"I feel... very strongly for you, and I want to know if... if it's just me, or if you feel – something too." Natalia couldn't help the lurch she felt in her heart, watching Alistair's awkward fumbling to express himself, in a rare moment of vulnerability.

"Yes, you know I do," she said quietly, taking his hand with a smile.

"Then... do you think, maybe I'm asking too much, but – would you be willing to be – exclusive with me?"

Natalia blinked. "Uh... of course," she said, confused by the apparent complete change in direction that the conversation had taken.

"Oh... that's a relief," Alistair said, gripping her hand and grinning back at her. "I know, it's a lot to ask, but... then, you should probably say something to Zevran, to let him know."

"... to Zevran?" Natalia said, now completely lost. "Why does he need to know?"

"Well..." Alistair frowned slightly. "I mean, I'm not his best friend or anything, but it would be – unkind do leave him hanging on, as it were."

The realization of what Alistair was talking about seemed to hit Natalia like a two-handed mace. She yanked her hand out of his grasp, her mouth dropping open. "You think I've been sleeping with Zevran?" she said, her voice becoming shrill.

Across the way, Wynne glanced up from the trinkets she'd been examining with Leliana. Natalia caught her gaze and shook her head slightly. The mage looked dubious, but shrugged and turned away, saying something to the bard.

"Well... you've certainly been talking to him a lot, and the two of you are – rather close," Alistair was saying. "I don't know how you can trust him. He's a hired assassin, who tried to kill you once already, and you've been..."

"I've been what?" Natalia said incredulously, folding her arms and glaring. "Maker's mercy, Alistair, we sleep in the same campsite every night! Don't you think you would have noticed if I was creeping into his tent?"

"I've seen you go off with him on watches, or hunting," he responded, his cheeks reddening. "And then you sit and talk to him at the fire, and when I come over you stop and – laugh."

Natalia grasped at her forehead with one hand, grinding her teeth. She rubbed the leather of her glove over her eyes and face, then planted her fists on her hips.

"I'll admit that I've been flirting with him," she said. "But I think it's impossible to talk to him and not be flirted with. He's tried flirting with you too, which you probably haven't noticed." From the look he gave her, Alistair obviously hadn't. "And you also probably haven't noticed that Leliana has spent more than a few nights in his tent."

"In... with... her?" Alistair said, in a strangled voice.

"Yes – what, you heard them on a night I wasn't with you because I was exhausted from fighting, and you assumed I'd lied to you to sleep with him instead?"

The former Templar suddenly realized that he had effectively trapped himself into a very difficult conversational corner. The flush on his cheeks was spreading to the rest of his face. For once, the sight of him blushing furiously didn't make Natalia think warm thoughts towards him.

"No," she said, sweeping her palm flat in a cutting gesture, though Alistair hadn't been attempting to say anything. "We're getting rooms at the inn; we'll talk about this tonight. For now, we have – criminals to stop, or something, I don't know." With one last glare in his direction, she shook her head, then stalked away to collect Wynne and Leliana.

By the time they were ready to bed down for the night, Natalia was in a much better mood. She'd had plenty of opportunity to take out her frustration on deserving ruffians, while netting the favor of the Denerim city guard and a handful of gold sovereigns as well. After one last trip to the market, to sell items they'd collected from the dead or surrendered criminals and purchase a few last minute supplies, they headed back to the Gnawed Noble. Natalia was determined to take advantage of the brief combination between the availability of fine lodgings, and of their own temporarily abundant funds.

She happily paid out two extra gold coins for a room with a bath of its own, and to have the bath filled with heated water. As they were having their dinner in the taproom, Zevran appeared, strolling in casually as if he'd discovered them completely by chance, and sat next to Leliana. He claimed that he'd conducted some personal business in town, which had been very successful, and to prove it, he bought a bottle of the best wine the inn had to offer. Soon, they'd all drained a few glasses, and were chatting and joking – even Wynne, who had a slight flush across her cheeks.

Alistair had gradually relaxed over the course of the day, but when the assassin appeared he'd stiffened up again, with a glance at Natalia. She hadn't responded in any way, and by the time they were done with the wine, he seemed cheerful and relieved.

Eventually, when the wine was long gone, Zevran stretched, elaborate and languorous as a cat. "Thank you very much for your company, my friends," he said, flashing a smile. "But I believe it is time for me to retire for the night."

"Oh, you're not going all the way back out to the camp, are you?" Leliana said, sounding concerned.

