Author's note:

Thanks again to all you guys, especially Tokugawa Blitzer (man, I LOVE our chats), for taking the time to read and review.

Definitely a lighter and shorter chapter here. And more Varric!

So my latest crush is on Gillian Anderson, and I saw this fabulous quote from her in season 2 of The Fall (it's a Brit cop miniseries. It's decent for the most part, but she's the broody star that carries the show):

[Jim Burns: Why are women so much more emotionally and spiritually stronger than men?

Stella Gibson: Because the basic human form is female. Maleness is a kind of...birth defect.] - This. This is gold.

P.S. I can't figure out a way to have the doc manager import the strikethroughs that we can use in Word. Anyone know how to do this?

Flowery Reprieve

(Carlyle/Clarence/Carlton) Calhoun's preferred station was beside her bed as she recovered her strength. When he wasn't attending impromptu meetings with his equally accomplished colleagues, or feeding and assessing strategic information to his troops, he would quietly slip away into (Eglantine/Elise) Esmeralda's tent. Once inside, he would hastily snuffed out the oil lamp and wrapped himself within her silken embrace. The pair would sink deep into the ardent passions of one another and give themselves utterly to the night (Note: expansive elaboration found on page sixty-nine).

For the moment, the affair was locked behind tight lips. Both were seasoned warriors, but whilst one commanded a small legion, the other held the hopes and dreams of the masses. It was probable that some would see the liaison as frivolous, irresponsible even, but then what did this such critics know of the nature of love?

Calhoun, with his golden halo-like nimbus of hair and Esmeralda, with her midnight, raven locks, could not have been more different – both in appearance and personality. He was ice to her fire, calm to her storm. They had a history together, possibly as tumultuous as their present. They were inexorably drawn together – as a key had been designed to fit a distinct lock. Despite any past misgivings, it was inevitable that neither could exist without the other.

If only affairs of the heart were as simple for Aldous and (Dumbledore?) Dominic. After Aldous' safe return from an arduous battle, Dominic was quick to inquire after his well-being personally. Aldous spurned his attentions coolly. But Dominic, whose underlying qualities were rather patient, gave his would-be lover a wide-berth. These were trying times after all. (Note: Bland. Mostly conjecture and filler. Need to expand.)

Given their group's most recent loss of a sanctuary that they'd called home, they found themselves adapting to a nomadic lifestyle. Displaced and lost in more ways than one, it was becoming evident that their cause was fracturing at its core. But the dawn always followed the night, and their silver lining came in the guise of their companion, Sonata, the striking Elven mage. Formally part of Dalish clan, her sapphire eyes and thick coils of auburn (or perhaps starlight) hair framed her delicate features. She was an expert on the realm of dreams and had served as an advisor of sorts to the group's leaders. In her rich, luxurious tone, she had informed them that a more fortifiable, and larger, domicile awaited them in stretch of the Fireback Mountains. The Fortress once belonged to the Dalish, and had changed hands frequently throughout the centuries. It was now forgotten and abandoned. And perhaps it was time that they claim it for their own. (Note: Too flowery? Last editor advised concision and brevity. Rephrase.)

The future was looking up, and even so, Aldous maintained a safe distance from potential happiness with Dominic. (Note: A is curiously mum on the matter. Might have lost a lover to another or something worse. Must pump E for more information while intoxicated.)

Amidst it all, and quite oblivious to the romantic entanglements that surrounded her, lay Lady Seraphina. Formerly a...

"What're you writing?" called a scratchy voice from the cot.

Varric looked up from reams of vellum, and wiped the end of his quill on the rim of the ink pot. He then blotted any excess smudges on a scrap of stained cloth. "Oh, you know. My last will and testament."

Evangeline propped herself up on her elbows and eyed the robust stack of parchments questionably. "I didn't know you were the sole heir to numerous estates."

Varric exhaled and swerved off topic. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better. It hardly hurts when I breathe out anymore." She glanced at a pitcher seated on a barrel by her bed and grimaced. "Mother Giselle's healer wants me to imbibe some vile concoction though. I can't keep much of anything down because of it."

