Notes: Each chapter is a one-shot only, based off original and gathered prompts, that all, in some way or another, involve Sebastian – breaking his vows, more often than not. I do so love to torture him. NSFW! That should go without saying!

Warnings: Heavy smut, 16+ at all times, drugging/spells, blackmail, threesomes, slight bondage, etc.

Original Idea/Prompt: A request/idea that my boyfriend and I came up with together after much brainstorming. Long overdue Isabela love! - Merrill has a thing for Sebastian, but she knows that he won't break his vows of chastity to the Chantry. Using blood magic, she alters his memory temporarily, returning him to his wild-child days. It's just too bad Isabela gets to him first.

This is my first time writing Merrill to this extent, so if she is a bit OOC, I apologize.

Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

Torturing a Prince

Sebastian/Isabela, one-sided Merrill/Sebastian.

By the Dread Wolf! This fascination with Sebastian was becoming more of a distraction that she could handle. She needed to finish repairing the Eluvian and instead found her thoughts occupied by the auburn haired prince. A waste of time, she knew, as the man had made it clear that he had given himself to the Chantry and would reaffirm his vows of chastity.

What a waste. He was so dreadfully handsome. And that voice...she had fantasies of that voice.

Fantasies were all she could have. If he would not break his vows for Hawke – their beautiful and friendly leader – there was no way he would break them for her, especially given his stance on mages. He believed in the Chantry and the Chantry deemed mages dangerous, their Templar order strict watchers and enforcers, mages subjected to forced imprisonment in the Circles of Magi. Many of her companions were wary of magic, especially hers – she used magic infused with her very life, blood magic. Magic obtained through a deal with a spirit in the Fade.

Hawke had warned her that it was no spirit, but a demon, but Merrill's spirit had never been evil or misleading, instead had been helpful in her restoration of the Eluvian. When she could focus on that. As the years passed, it was growing more and more difficult to do so, especially now that Sebastian was around much more than he had been before.

It was becoming rather...frustrating.

How was she supposed to make any progress on the Eluvian when she could not even keep her mind on it?

If she could somehow coax him into fulfill those fantasies, she would once more be able to focus on repairing the mirror. He wasn't going to break his vows, though. He seemed so faithful to them, and she could understand that dedication; she was just as dedicated to her people, even if they refused to accept what she was doing for them.

She thought it over for months, even as the fantasies started spilling over into her dreams, making her torment even more potent until she was determined to succeed in seducing him, one way or another. And then, one night, the perfect solution was presented to her; she'd get what she so desperately wanted, and he would not even remember.

Sebastian had received a summons from Hawke, asking that he come by the Alienage; it was a little odd, given the time of night, but he had never turned down her requests for his assistance before. Not when he owed her, his friend, for hunting down and disposing of the Flint Company mercenaries that had murdered his family for no more than coin. So he gave it little to no thought as he left the Chantry to begin the walk through Hightown, not even bothering to grab his bow since Hawke had made it a point to eliminate the street thugs. The night air was cool, crisp enough to make his skin prickle through the thin material of his tunic, and quiet, the walk to Low town silent and uneventful.

When he arrived in the Alienage though, Hawke was not there. In fact, there was not a soul. Almost immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, the sense of unease rising up and refusing to abate. Someone had lured him out here using his friendship with Hawke, no doubt to finish what the mercenaries had started. And he'd been a fool, leaving his weapons, save a dagger or two hidden in his boots, back in his room in the Chantry.

He whirled around and started out of the Alienage when a pulsing pain began in his temples; he groaned, falling to his knees, holding his head as the scent of copper – of blood – filled his nostrils. He felt no pain, tasted no blood, so he had to assume it wasn't his. His following thought was natural – blood magic! Someone who had concealed themselves, laid this trap for him, was using blood magic on him, no doubt for a nefarious plot. Blackness swam around the edges of his vision and he grew dizzy, his chest wheezing as he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled up the stairs, using the walls of Low town homes to keep himself moving, but he could only do it for so long.

He could see the Hanged Man, but it seemed so very far away in his tunnel vision. The spell swarmed around him before, having reached its full power, seeping into him completely. He groaned and collapsed face first onto the stones of the street.

Merrill bit the inside of her cheek, feeling almost guilty as she watched her magic work itself on Sebastian. She followed him on silent steps, feeling even more guilty when he collapsed on the street. This wasn't right, she knew that, and suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. Her teeth worried her lip as she wrung her hands, standing anxiously in the shadows as she warred with herself; to go to him, take him back to her home as planned, or to let him go, perhaps take him to the Hanged Man where Varric could keep an eye on him until the effects of the spell wore off.

It would only last a matter of hours and once he slept it off, he would remember nothing of what had happened. He'd remember coming to meet Hawke, and nothing else. She'd used her blood magic to alter his mind, suppressing his memories his days in the Chantry and pulling to the surface the memories of the days of his youth, the days he'd spent drinking, gambling, and sleeping around.

By the Dread Wolf! This was foolish. If he finds out what you've done, he'll never forgive you, none of them will, she mentally scolded herself.