The elf shrugged. "I have not yet made arrangements to stay in town, so it is an option."

"This city can be so dangerous at night," the bard said seriously. "It would not do for you to run afoul of one of the groups of ruffians that roam its back alleys. I would lie awake all night, concerned for your safety, if you were to leave now."

Zevran leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. "Hmm... that is a difficulty," he agreed, with just a slight hint of a smirk. "What, then, are we to do about it?"

Wynne snorted and stood up, using her staff for support, and possibly a little bit to keep her balance. "I will leave you young folk to sort things out for yourselves," she said, not quite able to hide a smile. "Rest well, and I will see you in the morning." The others bid her a good night as she left the table.

"We have two more rooms reserved," Leliana remarked, radiating helpfulness. "Natalia is having a bath prepared in one of them already... maybe you two could share the other?"

"I'd rather walk back to camp," Alistair muttered, then yelped as Natalia gave his shin a sharp kick. It was a good thing he'd taken off his heavy plate armor before sitting down for dinner, or she might have broken her toe.

"Oh, I would hate to be an imposition," Zevran said, giving the Wardens a bright, malicious smile. "It would be so awkward to share a room with someone who finds my presence uncomfortable..."

"I'll just – go and get my things, then," Alistair said, standing up with his cheeks flaring.

Natalia winced, then looked back at the two rogues, who were both wearing their very best innocent expressions. She grimaced at them as Alistair stomped off towards the private rooms, then hurried after him, doing her best to ignore the snickers that erupted behind her.

She caught up to him in the hallway, looking into the room that had been set aside for his use. "My things aren't here," he said, frowning. "I know I left my armor in this room..."

"And I had it moved to my room," Natalia said, opening a door across the hallway and gesturing inside. Sure enough, Alistair's bags and armor were arranged neatly in the small sitting area.

"Uh," Alistair said perceptively.

Walking across the sitting room, the other Warden opened the far door, glanced inside, and nodded. "The bath is ready," she said, looking back out at Alistair, still standing in the hall. "Come in and sit down. I'm going to take my bath, and you can take yours after mine, and then – we will talk." She glowered at him briefly. "About the conversation we had in the marketplace."

"... oh," Alistair responded, suddenly looking contrite. "Look, about that..."

"After bathing," Natalia stated, then slipped into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind her.

As much as she'd been looking forward to the bath, it wasn't quite as enjoyable as she had hoped, even with the delicate scent of violets that steamed out of the water after she added a few drops from a vial purchased at the market. It was hard for her to forget that Alistair was out in the sitting room, waiting for an argument, instead of in the bath with her. Natalia silently rehearsed what she intended to say as she washed off the dirt and grime of their travels. When she climbed out of the water, she pulled on another purchase she'd made earlier – a simple long-sleeved dressing gown – and then arranged a few other items in the room, before opening the bedroom door.

"The water is still warm," she said, tugging a comb through her hair. "I'll be waiting out here for you to finish." Without stopping for a response, she crossed the room, pulled a book on the Tevinter Empire out of her pack, and settled on the couch to read under the room's lamplight. Alistair hesitated a moment, before mutely entering the bedroom and closing the door.

Once the door was shut, Natalia sighed, rubbing at her face, then tried to concentrate on her book. If she had actually been reading, instead of staring blankly at the open pages, she probably would have missed the tiny, furtive noise that came through the door to the hallway. She frowned, put the book on the couch next to her and crept up to the door, silent in her bare feet. After listening for a minute, she rolled her eyes and yanked the door open.

Zevran, who had been leaning against the door, almost fell into the room, while Leliana leapt backwards with a startled squeak. Natalia folded her arms and glared at the rogues.

"Ah, I was just passing by to wish you a good evening," Zevran said, standing up and brushing off his tunic with a shameless grin.

"I trust that you two have worked out your own sleeping arrangements?" Natalia said, as haughtily as she could manage.

"Indeed we have," the elf said, stepping back to stand beside Leliana in the hallway with a slight bow. "And it appears that you have made arrangements of your own, as well."

"There are still some few matters that remain to be settled," Natalia responded grandly, giving the pair a pointed look. It had become a game between the three of them, to carry on casual conversations in the formal tones of courtly speech that each of them had learned from their respective backgrounds.

"I perceive that we have trespassed upon your hospitality too long," Leliana said, sweeping an elegant curtsy in her tunic and leggings. "Therefore we shall withdraw, and I give you my word that we will trouble you no more this evening."

