A/N: A long chapter for all you readers, but I'll be away for a couple weeks so there will be a delay in posting the next chapter. Thank you for all the alerts and especially the reviews! Keep 'em coming please! Comments and suggestions are much appreciated. Many hugs and kisses to my friend, Biff McLaughlin, for working her beta magic. You rock! Biff has some awesome stories you should check out too.

There is also a bit of dom!Bran smut ahead.

Edit, 8/22: In case you're interested, I've added a new story to my listings - Release from the Chains: Missing Links. The first in a series of one-shots is up and it will include some moments between Finola and the people in her life. While trying to break through some writer's block, I thought it would be nice to have some back-story showing events that brought Bran and Finola closer together, as well as moments between Finola and Sebastian that complicated their relationship. The first one is set after Leandra's death. :)

It's Later than You Think

The first rays of daylight streamed through the only window in the room, beaming directly into Finola's eyes. Her face scrunched up and she rolled over, thrashing about irritably. "Maker, that's almost blinding. And for the love of Andraste, move your ass over, Bran!"

After she gave him a shove, he groaned his displeasure. "Good morning, my grouchy tigress." As always, her rosy scent wafted by his nose and he wondered how it never seemed to fade. Smiling at the thought, he nuzzled into her neck, sucking on her skin for a moment before releasing it with a 'pop'. "I'd almost forgotten what a pleasant experience waking up next to you can be when you haven't had enough rest."

An elbow to his ribs came with a steely glare. "Kiss my ass."

"Roll over."

"Oh really? I dare you, Bran Wyndham."

"Perhaps, if you ask nicely."

"Not a chance then," she said with a cheeky grin, and then stuck out her tongue.

"That tongue can be put to better use elsewhere, my dear." He stifled a yawn and found his lips turning up in amusement. The combined result was a grunt akin to that of a snoring dog, and Bran was immediately mortified by the sound.

Finola's smile was accompanied by a sharp jab of her finger to his chest. "Good. Is it humbling to know you're not so perfect, Serah High and Mighty?"

"No, but thankfully you are perfect, my sweet, compassionate little lady." He rolled his eyes. "I hate to bring this up given you current mood, but what now? Have you awoken with a plan?"

"No real plan yet. We'll need to go back to Kirkwall, get you back to work." She reached over and stroked his cheek. "And get you settled into our home."

He smiled. "I don't have much to bring back there anyway. Just some personal effects at my house."

"Good. One of the mercs will act as your bodyguard, just in case. And while you're doing that, I'm going to speak to Lord Walter briefly, just to secure a relationship. You never know when we'll need him."

"A practical move. I can come along if you like."

"No, no," she spoke up quickly. "We need to leave quickly. I'll meet you at your house after I meet him." She inched towards Bran, running her fingers along his shoulder. "You ride well, don't you? We've got horses at the stables so we should make good time getting back to Kirkwall."

"This might not be as miserable a trip as I'd thought." He smiled and gave her a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

"You know, I'll have to go to Starkhaven and tell Sebastian about this… about us. I owe him that much," she asserted, but surprisingly, he nodded in agreement.

"I understand, Fin. It's the decent thing to do. However, you will not go without a small army of your own to keep you safe... and me, of course."

"Oh no, you are not going to Starkhaven with me." She perched herself on her elbows and glared at him. "Are you insane? Sebastian will put your head on a pike! And I have no interest in defending you against him. That could get ugly very fast."

Equally annoyed, he sat up and leaned against the headboard, folding his arms over his chest. "This is one time where I refuse to give in to your foolish inclinations, Fin. I'm going and that's final."

"No it isn't! Just what do you think it will accomplish? I will go alone, tell him everything, and then leave. He won't harm me."

"I'm not going to argue with you now. But just know that I will be going and there is nothing you can do to change that fact."

"We'll see." She smirked and raised her hand to run a finger along his jaw, leaning in to kiss him. "I have a question for you, of a personal nature. Do you mind?"

"I have nothing to hide from you." His brows narrowed and he squinted for a moment. "Ask me anything."

"Magda said you had told her I was your wife who had died. When I heard that, I," she paused, swallowing hard, "well, first I felt sick to my stomach, and angry with myself, but when that passed, I wondered about Calista."

"You don't have to do this," he said. "She is my past, but you are my future."

"Are you uncomfortable speaking of her?"

"No, no. Lucan and I had talked about her briefly. He'd had some questions about the mother he never knew."

She saw his unease as he spoke of Calista. "Bran, I won't be offended by anything you say about her."

"I know," he nodded. "He looks likes her, has her passion, her love for all things wild and free." Bran sighed. "It had been a long time since I really spoke of her, but it was nice to reminisce with Lucan. Anyway, just remember, you and she are nothing alike."

