in the whorehouse.

She sighed again. "I know, I'm sorry. I just…" Her eyes drifted away from her reflection to stare at the rain outside her window. It was opened slightly to welcome the fresh breeze. "I'm a little nervous…"

The weight of the statement hung in the air like a thick fog. Neither sibling could deny the building tension at the night ahead of them. It would be the first night of many. Mara felt small, delicate hands clasp gently around hers. The skin was pale in comparison, but warm and loving all the same.

"I know this must be very hard for you…" Bethany's eyes shimmered in the vivid candlelight. "Maker, you've never even-"

"Yes, well… Let us not dwell on what cannot be undone." Mara closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. There would be a time for this – for regret and self-pity – but it was not now. Right now she needed to focus on the present, on her family. She gave her sister's hands a squeeze and put on a reassuring smile. "Just promise me you'll stay safe. Stay out of trouble and do as you're told. We won't give anyone the pleasure of seeing us fail – not this place, not Athenril, and certainly not Uncle Gamlen," she added dryly. "At least here I don't have to bear his company."

Bethany giggled, but the smile did not reach her eyes as she looked down at their joined hands, blankly staring at the jewelry and lace. "…You're not fooling anyone, you know."

Mara let her hands drop to her sides, a light grin still plastered on her face. "Not wanting this will do little to change it, Bethany."

"Either one of us could have taken this job." She lifted her gaze, her delicate brow furrowed over her light brown eyes. "I could be standing there, all…dolled up, instead of you."

"But you're not. You only just turned eighteen this winter," her stern voice reminded her. "It was either the smugglers or this place, and Athenril only needed one. I made this choice to save your dignity."

"At the cost of your own!" Bethany's voice cracked with the tears that began welling up in her eyes, but she tore her gaze away before they could fall. Just as she always did when she was upset or nervous, she clutched at the red bandana around her neck and began twisting at the fabric.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both their minds, and an uncomfortable minute passed before either of them spoke again. The rain would have worked to calm their frantic nerves, like it used to do in Lothering, but the faded voices and distant laughter of the unfamiliar brothel, in an unfamiliar city, kept them both rooted in their new reality. The painful memory of recent events still stung like an open wound. When Bethany lifted her gaze again, they shared a knowing look. They had to be strong.

A shudder shook her frame, but Bethany's voice was resolute when she spoke again. "I promise you, I won't let you down. I will stay safe, and take care of mother." Enveloping her older sister in a crushing hug, she whispered softly, "Thank you. The Maker may not have always been kind to our family, especially as of late… But magic or not, I am undoubtedly blessed to have you as my sister."

At this, Mara could not help but smile, genuinely, for the first time that night as she returned the loving embrace. "Thank you, Bethany." She kissed the top of her head, mindful of the sharp edges of her sister's staff, and pulled back to look into her doe-like eyes. "Stay out of sight near all these templar's, you hear me? It's hard enough without thinking about you getting dragged off to the gallows…"

"Yes, I know." The young mage put her hands on her hips. "You can trust me not to be a complete half-wit."

"Can I?" she grinned. Her response earned her a playful smack. "Hey, hey, hey," Mara gently waived away the assailing limb. "Don't you have…things to smuggle?"

Bethany stole a glance out the window. A moment passed before she nodded. "Yes, I think it's late enough to head down to the docks now."

Mara followed her sister's gaze outside, for a quiet moment, before her eyes wandered back in to scan the tastefully decorated suite that would be her new home. It would take some time to get used to. Everything would. Again she frowned at her bust line in the mirror and made another attempt to adjust it. She paused when she felt her sister's eyes on her.

"You look beautiful." Bethany teased lightly. Her reflection cast her a sympathetic smile.

Mara scoffed, but for once could find no words.

"…Take care sister." Bethany's voice was strained as she turned quickly and quietly disappeared out the door, her wavy black hair blowing gently behind her.

"You too, Bethany," Mara's soft voice called out.