"You give your word for both of us?" Zevran said, lifting an eyebrow.

"I do, with great certainty," Leliana said, leaning towards the elf with pursed lips.

"And precisely how do you propose to ensure that I will do my part to keep the promise that you have so readily given?" he said, his mouth curling in a smirk.

The bard leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Zevran blinked once, then nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, well, that should doubtless be sufficient," he said, already moving towards the door across the hallway.

Natalia couldn't quite hide a giggle as Leliana winked and blew her a kiss, before vanishing quickly into their room and closing the door. Still smiling, she closed the door to her rooms, then tried to settle herself on the couch in a dignified pose.

A few minutes later, Alistair came out of the bedroom, rubbing his head with the drying cloth. Natalia was pleased to see that he'd put on the clean clothes she'd bought for him and laid out on the bed. The stay in Denerim had been their first opportunity to pick up a change of clothes, and she wasn't about to let the chance pass by.

He seated himself on the chair opposite the small couch, and carefully draped the towel over a drying rack by the fire, taking some time to make sure that it wasn't folded or creased. Natalia watched him silently, doing her best to steady herself.

Finally he looked up and took a quick breath. "Before you say anything, I want to say that I'm sorry," he said, holding up a hand. "I jumped to the wrong conclusions, and then I worried about them too long without really thinking. I should have trusted you, and... I'm sorry."

Natalia blinked, feeling a bit as though she'd had a rug yanked out from under her feet. It took her a minute to think of what to say in response.

"Thank you for your apology," she said. Alistair looked up with a smile, which faded as she continued. "But words are easy to come by, and this is... too important to trust to easy words."

Now he was frowning. "Then... I'm not sure what else you would want from me," he said, leaning back. "Blood? A pile of darkspawn heads? All my wealth and wordly possessions?"

"You trust me when we fight," she said, looking at him steadily. "You trust me to guard your back, to be there for you. You trust me to lead you and make decisions that affect your life. But you don't trust me with... your heart." Her voice almost closed on those last two words, but she forced them out.

Alistair looked vaguely shocked. "I don't... what?"

Natalia had to close her eyes for a minute, to fight back the urge to make a joke, change the subject, anything to derail the direction of the conversation she had initiated. There was no guarantee that it would end up the way she desperately wanted it to. But she'd already gone this far... she took a careful breath and opened her eyes.

"You said it may be too soon... and, well, it may still be, for this. I need – I want you to trust how much I love you. I want you to understand that there is nobody else in my heart, that you are the one person I believe in, that I need, more than anybody else in the world." Seeing his look of confusion, she let out a frustrated grunt, and waved her hands in the air. "I'm not explaining this well. This is, for me, this is much more than – a roll in the blankets, a passing affair."

"It is for me, too," he protested, but she cut him off with a gesture.

"If you had believed that, would you have asked me what you did in the market?"

Blood rushed to his cheeks, and he looked genuinely angry. "It was a mistake, it was a stupid thing to say! I'm good at that, you know! Are you going to keep punishing me for this, after I've apologized – and you accepted it?"

"No, this isn't about punishment," Natalia said, wincing. "It's about me, showing you that you can trust me – and you, showing me that you do."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Alistair said heatedly. "Letting you save my life a few dozen times isn't good enough?"

"For your body, your life, yes. Not your heart." She stood up and walked forward, holding out her hands.

"I don't... I don't understand," he said, taking her hands and standing up with a wary look in his eyes.

"Then let me show you," she said, her voice low.

Natalia led him back into the bedroom. He closed the door behind them, then looked at her, uncertainty plain on his face. She felt her legs trembling under the dressing down as she stared at him, wondering if she was about to go too far, and lose him in truth.

"Do you trust me?" she said, letting go of his hand.

"I... yes, of course." Alistair swallowed, glancing around. "Well, I don't see a knife, so it doesn't seem like -"

She put her hands on his cheeks and turned his head to face her. "Will you do what I say?"

"Okay, I just have to be clear on one thing," he said, pulling away. Natalia felt her heart lurch as he held up his hands. "This isn't some kind of blood magic ritual thing, is it? You're not going to turn into some demon from the Fade and try to eat my face?"

At that, she couldn't help laughing. "No, I promise – no blood, no magic, and I'm not a demon."

"All right." Alistair lowered his hands and stepped forward again. "No blood, no magic, no demons, check. Then yes, I will do what you say."

