A/N: The Original Frizzi was offered a one shot for being the 50th reviewer to this series. This is what she asked for - "Varric's wild stories about Sebastian have made it across the Amaranthine Sea, all the way to the ears of the Hero of Ferelden. As it turns out, it spikes enough curiosity for her to want to see these things for herself... and she winds up getting more than she expected. Elf, human, mage or not- make sure steamy bits abound (and bonus points if Varric badgers either or both about it later!)"

I hope you enjoy it dear! As well as the rest of you. We do so love to torture Sebastian, don't we?

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. : )

Warnings: Heavy smut, 16+ at all times, drugging, blackmail, threesomes, etc. This one is bound to be particularly smutty. Not sure yet how smutty as of yet, so we'll see how it goes!

Original Idea/Prompt: The Original Frizzi's idea, as stated above.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age, and Sebastian, but I like to have fun. Frequently.

Torturing a Prince

Sebastian/Hero of Ferelden

Kirkwall; once it was a grand city but now it was faced with rebuilding after her former friend, and warden, had ignited the rebellion by using forbidden magic to blow its Chantry to pile of rubble. It's one reason Lyna Mahariel stood here within its walls; the other reason was far more selfish, a reason she would not likely admit to if confronted. If anyone should ask, she was in Kirkwall on official Warden business.

Her first stop was the Hanged Man. According to the chain, the source of the rumor laid within. That meant she was one step away from finding what it was the rumor entailed – one certain prince named Sebastian Vael.

Lyna stared at the door with trepidation. She should be on her way to the keep to speak with the new viscountess, serrah Hawke. She shouldn't be standing here, in front of a seedy tavern that reminded her of the Pearl back in Denerim. Perhaps not quite so sordid but close. Smelled the same at least, she realized as her nose wrinkled beneath her hood. Just as many drunks strewn about. Her eyes widened when she spotted a familiar friend lounging languidly against the bar; Isabela. So the rumors had been true; her pirate captain had been involved with the incident in Kirkwall and its champion.

Her lips twisted wryly into a smile.

No doubt she had something to do with the rumor that had found Lyna's pointed ear. Any tale filled with lurid sex acts such as she had heard could only include her equally as lurid former bed mate. Keeping the cloak close to her form, the Hero of Ferelden passed the pirate with a wide berth. Her dainty feet carried her up the stairs toward the master suite in search of the dwarf.

Aye, the dwarf.

Not any dwarf, the dwarf – Varric Tethras. Master of stories, procurer of heroes, spinster of legends – and the source of the rumor in question.

"And who might you be? Not every day a hooded stranger graces me with her presence," the dwarf drawled from his grand seat at the head of the family-sized table. His eyes had yet to find her, instead remaining fixed on his crossbow as he polished it.

Lyna pressed her hands to her hips with a haughty huff. "How did you know I was a woman?"

"Either that or a pencil stick of a boy," the dwarf chuckled. He gave his bow one last caress and set it lovingly on the table. Then his golden eyes found her. He was awfully striking for a dwarf. "Now, if you will kindly remove your hood."

"If I don't want to?" she asked, appearing cool and confident as she eyed her nails.

"Ah, well then my friend, I am afraid you won't get what you've come looking for." Varric smirked. "And I know when someone has come to me for information. It's kind of my thing."

Lyna pursed her lips and after a moment, she rolled her eyes. "Fine – on one condition."

"Negotiation, huh? I can live with that. Name your condition then, elf."

She was taken aback. Without revealing herself, he had deemed her sex and her race. Just how observant was this dwarf? "You'll give me the information I seek without any strings attached."

He eyed her speculatively. "And you're so sure there would be strings?"

"Aye, once you've seen my face I doubt it not." He dipped his head in acquiescence. With a drawn in breath, she lifted her hands and pulled down her hood. Her long curled red hair spilled free over her shoulders and framed her face, her large, yet slim blue eyes looking out at him from a freckled, famous face. Her plump lips twisted wryly. "So dwarf, the information."

