Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All characters and settings belong to BioWare.

The soft skittering noises made the witch feel at home. Even though the air in the Deep Roads had grown stale and cloistering, and there were no plants to speak of for the non-existent wind to whisper through, the occasional sound of some movement, some life…it was…comforting. Did that word even have meaning for her?

Morrigan shook her head and stared at the fire as it choked and guttered in the lack of oxygen. Whatever comfort may have been, to her and the others, it had abandoned them all. The buffoon slept like a child terrified of the dark, with a thumb unconsciously placed near his lips and a sword clenched in his hands…a somewhat laughable picture, yet also somehow tragic. The elven assassin, when awake, would jerk at the slightest noise, his hand flying to his daggers. The Circle mage, for all her vaunted age and calming presence, could not rest without her luminous crystal next to her eyes, so that the darkness would not swallow her whole. The Orlesian minstrel was the worst off of the lot, with wide, haunted eyes, moaning and whimpering as she slept fitfully, sheened in the sweat of night terrors and looking more haggard with each passing day.

Morrigan sniffed. Only the dwarf, who had foisted on them not only his belligerent presence, but also the stench of whiskey and whoring, slept peacefully…after too many sips from his flask. Even the warden, Risa, with her blithe insouciance and horrible penchant for practical jokes, had lost much of her mirth, her eyes darkening as they pushed deeper and deeper into the places where no life dwelt.

And in thinking of the warden, Morrigan idly caressed the edges of the mirror she had been given before this quest took itself beneath the already subterranean city. The metal felt cool and luxurious against her fingers, but she pulled her hand away as she felt a spark…not from the mirror itself, but from the thought of its giver.

What sort of insanity possessed her to make this gesture? Morrigan wondered, attempting to find the ulterior motive…knowing that none existed. Subtlety did not exist in Risa Mahariel's ever so cluttered mind. She had stated her intentions, and boldly. She wanted the witch…and Morrigan, though she would not admit it, desired Risa's wanting.

The thrill of power she felt as Risa would stare at her with those sky blue eyes…the sole reminder of the world above in this dismal hellscape. Muscles spasmed deep in her body as Morrigan indulged her curiosity, thinking of Risa's figure and form, the familiar curves and swells she attributed to herself. The offer to let the witch take as she liked, and damn the consequences. Risa had likened them to feral creatures…united in that similarity; that they were children of nature, and as such, should indulge in the more…primal aspects.

The witch shuddered as a chill rippled through her, as she recognized the impulse, finding herself too intrigued, too curious to deny it. The warden had drawn the watch lot with her, and disappeared to the edges of the camp site, citing the need to be alone. Morrigan had smiled, thinking it rather more likely that Risa simply desired to be separate from the bard's frantic whimpers and the dwarven oaf's stentorian snoring. The obnoxious sounds could drive the sanest mind right out of its sanity.

Morrigan rose and stretched, a canny grin perched on her lips as she remembered Risa's likening of her to one of the jungle cats of Rivain. A beautiful predator, svelte and lethal, cunning, with a coat blacker than midnight's most hidden sins. A shiver rippled across her spine as she thought of how Risa had placed those words like a caress against her skin. And it had been so long…Morrigan clamped down on her thoughts.

'Tis not as though I am some silly schoolgirl enamored of their elder's whispered secrets. I have known the act of fornication and found it…suitable. But I do not wish it with one such as that infuriating elf…I am simply curious as to her whereabouts. 'Twould not do for her to stray too far, not with deep stalkers skittering about.

Satisfied that she had convinced herself, Morrigan strode deeper into the tunnels, finding the companion she sought at a widening into a small cavern. Water dripped from the overhanging stalactites, giving yet another, oh so needed and necessary, reminder of life.

"I miss the moon." Risa whispered, not even flinching, though Morrigan's approach had been as silent as a Rivaini jungle cat.

"'Twould seem we are all missing something." Morrigan sputtered, exasperated as the roar of Oghren's snoring reached them even here.

"Even you?" Risa asked, infuriating the witch who knew, knew, that a slight grin was quirking those full, crimson lips. "The ever unflappable witch of the wilds? Longing for home?" she made a rude, dismissive noise with tongue and teeth. "I do not see it."