Taking a steadying breath, she nodded, the smile dropping away. "Take off your shirt."

Alistair raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest. He stripped his shirt off and tossed it over the chair in the corner, then looked back at her expectantly. The lamplight highlighted muscles hardened from years of training and fighting, scars flashing faint white trails like falling stars. When she'd seen his bare chest before, it had been in darkness, or in daylight with others around, bathing or changing armor. She had to struggle with the temptation to reach out and touch him, trace the patterns on his skin. Instead she straightened her shoulders and gestured to the bed. "Lie down – on your stomach." He paused, giving her a questioning look, but then shrugged slightly and went to the bed, settling himself on his chest as she'd directed.

Moving quickly, Natalia climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist, then picked up the coil of rope she'd left on the bedside table. Alistair grunted in surprise, but didn't struggle as she pulled his arms up straight, then bent his elbows, crossing his wrists behind his head. When he felt the rope sliding around his arms, he twitched slightly. "Nat, uh... are you..."

"Do you trust me?" she said, pausing her work and putting one hand on his bare shoulder.

He flinched again, then took a deep breath. "Yes, I trust you," he said, the muscles of his back loosening slightly under her hand.

After a few careful minutes, Natalia tugged gently at the knot, satisfied with the job. "Roll over, onto your back," she instructed, shifting to kneel beside him on the bed. As he wriggled himself around, she picked up a small glass bottle and broke its wax seal. A scent of honeysuckle and spices drifted through the room. She watched him flex his arms experimentally, testing the security of the knot. When he realized that he could easily bring his arms forward over his head and across his chest, some of his tension evaporated, and he leaned back with a small smile.

"Keep your hands behind your head," she said. Alistair nodded, then inhaled sharply as she moved back over him, settling her weight on his upper thighs, just below his hips.

Smoothing a few drops of the scented oil onto her fingertips, Natalia set the bottle aside, then indulged her earlier desire to stroke his chest. She traced gently along the ridges and puckers of his scars, following them up to his neck and shoulders, then down to his tense belly, which quivered under her touch. The oil was quickly gone, evaporated in the heat of his body, but the smell lingered to mix with his sweat, filling her head with a musky, sweet aroma.

Trailing her hands down across his stomach, she paused at the hem of his trousers and looked up. He'd turned his head to one side and closed his eyes, lips slightly parted, his breathing shallow but steady. The sight of his vulnerability seemed to drive a spike of warmth up between Natalia's legs. Slowly, she untied the lacings of his trousers, loosening them and pulling them apart, revealing the pink tip of his erection. She added another drop to the end of her finger, then let it slide across the soft head. At her touch, he gasped, his back arching, unable to raise his hips from her weight on his thighs.

Pushing aside the flaps of his trousers, Natalia ran both hands along his stiffened shaft, curious about the organ that she had felt so intimately but rarely seen. Delicately, she traced the ridges and veins, then lowered one hand to cup around his balls, exploring their texture as she continued to stroke his length.

By this time, Alistair was nearly whimpering, the muscles of his neck tense as he clenched his jaw. Still he kept his arms crossed behind his head, though they shook slightly with tension. With a small sigh, Natalia lifted her weight from his legs and slid off the bed. When he opened his eyes and gave her a pleading look, she shook her head slightly. "Hold still and wait," she said, touching one finger to his lips. The corners of his eyes creased in a nearly agonized expression, but he nodded, then took a deep breath and lay back again.

Humming quietly to herself, Natalia gathered up their dirty traveling clothes into a sack, then slipped out into the sitting room. She hung the sack on the hook provided outside the door of her chambers, along with a few silvers to ensure that the clothes would be washed during the night. Moving quickly, she locked the door, blew out the lamps in the sitting room, and banked the fire.

When she came back into the bedroom, she was pleased to see that Alistair had obeyed the order to keep still. He watched her hungrily as she moved around the room, blowing out all the lamps except the one sitting beside the bed, which she shuttered to a soft, golden glow. Finally she returned to the bed and pulled his trousers off completely, with what help he was able to provide without use of his hands.

His wide eyes glittered in the lamplight as she knelt on his thighs again, his bare legs hot between hers. Slowly, as gracefully as she could manage, Natalia slid the dressing gown over her head and off, onto the floor. Alistair groaned quietly as her body was exposed, then shivered when she leaned forward, running her hands up his body from hips to chin. She bent down to kiss him, sucking in a quick breath as her nipples brushed against his chest, the sensation bright and sharp as a cascade of sparks.