"And, ah, what information could the Hero of Ferelden need from a humble dwarf such as myself?" His eyes gleamed. He looked as if he'd found a treasure. Why not? It wasn't every day a Warden – one responsible for ceasing the Fifth Blight – stepped into your room. She had rehearsed this moment, recited the way she would present her request. As a Warden, she was privy to any information she wished. The citizens were obligated to assist her when and where she needed it; a blight could not be stopped without a Warden. A fact Lyna Mahariel had learned the hard way, before the final battle against the Archdemon.

Her slim finger stroked the tattoo on her cheek. "I've come requesting information on a subject of interest. Stories of his deeds have reached Denerim and I find I require his assistance in some...personal matters."

"My favorite kind." He leaned back in the grand wood chair, kicking his legs up onto the table as he folded his arms across his chest. "Tell me, who can...assist you, my dear hero?"

Her shoulders rigid, she lifted her chin with a hint of regalement. Perhaps her friend and King had rubbed off on her just a little. "I'm looking for the Prince of Starkhaven."

"Sebastian?" Varric's lips parted as he grinned. "Now, what kind of rumors have I been spreading about dear old Sebastian?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Oh aye, I do believe it was the tales of his wild wars; he liked us to believe he was celibate but I knew better."

How did he know she'd come about the rumor? By the Dread Wolf, this dwarf was easily one step of her and was easily remaining that way. "I did not state why it was I'm seeking him," she said, a touch defensive. She wasn't about to be judged.

"My dear hero," Varric tsk'd as he leaned forward, "women only come to me seeking Sebastian for one reason and one reason only."

Lyna had the good grace to blush. She shifted her stance and folded her arms across her chest. "Then I expect you not to inquire of my motives. You shall simply tell me where to find him."

"Is that a demand? Or a request?"

"You decide but I will have an answer either way."

Varric blinked and then burst out laughing, whole body shaking with the force of it. When it subsided, he pointed his index finger at her. "You I like. Very well. You shall have your answer. Sebastian happens to be in the city, lucky you. He's visiting his...old friend, our very own champion. You'll find him at the keep."

"Old friend?" She raised a brow. "You say it as if there was, or is, something between the two of them."

Varric grinned again. "Who do you think is the co-star of those stories you heard?"

Lyna Mahariel found herself standing inside of the keep shortly after dusk. The guards who recognized her, gave her no hassle. The Templar, however, standing guard at the door to Hawke's office, was another story entirely.

"Lyna?" Cullen was surprised to see her. She could see that. His umber gaze roamed over her speculatively, assessing every minute detail. It wasn't an intimate thing, she knew. He was bred to find danger, even where there was none.

"Cullen. It's good to see you. I didn't know you were in Kirkwall." Making polite conversation wasn't her goal but it couldn't hurt. "I've come to inquire of the Prince of Starkhaven. I was told he was here."

The last bit seemed to make him uncomfortable. His eyes glanced toward the door behind him before shiftily moving back to her slim form. "He's ah, speaking with the viscountess. They asked not to be disturbed. I am merely here because assassins are a common thing these days." That and Hawke was a mage but she knew he wouldn't admit to that little tidbit.

"It's...business," she lied. Then she smiled sweetly, touching her hand to his arm. "I'll take the blame, I promise."

"If you say so, Lyna. Hawke has a wicked temper though, so don't go asking for trouble." He winked at her before he left, making her chuckle. With a shake of her head, she turned back toward the door and hesitated as she reached for the handle.

What if she did walk in on the two...fornicating? It should have made her uneasy but a part of the elf was thrilled at the idea. Varric has said Hawke had been the co-star of those stories and those stories had fueled a part of Lyna she'd thought she'd forgotten once she and Zevran had called it quits(over a stupid fight involving a clueless Alistair). Those stories had awakened her desire, making her dream – nightly – of every sordid detail.