Finola cracked her knuckles and then held tight to her forefinger. "Do you have a favorite memory of your time with her?"

"Are you really interested in this?" She nodded and intertwined her fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. Bran gazed off toward the hearth. "I remember the day I was arguing with Dumar about sending funds to Ferelden. Calista floated into the office like a butterfly on a breeze. Dumar sensed she wanted to speak with me privately and I took her to my office. She closed the door and practically tackled me to the ground with a hug," he laughed. "Then she took my hand, placed it on her stomach, and said 'Do you know what's in here?' Of course, I thought she was going to tell me about her lunch, as she often did," he chuckled again. "But she said 'Your son grows inside me. He'll be here by Springtide." He smiled warmly, a hint of sadness in his gaze.

"Oh, Bran. That must have been one of the happiest days of your life."

He looked at her, brushing a stray hair from her eyes. "One of them, yes. Little did I know what it took to care for an infant. Maker, I'm glad I don't have to go through that again."

"Oh? But what if… I mean it's possible… ah, forget it. I'm older now, and the chances of that happening are slim probably."

"I didn't think you had any interest in children, Fin. Would you want a child of your own?"

"No. Well… I don't know." Ruffling his hair idly, Finola gazed into his eyes. "I love you and I would want a child of yours. That's what married couples are supposed to do. But that would put a serious cramp in my style, right? Our style?"

"Children are an amazing gift, Fin, and you'd be a wonderful mother, I know that. I honestly would be happy to have a child with you, but…." He took a deep breath, treading carefully on the topic. "I've got a quite few years on you. I just wonder how an older man can be a dependable father, a father who will live long enough to see his child grow into an adult."

"Bran Wyndham, you are not an old man. Besides, you don't look your age at all." Finola's heart fluttered at the thought of Bran dying before her. She snuggled closer, trailing her fingertips down his chest to rest on his stomach. She was comfortable and relaxed in his arms and wouldn't ruin the moment with those kinds of thoughts. "We can talk about children another time. What I really want to know is if you have discovered the secret to eternal youth? Or is there some kind of blood magic I don't know about yet?"

"There are several ways to keep young in spirit as well as body. Shall I demonstrate?"

"You're changing the subject," she sang. "Although… I have awoken with a certain need." She reached down to stroke him, smiling at his obvious arousal. "And I think you'll agree that we should always take care of each other's needs."

"Ah Finola, the things I want to do to you… they are utterly immoral."

"Mmm, do tell." Just as her tongue made it past his lips, a thunderous knock on the door made them both jump.

"Up and at 'em, Hawke!"

"Varric," she whispered to Bran. "Go away!"

"We've got get a move on. Let me in, Hawke!"

"So much for depravity," she sighed, kissing Bran once more before throwing off the bed sheet. "All right! I'm coming!" She slipped from the bed mumbling curses and tossed on Bran's shirt, glad to see it was long enough to cover the most important parts of her bareness.

As the door opened, Varric grinned from ear to ear. "And a good morning to you, Hawke." He peered around her and nodded to Bran who was still lounging in bed. "You look better, Bran."

"I owe you my thanks, Varric. Actually, I owe you more than thanks. You saved my life, and for that, I am eternally indebted."

"She dragged me here. If it wasn't for Hawke's worries over you, you'd probably be dead. Thank her."

"Come on Varric, just say 'you're welcome' for once. You did have the one main ingredient we were lacking in."

"All right, all right." Varric glanced at Bran for a second. "You're welcome. So Hawke, we should really get out of this town, and soon."

"I agree. Oh shit! I need to write to Sebastian and tell him of my delay." She grabbed a parchment from her pack and quickly scribbled the note." Do you think I can trust the mercs to deliver it?"

"Well, I can tell you that I certainly won't deliver it. I value my life too much. Yeah, Sudz will do it, for the right price."

Handing the letter to Varric, she looked at Bran, glad to see him resting idly and not interfering. "Give him whatever he needs." She handed the note to Varric. "Does it sound all right?"

13 Drakonis

Dear Sebastian,

By now, you are expecting my arrival, but I'm sorry to report that I've had to postpone my trip because of some urgent matters. I should be able to leave sometime in the next few weeks, perhaps by the end of Cloudreach. I'm truly sorry for the delay.

Word travels to Kirkwall quickly and I hear you are quite popular with the people of Starkhaven. I knew they would love you, Sebastian.

Stay safe.

As always,

Finola

"Short and sweet. Although, he may wonder why you're being so… cool."

"I can't purposely put into words what I don't feel, Varric. I can't lie to him anymore."

Varric nodded, somewhat surprised by her honesty. But then again, she had chosen Bran. Maybe she was finally changing her ways. "I see you're taking a few extra weeks before departing to get reacquainted with your duties." He wiggled his eyebrows, and then stepped back, wondering if she might playfully hit him as she had in the past.

