#i should have just ran around with all the companions with fenris to hear them gossip like teenagers

[amatres]

anyway my thoughts on fenris's romance now that i've played it without the haze of completionism from when i was a teen is that it feels overall rather peaceful. like yes there's angst and the three year gap, but a lot of the flirting felt very intimate and the fact they do have the three years to think on their feelings gives it a more slow burn feeling to it? also fenris always caressing hawke's face was very cute

[louiseleblancdiggory]

 Once Upon a December

Chapter 2: On This Journey to the Past Home

A/N: I had such a hard time coming up with the best way to write this chapter since it’s the introduction of six characters at the same time. I hope it’s not too bad. Also, if you’re gonna ask to be tagged could you please send an ask? It’s easier for me and if I forgot to tag you, just message me. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

Despite the fear clawing its way into her mind, the deep chuckle from the cloaked man behind her soothed some of her nerves. His voice was cold and deep, even when he was laughing. And if he was laughing, it meant that they weren’t mad enough to kill her, right?

Or maybe they’re a bunch of murderers and are laughing because they’ll take their sweet time with you.

Lin didn’t raise her head from the marble floor, her body being taken by the pain of slamming against the man and then the floor. Her eyes went from one man to the next. Two of them stood a little bit behind the other three. One of them had a black cloak and the other had a white one. The white one, she realized, had been the one she saw smiling earlier. She wondered if he was smiling now, but the cloak and the shadows didn’t let her see it. The man she had decked across the face stood in front of her, his arms crossed and even with his charcoal grey coat hiding his features, she could sense the sneer on his face.

Not that she was in position to pick, but she would very much prefer dealing with the white cloaked man than this one.

The guy was flanked by two other in brown. Although, differently from their apparent leader, they didn’t bother hiding their faces. Both tan, with harsh features and tawny eyes. One was blonde, appearing to be in his late thirties or maybe even forties. The other one looked more around late twenties, his ebony hair tucked in a low pony. In any other situation, she might have found them somewhat attractive.

She didn’t dare turn around to see the one that had stopped her.

“Shouldn’t someone take that bottle from her?” The man in white asked, stepping into the light. If she hadn’t been laying down, her jaw might have dropped at the sight of his face. He could very well be the most handsome man she had ever laid her eyes upon. Flawless brown skin, dark blonde hair and black eyes, he looked like the warrior-princes in the books she read. “I mean she did manage to deck Lorcan across the face and run a fucking lot. And then there is also the pup ready to bite our ankles.”

Lorcan. The man in charcoal grey was named Lorcan.

She heard the footsteps of the man behind her before she saw him. He unhurriedly walked to her front to join his companions, and Lin finally sat up. As Lorcan, his face was hidden by his light grey cloak. She picked the dog up and stood, taking a step back.

When she fully stood the light filtering from one of the highest windows illuminated her face, and she scowled at the six men.

“Holy fuck.” The pretty one said out loud when he took a look at her face. “Holy fuck. Please tell me everyone is thinking what I am thinking.”

“Shut up, Fen.” The one in black grunted, stepping closer to Fen. Lin then realized that their faces were near identical, even though he looked like the dark side of his brother’s fair coin.

Twins then.

“Look at her face.” He was gaping. Why the hell was he gaping?

“Why the hell are you gaping?” She said before she could consider the words. She almost flinched at her own tone— being rude wouldn’t help her at all right now. But she had already spoken with confidence, so now she must continue with the facade. “And who the hell are you?”

“You’re not really in the position of asking questions right now, lady.” His twin answered before Fen could open his mouth.

“You’re not really in the position of telling me how to act, sir.” Oh she was screwed. She was so, so screwed.

The six men surveyed her, their eyes scanning her head to toe. She felt the urge to shift on her feet, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction even though she had a feeling that they all knew how her heart was pounding inside her chest.

The pretty one, Fen, decided that she passed whatever inspection because he decided to answer her earlier question despite the looks he was receiving from the other five. “I’m Fenrys. Lovely meeting you.”

Her eyes narrowed and she took another step back. Fenrys’s wolflike smile only grew wider. “And the others?” She jerked her chin to the other five, still faking confidence. She needed to run and she needed to do it before they decided they didn’t want to toy with her anymore but she knew that without another distraction, she wouldn’t run five steps before they caught her.

Surprisingly, the golden man in brown answered her question too. “Gavriel, lady.” His voice was chill and gentle, and some of her nerves calmed further. Maybe he would convince his friends to kill her quickly as a mercy. He looked at the other four men who remained silent and sighed. His next words, however, caught her by surprise. “We are very sorry for scaring you and your dog. We didn’t expect anyone else to be in the castle.”

A blink was all the surprise she showed.

Maybe they wouldn’t kill her. She almost choked in relief.

Talking to him seemed safer than the others, so she nodded. “I wasn’t planning on coming in, but the dog ran inside and I came after it.” If he was surprised she answer, he didn’t let it show. “I can leave now and I promise I will not tell anyone that I ever saw any of you.”

Fenrys laughed at that. “I have a better plan.”

At that, her entire body went visibly taunt.

“Fenrys.” The man with ebony hair in a pony growled. “Stop trying to scare the girl.”

Fenrys didn’t stop looking at her. “Am I scaring you, lady?”

“The only thing scaring me are your manners. Maybe I should have decked you across the face.” Lin raised her chin. She had survived ten years with men trying to taunt her day and night, and since his companions didn’t seem inclined to kill her, Fenrys was just an asshole trying to get a reaction. “Maybe strong enough to break your jaw. It would certainly save me from your blabbering.”

His twin’s mouth fell open before he howled. The man was almost doubling with laughter, and the other ones seemed to smile. At least the ones she could see the faces. Two of them remained unknown and it bothered her. A lot.

“The idiot laughing Connall,” the man with ebony hair said. “I’m Vaughan.”

She merely nodded to acknowledge she had heard him. Against her best judgment, her eyes went to the guy in the grey coat. Not the one she had hit, the one that seemed to be their leader, Lorcan. No, she was staring at the one who had been the one to reach her and grab her elbow. She could swear his eyes were fixated on hers as she turned to him. His attention unnerved her enough to make her reckless. “And the one watching me like a fucking buzzard would be?”

He seemed to tense, either because of her attention or her harsh tone. Probably the latter.

No one responded as if sensing the shift in the air.

“What? You grabbed me by the elbow and slammed me against the floor, I should at least know your name.”

“What’s yours?” Oh, his voice. Something inside of her jumped when hearing his voice, his accent making the words roll out of his tongue. She would have frowned at herself if she wasn’t completely focused on the man before her. Even the others seemed to be interested in their conversation.

Lin smiled. “I asked first.”

Even under the layers of his cloak, she could feel him smiling in return. “Connall was right. You’re not in the position to ask questions.”

She just stared blankly at him. Neither he or one of his companions seemed interested in breaking the silence or getting involved into their pissing match. Lin ached to remain silent, but she also knew it wouldn’t help her, at least not now.

Pick your battles wisely, Lysandra would say and then add upon seeing the look on her best friend’s face, Not all of them, Lin.

“Why don’t you at least let me see your face? After all you’ve seen mine.”

He considered. He started to slowly circle her, looking her from head to toe several times. She wanted to stay put, but there was something about him that was both alluring and infinitely annoying.

“Why are you circling me?”

He didn’t respond but, surprisingly, took a step into the light and took off his hood.

iknowyouiknowyouiknowyou

The pulsing in the back of her head came back with full strength. Her vision swayed, and she clenched her jaw in order to not pass out. When she felt slightly better, she analyzed his features. Fenrys might have been beautiful but this man was… Alluring. Handsome. Lin wanted to take a step forward and analyze his features more clearly. Wanted to see the exact shade of his green eyes, see if his hair was actually naturally silver. She wanted to clearly see every single harsh and sharp line of his face. If Fen was the fair warrior-prince, this man was the morally grey warrior that you never know if you can really trust.

He was staring at her, eyes narrowing. He took a step forward, head tilting to the side. For some reason, he seemed somewhat confused.

Maybe it was his confusion that made her say, “My name is Lin.”

He nodded, almost disappointed. “Rowan.”

“You look like the old royals.” Fenrys blurted out, making Lin’s attention snap back to him.

“Fenrys.” Vaughan and Rowan grunted at him.

“What? She does. Look at the hair and face shape. Even her eyes look like theirs.” He walked up to her and she tensed, not daring to run with him so close. He bent down, staring right into her face. She really wanted to punch him to see what he would do. “She’ll be just perfect.”

His twin brother and Gavriel groaned.

“Perfect for what?” She snapped.

“To pretend to be the lost princess, of course.”

She gawping at him, she knew. She continued until she felt laughter bubbling up her chest and let out the most dramatic cackle she could manage. Despite being alone in the world, being constantly worried about Lysandra, about money and her plans, Lin couldn’t stop laughing at what the man had suggested. She was almost doubling over, and the dog in her arms jumped to the floor. Lin knew she shouldn’t laugh at the face of six men who could very well kill her, but it was just too damn funny.

“Pretend to be what?” She said, trying to stop laughing. Fenrys scowled at her and the others watched the scene or humorously or bored. “Isn’t this the infraction of about twenty laws, one of them being treason. Which would result in the gallows?”

When he didn’t answer, she let out another chuckle. “I have a neck way too pretty to be tied in a rope, boyo. And there is the fact that I don’t know any of you, much less trust any of you. Find another idiot.”

“You wouldn’t go to the gallows.” Vaughan said, and she was shocked that some of them agreed with Fenrys. Her eyes went to Rowan, but he was just watching everything with a blank expression. Vaughan continued, “People do it all the time. You would study everything about them, about their kingdom, go to the royal family, say you are the lost princess and they decide whether or not you’re lying. Worst case scenario, they kick you to the curb.”

“And the new queen?” Why the fuck was she even entertaining the idea? She didn’t know any of these men, and she already had a mission of her own. Lysandra couldn’t wait while she pretended to be a princess.

“She wouldn’t know.” Connall smiled viciously.

“Fuck no. I have better things to do.” She said, taking a step towards the wood panel she had come from. Despite their sizes and mean demeanors, Lin now doubted they would kill her. “Places to be, people to see. Find. Another. Idiot.”

“Are ‘better things’ sitting on the rooftop of a shabby house and drink vodka?” Fenrys called after her, and her head whipped back. Not to Fenrys, no, but to Rowan. The silver flash earlier… “You.”

He gave her a feral smile.

“You followed me here.” Lin said incredulously. “Didn’t expect anyone in the castle my ass. What the hell is wrong with the six of you?”

“We need a princess.” Vaughan said simply.

“Well I’m not one so leave me alone.” She grunted and turned around again to leave. These people must have been complete lunatics if they honestly had followed her here just to make her accept pretending to be the lost princess. The lost princess that everyone knew was dead. Her coat and shoes had been found by the riverbank in the dead of the winter and no one, especially an eight year old, would survive the Florine during December. Why the Galathynius still accepted people claiming to be Aelin was beyond her.

“We would pay you.” Connall called after her and although she didn’t stop, she started walking just a little bit slower.

You do need money, you know?

Lin was going to start calling the annoying voice in her head Stupid Sense and maybe light a few candles to ask for good, old common sense.

She could get the money somewhere else. They would probably only pay her if she was accepted as the princess, and Lysandra couldn’t wait that long.

“And for your passage to Banjali.” Gavriel added.

That made her stop.

“There’s no train to Banjali. The Adarlanian roads are closed in the southern borders.” She replied quietly, still not turning around. A plan was forming in her head, but she didn’t know if the results would outweigh the dangers.

If she accepted their offer, they could pay for her train ticket to Inish. If the Adarlanian borders were closed, the only way to get to Eyllwe was through the Western Wastes. If she said her condition was to go through a route that had Inish in its way, she could be there in little over a month. But then there was the big problem: she didn’t know these men. They could be the worst kind of scum for all she knew, and traveling with all six of them would require her to be always paying attention, minding her surroundings. She would constantly need to have an escape plan. She did know how to fight, and against one of them she might even had stood a chance but all six? She would be dead before she could even draw her knife. No, with them the wisest would be to run.

Maybe that was what she was going to do once they got to Inish. She would grab Lysandra and they would sneak to the Red Desert in a boat, save some money while in Xandria and then go to the Southern Continent. During the time until Inish, she could pretend she intended in faking being princess to the old royals. The perfect plan but that could go wrong in so many ways.

“There are several routes through the Western Wastes.” Gavriel answered her earlier statement.

Fucking bingo.

She slowly turned around to look at them again. If she was going to accept this, she would need to face the risks daily. Being on her guard all the time was exhaustive and Lin really thought she was past that now that she had left the orphanage. But she also knew that it would take months for her to get all the money she needed in Orynth, and for Lysandra she would risk her life.

“I would have… conditions.”

Fenrys smiled like a wolf.

“No shared rooms. I get to keep my weapons. When we are not studying the Galathynius, neither of you speak to me because we are not friends. Or even colleagues. And, the most important, I pick the train and the route.”She crossed her arms and would have taken a more dominant stance if there wasn’t a dog sitting on her feet. “Oh, and the dog comes.”

“You got it, lady.” Fenrys said immediately.

“No, she fucking doesn’t.” Lorcan spoke for the first time since when he scared her. His voice was just as creepy. When he looked at her, she refrained from giving him a scolding glare. “Stay put. We will discuss your… conditions.” And with that the immediately formed a tight circle and spoke in hushed voices.

She rolled her eyes and knelt to take a look at the dog. Now that she wasn’t running after it or away from the group a few meters away, Lin could realize that the dog’s pelt wasn’t that dark of a golden blond as she had imagined, it was just extremely dirty. The paw had some dried blood, and as well as other spots in the pup’s body. One quick check and… yes, female. She was a lovely thing, no more than six months old and despite the dried blood and dirty, she looked pretty decent. And she also couldn’t be badly hurt considering how fast she could run.

“You and I are going on a funny field trip, Fleetfoot.” Despite her nerves, Lin smiled.

—————————————————

“Is there really anything to debate? That girl could be an Ashryver if we only considered her looks.” Fenrys whispered. 

“That girl has the manners of a demon.” Rowan replied, leaving his opinion clear in this expression. She didn’t want to do this, much less travel more than a month with that girl. 

She somehow got under his skin way too easily. It was like a more witty and smart version of Fenrys. Terrible

“Not the manners, clearly, but that can be adjusted. Again, she looks like an Ashryver.”

“And have you ever seen an Ashryver to know that?” Rowan’s voice came harsher than he intended, but his temper was slipping. He was the only one completely against this stupidity, his brothers seemed to be way too interested in the money that they could get to think clearly.

“Have you?” Fenrys snapped back, and when Rowan didn’t reply, he just went on. Fen was definitely the most excited about this. Earlier, when they were at the cathedral, he was looking outside of the window when he literally squeaked. Everyone knew of the Galathynius that had survived and now lived in Banjali with the Eyllwen royal family and how they sometimes accepted visits of people claiming to be Aelin. None ever actually was Aelin, and Fen thought that they should try their luck. Find a girl who looked like the dead princess, teach her, convince the Galathynius she was Aelin and then get fucking rich by blackmailing the poor girl.

All of them went to the window to look at the girl drinking her ass off on a roof and even Rowan had to admit that she looked like an Ashryver from afar. He didn’t even know she had also seen him until minutes ago when she looked back at him with enough wrath to make him want to take a step back.

The girl was like fucking wildfire, cursing like a sailor, hitting people with vodka bottles and inserting sarcasm in every single sentence.

“Her demands also are acceptable and expected.” Vaughan sided with Fenrys. He had been pissed earlier because he insisted that there were better ways to approach her. Connall said that it was better to have the element of surprise. Rowan just wanted to hit both of them. “She’s a girl traveling with six men, of course she wants weapons and privacy. And after you guys decided to so delicately approach her, it was obvious she wouldn’t be inclined to sit with us during afternoon tea and make friendship bracelets.”

“I didn’t know we had afternoon tea.”

“Connall, for the love of the gods, be quiet.” Gavriel said, giving one of the twins a slap on the back of his head.

As they kept bickering, Rowan let his gaze fall upon the girl. Lin.

Even though he never revealed to any of his friends, Rowan had seen an Ashryver up close. Two actually. A boy around his age at the time who would sneak off the castle to play with the other street boys and a younger girl who looked like his carbon copy. The boy he had seen far more than the girl, being friends with him for a while. Before Rowan could ever fully befriend the girl too, everything had gone to shit.

He still remembered the day when he woke up in a crappy orphanage and everyone was talking about how Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was dead. The king, Orlon, had died in the attack to the castle but Aelin had disappeared. He remembered the pain in his chest in imagining Aedion, his friend and her cousin, discovering he had lost her. He remembered his own pain in imagining the girl he had seen twice but had been kind to him both times, and how he would never befriend her too.

Lin did look like Aelin. If she had survived, the two girls would probably look very much alike. Sharp jawlines, high cheekbones and a small nose, Lin looked as royal as the new queen sitting on the throne. Even if he and Fenrys were right and her manners were a complete disgrace.

A disgrace because she wasn’t a royal. She wasn’t Aelin.  

Suddenly, Rowan was pissed and the sight of her only worsened it. It was cruel to go to the Galathynius and present an impostor as their daughter. It was insensitive as fuck for them to play with people like that only for money, and this girl was so quick to accept that it made his stomach turn.

The first sight of her had made his stomach turn too.

“Why does she want to choose the route, though?” Lorcan finally said something, his voice cold. Rowan couldn’t read his face right now, but he knew Lorcan enough to know that he was raging inside because the girl had decked him.

It had been so unexpected that Rowan just stood there blinking.

“Hey, firedrake,” Fenrys said loudly, and Lin’s head snapped up from the dog she was petting. Her eyes narrowed, her impatience and dislike of them simmering off of her. “Why you want to choose the route?”

Rowan held his sigh but Gavriel didn’t.

“Firedrake?” Was all she replied.

“Yeah, every time you opened your mouth was like spewing fire, so what better nickname than a firedrake?” Fenrys smiled and Rowan was sure that if it wasn’t for the dog licking her fingers, she would have attacked him.

“Fuck you. And I want to choose the route because I didn’t lie earlier.”

They just started at her blankly until she smiled, shrugging.

“I have places to be and people to see, wolfie.”

Fen actually laughed and Connall and Vaughan snorted. Gavriel merely smiled but, as Rowan, Lorcan’s face was serious.

Rowan really thought that he would put an end to this. Side with him that this was stupid and that there was no way in hell this could would pass as Aelin.

When Lorcan opened his mouth, though, Rowan’s world fell.

“Welcome to the group, firedrake. Don’t do anything to make me kill you in your sleep.”

The girl had balls, Rowan had to admit, as she smiled sarcastically and almost in a scary way at Lorcan as if to say Likewise.

Tags:

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[ahrorha]

The Splintered Road

Hey,

So this is my second attempt at a fanfic. This time it is about my second favourite elf Fenris. (That voice....melts)

I know Dragon Age II got a lot of hate, but I truly loved the game and its compact setting of a single city. I liked the concept of what happens if you are the town's hero and how much crap you have to deal with if you are the go-to person for everyone. I found the companions you got phenomenal, they had all their flaws, and even if the time jumps were a little awkward at times, I got really invested in their development and the many disagreements you can have as a group of friends.