Reaching between her legs, she found his erect cock. As she settled back onto her haunches, she slowly guided it into her body. When he was fully inside her, she stopped, shuddering, gripping his shoulders to try and keep some measure of control. He broke away from her kiss and arched his head back, eyes squeezed shut and gasping.

"Not... yet," she whispered, rising up onto her knees and letting him slide out again. With an incoherent grunt, he raised his hips, trying to thrust back up into her, but instead his length pressed along the middle of her cleft. She lifted herself still further, then shifted down and let her weight settle across his body, his twitching erection caught under her lower belly.

"Hmm... not yet," Natalia repeated, nuzzling up to bite gently under his chin. Moving slightly to one side, she supported herself on one elbow, the other hand gliding along his body in a long, smooth caress. At some point, she'd learned that while they were less sensitive than her own, his nipples were quite tender, and so she spent some time lingering on the one that was exposed, delicately teasing it. She watched Alistair's face with half-lidded eyes, savoring his expressions and the quiet, desperate noises he made.

She'd already come close to her own climax, and she was still exquisitely sensitive. It was difficult to overcome the urge to slide back down and take him inside again. Her hips moved against his unconsciously, and as they did she felt the tip of his shaft pressing against the nub of pleasure between her legs. He growled low in his throat, and she smiled.

Moving back onto his chest, she pushed herself up with her arms on either side of his neck, rocking her hips on his waist. Natalia closed her eyes, biting her lip as she felt the pressure build in her groin, then gasped in surprise, her eyes popping open. With her breasts swaying over his face, Alistair had lifted his head up and captured a nipple in his lips, tugging delicately with teeth and tongue. In seconds, her vision had gone grey and grainy around the edges, waves of warmth spreading up through her entire body. Her arms gave out and she collapsed onto his chest, panting.

"Mmph!"

"Oh, sorry!" she said, scooting down a bit and removing her breasts from Alistair's face.

"Not that it wouldn't be a wonderful way to die," he said, gasping slightly as he caught his breath, "but I'm guessing that's not your plan for ending the evening."

"Definitely not," Natalia agreed, then slid farther back to straddle his hips again with a wicked smile. "This is more what I had in mind..."

For a second time, she guided his length up into her body, shivering as the aftershocks of her climax mixed with the new sensation of penetration. When he was fully inside her, his breath ragged and harsh, she pushed herself to sit upright, tucking her feet under her folded legs so that most of her weight was on Alistair's thighs.

Eyes narrowed, she watched him as she slowly rocked her hips. This new angle of their coupling felt very different, and she discovered that she needed to take some care not to lose her balance, as well as drawing the experience out as long as she could manage. The muscles along his chest and stomach flexed as he tried to thrust up into her, but her position held them securely connected. His breath hissed out between his teeth as she leaned forward and slid her hands from his hips up to his chest, still slick enough to glide smoothly with the remnants of the oil she'd used earlier. When her fingertips brushed over his nipples, then pinched at them lightly, he arched his head back and moaned. "Maker, Andraste, please," he breathed, squirming under her hands.

"Hmm... please, what?" Truly, Natalia hadn't ever imagined she could be so – she didn't even know what this was, cruel? Wanton? Something the Chantry would never approve of, taking so much pleasure from what the priests would no doubt call a perversion of the sacred act of conception. Knowing that Alistair had lived in the Chantry for years, and likely knew just how irreverent this all was, gave it an extra thrill that made her spine tingle. She thought vaguely that she should probably be ashamed of her actions. Wicked, seductress, whore – the words slipped through her mind, finding no purchase in the warm flush of pleasure, and drifted away. A noblewoman should never act this way, or be doing these things. But Natalia wasn't a noblewoman any longer; she was a Grey Warden, and what she did in the privacy of a bed chamber with her lover was no business of the Landsmeet or the Chantry.

"Please, Natalia, I can't... it's not enough, I need more, please!" His whole body was tense and straining, streaked with sweat. She had no doubt he knew as well as she did that if he chose, he could easily remove the rope around his wrists, roll her over in the bed, and take the release he obviously wanted so desperately. Instead he continued to obey her, his willingness to submit to her commands a demonstration of trust; also that, as much as he might protest, he was enjoying this as much as she was.

