A/N: Thar be smut ahead!

Solona won the Proving with little trouble. Even though she had only been wielding her weapons for a few months, she was incredibly skilled, and accustomed to fighting opponents much larger and stronger than she was. It took her some time to adjust to fighting someone shorter than her, rather than taller than her, but after being knocked over a few times she adjusted, beating every opponent she was put up against. She had been worried about not being able to use magic – it was against the rules, and besides, dwarves were largely immune to magic anyway – but she had spent plenty of time fighting without it while sparring with Sten and Alistair, so it didn't end up being a problem the way she had feared.

Alistair joined her for a few of the fights, along with the fighters they had convinced back to Harrowmont's side. It was different, fighting alongside warriors with no special skill except brute strength. She preferred their eclectic party of mages, warriors, and assassins, but that obviously wouldn't do in a competition such as this. It was strange, fighting against opponents bent on beating her, but not on killing her, and yet were not her friends. But it was a strangeness she did not focus on for more than a moment, as she was far too busy fighting.

She had been celebrated quite thoroughly after the competition. The Proving had been an all-day affair, and Solona really only wanted to sleep after she had finished. She felt she had earned it, thoroughly trouncing so many muscular dwarves with her sword, the daggers she still had from her cousin, and her speed. But the dwarves at the inn insisted upon drink after drink, until she was well and truly drunk. Leliana had led her off to bed sometime around midnight, where she had promptly fallen asleep, without even removing her boots.

Now, she lay awake, a naked Leliana curled up next to her under the blankets. Pushing the covers off, she slipped out of bed, smoothing the blankets and inviting Max up next to the bard to keep her warm. Lighting a candle, she smiled as she walked across the cool stone floor of the room – Leliana had removed her boots for her – and made her way to the tub built into the stone in the corner. She was fascinated as she drew a bath for herself, turning a knob and watching as the water was drawn through piping and into the bath. The first time she had sworn it was magic, but someone had explained to her how it worked, and she realized that it was simply an incredible amount of ingenuity. She learned all she could, Alistair teasing her for not truly being able to leave her Circle tendencies behind.

As she peeled off her rather filthy clothing – what she had worn under her armor the day before – and stepped into the warm water, she thought about this some. She really was an intensely curious person, and always had been. While she still bitterly resented her chained upbringing in the Circle, the fact remained that it was quite possibly the only place that she was able to indulge in her curiosities and live a life of scholarly pursuit, particularly given her peasant background. She wondered what the Circle might look like had Andraste's vision been born into reality. It was difficult to picture, though, as it would mean a fundamental difference in the way their very society operated.

Sighing, she finished washing, staying in the water far longer than necessary, just to relax and ease the aches from the injuries she had sustained the day before. She had healed all of it with no problems between matches, but the bruising remained, as it always did. The hot water seeped in, soothing her, loosening tight muscles and rejuvenating her the rest of the way that sleep had not done.

When Solona finally decided to leave the tub, she found Leliana lying on her side, her hand resting on Max's chest as she watched the mage emerging from the water. She'd been so quiet, Solona had not noticed that she was awake. Smiling, the mage toweled off – perhaps a little more slowly than was strictly necessary - before padding over to the bed with the towel wrapped around her chest.

"You are blocking my view," Leliana said, reaching over the dog and tugging the towel loose. It fell, catching at her hips before hitting the ground. "There, that is better."

Max grunted and got up, moving to the door and sitting politely, staring at them to let him out. Solona snorted as she moved to free the dog.

"You know, I ought to punish you," the bard began, causing Solona's heart to pick up its pace, drumming a steady tattoo against her ribcage as she returned to the bedside.

"Oh? What did I do?"

Leliana didn't answer, instead grabbing Solona's hand and pulling her down to her knees before the bed. Sitting up and throwing the blankets off, the bard put one knee on either side of Solona, revealing the pink, glistening folds of her sex, peeking out from downy, fiery red curls. Apparently, the bard had worked herself into quite a frenzy while Solona had been bathing, judging by how wet she was. The mage's heart began to beat even harder against her ribs in anticipation.