She didn't catch sight of Isabela until the pirate was hunched down beside the Prince, hefting his arm over her shoulder and sliding her arm around his waist, lifting him up as he came to rather groggily. Merrill cursed mentally; the last person she would have wanted him running into like this was Isabela. She bit her lip and hurried after them, but when she entered the Hanged Man, she couldn't see them anywhere. Isabela had no doubt taken Sebastian to her room, or perhaps Varric's since she had found him passed out on the street.

She climbed the steps and put her ear to Varric's door, but heard nothing but the dwarf's snoring. Merrill then turned to head down the hall to find Isabela's room, but someone's hand on her arms ceased her movements. She turned and blinked her wide eyes at Hawke.

"Is something the matter, Merrill?" the rogue asked, her blue eyes appearing worried.

None of this was going according to plan! She couldn't very well tell Hawke what was going on, not without exposing her part in all this. With a soft sigh, she resigned herself.

"Ah, no no, Hawke. I had hoped to speak with Varric, but he is asleep." She said softly, averting her eyes as the guilt rose up again, this time because she was willingly lying to someone she called her friend. This whole night had been a huge mistake, but she couldn't take it back; the spell had to wear off on its own.

She'd made her choice and whether or not she liked the outcome, she had to live with the consequences.

"It is awfully late, Merrill. Won't you come back to the manor with me."

She sighed and nodded softly; what a mess this night had become. As she went with Hawke she couldn't help but torment herself with thoughts of what Sebastian and Isabela could very possibly be doing.

"Take it easy sweet thing," the woman's voice purred as she helped him to sit on the edge of the bed. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, but that was no doubt because of how much he'd drank. He often drank enough to obscure his memory, and he didn't care all that much that it did. This woman was most likely just another woman he'd cajoled into bed, and she wasn't bad on the eyes either.

"Taking it easy is the last thing I'd like to do," he chuckled, his eyes taking in the view that was her luscious cleavage.

"Sebastian?" she cocked her brow, planting her hands on her shapely hips. He grinned when he saw that the woman actually wore no pants. "Are you feeling alright sweet thing?"

"Woman - "

"It's not woman, it's Isabela," she snapped, her expression perplexed.

"Isabela," he started again, "I'm more than alright. Why don't you come to bed and let me who you just how alright I am."

She frowned and placed her palm against his brow, no doubt trying to see if he were feverish. He reached up and took her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips; he then brought a finger inside his mouth, swirling his tongue around her digit until he heard her moan wantonly. Only then did he release her. Her chest heaved, breasts straining against her meager shirt(or was it a dress?).

"Sebastian..." She took an uneasy step back and he stood, stalking her like he would his prey, until her back was pressed against the door. She peered up at him, hands pressed to his chest. He drew his hand down her side, before sliding it behind her to squeeze her supple rear. She moaned again, licking her lips.

"You cannot tell me that you do not desire me," he purred against her ear, enjoying the way she shuddered. "I desire you, my sweet. Let's not play coy when it is very clear what is going to happen next."

He chuckled when she pushed him back, making him back pedal toward the bed until the back of his knees hit the edge, forcing him to sit back down. She stared at him for a long moment before she made her decision, and started disrobe herself; when she was bare except for her boots, he stopped her.

"Leave the boots on."

"My my, Sebastian, you weren't exaggerating those stories of yours, were you?"

He grinned. "I never exaggerate, my dear."

She licked her lips and nodded, but he found it hard to keep his eyes on her face when her tan, very generous, breasts were bare before him. More than enough to fill his hands twice over, tipped with tight brown buds that begged him to tease and taste. She smiled slyly and cross the small space separating them. Her hands reached down and pulled his tunic from his breeches, pulling it over his head so that his sun bronzed chest, lightly brushed with auburn hair, was bare to her eyes. She trailed her hands over his chest, licking her lips as she went.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the crotch of his breeches, her eyes warming with desire at the feel of his erect cock. "I never exaggerate," he repeated with a chuckle. "Now, my dark beauty, take off your small clothes." She bit her lip and stepped back, making a show of removing them, shimmying her hips teasing as she did so. When the under garment rested at the top of her boots, she sat herself on the only chair in the room, before continuing. He licked his lips as she removed them, her legs spreading wide for the briefest of moments, filling his gaze with the sight of the flesh of her so very pink and wet center.

He kicked off his boots, then unlaced his breeches as he stood. She watched eagerly as he pushed the cloth down his toned legs and then off, leaving him only in his own small clothes, his cock straining against the meager barrier. "If you want it, sweet, come and get it."

"Don't mind if I do," she purred, pushing her raven hair over her slim shoulder as she came to kneel before him, hands hooking in the edges of his small clothes so that she could pull them down and off, letting his cock spring free at full attention. She dropped the cloth and then took him in her hands, Sebastian hissing with pleasure. "You definitely don't exaggerate."

Her lips touched the head of his cock and he shuddered, before moaning as they wrapped around him, her mouth sliding over his length, sucking him into its hot, moist depths. She was very talented with her mouth, taking him deeper than anyone had before, not even gagging as she did so. He wrenched his fingers in her hair with a gasp, shuddering nigh uncontrollably. Up and down, she bobbed her head, his own dropping back as he thrust his hips in time with her movements. The tell tale burn in his sack made him halt, pulling her subtly away from his cock by the hold in her hair; he'd come close to his peak so quickly and it momentarily confused him. It was as if he'd not indulged in some time, body more eager than it should to be reach completion.