Without answering his plea, Natalia shifted herself upright again, smiling serenely. She trailed one hand down across his belly, brushing her fingers through their combined curls, then rested a fingertip on the sensitive nub between her legs, pressing down and rubbing it gently. Almost immediately, her body quivered, breath coming in ragged gasps as the flood of sensation built to a nearly painful intensity before it crested. Her back arched and she cried out, feeling as if she were drowning.

"Maker's breath..." She opened her eyes and looked down to see Alistair staring at her. She was surprised to see a faint slick of tears shining in the golden lamplight. "I never, this is... you are so beautiful," he whispered.

At his words, she felt her heart contract, squeezing the breath out of her body. Leaning forward and taking her weight on her hands again, she pulled her feet out from under her legs, then wrapped them around his thighs instead, raising her hips off his slightly. Pressing her chest onto his, she kissed him briefly. "Yes," she said into his ear.

He didn't have to ask what she meant. Closing his eyes, he began thrusting fiercely upwards into her. It was almost all Natalia could do to hold herself steady above him. "Oh, Maker, yes," she hissed, then crushed her lips to his throat, stifling a wail as his climax triggered another of her own. She was faintly aware of him groaning loudly in the bright intensity of the moment. Then she could feel the tension draining out of his body, leaving him limp and panting.

Reaching up, she pulled at a particular length of the rope around his arms, and the knot instantly slipped loose. With his arms released, Alistair wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his side, curling his legs up between hers. Natalia closed her eyes and stroked his back, listening to the sound of his breath gradually easing.

"I never, never dreamed... that was... wow," he said, nuzzling into her hair.

"Hmm, then you should be glad that I've spent so much time talking to Zevran," she said.

She felt his body tense briefly. Then he took a deep breath, as he made an effort to relax. "You said you didn't..."

"He showed me how to tie that knot," she said, looking up at him with a smirk. "He demonstrated on Leliana. And then they suddenly decided they were tired, and ran off to his tent."

Alistair chuckled, and gave her a brief squeeze. "Maybe I should thank him."

Natalia giggled. "In the morning, just walk up to him and say 'Thank you!' and don't tell him why. But you know, he will tease you if you do that."

"For once, I don't think I'll mind his comments," Alistair said, his voice low and smooth with contentment. "I'll think of tonight, and just smile at him."

They lay tangled together, both of them tired but not quite ready to go to sleep. Then Alistair kissed Natalia's forehead. "So... now, do you believe that I trust you with... my heart?" he asked, his voice slightly hesitant.

"Absolutely," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "As I trust you with mine... always."

"Always," he agreed, then reached over and closed the shutter on the lamp, letting the room slide into darkness.

Some time after the Wardens were finally asleep, a loud groan and an excited shout came simultaneously from the door across the hallway.

"Well, that was a mess," said a male voice with an Antivan accent and a rueful tone. "Despite your undeniable skills as a teacher, I fear that I may simply not be a clever enough student."

"Don't be silly." The reply, a woman who spoke with an Orlais accent, was warm and affectionate. "You almost had it that time. It is not an easy skill to learn, and I know for a fact that you are dexterous enough."

"It keeps sliding." The man's voice sounded distinctly frustrated. "I can't determine if the problem is one of angle, or of friction."

"You had the angle almost exactly right that time, but I think you just used a little too much pressure when it was time for the flex, and that made you lose control. Come now, you are an assassin, not a warrior. Just remember that a subtle thrust with a slender dagger can equal the effect of a mighty blow with a massive sword."

"Very well, I will attempt it once more." Both voices dropped to low mutters, and a few minutes of quiet concentration went past. Then the room erupted with triumphant yells.

"You see, I told you that you could do it!" the woman's voice exclaimed happily.

"Yes, I did finally manage it – once. Out of seven attempts." Despite the words, the man's voice sounded pleased.

"That will increase with experience. Practice this technique for half an hour every day, and in less than a month, it will be as natural to you as breathing."

"Half an hour every day?" he said, in a tone of disbelief.

"It is not so much time as all that, in truth," the woman replied, sounding amused. "In a month, you may be assured that you will never again lose at cards – I promise you, the Swallow's Wing is nearly undetectable, and there are few outside Orlais who know the trick."

"Tomorrow, you must show me this trick in action in the taproom." There was the sound of some shuffling in the room. "For tonight, I believe that I have practiced enough. And now, it is time for me to demonstrate a particular skill I know very well, which you have expressed an interest in before."

"Then by all means, I await your instruction," said the woman, her voice low and pleased. With that, no more was heard from their room that night.