The moments that followed were surreal. Mara let out the breath she didn't even realize she had been holding and closed her eyes, attempting to reconnect with herself, with the moment. Her room, her clothes, the smells and sounds here were all so…different. Unwelcome. Hopefully this year would go by as quickly as the last three days had gone. When she opened her eyes again, a small part of her dared to hope she would be back in Ferelden, that this was all just a bad dream, or a terribly elaborate prank. She looked back at her reflection with a wry smile.

'I shouldn't press my luck.'

The knowledge that she would inevitably see her mother and sister, albeit sporadically, throughout the year was a little comforting. Lowtown was only a short walk from here. Her family was close. …But in that moment, they had never felt so far away. A thought crossed her mind, and she briefly imagined what sort of heated reaction Carver would have had to these conditions, had he been here with them. She could see him now, crossing his arms and throwing her the infamous scowl of disapproval before beating the first man to pass a glance at her. He may have been brash, and resentful, but he was a good boy, always trying to protect their family.
The smile that had made its way onto her face was short-lived, and it took every ounce of her strength to keep the tears at bay. Her younger brother's death had taken its toll on all three of them. And losing their home, everything she had ever known…

With a shaky breath she straightened herself and faced the mirror. Her only option was to move forward, use what avenues fate had given them so that they could survive – together. Kirkwall was far from the saving grace that they thought it would be; but it was better than nothing. This was what they had to work with now. This would pay their debts into a new life. For one year, she belonged to the Blooming Rose. …And after that?

A piercing voice from the lower level hollered up the stairs, calling out her name. Mara Hawke hastily gave herself another check in the mirror and forced a smile on her painted lips. Seducing a man certainly couldn't be harder than cutting down darkspawn.


The rain was falling steadily throughout the city, but doing nothing to dampen the jovial air felt throughout. The Hanged Man was alive and restless as always, it's usual customers bustling in to drown away their stresses in ale and cheap wenches. The old tavern was a local favorite for many in Kirkwall, and tonight the rain-soaked citizens sang and danced together in drunken merriment. The cheery atmosphere, however, was doing nothing for the sorry man who was currently an object of seething and unprovoked hatred.

"…I think yer scaring that poor fellow."

Sebastian blinked once and released the death grip on his mug, realizing that he had been glaring daggers out at nothing. …Coincidentally, "nothing" happened to be a drunken loner in the corner who was just short of wetting himself in fear. Shaking his head, Sebastian turned his attention back to his half-empty pint, of which his friend Kristof took immediate notice.

"Oy, what's with ye?" Kristof gave the brooding man a nudge to the shoulder. "Ye've barely touched yer dram!" Pausing to stare down at his own, his eyes widened. "…Ye think it's poisoned?"

"I think you're daft." Sebastian finally shifted his gaze, a small smile lighting his bright blue eyes. "Either that or you're already drunk."

Kristof shrugged. "It certainly tastes like poison. Then again, I doubt an obvious poison would make an effective poison, eh?" He gave a hearty guffaw and smacked their other comrade, Brannon, roughly on his back to wake him up.

"It looks like you may be right," Sebastian peered over at their inebriated friend. "It's a good thing I've barely had any."

Kristof leaned forward to point a finger at Sebastian. "All joking aside, lad, I'm still tryin' to figure out is what's got yer loins in a bunch. It's our first night out and yer actin' like a homesick tit."

Sebastian sighed and pushed his drink aside. It wasn't even working anyway. He dragged a hand over his face, wishing his aggravation had not been so…unusually obvious. Sneaking a glance at his friend, he found expectancy and a genuine confusion that furrowed his hefty brow. Even if Sebastian wanted to lie about it, he doubted he could go through with it.

"It's my father," he muttered under his breath.

Kristof raised his brow and ducked low to lean in closer. "What about him? I'll admit he's been a bit…aloof, and this city isn't really the grandest of holiday retreats... But this is a grace, it is!"

"A grace," Sebastian repeated with a chuckle. "How exactly does a washed up old city that smells like aged underclothes constitute a grace?"

Kristof leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, keeping his voice quiet. "I suppose ye enjoy dry political meetings every other day? Because that's all we're missin' back in Starkhaven."

