A/N:This is my first DAO fic, and I hope to do one of my favorite games justice. This collection of one shots will focus on the different loves and lives of the six possible Wardens as if Duncan had been able to recruit them all, with each chapter altering perspective. Since I couldn't fit in the summary, the different pairings I will be including are fCousland/Alistair, fAmell/Cullen, mTabris/Zevran, mMahariel/Morrigan, fBrosca/Leliana, fAeducan/Gorim (if you don't like same sex, you've come to the wrong place). First up is Dulcia Cousland!

Disclaimer:The marvelous characters (for the most part) belong to Bioware

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One. Dulcia Cousland: The Lady of Highever

There are more books than anyone will ever read in the Cousland library. Tall, fat ones filled with maps and old lore telling of heroes who ride winged beasts and slay demons corrupted by magic. Leather bound histories of noble families, her own included. Paperbacks with ripped covers that once were the diaries of her ancestors. Manuals on behaving in the manner of a true lady, which will one day surely find their way into her hands with help from her sister-in-law, who knows better than anyone how much of a true lady she is not.

Dulcia Cousland stares at the titles written in cursive on the spines, reading them one by one until her eyes blur and nothing is distinguishable. It is better not to see anything, to feel nothing, she thinks. Better to become numb than indulge in her temper and embarrass herself further. Even if she yells and screams and demands attention, all she will hear is another flat 'No, you are a lady and a Cousland, your place is here within these walls and nowhere else'. From her father, her mother, Ser Gilmore, Fergus, Oriana, even Duncan, who had seemed so impressed by her until her father had forbidden his interest. She can't help but wonder why anyone bothered to train her as a warrior if this is the life she is meant for. Perhaps her father's work in honing her skills was just a game to him, a lark to humor his spirited daughter.

Rolf emits a long, sonorous whine at her feet, then chews on the rawhide bone Dulcia has stolen from the larder. The two of them are supposed to be in Fergus' room, saying their grand goodbye to the toast of Highever and promising to be good while he heads off like a hero to Ostagar to fight the onslaught of darkspawn that the whispers of servants insist is a Blight. Dulcia wishes she was a good enough person to be happy for her brother, but she isn't, or at least not today. Just the sight of Fergus with Oriana is enough to make her ill. If everyone had their way, she would be just like her pretty little sister-in-law, always the dutiful wife, always prudent and pure and decorative.

The idea of women fighting is unthinkable in Antiva, Oriana always says, as if the customs of Antiva have any weight in Dulcia's life. They're only dangerous in kindness and poison, as you would be, too, if you had any grasp on the concept of subtlety.

"I want to break something," Dulcia tells Rolf, running her foot along his matted fur. "I don't want to be a good daughter anymore."

Rolf barks and turns over onto his back, exposing his belly for her to run her fingers across. She obliges him, and he licks her hand in pleasure, loving her just enough to make her forget her pain.

"You two suit each other well, my lady," a voice says from the threshold of the room. Dulcia does not turn around. She knows this voice. It is a voice that approaches her reverently, like one would approach an expensive vase too lovely to touch. She has known him as a friend of the family ever since she was a child, and never has he changed in regards to her, even after all this time.

"We are very much alike, my hound and I" she says, continuing to scratch Rolf's belly. "We are lovable and charming, and we must content ourselves to eat everyone else's scraps."

Dairren takes a seat beside her, resting his elbow on the table so it is almost touching hers. She feels the heat coming from him, warm and comforting like a fire in winter. "I did not expect to find you here," he says. "I thought your family was with Fergus."

"They are." She at last turns to look at him. There are small beads of sweat spotting his forehead; he is still nervous around her. Dulcia's lips turn up in a smile. She likes this feeling of being feared by a man, of being recognized for the dangerous force she is

Dairren returns her gaze for a moment, then looks away. "I see you have chosen your books over your family," he says. "I didn't you know you were that much of a reader."

"Only if it's the right book."

" Now you've piqued my interest. What kind of book do you like?"

"The Art of Passionate Love," she says, keeping her voice serious though she had only caught a glimpse of it once from a servant before it was confiscated by Oriana.

Dairren laughs in surprise. "Didn't the Chantry ban that? I can't believe you managed to get a peek at it. Was it any good?"

"Spectacular." Dulcia watches as more sweat accumulates on his pale skin. If she plays with him any more, she imagines that his cheeks will start burning. She wonders for a moment if she should keep playing. She has never done this before; this is straying into unknown territory, dancing on thin ice that could break under her feet and drown her. What would her mother say? What would Oriana? Does any of it even matter anymore?

"Dairren," she asks suddenly, pressing his elbow against his. "What do you think of me?"

"What do I... think of you? I don't know, my lady. We've only had a casual acquaintance. You're rather a mystery to me."

"Am I a mystery you would like to solve?"

Dairren coughs into his hand, covering his trembling mouth. "My lady?" he asks. She can smell the want coming from him, thick and heady like incense. He will take her if she asks him. Should she ask him? She can't think of a reason not to. She is not saving anything for anyone, and it is not such a precious gift to give away if she knows she will never meet anyone worthy of it, just endless seas of noble men who will blunt her sword and hide her in the shadows.

"Would you like to get to know me, Dairren?" she asks. Her hands stop moving and Rolf whines at the absence of her touch. Dairren does not notice. He stares at her, searching her face for a sign she is joking or teasing him. But she isn't.

"If you mean what I think you mean..."

"Then?" She leans forward. She has heard enough of 'no' for today. She wants to see his mouth move to form the beautiful syllable she is longing to hear. Yes, yes, yes.

"I suppose you have some place in mind?"

"I just might."

She takes his hand and pulls him up so he is standing beside her. He looks at her, his cheeks pink and delicate, and she looks back at him, a feeling of recklessness coursing through her body.

I wanted to break something, she thinks as she pulls him forward, to her bedroom. I guess my heart is a good place to start.