Varric conceded a conciliatory smile. "If there were tavern a nearby, I'd buy you several rounds. Everything tastes wretched coming back up, but at least this way it'd be more pleasant going down." He rose from the rickety chair, sniffed the empty pitcher and wrinkled his nose in disdain. "The Chantry has a knack for making anything and everything taste bad – I'll give them that."

Evangeline pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded in the direction outside the tent. "How're things on the other side? Cul – the Commander says that we may finally have someplace to go. Do we have Solas to thank for that?"

Varric grinned as she strived to downplay her relationship with Cullen. For the moment, only a few were privy to this knowledge. That, paired with their current vagrancy, pushed all thoughts of tongue-wagging onto a back-burner. But once they'd found a place to settle down in security, people would begin to court idle fancies once more. He was sure of it.

"Yes we do," he said finally, "although – according to Leliana and our illustrious Seeker – we still have a long road ahead. Your survival has bolstered moral, however. If people weren't certain you were the Herald before, they're sure of it now."

She had unconsciously adopted Cullen's curmudgeonly glower as her own. "And here I thought sliding down the gullet of an Archdemon was bad."

He gave her an inconsequential wave of the hand. "Stop being so fatalistic, kid. There are worse things than being a beacon of hope to the multitudes." He cocked his head to one side, "Of course, there are better things as well, but let's be glass-half-full with this one. You've got Josephine to politick and keep up appearances. Cassandra to bully your enemies into submission and your friends to round up for few pints at the end of the day. You're not walking a lonely road. And as for your Commander, he may have to tack on bed-warming to his list of duties."

Evangeline promptly flushed a deep pink. "What? We're not...he isn't my...Andraste's knicker-weasels – does the whole world know?"

He patted her gently on the back. "Relax. Just a few of us. And it's not like we're going to condense your love affair into a pulp novel and sell it en masse."

Evangeline lowered her brows in mild disbelief. Her gaze flicked to the reams of paper on the narrow desk and then back on the dwarf. Was he being sarcastic or...?

"Anyway, I came to see if you wanted to get out from under this stuffy tarp and take a walk outside. You know, breathe in the mountain air and all that crap. It'd do you some good. Would bring some colour into your cheeks. But I have to say that talking about your beau seems to have the same effect."

She flung daggers at him with her eyes. "You may be my favourite author, Tethras, but I do have limits to my tolerance."

Varric let out a loud laugh. "Now you're starting to sound just like our Seeker!"

As the evening wore on, Cullen wandered into Evangeline's tent feeling considerably lighter and more confident about their prospects. Granted, they still had to contend with a High Priest who once served Old Gods like Dumat and who wished to re-forge the world anew, but with a potential fortress at their disposal, they were a sight better than they had been only a day ago.

The lamp beside her bed had whiffed out. He struck a match and relit it. He glanced around her temporary abode but she was nowhere to be seen. A stack of papers, weighted down by a metal tin lay on a table near the tent's entrance. He didn't know that she maintained a journal. Or wrote, for that matter. With furrowed brows, he approached the reams of vellum.

Just a cursory glance, he promised himself. One peek and he would back off.

Head angled to one side and oil lamp in one hand, he studied the flowing, longhand script that graced the pages. This was definitely not her handwriting.

Before he knew it, his eyes had wandered well past the first paragraph.

Calhoun? Esmeralda? And what the blasted hell was on page sixty-nine? These were the feeblest noms de guerre he'd seen in his lifetime. Tethras. He had to behind this. Cullen scuttled towards the flap of the tent and thrust his head out. All the people in sight were beginning nightly preparations, and Evangeline was not among them. He ducked back in.

He quickly grabbed the entire stack of papers, and sat on the edge of the cot. He flipped through each numbered page until he reached what he was looking for.

He took in the smutty language with widening eyes. Oh Maker. What Calhoun was doing with Esmeralda – he didn't even know that one could do that! And what she did to him – was that even possible? So many...variations. And this was just a prelude to the actual deed. Andraste give him strength. He read on. After five minutes and six pages later, a very pale Cullen clutched the corners of the vellum with sweaty hands.