Sebastian scoffed. "First of all, you know as well as I do that the noble's meetings are held half as much as the ones I have to attend as a son of the Prince."

"And ye know as well as I that ye spend more nights in Starkhaven's brothels than in yer own bed!" Kristof laughed boisterously, his whispers growing louder. "I doubt ye've even attended more than three this past year."

Sebastian frowned in concentration and held up the fingers on his left hand to count out some imaginary number before turning to stare at his friend.

"Nope."

They both laughed loudly and Sebastian finally relented, lifting his mug in a clattering toast before finishing off their rounds and ordering more. The three cloaked foreigners trilled their "r's" and spoke in clipped accents that few of the other men could place, but Kirkwall was home to many, even the Qunari now, so no one paid them any mind. 'Discretion' had, after all, been his father's single request of them.

"My point was," he continued, "I feel like this whole thing was rather sudden. Three days ago my father barely knew I existed. This city barely existed. And now I'm spending some chance, weeklong retreat here with him while he visits the Grand Cleric?" He paused to look his friend straight in the eye. "Not to mention the fact that he can't stand either of you, yet he allowed me to bring you along. It just doesn't make any sense."

"It does seem odd…" Kristof nodded. "Maybe your da's involved in a scandalous love affair." He waggled his eyebrows to drive home the implication.

"Right. My father brought us here as a cover for his lusty affair with the Grand Cleric." Sebastian pointed him with a look as if to say, 'You are a dumbass.'

Kristof simply nodded, wide-eyed, as though it were painfully obvious.

He remembered now, why he never looked for logical comfort from his friends. "Doesn't that sound a little blasphemous?"

Kristof doubled over, his charade defeated. "Says the reverent son! Wasn't it ye who ended up passed out at the statue of Andraste, exclaimin' she would have been a 'good lay'?"

Sebastian snorted and stared down into his mug to hide his amusement from the few pairs of wide eyes now looking their way. If there was one thing his father had been right about, it was the need for 'discretion.' The Prince of Starkhaven had used the word with a knowing look when they arrived; and it summarized a multitude of details from incidents past. While a part of Sebastian simply wanted to ignore the old man, as usual, another part of him actually found a unique thrill in keeping his identity a secret.

Usually these outings were more extravagant – fancy parties, spring salons, noble balls. The appearance of royalty often earned all kinds of attention from foreign nobles, as well as eager mothers who wanted to use their daughters as footholds into royal bloodlines. Not that he minded; Sebastian rather liked all the attention. But this time his family was a secret, and his brothers were not here. It was just he and his friends – strangers without a title. Nobody knew him. The whole experience suddenly felt so freeing… It was almost like a challenge.

Sebastian abruptly stood, snatching up his drink and downing the rest before slamming it onto the table. "Gentlemen, let's go have some fun."

"Oy!" Kristof cheered, finishing off his own drink and hauling Brannon to his feet. "There's the Sebastian I know and love! I overheard a pair of brutes earlier, made mention of a nice brothel in the wealthier part of town…"

"Well what are we waiting for?" Sebastian smiled wickedly then.

The three men paid handsomely for their drinks before leaving, blending right in with the rowdy drunkards walking in and out, and left in search of more promising ventures.

They were sorely disappointed.

"…"

"This…is the worst brothel I have ever seen."

Try as he might, Sebastian could not hide his amusement as they once again eyed the woman with the bowl-cut trying her hardest to woo every man who entered the building.

"It's not so bad… I think she likes you. She keeps looking over here."

Kristof gave an indignant snort. "I wouldn't ride that one into battle!" He shot Sebastian a nasty glare. "Keep that up and I'll tell all these lovelies that the Prince of Starkhaven has a penchant for orgies with as many lonely and ugly whores he can get his hands on…"

"All right, all right," Sebastian grinned, leaning back to admire Brannon's catch of the evening.

"…Do ye think we should tell him it's a man?" Kristof whispered.

"In the morning. When he's sober."