This story will add another OC to the mix of friends in Kirkwall. I like to add things to stories and give them my own spin ;) I hope you will enjoy my take on Kirkwall through the eyes of one of Hawke's companions, rather than focusing on the main character himself.

Chapter 1

.

.

A forest covered the jagged landscape, its deciduous trees slowly changing colour with the onset of autumn. A shallow river rushed over rocks and fallen trees through it, carving a winding path down the Vinmark Mountains. The sun was setting, casting long shadows between the trees and the moss-covered rock formations. A halla stepped out of the brushwood, listening cautiously before lowering its horned head to drink from the river. Abruptly it raised its head again when it heard the sound of naked feet drawing closer. On the opposite side of the river, a hooded figure appeared. For a moment, they both stared at each other; not sensing any danger, the halla lowered its head again and resumed drinking from the river.

Yssil's piercing amber eyes looked carefully around before lowering her hood. Not wanting to startle the halla, she kept her movements slow and calm. Her left ear twitched as the hood's fabric slipped over the sensitive tip. Kneeling down, she washed her hands before drinking from the river. Her dark brown wavy hair dropped from behind her ear, obscuring her view. Annoyed, she pushed it back, wondering if she should cut it and make life easier for herself. But as soon as she thought it, she remembered her mother and how she combed her hair every evening and morning when she was a child. No, she wouldn't cut it. Not now; she was finally able to grow it again. With a sigh, she shook her head, shaking the memories of the past away. Now was not the time to dwell on them.

She observed her surroundings anew; the terrain had slowly changed in the last couple of days. Though the landscape was still rocky and uneven, she was clearly descending from the mountains. The pine trees had disappeared, making way for oaks and other deciduous trees, and the underbrush was becoming thicker. It was also slowly becoming warmer, though that wouldn't last. With the beginning of autumn, the nights would soon grow colder, and the weather would turn fouler, just like today. She eyed the thick clouds gathering above her head. It wouldn't stay dry much longer. At least with the lower altitude, it became easier for her to breathe.

No, Yssil felt relieved that she finally managed to pass the high peaks of the Vimmark Mountains. The journey hadn't been easy, and it had depleted the few reserves she had. She looked at her thin wrist, cursing that she again had lost some weight. With a sigh, she looked down the river; at least in this forest, she would be able to find more food. And maybe when she eventually would reach the coast of the Waking Sea, she could find a place where she could stay for a while. She sure needed it after months of travelling.

As relieved as she was that she soon would reach the coast, it was also worrisome. It had been her goal for such a long time that now she was finally near it, her nerves started to kick in. She would need to make a decision on what her next move would be. On the one hand, she could try to find a place in one of the smaller villages along the coast. It would be easy to find simple work and make a living, but villages were terrible places to hide. Gossip was ripe in those places, and she would need to be careful not to be sold out to the next slaver or templar. Like it happened in the last place she had tried to stay.

Her other option was to head east to Ostwick or west to Kirkwall and disappear in the anonymity of living in a big city. It would be more challenging to make a living, but no one in a city looked twice at a poor knife-ear. And maybe she would be lucky and find a family that needed a maid or a storekeeper looking for diligent hands. There was also the possibility to travel even farther south, to Ferelden. But that required funds to pay for a ship voyage, money that she didn't have at the moment.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a deep rumble in the sky. Above her head, the trees were swooshing by the wind that had picked up. Yssil shook her head. Here she was worrying about money when she had other problems to deal with. Soon it would start to rain, and by the sound of it, it would be an ugly night. Luckily she already had found a place to shelter, an old abandoned hut, broken and decaying, but it would keep her dry enough. The bummer was that she wouldn't have time to scout this area any further without getting wet.

“You should also find a place to stay.” Yssil murmured to the halla that had started to graze. Quickly she refilled her waterskin when she noticed a stump of a cut-down tree. She cursed silently; this was already the third one she had spotted. She must be closer to a village or a road than she thought.

Suddenly the halla raised its head, its ears twitching nervously, before it bolted, startling Yssil. She listened and could hear weapons clashing in the distance. Quickly she got to her feet, moving back into the forest, away from whoever was fighting.

“GET HIM!” someone yelled.

Yssil froze; someone was being pursued.

“Surround him!”

Shaking her head, she turned back and skipped over the rocks across the river. Berating herself that this was a terrible idea. Quietly she slipped through the trees, moving carefully closer to the fight.

.

“Venhedis.” Fenris cursed.

Even with the detour of not taking the direct route to Kirkwall, the hunters had found him. He shouldn't have travelled the trade route through the mountains, now the hunters had caught up with him again. In an attempt to lose them, he had abandoned the road and fled into the forest. But it hadn't helped. The hunters had moved quickly and efficiently and now were surrounding him. These were no ordinary slavers but a group of seasoned hunters. Danarius must have paid them well for them to come all the way out here.

Their leader, a broad warrior with a heavy war hammer, stepped forward. “Stand down, slave!”

The words cut Fenris deep, fuelling his anger.

How far did he need to run before they would leave him alone?

When would he finally be free?

In a smooth motion, he grabbed his greatsword.

“I am NOT a slave!” he yelled as his markings flared. Enraged, he stormed forward. His sword slashing one of the hunters, cutting him open across his chest, ending his despicable life. Without a pause, he turned towards his next target. Under Danarius, he had trained for these kinds of situations. He had fought droves of men for hours until his body gave out from exhaustion. Over and over again, he had been punished for not fighting longer. Now he would make use of that training. He would make these slavers regret the day they decided to hunt him.

“GET HIM!” their leader yelled, and the hunters stormed towards him.

.

With care, Yssil climbed onto a rock formation and glanced down onto the clearing. She couldn't believe her eyes when she saw an elven warrior fight against a large group of men. His markings flashing as he moved with grace and speed from foe to foe. He was wielding a sword as long as he himself was. But it didn't seem to hinder him. As if the sword weighed nothing, he swung the sword around, felling the men that opposed him.

With an open mouth, she stared at the fight. Suddenly the elf's markings flashed again, and he disappeared only to reappear again behind another foe, cutting him down. Those markings, his abilities, she recognised them from the stories she had heard. It had to be Fenris, Danarius' fabled magical creation and bodyguard.

But what was he doing here?

She watched as he spun around, swinging his sword at another opponent, a big warrior handling a war hammer. It looked like he was the group leader, and he was barking orders while fighting Fenris. Many of his men were already dead or lay wounded on the ground, but the leader managed to stand his ground against the lean elf.

Fear ran through Yssil when she noticed two men carrying mancatchers, trying to close in on Fenris. She also noticed that some of the men had shackles hanging from their belts.

They were slavers. She needed to get away from here.

“This will get him.” she heard someone muttering below her.

Slowly she looked down over the edge of the rocks she hid on and saw two archers below her. They were tipping their arrowheads into a sticky substance.

“He will never know what hit him.” one of them grinned.

His companion was laughing dirty. “He is getting tired; he can't keep this speed up for much longer.”

“The boss will keep his attention.”

With care, they both aimed their bows at Fenris.

Startled, she realised they were going to try and poison him.

“Watch out! Behind you!” she yelled without thinking, but it was too late. The arrows flew already towards their mark.

.

Fenris heard the unexpected yell. On instinct and after years of combat training, he turned his body slightly, dodging another sweep of the war hammer and let his marking flare. He noticed an arrow flying past him, but at the same time, he was hit by another one. A piercing pain flared up from his right shoulder, but he had no time to deal with the archers as the slave leader increased his attacks.

There was a sudden flash behind him as parts of a huge overhanging rock exploded into pieces and crashed down. Judging by the screams, several people were buried under the rubble. Distracted by the explosion, the group leader before him looked past him. In a blink of an eye, Fenris took the opportunity and punched his fist inside the man's chest, crushing his heart.

Fenris blinked and shook his head as his vision started to blur. A cold numbness was slowly spreading through him. His right shoulder and arm were slowly becoming stiff and unresponsive. Venhedis! He realised that they had used poison. Gritting his teeth, he rushed to the next hunter. He needed to finish this fight before the poison would take its full effect. Only three hunters left, but they tried to encircle him, attacking him from different sides. He parried one blow, coming from the left, leaving his right side open. With poison in his system, he wasn't quick enough to turn away and dodge the attack that came from the right.

A sharp pain erupted from his side as one of the hunter's took advantage of his weakened state. Fenris was hit by his waist, and he quickly jumped backwards. Panting heavily, he was facing his attackers, but the world looked more blurry by the minute. His movements felt sluggish. He was running out of time.

Suddenly an arrow flew past him, hitting a hunter in his chest, killing him.

Another arrow was shot; it missed but distracted the remaining two hunters. This was his chance.

Crying out, Fenris' markings flared as he leapt forward, his sword slashing through the air, hitting the remaining hunters in their chests. They flew back from his powerful attack. One hunter fell and didn't move anymore; the other managed to stay on his feet. But before he could take a step, he was hit by another arrow, ending the hunter's life.

Finally, it was over. Breathing heavily, Fenris staggered. Struggling to stay on his feet, he leaned on his sword. He blinked several times as the world started to spin. He squinted his eyes and could just make out a figure moving in the distance. But before he could focus, everything went dark, and he fell to the ground.

.

After Fenris fell over, Yssil slowly stepped into the clearing. Over a dozen hunters lay on the ground, some of them still moving and moaning. Drawing her dagger, she slit the throat of the first one before quickly moving to the next. She couldn't and wouldn't allow them to recover.

Having finished her bloody task, she carefully approached Fenris. She was hesitant to touch him, fearing he would jump up at any minute. His tinted skin was marked with swirling white lines that crept up his arms and neck like vines. She could only imagine he had them all over his body. She could feel the faint hum of the lyrium that was contained within them. Hesitantly she brushed her fingers over them; they were slightly raised from his skin, like faint scars imbued with lyrium. She could instantly feel the hum of the lyrium under her fingertips. She also noticed how his skin was irritated around the lyrium edges. They must hurt him constantly, she realised.

She had heard stories of his wondrous markings, but she always thought it was simply that, just stories. Now she saw those stories were genuine, making this situation only more dangerous for her. Pushing her fears aside, she checked Fenris' vitals. He was still breathing, but he was seriously injured. Yssil cursed silently. Why did she get herself involved? And what should she do now?

She looked around. What a mess she got herself into this time. Not only had she an unconscious dangerous warrior to deal with, but she was also out in the open, surrounded by corpses. She half expected more hunters to appear at any second. Looking back at Fenris, she thought of leaving him here and disappear back into the forest, where she would be safe. Why was he even here, she wondered? Had he been free since his escape? Or was he send here to find her? She shook her head, no that wasn't likely; no one knew she was here. She sighed, knowing she could hardly leave him here.

Above her head, another thunder sounded, and the first drops fell from the sky. “Great! Just what I needed.” she grumbled. “Come on! You have started this.” she said to herself and walked towards the corpse of the leader. The hole in his chest was clearly visible, and where his heart had once been was just pulp. She almost gagged at the sight but managed to strip him from his cloak.

Now, how had her father explained the construction of a stretcher again?

.

The downpour of rain was the first thing Fenris heard.

His head was pounding, and his body hurt, but that was nothing new. Still dazed, he felt someone touching his shoulder. His reaction was immediate. His eyes shot open, and ignoring his wounds, he twisted around. The person let out a startled yell as he grabbed and pinned whoever it was to the ground. To his surprise, it was a woman, another elf. Terrified, she stared at him.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice low and threatening. Having one hand at her throat, he squeezed.

Shaken by his abrupt use of force, Yssil stared at him. The few counts of hesitation were enough for him to get the upper hand. He used his strength and heavier body to pin her down. As he squeezed her throat shut, she panicked. Desperately she grabbed his hand and tried to pry it away, but his grip was like iron. With a deadly glare, he slowly strangled her. She couldn't breathe; she needed to get away.

A wave of force hit Fenris in the chest, and he was hurled back.

A mage!

Fenris shook his head as he tried to get up. Pain pierced through him from his wounds, agitated by his rough landing. Angry, he venomously glared at the woman, who scrambled quickly backwards until her back hit the wall. She was coughing heavily and drew an old dagger.

Of course, she is a filthy blood mage, he thought. He was about to use his markings and jump towards her. But to his surprise, she just held the dagger in front of her, pointing it towards him. Her hands were shaking.

“You lost consciousness.” she coughed. “I was treating your wounds.”

Not taking his eyes off of her, Fenris quickly scanned his surroundings. They were in what looked like an abandoned broken hut. Outside, night had already fallen, and it was raining heavily. The forest outside was occasionally illuminated by lighting, followed by the rolling sound of thunder. The hut itself was in a sore state, the wood had rotted away in several places, and the roof had several holes where the rain leaked through. A small fire burned not far from him, with a small pot hanging over it. Next to the fire, on some broad leaves, lay a collection of herbs, a bowl with steaming water, a small knife and clean strips of linen. In another corner lay his sword and armor.

“Please, we need to get the arrowhead out.”

He focussed back on her; she looked thin and exhausted like so many other elves. Her skin was olive in colour and slightly darker than his own. Her clothes were a strange mismatched mix of leather and cloth. They didn't fit her properly and were mended in several places. His first thought was that she was Dalish, but she missed the telltale vallaslin. She stared at him, and he could tell she was frightened. She was also missing the air of arrogance and confidence he expected from any mage. What was going on?

“Please, let me treat your wounds.” she lowered her dagger.

“Stay where you are, witch!”

“There is still poison in your wound. If more slavers come to search for their comrades, they will catch us. I can't fight them alone. Please let me help.”

From all the things this mage would say to him, this would have been last on his list. She pointed to the corner. “There are your things. You can hold your weapon if you want, but let me get that arrowhead out.”

Fenris couldn't deny that he was still feeling dizzy, and he could feel the warm wetness of blood seeping out from his waist. His abrupt movements must have reopened the wound. Also, his shoulder burned with pain, and he could feel the arrowhead pierce his flesh with each move he made. There was a numbness radiating down into his right arm. The witch was right; that arrowhead needed to come out.

Quickly he went to his possessions and took his dagger from his belt. He needed a more practical weapon in these close quarters if he needed to take the witch out. Then he stalked over to her, grabbed her dagger and threw it to the other side of the cottage. She flinched from his action, and he could feel the fear in her. Good! She had every reason to be afraid. He sat back down next to the bandages, pointing at her with his dagger.

“Make it quick and no sudden movements. Also, no magic!”

She nodded her head. “I promise no magic.”

.

Weary of him, Yssil moved closer. After washing her hands, she grabbed the small knife she had prepared.

Fenris readied himself to stab her if she made a wrong move.

“Here, chew these. It will help with the pain.” She offered him a few leaves of elfroot.

“No need.” he growled.

He needed to stay alert and watch her every move. Looking over his shoulder, he observed how she hesitantly touched him. Suppressing the revolt, he felt, from being touched by a mage again, he watched her work. With greater care than he expected, she carefully widened the wound. To her credit, her hands were more steady than he expected. He could practically feel her nervousness. Soon though, the wound was wide enough for her to get hold of the arrowhead.

“This will hurt.” she took hold of the remaining shaft and started to pull.

Fenris gritted his teeth and groaned as the barbed arrowhead pulled free from his flesh. Immediately Yssil started to press the wound to encourage the bleeding. Then she used the elfroot tea, she had prepared, to flush the wound. Satisfied the injury was clean, and there were no traces of the poison left, she took her boiled needle and threat. Stitching evenly, she slowly closed the wound as best as she could. After that, she bandaged it with a compress of elfroot and healing moss.

“This will help close it faster and prevent an infection.” she explained.

Fenris noticed she was touching him as little as possible during the whole procedure, which he welcomed. It was already bad enough he had to accept the help of an unknown mage.

When she was finished, she moved to wash his other wound, but he grabbed the cloth out of her hands.

“Don't!”

Yssil let go of the cloth and moved back. The more distance there was between them, the better, she thought. She kept a weary eye on him as Fenris cleaned and bandaged the wound himself. The wound at his side was luckily not deep, but the cut was in an inconvenient place and would easily reopen again if he wasn't careful. When he was finished, he put his armor back on. Though she noticed, he didn't let her out of his sight.

At least he hadn't killed her …... yet, she thought.

After cleaning up her meagre healing supplies, she turned her attention to her cooking pot. Carefully she put half of the wild vegetables and some of the rabbit meat in a bowl. It wasn't much, and she hadn't expected she had to share her rations. She lifted the pot with a piece of cloth and brought it towards him.

“Here, you need to eat. I have only one bowl, so don't burn yourself.” she handed him the pot with her spoon.

Retreating back towards the other side of the fire, she sat down and began to eat.

Fenris eyed her wearily, and he waited for her to start to eat first. Occasionally she glanced at him while she ate. She was as wary of him as he was of her. Now in the light of the fire, and taking his time to observe her. He noticed that one of her ears was frayed; someone had crudely cut off the tip with what looked like a blunt knife.

“Aren't you hungry?” she asked him after having already finished half of her meal.

He watched her some more, but nothing happened to her, so he decided it was safe enough for him to eat. It was a simple but good meal. He noticed how hungry he was; with the hunters on his tail, he had little rest, and his last meal was three days ago.

Seeing Fenris finally eat calmed Yssil down. Judging by his demeanour, he was wary of her, but it didn't look like he would attack her. She shouldn't get herself involved. Now she had to deal with the dangers of him and having a group of hunters too close for comfort. Who knows if those hunters weren't also looking for her. She eyed him again; he was still watching her. Could she trust him? He looked tired but was physical in a much better shape than herself. Not that it did matter; if he wanted to harm her, she knew she was in no condition to fight him off.

You made your choice when you yelled to warn him, she reminded herself.

Having finished her bowl, she grabbed her blanket and wrapped it around herself.

“It has been a long day. Good night.” she said to him.

Hoping she would still be alive the following day, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Bewildered, Fenris watched her fall asleep. He couldn't believe she would simply go to sleep after he had attacked her. She was acting like the total opposite of what he expected from a mage. Why had she even helped him? What was her motive, her agenda? Not trusting her, he kept his sword at hand and leaned back against the cottage wall. He wouldn't sleep tonight, but he needed a place to rest, and with the storm outside, this hut was at least dry.

.

It was in the early morning when Fenris startled out of his sleep. He must have been more tired than he thought. Immediately he searched for the mage, but she was still bundled up in her blanket. Sunlight fell into the hut through the door opening and the holes in the roof. The storm outside had finally settled down. He wondered where in the forest he was; she couldn't have brought him far on her own. He could hear the rushing of a river close by. The mage stirred, and he whipped his head back around to watch her.

Yssil stretched and yawned before she got another coughing fit. Quickly she took a piece of the dried embrium roots she kept in her pouch. There were only a few pieces left; she needed to find another plant soon. With her cough residing, she looked at Fenris, who was staring at her. Slowly she began to pack her things.

“How is your wound?” she asked.

He moved his shoulder, it was a little stiff, but it wasn't hurting as much.

“Better.” he grumbled.

“That is good to hear. If you want, I can try to heal your shoulder.” she offered.

“No!”

