Aveline could hear their voices in the hall outside her door, and knew it was time to go. She donned her mask, and after one last look at her appearance in the mirror, left her quarters to join them.

Maecon whistled. "Damn, Captain! You sure clean up nice. Didn't know- oww!" He rubbed his arm while staring questioningly at the other female present. "What was that for? I was just complimenting her."

Brennan shook her head. "It's not a compliment if you're acting all surprised about it, dummy. Besides, she's with Donnic. Even I know it's courtesy to keep your mouth shut so he can say something first. Assuming the wanker knows he's supposed to compliment his lady's appearance."

"Yes, of course," Donnic answered. "The captain looks quite lovely."

"You're supposed to tell her, not me. You can't really be this hopeless."

He coughed somewhat nervously. "Captain, your appearance is captivating. That gown suits you quite well."

While Aveline had opted for a half mask instead of a full-faced one, she was glad that the bottom of it extended low enough to cover her blushing cheeks. "Th-thank you… you look rather nice yourself."

She turned to her fellow guardswoman and smiled while gesturing. "See, I told you that would look fantastic on you."

Brennan grumbled, though the grin she wore showed that she appreciated Aveline's help in choosing an evening gown. "Yeah, well… the men here better remember that the ladies are unarmed tonight, so they'd better do their jobs if we run into any trouble."

"Aye, milady," Maecon replied in a mock formal tone while tapping the hilt of the dagger attached to his belt. "I'll protect your life as if it were my own while we cross the treacherous Hightown Square. Fear not, nary a fly will be permitted to accost you."

After the shared laughter died down, Aveline said, "I can't say I'm as concerned for my safety as Brennan is, but I don't think either of us wants you two attempting to swat flies with your blades."

A moment later she added, "One other thing… tonight is a social occasion. As such, I won't have any of this 'Captain' business. I'm 'Aveline' to all of you. Understood?"

"Good," she said after the others nodded in acknowledgment. "Now, shall we?"

As they left, Aveline briefly thought about the initial expressions of surprise at the latter request before they turned to smiles and polite nods. Their surprise was understandable. She knew she'd earned her reputation within the guard as being a bit of a hard-ass, a reputation born both of necessity in the wake of Jeven's ouster and of her character.

Respect – your superiors, your charges, yourself – was a constant theme. In effort not to play favorites, she'd commonly erred on the side of being too impersonal. In her effort to stamp the sense of entitlement out of the Guard and re-establish a civil servanthood mindset, she'd stepped on many toes. Although she'd eased up quite a bit from her early days as captain, and most who'd believed her insufferable were long gone, old impressions were hard to kill. Very rarely was she invited to off-duty gatherings, and she avoided imposing her presence by inviting herself. As a result, her troops had little opportunity to see her as anything but 'The Guard-Captain'.

She still struggled in general to balance the professional and personal sides of her position. This night, however, her purpose in having job titles set aside for the evening was very specific. She wanted Donnic to see her as a woman, an equal, and felt that removing the constant reminder of the City Guard org chart was a small measure to aid that. And her sense of fairness combined with a desire not to be completely transparent with her personal interest in him wouldn't allow her to extend the courtesy to him without also extending it to Brennan and Maecon.

Aveline smiled as they reached the stairs leading to the first floor of the keep and Donnic took her arm without being prompted. She hoped it was a positive sign of things to come.

-==0==-

"My lady, Lady Leandra requests your presence now that guests are beginning to arrive."

Misery's eyes shifted. In the bedroom mirror's reflection she could see Merrill standing behind her. The elf was already in costume, wearing servant's garb along with a masquerade mask large enough to cover the entirety of her facial tattoos.

"We're alone. You don't need to speak like that."

The elf shook her head. "This sort of thing is so foreign to me. Although I have practiced, I risk forgetting myself and messing up if I attempt to play my role selectively. Besides, this is all so exciting. I feel like a character in one of Varric's stories, doing something sneaky."

"Fair enough. Just remember what we talked about before, about the things that are and are not your duties."

Merrill nodded. The latter was especially easy to remember, if not by the emphatic manner in which Misery hammered in the point that she needed to resist any pressure to provide guest services commonly associated with a brothel, then by the physical presence of one of Misery's flat blades concealed in the pocket of her apron – just in case as Misery put it.

"Is there anything my lady requires?" Merrill asked. "Otherwise, I am expected downstairs."

Misery smirked at the reflection. "It's more convincing if you don't giggle afterward. But no, I'm ready… more or less. Let Mother know I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Of course, my lady." With that, Merrill gave a brief curtsy and left.

Misery shook her head, thinking that Merrill was having far too much fun with this, while at the same time appreciating her lighthearted, accommodating attitude. That was one less thing for Misery to be stressed about.

Besides, after Varric reminded her in regards to Fenris how careful she needed to be phrasing her request for his help at the party, it dawned on her that she hadn't been nearly sensitive enough prior to that when asking Merrill. Despite how close they were, it was still a human asking a proud Dalish elf to be her servant, even if for one night. That could easily have caused resentment.

She didn't plan to visit that topic unless Merrill began to show signs of being bothered by it, but she also hoped that her elven friend readily agreed as a matter of trust rather than out of mere obliviousness.

-==0==-

Fenris couldn't help the wry grin that formed at the sight of the harried dwarf straightening his clothes and masquerade mask, and generally composing himself after entering the estate's foyer.

"May I take your jacket, messere?" he asked, per his role.

Varric laughed sarcastically. "Not before Misery sees me in it first. Getting the damned thing altered at the last minute is the reason I'm late. Speaking of which, how badly late am I?"

"Most of the guests have already arrived, but I believe you are within custom for fashionably late."

"Better than I thought then." He looked past the foyer into the main room. "You know where she is?"

Fenris resisted giving an indifferent shrug, instead answering, "Other than advising me to greet the guests, she hasn't deemed it necessary to speak to me. If she isn't directing Bodahn or the… or Merrill," he began, catching himself before blurting out his preferred 'the blood mage' moniker for the female elf, "I could only suggest that you look around."

Despite there not being anyone else with them in the foyer, Varric lowered his voice as he said, "Insensitive as Misery appears, really it's the opposite. She told me yesterday that she intended to leave you alone as much as possible. She understands why you're less than enthusiastic to be here and is trying to accommodate that."

"She could have simply told me that."

Varric chuckled. "You forget who we're talking about? Why would she do that when she can just leave you in the dark guessing at her intentions?"

"You… have a point," Fenris agreed.

"Anyway, you alright so far other than that?"

The elf nodded. "Yes. And Lady Leandra has been very gracious. She has gone out of her way to express appreciation for my assistance."

"Ahhh, she's being more Sunshine than Misery, eh?"

"If those are the points of comparison, then yes."

"Alright then… that was a boring answer. Way to not take the bait."

A thin smile formed on Fenris' lips. Gesturing to the main room, he said, "Perhaps Messere would find the party more entertaining than spending a suspicious amount of time conversing with a servant."

"You're good, you know that?" Varric asked with a laugh. Without waiting for the elf to reply, he waved and sauntered into the main room. Almost immediately he was beset upon by another elf.

"Messere Tethras, my lady has been awaiting your arrival," Merrill said. "Please follow me."

He chuckled to himself while following. He'd expected Fenris' deft handling of the servant role; the former slave had a lot of prior experience with it, for better or worse. Mostly worse. He'd been more skeptical of Daisy being up to the task, but she seemed to be doing well enough so far. He hoped the upbeat mood and that slight bounce in her step lasted the night.

Thoughts of his elven friends disappeared though as they entered the large dining room and he saw Misery among the crowd of people, standing next to a table of assorted sweets talking to Aveline and Donnic.

"Oooh…" he said as he approached. "So beautiful…"

While Misery merely turned her head and smiled, Aveline laughed in amusement. She knew the dwarf was Misery's companion for the evening and had a vague idea that the pair was not only comfortable with that, but wanted it that way. But she hadn't expected Varric to so openly fawn over Misery.

"Nice entrance," Aveline teased.

Varric grinned as he picked up a small plate bearing a slice of cake. "What can I say? This is one gorgeous spread." He glanced up after taking a bite. "Oh, hey, Miz."