"Not seven days ago you seemed convinced of the existence of my feelings." Morrigan replied, piqued that the warden's words had…stung? "Has this dreadful tomb stifled even your incorrigible good humor?"

"Trust me well, witch, I am not in good humor, for reasons you need not attempt to decipher." the words were spoken low, almost a growl, almost frightening, and Morrigan felt warmth stir deep in her belly, a gnawing, an ache, a question.

"Perhaps then I should take your role, you pest, and begin quizzing you on the finer aspects and intricacies of your existence." Morrigan sneered, angry at Risa's words, angry that they made her want to decipher this inscrutable black mood. "'Tis fair play after all, after the nights you haunted my fire like some dancing ghost after I had explicitly stated my wish for solitude."

"If you so wish to be alone with your fire, go back to the others." Risa replied, her voice coming from another point, further away from the earth. "I certainly have no need of you here, to torment and to tease and drive me nearly fucking mad."

Morrigan felt the spit-crackle of Risa's energy near her skin, causing the hair on her arms and the back of her neck to rise. A new energy dwelt here, the same playful arrogance, lilting flippancy, but tonight a current of something deeper, something more slithered beneath it, teasing and tempting the witch's senses.

"I thought you preferred my…prickled…state, as you so ineloquently put it." Morrigan quipped, clenching her hands into fists, for they trembled at the force of Risa's nearness.

"Don't tease me, witch." Risa warned, and her tone shuddered across Morrigan's skin. "Not upon a night for darker dreaming."

The words tantalized the witch, bringing with them a whiff of the arcane, the hint of an undiscovered secret, and she needed to be satiated, filled…to find this new awareness that tempted her.

"No?" she asked, pretending the innocence she had before, with the men who drooled over her beauty and let her possess and take from them as she needed, be it knowledge she sought, or physical release. "And what is this night for darker dreaming? Be it some elven superstition? Some childish monstrosity brought to bear in this land of waste and eternal night?"

Risa muttered something beneath her breath; Morrigan could not make it out, but it sounded like a Dalish slur. The witch's ire rose. She had drunk her fill of insults, no matter the language in which they were uttered. Alistair's bumbling common tongue, Zevran's choppy and harsh Antivan, the bard's lilting Orlesian and certainly not the ancient language of the elves.

Irked, and not above retribution, Morrigan cast a spark of lightning in the warden's direction, hearing a harsh, shuddering intake of breath.

"Will you be so careful of your secrets now?" she asked, a self-indulgent purr in her voice. "Or will you taunt me further…"

"Taunt?" strong, slim hands wrapped around Morrigan's arms and thrust her against the slippery stone of the tunnel wall.

Risa's body pressed close and Morrigan could hear the thundering in the elf's heart, like a drum pounding the rhythm of an ancient dance. Her body tensed as Risa's fingers tightened on her skin, harsh enough to bruise. The elf leaned in close, her hot breath against Morrigan's neck, sending shivers down the witch's spine.

"You taunt me every day." the words tore from Risa's throat on a rasp. Her lips traced the straining muscles of Morrigan's neck and her elven eyes glowed even in the complete black of the Deep Roads. Morrigan bit her tongue, restraining the impertinent noise that wished to come forth, to encourage, to tempt, to tantalize.

Risa's left hand moved from Morrigan's arm to her thigh, her fingernails causing pleasure to ripple through the mage's skin as the hand moved upward, forcing her to shudder. She knew she could use her magic to break free from the elf's hold, that she could demand her to stop with voice and force. But she remained unmoving, captivated by the wild glint in Risa's eyes, overwhelmed by her need to know what might transpire next, if allowed to happen.

"Creators, you smell like heaven." Risa's tone lightened with a plaintive longing…but an animal's instincts. "I have to taste you."

Risa did not ask, did not beg, instead her mouth opened and her teeth clamped on the joint of Morrigan's shoulder and neck, eliciting a muted cry from the witch, who stood immobilized as the elf's tongue danced in patterns across her skin while Risa's teeth held her hostage. Hot, molten lava poured from the point of contact and Risa moaned against her skin as she moved her hips to further pin the witch in place.