Looking up into those crystal-blue eyes, Solona saw that they had grown dark with desire, the pupils already fully dilated. Leliana's lips tipped up at the corners in a sly smile, and without warning, she gripped Solona's chin in one hand, the other shooting out to fist her short hair, pulling her close.

Moving her lips close to the mage's ear, she positively purred, "There were so many people interested in you last night, proud victor that you were. I simply thought I should… stake my claim before you became aware." Her voice dripped sex, making a shiver trail down Solona's spine. Leliana pressed a brief kiss to the ear she'd spoken into before both hands slid behind the mage's head, guiding her face forward.

Solona knew when she was being given an order. She also knew when it was all in good fun, and this definitely fell into that category. It was like adult play, and she was more than willing to participate. The smaller woman taking possession of her, literally marking her with her arousal like this, made Solona's blood pound, in her chest as well as between her legs.

Flicking her tongue out, she tasted the slightly salty, slightly tangy taste of her lover's sex. Leliana let out a growl and pressed Solona's face further forward, until she could scarcely breathe. As the bard began to grind slightly against Solona's face, the mage put her hands on Leliana's thighs and pressed her tongue against her lover's entrance. It was intoxicating, being surrounded by the bard in this way, and her world contracted to a point where the only thing that mattered was how far she could reach her tongue, and how often it made Leliana buck forward.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Solona able to just barely breathe, Leliana began to thrash. The warden recognized the feel and backed off, lightly stroking her tongue along the bard's bundle of nerves as her climax took her. She felt the telltale splash of wetness on her chin, prompting an answering flood between her own legs. Clenching her thighs at the throb of desire between them, she shuddered in anticipation.

Leliana pulled her away after a moment, panting and shivering, her skin flushed pink. The sight made Solona breathless – the ruddy skin of her face, her heaving breasts with their hard nipples, her stomach and thighs flushed with heat and blood– and she was so, so tempted to take the woman into her arms and ravish her once more.

But Leliana beat her to it. "Maker, you look delicious like that," Leliana breathed, leaning down and running her tongue along Solona's bottom lip. The mage whimpered, knowing Leliana was tasting herself, knowing that Leliana was by far not done with her. "Do you think you have another in you?" Leliana asked, her voice a mere whisper near Solona's mouth.

Before she could answer, Leliana tugged her to her feet, pressed her to the bed, and straddled her. The bard kissed her hard, lapping up every drop of her own fluids from Solona's lips and chin before pulling back with a smirk.

"Maker, to see you like this…" Solona, too, had an excellent view. Pale skin, flushed pink, ropped by sleep- and sex-tousled red hair… Her heart kicked in excitement.

Moving forward, Leliana settled straddling Solona's face, their eyes locked. The mage's arms were pinned by her lover's legs, making her core pulse with need, her face flushing with embarrassment at how worked up she had become. The look Leliana gave her made it clear what she wanted, but Solona could not obey, as the bard was holding fast to her hair with both hands, Solona's prize just out of reach.

Holding Solona's gaze, Leliana raised a brow. "Well?" She then released the mage's hair, smirking as she straightened and lowered herself, staring down the valley between her breasts. "Go on, then."

"Ser, please, she has been our guide here in Orzammar."

"Be that as it may, I am not about to let a Duster in to see our future king."

Solona narrowed her eyes at the door guard, getting ready to say something nasty. But Natia grabbed her hand, turning her around. "It's all right, warden. I'll wait outside with the others. It's really not my business." She smirked. "And I have no interest in being known for socializing with a noble."

"Well, look at who's better at being diplomatic than either of us," Alistair murmured as the dwarf walked back out into the entrance hall of Harrowmont's estate.

Solona snorted. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

They turned as the massive doors were opened for them, stepping through into a moderately sized room; much smaller than what she expected, given the size of the doors leading in. Standing by a large stone desk in the middle of the room was a dwarf with steel-grey, long hair, and a beard to match – as all dwarven men did here. He stood serenely, not greeting them in any way, just watching as they came closer.