"Or maybe not so nice…" Donnic said.

Obscured by a mask or not, Misery couldn't miss the twinkle of mischief in his eyes or the slight upward tick at the corner of his lips. She knew he was going for a reaction, but decided to play along rather than grant him one.

She reached over and picked up a chocolate confection. "Personally, I'm partial to the brownies. I mean, just look at the presentation. You can tell whoever made them really knows how to handle a knife. I'd even bet these were quite the special order."

Varric's sarcastic expression quickly sobered. "Really?" he asked, easily recalling his big faux pas in the not too distant past of criticizing a batch she'd brought to him before realizing she'd actually made them. He took one for himself.

"Fabulous…" he agreed after finishing it. "Just like you, by the way."

Aveline shook her head. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't count as a compliment if she had to bribe you for it."

"Hey, now, that's not fair," Varric protested playfully. "It wasn't a bribe. It was… the bit about knowing how to handle a knife."

Misery couldn't help but laugh at the curious and somewhat uncomfortable stares coming from other nearby guests. "V, if you run off our guests here that don't realize you're joking, it will be Mother that you need to fear."

He laughed along with her before nodding. "Point made, I'll behave now."

Aveline didn't say anything, but the ease at which the two rogues played off each other made her smile. This wasn't the first time she'd thought that the pair communicated with each other on a different level than they did everyone else, often as much non-verbally as through actual spoken dialogue. And for as dysfunctional as any relationship with Misery could be at times, Aveline understood that whatever the extent Varric's was with Misery, it was special. And enviable. She stole a glance at Donnic and silently hoped that the two of them would find that level of comfort with each other and more.

-==0==-

"Milady?"

Leandra turned her attention, already divided mostly between observing Aveline and Donnic, and the conversation of the women she was sitting with, to the man who'd approached her.

"Would you be so kind as to grant me a dance?" he continued while gesturing towards the middle of the main room.

Leandra didn't recognize the man, but that wasn't a cause for concern. The mask he wore covered all but his eyes, nostrils, and mouth, and the medium length graying hair wasn't much of a clue when the majority of guests were closer to her age than her daughter's. She glanced over to where several couples were dancing to the music of performers she'd hired for the evening.

"Are you certain? I must be honest. It's been a number of years. Not so many as to have forgotten the steps, but enough for them to no longer feel familiar. As such, you won't find me the most graceful of partners." Despite words that could be interpreted as a lukewarm protest, her tone was light with amusement at the unexpected invitation.

"I am quite certain," he answered, offering his hand.

"Oh, go on, Leandra…" one of the women next to her playfully admonished when she still hesitated. "You deserve to indulge yourself in a bit of frivolity."

Leandra smirked at her friend before turning back to the man and reaching out to accept his hand. "Very well. You have been warned, so I will hear no complaints or utterances of dissatisfaction."

The man laughed as he took her hand and assisted her to her feet. "Fear not. Being a gentleman, any blame for a poor performance will lie at my… err… feet."

-==0==-

Leandra chuckled as the current song concluded. "That went much better than I'd anticipated. I daresay it even approached competence. Thank you for the dance."

He didn't let go of her hand even as she began to turn away. "I believe you are far more graceful than you give yourself credit for. Would you indulge me once more?"

"Oh? What of your spouse? A third song could be perceived as more than politely entertaining the hostess."

Even though she still didn't recognize the gentleman, the assumption that he was with someone was automatic. She'd only invited couples to the party, giving Aveline cover for why she needed a companion to accompany her.

He hesitated a moment before shaking his head and slightly tightening his grip on her hand. "I assure you that won't be a problem."

Her curiosity was piqued by his insistence, but gave her no inclination to decline. She was enjoying the attention, and even if it was meaningless - only the husband of one of her friends - she felt surprisingly comfortable in close contact with him. As the music started up again, she nodded. "One more song then. After that I must see to my other guests."

"Of course, milady. I won't keep you longer than you deem appropriate."

A few minutes later he sighed in contentment as they continued their movements to the music. "Thank you again for this. You have been everything I hoped for and more."

Leandra raised an eyebrow, though the effect was lost under her mask. "That is very considerate of you, but I must admit… you have me at a disadvantage. I haven't been able to determine who you are, nor do I recall who you arrived with. Would you care to enlighten me?"

He chuckled. "I knew you would eventually become curious enough to ask, yet even now I'm uncertain how much to say. The truth… I suppose…"

He quickly continued, realizing by the not so subtle shift of her expression that he was on the cusp of losing her. "We hadn't met before now. Much like yourself, I'm a widower. My beloved passed on several years ago, and when I could no longer bear the emptiness of our home, my life, in Starkhaven, I decided to start fresh here in Kirkwall."

He took a breath, willing himself to slow down as he continued his explanation. "I first took notice of you in the market a few weeks ago, and naturally my first thought was that a woman as beautiful as yourself must be married. I tried to put you out of my mind, but when I saw you again the following week I couldn't help myself and began to inquire about your identity. And when I discovered not only who you were, but that you were throwing this masquerade, well… perhaps crashing your party in order to meet you isn't as clever an idea as it seemed at the time, but here I am."

"I… see… I suppose I'm flattered to warrant such interest, and I understand now why you have no concern for what this much time in my company could imply to others. Do you have a name?"

"Quentin," he answered. "And I apologize for the… deception as it were. I have some business to attend to, but would you permit me to call on you again in a few days? Introducing myself in a more proper manner, of course."

A slight smile crept across Leandra's otherwise neutral features. "I believe I would find that acceptable." Her smile grew a little wider at the obvious sigh of relief her answer brought.

The song concluded soon after, and with it the dance. Almost as soon as it did, Quentin felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see a much larger, armed man with a rather authoritative posture standing there.

"Is th-there a problem?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure even while looking for an escape route should this turn ugly.

Donnic chuckled. "Only if you intend to prevent me from cutting in. I would like a turn with our lovely hostess."

"No, not at all," Quentin answered, recovering quickly. "It's time for me to take my leave anyway."

Inwardly he rankled at the thought of this other man putting his hands on the woman he hoped would very soon be his, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He reminded himself that he was already walking away with everything he'd hoped to gain from this uninvited visit.

"Am I to have no say in the matter, Serah Hendyr?" Leandra asked, smirking.

"Ummm… well… I didn't mean to offend… you are, of course, free to decline my request."

Leandra laughed. "As long as that's established, then I accept. Only one, however. After that I simply must attend to my responsibilities."

Quentin bowed to Leandra. "Thank you again, milady. A good evening to you."

"To you as well," she answered with a nod and a smile.

Quentin made his way toward the front door and disappeared into the foyer as the musicians started in on another standard. Leandra offered her hand to Donnic, who took the hint and began leading her through the dance.

"I will not deny enjoying the attention," Leandra said, "but may I ask what prompted this? I would have expected you to invite Aveline to dance."

Donnic chuckled again. "Serah Tethras suggested that you might need a rescue, as it were."

"Oh? What did he say?"

"Not much more than that really. Whatever he saw to make him think that, I don't know. He did say it would be better for appearance's sake if I cut in rather than himself."

"I see. Although I was capable of handling it myself, I suppose I will thank him for his concern. Do you know if my daughter put him up to it?"

"I don't. Admittedly my attention was on the capt– err… Aveline… not what others were doing."

Leandra laughed lightly. "Fair enough. Speaking of which, the two of you appear quite taken with each other. You make a fine couple."

"O-oh… ummm… well… it-it's ummm not like that… exactly."

"Hmmm… should I understand you to mean it isn't unlike that either?"

"Well, I mean… what I mean to say is, we haven't spoken of anything beyond tonight."

"Aveline speaks highly of you. Can I trust you will not keep her guessing as to your intentions?"

With the line of questioning distracting him, Donnic's concentration faltered and his foot clipped Leandra's, causing them both to stumble through a turn. He managed to catch her while righting himself, saving them both the embarrassment of a fall. He shook his head after their steps fell back in time to the music.

"Forgive me, milady. I'm not so practiced at this that I can let my mind wander very far from the task at hand."

"You needn't apologize. I'm certain it was unintentional, that you didn't kick my ankle in order to avoid the question."