The duo laughed loudly, the effects of several rounds of alcohol finally settling into their systems. They were dressed simply, but from the fine details on their clothing still appeared wealthier than most of the other men. Many of the girls had tried their hands on the two, but Sebastian was pickier than he let on. Being well versed in the trade, he preferred to sample his choices before making any commitments. And so, they remained for some time, drinking, laughing and getting eyefuls of legs and cleavage. Feeling a nudge at his side, Sebastian noticed Kristof was suddenly standing.

"Now how did this one elude my sight?" he asked quietly before interrupting the path of a young, flustered-looking girl.

She huffed quietly. "Excuse me Messer." She didn't even bother to lift her eyes from the ground.

With an incessant smile, Kristof sidestepped her when she moved to walk past him. The girl was cute, Sebastian admitted, but the scene unfolding was far more distracting than her looks. He eyed her staff and sparing choice of attire with a raised brow and a knowing grin that Kristof blatantly ignored.

"Beggin' the pardon, miss," Kristof smoothly began, reaching down and taking her petite hand in his. "But your beauty drew my eyes away the moment you walked in the room. What might it take to get your attention?"

She blinked once and snatched her hand away, as if his touch had burned her. With wide, angry brown eyes, she looked at the both of them, hesitantly scanning the crowd with a mixture of pity and disgust. When her wild gaze came back to Kristof, she all but curled her lip at him. Her voice was low and soft when she spoke.

"I don't work here."

She lightly shoved past him, not even so much as a glance in his direction as she stormed out of the brothel. The look of rejection on Kristof's face was almost painful, if it weren't overwhelmed with shock.

Sebastian simply grinned at his friend. "At least you got her attention."

The humor didn't seem to help the sour turn of the night. Eventually Kristof drank himself into thinking that 'bowl-cut girl' was the cutest thing he had ever seen, and when he dragged himself up and away with her, Sebastian swore he would never let him live it down. Suddenly alone, he surveyed the situation with growing disillusionment.

Kristof was right. This brothel was not doing much to impress. At this rate he'd probably have to drink himself into a regretful decision just like his friends had done. It was a shame it took him so long to get that drunk. Maybe he should just go back to the tavern…

"Seen anything you like young man?" The sultry voice of the brothel proprietor tore him from his thoughts. She swooped her hand out over the ladies still gracefully parading around the room, a look of pride on her weathered face. "Your friends have left you all alone, and surely in need of some company."

A trademark smirk spread over his lips. "I thank you for the offer… But with so many lovely decisions, I find it difficult to make up my mind."

"As charming as you are handsome," she purred, "I appreciate a man who knows what he wants…" The older woman brushed her hands over his shoulders, a thoughtful look on her face. "Actually, I have a brand new girl – a Ferelden, if you fancy them – who might pique your curiosity…"

Sebastian tried not to look bored as he studied the faces around the room. Ferelden, Orlesian, Antivan… Ugly was ugly. It was difficult to get his hopes up after so much disappointment. Tavern it was. Before he could respond, however, her shrill voice cut him off.

"Hawke! Get down here girl, you've guests to see to!"

He winced as he stood, his ears ringing. "Really, it's no trouble," he assured her. "I think I'll just…" The smooth pair of legs descending the stairs caught his eye, and he craned his neck out of curiosity. As his eyes slowly traveled up her thighs and over her outfit – stopping briefly at her cleavage – Sebastian suddenly found himself breathless as he met eyes with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. "…stay."

"I'm sorry Madam Lucine, I was just changing-"

"Never mind that, girl," the older woman motioned towards where Sebastian was seated. "Mind your manners and greet your guest," she snipped.

Looking a combination of panicked and irritated, the girl gathered herself and put on a smile. Now facing him fully, she bowed politely and seductively, revealing much to his hungry eyes.

"I beg your pardon, Messer. My name is Hawke." She looked up to meet his gaze. "Would you like some company this evening?"

Sebastian parted his lips to speak, but for once in his life could find no words. Truly, it seemed, there was merit in patience. The girl looked young, no more than twenty, with a fire in her captivating green eyes that had long since died out in the other women. There was an intensity in her gaze, which he met eagerly as he took in every detail of her appearance as best he could. She was certainly the catch of the evening; and he did not give the thought a moment of hesitation.