Taking out a few herbs, she packed them carefully in a strip of cloth. “Here. You need to change your bandage around midday. You can use these to help with the healing process.”

Saying nothing, he took them and watched as she finished packing. Shouldering her pack and bow, she walked outside. Not wanting to leave her out of his sight Fenris grabbed his sword and bag and followed her.

She was pointing to the left. “Over there is where you were attacked.” she explained. “I hope you will find your way back and won't encounter any more trouble.” she smiled nervously at him. “Goodbye, and stay safe.”

He stared after her as she walked away until she disappeared between the trees. It was strange; she had helped him and didn't demand anything from him in return. He had checked his few belongings while she slept and had found them undisturbed. It didn't matter anyway; she was a mage and couldn't be trusted.

Weary for any signs of trouble, he walked in the direction she had pointed out. After not five minutes, he came to the clearing where the hunters lay. Moving between the corpses, he noticed a few of them had their throats slit. She must have done it, preventing any of the hunters to recover from their wounds. It dawned on him that had she not been there, he would have been captured. It confused him; why had she risked her life to help him? What was her motive? He knew his own value, especially to a mage, but she hadn't touched his lyrium nor asked for any compensation.

Leaving the clearing, he moved back to the road when the sound of a distant scream pricked his ears. He whirled around; it had come from the direction she had disappeared to. He listened but heard nothing further. The sound had been very faint, and if he hadn't been an elf, he doubted he would have heard it. Hearing nothing more, he turned back and began to walk again. Whatever it had been, it had nothing to do with him. He froze when another scream reached his ears.

.

It didn't take Yssil long to reach the river. She felt anxious; she needed to get deeper into the forest. There were too many traces here left by people, and when a group of slavers suddenly could show up, it was not a place she wanted to stay. If the map she had copied was correct, this forest would expand farther to the south, and any roads would lead to the villages to the west. Hoping she wouldn't encounter anything else, she decided to keep following the river; it was a valuable source of water and food.

After a few minutes, she heard the bleating sound of a deer in distress. Quickening her step, she soon found a deer lying between the trees with two arrows sticking out of its flank. It trashed around, trying to get back on its feet, but it was too weak from blood loss. Judging by the blood and the stirred up ground, it had already been here for a while, slowly succumbing to its wounds. It bleated again, panting heavily. Shocked by her find, Yssil froze and listened, but she couldn't hear anything but the deer and the rushing of the river.

She hesitated for a moment before she approached the deer; judging by its state, the hunter had lost its track. Looking around, she tried to come closer, but the deer only trashed around more. It looked at her with wide, panicked eyes. The deer was too far gone for her to help; there was nothing she could do but end its suffering. With the deer thrashing around, she didn't dare to come close enough to use her knife; she charged her hand with magic.

“At least I can give you a quick death.” she muttered.

A twig snapped behind her.

“Told you the deer had to be somewhere. Never expected to find a mage with it, though.”

Two hunters with bows came through the bushes towards her. To her horror, they both had a flaming sword engraved on their armor.

Templars!

They would catch her; she needed to get away. Springing to her feet, she ran.

.

Out of nowhere, a force hit Yssil. She screamed as she was knocked to the ground. She couldn't breathe, her mana, her connection to the Fade, her magic was gone. Gasping for air, she saw a third templar stepping out from the bushes in front of her. Roughly he took her left arm and twisted it behind her back; with his other hand, he grabbed her by the neck. He knelt down, placing his armored knee on her back, pinning her to the ground.

“What have we here?” he asked, his voice ice-cold. “A small, wild apostate and here I thought we were only hunting for our dinner tonight.”

With the templars weight pushing her down, Yssil struggled to breathe. She tried to push herself up, but the templar only pressed his knee down further and twisted her arm more.

“Let me go!” she called out.

“And why would we do that?”

The other templars had closed in on her; one had his sword drawn, the other grabbed her free arm and pushed up her sleeve, uncovering her scars. Disgusted, he let her arm fall again.

“A filthy blood mage, that's what she is.”

“I am not!” she shivered in fear. She was caught again. They would lock her up; she would be locked up again.

The templar, with his sword drawn, looked around. “Where there is one maleficar, there is usually more.”

The one holding her gave a hard jerk at her arm, making her scream in pain.

“Where is the rest knife-ear?”

“I am alone!” she cried out.

“You're lying!” he twisting her arm more. When she screamed out in pain, he grabbed her hair and pulled her head up, only to smack it back onto the ground. “Talk! Now!”

“There is no one.” she whimpered, feeling blood trickle down her face.

“We should just kill her and send a report. We can comb out these woods when the reinforcements arrive.”

“Good idea, but before that, let's have some fun.” the templar holding her let go of her head and slipped his hand into her leggings, grabbing her ass.

“NO!” she screamed and struggled, but the templar leaning on her had her trapped. Depleted from her magic, she had no way of escaping.

The sound of someone crashing through the bushes alerted them. The second templar also drew his sword, and they readied themselves.

.

Fenris jumped out from the woods and stopped, taking in the scene before him.

Two templars stood ready, their weapons drawn; a third had the mage pinned to the ground. Her forehead was bleeding, and she was struggling under the weight of the bigger and armoured man holding her.

Fenris narrowed his eyes when he saw the templars hand inside her leggings. He had always thought the south was blessed with their templars and circles, keeping magic and mages under strict control. He couldn't agree more of the necessity of their existence, but seeing the person that had helped him in pain, wounded and touched against her will gave him pause.

“Who are you!” One of the templars demanded.

“I knew it, where there is one knife-ear, there is always more. They are like rats. Take him for questioning!” the one holding the mage commanded.

“NO! Leave him alone!” Yssil yelled.

The templar holding her gave a jerk to her arm, making her whimper in pain. “Keep quiet knife-ear!”

The other two templars stepped towards Fenris. “By the templar order, you are under arrest.”

Fenris took a step back, unsure what he should do; he knew one thing, there was no way he would let himself get arrested. A sickening crack sounded, accompanied by a piercing scream as the mages arm gave way after the templar gave it another jerk. This made Fenris snap. He rushed towards the templars with a flash, cutting one down before they knew what hit them. The one holding the mage unleashed his power onto her again before jumping to his feet and storming towards him.

Fighting the other templar, Fenris watched with fascination at the effect the templar had on the mage. She was gasping for air as if an invisible fist had hit her, rendering her powerless and weak. With both templars attacking him, he shifted his attention back on his opponents. He needed to be careful, or he would open his wounds again. He jumped to the side as one of the templars tried to rush him. With ease, he swung around and cut the templar in his back. Though more seasoned than the simple bandits he often fought, he soon got the upper hand. After a few well-placed strikes, the second templar fell. What remained was the third templar, who tripped as he tried to retreat, making it easier for Fenris to kill him.

.

As quickly as the combat erupted, it was over. The forest turned back to its peaceful state with the singing of a few birds, the rustling of the trees and the river's rushing waters. Yssil slowly struggled to sit up, dazed by another smite. She had the feeling she was going to be sick. Whimpering, she cradled her arm that was twisted at an odd angle. She looked up at Fenris.

“Thank you.” she panted, wincing as another shot of pain went through her arm.

Fenris stood still, not knowing what he should do or feel. He wasn't expecting her thanks, nor was he expecting that he himself was helping a mage without an order nor command. He knew he didn't want the templars to take him, but it was more unsettling that he had acted because they were hurting her.

It shouldn't be that way. She was a mage; therefore, the templars had been in their right to hold her, and he had stopped them out of his own free will. Was it because he was conditioned to help a mage in need, or was it something else.

Angry and irritated, he watched as she staggered to her feet, her face twisted by pain. He readied himself when she bent down, taking a dagger from one of the templars. Only to watch her cut and break several branches from a nearby bush. Having only one arm available, it was a little difficult for her, but she managed it. Then she went to the river and submerged her broken arm in it to cool it down.

She looked back at him; her cheeks were wet with tears, and her face was pale from the pain.

“Could you help me, please? I need to set my arm.”

For a moment, he didn't move, then he stepped towards her. She had helped him when he was attacked and wounded; he owed her a favour in return. Promising himself that he would leave once her arm was taken care of, he knelt down beside her.

He took her arm in his hands and looked at her. After taking a few deep breaths, she nodded, and he pulled. She took a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering. He could feel the bone slip back. Together they bound several of the straight branches against her arm, securing the break in place.

“Thank you.” she exhaled.

“You should heal yourself.” he grumbled, not believing he was suggesting a mage to use her magic.

She looked as surprised at him before shaking her head. “I... I can't.”

She must still be drained by that templar, he thought. Such a drain was a helpful ability, and he wondered how long it would last.

.

Yssil grabbed one of the elfroot leaves out of her pack and started to chew it to combat the pain. She was shaken, not wanting to know what may have happened if Fenris hadn't come to her aid. She could feel his eyes on her while she removed one of the fallen templars belts to make a sling for her arm. The pouches hanging from it she stuffed in her bag.

Slowly she calmed down, and she started to think. This is a problem, she thought, looking at her arm. With it broken, she would have a hard time continuing her journey through the forest. She looked at the, now bled out, deer not far from her. There was a good chance there were more templars; she needed to move fast. Knowing she had to take another risk, she turned back to Fenris, who was still watching her.

“I...” she walked towards him. “Would you please hear me out?”

He stared at her, his eyes narrowed, but slightly nodded when she waited for him to react.

“I think that we need to get out of here. With both, slavers and templars dead, there will be people coming to look for them, and I don't think those will be people you and I want to meet. I have a proposition. Judging by what I heard yesterday, those slavers were looking for you. These forests reach as far as the coast. I can guide you through them; we would be invisible from prying eyes. I won't lie to you; I will need help the next couple of days.” she gestured to her broken arm that rested in the sling. “Please, could you come with me? I can keep us invisible and fed until we reach the coast. Then we will part ways, and you don't have to see me ever again.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

With him saying nothing, she bit her lip nervously. “I... I will give you some time to think.”

She looked around; with or without him coming with her, she needed to move. Turning to the dead templars, she removed the remaining belts, stuffing them and their pouches into her bag. She would go through the pouches later. She also removed a scabbard with a shortsword and tied it around her waist. One of the templars had dropped a sack, turning it over; it contained some cooking equipment, clothing, an extra blanket and a small healing kit. She took the healing kit and rolled a shirt and the blanket up, and bound it to her own pack. All of it was done a little clumsy with having only one arm to work with, but she managed. At last, she went to the deer and roughly cut a piece of its hind legs off, putting it into her cooking pot. Afterwards, she cut into its guts, exposing them. She turned back to Fenris. “With luck, this will attract enough wildlife to cover our trail.”

Fenris had watched her quietly. He was stunned; she wasn't acting like any mage he had ever met. She said thank you and please like she meant it, and he couldn't detect any deception from her. He was also baffled how she stripped the corpses systematically, not wasting too much time. But he was wondering why she needed that sword. Her actions were so far off from what he was expecting that it threw him for a loop.

Having collected everything she needed, Yssil returned to the river and washed her hands and face. Luckily her wound on her forehead had closed, and feeling it, it wasn't too deep. She was ready to move. Fenris hadn't moved at all and was watching her like a hawk. Well, here goes nothing, she thought.

“If you want to come, then we need to leave now. It should get us enough of a head start to shake off any people that will come to investigate.”

She crossed the river and began to walk along the water to the south. After a few minutes, she turned around and smiled, relieved when she saw him following her.

Mimicking her path Fenris followed her. He didn't know exactly why, but the promise of a journey away from prying eyes was an offer he couldn't refuse. Also, he told himself it was better to keep an eye on this strange mage.

[reliciron]

Exploring Arcann’s Romance: Part 1

So Arcann’s romance, huh?

Kinda sucked, didn’t it?

So I’m going to throw down some ideas that might flesh it out a bit. Again, these are just some of my interpretations, and since I love thinking about his romance I would really like to hear other ideas because some of mine are getting stale from how often I’ve run through the scenarios in my head.

Strap in, it’s another long one.

Part 2 here

Like any in-game romance, there are as many different ways to introduce a romance as there are fans of that pairing. No two are going to be exactly the same, but I’ve found that fans seem to get more creative about a romance the less satisfactory the in-game scenes are. If there’s several scenes with good emotional weight that lead to a satisfying confession/kiss/sex scene then a fair number of fics will include the canon scenes in some form. I’m not saying that this is lazy fic writing, I’m saying that its a testament to how good the canon content is. If what we got is shit, then we’re more motivated to make our own; if it’s good, then then we can focus more on the unseen parts of the existing scene, like their internal dialogue, rather than creating a completely new one. Ex. Fenris from Dragon Age 2. All these years later, I still love his romance. I find the flirting and romance scenes satisfying and true to the characters. I’ve read a lot of Hawke/Fenris fanfics, and a large portion of those who addressed their getting together tend to follow the canon scenes closely. They’re not exact of course, often there’s enough of the author’s flavor to make the scenes feel new again, but I feel like this illustrates the trend.

On the other end of the spectrum are romances like Arcann’s. I understand of course, his romance is an afterthought in the game. An addition that came after the story was concluded and tacked on in a single companion alert that could easy be overlooked. Add that little scene variation before The Nathema Conspiracy flashpoint, and we’ve got two measly little scenes and one or two messages. Compare that to Theron Shan’s romance. Assuming you ran through the Prelude, Shadow of Revan, and Ziost, then you’ve been flirting with him for months if not years. (Quick note, I’ve only romanced Theron as an Imp-side character so I’m not sure how different it is Pub-side) We get to see him flustered by our interest in the Prelude. He subtly checks if we’re still interested when we first see him again on Rishi and acts more accepting of our flirtations. He’s even more confident on Yavin 4, going as far as expressing his worry and his own flirtations. We even get kisses! One on Rishi, one on Yavin. And he seems genuinely regretful that we have to part ways. We don’t get much on Ziost, which makes sense since things are happening so fast, but we get enough to know that he hasn’t forgotten us, and he still harbors interest.

In KotFE, we find that sweet, sad, nervous message waiting for us once we get to a mailbox, and once he enters the story we get plenty of opportunities for flirting, kisses, and soft emotional scenes straight through to the end of Nathema (assuming you didn’t kill him or break up).

Arcann’s content looks pretty pathetic in comparison, so it’s no surprise that the few people putting out fics for him have their work cut out for them.

The first major division we can make are: fics that assume Arcann fell for you after he joins the Alliance, and fics that assume his interest started much earlier, when he was still the villain. The second one is: fics who include the canon confession scene, and those who make their own.

Honestly, I think I speak for everyone in that the content for Arcann is so sparse that most readers don’t have a preference. Beggars can’t be choosers after all. But such categories can help us corral our ideas on his romance.

The companion alert itself is seems very heavily predisposed toward someone looking to romance him. He made you armor so you can always be protected for god’s sake! Even if you’re not looking to romance him, it still makes you think that he’s crushing on your character big time (which he actually admits in a message post-confession). Add those pre-romance messages to this scene and it makes it painfully awkward for anyone who doesn’t romance him.

But even then, the whole thing is extremely abrupt. The last we knew in the game, our character is at least on civil terms with him, but his speech is still very formal and his actions still scream nervous subservience. He still seems very unsure of his position in the Alliance, so he’s probably falling back on what he knows from his years serving Valkorian. Emphasis on serving.

I don’t think I need to tell you guys how bad that is; going into a relationship with the person you feel subservient to.

So it’s little wonder that most fics either put way more distance between the end of KotET and the confession or put more work into advancing Arcann’s headspace into a healthier place, often a little of both.

It’s important to me that I don’t fall into the trap of “love fixes everything” because I don’t personally like that kind of relationship.

Arcann’s so messed up that it would take years to get him in to a completely healthy state of mind, and most fics don’t have that sort of time, but we can at least try to get him into a more confident position before we dive into the romance.

Now, to the romance scenarios. Specifically, the ones where he started being interested in you after he joined the Alliance.

The fics I’ve read who do include the canon alert scene, tend to change it a little. It seems best to let it play out normally without picking the flirt option. That awkwardness can then be used in a more natural confession later on.

Either your character hadn’t even entertained the idea of romancing Arcann, or they had but assumed he wouldn’t return their feelings. Depending on how careful and emotionally insightful they might be, they could also worry that their interest would not be appropriate for the situation. They could worry that even if Arcann was interested he wouldn’t be ready for a relationship. At worst, if they’ve noticed his subservience, they could even worry that he wouldn’t refuse their interest out of some misguided need to appease them or because he feared for his position in the Alliance if he refused. After all, your character is the Commander and they are technically in a position of power over him. Do I think he would actually do that? No. But an overly anxious character, or one looking for any excuse not to confess, might worry about it.

Either way, Arcann gifting them armor, showing an almost desperate need to protect them, and his messages paint a pretty obvious interest. They could be too surprised or flustered to properly respond right then, but they could take the hint to start making moves on him. Whatever that means for your character, whether it’s blatant flirting looking to get a reaction out of him, or its more subtle, like little innocent touches and spending more time with him. The response is up to you.

I admit, I’m all about that pining, so I tend to assume that he has already come to the conclusion that he’s interested in your character and that there’s no way they could possibly like him back. So I figure that any flirting will be coming from your character. How long it takes for him to catch on depends on your character’s personality, what kind of flirting their doing, and how unusual it is for them to act that way.

For those who disregard the confession scene entirely, the sky’s the limit. I have a few ideas of my own but there aren’t really any guidelines here so long as you try to keep them in character (if that’s something you want to do, writing OOC characters is an option, just not one I enjoy). And if you DO need them to do something that would be out of character, then spend the time and do the work to get them to a point where it wouldn’t be. If you need Arcann to take control and push your character up against a wall you can’t go from an unsure regretful man to playful sexy man in 3.5 seconds, work on him to get him there. Throughout a reasonable amount of time and circumstances, boost his confidence, make him feel as if that action would be welcome to your character and not frightening. The actions that lead us there, however, are up to you.

As for Arcann’s falling-for-you process:

I think it was first rooted in respect and a little hero worship.

Assuming that he was honest when he said he didn’t feel anything but negative things for you pre-ritual, let’s consider what those might be.

At minimum you were an annoyance. Some little shit who didn’t have the sense to bow down, and kept foiling his plans. The longer you kept making yourself a nuisance the angrier you made him. You somehow managed to find the one ship who could stand up to the eternal fleet, effectively spitting in the face of his military might. You survived what should have been a fatal blow. You had the gall to come back to Zakuul while there was an active bounty on your head. You subverted his own subjects, showed his automated army was not immune to sabotage, stole the majority of his treasury, and came within striking distance of disabling the entire fleet. He went from being mildly amused and faintly irritated at the mention of you, letting you run around Zakuul with only an offhand warning to the people, to being so fixated that he willingly ignored that Scorpio had taken the throne just so he could attack you.

You were willful, persistent, cunning, and absolutely infuriating. A Robin Hood to his Prince John.

But now he’s on the other side. He’s part of your Merry Men. And those qualities take on another light.

With his rage pacified, his newly reemerged empathy has shown him the cost of his actions. Actions that Vaylin is now mirroring. Suddenly facing down the might of the eternal fleet with its legions of Skytroopers and Knights, the shear impossibility of the task finally hits home for him. This is what the Commander has been fighting for months. Through charisma and shear force of will, they’ve managed to convince people to band together against ridiculous odds, and through guerrilla tactics and their own considerable strength they’ve actually been able to hold their own.