To her disappointment, Hawke was merely sitting at her desk by the time Lyna worked up enough courage to enter the office. Her eyes weren't focused on the viscountess, however, but the man sitting across the desk. Even from the back, she could tell he was handsome; strong shoulders, thick but smooth nape, and a head of hair equally as auburn as her own. At the sound of her entrance, he turned and she was stunned to find his face even more handsome; his nose was regal, eyes bright and cerulean, chin and jaw strong.

Varric's stories hadn't done the prince justice.

"Lyna Mahariel?" Hawke pushed herself to her feet in surprise. Her eyes were wide and golden, skin tanned and smooth. Her hair was dark, in curls, falling over her shoulders. Beautiful, for a shemlen. A human. "What brings the Hero of Ferelden to my door?"

Sebastian peered at her and Lyna had the urge to shift under his gaze. Her nipples hardened against her leather vest, the material rubbing over them in a way that made her want to moan. "I, ah, require the assistance of Prince Vael."

Hawke's dark brow rose high, hiding behind an errant curl. "Sebastian?"

"I was told his, ah, skill...in archery and ah, lock-picking – yes, lock-picking – are unparallelled."

Sebastian chuckled, the sound shooting straight to the heat between her thighs. He shared a wry grin with Hawke. "No doubt she has spoken with Varric." He turned his attention back to Lyna and she realized she wanted to keep it there. On her, not Hawke. "What else has our dwarven friend told you about me?"

"That you are...the man I need for this task." Her teeth tugged on her lower lip just enough that Sebastian's eyes were drawn to her lips.

"Well then, it would be unseemly of me to keep a lady waiting. Hawke, another time?" Sebastian stood and Lyna nearly melted at the full view. He'd forgone the regal armor she'd heard of, instead in no more than a noble's white tunic and tight, black breeches. He came toward her and she wanted to fall to her knees, that's how unsteady there were. Holding his arm out toward her, he smiled, "shall we?"

She was helpless to resist him.

He didn't take her from the keep. Instead, he angled her toward the stairs and they ascended up a level. He assured her that he was merely taking her to the room where he was staying to talk. She wanted more than that but he wasn't aware of why she'd truly sought him out. Or so it had seemed. The moment they stepped into his temporary room, he spun her and pressed her to the door after it had shut behind them. A fire was already lit, bathing the room in subtle light, the angle casting dangerously sexy shadows across his features. He pressed his hands to the door on either side of her, angling his body toward her.

"So, serrah Mahariel," he purred her name and she had to press her hands to the wood behind her to steady her trembling limbs, "why don't you indulge me as to why you've truly sought me out?"

"Pardon me?" She cleared her throat. "I don't think..."

He brought a hand to the base of her throat, laying his hand there. It wasn't threatening. It was sexy. His thumb brushed across her fluttering pulse. "Varric doesn't pass around stories of my rogue skills, Lyna. You see, before the chantry was destroyed I had sold myself on being a brother and on remaining celibate, on being truthful to my vows. So when I fell back into my old ways...well, my dwarven friend took it upon himself to pass the information far and wide. I think," he leaned closer, his eyes burning into her own, "you've come to me for another reason entirely, one calling upon my other unique set of skills."

Lyna had not trembled beneath the fiery stare of the Archdemon. She had stood fast against golems, dragons, and mad malificar. Yet, beneath the cerulean gaze of this one man, she worried she would drown in their depths. His voice, in that unique accent, rolling off his tongue like silk, caressed her in a way she'd never known. Zevran had a sexy voice but Sebastian, he made it pale in comparison. "What skills are those?" she breathed.

"I think you know." He grinned, his teeth bright against the shadows. "I wouldn't expect the woman who stood toe to toe with the Archdemon to play shy."

"Play shy?"