Finally, once they stood before him, the man spoke. "I appreciate what you have done, Wardens, and I apologize for putting those of your rank through such trials. I am Lord Pyral Harrowmont, and I thank you for your efforts to help preserve King Endrin's throne."

"Well," began Solona, crossing her arms as she peered down at the man in front of her, "you certainly get right to the point. I am Solona Amell, and my companion is Alistiar Theirin."

Lord Harrowmont seemed unfazed by her bluntness. "And how may I address you?"

Solona raised an eyebrow. "Warden-Commander Amell or Warden-Commander for myself, and Warden Theirin for my companion." Yes, she was definitely feeling contrary at the moment.

He nodded. "Very well. I, too, prefer to keep things formal when I am conducting business." He gestured to the seats next to his desk as he moved to his own behind it. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Solona moved to sit, almost falling over into the short seat. She felt ridiculous, with her knees up by her chest, but she scooted forward, folding her legs in front of her and resolving to not let it take her dignity from her.

"If I may be so forward," Alistair began, mimicking Solona's position, as he was even taller than she was, "why all the secrecy? Why could we not simply meet with you before choosing to fight in the Proving for you?"

"I do not mind. It is a… fair question. I believe you were there, when Bhelan's Second murdered one of my guards in plain sight?" They both nodded. "I could not risk that you were spies. Bhelan and his supporters have gone to extreme lengths to secure the throne, and the only thing standing in the way is myself and King Endrin's dying request that I keep his youngest from seizing the throne."

"But… why would the king choose you over his own son?" Solona wondered, furrowing her brows at the candidate for king.

The dwarf sighed. "You may or may not have heard the story, but let me make sure you have it correct. Bhelan is the youngest of three. Endrin's eldest, Trian, was murdered while out in the Deep Roads not a year ago. His middle child, his only daughter Sereda, was found standing over the body and was exiled to die in the Deep Roads, fighting darkspawn in not but her clothes and a single sword. But I always found it highly suspicious that Bhelan knew just where – and when – to look for her, and in time Endrin felt the same, though he never publicly said so. He loved his children far too much to publicly voice his doubt, even though he knew Bhelan's only interest in ruling was to further his own power."

"We had heard something to that effect," Solona ventured, puzzling over the problem. "So, the king asked you to keep Bhelan off the throne?"

"Yes, on his deathbed. I never thought to seek the throne. My role was to serve Endrin, first as his advisor, then as an elected deshyr in the Assembly. And you can ask any deshyr – a Harrowmont has never been king. I have never wanted it. I always assumed Trian would be elected to rule after his father. But now both Endrin and my colleagues have asked me to step up, to put myself forth as a candidate for king to keep Bhelan from being elected by default. I will not back down when Orzammar needs me."

Solona's eyes drifted to Alistair at the end of Harrowmont's speech. It sounded a lot like the reasoning behind Alistair's change of mind in accepting the throne should the Landsmeet decide to have him. She wondered now what he thought of Harrowmont. It certainly did a lot to make Solona more sympathetic. She respected Alistair a great deal, and felt he would make a wonderful king.

As she pondered Alistair as king, the man himself continued their line of questioning. "So the Assembly elects the king? They have more power than the king? If so, that is similar to how the Landsmeet works."

"We need a single king to preside over important functions, and lead us in battle, but otherwise decisions are made by the Assembly. That body better represents all in Orzammar."

Solona knit her brows once more. "But not everyone is allowed a say in this Assembly. Not all are given a voice in their own rule."

"Ah, yes, you speak of our casteless. It is a shame, really, that their parents chose to abandon their castes. They are already casteless – they should go to the surface and seek their fortunes among the other races, but they do not because they are told it would be even worse. They are afraid, and the lords do nothing but encourage it, for if they are not here then it would be much harder to find consorts to give them sons. But there is little I can personally do. Perhaps as king I could address these issues, but it is unlikely. It is the system we have, and those who rule prefer it this way." His beard twitched as he smiled slightly. "Those in power do so love to hold themselves above those who are not."

Solona frowned. "But how can you be so… blithe about the treatment of people who did not ask for their positions?"