If that doesn’t earn his respect nothing will.

And with their continued dogged attacks, even in the face of such adversity, I don’t know how he wouldn’t admire them.

But your character’s been through a lot by the time he joins up. They’ve been at this for months if not years, all the while toting around the ticking time bomb known as Valkorian. We don’t see it in-game, but they have to be exhausted. Mentally and physically. And now he’s in a position to see those cracks start to form. The shadows under their eyes grow darker, their movements more sluggish, and their patience thins. He watches the way their gaze goes distant or they track someone with their eyes when there’s nothing there, and knows that it’s his father haunting them. Every loss hits them harder and weighs heavier on their shoulders, and Arcann’s admiration for them grows alongside his fear.

Fear that they will break under the pressure.

But to his increasing surprise, that worry is less and less about what that would mean for the galaxy, or even the Alliance, and more what that would do to the Commander. He finds that he’s grown to actually like them. The perseverance that once enraged him now leaves him in awe. The tone he’d thought was mocking is now charming or soothing. The depths of their strength is no longer frightening, but inspiring.

There is a light in their eyes. And every day, every appearance from his father, every loss, causes it to dim a little more. And he’s become terrified that it will go out.

I agree that the scene in the throne room is the turning point for him. When admiration and fondness turned into romantic feelings.

“It was not until you defeated Valkorian and took the throne that I realized my feelings had evolved beyond admiration.” - In-game Message

Seeing his father taking control of the Commander must’ve been terrifying. I’m sure he felt it.

There must have been a surge of Valkorian’s power, and then the Commander’s presence all but disappeared.

Our character was so badly broken that they took on Valkorian’s image just to survive. [Brief side note: I loved those scenes where you have to reassemble yourself by stringing your memories together. But taking on Valkorian’s image never made sense to me. If I address this in a fanfic, I’d prefer being a formless glob of light, or maybe a walking collection of shattered glass.]

You were unconscious for so long and Arcann got so scared that we was willing to go in there after you. He even expresses his worry to Senya that he “wouldn’t be strong enough”. Whether he meant he wouldn’t be strong enough to resist falling to the dark side again, or he simply wasn’t powerful enough to defeat Valkorian is unclear, but the important thing is that he was willing to risk it for you.

I cannot emphasize this enough, he was so scared of losing you that he was willing to face down the man who abused him for decades.

And this close call made him realize how important you were to him and how deep his feelings for you actually ran.

Part 2 here

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Promise Me (Reprise)

Chapter 64 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3. 

In which the crew head to the Darvaraad and beyond. Also known as the most epic and heart-pounding scramble in any game I’ve ever played, which I love/hate with every fiber of my heart. 

I made a Spotify playlist for this chapter for those who like listening to music while they read; all songs from the Trespasser OST. 

~9500 words; only an excerpt here. Read the whole chapter on AO3.  

*************************

Sera grimaced as she stepped through the eluvian. “Feels fuzzy here. That’s weird. Trees are nice, though.”

Toby whined and tucked his tail between his legs, and Cassandra frowned at Sera. “It certainly does not feel fuzzy here. It feels very strange. Why is it difficult to breathe? And are you talking about those dead trees?”

Sera’s eyebrows shot up. “Dead? They’re not dead! Covered in pretty blooms, more like.” She gave Cassandra a sympathetic look. “I think your hat’s making your brain a bit wibbly.”

Hawke looked up from where she was rubbing Toby’s jowls. “I’m sorry to break this to you, Sera, but only you and Fenris can see those flowers.”

“What!” Sera exclaimed. “Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s true,” Rainier told her. “Only elves can see the flowers on those trees.”

Sera’s face went blank. Then she trotted up to Fenris and tugged his sleeve. “I don’t like it here.”

“Nor do I,” he agreed. “We will be out soon.” He led them to the darkened eluvian and looked at Dorian. “You have the keystone?”

“One shiny magic-soaked gem at your service,” Dorian said. He pulled the cloth-covered keystone from his pocket and turned to Bull. “Amatus, do you want to do the honours?”

Bull shrugged. “Sure, why not.” He waited until Dorian touched the keystone to the mirror, then spoke in Qunlat: “Maraas nehraa.”

The eluvian’s surface lit up with a mercurial swirl of purples and pinks and blues. Fenris took a step toward it, but Bull held up a hand. “I’ll go first, boss. If anyone’s guarding the other side, another horned guy coming through will give them pause for a second.”

“Good thinking,” Fenris said. He gestured to the eluvian. “Go on; we will follow.”

Bull disappeared through the eluvian. Fenris followed a moment later to find Bull already embroiled in a battle with three qunari. 

Fenris lit his lyrium marks, then phased behind the nearest javelineer and tore out her heart. Four more qunari were running over to engage, but the rest of Fenris’s companions were stepping through the eluvian one by one, and within a couple of minutes, the qunari were dead and bleeding on the ground.

And Fenris’s hand was frothing with unstable magic. 

“Get back,” he barked at his companions. He took three hasty steps away from them and shoved his focus through the flickering mark.

It exploded with a sickening flare of light. A wave of pain tore its way up to his shoulder, but the pain was blessedly brief before settling back into its usual low-level burn. 

He sighed and flexed his green-stained fingers before looking up. Dorian, Varric, Bull and Rainier simply looked resigned, but Cassandra and Sera looked horrified. 

“Maker,” Cassandra breathed. “Is that what has been happening–?”

Hawke pushed past them and strode over to Fenris. “Come on, let’s go, no time to waste,” she sing-songed. “Qunari to tear apart, Viddasalas to punch in the face – we’ve got a very packed schedule ahead.” She looped her hand through Fenris’s elbow and pulled him toward a long stone bridge that led to the main fortress of the Darvaarad.

“Hang on a minute,” Dorian said as he trotted along beside them. “Why didn’t you want us near the mark when you set it off? Is it not casting barriers anymore?”

“It was casting barriers?” Cassandra said in surprise. 

“For a time, yes,” Fenris said. “But I’m not convinced it will do that anymore. It feels volatile – more so than a few hours ago.” He gave Dorian a frank look. “I’m afraid it will injure you rather than protecting you.”

“Kaffas,” Dorian said glumly. “Just tell us when to duck, then.”

They scurried along the length of the bridge, and Fenris quickly scoped out their surroundings as best he could despite the darkness of night. The fortress ahead was tall and imposing, with a guardhouse in front and a tall stone tower to the left. A few large stone sculptures of qunari warriors decorated the otherwise austere surroundings, and as they neared the end of the bridge, Fenris silently counted the guards that he could see.

Rainier and Bull had apparently been doing the same; as they all hunkered down in the shelter of the bridge’s stone wall, Rainier murmured to them. “Three guards at the stone tower, and I think I spotted one in the guardhouse.” 

“Two in the guardhouse,” Bull corrected. “And four more by the entrance to the keep, so that’s nine in total. We should take them out one at a time, fast, or we’ll have a mess on our hands.” 

“Why one a time?” Hawke asked. “Let’s just plow right in and get this done. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t mind a little mess.” 

Despite her lighthearted words, her fingers were tapping on her knees, and Fenris knew why she was impatient; she wanted to push forward in the hopes that Solas or Fen’Harel or whoever it was would remove his disintegrating mark. 

He lowered his voice. “We can’t risk attracting unwanted attention. We have no way of knowing how many qunari are inside.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Sneaking it is. Who do you want where?”

Fenris looked at his companions. “Bull, Cole, Varric and Sera: you go ahead and take out as many as you can. Cassandra and I will assist if they detect you.” He looked at Hawke and Dorian. “Barriers only for now. No offensive magic unless there’s no other way. It will be too obvious.” He scratched Toby’s ears. “You stay here with me, my friend,” he murmured. “A mabari will be far too noticeable.”  

Toby wagged his tail as the others moved into their positions. Bull and the rogues spread out while Cassandra, Fenris, Hawke and Dorian hid by some bushes near the guardhouse. Fortunately – and somewhat to Fenris’s surprise – the plan worked out perfectly: they took down all nine guards without raising an alarm. 

They reconvened at the main doors to the keep. Varric was the last to join them as he returned from the tower; he was holding a letter in his hand, and his face was surprisingly grim. 

He handed the letter to Bull. “Probably something important in here,” he said. “I found it next to some red lyrium.”

“Red lyrium?” Hawke exclaimed. “How the fuck did the qunari get their hands on red lyrium?”

Bull sighed. “Could have been from a smuggling operation. Contraband Venatori stock that the Viddasala kept for her own purposes.”

Dorian folded his arms. “So we’re not just expecting a lyrium-powered saarebas, but a red-lyrium-powered saarebas? Well, that’s wonderful news.” He raised an eyebrow at Fenris. “I do so love coming on these journeys with you. They do so much to restore my health and my sense of wellbeing.”

“I’m pleased to be of help,” Fenris said dryly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly at Bull, who was frowning as he read the letter. “What’s wrong? What does the letter say?”

Bull scratched his ear. “It’s from a saarebas to a viddathari who was having trouble getting used to the Qun. But…” He shook his head. “I don’t know magic, but this saarebas sounds like a red Templar at the end. Stuff about ‘the song liquid’... ‘it will be hard to find the wisdom in the noise. The noise is an illusion like the darkness, but the walls are real.’”

Cassandra frowned. “He was driven mad, then. A dangerous mage powered by red lyrium.”

Rainier shrugged philosophically. “At least we know ahead of time so we can prepare ourselves.” 

This was little comfort to Fenris. Fighting a foe amplified by red lyrium usually meant Hawke using her light-cage to trap them while Fenris weakened them with sympathetic magic from his lyrium marks, but Fenris didn’t want her using her light-cage spell. Furthermore, they had never fought a mage powered with red lyrium before. Red lyrium warriors were one thing; a red lyrium mage, on the other hand… They had never fought a red lyrium mage before.

He took a deep breath to quash his anxiety and ushered his companions into hiding on each side of the double doors into the keep. Bull pushed open one door and stepped inside, and a couple of minutes later, he poked his head out again. 

“Clear for this first corridor,” he said. “But I hear some kind of mechanical clanking further in. Not sure what it is, though.”

Fenris nodded and ushered the others inside. They padded quietly through the empty halls – suspiciously empty halls that made his skin crawl – and it wasn’t long before they came upon a storeroom filled from floor to ceiling with a multitude of pristinely labelled books and artifacts.

“Andraste’s frilly underthings,” Dorian said in wonder. “Look at all of this. What an incredible collection.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “Incredible’s one word. ‘Bunch of weird’ is another.”

“Actually, that’s three words,” Dorian said primly, and Sera stuck her tongue out at him. 

Rainier stepped into the room and ran his fingers reverently over a large animal skull. “This is a griffon’s skull,” he said. He looked at the others with wide eyes. “The last griffons died in the Grey Wardens’ care. How did the qunari get their hands on this?”

Cole tilted his head as he studied an uprooted astrarium. “There’s no pain,” he said. “Just lots of… ideas?” He blinked at Fenris. “I’m not the right kind of spirit for this.”

Fenris slowly shook his head, nonplussed by the overwhelming range of objects in this room. He looked at Bull. “They are collecting this for study?”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “Then they’ll destroy it. Or they’re supposed to, at least. But the Viddasala was using lyrium instead of destroying it, so who knows what she has in mind.” His tone was neutral, but his one good eye was wide as he looked around the room. 

Hawke snapped her fingers. “This must be how they got into the eluvians in the first place! Look at what they’ve got here: rare artifacts, enchanted jewelry, books – Maker’s balls, they have a lot of books.”

“No kidding,” Varric said. “The Arishok sacked Kirkwall over just one book, and here they’ve got hundreds.”

Hawke nodded slowly. “It’s knowledge,” she said. “Knowledge and power: the things Morrigan said you need to open eluvians.” She shrugged and patted Toby’s head. “That’s what they’ve been storing here. This is how they got the eluvians to work.”

Bull grunted. “Hopefully they don’t have any more ancient magic crap to throw at us.” He jerked his thumb at an enormous skull in the back corner of the room. “That dragon skull would make a wicked armchair, though. Maybe we could take it back to Skyhold after this?”

“Don’t you dare,” Dorian warned. “It will spoil Hawke’s decor theme.”

Varric looked at him in surprise. “What decor theme? She doesn’t have a theme.”

“Of course I have a theme!” Hawke said. “My theme is ‘things I like and want to show off in Skyhold’.”

“Uh-huh,” Varric said flatly. “You sure it’s not ‘things that give an impression of total chaos when visiting nobles come to the castle’?”

Rainier nodded. “It really does look like chaos. It’s, er, nauseating, actually.”

“Exactly!” she said. “It’s strategic, you see? They come into the Great Hall and think they’re getting total madness. Then they meet the Inquisitor and realize they’re getting Thedas’s smartest elf instead.” She gestured at Fenris with a flourish. “It throws them off. Puts them on their toes. Needless to say, Leliana approves of my decor.”

“Josephine doesn’t,” Dorian said slyly.

Hawke gasped dramatically. “Did she tell you that? That little gossip! She told me she loved what I did with the Great Hall!”

Cassandra tsked. “Perhaps we should move along. The qunari will have defenses in place. We must not stumble into… into anything blindly.” 

Fenris frowned at her; something on one of the shelves seemed to have captured her attention. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“It’s…” She pointed at a book. “That’s a copy of Swords and Shields.”

“What?” Hawke exclaimed. 

Varric snorted a laugh. “You’re kidding.” He wandered over to Cassandra, who was now flipping through the book.

“It’s barely used,” she said. “The spine is not cracked.” She gave Varric a wry smirk. “It does not seem that they considered it to be a source of much knowledge.”

Hawke chuckled. “Oh please, we all know what you’re thinking. You want to take that copy home, don’t you?”

“Of course not,” Cassandra said. “Why would you think that? I have a copy already.”

Her cheeks were turning pink. Varric and Fenris exchanged looks of alarm, and Varric tried to silently indicate to Hawke that she should stop talking, but it was too late. 

Hawke raised her eyebrows. “Because your copy is falling apart from overuse, of course!”

Cassandra’s face turned bright red. “I beg your pardon?”

Bull grinned salaciously. “Overuse, huh? Go on, tell us more.”

“Yeah, go on!” Sera cheered. “Details, details!”

Cole opened his mouth, and Varric held up a warning finger. “Don’t do it, kid.”

Cassandra glowered at them all. “I’m not – how dare–” She whipped around and pinned Cole with a glare. “Have you been spying again?”

“Oh Maker’s balls,” Hawke blurted. “No no, it’s not Cole, it’s – that letter you sent to Kirkwall before the Exalted Council! Your scribe mentioned…” She finally made eye contact with Varric, then clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh shit, that was supposed to be a secret. Never mind. Um… Look at that vase over there. Isn’t that, er, interesting?”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “That scribe! That cheeky little – argh!” She buried her face in her hands. 

Bull chuckled. “Come now, Seeker, nothing embarrassing about it. It’s perfectly natural.”

Dorian stroked his mustache. “A bit strange that you’re personal friends with the writer of your, er, overused material, though.”

Cassandra shot him a scathing look, but Hawke was the one to reply. “How is that strange? I regularly tell Varric which of his chapters get me off.”

Varric tugged his ear while the others scoffed and chuckled, and Fenris shook his head. “Hawke…”

She blithely went on. “My favourites are the ones where there’s fingertip action.”

“Fingertip action?” Sera exclaimed.

“Yes!” Hawke said. “You know, ‘he traced his fingertips slowly over her petal-soft shoulder…’” She sighed wistfully. “So titillating. And he does it in every smut chapter.”

Sera cackled. “What? That’s tame! That gets you going?”

“Yes, because I know where he’s going with it next,” she said with a lascivious wink. “What about you, Cassandra? What are your favourite smutty bits?”

“I have no opinion on the matter,” Cassandra said haughtily, but she was smiling very slightly now.

Bull smirked at Hawke. “That’s definitely not what I thought of when you said fingertip action.” He looked at Dorian. “Did you?”

Dorian casually brushed off of his sleeve. “I have no opinion on the matter.”

Then Rainier piped up. “I think the biggest question is why Varric writes that titillating fingertip action in the first place.”

Hawke snapped her fingers. “An excellent point!” she said. She batted her eyelashes at Varric. “Are you looking for someone to trail their fingertips over that manly chest of yours?”

Varric tucked his hands in his pockets. “I have no opinion on the matter.”

Despite the growing pain in his arm, Fenris chuckled. Hawke grinned at him, then she started to laugh. Then Varric was laughing, and Rainier and Bull as well, and… 

And all of a sudden, all of them were laughing. All of them except for Cole, who was blinking in a clueless sort of way while he patted Toby’s head, and for some unfathomable reason, that just made the situation even funnier. 

Hawke wrapped her arm around Fenris’s waist as she laughed, and for a bittersweet moment, he admired the brilliance of her grin and the sounds of his friends’ unrestrained mirth. But the bitterness soon overtook the sweet when a lightning-sharp pulse of pain began to stab through his palm. 

He abruptly stepped away from Hawke and left the storeroom. When he was a safe ten paces away, he allowed the accumulated magic in his hand to burst. 

The accompanying agony shot through his arm to up his shoulder, and he clenched his jaw so as not to cry out. When the pain and magic had waned and the blood was no longer pulsing in his ears, he turned back to face the storeroom. 

They were all staring at him with varying degrees of worry and sadness and sympathy. All except for Hawke, whose face was white with fear. 

She exited the storeroom and looked at Bull. “Come on, then. Mechanical clanking noises, you said?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bull said. He gave Fenris a guarded glance as he stepped past them, and they followed him down the hallway in a somber silence.

Read the rest on AO3. 

[midnightprelude]

Innocence Maintained aka Welcome to the Ariverse

A glorious stroke of madness, it could be called nothing else, led me to write a little story based upon @lethendralis-paints's gorgeous painting of her Hawke family and her OC descriptions. Nearly screaming with anxiety, I sent it off to her, not knowing what she would think. We'd spoken before, but not extensively. I don't think either of us knew what we were in for.

A few thousand words and strokes of digital art later, we give to you the first taste of what we've lovingly dubbed the Ariverse, which is essentially anything and everything revolving around our beloved Ariadna Hawke, her parents, and their extended family.

This was the beginning of our friendship and we are delighted to share its first steps with the online world.

Eris and Ariadna are pure Lethendralis, as is the beautiful accompanying artwork. Words are mine, such as they are. We welcome you to the fluffy world of Ariadna Hawke and the many people who fall in love with the sweet angel baby.

Read more below or on AO3.

Fenris had originally planned to look around for herbs and spices. Eris had sent him on a mission to increase their stocks. He had found a patch of elfroot and some embrium. Eventually, the shade underneath a willow had become too tempting and in short order he found himself on the ground, leaning his silver hair upon its trunk. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he unclasped his sheath from his back, resting his greatsword in the shadows adjacent to him. Stretching his legs before him, he removed his cloak, using it as a pillow to create a barrier between his head and the hard wood beneath. He had not realized how tired he was. He allowed his eyelids to close heavily, sighing at the moment of peace.

