Ashe

She was sitting on the bed of her lavish guest quarters, feeling numb all over. Since the fight had erupted a few hours earlier, all she'd managed to do was walk here, sit down and feel sick to her stomach.

What in Thedas was she supposed to do now? What a mess she'd made.

Alistair had shown such unexpected aggression. A part of her loved it, even reveled in their fighting over her, it made her feel like a woman beyond her years, passion thrumming in her veins as well as in theirs. But Alistair had been equally as disappointed in her as he'd been aggressive to the others. He'd been angry with her, too. And that wasn't good at all. She wanted to give him her all, be there for him through this pain over losing Mahariel. And she knew it was unfair, but she felt the sting of Hawke's words when he'd spoken of Alistair's rumored harem. She didn't want Alistair to even look at another woman. The difference between them, though, was that Ashe had never told him so. She would never dictate how he lived his life if the two of them weren't together, and she wouldn't judge him, regardless of her feelings.

Yes, she wanted Alistair, the exceptionally handsome, charming King who'd swept into her life and turned it upside down, who made her blood hum with desire when he looked at her like she was the only thing in this world worth laying his eyes on.

The problem was, she wanted Cullen just as much. Hawke was right, Cullen was a crude bastard. And what Hawke had said about him and all the girls he'd apparently fucked in Emprise du Lion, she had no trouble believing. But his passion awoke something in her, his bad boy behavior vexing her as much as it drove her crazy with want. When he wasn't busy yelling at her or managing to piss her off in some other way, like he had a remarkable knack of finding new ways to do, he had the power to make her insides melt into a wet, gooey mess with just one, scorching look or a few whispered words in her ear.

And when he kissed her, he set her world on fire. She could think of nothing else, then, but his hot breath and tongue on her, his hands touching her in all the right places while he growled like an animal as she let her hands slide equally sinfully over his skin. And sweet Maker, when he'd taken her in bed – she groaned just thinking about it and fell back on the bed, willing herself to think of anything but that.

But her treacherous body wouldn't let her mind rest and her thoughts went to Alistair, how he'd kissed her, different from Cullen but igniting the same boundless lust in her. How he'd held her quivering beneath him, driving his tongue into her mouth and his fingers into her wetness when he'd been a guest in Skyhold. Maker, from the moment he first looked at her, she'd known she wouldn't be able to resist, even though she already wanted Cullen so much.

And what had she done when she was faced with the impossible in choosing between the two of them? She'd found a third option as soon as they'd both left, letting Hawke distract her from it all.

And Maker's burning breath, how he'd distracted her.

She trusted Greyer with her life. She couldn't even say why, she'd known him barely a year. But there was something about him. A trusted friend, lover and brother all in the same person. She'd trusted him almost from the moment she'd first seen his crooked grin and heard his delightful wit the first time Varric had brought him to Skyhold. That was why she was able to relinquish all control so easily when she was with him. And he didn't want anything else from her, no judging, no demanding. Which seemed to be a rare things these days.

Fade, maybe she'd even let him distract her right now if he were here, loosen up all those tight knots in her body, relax and let the anxiety that was building in her go.

She would...

The door opened and she propped herself up on her elbows to see who it was.

Greyer.

"Oh, for the love of the Maker, you have got to be joking," she muttered and fell back down onto the bed, screwing her eyes shut.

Hawke

He heard her mutter something under her breath when she saw him and he raised his eyebrows, trying to keep a smile from his face when he saw her adorable sulking pout before she threw herself back on the bed.

"Not happy to see me, then?" he mused, and ducked when a pillow came flying over his head.

"Why are you here, Greyer?" she asked, still lying on the bed. She sounded irritated but he was sure it wasn't his fault. Mostly, anyway.

"Hey, what's with the attitude, my dear? My name doesn't have a C or an A in the beginning, does it?" he asked, softly, playfully.

She just groaned in response.

There was a reason he'd come here though. Not just to see her.

"I went to visit Anders."

That finally grabbed her attention and she sat up. "So, how did it go? He still alive?"

Hawke sat down next to her on the bed and shrugged. "Don't know. They didn't let me in."

"Oh. Well, of course they didn't, come to think of it. You didn't have Alistair with you, did you?"

He snorted. "Please. His Royal Ass-ness tried to punch me into the wall, you think he'd accompany me to see my old 'friend' not five minutes after that?"

Ashe shook her head. "I don't know what he would or wouldn't do. I don't know him well enough yet."

She looked, if not sad, very tired. He held out his arm. "Come here, princess."

Ashe looked at him skeptically but her eyes glinted with amusement and she humored him and tucked her head snugly against his shoulder while he wrapped his arm around her. "Are you going to lure me into falling for your wicked ways, now, Champion?" she said, her tone sly but amused.

"Maker, you know I hate it when people call me that! And no, no wicked ways today. If one of your knights in shining armor – literally, princess, I'm the only tasteful exception to your otherwise dubious taste – comes in and finds us, I think I shall lose my head this dreary afternoon. And I'd rather keep it a while longer."

She laughed softly against him and it sent ripples of satisfaction through him. She needed to laugh more, like she used to.

"What am I going to do about this mess, Greyer? The boys, Anders, all of it. It's too much," she sighed.