Instead, her eyes went soft, almost tearful. "Thanks, Varric, for everything." Finola swore she saw Varric's cheeks redden. She straightened up, sensing his unease with her sudden emotion. "Any interest in going to Starkhaven with me then?"

"In other words, you want me to save your ass from Choir Boy's wrath. Yeah, I'll go. But you're going to put me on your tab at the Hanged Man for a year!"

"Deal. We'll meet you at the stables in say, two hours."

Eight days later, they arrived in Kirkwall under cover of night. When Finola and Bran entered her house, Bodahn immediately accosted her and handed her several letters.

"Bran will be staying here from now on, Bodahn. And I'm reminding you of discretion in this matter."

"Of course, messere. I'll have a bath drawn up right away."

Finola nodded as Bodahn walked away, and then suddenly felt Bran's breath on her neck, his tongue leaving a hot trail as he traced up to nibble on her ear. "Can't we settle in first? You need a bath, as do I."

"I suppose." She grinned at his long-suffering sigh. "It's been over a week and I want you, my tigress."

"Maker, I couldn't agree more." She drew a deep breath and turned. Looking into his eyes, she set aside all thoughts of cleanliness for a moment and locked her arms around his shoulders, pressing herself to him. "Kiss me."

Their lips met hungrily and his hands reached for her backside, pulling her closer, urging her hips nearer. "A quick bath or I will take you right here, filth and all." Smiling, she grabbed his hand and they bounded up the stairs together.

While waiting for the last pails of water to be poured into the tub, Finola sat at her desk reading some correspondence when Bran heard a loud sigh. "What's wrong, Fin?"

"In the spirit of full disclosure, I'm showing you this." She handed him the letter and turned to wipe a stray tear from of her eye.

8 Drakonis

My dearest Finola,

I'm writing to tell you how much I miss you. I have been so busy, barely able to sleep with the many tasks at hand. The people here have been gracious, but there is much rebuilding and planning to do yet. The grain crops are abysmal and I've had to send workers to Tantervale to obtain more seed. Thankfully, the Minanter River is brimming with fresh fish. I wish you were here, my love. Nothing seems the same without you by my side, as you have always been.

I've no time for a letter of length, but know that you are here in my thoughts and dreams every moment. I love you, Finola. Always.

Ever yours,

Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven

P.S. There is someone special you will meet when you finally come to Starkhaven. It will be quite a surprise.

Bran clenched his empty fist and placed the letter on her desk. As she looked up at him, he wore an unreadable expression. "Hear me now, Fin. I insist I travel with you to Starkhaven. He will be… brokenhearted. And a man with that kind of grief can be a danger. Trust me, I know."

"Am I sensing something akin to sympathy on your part? That's shocking."

"You expected what? Jealousy perhaps? You and I are together, and that will never change." Bran took her hand and felt a slight tremble. "How can I not feel a little sympathy for the poor fool? Don't get me wrong. I have no love for the man, but I do fear for your safety. What about his friends? That elf and the so-called pirate will certainly side with him."

"They won't take up arms against me, Bran! Do you think they're a bunch of wildlings fighting for land rights? I'll be fine."

Finola rose and closed the door after Orana poured the last pail of steaming water into the bathtub. Sparing a glance at Bran, who was still a bit peeved, she stripped out of her underclothes and stepped into the tub. Sitting down, she allowed the water to soak away the dust from their travels as she closed her eyes to relax. Soft sighs came from her lips, and when she opened her eyes, Bran was hovering above the tub, staring down at her. "Avert your eyes, cad! You're leering at me."

"I am in fact leering at your nakedness," he grinned, "and I'll not look away under any condition." He sat on a chair beside her and poured some hot water over her head. "Hand me that soap and I'll wash your hair." Finola tossed the soap in the air and watched as he fumbled to catch the slippery bar. Once secured in his hand, he began to lather up her hair, albeit with a grunt of annoyance. "It's a wonder anyone has patience with you. You're like a child sometimes." Her small grin of delight was not unnoticed.

After scrubbing her scalp and hair, he dumped a bowlful of water on her head, letting some stream down her face. She didn't mind though. The water was incredibly soothing; she wouldn't have cared if an army was marching though her room.

"Mmmm... Massage. Now." She shook her shoulders to punctuate her request.

"And just who do you think you're speaking to? I'm not one of your lackeys!" he said with a phony scowl.

"But you claim to be in love with me. If you really were, you would not hesitate," she teased with a full-blown pout.

His hands flew to her face and pulled her to him, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. "My love for you is no joke, Fin. You know I hate when you say things like that." For a moment, the strength of his grip scared her, but in his eyes, she saw nothing but adoration. Silently, she berated herself. Their relationship was still somewhat new and untested, and obviously, Bran still harbored unspoken worries about it.