How in the world was he supposed to sleep next to her tonight after...this?

He needed a repugnant distraction, so he summoned to mind the image of maggots and flies. His upper lip curled in distaste. Yes, that's what he would do should Varric's words attempt to seize control.

Or perhaps he should keep reading?

The tone of voices outside the tent presented him with the answer he needed.

He bounded up hastily and quickly tackled the business of returning the papers to their original position before he'd launched his eyes upon them.

But it was the Seeker who wandered towards him. She appraised his presence with less suspicion and more amusement these days. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"Oh, Commander. I didn't expect to find you here." But the Seeker's eyes twinkled back at him.

"Uh...just checking in. That's all."

She rolled her brown eyes heavenwards. "I have don't have the patience to pretend. Look, I came to give Evangeline this," she handed him a mid-sized canteen of liquid and a crumpled, fraction of parchment. "But since you're here, checking in and all, it might as well be you. Before she faced Corypheus, she wanted me to give you this. She said she knew about the lyrium-withdrawal and that this...stuff helped her get through it. I know you've personally asked me to keep a wary eye on your condition, but now that...you know –"

"No, I don't know!" said Cullen abruptly, a mite louder than he'd intended.

"Oh would you stop being so bashful!" reproached Cassandra, as she strived to pin him in place with her gaze. "You're like a virgin maiden, the way you bat your eyes at our Herald. For those who know you, it really isn't that hard to see. So give us some credit and cease these ridiculous demonstrations."

"I am not a...a maiden!"

The Seeker snarled at him. "Whatever. It doesn't seem fitting that I remain the only person to see you through your trials. You'll have to rely on her first, and me second." She moved towards the cramped desk and placed the flask directly adjacent to Varric's documents.

"What's this?" she queried softly as she peered at the rough work.

"Nothing!" said Cullen as he strived to place himself bodily between the parchments and the Seeker.

She brushed him aside roughly. "This isn't Evangeline's handwriting." And following a few moments, "Silken embrace...? This is Varric, isn't it. That depraved little worm." Yet she kept reading. After she'd finished the first page, she flipped it over and continued to read.

"Cassandra, we really shouldn't..." protested Cullen meekly.

"Why not? I assume that you've already read whatever's on page sixty-nine."

That shut him up good.

To his surprise, she let out a delighted chuckle. "He made Solas a woman!" She slapped her thigh and continued to laugh heartily. "That devil. Now where am I in this tawdry mess? No doubt he would paint me as the archdemon or somesuch."

The wind carried the sounds of closing chatter in their direction. Both the Seeker and the Commander leapt back.

Evangeline and Varric traipsed in. She was still endeavoring to mask a slight limp that arose from a fractured rib, but for the most part, she was almost back to normal. Varric gave the Commander an insightful half-grin and winked at Cassandra.

She responded with the briefest hint of a smile. But her left hand rested lightly against his writings, and it took the dwarf a solid moment to recognize the diabolical undercurrents beneath her amusement.

His face promptly grew solemn and alarmed. He stepped towards his work and tucked the parchments under his arm. He wordlessly marched out the tent.

Cassandra regarded Cullen and the pair relinquished mild chuckles.

"What's going on?" asked Evangeline.

"Perhaps the next time you happen across our resident author, you should ask him what preoccupies his busy evenings," suggested Cassandra as she placed an arm on the girl's shoulder and bid her goodnight.

Evangeline pivoted in perplexity towards Cullen. "What the hell is she on about?" And then, she glanced at the now-empty desk, and a flash of comprehension crossed her eyes. She smiled equally devilishly to herself. "Last will and testament – my foot. Did you know that yesterday – in my fevered delirium – he was asking me what I'd said to Corypheus? Give me your exact words, is what he'd asked until the healer shoved him out. I remember though. The brilliant little bastard."

He does have his moments, thought Cullen to himself as the readings on page sixty-nine flooded into mind.

