It had been years since he was shipwrecked on this desolate island. All that survived the wreck were himself and a pregnant sheep. If it hadn't been for the fish and his little flock the lonely man would have died from hunger or exposure. He mused reflectively that once he had been king and all his needs had been met by an entire kingdom. Now he was a shepherd and all his needs were met as well.

He almost missed the elves. Rather, he almost missed the elven women. The elven men complained too much when he made his needs clear. The elven women were lovely and compliant and beautiful on their hands and knees. He felt a rush of blood to his groin and an old familiar stirring. But they talked a lot as well.

Sheep on the other hand, sheep were perfect. They never talked back and once they were trained to it, they were perfectly compliant, even the ram. Their ears were shaped similarly to elves, but tougher and better suited as handles. His last thought for a long while, before the bliss overtook him, was that it was a pity he didn't know how good life could be until he was shipwrecked.

Denerim, at the Royal Palace.

"Cailan had his sh-, err, women" The Queen said, "but he was always discrete."

Denerim, after the Blight.

Anora sighed. It had to be a Theirin thing. Then she knelt on her hands and knees and baa'ed softly. Alistair's erection grew.

Meanwhile in Kirkwall.

"You want me to what?" Hawke was incredulous.

"I promise it will be fun" the mage wheedled. "You asked what my fantasy was and I told you. We did your fantasy, after all."

"Ropes and spankings are perfectly normal. But Anders, really, the 'Lonely Shepherd'?" she objected. Then seeing the look on his face, she knelt down, sighed, bent forward and baa'ed softly.