"I was only kidding, Bran." She took his hands and hugged them to her chest. "I'm sorry."

He blew out a frustrated breath. "Forgiven… This time." He was clearly bothered, and a part of him wondered if she still wasn't sure of his love for her. I'll have to work on that, he thought. And what better way to reassure her than to respond to her request. His strong fingers began to knead away the tension in her muscles, his fingertips hitting all the right pressure points. "When I seek payback, it will be sublime, tigress."

"Uh huh," she said, not quite listening to him.

A few more rubs at the back of her neck had her slouching wearily, so he splashed her face, and then laughed at her angry glare. "You're clean. Out now, before the water gets too cold and makes it difficult for me to have my way with you."

She chuckled as she stepped out and let him wrap a towel around her. "Yes, shrinkage would be bad," she giggled. After drying off, she threw herself onto her bed, their bed now she thought, and then spread herself out amongst the pillows. "Hurry up!"

Bran got into the tub and scrubbed himself, making sure not to miss any patches of skin or hair. Normally, he would linger in the tub, and maybe even doze off, but not this time. Finola was even surprised at the speed of his bath. He leapt out of the water, dried off and dove onto the cushy bed.

"Come here," he growled as he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

He held her tight, his body tense with longing, and she gave in, assaulting him, crushing her lips to his, her tongue seeking satisfaction. She clawed at his back and moaned, a deep sound from her throat. He responded in kind, grabbing her backside as his hips ground into hers. His arousal poked her and she reached down between their bodies to stroke him. When his breath caught in his throat, he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her fingers tenderly.

"You are as lustful as I am tonight, my tigress."

"As you said, it's been too long."

"What exactly are you interested in this evening? A little game perhaps?"

"Hmm, maybe. I could be… a wayward damsel guilty of some offense, serah." The feigned pout of remorse on her lips was more than enticing, and he pulled her closer at once.

"Admit your crime so I can make certain the punishment is fitting," he said lightheartedly while nibbling her ear.

"I will never confess," she breathed.

"No?" An eyebrow rose at that. "Then I shall have to beat it out of you."

"Mmm, that sounds… agonizingly divine. Shall I lay prostrate before you on the bed? Or would you like to put me over your knees?"

"My but you're a saucy girl tonight. I want you close… Over my knees, ass in the air. A little roughness and then I will ravish you like the goddess you are."

"Only a little?" she asked sheepishly. There was something in her eyes, something needy and wicked, and a thrilling lance of desire shot through him. But there was also something a bit disturbing in her gaze, almost an embarrassed plea for discipline.

"More?" he asked skeptically. Her cheeks reddened and she nodded, dropping her eyes to her lap. Immediately, he worried that she felt guilty for her previous treatment of him, or maybe even her future treatment of Sebastian. "You want me to hurt you?"

She shivered, her head bowing again, eyes aimed at the floor. "Yes," she whispered.

"If this is about any responsibility you feel for the last few months, then forget-"

"No! No, it's just… please, do as I ask. When you're in charge, taking pleasure in it, you are… amazing. It makes me quite randy, Bran."

"Are you sure, Fin? Absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I want to be… submissive. You remember that one night. I need to be, it's… it's freeing in its own way. Please?"

He nodded, thinking back to their first few encounters in bed. She had seemed to like it then, seemed to need it. He growled, rolling her onto her back and pinning her arms. "If you wish, my dear. What is the word you'd like to use then?"

"How about… cute," she said, and her eyebrows rose with a puckish grin. His wry yet feral smile made her back straighten and her heart race.

"Ah. That is more than enough to make me want to spank you, and enjoy doing so." He grabbed her wrists and pulled her forward, his lips on her mouth. "Lay across my lap, you naughty girl," he ordered with a tone that made her heart flutter.

She moved to do as commanded and he helped her along, flipping her over his knees and then giving her a sharp slap on her backside. She winced slightly and wriggled herself into position, then peered up to stare into his eyes awaiting instruction.

"Good girl," he praised, and she shuddered as the warmth of his hand caressed her backside. He brought his hand up and then back down quickly with a loud crack, and she jerked forward, her breath hissing through her teeth.

"Oh Bran, I feel like laughing! Why is that?" She did laugh then, finding it almost impossible to keep herself silent.

"That, my dear, is because you are nervous, because you know I'm just warming up. Your giggles will cease soon enough, of that, I am sure."

In fact, her laughing immediately stopped and turned into yelps and cries when he began in earnest. The first few times his hand connected with her flesh, he was restrained, testing the waters to see if she truly wanted this, but he saw the stars in her eyes when she looked up at him, swooning at his control over her as the sting began to spread tingles of desire to her core.