Donnic chuckled again, except this time a bit nervously. With the older woman's eyes framed in by her mask, her gaze felt all the more direct, penetrating even. Combined with a thin smile that seemed to be expressing more amusement with his discomfort than anything else, a dance that took them in circular motion around the room, and her very namesake, Donnic couldn't help but envision a bird of prey toying with her meal-to-be. He found himself questioning why Varric possibly thought she needed assistance with that other fellow.

"No, no… legitimate clumsiness…" he finally answered. "But I… you uhhh… appear more… ummm… resolute … about this than I am."

Leandra sighed. "Mere hope, nothing more. She is my dearest friend, and tonight is as happy as I've ever witnessed her. You are the reason. That much is certain. Am I wrong to believe that you have been looking upon her this evening with more than professional admiration?"

"I ummm… I think… uhhh… oh, I almost forgot, I should thank you again for your hospitality. Last I saw, even Brennan was having a good time, which is saying something… she was skeptical beforehand."

"Quite an evasive answer, serah," Leandra said with a slight grin. "But an answer nonetheless."

He didn't reply, and Leandra didn't press the issue. However, as the dance concluded, she added, "What you do with this information is up to you, but at minimum you must ask yourself whether you are truly irresolute, or simply dawdling."

Donnic, not knowing how to respond, settled for a nod as he escorted her outside of the dance area before parting ways.

-==0==-

"You owe me one," Donnic said to Varric as he rejoined Aveline, who was upstairs at the railing, speaking with the dwarf and Misery while looking over the main floor below.

"Why's that? From here it went well enough, at least when you weren't tripping her. Who was that guy anyway? He beat a hasty retreat after you cut in."

Donnic shook his head. "Lady Leandra didn't volunteer that information, nor did I ask. He was cordial, though being wary of my blade may or may not have had something to do with that. Either that or he was anxious to see someone else put to questioning. Come to think of it, I should have suggested that she speak with Aveline about that opening we have for an interrogator. I believe she would do quite well."

Misery raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. She wasn't even certain what was being discussed, not having been present when Varric asked Donnic to intervene. When she'd returned from speaking with Fenris in the kitchen and saw Donnic and Mother dancing, she automatically thought he asked her just to be polite. After all, as far as she knew, Mother was the lone exception to her own 'couples only' rule of invitation.

"What sort of things did she ask you?" Aveline asked. She had her assumptions, which were easy enough to come by given the lack of other common ground between Donnic and Leandra, but didn't think Leandra would say anything overly revealing or that could jeopardize things.

Donnic paused, considering how much to say. There was the issue of not wanting to create an awkward situation by saying something Aveline would find embarrassing, and the issue of not wanting to create an awkward situation by saying something their co-hostess would take offense to. And beyond that, he wasn't sure he wanted to invite additional questions he wasn't prepared to answer.

Varric laughed at the twitching of Donnic's lips reflecting his consternation. "Must have been something, eh?" He gestured to his own companion. "Now you know where the Hawke girls get that uncanny ability to make you squirm from." Misery rolled her eyes.

"Was it really so bad?" Aveline asked after Donnic's silence lingered several more seconds. Subconsciously she braced herself in order to avoid overreacting if it truly was.

"No, I suppose not," the guardsman finally admitted. "The song did end before she got to ask what we intended to name our first child."

Varric quickly added, "…and apparently where Sunshine got her matchmaking tendencies from…"

Aveline sighed, but otherwise pushed back the wave of anxiety before it could surge. Her belief in Leandra aided that difficult task, as did Donnic's somewhat sarcastic delivery possibly indicating that he wasn't as put off as she feared. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out how to respond in a way that would smooth things over without potentially discouraging him.

Misery preempted Aveline's reply, contributing to the conversation for the first time. "While suffering from the saar-qamek I told Mother that she should probably turn her attention toward marrying Aveline off instead of me. It never occurred to me that she would actually do so."

"Leandra means well," Aveline answered before turning to Donnic. "I take it that was the crux of what she had to say?"

"I… I suppose so, yes."

"I see… well, in any case, I don't know exactly what was said, but I'm sorry if you were unfairly put on the spot and made uncomfortable."

Donnic returned her slight smile. "No worse for wear. Caught off guard really… a rather embarrassing admission for a guardsman, isn't it? Good thing Brennan isn't here to bust my balls about it."

Aveline chuckled, glad that he was both taking it in good humor and wasn't trying to force a conversation best continued later in private. "Understandable though," she said. "Hmmm… I haven't actually seen Brennan and Maecon in a while."

"Me either," Donnic said, looking around. "But I doubt they would've left without saying something."

Misery merely shrugged when they looked to her.

Varric waved until he got Daisy's attention, motioning for her to come over.

"Refreshments, messeres?" the elf asked, bowing her head slightly while holding out the serving tray.

"As if you even have to ask," Varric replied while taking a glass. "But that isn't why we called you over. Have you seen Aveline's other people around?"

She nodded. "I believe they are investigating one of Messere Hawke's guest rooms."

"Investigating?" Misery asked, instantly becoming concerned. "What for?"

"I don't know. I only overheard them discussing the need to conduct a bed check. They were laughing, and they are with the Guard of course, so I thought it wasn't important to bring to your attention right away."

The responses varied. Aveline and Donnic groaned in unison, while Varric nearly snorted the swig of wine he'd just taken. It took those reactions and a moment longer for Misery to catch on, and when it did she ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. Merrill frowned at the negative reactions.

"Did… did I do something wrong?"

Varric moved close enough to whisper to the elf, whose eyes grew comically wide as she learned what the guardsmen were really up to. "o-oh… oh…" she said softly.

Aveline practically snatched a glass from Merrill's tray, though she managed to resist the urge to down the drink in a couple of large gulps. Having invited them, she felt responsible for their behavior.

After Merrill scurried away in response to another's call, Varric clapped Donnic on the back. "See, you had nothing to worry about with Brennan busting your balls. She's already preoccupied with Maecon's balls. So to speak…"

"Varric…" Aveline grumbled, while Donnic forced an awkward chuckle.

Misery shook her head. "Come on, V, I want another dance."

She grabbed the dwarf by the arm and tugged, not waiting for an answer and not caring how abrupt she came across. Then again, it wasn't like he was going to protest dancing with her, nor was Aveline going to protest ending this particular conversation.

-==0==-

"Please, Merrill, leave it be," Leandra gently chided after entering the study. "You have done more than enough." She swept her hand, motioning towards Mireille and her companions occupying the couch and a few chairs that had been dragged into the room. "Sit, enjoy what little is left of this evening."

Though the party had finished winding down and the only remaining people who didn't call the Hawke estate home were Varric, Aveline, Donnic, Fenris, and Merrill, the female elf was still playing the servant, busying herself with picking up and cleaning while the others sat in conversation.

"Are you certain, messere? I do not mind."

"I am quite certain. I'm grateful for all of your help this evening, but Bodahn can take it from here. His is, after all, being paid to do so."

Misery cut off Donnic's story in mid-sentence. "And stop with the honorifics," she called out to Merrill from across the room. "Party's over, the masks are off, and everyone here knows you."

"S-sorry…" Merrill replied, blushing slightly.

"Agreed," Leandra said, nodding. "The time for such formality has passed, and is inappropriate between friends."

The elf smiled. As Donnic resumed where he left off, Merrill lowered her voice so that only Leandra could hear her and said, "You have never called me that before. 'Friend', I mean."

"Do you not believe we are?"

"No, I do… it's just… sometimes it's nice to hear, even if it only confirms what I already believe."

Leandra noted the tinge of wistfulness in the girl's tone. Recalling other conversations with her as well, she suspected that Merrill struggled with loneliness, something she herself had known well.

She grabbed the younger woman's wrist and pulled her over to the doorway, far enough from the others to ensure her words were not overheard. "Then let me say this. You have become dear to me, to Mireille even more so. We are no substitute for your clan, and I wouldn't intend to suggest otherwise, but know there is a place for you here as well."

"I don't… don't know what to say…"

"Oh, I don't believe anything profound is required. A simple acknowledgement of understanding will suffice."

