Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to EA and BioWare. I own nothing.

Author's Note:Hello all of you wonderful people! This is a continuation of my Dragon Age series starring Salem and Leliana. There will be familiar characters all through this story, which will be a multiple first person POV adventure, and some new friends. Also, this chapter begins with smut…just thought I'd warn you. It's got an M rating for a reason. Also, to those who are reading my "This Side" Mass Effect series, the third one is not abandoned. My muse decided to kickstart it, then give me nothing. The depression I was going through didn't help. Regardless, it's just on hold while I work on some Dragon Age. In any case, I'll leave you alone. On to the story!

Bright Blessings,

~Raven Sinead

Ostwick

Trevelyan

The woman beneath me writhed and I drank down her moans like the sweetest of meads. I wished I had mead, but this for shite bar had nothing but whiskey, grog, and something I was certain the barkeep brewed in a metal tub. Acid, perhaps. It did not matter. What mattered was the woman beneath me and the man behind me and the utter abandonment of thought. I was thinking too much as it was.

I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the bottle of the inn's best whiskey. It was still swill, but it was what the people could get smuggled in. Clutching the bottle, I kissed my way down my partner's neck, savoring her hitched breaths, her breasts rising and falling, her screams as I took her nipples between my lips and teeth, one after the other in quick succession, until she was nothing but a mess of sweat and desperation beneath me.

I smiled down at her. She was gorgeous, made even more beautiful by the fact that she was here, with me, naked and vulnerable, and I did not even know her name. I did not know his name either, but that mattered even less. We were here to spend a night in bliss and forgetfulness and fucking the worries of the world away in the most literal of fashions.

"I presume I'm allowed to join at some point?" The man behind me said, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

The woman beneath me was his, and I wondered if he enjoyed watching her ravaged by another. Whether he did or not, it did not matter. He would have his pleasure soon enough. I would make certain of that. While I preferred the bodies of women, I found that those near me were incapable of the innate roughness and primal drive of men, and I truly did enjoy being fucked into oblivion. Oblivion was better than the now, than the worthless waste of my life, of waking up each day in chains and hearing my name screeched over and over with slurs and insults and curses.

One could only endure that torment for so long.

I rose, reluctant, from my partner's breasts, looking into hazel eyes flecked at the center with the brightest of greens. "You are truly lovely," I told her, finding that the words released something in me as well, a contentment and a peace that I could find nowhere but here, naked and free and away.

Languid and slow, I kissed my way down her body, loving how her muscles rippled beneath the assault of my lips and tongue and teeth. At last, I reached what I sought, the fragrant center of pleasure and passion and, for me, for a perfect moment, peace.

It's the only time you do something right, my thoughts rang in my head, condemnatory and cruel, echoing the intonations of my mother. I drove them from my mind and lifted the bottle of whiskey, asking her a question with raised eyebrows and lascivious smile.

She laughed and nodded her assent, her beautiful golden hair swaying with the motion, blanketing the pillow with the light of the sun. I tipped the bottle, pouring the alcohol over her womanhood, before bending to take that gentle, delectable flesh between my lips. I groaned as I savored the taste of her mixed with the whiskey, a blend of flavors that danced across my tongue with the purity of a lightning strike. A short, harsh cry greeted my ears, the symphony of my having succeeded. A surge of pride and pleasure flooded me and I turned my eyes to the patient man, once more speaking with my expression.

The bed shifted as he moved, and warm, large, callused hand rested on my hipbones. His skin was warm and I shivered at the temperature difference. As I pressed my tongue into her entrance, he entered me and I bit back a gasp of surprise and pleasure. He began to move within me and I changed to his rhythm to pleasure her as all three of our needs were met.

I buried my face in my partner's center, pleasuring her with long, slow strokes from her entrance to the rigid bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. Her moans changed to gasps, to strangled cries. Pleasure crested in my own body as well as his hand slipped beneath me and began massaging my clit in time with his thrusts. I closed my lips over my partner's zenith, laving it with my tongue, applying gentle pressure in a driving rhythm. I needed her to come undone. I craved hearing and feeling her release.

Slow, tender, I pressed two fingers against her entrance, slipping inside her. Her walls fluttered around the intrusion and she screamed. I wished I could hear my name from her lips, but tonight was not a night for names. This would never happen again, between the three of us. We would go our separate ways, but our bodies would remember this night. I knew I would remember this, fulfilling another as my own needs were tended do. I would remember this on nights when I had nothing and no one but myself to drive me to oblivion.