Maggots and flies!

Cullen massaged his temples.

"Are you alright?" said Evangeline in concern as she limped towards him.

"Uh...yes."

She touched his temple briefly with her hand. His temperature seemed normal. More than a little tired, she sat down on the bed with her legs crossed. "Look, Cullen. I don't really know exactly when you left the Templars, but Adric and I know how bad it can get. There was something that I asked Cassandra to give –"

"I...know," he said and picked up the canteen that the Seeker had left for him. "She told me." He held it up and examined it.

"Asogen gave it to me a long time ago. It's not a miracle cure-all. It will probably take frequent consumption for at least a year before you can experience its full effects. But I'll tell you, there were days when neither of us could make it out of bed. A few sips and the intensity lessens somewhat." She reached out and held his hand, pulling him down beside her. "We call it our Go Juice. Because when we stop, it makes us go. Just a little joke."

"Go juice," repeated Cullen softly. And then, slightly taken aback, "It's a laxative?"

She laughed affectionately at him. "I...never saw it that way. But now that you mention it...and er...no. It's not going to make you go. Not in that sense at any rate. But I wanted to tell you that, if ever you feel that you can't handle the pain anymore...you can always come to me. I know I can be abrasive and I'm not the best person to seek solace in, but I care...I love you. And I get, well, protective."

He gave her a sideways glance and slipped his arm around her. "I know."

She craned her neck and brushed her lips against his earlobe. He found himself stiffening while tightening his arm around her at the same time. Reacting purely on impulse, his breath hitched, he turned his head and pushed his mouth up against hers. The fact that she no longer pulled away and yielded to him made his heart beat faster. With lidded eyes, he allowed for his hands to move upwards from her back and into her hair. All this – the smell and the taste of her – brought back the memories of the feel of her skin against his chest...

...and Varric's blasted prose.

"Oh, Maker," he moaned, eyes still closed.

"What's wrong?"

He pulled away, his head in his hands. "You asked me to promise to take it slow."

"Is...there something wrong with snogging...? You've never let it stop you before." she ventured gently.

"It's not that."

"What is it, then?"

He shook his head and made as if to stand up. "Maybe I need some fresh air."

Evangeline fiercely yanked him back down. "Talk to me."

"Page sixty-nine," he muttered with his palm against his forehead. "I read page sixty-nine through to page seventy-five."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Smut – alright? Smut, smut, smut! I read the most lewd drivel I've read in my entirely life!"

Evangeline raised a pair of reverently amused hands to her mouth. "Maferath's balls. Who was it? Did he write about Adric and Dorian? It was them, wasn't it?"

"Us, Evie. It was us." He swallowed.

All trace of yearning curiousity vanished from her visage. She looked away, as if contemplating something. And then, with a lopsided, cheeky smile, she sidled closer to him and placed her chin on his shoulder. "Was it good? I mean, were we any good?"

Cullen pushed her away playfully and laughed despite himself.

She went on. "Well? Do you remember what he wrote? I need to know everything. Verbatim."

He coloured. "I will most certainly not repeat it."

She gave him her most impish smile. "I'll make you. Oh, maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon. You'll tell me everything." She reached out and tweaked his nose fondly. "So. Does this mean you'll be giving me a wide berth from now on?"

Cullen gently flicked her ear. "No...not unless you want me to. And perhaps this isn't exactly the time or place for...you know."

Evangeline flopped down on the bed. "Well, good. Because I, for one, am exhausted."

"Too exhausted to even remove your boots, it seems," he mumbled as he began to unlace her footwear.

He placed them neatly beside her bed and took off his armor. After he'd changed into his nightclothes, she was already asleep and snoring softly. He lightly moved her over so that he could fit next to her. Evangeline rolled onto her side and he tenderly traced the outline of her body from thigh to jawline. A languid smile crept across his face. He found himself kissing the nape of her neck and breathing her in.

He opened his eyes and pulled back, wrapping an arm around her instead.

Andraste preserve him, this wasn't going to be easy.