Merrill bowed her head before stepping forward and embracing Leandra. "Ma serannas," she whispered.

Leandra smiled as she returned the embrace, "See, that wasn't very difficult."

"Something wrong?" Misery asked as she joined them just outside the room.

"Not at all," Leandra answered while separating from Merrill.

The elf nodded. "Only me being silly and overreacting to her saying I am a dear friend."

Misery shook her head. "How was that even still in doubt?" She sighed before adding, "Look, if you haven't figured it out by now, you're practically family. So stop worrying about that stuff."

Merrill opened her mouth to explain, but before she could, Misery spun on her heels and went back into the study. Instead she just closed her mouth without saying anything.

Leandra laughed at the reaction. "Blunt, but I believe there is no mistaking her meaning."

"No, I don't suppose there is either," Merrill agreed, letting out a light laugh of her own. "She is good at that though. Putting things into clear perspective, I mean. I appreciate that about her."

Rather than reply, Leandra gave her a nudge in the back to indicate they should rejoin the others as well. The younger woman took the hint and they went inside. Leandra stopped upon entering though and frowned slightly at the realization that there wasn't an open chair or spot on the couch for her to sit other than the place next to her daughter that the dwarf had presumably vacated only long enough to refill his drink. While Merrill was content enough to take a seat on the edge of the desk, she opted to just stand.

Varric laughed as he turned from the refreshment table spinning a now empty bottle in one hand while holding his half-filled glass in the other. "That takes care of that," he said. "Not bad on the planning, made it almost to the end of the night before the wine ran out. I suppose it's a good thing Rivaini didn't come after all. You'd have run out hours ago."

Aveline grimaced at the thought of Isabela potentially having attended. Not only because of the situation with Brennan and Maecon earlier that she was still somewhat embarrassed by, but because she could only imagine the not-so-subtle innuendo and teasing Isabela would have given her in front of Donnic.

Misery shrugged. "I invited her, but she declined. Might have been because I told her she couldn't lift valuables off the other guests. It wouldn't have mattered though. I'd have just gone to the cellar for another case."

Varric stopped walking as soon as he saw the elder Hawke standing off by the side quietly observing. He immediately recognized the problem.

"Seriously?" he asked, tsk'ing the others sarcastically. "None of you bums thought to offer Mama Hawke your seat?" He turned to her. "Kids these days, I tell ya. Please, have mine," he added, gesturing to where he'd previously been sitting.

Donnic immediately stood, his face flush with embarrassment. "Or mine," he offered. "Forgive me for not noticing you standing there."

Leandra flashed something between a smile and a smirk. She really hadn't expected the dwarf of all present to recognize proper etiquette, let alone act upon it. That aside, the decision to take his spot next to her daughter was an easy one. She'd rather separate them than Aveline and Donnic. "Thank you, both. Next to my daughter is fine."

While the older woman moved to sit down, Donnic had another thought. "Serah Tethras- Varric, I mean," he began, quickly correcting himself knowing the dwarf didn't want to be addressed formally. "You referred to the rest of us as 'kids'… and often speak in a manner that suggests you've been around Kirkwall a very long time… such as earlier when we were discussing some of the issues facing the Guard and you brought up guard-captains and events from well, before I was born in some cases. So… I was wondering…"

"Yes?" Varric asked when the guardsman didn't immediately continue.

"Well, perhaps it isn't polite to ask, but I'm quite curious as to how old you are."

Varric being Varric, a straight answer wasn't in the cards. His expression turned solemn as he first stared into his glass and then looked around the room. He sighed lightly. "Eighty-seven."

Most of the room gasped in unison.

"Wh-what?" Misery asked in disbelief. "You're old enough to be my… my great-grandfather?"

The dwarf noted that her expression and tone was less astonishment and more revulsion, and could guess that she was processing the info in the context of their budding relationship. But he wasn't ready to let her off the hook just yet.

"You don't have to look at me like I'm some dirty old man," he answered with a shrug.

Merrill spoke up. "Hmmm… am I the only one skeptical here? Perhaps I'm not an expert on the Durgen'len, but nothing I have ever heard or read suggests they are a long-lived race."

Varric laughed. "Wow… what is the world coming to when Daisy of all people calls B.S. on me?"

"I wasn't going to say anything," Fenris said, smirking. "I also doubt the truth of that. Thirty-seven perhaps, but not eighty-seven."

"I'm hurt… have you ever known me to lie about something so… unimportant?"

"Yes," Aveline, Fenris, and Merrill answered simultaneously, while Misery shook her head and groaned.

"I can't believe I fell for that…" she said. "I'm clearly slipping."

He started to make a joke about being scared that she trusted him to the point of not questioning him before deciding against it. That type of self-deprecating humor played well with friends, but he wasn't sure Mama Hawke knew him well enough to interpret it as intended.

Instead he had another thought. "Hey, Miz," he began, holding up his wine glass. "You said something about getting another case from the cellar. So you mean to tell me this shit- err… stuff is house wine and not bought from a merchant?"

Misery laughed. "Speaking of things that almost made it the entire night," she began, recalling his earlier remark about the wine running out, "you were doing so well at not swearing," she teased.

"I'd act indignant about knowing how to behave in polite company, but I kind of blew that just now. Sorry, Mama Hawke."

"I've heard much worse, I assure you," she answered with the wave of a hand. "Still, I appreciate the effort."

"Anyway," Misery said, "to answer your question, yes the wine came from our cellar. Is that so unusual?"

Varric rubbed his chin in thought. "I've had a lot of house wine in my day, and most of it tastes like… well, you know… compared to what real wineries produce. This stuff is actually good enough to sell."

"I'll have to take your word for it. I don't remember what it actually tastes like."

Aveline raised an eyebrow. "How's that? You've drank at least half a bottle's worth tonight."

"Thought you knew my sense of taste is gone."

The redhead's expression grew more curious before realization set in and her shoulders slumped. "The saar-qamek… I'm sorry, Hawke, I didn't know."

Donnic nodded. "I know this is no consolation, but knowing now you suffered irreparable harm makes me appreciate your actions all the more. Kirkwall owes you a debt."

Misery wasn't looking for sympathy, nor was she inclined to explain that with how poor both her health and the outlook of it improving had been, living with almost no sense of smell or taste was, for lack of a better term, palatable. She knew she was fortunate that her vision escaped the same fate, with the slight fuzziness of very close objects being the only lingering consequence. And while she wasn't yet close to her peak fighting strength, her strength and endurance had already improved to the point where she felt the remaining deficiencies were due to a couple months of inactivity rather than something actually being wrong with her.

Instead, she smirked and replied, "Well, you can hold off on building a statue in my honor. I'm no do-gooder and I didn't do it for Kirkwall."

She then answered Donnic's quizzical expression by nodding towards Aveline while maintaining eye contact with him and continuing, "I did it for the friend who said she needed me."

"O-oh… I see…" he said, shifting a bit uncomfortably. "I suppose then that's another reason to admire Aveline. She inspires loyalty in her friends as well as her troops."

Aveline, who had been trying to decide how to respond to Misery's statement, blushed slightly. It didn't go unnoticed by Varric, who began to laugh.

"Wait, you got the tough as steel Guard-Captain to blush? I didn't think that was actually possible."

Leandra answered first. "A woman's softer emotions are hers to share or guard as she sees fit. And it would be a mistake to assume they don't exist simply because you haven't been granted the privilege of seeing them."

"Varric clearly lacks experience with difficult women," Misery deadpanned.

"Good point," he said, matching her sarcasm. "I can't think of anyone I know that could possibly be called difficult."

"Rigghht…" Aveline said, drawing out the word.

Varric waved his hand. "Anyway, Miz, getting back to the subject of the wine… Any chance you still have the recipe? Could be profitable, and I'm sure Mama Hawke wouldn't mind seeing you make a living at something with a lower fatality rate." His eyes began to gleam at the prospects.

"I'm certain she would…" Misery agreed. "But I have no idea about the recipe."

Leandra blinked. Just like that, the possibility of steering her daughter into a respectable, less dangerous line of work dropped in her lap like a gift from the Maker. "It-it is in the vault."