"Oh aye." His hand trailed higher, taking a firm grip on her throat. Again, not threateningly. His thumb pressed against her jaw, tilting her head up. His lips were only a breath away. She could almost taste him. "You came to me. I think very little of what you had planned involves being shy."

Her tongue peeked out, slid across her lips to wet them. He lips pulled into a smirk at the sight. He'd read her very well, could probably scent her arousal in the air. She'd never wanted anyone more. With a moan, she grabbed the edges of his tunic and yanked him toward her. The distance between their lips disappeared. The kiss was not gentle. It was hard and hot. His tongue slid between her lips and sought her own; they tangled, dueled, and slide across one another in a sensual way. Her head spun. He was beyond a good kisser; again, Varric's tales hadn't done him justice.

She needed more.

Wanted more.

It wasn't something he needed to be told. He could feel the way she wanted him, their kiss as telling as any intimate act between them. She only broke the kiss to gasp frantically for much needed air. His eyes burned as hot as his touch on her chin and throat. "Lose the cloak," he muttered in a low tone, making her wonder if he had growled the words. All she knew was the reaction those words had. Her small-clothes suddenly felt too confining, too wet.

Lyna nodded breathlessly as he released his hold on her. Her fingers jumped from clasp to clasp to do as he'd commanded. Once they were plucked open, she pushed the cloak off of her slim shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. He licked his lips at the sight of her in her hunting garb; as a dalish rogue, Lyna had always worn as little as possible to keep from hindering her skills in the woods. When she became a Warden, that hadn't changed. Out of habit, this was what worked best with her fighting skill; leather-hide, no sleeve, low cut vest, with a skirt made of leather-hide strips. Not that it was a bad look. It accented her form perfectly; she wasn't stick thin and lanky. Her breasts were ample, waist flaring into wide hips, and a rear end that made every female shemlen green with envy. The bulge against her lower abdomen alerted her to the fact that he liked what he saw.

Lyna yanked him closer by the fabric of his tailored shirt, running her nose up and down the length of his neck. Her tongue teased the corded muscle of his neck and he ground his erection against her. Ah, she loved that. She nipped at his neck just to feel it again. She wasn't disappointed. Her ministrations moved to his ear, where she nibbled and teased, making the poor man nearly gyrate against her constantly for any form of pleasurable release. She wasn't unaffected; she nearly wet her small-clothes in a rush of release in response to the tortured, such sexy, sounds leaving the prince's throat.

He wasn't to be outdone. She'd pushed him too far, too close to the brink. He yanked himself away, his nostrils flaring as he peered down at her. Then he grinned, a grin that made a shiver of pleasure race clear down her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. As she watched, he tore his shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground, baring to her his gloriously sculpted chest, kissed like honey by the sun. She wanted to lick every curve and dip of that plane before her.

"If you would indulge me," she took a step forward and trailed a fingertip down his chest, "I am curious about why you forsake your vows."

"Are you complaining?" He smirked.

"Oh nay, far from. Elves are notoriously curious. As my being here should well prove." She chuckled.

His eyes darkened considerably. "Let's just say my faith was put to the test and I failed." The words made her shiver and yet she wasn't afraid. Leering at her, he grabbed the front of the leather-hide vest and yanked as hard as he could, causing the leather laces to fray and break entirely. She gasped as her breasts spilled free to the cool air of the room, her pink nipples pebbling into hard peaks. "I wasn't meant to be a brother. I wasn't meant to be celibate." His fingers tweaked her nipples, tugging on them until she whimpered. "As you'll soon see."

He released her but for only a moment. His hand was quick to find a hold once more, this time on the nape of her neck. That grip yanked her forward and he moved so that she stumbled by him. Hands on her back ushered her forward until she landed on the bed with an 'oomph'. Before she could say, or do, a thing, a loud smack caught her by surprise. A sharp sting made her hiss as his handed hand landed sharply across her thigh, just below her ample buttocks. His fingers hooked in her small-clothes, yanking them off her body. Then he was back, straddling her thighs as his hands pushed her skirt up slowly. His fingers kneaded her flesh as they went, before another smack, this time on her rear, caught her unaware. She hissed in pain and yet shuddered in pleasure.