I am far too old to be getting this little sleep.

He chuckled. He did not, in fact, actually know how old he was. His body had barely begun to register signs of aging. Smile lines were just beginning to show near his eyes, which he attributed to entirely too much time with Eris. The woman had changed him, slowly at first, and then incredibly rapidly. It had taken time, but his friendship with her had eventually blossomed into something more. He had never entirely thought he had deserved her kindness, but she gave it so freely. Not just to him. She loved everyone she met and would often drag the whole lot of them along to fight to the death for a friend she had met the day before.

I should be grateful, given how that was precisely how we met.

Eris Hawke was exactly the balm his soul had needed. He had never had the opportunity to trust another person before meeting her. He was running, searching, hiding, killing. Friendless, he had loved no one before Eris. At least had no memory of it, which was as close to not having it to make no difference. She pulled him along on his adventures and soon he became intrinsically woven into the family she had created—Varric with his unending japes, Isabella with her incessant flirting, Merrill with her wide eyes, Aveline with her stern glanced, Anders with his righteous anger. He found himself loving them all in turn, even when they could not be more different from himself.

Eris found a group of random, dissimilar strangers and from them built a home. Such was her nature.

He was the luckiest of all of them—she had chosen to make a slightly different home with him. They had moved further south than he had ever found himself prior, into the wilds of Ferelden. Nearly back to the home she had fled before their meeting.

They had decided to create a home for themselves, away from Kirkwall. They could not stay—not with Hawke’s unfortunate involvement in Anders’s plot to start the rebellion. They were too well-known in the Marches. The marks on his skin made him an easy target for captors and Hawke’s face was plastered across the cities. No, Ferelden was safer. Even with the rebellion boiling over into the surrounding areas. He was no stranger to fighting for what was his. But now, he had other people to consider.

The thought had barely registered before he was accosted by something small landing on his stomach.

“Papa! I found you!”

He started, reaching across for his sword, pushing it out of her reach.

Yes, he had others to consider now. Eris could handle herself in a fight. She wasn’t his true weakness.

This little one is.

He scooped up Ariadna Hawke into his arms, nuzzling her chubby cheeks against his own. She was nearly four years old and more trouble than she had a right to be. Always sneaking off and nearly giving her mother a heart attack. It was a daily occurrence in the Hawke house.

“Sweetling, were you not supposed to be learning your letters with your mother?”

The girl laughed, her cheeks rosy and smile easy. She had known nothing but love and it showed in her every movement.

“Maman had fallen asleep against the book and I haven’t been outside all day. And I didn’t know where you were! Were you playing a game?” He laughed at her, kissing her head. “Yes, and that game was supposed to be finding some peace and quiet.”

She held her pudgy little hands together, grinning. “Oh, we can look together! I love finding things.”

He sighed. He could not fault her for her curiosity. She was the direct descendant of Eris Hawke, after all. Her mother couldn’t sleep if she was in the middle of reading something particularly interesting and would stay up all night trying to reach the end. He ran his hand through his hair thinking of her.

Ariadna had already moved from his lap and was pulling his sword from the sheath.

He grabbed it from her before she could cut herself. His voice was uncharacteristically stern with her. “Ari, what have we said about that? Are you supposed to touch my sword?”

The girl looked suddenly ashamed, her eyes suddenly growing interested in the leaves coating the ground.

“Ari… I did ask you a question…”

She sighed, huffing. “I know, papa. I just want to be able to protect you.”

He laughed at the thought of his tiny child brandishing his sword against intruders. She was less than a third of its size at her current height. “Ariadna, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what maman said…”

His ears twitched, cocking his head in surprise. “What exactly did your mother say?”

She frowned, shuffling back to his lap. “I heard her talking to Uncle Varric… I did not hear what he said, but maman said something about Templars and… magisshions?”

He laughed. “Probably ‘magisters’, sweet.”

“Magisters. Yes, she said that between the Templars and the magisters, we would have trouble keeping you safe.”

He frowned. He had not thought that anyone from Tevinter would still be looking for him. Nor had he realized that the fighting was getting so close to them. He was surprised that Eris had not told him immediately. Though, she may have been waiting for the opportune time.

“Ari, perhaps it is time that you learn to protect yourself. Though, let’s not start with my sword. I’ll have something made for you that’s a bit more to your size.”

She giggled, pulling his hair. “Are you going to tell maman? She won’t be happy about it.”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to keep it from her for longer than a minute, I believe. We can tell her. She’ll understand. And I’ll teach you to carry your own blade.” He grabbed her hand, which had been wandering back towards his sword. “Ari! Not mine! That has not changed.”

The little girl sighed, cuddling up to his shoulder, resting her soft brown hair against his neck. He held her there, sighing.

Yes, I am the luckiest of our companions.

He held his daughter to his chest and they both enjoyed the summer breeze blowing through the willow branches together, eventually drifting off into an easy sleep.

[oneirataxxiaa]

Demon Claws and Crossbow Bolts -- [chapter one]

chapter one is here ! hope you enjoy this little project of mine. i’ve fancast most of the young justice team as live action actors and actresses. this takes place in an alternate story after the end of young justice : season two. 

yes, i know bex is in the cw arrow series. yes I know she plays an established character. Yes, I know colton haynes also plays roy in that series. yes, I know this, and this doesn’t take place in that universe. 

warnings : swearing , violence , injuries , dark topics

rating : 16+

Central city had been a disaster as far as she was concerned, but being honest, most things that happened with her could be considered as such. She kept a low profile as best she could. Riley walked through the streets of Gotham now, she’d been city hopping since her fight with the Inventor by hacking her way into the Justice Leagues Zeta Tubes. Sure, she wasn’t the best with tech, but having Fenris whisper in the back of her head about how to bypass the whitelist had its pros. It didn’t help however, that he was now complaining about being hungry. It was early evening, the darkening sky stating as much, and Riley hadn’t eaten since the day before, something she regretted at the moment, but it wasn’t like she could just walk into a diner and order whatever she wanted. Her stomach complained but her empty wallet just laughed at her mockingly.

The Barbarian suit - more of just a red army vest - was hidden under her jacket, the holster vest was in the bag slung over her shoulder, along with a few various necessities and the set of dull golden coloured brass knuckles that acted as her main weapon. The bag wasn’t heavy for her, though she had seen others have trouble with it, it was simply awkward to carry for such a long period of time. 

“food. now.” the growling voice had grown in anger inside her mind for the past few hours. 

“You’ll get food when I can find somewhere to eat for free” Riley grumbled to herself. A nearby lump on the ground, now revealing itself as a person sleeping on the side of the street, moved, the man looking up at her in confusion. He had bags under his eyes and a wild puff of black-grey hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in weeks. Which might of just been true.

“Steal. then Food” Fenris growled again. Riley tore her gaze away from the homeless man and continued her walk. 

“we can’t steal here, we’ll have the Bats on our ass if we do”. Riley didn’t hate the Batman and his little followers, but she would have rathered not to run into them while she was in Gotham, already on the run as was. Fenris seemed to go quiet for a moment after this, perhaps questioning whether he really wanted to deal with any more enemies after Central City.

“alright. Wait then.” The demon sounded reluctant, but it wasn’t like he had a choice in the moment. The Gotham streets were almost completely empty, which was good, Riley didn’t need people with a direct line to the news station to see her muttering to her hidden companion. She would be on the news within hours being branded as one of Gothams new crazies. “not happy” Fenris continued, and her stomach complained again. 

“I get it Fen, you’ll live, just give me a heads up if you start to feel murderous.”

Riley was in downtown Gotham now, more isolated, but certainly not quiet. Someone ahead of her, down the street and around the corner, was talking, loudly and in a mocking tone to someone else. The secondary party was silent, seeming to take the verbal abuse without any qualms. Curious, Riley walked closer to the corner, steadying her breath and peaking around the edge of the concrete. Riley didn’t recognise the villain, but as she looked at the second party, she certainly remembered seeing those colours before. It was a minute or so before Robin got tired of the villain talking, and moved in to fight. A quick silver staff hit with a crack against the villains knee, sending him down to the ground, then another hard tap on the mans head and he stopped moving, though the rhythmic movement of his chest betrayed that he was still breathing, simply not unconscious. 

Robin spun the metal bo staff around again, securing it on his back, bending down and nudging the villain with his hand. When there was no reaction, he deemed it safe and raised his hand to his ear, talking to someone unseen from Riley's eyes.

“Bats, I found Kite-Man trying to cause some trouble downtown, should I drop him off at Blackgate?” There was silence, but Riley assumed that someone was talking through a comm link. The woman moved slowly, walking from shadow to shadow to stay out of sight of the costumed hero. Fenris growled in the back of her mind to attack, but Riley didn’t exactly want trouble with boy wonder. He continued to talk, and Riley moved from the edge of the building, back into the almost empty Gotham streets.

Three minutes past of walking, her destination was the next known Zeta tube, down by the border line between Gotham and Bludhaven. She was heading to Starling City next, hopefully permanently. Riley turned another corner when she heard it. The faint scraping of metal on metal. A creak, a groan and some clicks. All faint, as if the source was keeping itself hidden on purpose. She turned her head.

She couldn’t see anything for a moment, the shadows obscuring anything from view. Within seconds however, something large and metallic lurched out of the night. It was humanoid, giving homage to some old steampunk movie with pipes and steam and glowing clock like eyes.

“Oh for FUCKS SAKE” Riley yelled, turning and taking off down the road. Turning into an alleyway, she raised her hands, leaping and grabbing the base of a fire escape, hauling herself onto the landing and crawling up the stairs with haste. She was on the roof in a few moments, racing across the concrete landings. Riley reached her hand awkwardly into the bag on her back, shuffling through different things until she found the cold metal she was looking for. The woman pulled out the set of dull brass knuckles and secured them around her fists. 

As she passed another fire-escape, something grabbed at her from the edge, one of the machines trying to grasp at the bag on her back. It succeeded, snatching the fabric and tossing Riley back against the lip of the building with a thud. The breath knocked out of her, Riley pushed herself to her feet quickly, eyeing the creature crawl its way towards her. 

She let it strike first, slashing out with sharp metal fingers, Riley ducked to the left, loosing her arm in a quick jab, catching it across the jaw and sending it reeling to the side, a quick cross with the other hand and the machine tumbled back to the ground with a sharp and echoing clang. When it did, Riley looked up to see two more shuffling their way across the rooftops. 

“Come on man” she sighed, stepping back and dipping her hand into her pocket, and pressing her thumb on the ink pad located there. A quick wipe across her face, along her eyeline and she deemed that it was sufficient enough encase she ran into some unwanted attention. Not that this wasn’t unwanted. Barbarian raised her fists, Fenris growling in her head for blood - not that he was getting any from this fight - and she swung a punch at one of the approaching machines.

It was good fun, until the enemies she had put down, ripped apart, started to reassemble. Conglomerations of metal, welding themselves together like some sort of messed up surgeon. Barbarian stepped back, watching an awed horror as a metal husk grabbed a discarded arm from the ground, dented and bent the wrong way, and smashed it into it's empty shoulder socket. The arm wasn't even originally from that mech and was a much darker shade of silver, but she doubted it cared about appearances. Another of the metal monstrosities dragged itself along the ground, a leg bent the wrong way, causing the grinding metal-concrete sound to grow louder as it limped forwards, arms outstretched and a blank look on its metallic face.

It almost made it more unnerving, these things moved towards her with no sound apart from the scraping of metal and clicking of gears. Their footfall made no sound, and they made no effort to vocalise their mission. Just clicks, squeaks and scrapes. The city even seemed quiet, which was always a worry.

Barbarian had already taken a good beating from these things. Fresh bruises littered her skin like freckles, sliced scars were here and there. A well placed punch had left the young woman with a bloody nose and cracked lip. Her head hurt, most likely from being shoved into a wall a few minutes before, and she could hear the faint growls of Fenris in the back of her mind. She didn't look good was the point, Barbarian was sure she wasn't going to win any beauty awards in this state.

"I know I said zombie movies were cool, didn't mean I wanted to live in one!" making the connection between the robots undead-esque movements, and the films she watched as a early teen, Barbarian turned on her heel and started running towards and open gap between buildings. She was in Blüdhaven, as far as she could remember, having crossed the border a few minutes earlier. Ever since the fight in Central City she was moving, it became hard to keep track after a while. These things followed her, even able to recognise her in her civvies, which was never good. She barely turned up on the radar of high class villains, but if someone knew her identity, anyone would want it. Barbarian continued running, vaulting over an exposed air vent and sending a glance back at the crowd. It was moving faster now, chasing her. Where was Nightwing when you needed him? Not that she needed help, but it would be nice to take step back and watch someone else work. Wasn't this his city? Pick up the slack bird brain, there's killer robots in your city!

A rush of wind past her head made Barbarian stop and look at the crumbled concrete ground. One of the mechs heads was dented and laying at her feet. With a confused and accusatory look, the black haired vigilante addressed the moving crowd, her left hand seized, the muscles clenched and complained, leaving her with cramping pain up her arm as her arm morphed to a deep black, sharpening at the end of each finger.

"ok! which one of you fuckers threw that?"

The response was a barrage of thrown metal limbs and body parts. There were six of the creatures now, each with their own collection of injuries and damages, and each finding a part of their kin to throw in her direction. Barbarian dodged a thrown arm, only to get hit across the top of the head with a metal hand. The blow sent her to the ground, couching and blinking, confused. The world started to spin and she realised to late that she was being dragged. Her movements sluggish now, she tried to fight against the creature pulling her to no avail. It took a split second to figure out what was happening. Her blood soaked hands tried and failed to grasp at the lip of the building before she was falling.

Fuck, the ground hurt. Especially when she had hit the metal fire escape on the way down. If Fenris hadn’t been inhabiting her body, she most likely would have died from the fall. 

Groaning as she lay in the bottom of the alleyway, Barbarian, tried to move her arms to support herself, only to cry out in pain from the stabbing feeling in her chest. 

“One broken rib, two cracked”

“Thank you Fenris, that’s so fucking helpful” Barbarian winced, clutching her chest carefully and leaning against the wall as she slowly rose to her feet. Lazily rolling her gaze over where she had landed, she found herself just where she wanted to be, the Zeta tube located just beyond the false wall. It was slow, moving along the wall so she had some support, Riley reached the door, easing it open and slamming it shut behind her. 

The crashing of metal against the door was ignored partially as she drapped herself over the control panel to give her legs a break. 

“god, I need to get a new job” 

“being beat up , not a job” Fenris added helpfully, making Riley scrunch up her nose and let out a long breath. She leaned up, imputing her destination of Starling City into the panel. 

“Just need to get out of here. get to the next city. no issue” each statement showed her growing delirious nature, her words became continually breathier, and more slurred as she stumbled towards the zeta platform, now lit up. 

Her last memory was landing on the platform, and a white light that passed her to her next destination. Remembering nothing afterwards.

**

hope you enjoyed I suppose? I needed something to upload today, so I split up chapter one of DCACB to make this and make the chapters a little shorter. 

cameos of characters and people are open! If you want to be seen in an episode, shoot me an ask.

requests are open! tag list : @silverdecepticon93​ @izzieg3987​  @starr60​ 

[jchb32273]

Fictober 2019 - Day 4

Fanfiction - Dragon Age AO3 Link

Slight trigger warning for language 

I know it’s a bit late... this one turned out a bit longer than the previous days!

Hope you enjoy!