A greedy smirk danced across his lips as he gently took her hand and placed a light kiss upon her knuckles. It seemed tonight would be a good night after all. With his free hand he swatted a gesture to remove the unwanted company. When the proprietor left in a huff, his newfound companion giggled, the mirth lighting her eyes and drawing him in further. This girl was mesmerizing.

"If it would please you," he began, standing to close the distance between them, "I would very much enjoy an evening in your company." He bowed his head courteously, his playful smirk never faltering.

She held his gaze even as he towered over her. His voice was soft and his deceptively chivalrous words spoke volumes of his intentions and desires, but not nearly as much as the lust reflecting in his blue eyes.

"Might I also say that you have a beautiful name, Lady Hawke. It is as lovely as it is foreign to my ears." He leaned closer. "And I have an insatiable fascination in the unique and exotic." His eyes followed hers as they fell to stare at his lips, as if entranced with every syllable he spoke.

"As do I…" she whispered. At the sound of her own voice, however, she blinked and looked up, shaking her head to hide the blush that had risen to her cheeks. "I'm sorry… May I be so bold as to ask where you are from? I have never heard such a…lovely accent before."

"I come from a place far north of here…" He accentuated his syllables on purpose, pleased to have already found her weakness. "But it is of little consequence. Had I known I'd find myself in such beautiful company, I'd have traveled much sooner."

Her blush deepened, and she sent him a very heated gaze. "Then I suppose that makes me the lucky one," she leaned in to him, "I'll be sure to make this a night you'll never forget, should your travels take you elsewhere."

Her glittering green eyes were treacherous, drawing him in, leaving him breathless and wanting more. Suddenly wary of conversation, he pulled her tight against his chest. "I'll hold you to that," he breathed, their faces mere inches apart.

She parted her lips, ever so teasingly, and took his hand. "Let's go somewhere more cozy, then…" She eyed the stairs and he eagerly followed as she pulled him along, the sway of her hips taking a firm hold of his gaze.

Before either of them knew it, they were alone.


'Andraste's blood, what am I doing?'

Her back was turned, but behind her an audible thump on the bed told her everything she needed to know. Her fingers gently slid over the lock on her door to give them some privacy, her eyes wide with panic as realization slowly began setting in. It turned out seducing a man was a lot easier than fighting darkspawn. …It was simply the results and expectations that had her frozen where she stood. Taking as long as possible, she clicked the latch into place, effectively sealing herself in her room with a lust-driven stranger…with a lovely accent.

She had to hand it to the guy – he certainly knew how to woo a lady when he wanted to. Probably out of practice, she mused. It took a moment for the cold, hard truth to sink in: This was just a one-night thing and this man was just a stranger who wanted nothing more than to use her body for his own selfish desires. She swallowed thickly, the taste of shame a bitter sensation. All his talk downstairs had nearly melted her into a gooey puddle. It was so strange, having to remind herself that he didn't actually care. …None of them would.

Fortunately for her, at least, she could always look on the bright side when things were glum. This guy looked closer to her age than the other men she had seen drifting around downstairs. And he was attractive. When they first met eyes she had already attempted to steel herself against any and all forms of false flattery; but each time he placed a fresh kiss on her hands, each time his intense, crystal blue eyes peered into hers, it was all she could take to keep from swooning at his feet. Yes, if she chose to look at this optimistically, her first customer could have been much uglier. The tanned skin, broad shoulders, and soft auburn hair... His lips on her hands, soft and warm... Maker, and that voice…

'To the void with my wandering mind!' she mentally slapped herself. Her palms were sweating and her breaths were coming in short, eratic bursts through her lungs. She tried to stay calm. Sex didn't sound so bad… Maybe if she just let him take the lead, she wouldn't seem so awkwardly inexperienced. Torn from her thoughts by a pair of large hands on her upper arms, Hawke squeaked in surprise when she felt his breath on her ear.

"It's a dangerous thing," he whispered, his brogue thicker and deeper, "What a woman like you can do to a man." His hands slid with a painful slowness up to her neck, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. "Don't keep me waiting..."