As the slaps became harder, she found it more and more difficult to stay still and quiet. After an intensely painful blow landed, she found herself gasping and squirming to move away from his reach. In response, he pushed her down, the strength of his hand on her back causing her hips to rise a little.

Suddenly then, his hands were holding her head, his fingers buried in her hair. He leaned over her, eye-to-eye so she could feel his warm breath across her face as he held his willing captive. The soft touch of his lips to her lips was pure and intimate, and she gave in, letting it all go, relaxing into his hands, floating.

Minutes slipped by until he pulled his head back, also feeling dizzy and hot with arousal, both of them groaning at the loss of contact. His hand did ache and he secretly wished to move on to more satisfying activities. "All you have to do," he whispered, "is say the word, and I'll pin you to this bed and fuck you blind, tigress."

But she shook her head. "Not yet," she said, falling deeper, the pangs of guilt releasing slowly. His palm curved over her firm cheeks as she panted against his stomach, giggles mixed with sobs in nervous excitement.

She couldn't see him wince when his hand came down hard again, so hard it stung his palm. This time her whole body reacted, shivering, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to relieve her aching arousal. Feeling thrilled, it swallowed her whole, making her forget the past, and the future, if only for a short time.

Wordlessly, he reached between her legs, running a thumb over her pulsing pearl, the sting of her skin making everything seem more intense. Finding her slick from desire, he smiled. She was entirely at his mercy, trusting him with her need, and he reveled in it.

A blush deepened on her cheeks as she realized she was well beyond aroused and she glanced up, not surprised that he was watching her reaction with lustful eyes. "Enjoying the view?" she asked.

"Did I say you could speak?" he growled, his voice low and stern.

"No," she said, and looked down at the floor.

"You are most disobedient, tigress. We shall have to remedy that." He dragged his fingertips over her, feeling the warmth of the rosy skin on her backside. Roughly, he pushed one of her legs to the side and slid his hand back to her inner thighs before plunging his fingers into her. She cried out his name as the sting resonated on her flesh. The feeling of his fingers curling within her, pushing in and pulling out quickly with bruising force, had her moaning incoherently.

"You like this, don't you?" his voice rumbled in her ear. "You are mine, Finola, and mine alone. No one else can make you whimper like this. And you please only me, whenever I tell you to, wherever I tell you."

She nodded, eyes glazed over with wanton lust. "Yes, Bran," she said through a watery smile.

"Do you want me to fuck you now, tigress? Are you worthy?"

"Yes, I am… I want," she panted, "… I want…." Her breathing grew ragged and her focus blurred as her head dropped in surrender, and Bran grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her head back sharply.

"You want what?" He looked at her. "Say it. Tell me exactly what you want."

"I want you… in me… please, Bran."

"Beg me."

"I… please, just… I want you… fucking me… hard. Please!"

With one last painful slap, she whimpered, "… cute," and the blows stopped. She reached back blindly with one hand, any pretense she tried to wear melting away. "…want you," she mumbled, her palm opening, searching for his hand. "Please, Bran… now."

He lifted her to his chest and tenderly wiped the tears from her face as they continued to stream down her cheeks. Her vision was blurry, but still, she could see the love in his eyes and she melted in his arms.

"Spread your legs for me, my lovely Finola. And I'll show you how much I want to be inside you, how much I love you."

The hands that had, minutes ago, been so forceful, were now incredibly tender. Tender enough that she pushed impatiently against them, only to feel the sheets on the bed scrape against her sore bottom. The strange yet pleasurable feeling of the warm sting made it impossible for her to last much longer. The pain was sharp enough that she dug her fingers into the bed, but combined with his hands, the pleasure was so intense that she had to bite her lip to keep from crying loud enough to alert the entire household.

Before she could react, he drove into her with wild abandon. She rocked forward into his grip, and he whispered, "Does it feel good?"

"…Feels incredible."

Bran worked himself in and out, hard and sharp, and for a moment she didn't even recognize the pain until the pleasure hit her all at once. Lights danced in front of her eyes as she moaned, peaking when his lips found hers. She panted into his mouth, "I love you, Bran," as the waves of pleasure swept her away and then back to him. He kissed her lovingly, caught up in his own release.

Spent, Bran fell back, sprawling, and he pulled her over to him, wrapping his arms around her and she rested her head on his chest. "I love you, too," he told her.

"I know you do," she said, smiling. And just like that, all the worries she'd had about Bran discovering what she'd tried so hard to keep hidden came the surface in a burst of tears. "I'm so sorry, Bran… I'm sorry I hurt you…. I never meant for you to leave Kirkwall and you suffered so much in Markham, and for years I led you on. I'm so stupid, and-"

"What? No! Do not say that, never apologize again." Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over. "Please, Fin, this is not how I… you have done nothing wrong."

"I'll never let you go again," she avowed desperately.