I know you didn’t ask for this

~~~~~

It was 3 pm on Friday and I was glad the weekend was here. I was walking back towards my dorm with Leliana when I heard my name being called.

“Kylara!”

I turned to see Alistair running up to me, looking a bit flustered.

“Hello, Alistair. What’s going on?”

He paused for a moment to catch his breath, then said, “Maric is hosting one of his ‘oh so important dinners’ at his house tonight… and I had almost forgotten about it!”

I blinked a few times. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Ah… well, it is sort of required for me to… bring someone.” He rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. “I know it’s last minute… and I totally understand if you have other plans…”

“Of course she’d love to go,” Leliana piped up as she elbowed me in the ribs. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, um… I guess?” My cheeks were pink. “I mean… I don’t… have any other… plans.”

“Great!” He leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. “You are a lifesaver, Kylara! I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?” He then ran off.

I groaned. “Leliana! What have you done?! I don’t have the first clue how to act at one of those type of dinners! I don’t even have anything fancy to wear!”

“Well, it is a good thing I just got my paycheck! Let’s go shopping!”

Two hours later, we were back in our dorm room with several bags worth of items. Leli had dragged me from store to store to look at dresses, shoes, undergarments (to my utter embarrassment), and makeup. After making all the purchases, I blanched at what she’d just spent on me.

“How am I going to pay you back for all this, Leliana! This is so much stuff!”

“Don’t worry about that now! You have a date we must get you ready for!! Oh, this is SO exciting!” She unwrapped the burgundy satin dress from the thin, clear plastic bag the salesclerk had wrapped it in. “You and Alistair have become quite close, no?” She giggled. “And to think you didn’t want to go to that party two months ago! Now, look at you!”

“I have only seen him a handful of times since the party. We are… friends. Sort of… Nothing more!”

“Friends, hmm?” She gave me a sly smile. “Well, I happened to hear from Morrigan, who got it from Fenris, who was told directly from Bull, that you were alone at his place about two weeks ago? Hmm? You also came back into our room quite late that same night, if I remember correctly.”

“I was there to study for my biochemistry test… and then he took me out to dinner afterwards.”

“Ooh! Dinner?! I bet it was really romantic! Alistair just strikes me as that type of man…”

I thought back to that night. What had started as a simple study session, then ended with a stupid fight (that I had started) over grilled cheese sandwiches… After helping Alistair put out a fire in his condo, he had taken me to a very romantic restaurant. It was completely innocent though, my inner-voice justified. Just cheese fondue… and wine… My cheeks felt hot. “I think I should just get ready,” I mumbled.

“Yes, yes,” Leliana gushed. “We have much to do to get you beautiful!”

After a half-hour practicing walking in the high heeled shoes Leli has insisted on, I was not falling down anymore… but I was still wobbling quite a bit.

“Do I have to wear these ridiculous shoes? I am going to make a fool of myself, I just know it!”

“But all you have are sneakers, Kylara! You can’t wear sneakers with a gown!” she admonished.

“Don’t you have any flats I can wear?”

“I wear a size smaller than you, Kylara, so I don’t think that would work.” She sighed. “Look, once you are in the house, you will probably be sitting down to eat. You’ll be fine!” She glanced at her watch. “Look, it’s almost seven. Let’s get out to the lobby of the dorm.

Heads turned as I walked (wobbled) out into the dorm common room. I heard people talking behind my back. Most of the whispers had people wondering what I was so dressed up for, and there were several cruel comments about my pale skin and chubby body.

“Ignore them,” Leliana said as she saw me taking a slight step backwards. “I think you look lovely.”

Just then, the front door opened and Alistair walked in dressed in a full, form-fitting tuxedo.

Maker’s Breath but he is stunning!

My knees were shaking and I was sure my face was bright red. Alistair saw Leli and me and walked over to us, a huge smile on his face.

“Kylara, you look… beautiful.”

Now the comments behind me took on an angrier tone.

What is she doing with him?

How did that fat geek get a date with the single most handsome man in Denerim?!

What the fuck does he see in her?

She’s gotta be sleeping with him, otherwise, why would he bother?

Alistair must have heard a few of these comments because he glared around the room and all grew quiet. Smiling at me again, he took my arm into his and said, “I’ll take it from here, Leliana. Thank you.”

“Have fun, you two!” Leli grinned and blew kisses at us both.

We walked outside the dorm and a blast of cold winter air hit me. “Oh, it’s freezing out here! I don’t have a coat!”

“Don’t worry,” Alistair said. “The car is right here and the heater is already on.”

I glanced up to see a stretch limo parked on the street and my mouth gaped open. As soon as he saw us, the driver quickly got out and opened the door for us.

“Thanks, Blackwall.” Alistair assisted me in the car, then slid in beside me. Blackwall shut the door, then got behind the wheel.

“Y-you hired a limousine for tonight?” I squeaked out.

Alistair smirked. “No, it’s Maric’s car. I would have driven my own, but he’s all about impressing people at these dinners… so he insisted I use the limo to come and pick you up.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage to say. “Ah, what does he know about me?”

“I haven’t had the time to tell him much. He knows that you are a year behind me and that you go to the same school. I also told him you are very smart and pretty.”

I looked down at the floor of the car. “Alistair, I am not pretty.”

He turned in the butter-soft leather seat to face me, then used his fingers to gently tilt my head back up. “Yes, you are. You should stop doubting yourself.” He smiled at me. “Is that a new dress?”

“Um… yes. Leli took me shopping after you… invited me.”

“The color is striking on you. I noticed right away when I picked you up tonight. However, we might want to…” He reached up and gave a tug on something on the shoulder strap. I heard a muffled snap and then he held out the price tag of the dress to me.

Mortified, I took the tag and quickly stuffed it into the handbag that Leli had loaned me for tonight.

Alistair put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Don’t fret over it, Kylara. Stuff like that happens more often than you think, even amongst the wealthy.”

Perhaps, I thought bitterly. But I am sure they pay a lot more than 75 sovereigns for a dress.

Just then the limo pulled up to a massive mansion. Nauseous butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Ohh… what have I gotten myself into?! Blackwall opened the door and Alistair exited first, then held out his hand to me… an encouraging smile on his face.

I carefully stepped out of the limo, but my ankle wobbled in the heels again and I stumbled a bit. Alistair quickly scooped his arm around my waist and steadied me. I saw what I assumed to be disapproving frowns on other dinner guests who were slowly making their way to the front doors of the mansion, and my face flamed red again.

“Come on now,” Alistair linked his arm with mine. “Let’s head on in.”

At the front doors, there was a huge qunari standing there, nodding and greeting guests as they arrived. He didn’t have horns on his head like Bull, but he still looked very stern and serious.

“Evening Sten,” Alistair greeted him.

Sten nodded once and then said, “Your father is waiting for you in his study. I was told to tell you to report to him as soon as you arrived.”

“Very well, thank you.”

Sten nodded once again and then turned to face the next arriving guests.

Alistair took a deep breath, then said, “Well, let’s get this over with.”

At the study doors, Alistair knocked once, then twice. The doors were opened by a very handsome, tall, blond-haired man. His blue eyes twinkled. He quickly grabbed Alistair’s hand, pulled him into a quick bear-hug, and gave him a thump on the back.

“Al, you little devil. How are you this evening!”

Alistair gave a half-smile. “Cailan.” He then took my hand and led me up to his half-brother. “May I present my half-brother, Cailan. Cailan may I introduce my companion for the evening, Kylara Amell.”

“Pleasure to meet you, young lady,” Cailan said with a wide grin as he shook my hand. “Though I’ll admit, Al hasn’t said much about you. How long have you been together?”

“Oh… um… We aren’t. Together, I mean. We’re just friends… from school.”

“Just friends?” Cailan eyed Alistair with curiosity. “I was sure that after the incident with Ellie Cousland that you’d get right back into- ”

Alistair shook his head. “Now isn’t the time to discuss that, Cailan. Please, just drop it.”

Another set of doors in the office then opened and another tall, blond-haired man strode out – though his hair was greying at the temples. The air of authority he had around him made me take a few steps behind Alistair for protection.

“Then when will be the time, son?”

“Maric.”

Maric immediately frowned and I saw Alistair wince. “I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me by my given name.”

“Fine…” Alistair gritted out. “Father.”

“That’s better.” Maric then looked behind Alistair, where I was trying not to cower, but failing. “And who is this young lady here? Is she the one you told me about this afternoon?”

“Yes… father. This is my companion for this evening, Kylara Amell.” He gently tugged my hand to bring me closer. “Kylara, may I present my father, Maric Theirin.”

Maric took my hand and gave it a squeeze. His eyes raked coolly over me and in that moment I knew I had been judged… and deemed unworthy. He let go of my hand and then said without looking at me a second time said, “Nice to meet you.” He then gave what I figured to be a curious glance at Alistair before quickly changing the subject. “There are a lot of influential people here tonight, Alistair. I hope you make the most of it and greet them all.”

I saw Alistair give a faint nod. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, let’s all head down for cocktails. Dinner will be at 8:30 sharp.”

Maric quickly strode off. Cailan followed but briefly turned around to me. “Nice to have met you, Miss Kylara. Do enjoy yourself this evening.” He then turned back and jogged a few steps to catch up to his father.

Alistair sagged slightly against the nearby wall.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He took a quick breath, stood back up straight and muttered, “Fine. Just dandy.” He caught my concerned look and then gave a weak smile. “Come,” he said and took my arm. “I think I could use a good stiff drink right about now.”

Back downstairs, the bartender asked what I’d like.

“Sex on the Beach,” I said quickly.

“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed.

Alistair chuckled. “Ah, how about a Sidecar for the lady, and I’ll take a Whiskey Sour.”

“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.”

Our drinks were quickly made and handed to us. Alistair then gently led me away from the bar. I took a sip of what he ordered for me. It wasn’t too bad. Then I glanced up at him. “Did I do something wrong back there?”

He smiled and said, “This isn’t like a club or a college bar, so a lot of drinks you may be used to aren’t going to be available. Mar- ” he paused for a brief second. “My… father… only carries the high-end spirits and liquors.” He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “I don’t think Maric would know what Peach Schnapps was if it came and bit him in the ass.”

I giggled at his comment but quickly stopped when I saw disapproving stares from some of the other guests.

Alistair lead me around the room as people mingled and chatted quietly. He gently pointed out several high profile people.

“That man over there,” he indicated a dwarf with a very hairy chest and wearing gold chains on his neck, “is Varric Tethras. He is an accomplished author renowned throughout Thedas. Most of his stories concern themselves with outcasts and tragic mistakes. Have you read any of his books?”

I shook my head, but said, “I know Leliana has both ‘Hard in Hightown’ and ‘Swords and Shields’. Maybe I’ll borrow them from her now.”

“Over there,” he carefully pointed at a stern woman with cropped black hair and a scar on her left cheek, “is Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast.”

“So many names?” I commented quietly.

“She is, or was Nevarran royalty. Now she is Right Hand of the Divine and Seeker for the Chantry.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t really sure what all of that meant, so I just nodded slightly.

Alistair also pointed out both Empress Celene and Duke Gaspard, both from Orlais, and the Prime Minister herself, Anora.

So many powerful people in the room, my head began to spin. So many things I could possibly say or do that could easily offend any one of these people. My legs began to tremble. I really don’t belong here…

Alistair noticed my discomfort. “Are you all right, Kylara? You look a bit pale.”

“I… I think I just need to sit down… for a bit.”

He nodded and began escorting me to some chairs in the corner of the room. Just then, a thin, tanned elf with blond hair tied back in a queue came up to us.

“Zevran,” Alistair said with mild surprise. “I thought your business with Maric had been completed already.”

Zevran gave an oily smile. “What can I say? My services are apparently in high demand.” His eyes then drifted over me. “Ah, and who is your charming companion this evening?”

Keeping one arm around my waist to hold me steady, he quietly said, “This is Kylara. Kylara, Zevran is a… business associate… of my father’s.”

Zevran picked up my hand and kissed it, though his eyes didn’t leave my face. “Zevran Arainai, at your service, dulce doncella.”

His accent had me curious. “Where are you from, Mr. Arainai?”

He flashed a bright grin at me. “Oh, no Mr. Arainai. That is far too formal for me, yes? Just call me… Zev.”

“Zev?”

Alistair quickly spoke up. “Zevran will be just fine.”

Zevran gave a short laugh. “As you wish. As for your earlier question, I hail from Antiva. Antiva City, to be precise.”

My mouth formed a small ‘o’, then I asked, “Isn’t that the country that has that secretive organization, The Crows?”

Zevran’s eyes glinted, “Oh? And what exactly do you know of such things?”

Alistair stepped in. “Probably nothing more than what local tabloids and gossip magazines have spread, right, Kylara?” He gave my waist a slight squeeze, but I saw Zevran’s eyes dart down and then back up to us.

“Uh… y-yes. Just gossip magazines,” I mumbled.

“I see.” Zevran’s lips were thin, but one corner curled mischievously. “It was nice to have met you, Kylara. Alistair? Give your father my regards.” He bowed once, then left us.

Alistair let out a soft breath. Making sure that Zevran was out of earshot, he then muttered, “I really don’t trust him.”

As we continued our way to the chairs, I trembled again. “I made another mistake, didn’t I?”

We sat down together on a small setteé. “There are rumors,” he began, speaking very softly, “that Zevran is a high ranking person in The Crows.”

Aghast, I whispered, “They don’t really assassinate people anymore… do they?”

“I don’t know. But I would definitely not mention it any more this night.”

Fearfully, I nodded.

“I am going to get us another drink. Will you be all right here by yourself?”

“I… should be.” Alistair got up, but I caught his wrist. “Please, hurry back, okay?”

He smiled and nodded, then left.

Suddenly, Zevran reappeared and swiftly sat down next to me. I tried to remember to breathe.

“You would do well to heed this advice, Kylara.” The way he said my name gave me chills. “You are out of your league here. You should go back to your dorm and put any more thoughts about Alistair Theirin out of your pretty little head. He is not for you.”

Trembling, I managed to stutter out, “W-we’re just fr-friends. That’s all.”

Zevran put his arm around my shoulders and leaned in closer. “Ah, but you see, that is just the thing. Friends can become much more. So were I you, I’d find some reason to tell him you are no longer interested in being ‘friends’… or better yet, perhaps you should consider changing schools, yes?” He got up, graceful and fluid, then before my eyes, vanished into the shadows.

I glanced all around the room. No one else had apparently seen this. Had I just imagined that whole scenario? I then noticed I was clenching something in my hand. I carefully opened it… to reveal a tiny origami crow.

Alistair returned shortly and handed me a large glass of red wine. After the scenario with Zevran and finding the tiny paper crow, I had stuffed it into the crevice of the setteé. I took a few deep calming breaths to try and settle my jangling nerves. Can’t let him know that anything is amiss. Just need to get through the rest of this evening… then I can work out what I will do.

“You are doing better?” he asked.

I took a sip of the wine and replied, “I’m fine.”

“Well, that is good.” He held out his hand and helped me to stand. “Come now, it is time for dinner.”

Dinner was an utter disaster. For one thing, I wasn’t seated next to Alistair, but all the way at the opposite end of the table. I could barely see him at the far end, seated near Maric and Cailan. Secondly, I looked at the place settings and wondered why there were so many utensils on the table.

I grabbed a piece of bread out of a basket and began nibbling on it, trying to calm myself again, only to get frowns of disapproval from the high-end guests seated near me. It was then that I noticed that no one was eating anything yet. They were patiently waiting for Maric to begin.

I tried to slowly set the roll back on my plate but accidentally dropped it. It bounced off my lap and onto the floor somewhere under my chair.

A few moments later, the first dish was now being served. A covered plate was placed in front of me and then opened to reveal some type of shellfish, still in its shell, with a green sauce covering it. I grabbed the nearest fork to me and stabbed it into the shell, not realizing that they were all sitting on a bed of coarse salt. Salt granules scattered off of my plate and went all over the table.

“What do you think you are doing?” It was the woman Alistair had introduced as Cassandra. Her Nevarran accent thick, she scowled. “Have you no manners?!”

Mortified, I put the big fork down, then realized that all the guests were using the smallest fork that had been at the end of the lineup of utensils. I murmured quietly, “I-I’ve just never been to a dinner… such as this.”

Her voice dripped with disdain. “That much is obvious.”

I wanted to vanish, but instead decided I’d be better off just trying to get this meal over with as soon as possible. I picked up the delicate fork and this time carefully pierced the meat. I had never eaten anything like it before, but since everyone else seemed to be enjoying it, I figured I should at least try it. It tasted salty and rich. I chewed carefully then swallowed. Deciding I didn’t care for it, I set the tiny fork down and decided to wait for the next course.

Several minutes later the shellfish plates were cleared and the next covered dish was set in front of me. The lid was lifted and what I saw made me blanch. It was clearly raw meat, and on top of that was a tiny uncooked egg yolk.

“Um…” I tugged on the sleeve of one of the men serving. “I think my dish wasn’t cooked?”

“Mademoiselle, that is steak tartare. It is supposed to be raw.”

Raw fish I could handle, as I loved sushi… but raw beef? My stomach churned. As the other guests were eating the meal and I saw the egg yolk running down the plate, I knew it was too much. I quickly got up, but in my haste, I knocked over my wine glass.

“My dress!” Cassandra cried. “You clumsy girl!”

I could take no more. I stumbled away from the table. My high heel pierced the dinner roll that had been under my chair, causing me to trip. But I managed to get away and to the bathroom before I vomited on the floor.

From the other end of the table, Alistair saw what had happened and tried to get up.

“Sit… down,” Maric commanded.

“But… I need to see if she is all right.”

“You don’t need to do anything but stay right here.”

Alistair glared at his father. He put his napkin down, pushed his chair back and stood up. “Please accept my apologies, everyone,” he said crisply to the guests. Then he got up and walked off.

I heard a knock on the bathroom door. From outside Alistair spoke, “Kylara? Are you all right?” There was a pause and then, “May I come in?”

Weakly, I replied, “Yes.”

The door opened slowly and Alistair walked in. He saw me sitting on the floor of the bathroom. Red splotches covered my skin.

Alistair knelt down next to me. “Oh! W-what happened!”

“I… I think I am allergic to whatever that shellfish was.”

“Oysters. They were oysters.” He held my hand. “Will you be okay?” “I think so… I only ate one.” I didn’t mention that I had thrown it up. “I have antihistamines back at the dorm.”

He stood up and then helped me up. “Let’s get you back home then.”

We rode back to the college in the limo in silence, then I finally said, “I’m sorry I ruined your fancy dinner.”

“You didn’t ruin it. After we left, I am sure that they continued on as if nothing had even happened.”

“But… I ruined Cassandra’s dress. She will probably insist I buy her a new one!”

“No. She won’t. I’m sure Maric will have already taken care of it.”

I held back a sob. “Your father doesn’t like me, does he?”

Alistair scoffed. “Maric doesn’t like anyone much. Don’t worry about what he thinks. I still like you, Kylara. Very much.”

I turned to look at the scenery blurring by the limo windows. I wiped a tear off of my cheek. “Why?” I asked quietly, “What is so special about me?”

“You are not like any other girl I have ever known. You are quiet, sweet, smart. You are also fiery, passionate about what you believe in…”

I smiled a little, even as another tear fell. “Even when I argue about the perfect grilled cheese?”

He chuckled. “Especially then.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “I want to continue being your friend.”

I thought back to what had happened with Zevran and the threat he had delivered. I shivered. “I… I don’t think it is a good idea, Alistair.”

“What? Why?” He sounded surprised… and a little hurt.

“I know you didn’t ask for this, but you were born into privilege… and with that comes specific obligations.” I let out a sigh. “I am not like the people who were there at the party tonight. I made a fool of myself in front of them all. We are two very different individuals, Alistair… and I don’t belong.” My chest felt heavy. “Not with them… and not with you.”

The limo pulled to a stop outside of my dorm. Without waiting for Blackwall to open it, I got out and began slowly walking to the side entrance to the dorm. I didn’t want to face anyone who might still be in the lobby. Suddenly my ankle wobbled and I fell to my knees. “Curse these fucking shoes!” I took them off and threw them into a nearby bush. Then I began to cry.

A moment later, I felt Alistair place his tux jacket on my shoulders. “Come on now, Kylara. Let me help you up.” Weakly, I accepted his hands as he pulled me to my feet. He walked me to the door, then finally asked, “Kylara, please. I know you think we have nothing in common, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I will give you some space for the moment, but I hope that you will reconsider.” He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Give me a call or text whenever you feel ready, all right?”

I could only nod in silence. I then scanned my student id on the door panel and walked into the building. The lights were off in the hallway and when the glass door closed, I could see Alistair standing there with his hand on the door. Then he turned and slowly walked away with his shoulders slumped.