"Count," he ordered.

"What?" she squeaked.

"Count." Then he smacked her ass again, before kneaded it soothingly with his hands.

"One." Again. "Two." Again. "Three," harder this time. He repeated this pattern again and again; a sharp smack with his hand, before caressing to soothe away the ache. Soon her flesh was pleasantly red, humming with awareness in every nerve. She panted, clutching at the material of the blanket beneath her. It wasn't long before she felt like one giant bundle of nerve, a puddle of mush that desired one thing and one thing only – to feel him.

"Good girl," he purred as he dropped his head to draw his tongue across the reddened skin of her buttock. "Such a good little elf, aren't you?" His hands moved up her waist, sliding beneath her body to grasps her breasts. Using the leverage, he adjusted them until she was sitting in his lap with her back pressed to his chest, his knees on spread wide to give her room. His fingers plucked at her nipples, twisting and tugging them as his tongue laved her neck. She moaned and then whimpered as his teasing moved to a pointed ear; elves had one weakness – the ears. Something about their shape made them extremely sensitive. It was one reason why elves made such good rogues.

He nipped the edge and she cried out as she shuddered in his lap. He licked at the crevices and curves and literally writhed in his lap. "I had a friend once," he breathed hotly into her ear, "that told me a little secret about elven ears."

"Y-you did?" she gasped, barely able to think coherently enough to form intelligent responses.

"Oh aye. He quite...liked having his ears played with. Told me that the ear of an elf was the single most erogenous spot." He slithered his tongue against her lobe, before sucking it between his lips. Popping it free, he muttered heatedly into her ear, "tell me, was he right?"

If he knew just how wet her nether lips were, he wouldn't need to ask that question. As if thinking the same, his hand slid from her breast, down into the waist band of her skirt to find those wet and dripping lips. He hissed when his fingers dipped into sweet honey. "So wet. So responsive. Maker, I've waited a lifetime for such a sweet creature. Do you like my touch?" He nipped her lobe and his thumb rubbed and circled her clitoris. His index and middle finger pushed into her heat, pushing deep, curling to strike that sweet spot within her depths. Just like that, she exploded in his arms. He commanded her to cry his name and she did just that. He demanded it louder, a growling order in her ear. She did so.

When she came down from her high, her whole body just felt like goo. Tingly, warm, puddly goo.

He wasn't done with her yet. Oh nay, not yet.

His hands grasped her hips and pushed her back down to the bed. Taking the belt from his trousers, he looped it around her wrists and tied them until she couldn't wiggle them apart against her lower back. She panted as he flipped her onto her back and wrenched her thighs open, pulling her legs astride his hips. His fingers parted her nether lips, his thumbs spreading her juices. She trembled with a gasp. "You like that, don't you?" he taunted her, flicking her nub with his thumb. She whimpered in answer and he seemed pleased, his body shuddering.

"Not yet," he mutters, "not yet."

Lyna blinked up at him, confused. Sebastian pulls away from her and disappears from the bed as she wiggles into a seated position, her hands still bound. She couldn't do much more than watch as he moved to the nightstand beside the bed and pulled open the drawer. He withdrew wooden clothespins before he returned to her. Her sleek eyes blinked up at him, head cocking curiously. Keeping the pins in one hand, he pushed her down with the other and kissed her roughly. Their teeth clicked together as his tongue invaded to duel her own. He used the distraction to his advantage; a sharp pinch on one nipple made her cry out into his mouth. Then the pinch repeated itself on her other nipple. He broke the kiss and leaned up, admiring his handy work. He tugged on the pins and she gasped, arousal flooding her body from the mix of pain and pleasure.

This was certainly more than she had heard in those rumors started by Varric; perhaps the dwarf hadn't been privy to the details.