He nodded in acknowledgement before looking back to Misery. "And I assume you didn't get rid of the press and bottling equipment when you cleared space for a training area?"

"No, whatever we have is still down there, piled up in a corner."

"Perfect! So whaddaya say, we'll get production and distribution going and I'll give you 30% of the profits."

Misery shrugged. "Whatever, I suppose."

Leandra, on the other hand, thought differently. "You expect her to provide the entire means of producing the Amell wine and only receive 30%? What value can you possibly add that is worth 70%?"

"Mother…" Misery began before Varric waved her off with a laugh.

"Good catch! I threw that number out there to see if she'd even react. But no, for all her strengths, she's still terrible about accepting whatever someone offers without even trying to sweeten the deal. So for one, it's clear I won't be sending her to negotiate any deals."

Misery scoffed. "Not sharing your love of coin and not trying to squeeze every last copper out of someone doesn't mean I get taken advantage of. If I choose to take a job, it's because the payment or reward is worth my time. If I'm buying or selling, I pay or ask what I consider reasonable value. And I have no problem walking away if a proposed deal isn't satisfactory."

Left unspoken was that at times in the past she also hadn't been averse to simply taking what she wanted if the price wasn't agreeable.

"Yeah… hence the reason why on our group jobs you manage all the strategy details and I handle the finances."

"Varric has a point, you know," Aveline said with a slight chuckle. "For someone with such an assertive personality, you're remarkably passive when it comes to matters of money. It's quaint I suppose. At least as long as short selling yourself isn't hurting you."

Aveline wasn't going to elaborate in the current group setting, but she knew Misery had in fact been financially exploited a few times during their first year in Kirkwall due to her inexperience with large city culture and economy, and not all of it could be pinned on Athenril. Aveline had never been Varric's biggest fan, but she'd readily admit that meeting someone like him was exactly what Misery and Bethany had needed at the time.

"Fault her parents for that," Leandra said softly, "not her." She paused before continuing, "We are the ones who taught her that when doing business with strangers it's better to take less than to make a fuss that could leave the other party disgruntled or draw unnecessary attention from others. We taught her that the welfare of her family and herself was measured in more than mere coin. If her judgment errs in that regard, the fault lies with Malcolm and me."

Varric winced both at finally understanding the significance of something he'd teased Misery about more than once over the years and at the distant expression on her face in the present. He knew all too well how quickly her mood could sour, and how touching on the wrong personal topic at the wrong time was a common flashpoint. But he also suspected that attempting to immediately deflect the subject with humor would meet with disapproval from Mama Hawke given the tone of her explanation.

In reality, however, Misery's mind wandered for a very different reason. She was trying and failing to remember the last time Mother came to her defense over anything. It was a simultaneous reminder of both how bad their relationship had been and how much it had improved.

Varric held up his hands as if in surrender. "Sorry, didn't know there was a story behind it or I wouldn't have teased. In all seriousness, what I really have in mind is 70/30 the other way around. No joke there. I bring the experience of running a business, setting up distribution deals, estimating inventory needs against future sales, and I know the ins and outs of getting things done with the Merchant's Guild. And I also won't let anyone rip her off."

"What relevance would the dwarves' Merchant Guild have for a human-owned business?" Leandra asked.

"The Guild has its claws in most of the commerce that takes place in this city. And what isn't under the Guild's purview is subject to interference from even less savory organizations like the Coterie. So if you have designs on running a legitimate business, you're better off doing what's necessary to get the Guild's backing."

Leandra contemplated it briefly before nodding. "I will defer the decision to my daughter, but I have no objections."

"Whatever, I suppose," Misery said, echoing her previous answer. "I don't know the first thing about winemaking though. So I suppose unless you already know a guy, we'll have to look for help. It'll have to wait at least a little while though. I have some other commitments to take care of first."

Varric nodded. "That's alright. The bureaucratic B.S. alone of filing forms, greasing palms, and waiting for approvals will take weeks. And there are other details to sort through and decisions to make. It should go without saying though that I'll keep you as involved or not involved as you want. But anyway, there's no rush."

Misery was content to merely return a nod and let the conversation shift to another topic. For Leandra's part, she mostly tuned out the ensuing discussion while thinking about not only what had just transpired between the dwarf and her daughter, but about them more generally.

She'd observed and interacted with Varric enough to see the traits Aveline had half warned half informed her of. He had a mischievous personality to go with a quick wit, was almost too good at charming an audience, and had a borderline obsession with coin. Dwarves in general were reputed as both shrewd and greedy when it came to money, and he seemed every bit that. And Leandra recognized that even though he pitched the idea of a wine business in terms of their benefit, the plan wasn't without self-interest as he stood to profit handsomely if it worked out. Coin had even been the impetus behind his original introduction to her daughters.

However, Leandra was also cognizant of a man that was the only stable male influence in her daughter's life. She'd seen for herself him placing Mireille's needs above his own in meaningful ways that couldn't be dismissed as merely protecting an investment. She knew his voice carried real weight with Mireille, which spoke volumes when Leandra barely needed a second hand to count the number of people her daughter had ever afforded that much influence.

Furthermore, it was becoming clear that his courting of her daughter was no longer the hypothetical situation Mireille had posed not all that long ago, and that wishing away its existence was a futile endeavor that did no one any favors. Though even then she was less convinced than ever that prohibiting it was the right thing to do.

Leandra hadn't had a change of heart regarding the relationship. It was still not her preference, and outwardly nothing had changed since the time she told her daughter that she would neither bless nor forbid such a union – giving permission but not approval for it. However, her internal stance, which had been far more rigid and uncompromising, was beginning to soften in response to the subtle and not so subtle changes in her daughter's demeanor.

Mireille's state of mind was as healthy as it had ever been. While there were multiple people and reasons responsible for that, one needn't connect very many dots in order to clearly see the dwarf's place in the picture. Not that Leandra truly understood how things got to that point.

Mireille rarely offered personal thoughts regarding other people of her own accord, and Leandra would admit that throughout the many hours of mother/daughter conversations in recent months, she hadn't inquired of him or done much to encourage conversation topics revolving around him. That left the elder Hawke with little more than her own impressions and the words of Aveline, Bethany, and Merrill to explain Varric and why he meant so much to Mireille. And it left her with the realization that those were wholly insufficient, and that if nothing else, she owed her daughter the opportunity to speak for herself. She resolved to give her the chance to do just that sooner rather than later.

-==0==-

"Can't sleep?" Misery asked after entering her study and moving towards the previously lone occupant.

Despite the soft volume of her words, the close proximity and sudden breaking of silence caused Varric to jerk and nearly drop the book he'd been thumbing through.

"Maker's breath, it's a good thing you're not an assassin." Recalling that she'd done a bit of work with the Crows during her time in Antiva, he amended that, saying, "At least not one targeting me anyway. I'd have been dead before even knowing you were here."

"That's how those things are supposed to be done, you know that yourself. But no, you're safe… for now."

He chuckled. "Well, if anyone is going to be the death of me, my bet is on you. To answer your question though, I wasn't sleepy when the rest of you retired, so I figured I'd find something boring to read to help that along." He motioned towards the bookcases at the side of the room. "Didn't have to look hard, almost everything there qualifies."

"Ahhh, yeah… I hear it's rather common for old people to have trouble sleeping."

"So what's your story then?" he asked after laughing at her sarcastic reference to him lying about his age earlier.

Misery leaned back against the desk. "Thirst, that's all," she said while holding up the mug in her hand. With her other hand she gestured to the small oil lamp on the table next to him, the sole source of light in an otherwise darkened room. "Saw the light while passing by, figured it was either you or Merrill, so I stopped on my way back from getting water."

He nodded while continuing to nonchalantly take in her appearance. The barefoot woman wore a loose fitting white button down shirt that would probably be more of a gown if it reached lower than mid-thigh. Then again, calling it a button down was a little bit misleading when only a single navel height button was actually holding it closed. He could guess at even that semblance of modesty being almost an afterthought while making her way from upstairs.

Regardless, it was his gain. Even if Misery being here like this wasn't going to amount to anything other than some new fantasy material, he was going to take that much at least.