Fortunately, Leli was not in our room to cross-examine me about tonight. I sat down on the edge of my bed and it was then that I realized I still had Alistair’s tux jacket on my shoulders. I carefully took it off and then cradled it in my arms. When I held it up, I could smell his scent on it. I held it close to my nose and inhaled, then hugged it to my chest as fresh tears began to fall.

[pb1138]

A Reunion, Ch3

Chapter 3 of my Hawke x Varric fic.  Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

“That bastard. I’m going to kill him.” Hawke seethed with anger as she read over the will, and Varric cast Fenris a furtive glance.

“What does it say?” Ah, Carver. Ever the genius.

She clenched the paper in her hands and ground her teeth as she stood. “Mother got it all. Every single copper. And Gamlen spent it all.”

Carver shrugged. “And? What are you getting so worked up about?”

Fenris took a step back, eyes going wide. A line had been crossed, and everyone except Carver knew it.

Her voice was eerily calm as she spoke, but each word came with more venom than the last. “And? Oh, and nothing, I suppose. A family fortune, wasted in the span of 20 years. That’s nothing to get upset about, you’re quite right. Nevermind that the reason we just wasted an entire year of our lives in indentured servitude because of Gamlen’s incompetence. The estate and the money meant to provide us security in this rathole of a city, who needs it? Nevermind we live in a three room hovel, sharing a triple-decker bunkbed with our mother. I quite enjoy listening to her night terrors, don’t you? Nevermind our mother has nothing left of her parents or her life before us. So, no, Carver. You’re quite right.” An eerie and sarcastic grin spread across her face. “There’s nothing here to get worked up about. Nothing at all.”

By some miracle, Carver seemed to recognize that if he were to speak now, it would be disastrous, so instead he just looked away. Hawke ground her teeth some more as she cast the will one more look-over. Shaking her head, she scoffed and stuffed the paper into her sack. “Let’s just go. Mother will want to see this.”

Xxx

“…I’m just saying, blood’s blood and all but you are taking advantage of my hospitality. It’s only fair if you make something of a…monthly contribution.”

Hawke was positively vibrating with anger as she opened the door to Gamlen’s hovel. Varric reached over to put his arm in front of Fenris to prevent him from following the humans inside, which the elf seemed to agree was a bad idea. Instead, the two men leaned against the wall on either side of the door, listening intently.

“You sold my children into servitude! Now you’re asking me to pay rent?” Varric smirked slightly. It wasn’t difficult to see where Hawke got her fire from. Leandra may be a small woman, but Andraste’s tits if she weren’t a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be.

“Uh. Maybe just put something towards food?” Maker’s breath, Gamlen was pathetic. Simpering and weak, backing down from the challenge as always. Varric felt deeply for Hawke having to put up with his shit for so long.

Hawke’s voice carried through, menacing and fierce. “We found the will.”

Carver butted in, his tone sounding as though he had been angered by the discovery all along. “Grandfather left everything to Mother and us. I guess he had some sense after all. See for yourself.”

Leandra read a few lines from the will and trailed off, as though accusing Gamlen of his crime.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re the one who ran away, Leandra!” Varric’s eyebrows shot up, and he cast Fenris an incredulous look, mouth slightly agape. Fenris seemed equally surprised, and the two of them leaned in further to better hear. Gamlen went off on a rant, the standard younger-sibling tripe that Carver often used against Hawke. The air around them was getting colder, indicating the depth of anger Belladonna was feeling. He trailed off with a simpering, “How long was I supposed to wait?”

They both waited on bated breath. “You’ll spend the rest of your life paying my mother back for everything you stole.” It wasn’t a request.

“Andraste’s ass I will!” Varric half expected Gamlen to be tossed through the door onto his ass. It’s not as though he didn’t deserve it. Instead, Leandra surprised them all, absolving him of basically all responsibility. After all that, Gamlen was off the hook.

After a long moment, Hawke threw the door open and stalked through, small sparks of electricity dancing around her clenched fists. She didn’t wait for her friends to follow her as she prowled away. Fenris gaped at Varric for a moment, but the two of them went running after her. Hawke maneuvered her way through the streets, straight to the Hanged Man. Once inside, she bee-lined straight for the bar where she reached over and took an entire serving jug of ale from below the bar. Taking a giant swig from it, she stormed her way up to Varric’s quarters. The two men followed her inside, a little breathless from the chase, and Fenris followed her obligingly. Varric paused just long enough to slip over to Corff and pass him a small bag of coins in payment.

“The nerve! I mean really? He spends it all, every single copper given to her from my grandparents, and then he has the audacity to try to extort more from my poor mother?” She scoffed, pacing around the length of the room, gesticulating wildly with sparking hands as she ranted. Varric and Fenris took seats at the table, watching as she let the steam out. After a good long half hour, she slumped down in a chair and took another long swig of the ale. “I just. I can’t believe him. Nor Mother, for letting him off like that. If it were up to me…” She trailed off, pursing her lips and clenching a fist in agitation before taking another swig from the jug. Neither of her companions knew what to say, so instead they settled for letting her catch her breath. She let out a sigh and smiled weakly at them. “I’m sorry, guys. I don’t mean to burden you with my shit.”

Varric chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “Hey, what’s a night with Hawke without a little drama?”

The three of them shared a laugh and began talking again. Before long, Isabela and Anders made their way to the table to share in Varric’s generous purse and listen to each other’s’ tales over a few rounds of Wicked Grace. They were enthralled by one of Isabela’s exploits on the high seas when there was a knock at the door. Hawke looked up and waved, a big, drunken grin plastered on her face. “Hello, Lord Carver,” she called.

He sat down across from her, but Varric could see he wasn’t having it. “We’re still a long way from cowing templars with our titles, Sister.”

Hawke’s teasing expression faded into something Varric could only describe as “annoyed.” Eyes narrowing, she lowered her mug, but he could see how hard she was working to keep her expression calm and level. Despite the near-success of not showing her emotions on her face, her words came with more venom than he was sure she’d anticipated. “We took a big step with this. You should respect it.”

“Right, right, the glorious Amells, a noble lineage dating to the third blight. You know what that means. 700 years of people sitting around saying, ‘Wow, look how great we used to be!’ Mother didn’t even want that life back until we got dumped here. And you only care because we’re under templar scrutiny.”

The conversation around the table fell silent. Varric’s eyes went wide, and he could practically feel the anger rolling off of Hawke. A few of the others seemed uncomfortable by the growing tension, not without reason. Fenris and Isabela shared a nervous glance. “The second child act is getting pretty stale, Brother.”

Carver scoffed, the hostility in his own voice rising above his sister’s. “Try it from this side, always running after you or taking care of Mother while you mark your territory.”

Isabela looked as if she were going to say something in Hawke’s defense, but the mage put her hand up to silence her, and the Rivaini shrunk back in her chair. Her jaw twitched before she growled in a menacing tone, “That’s enough, Brother.”

Carver is many things. Strong, brave even, occasionally funny. But smart? Maker’s breath, Varric thought he could count on one hand the number of functioning synapses left in that moron’s brain. Too many blows to the head, he imagined, and it showed when that idiot kept going. “Even back home, what could I be? The lone blade in a house of mages? If I excelled, it would’ve brought too much attention.” He narrowed his eyes. “That was a waste, huh? Could’ve found my fortune if Bethany was going to die on your watch anyway.”

Varric grit his teeth and clenched his fists, the desire to pummel the fool almost too strong to ignore. That was the lowest of blows, even by Kirkwall standards.

Nobody around the table moved for what felt like an eternity, almost too afraid to breathe. They waited until Belladonna spoke, her voice icy hard, sending shivers up Varric’s spine. The air in the room had dropped several degrees, as it had at Gamlen’s house, her anger too strong to control. “You will not use her against me like that. She deserves better.”

“Then you should have given better!” He was on his feet now, glaring her down.

She slammed her sparking fists on the table, rising to meet his glare. “I gave everything! Question me, Mother, yourself, but not that!” A single angry tear slipped down her cheek before she pushed away from the table, nearly spilling a few mugs. She turned and stalked towards the door, growling out a simple, “Good talk.”

“Sister.” She froze at the door but didn’t turn to look at him, the air around her thick with unshed magic. “I feel… I don’t know. It’s like Mother, taking everything out on us. She was just scared. I don’t have a place in the life she is trying to bring back. I’m here if you need me, but I must find my own way.”

Varric heard the small tsk as she sucked on her teeth, probably fighting back some retort. After a short moment, she left, and Carver sat down. Everyone was silent for a long time, and Varric glared at the younger Hawke. Carver seemed to have forgotten they were present because when he remembered they were there, he cringed and tried to direct his attention to his goblet. Noticing Varric’s angry gaze, he scoffed. “What?”

Varric shook his head and pushed away from the table. As he rounded Carver on his way out the door, he let out a small, “You’re a real piece of work kid.” Behind him, he could hear their friends saying similar things, but he didn’t think they were following him.

It wasn’t hard to find her. There were only a handful of places she went in the city, and at this hour, there were only two or three of those she would go without backup. He found her after about an hour, sitting on the stone steps of one of the docks. She’d rolled her pants up and was sitting with her feet in the water. Or ice, as it were. She didn’t even seem to realize she’d frozen it as she stared unblinking at the Gallows.

He cleared his throat as if to announce himself, but she didn’t turn. After a moment, he took his own boots off and joined her on the step, albeit a few feet away where the water was still warm. The moon hung low and large over the peak of the mountain, encasing the area in a soft pale glow that seemed to turn her eyes to stone. He looked up at the looming towers then back at her. “You know, brooding is more the elf’s thing.”

A soft smile tilted the corner of her mouth up, making him grin in response. She glanced at him then, then frowned as if realizing just how far away he was sat. With a start, she looked down at the ice around her legs and cursed beneath her breath. She glanced around them, checking they were alone. With a wave of her hand, the ice melted into steaming water, and he scooted closer so that their arms were nearly touching. They sat there for a while, the waves lapping against the steps rhythmically, the moon glittering against the water. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse, as if she’d been crying. “She would’ve hated it here.”

Varric turned his head to look at her. “Bethany?”

She nodded softly. “Too many templars, too much crime, not enough grass. She would’ve liked to have heard our grandparents didn’t hate us after all but…” She sighed. “I don’t think she would’ve been happy here, at all. I don’t even know if I’ll be happy here. It’s not as though this life were everything I’d dreamed as a kid.”

Varric turned back to watch the water, mulling over what to say. “It must be difficult, things ending up the way they have.”

“It certainly hasn’t been easy on my liver, no.” She chuckled once. “Bethany would have many things to say about that, as well.”

“You’ve never really talked about her before.” Most everything he knew about the girl came from Carver. Belladonna avoided the subject like the plague, and Varric hoped he wasn’t pushing any boundaries by inquiring about her now.  

Belladonna chuckled once, softly. “I haven’t, have I?” She dragged her foot through the water, a slow but intentional stream of electricity following her, sending a blue glow up their legs. “She was…” She struggled to find the words. “She was my best friend. It used to feel like us against the world, featuring Carver the Asshole.” She smiled sadly at a memory before her voice lowered to nearly a whisper, filled with lamentations and regret. “Our father was an apostate, as I’m sure you know. Ran away with our mother. When they had me, I’m told he was over the moon. Didn’t last long, though.”

“How do you mean?” How could anyone not be over the moon about this woman?  

With a sigh, “Our father had been in a Circle most of his life, namely this one. So, he’d prayed and prayed and prayed that his children wouldn’t become mages, that they’d be ‘normal’ and be able to… I don’t know. Have lives? Get married? Have little non-mage children? Shit like that.” Her expression became overcast as she lowered her face. “But I remember. My first spell. I was young, really young. Four or five, I think. We were at the dinner table, and I didn’t want to eat my squash. So I electrocuted it, blew it up. And my father… the look on his face.” She scowled, sitting up straighter, turning away from him. “He was… terrified. Angry. Confused. I don’t even have proper words for it. It was like all his hope for this world just… disappeared before him. He started my ‘lessons’ that day.” She emphasized the word “lessons” with air quotations. “Namely, we focused on how to hide my magic and how to channel it so I didn’t blow myself or the house up. He wasn’t teaching me how to be a powerful mage. He was teaching me how to evade detection, to be ashamed of my powers.” Her voice had begun to crack a little as the memories flooded back. “Then Carver and Bethany came along. He had such hope for them. Maybe two of his children would be normal, would have a shot at a good life. Then, when Bethany was five, Father cut his hand on a piece of farm equipment. Bethany, ever the sweetheart, kissed it, and it healed, and I remember his face so clearly. He wasn’t afraid, wasn’t angry. He was…almost proud.” She clenched her fists where she held them against her arms. “She was brought into our lessons and they changed, drastically. It wasn’t how to hide anymore, it was how to do useful magic, learning theories and histories. Offensive spells, defensive spells, healing spells. Nothing I’d ever spent time learning before. It stopped being so much about the Templars and how to avoid them and more along the lines of how to be a good mage. And she was. A good mage, I mean. A good woman.”

Varric couldn’t help but reach over and put his gloved hand on her arm, giving her a soft look. “That must have been difficult.”

She turned her head to look at her hand on his and smiled faintly. “I resented her at first. I was Father’s mistake, but she was his greatest treasure. It took me a long time to realize he was just dealing with his shitty situation as best he could, trying to keep his girls alive. She was about 10 when we started being good friends. We took to studying together, sharing our thoughts together, going to town together without Father.” She laughed, remembering something. “There was one time, we were going to the bakery. It was all three of us kids, and I was distracted. A Templar had come ‘round the corner, but hadn’t seen us yet, so Bethany pushed Carver into him and tackled me into a bale of hay. That idiot spent the next 15 minutes talking to that poor Templar about The Order and Templar training so Bethany and I could slip away.” She wiped her eyes hard, one hand still under his on her arm. “She loved all of us so dearly. It nearly broke her when Father died, she just wandered around for days in a fog.” After a minute, she took in a shaky breath. “She used to tell me that she wanted to be a part of the Amell family, that we should be nobility, safe in our high castles surrounded by our money and our loving grandparents, a big, happy family. If she’d seen this shit, what we’d been reduced to because of Gamlen…” She shook her head, an angry smile on her face. “I don’t even think there are words for how angry she would’ve been.”

Varric regarded her a moment. The loss was evident in her voice, in her face. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of it. “It sounds as though you cared for her a great deal.”

Nodding, she moved so she was standing and stepped a few steps deeper into the water, letting her fingers drag along the surface. “More than I’ve ever cared for anyone, if I’m honest. When she died…” Her fists clenched by her sides, and she turned her face away from him. “Mother said it was my fault. Carver says it was my fault.” She took in a shuddering breath. “And maybe it was.”

“No!” Varric jumped to his feet and reached for her hand, a fire in his eyes. “You can’t ever think that!”

She scoffed. “I was the one who left Mother’s side. If I’d been there to help Bethany, she wouldn’t have…” Her voice broke and tears began to fall from her eyes. “I wasn’t strong enough, quick enough to save her. I did everything I could and still…”

A fury burst within his chest, not at her but at everyone else in her life who had ever allowed her to feel this way. Belladonna Hawke had only ever been kind and generous, giving her all to those she cared about. How could someone bring her to this? He took a few steps down and reached for her arm. She turned to look at him, the moonlight making her eyes glow like magelight, and his heart shattered at the emotion in them. “You did everything you could have. Nothing you have ever done has ever given me any doubt that you didn’t do everything in your power to save your sister, and I’m sure she knows that, too. Carver is an unmitigated ass.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes seeming to search his for something though he wasn’t sure what. After a few seconds, she nodded weakly and turned into him, taking him in her arms. From their placement on the steps, he was almost as tall as her, and he wound his arms around her waist. Her head went to his shoulder, turned away from his face. “Thank you, Varric.” Her voice was barely audible over the sound of the water, but he nodded none the same.

They stood there for a long second, but not nearly long enough, though neither would admit it. When they parted, she looked down at him with a soft smile before she cleared her throat. “Well. We’d better get to bed. Big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The Deep Roads. Right. Varric smiled in return and nodded towards the city. “Let’s get goin’ then.”

He walked her to her door, a gentleman if ever there were one. A small part of him hoped she might kiss him again, as she had the last time he escorted her home in the wee hours. Not tonight, though. At the door, she bid him a soft spoken, “Good night,” and slipped inside with a smile.

He waited at the door until he heard Oberyn, her mabari, settle back down from his excitement at his master’s return. The road back to the Hanged Man isn’t a long one by any means, but Varric’s legs felt tired as if pulling iron chains behind him that grew heavier with every step.

Every step away from her.

Xxx

The next day was it, the big day. Belladonna was at his door bright and painfully early which in itself told him she hadn’t slept. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never been voluntarily up before the sun hung high overhead. She hadn’t come into his room, but she knocked hard against his doorframe and called into the darkness, “Rise and shine gorgeous!” a cacophony of hungover groans and cursing from fellow patrons following her words like an echo in the mountains.

He himself groaned. “It’s too early, Hawke,” he mumbled into his pillow.

She chuckled, and the sound put a sleepy smile on his face. “Tough, we’ve got to get a move on if we want to set out by midday.” With a sudden flurry of bright sparks in the dark, the candles all around his room burst to light, blinding him as if from the sun, and he cried out.

“Damned magic,” he growled, shoving his head under his pillow. She laughed again, but her footsteps began receding, and he knew she was probably on her way to assert her painfully sunny disposition on Fenris, who was also coming. Varric sighed heavily and contemplated the importance of the mission. Was wealth and fame really worth the agony of being up this early? Grumbling, he heaved himself out of bed and set about getting ready. Maybe not for him, but for her it was. And damned if he wasn’t going to do this for her.

The three of them met up near the Chantry, bags hanging off all shoulders. Fenris looked disgustingly peaceful and well rested this morning, particularly next to Hawke. Her eyes were rimmed with blackish circles from her lack of sleep, her irises even seeming a little dark. Her hair was clean but hadn’t been brushed since her bath so it hung about her shoulders in messy curls. She hadn’t even put makeup on this morning, the strongest indicator that she’d not slept. Vaguely, Varric wondered if she would even be alert enough to do this.

“Where is your brother, Hawke?” Fenris looked expectantly at their leader.

She rubbed her face and shrugged. “I don’t know. I told him to get up before I left, told him where we’d be.”

Varric quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure he got up?”

She scoffed. “I would hope so.” Beaming, she jerked her chin up. “I threw a bucket of water on him.”

The three of them shared a laugh and waited some more. It was nearly an hour later, and Hawke was getting pissed, but finally he came stumbling around the corner, obviously hungover. He stalked over to them and dropped his sacks, glowering at them all. “Sorry I’m late. I had to dry my clothes after someone threw water at me.”

Belladonna snorted. “Maybe don’t be such an asshole all the time and I wouldn’t want to. But enough. Let’s get a move on.”

The three of them walked together into the Merchants’ Guild square. Bartrand was stood at the feet of one of the paragon statues, talking to one of his lackies. Hawke and Varric nodded at each other and left their bags with Fenris and Carver before walking over to him. Varric smooth-talked him into agreeing to let them join the quest, much to Hawke’s delight.

A few minutes later, Bartrand was in the middle of making his grand speech about virginal caves and deflowerings when he trailed off and asked who had brought “the old woman.” Belladonna sighed heavily, running her hand through her hair before joining everyone to look at the Amell. “Maker’s breath,” she whispered.

Leandra smiled apologetically at the dwarf. “My apologies, ser dwarf. I need to speak to my children.”

Carver, fuming, joined Hawke at their mother’s side. “Mother, no. We talked about how important this is.”

“I just want to know one thing—Are you planning on taking Carver with you?” Leandra’s voice was full of worry.

Hawke turned to regard her brother. The anger he held in his stance hadn’t dissipated, and she sighed. “I can’t leave Carver behind. I need him.”