Morrigan felt her blood turn to liquid gold, a frightening sensation, too much, too harsh, too fast, and she moved away from the elf's touch. Risa's wandering left hand clamped in place over Morrigan's breast and her palm worked against it in a rough circle, leaving Morrigan to bite her lip as her nipples stiffened and send sparks of lightning straight to her core.

The men she had been with, entranced, obsequious, servile…afraid. Risa held no fear, and the lack of it spiraled Morrigan into a place she had never been…away from the iron clad control she had super-imposed over her entire existence. The feral nature in Risa beckoned to the witch like the howl of a wolf-pack, a sacred song, a warning cry, indeed, indeed, indeed…a night for darker dreaming.

Risa forced her thigh between Morrigan's legs, driving it up against her center and Morrigan groaned at the harsh sensation of Risa's rough leathers against her naked flesh.

"Bite." she whispered to the mouth that held her, deciding to run with this wolf whose howl was the heat of lips against her flesh, the insistent press of hands that had shed blood.

"Off." Risa tugged at Morrigan's shirt, which she had donned to protect herself from the chill of the Deep Roads.

Morrigan lifted her hands to her shirt, finding that they trembled as her hips bucked against the insistent press of Risa's thigh between her legs. The impatient elf grasped the hem of the shirt and ripped it roughly over Morrigan's head and tore it off of her arms before lowering her mouth to the witch's breast and obeying the order given. Her teeth savaged the skin, skimming back and forth over Morrigan's taut nipple. Morrigan gasped as the teeth pressed deeper, over the edge of pain and back into pleasure as Risa's nails raked up her naked sides, leaving red stripes on the alabaster skin.

Sweat sheened her skin as Risa flicked her tongue against the tip and bit again and Morrigan scented her own arousal in the stifling air, a frightening primal aroma that served only to quicken her desire. She knew, beneath the leather, that Risa's core was as inflamed as her own, as drenched and rigid and needy. She moved her hand to the elf's shirt, but Risa grasped her wrist and slammed it against the wall.

"How dare…"

"Hush." Risa growled.

Her thigh moved and her hand replaced it as she drove three fingers, without preparation or preamble, as deep as she could into Morrigan's sex, a deep rumbling tearing from her throat as she found the witch heated and slick, not only needy, but desperate.

A strangled gasp tore from Morrigan's lips, echoing in the chamber and Risa kissed her on the mouth, ungentle, biting her lips and savaging her tongue, uncaring if their teeth collided in her frenzy.

"Do. Not." Risa punctuated the words with violent upward thrusts. "Make. A. Sound."

Morrigan pitched forward, breathing in ragged gasps as her legs began to shake, as Risa's teeth closed on the shell of her ear, over-stimulating the nerves, driving into her, evoking too much, revealing too much as Morrigan's proud, haughty tones were reduced to desperate whimpers. Risa altered the angle of her hand, letting her palm press against Morrigan's stiffened bundle of nerves, grinding against it with each thrust.

"Damn you into hell." Morrigan cursed as she felt her muscles clench and spasm in an ancient, remembered melody.

"Follow me there." Risa ordered, and her eyes flashed in the dark, and Morrigan fell headlong into the abyss, muffling her scream in Risa's shoulder, her muscles fluttering against the elf's hand, her thighs warming with her release.

Risa lowered her onto the ground, onto her back, watching with hungry, feral eyes as Morrigan's breasts rose and fell.

"Not enough." her voice tore from her throat with that raw, primal sound and Morrigan found her body reacting, awakening, stiffening again as the elf stretched out above her, pressing their breasts together.

Risa's fingers tangled in Morrigan's midnight hair, releasing the ties, allowing it to fall around the witch's shoulders. Morrigan, desperate to feel the elf's sweat slicked skin against her own, that resonance of lightning and salt and friction. Her fingernails transformed into claws and she raked them down Risa's back, hearing flesh and material rip, her arousal heightening as the faint scent of blood tinged the air, as Risa purred deep in her chest and bit down hard, once more, on the witch's breast.

Morrigan writhed beneath her as the elf removed her blood stained, shredded shirt. The primal creature in the witch reached up, coating her fingertips in the elf's blood and painting her lips with it.