Her inner walls clamped down on my fingers as she screamed, a hoarse, ragged cry of pure release. I continued pressing my tongue against her zenith, drawing out her pleasure. My body tensed as my partner increased the pace of his thrusting, driving into me with such force I felt I was about to be snapped in half. I gripped the sheets and lowered my head, moaning and whimpering, locking my mind inside the twisted blend of pain and pleasure driving me towards completion. My partner's body was beneath me, sweat-salted and sated…or so I thought. Her fingers threaded into my thick hair and guided me back to her center. I smiled, more than happy to drink from that well, as soon as…my thoughts clouded as my body spasmed…my mind went blank…I shouted to the skies as I released, basking in the waves of pleasure rushing over me.

Brutal, intense, he continued pushing his body into mine, driving himself towards his own end, using me for his pleasure. I was more than willing. I did not want to be able to walk properly, come morning. I wanted to ache with the memory of satiation, let it force me to crave more, drive me to another inn, another drunken night spent in the company of naked flesh and fornication.

The door to the room burst open and I cried out as my partner's body was wrenched out of mine. He yelled his frustration, then uttered a groan of pain as a gloved fist planted itself in his gut. I looked up into the steely eyes of my family's chief bodyguard, Halstead. He glared down at me, disgust clear on his features.

"What in the realms of Thedas are you doing here!?" I screamed at him, indignant. I had done what was required of me for that day, free to spend the night in my own way. I did not want this interruption, and he had no right to be here.

"You've been summoned by your father." He informed me, stern, looking like he wanted to spit on me and drag me through the streets as a whore to be stoned. It would not shock me if those were my father's orders.

"Tell my father to go fuck himself…or to fuck something." I growled, wishing I could vanquish Halstead with just a look. It would be an all-out war, though. If expressions could murder, I would be a withered pile of dust.

"You do enough of that for all Ostwick." Halstead smirked, sneering, knowing that he would eventually win.

I was naked, without a weapon, and no way of resisting him. He reached down and grabbed my clothes from the pile on the floor, flinging them at me.

"Get dressed, harlot." He ordered and I obeyed, knowing that there were probably at least three or four of our family's guards outside the door, just waiting for the chance to properly stick it to a noble bitch.

I am what I am, I smiled to myself as I tugged on my trousers, another affront to my father and mother. I did not dress as women were meant to do, I was promiscuous, and…I smiled. Halstead would win, but not without conceding some ground.

I grabbed the half-full bottle of whiskey and tipped it up into my mouth, draining the vile stuff as quickly as I could. I burned in my throat and boiled in my stomach, but I didn't care. I finished by setting the bottle aside, leaning down and kissing my partner's lips, committing her taste and scent to my memory. There would be no peace for me this night, no blissful oblivion of sated sleep. It did not need to be so for them…they had been so kind.

"I am so sorry." I slipped two sovereigns into her hand to cover the cost of the room and so much more. "You are lovely, and I apologize for this boorish intrusion."

"Thank you." Her hand reached up, covering the thick, horrific scar on my upper right arm. She traced the damaged skin with her fingertips and in her eyes was a longing that called to me. "Thank you so much."

"I trust you'll take care of him?" I said, directing my gaze to the man sitting on the floor under Halstead's glare.

"We'll be fine." She assured me, kissing me again, fierce and powerful, whimpering when Halstead yanked me away.

"Stop whoring yourself." He barked. "You're a blot on your family's name and a stain on the face of humanity!" He saw the empty bottle dangling from my hand. "When did this happen!?" He demanded.

"When you were looking at the beautiful man on the floor with something very like lust in your eyes." I accused him. I'd seen him watch the men he trained, his trousers growing tighter by the moment as he watched broad shoulders and strong muscles executing attacks and defenses. I wondered how his wife enjoyed their lovemaking...poor woman. I needed to pay her a visit.

"Shut your drunken lips, you strumpet!" Another slur that rolled down my back. I was what I was.

"Oh, am I drunk already?" I smiled, knowing that the alcohol had not yet struck me senseless. "Good. Let's get back to the manor. I simply can't speak to my father while sober."

Halstead's meaty hand clamped down on the scar and I cried out from the pain of his grasp. That area was tender still; had never healed properly from the bar brawl a few years ago. Halstead knew it and abused it as he dragged me out of the inn, threw me on the back of a horse, and cantered towards the walls and gates that barred my family from seeing the havoc and cruelty they wreaked on the city they ruled.

As we neared the gates, the whiskey struck in full force, and a sloppy smile spread across my features. My father desired to rule like a tyrant, to have everything a certain way, to have his daughters in Chantry robes and his sons in templar armor? Let him. I would enjoy destroying that image and dream every bloody chance I got. My father hated alcohol; had banned it in Ostwick. He denied me my pleasure, I would break his gilded image of the pure, bright beacon of righteousness he meant Ostwick to be.

This would be fun.

Again.