This is the epilogue, picking up some years after the last chapter. Thanks for reading!

The Pearl never changes. The world outside could shake to its foundations, could go to war, could fall to blight, but there would always be The Pearl and its services.

Even when Sanga finally let go of the place, the new Madam made few alterations. The upscale ambiance maintained, with identically hefty prices. The finest courtesans in the world were brought to work in its luxurious bedrooms. And no consideration would be given to politics or nationality - once you were naked, after all, it didn't matter if you were an Arl or a nug-herder, so long as you could pay the fee.

Only one addition was made, unknown to even frequent visitors. A room off-limits to customers, where a lady in trouble might sleep without encroachment by drunken boyfriends or murderous husbands. These girls would just appear there, quite suddenly, as though snatched from their own beds by unknown magics. They were quiet as mice, and when they left the Pearl no one would ever see them again, not in Denerim or anywhere a possessive spouse would think to look. Should such types show up to threaten violence in the brothel, the Madam herself would handle it with her very long, very sharp knives, and all the ladies would gather to watch the rare and impressive display.

Most of the time, however, the Madam stayed out of sight. She kept an office for herself at the back guarded by beautiful, muscular girls. She would emerge for favored customers, or to appraise new workers, and to insist she did not run an institution of Charity - no discounts and no running tabs. At times she would have visitors, strange foreigners who had traveled great distances and called her by any of a dozen names and titles. These travelers would disappear into her office for hours, and afterwards would have the run of the establishment. In a few memorable cases such characters would work a room at the Pearl for a time, as the double-jointed blonde elf had, and would be quite popular with the ladies and the customers alike.

A young redhead appeared late one night and asked to see the Madam. She did not seem to be a customer nor a courtesan; the oversized sword strapped to her back suggested she might be in some sort of trouble, or else seeking it.

The Madam seemed to have been expecting her. She appeared suddenly in the lobby looking as unchangingly beautiful as ever, in a ruby gown with a plunging neckline revealing vast amounts of tawny skin. Her hair hung in dark rivers all down her shoulders, with a faint silver outline bringing only a suggestion of her true age.

The young warrior raised her eyebrows at the revealing costume.

"Show her in," the Madam waved, the golden jewelry at her wrists jingling. Several attendants came around to escort the girl through as the proprietress disappeared into her office.

The redhead's full armor rattled as she made her way into the Madam's room, ignoring the attendants that followed closely at her heels. She did a quick appraisal of the room and its exits. Not a boudoir, as one might have expected, but an office not unlike a Captain's quarters, with wood paneling and a fine rosewood desk. No windows. No seats besides the one the Madam occupied behind her desk.

The Madam was giving her an equally appraising look, and Doris straightened under her gaze.

"You took a little tracking down, Captain." Her voice had grown dark and smokey.

"It's Madam these days." Isabela gestured, and her bodyguards closed the door behind them.

"So you've given up piracy?" she asked curiously.

"Not exactly." Isabela took a sip of wine. "I run several ships still. I just do it from the shore most of the time. Climbing around was starting to get a bit tiresome."

"Mother thought you'd never leave the sea."

"Never say never, darling. It's unimaginative."

Dor strode in front of Isabela's desk, not breaking eye contact.

Isabela smirked, and eyed the greatsword strapped to her back. Fenris's sword.

"Can you swing that thing?"

Dor cocked her head slightly, but made no move to draw her weapon. "Well enough."

Plainly she felt no need to prove herself. Madam Isabela liked that.

"You don't look surprised to see me." Doris sounded perhaps a little disappointed by this.

"I had some warning." Isabela opened a drawer of her desk and produced a folded piece of paper, and smoothed it flat in front of her.

Dor scanned it for only a moment. The handwriting was immediately familiar. "Mother. I should have known." Then she huffed with annoyance. "If she had just told me where you were, it might have saved me some time. I've been all through the Free Marches and Ferelden too."

"And ruin Baby's First Adventure? I think not." Isabela refolded the letter and put it away. "She was a little unclear on whether you were coming to run me through or to ask for a job."

"Neither. I came about this." The redhead wandered to the single bookshelf and thoughtfully extracted a volume, green with gold lettering on the cover. Doris ran her fingers over the title familiarly. "But I see you already have a copy."

Isabela leaned back in her chair. "Varric sent it. From the first printing."

Doris set the volume down on the desk in front of her. "Did you read it?"

"I don't have to. I was there when he wrote it." Madam Isabela picked up the book and leafed through it idly. "I imagine there's a lot of unfashionable things about the dangers of magic. I hear these days people don't believe in demon possessions. They think mages are harmless. They don't even do the Harrowing anymore."

"They're saying the Chantry made it all up, to keep everyone in line. The demons, that is."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "Just like the Blight, and dragons, and everything else that nobody's seen recently. Suddenly they're all old wives tales. Before long a mage will wipe out an entire town again, and then they'll believe it sure enough. Me, I keep magic out of this place. They can call me a bigot if they like. I've seen enough abominations for several lifetimes, I'd rather not see any more."

Dor nodded to that. She'd heard the stories from her mother. "You'll outlive them all, I expect."

"I'll have to really read the thing someday." Isabela set the book down carefully. "This is your doing, I suppose?"

"More or less."

"How long did it take you to figure out what it was?"

"I recognized his handwriting right away. His commentary in the margins of the Common History of the Tevinter Imperium was pretty entertaining. It took a while to learn enough Tevene to make out what the rest of it said. Was it your idea?"

"To write his story? No. Fenris thought of it himself, when we realized we weren't going to be able to cure him. Appending it to the back of a Tevinter history book amused him. So you had it translated?"

"I did it myself." Dor shrugged modestly. "And Mother helped a little. Like I said, it took awhile."

"Huh. I thought the dwarf had managed it. How did you…?"

"The old Chantry had some books in the secret library with Tevinter translations; a former priestess was selling them in the street. Still, it was pretty tough. His spelling was atrocious."

She snorted. "He taught himself to write Tevene, for the most part. I figured he wrote it in his native tongue so I couldn't read over his shoulder."

"And I thought it was so I wouldn't be able to read it until I was older. There were some.. em.. explicit details."

"Ooh. Maybe I should read it sooner rather than later."

"He had plenty to say about you."

The Madam grinned fondly. "That might explain the extra tourists I've been getting lately."

"He said, of all the wonders of the world that he ever saw, you were his favorite."

Her grin faded. Isabela bit her lip, and rested her hand on the book. "That sounds like something he might say."

Dor hesitated a moment before asking the question she had come to ask."Do you suppose he would be angry? That we published it?"

"Absolutely livid," Isabela said, and laughed. "But you did the right thing. People should know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The whole story." The madam's golden eyes went distant, and glimmered slightly. "About Tevinter. And about what really happened in Kirkwall… Anders and Hawke, and Meredith, and the Arishok… And about him. People should know."

It was strange, Doris thought, seeing the Captain again. She was not so fearsome as she remembered, from when the Rivaini pirate had stood in her kitchen and told a frightened little girl to take care of Fenris's legacy. Not so heartless as she had seemed then, 'd had half a mind, in the long walk to Denerim, to challenge the Captain to a duel. Now she couldn't really remember why.

As though reading her mind, Madam Isabela spoke up. "What will you do now?"

"… I hadn't thought that far. Look for a place to swing my sword, I suppose. There must be a need for warriors in the Capitol."

"Any interest in captaining a ship? I know a splendid crew."

"What in the world would I do with a pirate ship?"

"Anything you want, dear."

Dor stared at her a moment, dumbstruck at the very idea. An utterly, perfectly mad idea. Then she smiled slowly and said: "Mother would have a fit."