"It's a good look for you," he said with a grin, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

He was far more deviant than she would have thought. He looked far from deviant. He looked more angelic. As often as she'd been told though, she knew she could not judge a person by their looks alone. It was hard to think about anything other than the pulsing of her heartbeat in her nipples. They throbbed in time with each rapid, hard thump of her heart.

"What else shall I do with you?" he asked, though she had the distinct impression that he wasn't speaking to her, but rather to himself. He licked his lips as he drew his fingers up and down her thighs, making her shiver. Reaching beneath the pillow, he retrieved a long wooden paddle but merely set it on the pillow. Then he moved her onto her chest and knees, up toward the headboard, where he pulled down a leather collar to affix to her neck. His fingers undid the belt, moved her hands to the headboard, and retied them there. He hummed in satisfaction, his hands running up and down the sides of her body, kneading her flesh. "Such an exquisite creature you are, Lyna."

His hands pressed into her lower back, making her dip enough that her clamped nipples brushed the bedding. She whimpered a moan. Fingers pushed her skirt to her waist, before once more finding her soaked nether lips. She couldn't focus on that for long. Before she could prepare herself, he was buried balls deep within her, his flesh slapping hers. Lyna cried out, tossing her head back as he body adjusted to his invasion.

"So tight," he muttered, his fingers digging into her hips. "So good."

Then with a guttural growl, he began to pound in and out of her. Fast withdrawals, followed by swift, hard dives back inside. All she could do was bounce with the movements, tethered as she was. Her head fell forward, wanton moans pulled from her throat. The head of his cock hit that sweet spot inside of her, making her head reel. Slick fingers circled her starred pucker and probed gently, then most insistently until he was pressing one finger, knuckle deep, inside of her anus. With each thrust of his cock into her cunt, he curled his finger to intermingle the sensations, making her nearly cry. She was overwhelmed with sensations; womb, anus, nipples – it was all too much. The excitement built up in her, the tension, the pleasure and she began to fear that, when the orgasm hit, it would be too intense.

His body leaned over hers, his fingers burying themselves in her curls. He wrenched her head back, straining her neck, leaving her to simply moan and writhe and whimper in pleasure. She was one giant, over-stimulated nerve. He rode her good, too. Pound for pound, thrust for thrust, and before she could comprehend its arrival, that orgasm hit her with such intense force, she nearly blacked out.

Her throat felt raw as she screamed, her body shuddering. He rejoiced in the sound, pushing harder, reaching more intensely for his own release. Then with one final, brutal thrust, he stilled and she could feel the hot rush of his seed as it filled her to the brim. His grip on her hips tightened and she had no doubt she would bruise. Her head spun and then, she really did black out.

When she came to, she was collarless and unbound, but naked. Sebastian lay beside her, stroking her hair. Her body protested any movement, but she managed to sit herself up and peer down at him through messy strands of hair.

"Well, that was certainly more than I had bargained for."

His lips curled into a smug smile. "Are you complaining Lyna?" He reached up and tucked her hair behind a pointed ear, the slight brush making her shiver.

She leaned down to kiss his lips softly. "I wouldn't dare."

"Good girl," he mumbled before gripping her hair to deepen the kiss.

"So, Hawke tells me she heard screaming from Sebastian's room last night," Varric said nonchalantly as he stroked his beloved Bianca.

Lyna had the good grace to flush with embarrassment. "Your point? I don't see why this is something you need to seek me out for."

Sebastian turned a droll stare on her, though amusement was evident on the slight curl of his lips. "You don't know him very well, then."

"Of course not! We've only just met!"

"Aye, well, now you'll never get rid of me, my dear." Varric grinned and plopped down beside her on the sofa. He pulled a pad of parchment from one of his leather pouches. "Now, start talking. And I want every dirty, sordid detail."

Lyna made an odd sort of sound; a laugh mixed with a groan.

How did she always end up involved with the strangest companions?