Hawke's eyes went wide when she felt his lips on the nape of her neck, a heat she had never truly known pooling between her legs when his tongue shot out to taste her skin. A deep guttural moan erupted from his chest as he drank her in, biting lightly at her flesh and earning an audible gasp from her. She had to bite her lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape. The things he was doing to her body were…unbelievable; mind numbing… but also battling fiercely with the anxiety boiling beneath her calm exterior.

His fingers reached effortlessly around her front, his arms keeping her backside flush against his chest and waist. Working with quick expertise, he untied and unfastened each carefully placed obstacle to his desire. The top of her corset fell open, and while one hand slowly slid down to press against her lower belly, the other found its way around one of her breasts.

Her breath hitched, her body unmoving as his skilled hands fondled and explored her greedily, hungrily. He worked with the precision of a master, but with the intensity of a starved man, his mouth and fingers wandering over every square inch of her exposed skin. As his hands slid up and onto her shoulders, they gave pause; and his lips soon followed.

It took a moment for her clouded mind to understand why he had stopped, she herself oblivious to the answer at first.
...She was shaking.

She felt him pull away to study her profile, but still the only sign of her discomfort was in the slight trembling of her shoulders. Cursing her body, she spun around to quickly cover her blunder, one arm absent-mindedly reaching to shield the part of her exposed chest.

"Is… Is something wrong?" She forced her eyes to meet his and smiled devilishly, a poor attempt after her second fumble. "You didn't have to stop."

He took a step back, staring her down while she felt like a doe caught in the hunt. Beneath his scrutinizing gaze, her eyes shifted elsewhere, but she could still see him. His eyes focused in and around her, his brow working itself in knots as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto one leg. His gaze was piercing, as if searching his clouded mind for answers. After a moment, she met his eyes when his brow quirked with realization.

"You're a virgin."

"I…" Hawke tried searching for words, but despite her quick tongue, she was a horrible liar. "…Balls."

She blew it.

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes. Instead of breaking down into tears, like she might have done on a bad day, her shoulders slumped and her head fell back in defeat. Surprising even herself, she let out a very long, exasperated sigh.

"Andraste's ass, I make a terrible whore."

"...Pardon?" she heard him laugh.

Still making a half-assed attempt to save her dignity, she drew her arms around herself and peaked at him through a half-lidded glare, letting out an exhausted chuckle. "Well I'm glad one of us thinks this if funny."

Arms still crossed, he smirked and shook his head. He seemed momentarily taken aback. "You could've fooled me with that display down there."

"Apparently I did fool you," she countered with a smirk of her own. She hung her head with a sigh. "Cute and a sense of humor, and I still messed it up," she mused wistfully to herself.

"Shame on me being fooled then. Perhaps I have had a bit much too much to drink..." He paused and then pinned her with an unreadable gaze. "I fail to see, though, how you've messed anything up. The night is still young."

She cast him a pointed look. "Stolen the hearts and bodies of many virgins before? Or should I just credit your persistence as one of your stronger assets?"

"…Both, I think." He strolled slowly towards her. "I know what I want. And I can be very persistent to see that I get it." Grinning wickedly, he tenderly stroked the side of her face, but she was determined not to swoon over a man with such a swollen ego, no matter how cute he was.

"That's very sweet. In this case, however, you'll find you are paying for services, of which I am obligated to perform." She simply stared at him. "I, personally, am offering you nothing."

"No matter. Seeing as how I've paid for the entire night, I'll have plenty of time to think of all kinds of services for you to perform." He was behind her again, pulling gently on the arms hiding her body from view. "Come now, don't be shy…" he ushered lightly. "By the end of the night you'll be well-versed in the art, I promise you."

Regarding him with wary eyes over her shoulder, she watched as he began to slowly peel away at the excessive garments still clinging to her body. He was either drunk and hid it well, or he was as pig-headed and persistent as she thought. Probably a combination of the two. She bit her lip, hard, to keep from saying anything else to ruin the evening. Maker knows she can never keep her mouth shut; and this time there was a lot more at stake than her pride. She fought to stifle her moan when his gentle fingers massaged her bare neck and shoulders. Her legs were melting into liquid pools beneath her. And she hated it.