"Thirty-two, by the way," Varric offered, though his goal was less to inform and more to use otherwise innocent small talk as an excuse to delay her return to bed.

"What's that?"

"In case you were wondering how old I am."

"Ahhh… not really. I teased you for pulling one over on me. I still can't believe I bought that."

Varric laughed. "There you go again with that disturbing lack of curiosity. Anyway, they say it's poor etiquette to ask a woman her age, but whatever… how about you?"

"Me? No, I'm not thirty-two." Instead of elaborating, a slight grin played across her lips.

"Do I get to guess?"

"Whatever…"

He rubbed his chin as if contemplating it. "Well, I'm not going to put you on the wrong side of thirty even if I thought you were. That could be dangerous."

Misery shrugged. "I'd have to care about that sort of thing first."

"True enough. But no, I'd peg you at maybe twenty-six."

She shook her head. "Not maybe twenty-six either."

"Hmmm…. I have to at least be close. And unless Sunshine isn't as old as I thought, I can't see you being any younger than that."

"I'm not."

He grinned back. Her sense of humor was… well, offbeat would be the polite euphemism for it… and tended to manifest itself unexpectedly. He'd learned early on to appreciate these infrequent moments when she allowed herself to be, daresay, silly. Perhaps she was still feeling the effects of her wine intake during and after the party, but regardless he wasn't going to complain. The lighthearted mood only added luster to her physical appearance, which still held most of his attention.

Very rarely did he see her in anything but armor covering every inch of flesh from the neck down. And while there were times she'd remove her armor in his presence, the thin underlying cottons that provided a comfort barrier between leather and skin were equally practical, revealing only the portions of her arms and legs otherwise covered by gauntlets and boots. The rare times he'd seen her in anything else were almost always in ankle length dresses, whether those be formal or casual.

Of course, there was that one exception still engraved on his mind's eye, a few days after her return from Antiva when he'd unexpectedly interrupted her training. She hadn't been dressed then much differently than she was now. What was different, however, was that catching her by surprise and in a rage had resulted in a knife to his throat followed by her quickly donning a robe, whereas at present she showed no signs of being uncomfortable with him seeing her like this.

On the contrary, the casual manner in which she stood on one foot, having slowly slid the other foot behind her up the side of the desk, practically demanded that his eyes focus on her legs' lack of cover. Coming from almost anyone else, Varric wouldn't have even questioned the seductiveness that was already stirring his arousal. He'd have interpreted it as clear intent. However, this was Misery, who'd never shown even the slightest hint of having that side to her personality.

He hoped he was wrong, but at this point he was inclined to believe she was oblivious to what she was doing and the effect it was having on him. Not that the book now strategically held over his lap gave the latter away.

He was somewhat correct.

Misery understood that she was an attractive woman even though she rarely thought about such things herself. More specifically, she knew Varric found her attractive. She hadn't made the connection between that fact and her attire though prior to making her presence known. And even now, aware of his exploring eyes, she wasn't consciously doing anything suggestive.

However, she didn't need to be self-aware in order to understand that she was being looked upon with sexual interest. That pleased, amused, and made her slightly nervous all at the same time, though the amusement was little more than a coping mechanism to distract herself from the more earnest emotions being provoked.

Despite what others probably thought about her, Misery wasn't exactly immune to sexual desire herself. It was true that she had little experience with that feeling. She was, after all, still a virgin, as her lone sexual experience of any kind had been one-sided and forced upon her.

However, the reasons for her lack of experience with desire itself weren't necessarily what people would expect. For Misery, desire wasn't a standalone emotion triggered by looking upon a handsome man and allowing imagination to take over from there. Nor was it a temporary shelter from loneliness or even boredom. Rather, desire was tightly intertwined with the bonds of affection, trust, respect, attachment – bonds formed neither quickly nor easily.

That wasn't to say Misery was so idealistic that physical attractiveness had no role to play. It was merely of lesser importance to her than other traits. And while her own sense of physical beauty didn't naturally draw her to dwarves, she'd readily admit that Varric was well put together. The dwarf's current state of dress was an unneeded but not unwelcome reminder of that, because it wasn't the essence of modesty either.

Varric hadn't given his appearance a second thought either before or after Misery's unexpected entrance, but with the other inhabitants of the estate – the Hawkes, Daisy, Bodahn and Sandal – having retired hours earlier, he'd ditched the formal jacket and shirt as well as the fancy boots in favor of comfort. Being clad only in pants was hardly scandalous for a male, even less so when it was as would be sleeping attire.

But now, as Misery's own eyes casually wandered Varric's bare upper half at the same time he was ogling her, it didn't matter that she'd seen him like this many times in the past without feeling anything. Her current mood, her feelings for him, and the atmosphere of the situation conspired with his physical appeal to form something more than mere attraction. The desire percolating in her was the result of everything he was to her.

The problem was that the conflicting feeling of trepidation wasn't relenting even as she tried to ignore it. But rather than taking a mental step back in order to at least attempt to understand the source of it, she instead began actively rationalizing away its existence.

You're making this a bigger deal than it really is.

You're only nervous because you've never done this before.

Not having planned for this in advance doesn't mean you were unaware that it would eventually come up. At this point, does it truly matter if it happens now versus next week, next month, or whenever?

You'll be fine once you get into it and your concentration is on other things…

It doesn't even have to progress all the way to sex. You're in control. You can stop at any time. There is nothing to fear.

He's been very patient while accommodating your needs. Are you being fair to his?

He has done so much more for you - often for nothing in return - than you have for him. Grant him at least some intimacy. He deserves it.

Shifting the context of the rationalizations from herself to Varric didn't eliminate her nagging unease, but suppressed it enough to convince herself that she was okay. Objectifying the state of their relationship as an imaginary unbalanced ledger of commitment between them enabled her to further construct the dubious framework for an unhealthy decision.

Misery wished that in this instance Varric would solve her dilemma by taking the initiative. She wouldn't refuse him if he did. But no, he was doing what she'd all but demanded of him when agreeing to give romantic entanglement a chance – allowing her full, unpressured control of the pace and progression. It would be up to her to expand the boundaries.

With both Misery and Varric absorbed by personal thoughts born of their current setting, the pause in their conversation had grown into a prolonged silence. Unlike his partner, Varric was at least consciously aware of it, but he also hadn't been anxious to do anything about it, content enough with appreciating the woman a scant few feet away. His curiosity piqued, however, when his line of sight moved above her chest for the first time in seemingly minutes and he noticed that her slightly distant, contemplative wandering gaze wasn't exactly directed at his eyes either.

"So…" he began, pausing to chuckle at Misery's reaction to the sudden, unexpected sound interrupting her thought process. "As humorous as the age game has been, counting up from twenty-six until you tell me I'm right isn't very sporting. Anyway, it's not import-"

"Twenty-eight," she answered, cutting him off with a dismissive wave of her hand, a response she immediately recognized as edgier than intended. "I mean, sorry… I forgot we were even talking about that."

He laughed. "Guess that pays you back for startling me earlier, eh?" After several seconds passed without a response, he asked, "You alright?"

The question garnered a smirk from her. "You ask as if you don't already know the answer."

"Yeah, yeah…" he replied, grumbling playfully. "But you give me a straight answer just often enough for me to keep asking."

Misery set her mug on the desk before pushing off and taking a step closer. "Note to self," she said, borrowing one of his catchphrases, "Avoid straight answers in the future…"

"Yeah… you know, that isn't the direction to go wi- mmmph… owww!"

Misery cut him off by impulsively lunging forward to kiss him. However, she went in so fast that it ended up being more of a painful clacking together of teeth than anything else. She pulled back momentarily, then reengaged with only slightly less force than before. Varric grunted, then when she didn't relent finally turned his head to break contact.

"Hold up," he said before running his tongue across his upper lip, surprised to find it wasn't actually bleeding. "You don't have to hurt me to get a kiss. I'm not exactly unwilling here."

"Sorry…" she muttered while running the pad of her index finger over her own lips. "I… never mind…"

She leaned back in, pressing her lips to his firmly, though not so firmly this time as to cause discomfort. Still, Varric could feel the tension in her lips through his own, and while she wasn't pulling away, she wasn't really doing anything but holding her ground. It didn't take him long to realize she didn't actually know how to kiss – or at least not how to kiss romantically. Of course, he was smart enough not to actually say anything to that effect.