He slid his hands down to her shoulders, pulling her up and slanting his lips across her own. They parted quickly and eagerly, their tongues mingling together hotly. He wrenched his hand in her hair, yanking back so she hissed, his teeth and tongue and lips teasing her jaw and neck. He bit the flesh of her neck and sucked the skin strongly, Isabela whimpering in his arms with pleasure as he marked her.

When he lifted his head, he sat on the edge of the bed and yanked her down onto his lap as he scooted back until he sat against the headboard. She kissed and nipped his throat, her hot center flush against his cock; his hands gripped her hips and while she distracted herself with feeling his body, he impaled her in one sure, strong stroke. She nearly screamed and he himself groaned, her walls and flesh hot and flush around his length.

"So naughty, already so wet and eager for me," he whispered against her ear, holding his hand again in her hair as he rolled his hips against hers, not thrusting, but instead just using his cock to caress her deepest spot. She whimpered, the pleasant sound making his cock jump. "Now, my sweet, ride me."

He released his hold on her, hands finding her breasts as she began to do as he said, pressing her own hands to his thighs to lift her hips, only to drop them back down, her warmth enveloping him all over again. He tweaked her nipples enjoying her gasp, and she halted, momentarily distracted.

"Ah, ah, don't stop," he scolded deeply, one hand sliding around to smack her supple ass.

She nearly squealed, her walls tightening on him like a vice. He groaned his appreciation, especially as she began again to lift and drop her hips on his. Up and down, eager and hard, Isabela bouncing on his lap so she ate up everything he had to offer and more. He again tweaked her nipples, before sliding his hand to her mouth, sliding two of his fingers into her mouth, commanding her to suck on them as she rode him. She did so, expertly at that, deep throating his fingers even as she danced her sensual dance in his lip.

He felt the burn again and, with a growl, he took his hands and gripped her hips hard, tightly, using the hold to slam her down on his cock, faster and harder. She shuddered and moaned and cried out, her ability to think suddenly lost as he pounded into her, pushing her higher and higher until she arched her back, screaming as she reached her peak and covered him in her juices. He cried out hoarsely, the pleasure suddenly all too intense, as if he had not felt completion in so long. His cock and hips jerked, shallow, erratic thrusts as he finished within her, filling her to the brim with his seed.

Panting, she slumped over his chest, both of them sweaty and out of breath, her head pillowed against his shoulder. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Choir Boy, but I like it."

Choir Boy? That gave him pause. He was far from any sort of choir boy, and he would rather be caught dead than in the service of the Chantry.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he chuckled. Slowly he pried her from him and set her on the bed next to him. "I'm not really a cuddler, so I believe I shall retire to my own room."

"Oh no problem," she laughed softly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as her eyes ate up the sight of him redressing himself. "I'm far from a cuddler myself."

A like-minded soul, she was. He yawned a bit and then, with a bow, took his leave of the room, stumbling into one down the hall. He landed face first on the bed and quickly faded.

Sebastian could not recall how he'd ended up in this bed, or where he was. He sat on the edge of the bed, his brows furrowed. Hawke had asked him to meet her in the Alienage, but that was all he could remember. Had he even gone to meet her?

This certainly not his room in the Chantry, he was sure of that much.

He left the room and realized he was in the Hanged Man. He headed down the hall, his step slowing when he heard Varric and Isabela's voices coming from the dwarf's room.

"I call bullshit, Riviani!" Varric exclaimed, obviously skeptical.

"I'm not lying!" Sebastian peaked his head into the room, watching as Isabela showed the dwarf the big and very obvious hickey on her neck.

Varric scoffed. "That's hardly proof, that could have come from anyone."

"I'm telling you dwarf, Sebastian is a tiger in between the sheets," she sighed dreamily.

Sebastian choked, sputtering. They both jumped, eyes jerking to where he stood in the room. Varric clapped his hands and grinned then. "Just who we needed! Isabela is full of nug shit, right? Did you really sleep with her?"

His brow nearly rose into her hair. "I...I have no recollection of doing such a thing. I have vows."

Isabela crossed her arms, her own brows suddenly drawn down in confusion. Then she lightened up and shrugged her shoulders with a grin as she stalked over to him, drawing a finger down his chest. "Doesn't matter if you don't remember, because I do. Either that or it was just a very good dream. Either works for me. You were delicious."

Merrill gasped from the doorway. They turned to see the almost hurt, guilty expression on her face. "I'm so sorry, I seem to have barged in at a bad time. Excuse me." And before they could say anything else, she fled from the room, leaving Sebastian even more confused than he already was.

"I have to get back to the Chantry, excuse me." Then he too left, but not before he saw the way Isabela's eyes raked over him. He shuddered, his breeches suddenly feeling too tight as he hardened.

Well, that had certainly never happened before.

Not where Isabela was concerned.

Strange.