A/N: This chapter is rated M. Lavellan unwittingly succumbs to the advances of a desire daemon. Questionable consent (with her being under a daemon's thrall and all) and bondage elements.

IV.

Over time, Solas' concerns regarding the anchor had proven to be well founded; it had held a hunger all its own, and where it had only sought to grow in power, spirits and daemons were drawn to it like a beacon. Whether they were lured to it as a means of seeking passage to the other side, or if they had merely thought it to be a simple way of drawing power directly from the fade, she had never known, but they did sometimes gravitate towards her in hordes as though she were in fact a rift unto herself.

For those reasons, and others, it had become quite apparent to her that she would have a need to learn greater defensive spells.
She had already seen the future that Alexius and the Venatori had had in store for them while parlaying in Redcliff for a greater mage assistance with the Breach. With an encroaching daemon army marching somewhere off in the distance, she had already had to realize that her knack for protective wards and burial rites would not be enough to sustain her if she had ever wished to survive for any length of time. And though Dorian had seemed far more than capable of holding his own in combat, and was perhaps even amiable enough to have considered tutelage, Solas had already seemed to have taken to the role of mentor rather naturally. He would never claim to be a brethren to her people, or to any anyone's, but she would always feel a comfort and familiarity in his companionship. And despite his words, his heritage was indeed elvhen and his knowledge of the arcane would always far surpass anyone else's that she would ever have a hope to encounter; even if it wasn't always his information on the fade that would call her to him...

It was deep in the Hinterlands when this had first become the most apparent, his sidelong glances and the occasional hand resting innocently at the small of her back manifesting itself at last in to something she could no longer choose to ignore. They had set up camp at the rocky base of a large forested hilltop, Cassanda and Blackwall stoking the fire as they had spoken of Warden history and planned a course of action against the rebel templars to their west. As their voices had droned on, she had excused herself to her tent and had easily found entry into her bedroll and in to the fade.

For a mage, the fade can cater itself to a great deal many things. On that particular evening it had chosen to focus it's accumulative energies on her more carnal urges, repressed as they were, and the desire daemon that had chosen to heed the call had been honing it's craft for well over a millennia.

"He would see you bound," it had said, and that voice that had caressed like silk along her spine had also slowly culminated itself into the horned visage of a small woman. As it had become more interminable, it had sighed it's pleasure at the idea, it's hands cupping it's small upturned breasts before sliding them down to travel along the full expanse of it's hips. "Would you open for him if he pinned you in chains to his altar? Would you cum for him, Lavellan?"

Though she had not yet come to understand the implications of the alter, her body had shaken at the the anticipation of it and she had fought to try to deny her response. To grant a daemon even the slightest permission was to grant it your soul. It would feed upon it until you could no longer remember your earthen form and it would take it for itself. As an abomination, it could travel the worldly plane and all that you ever were would be left to exist as a mere whisp within the veil. This cautionary tale had been ladled upon her since the very first time she had ever been able to hold a staff, and yet...

"Yes." Her mouth had formed the words with a breathless sound she had scarcely even heard herself, and as her heart had pounded at the sudden realization of what she had done, she had felt the stone form cold and rough against her back as the shackles had fallen hard into place.

"Then you will have your hedge mage..."

Torches along all four walls had flashed ablaze with the dim green glow of fade light, and as the room had become more illuminated she had realized at once that her body had become slick with an anointing oil that was sickly sweet with the malignant odor of Felandaris root. Though she had known subconsciously that she had a great need to be panicked, she had not been able to muster the will or the energy for it. Where there should have been fear there was only a comforting warmth, and where there should have been a desire to fight there was only lust and a pool of moisture beading in-between her legs.

As she had turned from the alter, it's cude form resting securely upon a raised dais, she had found that Solas had entered the threshold of the great chamber. The robes he had worn were vivid and ornate, the rare dark stones hemmed along the wide seams flickering in the twilight. As he had approached her, he had discarded his clothing with a simple casual gesture, his fingers trailing along the curve of her calf and the flatness of her stomach before finally coming to a rest in the valley between her breasts.

"Did binding yourself here finally give you the permission you needed to surrender? " His thumb had lifted to graze the fullness of her bottom lip then, his eyes lingering on hers as she had shuddered against the chains. "Are you finally willing to let someone else share in your control?"

"Yes," she had scarce had to say the word, as the daemon had already known it had scored it's prize. Eveything she had ever known of want and need had paled in comparison to the intense yearning that had taken up a residence within her from the moment he had touched her. And though she had scrambled to find reason, and though she had forced herself to acknowledge on some level that the entity before her had merely been an amalgam of what the fade had only thought she had wanted of Solas, she had already surrendered to her fate. She was going to die there, and she was going to do it while begging for more.

A/N: Youre welcome? The next chapter will be geting down to the nitty gritty. I'm not sure if this is a precaution or an invite.