Instead, he put a hand on either side of her face and gently pushed until she got the hint and broke contact. "Relax," he whispered before just as gently pulling her back to him. He captured her bottom lip between his, encouraging her to heed him by lightly sucking on her lip then releasing it while at the same time running the tips of his fingers over her cheeks and down her jawline.

Misery was glad Varric figured out that he needed to take the lead, though thinking of her own incompetence didn't trigger a sense of insecurity or inadequacy. On the contrary, it provoked another thought that briefly gave her the giggles.

"Ummm… ticklish?" Varric asked as he tilted back far enough clearly see her face. He couldn't think of any other reason for the sudden laughter.

"Not that… the irony… of what I imagine your anticipation was as compared to reality. It made me think of the times we'd find some highly guarded treasure, only to be rather… underwhelmed once we finally got at the contents."

"I'm not underwhelmed, Miz. Far from it."

"Uh huh…" she muttered, her tone indicating that she didn't believe him in the slightest. Rather than give him the chance to protest that, however, she reestablished lip contact, attempting to mimic what he'd been doing to her.

With her beginning to catch on, Varric slid one hand through her hair until it reached the back of her head, while the other hand went to her shoulder. Misery acquiesced to the insistent tug, moving one hand from the arm of the chair to draping it over the back while her other hand fell to his chest, at the same time resting her shin across his thigh as she went from standing on both feet to half standing half straddling him. Varric took advantage of the position shift to move his hand from her shoulder to her thigh, squeezing the cool to the touch flesh.

Misery's mind continued racing despite her effort not to overthink things. She was also keenly aware that she'd left the door open. With the situation slowly escalating, that was something to take care of sooner rather than later. She waited another minute or so before pulling back.

"Better?" she whispered. "Or are low expectations still being met?"

"For the record, self-deprecating humor really doesn't suit you. Please stop."

Misery met his gaze for a moment before nodding. "As you wish…" she said, extracting herself from him and turning away.

Varric stared at her retreating form in disbelief. "Hey, I only meant for you to stop poking at yourself. Not to leave."

Misery didn't reply immediately. Instead she continued to the door, closing it and turning the lock. Only then did she turn around and flash the wicked grin that he hadn't been able to see. As she began retracing her steps towards him, he chuckled while shaking his head, realizing she'd intentionally misrepresented her intentions just to mess with him.

"Score another round for Hawke. You got me there."

Again she didn't offer a verbal response. After closing the gap, she grabbed the book that still lay open upside down on his lap and set it aside on the table next to them. Then she eased into the chair with him, straddling his lap completely.

Varric instinctively straightened his back and tilted his chin up so Misery wouldn't need to scrunch herself down so much to accommodate the height difference in this position. She intercepted him though, putting both hands on his chest and pushing until he leaned back. Without breaking eye contact, she released the lone fastened button on her shirt, then let the front of it open wider by shrugging it off her shoulders.

"Are these what you were attempting to catch a glimpse of earlier?" she asked with a knowing tease to her tone.

The widening of his eyes, low whistle, and his own arousal making its presence felt between her legs stated the obvious, though it had truly been a question that needed no answer.

Their height difference worked to his advantage in this position, as it put the goods on display at face level, perfect for a proper inspection. Starting with his hands on her hips, he slowly slid them upward while soaking in the view.

As they passed over her ribcage, he couldn't prevent the brief thought that while she'd gained back some of the weight lost while poisoned, she was still too thin. However, that wasn't something he was going to point out now, and the thought was gone a moment later when his hands reached their goal. He lightly traced one of the already elongated nipples with his fingernail. As it responded further to his encouragement, he pressed his finger alongside.

"Damn…" he whispered with a hint of astonishment at its length. Recalling the recent time he'd teased her for misinterpreting a comment about the metal rivets on her armor, he said, "I think you really could put an eye out with these things." He alternated between rolling the nipple between his thumb and index finger and gently tugging on it. "Studded armor has nothing on these…"

"Sh-should I add deformed breasts to my list… of sh-shortcomings?" Her attempt at sarcasm was mostly undone by the partially breathless delivery of the line.

Varric didn't give her the satisfaction of a straight answer. Instead he ran his left hand inside her shirt, across her ribcage and over her hip until it reached to her lower back, while shifting his other hand to cup the breast itself. He then leveraged both until mouth met flesh halfway, grinning smugly in response to her sharp intake of air as his lips took possession, followed immediately by a decidedly un-Misery-like guttural exhale. Emboldened by her favorable reaction, Varric moved the hand on her back lower, squeezing her butt both for his own enjoyment and to spur her into pushing her hips forward.

Misery's mind was adrift in new sensations, so much so that her own participation only amounted to digging her fingernails into his shoulders in response to each new pleasure he pulled from her. Varric wasn't bothered by the nails – they weren't causing more than mild discomfort – but he was a bit surprised that she was now very passive after having initially been the aggressor. He was too distracted to give it much consideration, quickly settling on the assumption that it was the same as with kissing – rushing in without knowing what to do once she got there.

He reached up and took hold of one of her wrists, pulling down until her hand reached his chest. "It's okay to use your hands," he mumbled while guiding her fingertips in circular motion around one of his nipples. "Mine are sensitive too…"

"Oh… al-alright…" Misery brought her other hand to his chest as well and attempting to reciprocate the stimulation she'd received. "I'm certain it's obvious, but I'm… learning as we go… this is new to me."

"Lucky for me you're a fast learner… and lucky for you, I'm yours to practice on as much as possible- err… as much as you want… in the pursuit of knowledge, of course."

Misery laughed. "Such a noble sacrifice."

Rather than answer, Varric returned to his oral ministrations. While Misery was the beneficiary of that, his head forward against her chest also left her hands less space to effectively work against his chest. Still, she did what she could.

While tweaking his nipples and running her fingers through Varric's chest hair, Misery had the thought that the hair was surprisingly soft, far less coarse than she'd expected. This wasn't the first time she'd felt his chest hair of course, but prior occasions had been acts of aggression that hadn't lasted more than a couple of seconds each.

That led to another fleeting thought. For years Misery had assumed that Varric and Isabela had some sort of physical relationship given Isabela's ongoing teasing of him about playing with his chest hair, teasing that at times strongly implied a previous history of it with him. Misery had never cared, and had cared even less to actually ask Varric about it, but now it came to mind that she could kind of understand the appeal and Isabela's apparent fascination with it.

'Random Thoughts by Misery' was interrupted when Varric upped the ante, slipping his hand in from the side underneath her underwear, grasping and kneading the bare flesh directly before venturing further. She exhaled through her teeth as the tips of his fingers wandered downward until they brushed against the edge of her womanhood. She'd have doubted the dwarf's reach, at least if she had considered it, but present reality was proving him quite resourceful.

Her quandary was the competing pleasures of the position she was in and which one to engage. Thrusting her hips in the direction that increased the stimulation from his probing fingers simultaneously decreased the sensation she'd been receiving from that battering ram of his insistently pressuring her front lines, and vice versa.

She could tell from Varric's muffled noises that he was finding amusement in her squirming indecisiveness. While she appreciated his slow approach of taking and securing his advantages, giving her moments of respite to regroup before resuming his welcomed assault on her senses, she was also beginning to get a little frustrated at being unable to mount much offense in return.

Distracted as she was, Misery was still aware that Varric's state of arousal was a product of the situation rather than her feeble actions to this point. Inexperience be damned, her pride demanded that she at least attempt a counterattack of sorts.

With his face against her chest and his arms and hands around and behind her, her own arms were semi-pinned with her hands on his chest. In the current position, her partial right hand was going to be the easier of the two to maneuver. She pinched one of his nipples with her left hand a little harder than necessary, then took advantage of his involuntary flinch to free her other arm. From there she quickly dragged her nails across his taut abdomen, continuing downward until she was able to wedge her hand between them and grasp the front of his trousers, or more importantly considering her goal, the erection straining against it.