"Nothing worse then what you've endured with grace this last year, princess. For starters, you need to sort out this mess with Anders. And then, I think you need to leave Denerim. Go back to Skyhold and think about what it is that you truly want." He was stroking her arm while talking, catching himself doing it without thinking about it.

"That'll be hard if Anders is not responsible for the attacks. And Cullen would return to Skyhold with me, he's my Commander. But I don't know what Alistair would say about that."

"It's not his place to say anything about it, nor Cullen's. You need to put your boys in their place, make them understand that you are the one calling the shots. Their obsession with you makes fools out of them, and it drives me crazy."

Ashe looked at him with an amused smirk on her face. "Why?"

"'Cause you're my princess, and they don't treat you with enough respect."

"I'm yours now, huh?"

Hawke sighed and rose from the bed and walked over to the table, pouring up wine for himself. "Wipe that foolish grin off your face, Trevelyan. It's so unladylike," he said and ducked again when the other pillow from the bed came flying against him.

He tsked at her. "You almost made me spill my wine."

"That's my wine, and you're an idiot."

He took a swig of the red liquid before he picked up the pillow from the floor and threw it back at her. It hit her right in the face.

"You bastard!" she shrieked, but seconds later she laughed in delight when he found the pillow she'd thrown earlier and threw that too. She managed to catch it mid-flight and just made ready to throw it back at him when he let his glass fall to the floor, wine splashing everywhere. He didn't care in the least, all his focus on tackling her. He gripped her hips and pushed her, her back landing on the bed while he straddled her stomach, pinning her wrists above her head.

"I think I won this little fight," he said and smiled.

"And I thought you said you wouldn't do anything wicked today?" She smirked at him.

"What can I say? I'm a wicked man."

He could see her eyes haze over with something other than amusement and he felt how the pulse in her wrist quickened underneath his fingertips. He stared into her eyes and lowered his face until their lips were a hair's width from touching and he took great pleasure in hearing and feeling her breathing growing more ragged.

She started to close her eyes, and he had to seriously restrain himself when he saw the tip of her tongue dart out to wet the center of her delicious lips.

"But not that wicked," he whispered and released her from his grip before standing up, quickly adjusting his breeches, which had grown uncomfortably tight.

"Tease," she muttered and Hawke nearly choked on his intake of air.

"You seriously just called me that, Ash-, I mean Your-Majesty-of-driving-men-insane?" he said and snickered.

"Maker!" he yelled as a golden candle holder hit the wall not two inches from the side of his head. "Stop throwing shit at me, you little brat! Now, stop sulking and come with me. We're going to have a little chat with that good old, crazy, murdering fucker your precious King has locked up in his dungeon now."

Ashe came up to him and grabbed him by his collar. "Sure thing, Ser Bossy. But if you ever call me a brat again I'll aim for real the next time I throw something at your head."

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off, yanking him harder against her. "Yes, there will always be a next time for me to throw things at your insufferable, stubborn head. So watch it." She released him and he grinned when he saw her press her lips together, trying her hardest not to smile while she opened the door and walked through it.

Anders

He heard something move outside in the corridor, the sounds snapping him out of his concentration. He hoped that it was Ashe. She'd told him to send word when he was ready to tell her the truth, as she put it. But she'd either forgotten or ignored that he had no way of doing that, or anything else. He'd tried calling out but none of the guards lining the corridor had so much as turned their head his way.

But now he could hear keys dangling and being fitted into the lock, muted a little by the soft hum of the magical barrier just inside the door.

Anders stood up and brushed the dirt of his robes. It was now or never. He had to convince her, his sweet, little kitten.

But standing in the now open doorway wasn't Ashe, but the King himself, flanked by two mages who were working some kind of spell. To his great surprise, the barrier fizzled and burnt itself out, but before he could even wonder why, Alistair had him grabbed by the throat.

"I'll make you pay for what you did to her," he snarled and then Anders saw stars.

Judging by the immense pain in his face, Alistair must have punched him with more than just his fist. There was no time to wonder how bad it was before he blacked out, getting dragged over the dirty dungeon floor by the King's own hand.

Cullen

He could feel it like a bead of sweat running along his spine – tickling his senses, like an itch he needed to but couldn't scratch. He felt it in his bones. Something was wrong.

Was that shouting he heard? He started to walk faster through the corridors, towards the sound, straining his ears to hear better.

Hawke?

Was he shouting for help?

His heart started beating faster and he ran past the last few bends and corners until he reached the source of the commotion. It was Hawke, calling desperately for help. Cullen's blood turned to ice when he saw Ashe on the floor, convulsing before going still in Hawke's arms.

"What the fuck is going on?" Cullen hissed, dropping to his knees in front of them. Maker, she looked completely limp, deathly still.

"I don't know! She just fell to the floor, she was fine and then this happened!"

Cullen touched Ashe's face and his heart skipped a beat when her eyes shot opened and she grabbed his hand.

"One day, I will find you, and"... she whispered but stopped just as abruptly as she'd started. White foam gathered in the corner of her mouth.

"Ashe! Wake up, who did this to you?" Cullen pleaded. Hawke's eyes searched their surroundings frantically.

She whispered something inaudible and Cullen leaned down and put his ear against her mouth. She whispered the name over and over before she grew silent and her head lolled to the side.

"What did she say?" Hawke asked, sounding just as frantic as he looked. "Maker's mercy, man, you look like you're about to kill someone."

Cullen got up to his feet. "Oh, believe me, I am."