The dwarf's eyebrows rose. "Do humans not treat the elves in their cities worse? Are there not half-elven bastards forced to live a life not belonging to either group because of the rape of young elven maidens or hidden human trysts with elven men? We all have our deep shames, our mistreatment of others that are perfectly accepted by the masses. We at least have ways for the casteless to improve their children's lots." He paused, but Solona had nothing to add. He was right, of course, and she had no retort ready. "That said," he continued, "I do not think the casteless should be so downtrodden. I cannot do much, but as part of garnering support for myself, I would like you to take care of a… problem in Dust Town for me. The commoners are always complaining of it to the Assembly, but no one has yet been able to unseat the root of the problem. If you can take care of this for me, it would show that I, and not Bhelan, have the ability to defend – and rule – this city. While he is busy lying and scheming, I will have done something to take care of the real problems this city faces."

"We will have done something, you mean," Alistair corrected.

Harrowmont smiled, a humorless thing. "Ah, but you are my Champions, and doing this thing at my direction. And with my information."

"Leske, dammit! I'm going to kill you!"

Natia stood at the head of their group, long twin knives she had retrieved from her house dripping with the blood of the fallen dwarves at their feet. Leske, the dwarf's once-friend, stood next to Jarvia, the leader of the carta and the one whose operations they were sent to stop.

"Jarvia came out on top after you killed Beraht, Natia. She's got the swords, the coin, and the bed where I sleep. If you hadn't decided to leave us and take coin from your sister, you would've done the same. You also would've had a place with us, since you're the one who allowed Jarvia to rise to the top, salroka."

"Do not call me that, Leske! You gave up that right when you attacked my friends."

"Well, I've certainly had my fill of betrayals during this little holiday of ours," Solona quipped, coming to stand next to Natia, letting her arcane powers flood through her. As she continued, her voice took on its ethereal, multi-toned quality, and she watched with barely-contained delight as her foes' eyes filled with a quiet dread. "You take Leske," she said, addressing Natia. "I will deal with Jarvia."

"My pleasure," the dwarf ground out, bringing her knives to bear and marching purposefully toward her named target.

Jarvia laughed. "As if a mage could harm-" She never had a chance to finish. Dwarves might mostly be immune to magic, but they were not immune to that magic's effects. Channeling her arcane power had many effects, the first of which was that she was much faster than any normal human. Darting forward, she tripped the dwarven assassin. Jarvia rolled immediately, showing her ease with battle, and sprang to her feet, long knives much like Natia's held before her. Solona just grinned, pulling her glowing sword from her hip and circling quickly around the leader of the carta.

Solona's companions were moving around her, taking care of the rest of their opponents. She had no doubt they would fell their foes with little trouble. She was concerned only with this fight of hers. Three steps, four, and she found her opening. Launching forward, she willingly took Jarvia's knife to her thigh in order to impale the woman upon her sword, twisting savagely as she reached down to remove the blade stuck in her own flesh. Feeling her muscle begin to knit as the life fled from Jarvia's astonished eyes, she turned her back on the leader of the carta, stepping away to survey the scene of the battle.

Once she was sure she was healed completely, she allowed the arcane energy to quiet before tamping down on it completely. As she did so, she saw Natia take her last blow against Leske, slitting his throat and letting him fall at her feet. But he was not without some trick left, even as the life drained from his eyes. Reaching up from the ground, he threw his dagger at Solona just as Leliana, her back turned to him, ran up to the mage with a triumphant smile on her face.

Time slowing had nothing to do with her magic this time. Solona's arms were leaden as she reached forward to catch her lover, who looked around confused, a knife handle extending from her back, just under her shoulder blade.

Lowering her to the ground, Solona barely registered the flurry of activity around her. She hardly noticed Wynne take the bard from her arms, removing the dagger before laying her out and cutting her armor away. She didn't remember how she came to be holding her hands against the wound, exerting pressure while Wynne worked her magic. All she could focus on was the look upon Leliana's face, a look of pure and utter confusion as she tried not to drown in the blood now flooding her lungs, the very same blood which began to adorn her lips as the bard tried to breathe.