Risa's mouth covered her own then, tasting the blood, the life between them like two beasts fighting over a kill. The elf's hand fumbled over the lacings of her trousers and she tugged them down over her willowy hips, baring her skin fully to the chilled air. Morrigan reached for her, but Risa slapped the hand away and held the witch in place with her own body, forcing the witch's skirt down, letting the pain in her back ripple into pleasure.

Risa's lips traced downward, her teeth scraped over Morrigan's taut, jerking stomach as the witch gripped handfuls of stark white hair, attempting to hold her in place.

Risa slapped at the hands that held her, and when Morrigan did not listen, she bit, too hard, at the juncture of torso and thigh, frenzied by the stifled scream that died all too soon. But the hands released her and Risa closed her mouth over Morrigan's folds, spearing her tongue into the witch's opening, savoring the wild, exotic taste of the forbidden. Morrigan's body jerked beneath her and her lips parted, but no sound came forth as she threaded her hands in Risa's hair, this time not to dissuade, but to hasten.

Risa swept her tongue across the witch's folds, darting around the bundle of nerves, making it twitch in anticipation. Morrigan bit the inside of her cheek. She would not beg, she would not want…this entire circumstance was madness that she wanted no part of…and yet her body hummed beneath Risa's fevered touch, she yearned once more for release, craved it, needed to belong, to be possessed by something that was not magic, that was not illusion, that was real and solid and stable and…

Here…here with me…

"Again." Risa clenched Morrigan's clit between her teeth and nipped it, eliciting a shrill, strangled sound that heightened her fervor. "Now."

She sucked Morrigan in deep, pressing her tongue to the rigid skin in an insistent rhythm, entering the witch with her fingers once again and driving her over the precipice of the world's oldest mountain.

The witch moaned and thrashed, her hand pawed at Risa's back as the elf rose above her, catching in the shallow furrows she had made in the elf's flesh. Risa stiffened and her glowing eyes flashed with pleasure.

Morrigan's boneless body attempted to rise, but Risa pressed her back onto the ground, to the floor that was not quite so cold any longer.

"Stay." Risa ordered, biting off the edge of the word. She leaned forward and rested her hands on Morrigan's shoulders, keeping her pinned to the ground.

The witch raised her legs, attempting to throw the elf off of her, stopping as a strangled gasp pulsed against her skin. Risa's hands gouged into her as she straddled Morrigan's thigh, her hips working in an undulating rhythm. The elf laid her teeth against the taut, frustrated muscles in Morrigan's neck, staking her claim like an alpha wolf as her hips pumped harder, faster, throwing her over the edge with a muffled shout.

She collapsed atop Morrigan's body, breathing heavily, tangling her fingers in her witch's hair and moaning with content and the now realized pain of the wounds down her back.

Incensed, Morrigan threw Risa off of her body and into the elf's discarded clothes. She rose and gathered her own garments, covering her nakedness, ashamed of having given in. She glared at the elf on the ground, naked, on all fours, panting with her release, eyes glowing in the dark like some nightmare creature from old women's tales.

"'Tis best we never speak of this again." the haughty tones returned to Morrigan's voice, the iron control over her own life resurged, settling into place…not as easily as before. "Nor should you approach me in any semblance of desire for repetition."

"Very well, witch." Risa spoke, that infuriating smile in her tone once again. "But hear me well…again will come a night of darker dreaming. You will remember. You will remember and you will find me and you will crave this experience over."

"You over-estimate your talents and my desires." Morrigan sniffed. "'Twas a sating of curiosity, nothing more."

She stalked away, hearing Risa's voice following after. "Do not deny it, Morrigan." that voice, feral, low, dangerous. "Do not deny it."

The proud witch hung her head, feeling shivers down her spine and an insistent pulse between her legs that would need calmed…again.

Author's Note: Hello all, and thank you for reading! This is somewhat a deviation from my normal style, but it was a request from a fellow fanfic author, Drummerchick7. Any fan of Dragon Age should take a look at her fic, "Forbidden Magic." Lots of good things going on there. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this, even the non-canon aspects of it, and I would love to hear feedback from you. Neither third person nor smut are my strong suits, and I'm always hoping to improve.

Bright Blessings,

~Raven Sinead