Varric's light nipping at her collarbone turned into a deep growl of pleasure. Caught up in his carnal reaction was the thought of lifting her by the ass, carrying her to the couch, and burying his face between her legs. If they were at his place he'd do just that, except in his suite the destination would be the bed.

Here, however, they were in a damned human-sized chair. His feet didn't reach the floor, so consequently he lacked the necessary leverage to pick her up. And since she'd dug her knees in between the armrests and cushion in order to hold her ground as he grinded against her, bucking his hips in an effort to scoot closer to the edge wasn't getting him anywhere. Or to be more precise, it wasn't helping with relocation. It was getting him an ineffectual handjob from the tight grip she had on him, though in this case Misery's inexperience was least to blame for the ineffectiveness.

"Feel free to take it out…" he muttered while trailing his lips back to her breast.

It was Misery's turn to flinch. The combination of Varric's mouth against her skin muting the delivery, the sounds of passion coming from her own mouth at the same time, and distracted focus resulted in her only hearing the last few words.

Take it out.

Instantly her mind's eye flashed back to having been forced to her knees in front of Gascard DuPuis, of that bastard using that exact phrase to begin her humiliation. And in the present, it made no difference that Varric had no way of knowing the poison of those specific words. In fact, she quickly lost all sense of the moment as images and words of the past resurfaced against her will.

Varric had heard the almost strangled gasp accompanying Misery's head whipping back, but the timing coinciding with his lips recapturing one of her nipples caused him to misinterpret the reaction for one of passion. That she didn't release her grip on him when she ceased stroking him through his pants only further delayed his recognition that something was amiss.

Misery screamed silently at DuPuis to get out of her head, as if the dead blood mage was actually capable of either hearing or complying with her demand. And the more she tried not to think of him, the harder it was to think of anything else.

Varric finally caught on to Misery's physical cues and leaned back, staring up at her face questioningly. She was trembling… but not in a good way. Her shallow breathing was passing through clenched teeth, her eyes were squeezed shut, and she appeared all around distressed.

"Hey…" he said softly, trying not to startle her. "What's wrong?"

She exhaled unevenly. "It's fine… fine… I'm f-fine. G-go ahead."

She even tried to convince herself of that, but intellectually understanding that Varric was not DuPuis and was not going to treat her the way he had wasn't enough to salvage the situation.

Under the influence of heightened arousal, Varric first attempted to rationalize taking advantage of her permission to continue and her unwillingness to admit to wanting or needing to stop. It didn't take him long to reject that line of thought though. She may very well let him have his way with her without objection, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be consequences afterward for doing so. Beyond that, his care for her well-being wouldn't let him ignore what she refused to give voice to.

Without an explanation, all he could do was guess that she simply wasn't ready. After all, they hadn't even kissed before she impulsively sprung it on him earlier, and even as things progressed from there he'd gone slow fully expecting that she'd want to stop before reaching the end game. But he hadn't expected that to take the apparent form of Misery shutting herself down. And regardless of her tepid offer for him to continue, it was more than obvious that shutting down was exactly what she was doing. He didn't even need to lament the deflation of those glorious buds on her chest to recognize it.

Varric sighed while taking a moment to soak in the sight of her mostly nude figure. He silently said a sarcastic goodnight to her breasts, saying he hoped to see them again soon. Then he reluctantly returned her partially removed shirt to its normal position and refastened a couple of random buttons. With that done he leaned back and put his hands behind his head, looking up at Misery and waiting for her to speak.

She finally opened her eyes. "Why?" she asked. "I told you I was fine."

He shook his head. "I think it's enough for now. Your body was telling a completely different story, that you're not ready yet. It's alright."

Misery glared. Not wanting to admit what really happened, she countered with an accusatory, "Or perhaps you were the one ready to stop when I only needed a moment to collect myself."

"You're joking, right? You think I closed up shop because I wanted to?" He gestured with both hands to his crotch. "The big fella still isn't happy about not getting out, and don't think I'll be getting to sleep without taking matters into my own hands first and placating him."

"I-I didn't need to know that," Misery replied, continuing to glare as she stood. "But I suppose I'll leave you to your hand then…"

She snatched her mug of water from the desk and made for the door, only for Varric to all but tackle her before she got there.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"No, it isn't going to end like this. You aren't going to blame me or make me feel guilty for seeing you in obvious distress and doing what I thought best for you. The easiest thing in the world would've been for me to take advantage of you with the excuse that you gave me permission to. And I would've done just that if capitalizing on the chance to bed you was all I cared about. But you should damned well know by now that I'm invested in the long-term with you."

The intensity of his words smothered her will to fight. "It had nothing to do with readiness…" she whispered. "I'm… broken… despite my efforts to forget, I'm still under the control of that dead bastard."

"Ummm… come again?" he asked when she didn't immediately elaborate.

"Gascard DuPuis…" she answered with an exasperated sigh.

"Wait, you mean that blood mage you offed a while back?"

"Yeah…"

"I don't understand. If he's dead, how is he controlling you? Does blood magic work that way? Does Daisy know anything about dealing with it?"

Misery shook her head. "No, not control in that sense. I told you… what he did to me when I belonged to Athenril… I'd worked so hard to bury those memories in the darkness… but you… you used the same words he did… and as soon as I heard them it all came rushing back…"

"Ahhh… shit… I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, please. You couldn't have known. But now you do… that's why I fell apart when you told me to 'take it out'. And you need to know that until that happened I was very much ready. Telling you to go ahead anyway wasn't me trying to be stubborn… it was me hoping that you'd bring me back to… I don't know… whatever you'd call that bliss you had me feeling… that you'd push that asshole out of my head."

Varric pulled her into an embrace. "I wish we'd had this conversation instead of the argument. Maybe it wouldn't have saved the mood anyway, but it would've been easier on both of us than having it shatter to bits."

Misery forced a smile. "Perhaps, but I believe you've noted many times that it's never easy when it comes to me. Seems to me I have a reputation to uphold."

"Uh huh…" he answered, recognizing the unspoken apology within the sarcasm. "I suppose the difference is that the old Misery would've let the misunderstanding stand without coming clean. So, credit there."

He sighed and continued, "In all seriousness though, I wish I knew how to help you heal. I doubt it's really as easy as replacing the bad experience with good ones. Not that I'm unwilling to try that of course, I'll give you as many good experiences as you can handle. It's just that it sounds to me like more of the same thing… trying to cover up or bury what happened rather than figuring out how to make peace with it."

"Make peace with it?"

"Well, I don't mean that you're ever content that it happened. More like… acceptance – take your missing fingers, for example. You never spoke much about it, but I saw the struggle you had afterward. Sure there was physical healing, but that only went so far. Learning to compensate for what was lost went the rest of the way… you made peace with it so to speak, where you eventually stopped feeling anything about your hand. I don't know what the equivalent of that is for this other thing, but I think that's what you need to find."

Misery was silent for several long moments before bending down to kiss him. "You've given me much to think about. Thank you… for everything."

He smiled into the kiss before breaking it. "Alright now, go to bed before you get the big fella stirred up again."

"Fair enough," she said, understanding his intent. They were very much alike when it came to vulnerable emotions. Neither cared to linger there longer than necessary, and once the salient points were made it was time to move on. "Good night, V."

AN: confession time... I nearly abandoned this story. Personally, I didn't get into Inquisition - a tedious, boring game with an uninspired story and companions that for the most part I didn't care for. I couldn't bring myself to finish the game even once, quitting probably around 2/3 of the way through. Anyway, Inquisition soured me on Dragon Age as a whole for a while, to the point I didn't even want to bother continuing to write this. But... after talking to another fanfic author and sharing our mutual disdain for unfinished stories, authors who string their readers along with lengthy delays between updates, and so on, I realized that I'd turned into "that author" myself. Saying I did a bit of soul searching is probably a bit too dramatic for what it really was, but basically I felt I had to decide between two options - pull the plug on this story and post something telling readers I was done, or commit to writing this again on a *regular* basis. As you can (hopefully) guess, I decided to write. It remains to be seen if I have Act III in me (I'm skeptical to be honest, but we're a ways off so we'll see), but at minimum I'm going to get this story done and at a much faster pace than the last several chapters have come out.