"And I'm not letting go either." He squeezed her hand. "But you mustn't fool me into doing something like this. I would never have done it under these conditions."

"It was selfish of me... I didn't really mean to be dishonest. Forgive me."

"Promise me, Finola, promise me you will never seek chastisement this way ever again." She swallowed hard as he gazed into her uncertain eyes. "Swear it, damn you! Or I'll… I'll not speak to you for a week!" She smiled at that, and then he did as well. "All joking aside, I'm serious about this, Fin. That was completely unjustifiable and a bit disturbing. That you wouldn't trust me enough to tell me what you were thinking makes me so damn mad. You know I would never judge you. Promise me now."

"I promise, Bran. I wasn't really thinking, by the way, I was just acting on impulse and… it did make me feel somewhat better, if you can believe that." She palmed his face and kissed him sweetly. "What's wrong with me, Bran? Sometimes I feel like I'm living another person's life, like this is all just a cruel joke and you'll leave me once you know who I truly am or what I want, what I'm capable of, and then you'll hate me."

"You are mistaking me for another man, perhaps. Never be ashamed of what you need or want, not with me. I know you better than you know yourself at times," he said with an edge of concern in his voice."

"You don't think me… depraved or just plain weird?"

"There is nothing wrong with you, Fin. You like the excitement and headiness of a little roughness in your lovemaking and that should never be tempered. Nor should you be ashamed. But the guilt you feel is another thing. Guilt is a wasted emotion, Fin. Clear away that veil of guilt and you'll enjoy what you are experiencing, knowing what your thoughts and actions really mean."

"Speaking from experience?"

He nodded somberly. "I am yours, Finola. Nothing you can ever do or say will change that."

She had almost lost him once because of her impulsivity, and her fears, but she wasn't going to risk losing him again. "I love you," she said, hushed and breathless. "Love you, love your hair, your eyes, and your sarcasm and pompous wit. And I love being like this with you." She kissed him again, demanding and possessive. "No one has ever made me feel so special before, and so normal."

"You are special. Never forget that." His gaze was softer than any she had ever seen before. "What am I going to do with you?"

In answer, she stroked his manhood and then straddled his hips, impaling herself on him eagerly. She still felt the sting on her skin, but with her in control, she knew she could adjust positions to lessen the burn, not that she wanted to. "Right now, I'm going to make love to you, and when that's done-"

Hands flying up to her head, he pulled her face to his and kissed her silent. Then he kissed her quiet every time she opened her mouth to speak, until he began to pant. He looked up at her with those loving, honey-colored eyes and together, they sailed blissfully beyond the walls of their room to a place meant only for entangled lovers.

Several relaxed minutes passed and Bran reached for a vial on a nearby table. "Time to heal you, tigress."

She rolled over with a grin, silently admiring Bran's foresight. "Ouch! Maker, go easy on me."

"You want to do this yourself then?"

"No, just… ach! Don't press so hard."

"Who's whining like a baby now, hm?" The red patches covering her backside were undeserved in his estimation and he tenderly applied the healing salve, smoothing over her skin with feather-light strokes. "Promise me again."

"I promise! Ach!" She shifted slightly, the pain burning her skin, searing like a red-hot poker. "That salve stings, damn it! This better heal fast."

"It will." When he finished, he pressed a light kiss to the one spot on her bottom that had no marks from their sport. "Better?" he asked as he laid his head on the pillow to meet her eyes.

"Yes, but what's even more satisfying is that I've finally gotten you to kiss my ass, Seneschal Bran."

"Oh, you little," he stopped as laughter bubbled up from his throat and came out in peals of chuckles. "You know I truly love you, Finola."

She nodded with a somber look in her eye. "Three short weeks and I'll be off to Starkhaven."

"We'll be off to Starkhaven."

"You bloody stubborn man."

"Pig-headed impulsive woman."

Finola kissed him then, kissed him as if her life depended on it.

"Ambush!" Finola shouted as she watched their only mage take his last breath, shot down in a hail of arrows.

She spun around, her blades flashing like lightning. Blood splattered the ground and her armor as she cut down the bandits, one after another. The mercenaries cleaved heads from shoulders in a bloody display of strength, and at that moment, Finola was extremely glad she had allowed Bran to hire extra men to accompany the handful of templars Cullen had offered to send on the trip with them. Conveniently, they were sent as a diplomatic envoy at Cullen's suggestion, an offer Finola could not refuse.

Varric crept up alongside her once the general vicinity was clear. "Wasn't expecting that!"

"Neither was I. Can you get to the back and protect Bran in case this happens again?" Varric nodded. "And please don't give him a detailed dramatic story, all right? Keep him back there no matter what. You hear me? No matter what! We're not far from Starkhaven, maybe another thirty minutes or so. Take Bran to an inn and I'll catch up later. Bran and I have already discussed my plans and he's agreed to let me speak with Sebastian alone."

