As expected, "A Silent Courtship" caused an uproar in the barracks. As did every edition after it. Varric had even taken to sending her each one ahead of time with a little note attached. At first the notes were benign, all directed at what the dwarf thought the guards' reactions might be. Over the months, they grew more personal, more tailored to her. The newest that arrived on this day read:

Aveline,

You'll love this one. Nice and spicy. Careful where you read it!

Your devoted storyteller,

Varric

The guard-captain huffed at the note, folding it up and setting it aside. Her hand hovered over the cover, fingertips brushing against the edge. Every nerve seemed to come alive when she touched it. Her much vaunted self-control fell away in the presence of mere paper and ink. Her fingers shifted to trace the title: "The Valiant Rescue". A sceptical, even disappointed look crossed her face. Succumbing to clichés? You can do better than that, Varric. Like so many times before, Aveline spared a glance to the paperwork on her desk. In preparation for the new release, all time-sensitive documents had been sent out. Still, guilt sent a pang through her chest.Against her better judgement, she opened the serial and began to read.

She had been thankfully wrong about Varric's narrative prowess. Where she expected Marguerite to be rescued by her new love, it was the knight-captain who needed rescuing. Drawing from the real Qunari invasion, a group of Saarebas and their masters attacked the Gallows. The templars slew most of them, but many men fell to force magic. The knight-captain would have been among the dead had Marguerite not arrived for a timely intervention.

Aside from the role reversal, the scene played out as one might expect. Aveline fought the urge to roll her eyes at all the dramatic swooning, though a part of her enjoyed the romantic spectacle. Only when the happy couple found themselves alone after the battle did the story grip her again.

Helping each other out of their armour was an exercise in patience. With the rush of battle surging through them, they tore at leather straps. They yanked at heavy chain. The touch of his strong, callused hands trailed fire over her waist. Marguerite shoved him against the nearest wall, her name on contact falling breathless from his lips.

Aveline's imagination filled in the blanks. Cullen replaced the faceless knight-captain, and she Marguerite. Whispers and touches came to her like apparitions tinged with guilt. She turned her head and shoulders away from her reading. Her whole body flushed, and she cupped her hand over her left peripheral. "Varric," she said as though he were there to be scolded. Her lips pursed, but slowly she mustered the courage—or curiosity—to lower her hand and look again.

"Don't you worry about me," she reassured him with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this a long time."

He shook his head and let it fall back against the wall. "It's not that. You nearly broke my back." She'd apparently forgotten her legendary strength.

Marguerite gave an apologetic look and followed it with a husky chuckle. "I'm sure I can make it up to you." With one hand pressed to the wall beside his head, her own rough fingers travelled down his broad shoulder and over his chest. Every muscle felt like it had been chiseled from the very rock that built the Gallows. A true warrior's body; she could appreciate that.

When she reached the waistline of his leather trousers, they shared a glance. Both leaned in for a bruising kiss, nearly clacking teeth. Marguerite pressed her body to his, pinning him tighter to the wall. She let her raised arm fall and curl over his shoulder. Their tongues wrestled for dominance, his only pausing to brush over her swollen bottom lip.

As she continued, her mouth ran dry. She swallowed only to be met with thick sand where her tongue had been. Heat began to rise from her skin. It crept into her softer, more private places. She didn't hear the first knock at the door, or the second.

Suddenly, it opened.

Aveline jumped at the sound. She dropped the booklet onto its face and covered it with
her hands.

Donnic stood in the doorway with his hand still on the knob. He scowled first at the
offending story, then at her. His brow creased, the lines in his forehead deepening. "Is this what you've been doing all this time?"

Aveline stuttered, but he cut her off.

His words grew more insistent as he continued. "You're barely out of your office, you're
never home, and this is it? You've just been—reading?"

The hurt in his tone wrenched her heart, but she shook her head. "No, of course not, dear." She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him that she'd been swept up in the fervour surrounding this story, that she wanted to have Varric taken away as an apostate – if anyone would believe a dwarf commanded magic. No words seemed to properly fit. The worst truth, that she'd begun to harbour feelings for another man, she refused to utter in the barracks.

Donnic seemed ready to burst at her dismissal, but instead he let out a long sigh. He loosened his grip on the doorknob. "What is it, then? Is being around me so terrible?"

She looked to the side, choosing her words. "It's not that. I just need to understand what's got everyone so worked up." Not entirely a lie, but certainly not truth either.

He seemed unconvinced, but let the issue drop. "Well, when you're ready to come back to reality, let me know. I won't wait up." He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving her thankful he made no further scene.

With a deep sigh, Aveline slumped against her desk and pushed the booklet away. She pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes tight. How did I let it get this far? I feel so bloody stupid. Colours and shapes burst behind her eyelids before she finally opened them and picked up an empty piece of parchment. I need to lay this to rest, she decided. It's already long out of hand. She dipped her quill in ink and began to write. Before she knew it, the ink had already dried.

Knight-Captain Cullen,

When you're next available, I'd like to speak to you personally. I'm afraid I can't give you the details in writing, but please trust the matter is of great importance.

Guard-Captain Aveline Hendyr

She tucked the serial away in her drawer before calling for a messenger to deliver the missive. The note carried no official seal, only a length of string to tie it together. Once the messenger was gone and the parchment with her, Aveline put her forehead down the desk. She let out a long, slow exhale, and closed her eyes.