She hated having to choose. She hated having to keep quiet and accept her "role." She hated that she couldn't just…fall in love on her own, share this experience with someone special. A stubborn fury was building within her, one that she could not satisfy. What's worse was her body was certainly not denying itself the delight and satisfaction of each curious new sensation wrought by his lips and fingers. This stranger was doing things to her body that no man had ever done before; and he was very good at it. From her peripherals she watched him, drowning out the war in her mind with details of his handsome features, and a curious thought…

What if they had met under different circumstances?

'One night,' she reminded herself. Never had a moment been so bittersweet. She felt his hands wander further, felt his firm need against her backside. Who was she to deny him? He was, after all, her customer. This would be her life now.

Slowly, her reluctant hands found their way behind her, grasping onto his neck. Releasing more than inhibitions, a small piece of her seemed to break – like the first fracture on a pane of pressured glass. Without any further hesitation, she leaned her head back to allow him better access to her neck, a small whimper escaping her throat.

Her acceptance spurred him into action as his hands greedily swept over her exposed chest. Humming low in his chest, he bit and nipped along her jaw line, traveling down her slender neck. His movements were quick and precise, his fingers working at a level of dexterity worth noting. His gentle, yet demanding ministrations soon had her breathing heavy again, all thought and awareness slowly evaporating amidst the clouds of desire that now hung thickly in the room.

Biting her lip did little to hush the cries that fell from her mouth, and in one swift motion she was stripped of her remaining clothing and hoisted up onto her bed. Breathing, touching, teasing, he sent her quickly into a state of sheer bliss. All else forgotten, she could only lose herself in the ecstasy.

He himself was not far off, the effects of alcohol and lust fueling his sex-driven mind into relishing every sound, feel, and taste of her. She would not be the first to lose her innocence to him, but this girl was already burning a place in his memory – as foggy and hazy as it was in its current state. Everything suddenly seemed so fuzzy… When exactly had that happened? Part of him, somewhere in the back of Sebastian's mind wished he had been sober to enjoy this, because it was all happening so fast. Neither was ready when he suddenly found himself pressed against her moistened entrance. …But it was her soft voice that tore him from his ravenous onslaught, a delicate plea that called forth a tenderness in him he had never known to exist.

"Wait…"

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled from their exertions. Alight with a newfound uncertainty and fear, her emerald eyes pierced his soul and begged to him, an unspoken wish. Their labored breathing and slick bodies were mere details, all fading away in his mind. Looking into her eyes, Sebastian almost forgot how to breathe.

"…Be gentle," she whispered. A request, honest and pure, from one so…beautiful… He briefly wondered what a goddess like her was even doing in a place like this.

The darkness in his eyes was overcome with a hesitance and understanding, feelings both foreign and frightening to him, and it shook him to his very core. His mind was still processing while his body continued to act. Slowly, he pushed inside her, his voice a gentle murmur against her temple…

"I promise."

The feeling of completion, of wholeness, was beyond comprehension. Perhaps it really was all the alcohol, but Sebastian would never know. As he broke past the barriers of her innocence he felt her tremble, and he was vaguely aware of the single tear that slid down her cheek, of the slow nod of her head to continue. His body screamed for release, but his mind kept their pace and moved in accordance with her wishes. Every languid roll of their hips sent him spiraling into absolution, satisfying an ache in her that she would come to know.

Their pace quickened with her urging, and he clung to her, mindful of her comfort and of her pleasure as their bodies became one. Finding a rhythm that caused them both to cry out in abandon, he squeezed his eyes shut and thrust inside her one final time, every nerve and every pore afire with his release.

Waves of completion were followed only by waves of exhaustion. Fatigue and intoxication quickly took advantage of his overwhelmed senses, and he was sent drifting off into a deep and frozen slumber.


A/N: Chapter 1, revised and updated! To all my readers, reviewers, and fellow fan-fiction writers – thank you. :)
I own no rights or privileges to Dragon Age and it's wonderful characters.
Without further a due, I hope you enjoy the story!