"Will do, boss lady. What if Bran gets antsy?"

"Under no conditions should he be allowed to leave your side. He promised me he'd behave and I believe him. But… well, if things change, knock him out or something. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. The things I do for you… Be careful, Hawke!" Varric sprinted towards the back of the lines, a half-mile away from where Finola led the group.

Blood and body parts lay all around as the last of the bandits went down and Finola surveyed the damage. A mercenary eyed her leathers, noticing a fair amount of blood below her armor. "You're bleeding, Hawke."

The pain in her side was sharp, and she winced as she tried to draw a deep breath. After inspecting the wound, she glared at him. "Nothing major, Jon. Just a flesh wound, all right?" she hissed. He shook his head just before movement to his side caught his eye. Landing a solid blow to the attackers' groin, the last of the assailants bent over in anguish just before Jon's sharp blades disemboweled him.

Finola watched his bloodletting display, but her vision grew hazy, and the grip she held on her blades released as she collapsed to the ground. Jon dashed to her side and immediately pulled a healing potion from his pack, pouring it down her throat. She sputtered a cough, but most of the liquid went down, and then her eyes opened slowly.

"On the horse with you, Hawke. I'll hold onto you, if you don't mind."

"Yes… thanks, Jon… Owe ya." And with that, he hoisted her atop the horse and then mounted himself, holding her close as he kicked the horse's flanks.

"We're only an hour from Vael's, Hawke! And then you'll have a right good healin' from the royal healers!"

Bouncing on the back of the horse in Jon's tight grip, she was semi-conscious but aware of the pain in her chest. Finola had the one person she needed most on her mind. Please let me live long enough to see him once more.

Jon lifted Finola off the horse and cradled her in his arms, blood soaked linens wrapped around the armor on her chest. Muffled sounds broke through the pain and she heard Fenris' voice. "Maker, she's lost so much blood. How did this happen?"

"Stop your staring and call for your healers straight away, man!" Jon ordered, his voice rough as he gazed at Finola's pale face. "We were ambushed. She's been slipping in and out of consciousness for that last half hour."

One of her eyes opened to look upon Jon's face, a trembling hand coming up to touch his chest. "Did Varric go… to the inn?" she murmured.

"Aye, and he took the other one too," he whispered with his head close to her ear. "I threw a blanket over ya and he was none the wiser. Told him you were already inside the castle. Don't worry, Hawke, we know the deal."

Thank the Maker. "Don't let them come. Promise me…." He nodded. "You're a good man, Jon."

"I do my best."

"…better than your best." A pained smile graced her lips before he eyes began to flutter closed again. "Thank… you."

Fenris approached Jon and reached his arms out to take Finola, but Jon held her possessively, glaring at Fenris as he told him to lead the way into the castle.

They walked down a wide cobbled road through the landscaped courtyard abloom with hundreds of flowers, a large fountain flowing in the center. Jon spoke to Finola, describing their surroundings, in hopes she would hear him and stay somewhat conscious. "Now we are almost inside Vael's castle, the River's Mist, some call it. Calling it Vael Castle is boring and hardly lends to scary stories of witches and goblins. It's built of grey stone and set beside the river Minanter. If you breathe deeply, you can you smell the water, Hawke." Jon watched as her eyes opened once, recognition plain in her gaze. She could hear him and that made him smile.

When they finally made their way into the castle proper, Sebastian came at them full speed. Jaw dropping, he muttered something obscene and took her from Jon's arms with a fierce look. He quickly brought her to a lavish, private room with a sweet fragrance reminiscent of incense hanging in the air. The room was adorned with intricate tapestries, but one wall was mostly obscured by floor to ceiling bookshelves. The floor was tiled with grey marble, and on the windows hung lacy white curtains blowing in the mild breeze coming off the river. Jon had never seen anything so elegant and opulent in his life. As he admired the room, Sebastian's shout drew all eyes to the Prince. "Everyone out but the mages!" And so Jon left reluctantly, off to get news of Finola to Varric.

Carefully, Sebastian arranged Finola on the four-poster bed, the blood from her bandages seeping onto the stark white sheets.

A new acquisition for the castle was a grey-haired mage, Dorinda, who immediately sat beside Finola and tended to her injuries. Sebastian had sent envoys to Denerim looking for skilled healers to relocate to Starkhaven. Dorinda had been a well-respected healer for the Chantry, and she jumped at the chance to leave the hustle and bustle of Denerim behind in favor of a simpler life as she got on in years. She had only been at the castle a few days, but Sebastian had confided in this woman he saw as a mother figure, telling her about the love of his life, Finola.

Dorinda's hands hovered over Finola's chest for a moment before her fingertips ran lightly across her bloodied skin. "Punctured lung, several cracked ribs," she paused to drink another vial of lyrium, "various cuts and abrasions, but she'll recover. Her blood will replenish in a few days. More importantly, the babe still thrives."

"Babe?" He had been watching Finola's chest rise and fall with ragged breaths, and now Sebastian's eyes flew to the mage. "As in… is she with child?"

Dorinda began to cut away the crimson wrappings as her young apprentice prepared new bandages laden with a healing poultice. "Oh, you didn't…? Congratulations, Prince Vael," the mage smiled.

"I… what? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I couldn't tell if it's a boy or a girl. I can't have any more lyrium just yet."

"Oh… oh my, the Maker has blessed us." Consumed with joy, it took him a few minutes to appreciate what the mage had told him. "As soon as you are able, come back and tell us if it's a son or daughter, and when to expect the babe."

She nodded with a grin. "She's several weeks along, I think," she paused, staring back at those proud azure eyes. "Should be easy enough to predict when I return."

Sebastian gazed at Finola's peaceful face, the color slowly coming back to her cheeks. His eyes skirted down to her stomach, his brows narrowing in thought. "Why can I not see," he swallowed, a slight blush creeping up his neck as he questioned the mage. "I mean, shouldn't she be showing some by now?"

"Some women hardly look with child at this stage. I can assure you, a babe grows inside your betrothed, Prince Vael. I'll give you a more definite timeframe when I return."

Sebastian smiled. "She will be so very happy, as am I." He turned to the mage. "Thank you, Dorinda. You may leave."

As the mage turned to go, the door flew open and a young man paced into the room and addressed Sebastian. "Who is this woman? Are you all right? I heard there was a commotion in the courtyard."

"I'm fine, Arthur." Sebastian gazed down at the ring Finola had given him. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with emotion and fought back the tears of joy, inadvertently mixed with apprehension. "This is my… she's… Finola Hawke."

"You're betrothed?" The chestnut-haired young man came up behind Sebastian and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We have the best healer in all of Starkhaven. She'll be fine."

"Yes, yes. Dorinda has assured me the same." Sebastian turned to Arthur and clapped him on the shoulder. "It seems you are to be a big brother as well, Arthur. Finola is carrying my child."

"Wonderful news, Father!" Arthur tightened his arms around Sebastian in a bear hug. "We must have you married then, as soon as she's able, or this will turn even more scandalous than your acknowledging me as your son."

"Yes. Can you arrange something with the Chantry for me?" Arthur nodded. "I also need you to find Fenris and tell him to fetch the dwarf, Varric Tethris. I have a few questions for him."

"And where shall he look? Will he be in town or camped outside the walls?"

"Tell him to try the inns first, and tell him," Sebastian clenched his teeth as he gripped his son's shoulders, "to tear apart Starkhaven if need be, as long as he brings me Varric before nightfall."

"Right away." Arthur made to turn away from Sebastian, but then looked back at him, his eyes shining the same blue as his father's. "We will be together as a family. You, Finola, and me, and your little one."

"From your lips to the Maker's ears, Arthur." Sebastian regarded his son with a determined stare. "One more thing before you go… summon the Antivan to my study."

Arthur nodded once. "I'm so delighted for you, Father. Nothing will stand in the way of our happiness. Nothing."

"I agree."

Arthur strode out as Isabela walked in, looking quite perplexed. Sebastian held up his hand to stop the flurry of questions he knew she was about to run off.

"Stay with Finola, please. I'll be back in a little while." Moving next to the bed, he knelt on one knee and took Finola's hand. "Everything will be fine, love, I'll make sure of it." A soft moan came from her lips as he applied a cool cloth to her forehead. Her eyes cracked open slightly and Sebastian smiled at her. "There's my beautiful girl. Can you hear me, Fin?"

"Mmn… Seb… where… brown?"

"Brown?"

"Wind… where?"

"Shh, love. I don't know what you're asking but you need to rest. Here," he said placing a vial to her lips. "Sip some and then you will sleep. I'll be back soon."

With all her strength drained, she couldn't fight the liquid as it dribbled into her mouth. Once swallowed, another moan escaped her lips. "No drink… need… brown," she moaned as she slipped back to sleep. Sebastian placed her hand on her stomach and rose up to meet Isabela's pinning glare.

"I know why you want to talk with him, Seb, but you must keep a clear head." Isabela pulled up a chair to sit next to the bed. "Things aren't always as they seem."

"I hope not, for her sake." Sebastian stalked off to his study, and Isabela shook her head as she stared at Finola.

"Never a dull moment with Hawke around, conscious or not," she mumbled to herself. Isabela laid the damp cloth on Finola's forehead and sighed. "I wonder what you've been up to that's made our Prince so incensed, and so in need of my friend's special skills?"