Carver also softened, lowering his shoulders. “I’m going. It will be fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Leandra’s voice was almost cracking as she held back tears. “You can’t both go. What if something were to happen to you? You,” she turned to Hawke, “I understand wanting to do this. But leave your brother here, I beg you.”

“I said I’m going. Besides, if we’re so bloody afraid of Templars (Belladonna sighed,) I should go and she should hide.”

Bartrand, ever the pragmatist, walked over. “Well you’re not gonna be able to take everyone anyhow. You’ll need to decide.”

“It’s Fenris and Carver, like I’d planned.” She smiled at Fenris and Varric. “I need my boys with me.”

Leandra ran over. “Carver, I beg you. Don’t go. Don’t do this!” She was nearly crying now.

He smiled at her and put his hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about me so. I can take care of myself. You’ll see.”

Leandra said no more, leaving them then. Bartrand hurried them along to gather their things, but they paused long enough to say goodbye to their friends who had gathered in the square. Belladonna made sure to hug each of them, kissing both Anders and Isabela on the cheek. She told Aveline to take care of everyone, “especially Merrill,” and hugged the stoic woman a second time, tears in both their eyes.

They set out moments later, eyes alight with the anticipation of the future.

If only they knew what lay ahead, maybe it would’ve been fear, worry, trepidation in their eyes instead.

Xxx

The fires in the Great Hall had begun to die with the late hour. The flickering light from the torch mounted on the wall across from Belladonna cast a darkness over her face. Clearing her throat, she stood from the table and gave Varric a soft smile. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

He looked up at her and returned her smile with a gentility that made Cassandra blush. Taking her hand in his, he brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’ll be there shortly,” he whispered.

She leaned down and kissed his head before sauntering off, casting Cassandra a wary glance as she did.

Cassandra and Varric watched her go. After she disappeared through a door, Cassandra set her palm in her hand. “I understand now why you lied.”

Varric turned back to her, his eyes hardened. “Do you now?”

She looked back at the door the Champion had passed through. “You love her, that much is obvious. You were protecting her. From me, the Chantry, all of it. In your shoes, I might have done the same.”

Varric regarded her a moment before nodding. “You’re not mad then, I take it?”

She had to consider it a moment. “I am conflicted. If you had given her to us, things might be quite different. Though that is not necessarily a good thing, I suppose.” She sighed. “Things are how they are. I must accept it and move on.”

Varric stood with a nod. “I’m glad you see it my way, Seeker. If you’ll excuse me, it’s late, and I have a beautiful woman in my bed.”

She blushed furiously but nodded. “Would you tell me the rest of the story later?”

He smiled with an affection that surprised her. “Of course, Seeker. Good night.”

She watched him go, and as the door shut with a quietly echoing thud, she sighed, “Good night, Varric.”

[court-of-abs]

“Maybe Tomorrow” (Elorcan Fanfic) [Chapter 5]

Hey! Only two days late this time (Shhhhhh I know I technically promised last Saturday, but I promised Tuesday after my first delay so we’re going with two days late to make myself feel better, Ok? thanks lovelies) I’ve tagged everyone who has requested to be tagged below, and if you’re not on this list, and want to be, just comment on this post! I know my releases are sporadic and extremely late most of the time, so having me tag you may just be the best way to keep up with everything (or you can always turn your post notifications on for me. Either way, I’m not complaining ;) ). ENJOY DUCKLINGS!

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Tag List: 

@bibliophileinnightcourt @colbelike @bluephoenix222 @zorpher @high-lady-of-perranth @addled

“Good work today boys” Mr. A said, blowing his whistle to signal the end of practice. Lorcan hastily walked away from the group huddle, grabbed a towel off the bleacher railing, and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he made his way towards the locker room. It hadn’t been good work today, at least not for Lorcan. He’d been slow, careless. He’d messed up more plays in a single practice than he had in his entire football career, or at least it seemed that way.

It also seemed that the new quarterback wasn’t particularly fond of Lorcan and had made it a point to avoid passing to him at all costs. Lorcan wasn’t particularly fond of him either.

At least not since-

“Lorcan!” Fenrys called from behind him, causing Lorcan to turn his head. Fenrys and Connal jogged right up to him, slowing down once they had reached his side. “You ready for tonight?”

Fenrys, who, Lorcan realized, felt the need to be shirtless in just about every situation, was currently using his jersey to wipe off the sweat from his face.

“What’s tonight?” Lorcan asked, shaking his head at Fenrys’ choice of attire.

“Lorcan, you’ve forgotten already?” Fenrys said. He pushed his hair, which was free from its usual top knot, out of his face and swung an arm around Lorcan’s shoulder, or, tried to at least. Lorcan had almost a foot on him, on both of the twins. Lorcan shrugged it off immediately. “I swear just this monday you were complaining the black eye I gave you would prevent your future, hmm, how would you say it Connal?”

Fenrys looked past Lorcan to gain his brother’s attention on the other side of him. Connal let a slight smile play on his lips as he rolled his eyes and turned towards Fenrys. “Prospects?” he asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yes, prospects.” Fenrys said, sending a look of pure mischief right towards Lorcan. “And would you look at it now, there’s barely any bruising left around your eye crybaby.”

Lorcan, stifling the urge to snap right back at Fenrys, groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “God, that fucking party.”

Connal chuckled.

“Yes, that’s the one” Fenrys said, a smile dancing on his lips.

Connal looked up at both of them, his eyes darting away to avoid both of their gazes. “Are you sure we should go? You know it’s at Aelin’s house this ye-”

“Maeve says we’re going, we’re going” Lorcan said, pinning Connal with a look that had him hanging his head again in an instant.

Fenrys chuckled. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll make sure the fire breathing bitch doesn’t burn you.” Lorcan let a smile form on his lips, but Connal only shrugged and kept his head down.

They had reached the locker rooms at this point, and Connal walked straight into the locker room without even noticing that his two companions had strayed just outside the entrance.

“Does Maeve have a game plan yet?” Lorcan asked, grabbing Fenrys’ shoulder and preventing him from entering the locker room. It pained him to ask, he hated when people, and Fenrys of all people, knew something he didn’t. But he swallowed his pride, as difficult as it was, and continued anyway. “I know she wouldn’t just show up to Aelin’s house without a plan.”

Fenrys’ face scrunched up in confusion, “Not that I’m aware of. And besides,” Fenrys continued on, his brows furring deeper, “wouldn’t she tell you first? You’re her second, as she likes to say.” Fenrys’ eyes relaxed and a smile grew on his lips once more. He was all Cheshire cat as he said “ And given that you are completely and utterly in-”

Lorcan grabbed Fenrys’ by the shoulders and shoved him up against the side of locker room entrance, lifting him off the ground and leaning in so close that he could smell that horrid cologne Fenrys always had, trailing him everywhere. Not even a damn workout could cover up the stench.

“What were you going to say?” Lorcan’s voice was so low and so guttural that every word sounded like a growl. It was almost indecipherable.

“What?” Fenrys said, clenching his jaw and fighting against Lorcan’s grip. “Worried Connal will hear? Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t mind if you get with her instead. He can’t stand her half the time any-” Lorcan bared his teeth at Fenrys, silencing him in an instance.

“What ever revelations you think that you’ve made, boyo, keep them to yourself” and with that Lorcan dropped Fenrys onto the ground. Fenrys rolled his shoulders, rubbing along the skin that Lorcan had been pushing up against just moments before.

Just then, the rest of the football team began walking into the locker room. Some turned towards Fenrys and Lorcan and gave them a low whistle or a quick wink before laughing to themselves and entering the lockers. Lorcan only realized just now how close they were, him towering over Fenrys, and Fenrys a mere inches from his face. Fenrys’ constant mischievous glare returned, and he merely winked at Lorcan as he sauntered away and high-fived one of the teammates, following them into the locker room.

Lorcan ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh. Was he really that obvious? He couldn’t be. Fenrys was just observant, always had been. It was one of the reasons Maeve had brought him into their group.

It may also have been the reason she took him into her bed, as well as her brother.

But Lorcan could barely string two thoughts together at the moment, could barely even comprehend what this could mean for him now that Fenrys, and possibly others, knew how he felt.

Did Maeve know how he felt?

Lorcan turned towards the locker rooms and was met with two piercing green orbs, two pine-green eyes.

Rowan Whitethorn.

The two did nothing, just starred, both refusing to back down. Both refusing to look away.

But Lorcan, Lorcan was done with thinking right now. So he stormed right past Rowan and his “#3” Quarterback jersey, and went into the locker room.

“You stole a book?! And you’ve kept it for nearly A WEEK!” Aelin exclaimed, her jaw practically touching the floor as she gaped at Elide and pointed an accusatory flat iron towards her.

“Well, no, I mean I’m gonna give it back” Elide said, her voice small despite the urge to laugh at Aelin’s outburst. “The library was about to close and I was so tired that I just walked out with it. I accidentally shoved it in my bag as I was getting up to leave.”

Lysandra’s eyebrows shot up and she started laughing at Elide almost immediately after her confession. Manon, the ever heartless Manon, even had a small smile on her lips as she scrolled through her phone.

“You are going to give that back, today” Aelin said, waving her flat iron at Elide as she did so. Lysandra had yet to cease laughing, and Aelin only rolled her eyes at her friend before turning her attention back to Elide.

“I know, I’ll go right now” Elide said, already sliding off Aelin’s bed and making her way across the bright pink carpet and towards the bedroom door.

Lysandra, currently lounging over Aelin’s purple bean bag, shot out her leg, a gleaming black heel adding an extra extension, and stopped Elide from exiting. “No you don’t, the party is in less than an hour, and you’re not done getting ready.”

Elide swallowed. “But I-”

“Lysandra she stole a book. A-” Aelin, still using her flat iron as a pointer, gestured to the overpacked bookshelves lining the wall across from the bedroom door, “BOOK.”

Lysandra only raised her eyebrows at Aelin, refusing to back down. “She’ll return it tomorrow.” Lysandra raised her eyebrow further to accentuate her point.

“We’re doing campaign planning tomorrow” Manon interjected cooly, her gaze still locked on her phone. It was the first comment she’d made all afternoon.

“Then she’ll return it sunday.” Lysandra said.

“Library is closed sunday too.”

“Since when?”

“Since labor day weekend existed.”

“Well then she’ll return it monday.”

“Monday is labor day.”

“Tuesday then.”

“Tuesday we’re campaigning after school, unless her majesty” Manon side-glanced at Aelin, “decides to change that last minute too.” Elide could of sworn Aelin grinned at herself in the mirror as she continued straightening her hair.

“Wednesday, then, she’ll return it wednesday.”

“Wednesday is-”

“She’ll return it the next freaking time she goes to the library” Lysandra yelled, groaning loudly, plopping back into the bean bag chair, and throwing an arm over her face.

Aelin covered her mouth with her free hand, stifling a laugh the best she could. Manon let another smile creep onto her lips. Elide made a silent note to not try and best Manon. Maybe she just shouldn’t even try to talk to Manon.

“You little shits will be the death of me” Lysandra mumbled out, throwing her other arm over her face. Aelin still looked on the verge of laughing, but she turned back towards her vanity mirror and continued straightening her hair.

“Why are your parents not here tonight?” Elide asked, curiosity coming over here.

“Some farewell dinner for my father, I think. It’s his last term and all, and they wanted to do it now before the election gets even more heated than it is.” Aelin said, her focus still on her hair.

“I think my uncle’s going to that” Elide said, more to herself than to Aelin. But she knew Aelin had heard her.

“Manon” Aelin said, watching her reflection as she brought the straight iron through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Manon raised an eyebrow, still refusing to break her focus away from her phone. “Do Elide’s makeup, won’t you?” Manon sighed and rolled her shoulders, finally tearing her gaze away from her phone.

“Fine” Is all she said as she rose from the bed, her sleek ponytail falling down to her hips, and walked towards Aelin’s three-person vanity. She began pulling various boxes and objects out of Aelin’s several makeup bags. Half of the contents were currently spewed across the vanity, almost completely covering the bright blue surface.

“Your makeup collection is almost as bright and as messy as your room” Manon said, not a hint of emotion in her voice.

Aelin turned towards her and winked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Manon, choosing to ignore Aelin’s response, analyzed the contents in her hands and then turned towards Elide, fixing her with a stare and raising an eyebrow to signal Elide to come over. Elide obeyed, making her way over to Aelin’s vanity and taking a seat in the chair next to Aelin and closest to the door.

“Now Elide,” Aelin started as Manon began inspecting Elide’s face and  searching through the contents in her hands once more, “what are we going to do about your outfit.” Elide shifted her gaze towards Aelin, finding her now on the other side of the room by Lysandra and sifting through plethora of clothes in her closet.

“Are we thinking… daring” she said pulling out a dangerously low cut v-neck and handing it down to Lysandra, “sexy” Aelin pulled out a crop top now, so cropped, that Elide thought the underside of her boobs were guaranteed to peek out, “or confident.” Aelin pulled out a black mini-dress. It was form fitting, and as she turned the back around to inspect the rest of the garment, Elide saw that it also would bare her back. Her entire back.

Aelin handed the two other garments to Lysandra and turned back towards her closet. But before Elide could see more, Manon yanked on her chin, bringing Elide’s attention right back to her.

“Don’t. Move.” She gritted out, grabbing for the concealer and going to work on Elide’s face. From her peripheral Elide could see Lysandra inspecting each garment and glancing over at Elide occasionally. Aelin continued searching through her closet, leaning back every so often to inspect it from a farther away.

“I’m not sure” Lysandra said, tossing the garments next to her so that they now resided on the floor, along with a good portion of Aelin’s other clothes. Elide attempted to shift her gaze towards them, but Manon merely yanked on her chin again, bringing Elide’s gaze right back to Manon’s.

“Or…” Aelin said, digging in the closet now with more fervor than before.

“I like the sound of or” Lysandra purred, rising from the beanbag chair and making her way over to Aelin.

Elide couldn’t see what they pulled out of the closet, but by the squeals that Lysandra emitted and the whistling from Aelin, she determined that they had found something-

“Daring, sexy, and confident. Elide, you’ll thank me later” Aelin said. Unable to fight looking away any longer Elide turned her head towards them, earning a string of curses from Manon.

“You’ve ruined the eyeliner.” Elide’s chin was yanked back once more, and Manon was so close to her face as she spoke that Elide could feel the warmth of her breath. “Move again, and watch what happens. Just watch.” Elide swallowed and didn’t budge again.

Once Manon had finished her makeup and finally permitted her to move away, Elide turned towards Aelin and Lysandra to find the both of them giving her roguish grins.

“The makeup looks amazing, as always Manon.” Aelin commented, stealing a glance towards Manon as she spoke and then turning right back towards Elide, that grin still in full control of her features. Elide now realized one of her hands was behind her back, hiding the garment she was to wear that night no doubt.

“Elide, tonight you are everything you think you can’t be. You are the Elide Lochan you are scared to be.” Lysandra tilted her head and looked Elide over. She turned towards Aelin and nodded. Elide brought her gaze over to Aelin as well, a knot forming her stomach and permanently tying itself as Aelin brought her hand out from behind her back, revealing the outfit she was to wear.

Manon, of all people, Manon let out a laugh louder than any of the ones they had let out earlier today. Elide could barely move, her jaw set in permanent gaping as she stared at their choice for her.

Aelin seemed to notice the hesitation, and her face softened a little bit. “If it really makes uncomfortable, we understand. No peer pressure.” Lysandra, however, was mouthing “say yes” so conspicuously that Elide could barely contain her laughter.

It was… nothing like Elide had ever worn.

But maybe she should try something else tonight, be someone else tonight.

So Elide closed her mouth, swallowed down her fear, untied the knot in her stomach, and nodded.

That was all Lysandra and Aelin needed as they rushed towards her to get her ready for the coming night.

Two hours later and the house was packed, literally packed. As Elide pushed through the crowd of people to make her way towards the kitchen she couldn’t help but compare the atmosphere to that of the lunch room. It seemed that school followed her wherever she went. Everyone packed together, so closely that personal space had been forgotten for the entire evening, and the music and conversation so deafening she was half-tempted to cover her ears as she walked by the speakers blaring out the electronic beats.

The kitchen was no better, but Elide needed to find Aelin, and after asking several people, most of whom were too drunk to even answer her, she was finally directed to the small living room that was directly adjacent to the kitchen.

She was glad she decided not to drink tonight. With the atmosphere, she wasn’t really sure what would've happened if she decided to drink.

Not that she had ever even taken a sip of alcohol before.

“Elide!” Lysandra whooped from the couch. She was currently standing on the top edge of the couch with Aelin, swaying her hips to the beat with one hand around Aelin’s waist and the other holding an empty bottle of wine.

“Get down before you fall!” Elide shouted over the music and rushed towards the two. Lysandra giggled and Aelin joined her. Elide looked around frantically for anyone to help her, but it seemed like someone was already keeping an eye on them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch them if they fall” Rowan said from the other side of the couch. He was watching both girls twirl around on the edge of the sofa, a fierce determination set in his gaze.

“Didn’t you try to get them down?” Elide asked, still reaching out for Lysandra and Aelin’s hands, but they moved away from her, sticking out their tongues and even daring to jump up and down on the top edge of the couch with the music.

Rowan chuckled, low and rugged. “trust me, I tried. But once you get to know these two, you’ll realize that they don’t let anything and anyone get in the way of what they want to do. No matter how crazy it is.” His gaze never left them as he spoke to her.

The music seemed to grow even louder then, her eardrums on the verge of bursting.

“How are the cops not already here shutting this down?!” Elide shouted, her voice cracking as she tried to shout over the music.

Rowan tilted his head. “Didn’t you drive up here? Her house is a good ½ mile from the main road and there aren’t any neighbors within a 5 mile radius.”

Elide felt all kinds of stupid. She’d marveled at the trees lining the dirt road up to Aelin’s house, Aelin’s oak-wood mansion with dark blue shutters and french windows and cherry trees and rose bushes and the stone fountain depicting Mala Firebringer. And, gods, the sense of escape it must offer. They could blast the music three, four times louder and no one would even notice.

Perks of being the president’s daughter, Elide guessed.

“Oh god, how much did those two drink!” Dorian said as he came up behind Rowan. His arm was cast lazily over Chaol’s shoulder, his other hand shoved into his pocket. Chaol only rolled his eyes and, if Elide wasn’t mistaken, leaned into Dorian’s touch a little more as Dorian directed them both to the chair opposite the couch that Aelin and Lysandra were currently dancing on.

“I’m betting that Lysandra drank that whole entire bottle herself” Dorian said, and Lysandra only bowed at him before returning to her dancing with Aelin. Elide sighed and moved away from the two, settling into the chair opposite Dorian and Chaol.

And then Dorian’s eyes turned towards Elide and they almost jumped out of their sockets. Chaol startled at the movement and turned towards Elide as well, his eyes flaring at her appearance as well.

“What on earth did Aelin make you wear” Dorian said, his mouth gaping.

“Doesn’t she look HOT” Aelin shouted from atop the couch edge, and let out a stream of giggles.

Uncomfortable was honestly more like it. Her previous confidence to try the outfit was practically gone at this point. Aelin and Lysandra had fit Elide into a black, very low cut bodysuit that left the back completely exposed and had so many cutouts along the sides that Elide thought it was a miracle nothing had peeked out yet. The shorts Aelin had given her to wear barely covered her butt. Barely. It was definitely a mix of daring and sexy, but Elide wasn’t really sure that the confident element was really there. That may have been partly because, right now, she had a lack of it.

“It’s just, I wouldn’t expect you of all people to wear something like that” Dorian claimed, his mouth still ajar.

“Hey! What makes you think that you know who she is and what she wears and-” Lysandra’s declaration started out strong but faded out as she began to slur her words. Dorian put up his hands in defeat and slung his arm back over Chaol’s shoulder. Aelin laughed and jumped down from the couch, landing on the ground as gracefully as a cat. She turned towards Rowan and gave him a goofy smile before leaning up to kiss his cheek and plopping down onto the couch. Lysandra soon followed, and Rowan, finally content that neither of them were in immediate danger, sat down next to Aelin on the couch.

“Where’s Manon?” Elide asked, turning her head around looking for the white-haired girl. Manon, to shed in her in a somewhat good light, had done Elide’s makeup extremely well. Bold, but not too bold. Nothing like her outfit for the night.

“Probably off somewhere making out with Asterin” Chaol replied, his arms crossed over his chest and his face bored.

Dorian snorted and buried his face in Chaol’s neck. Lysandra and Aelin giggled at Chaol’s comment and Rowan rolled his eyes, simply pulling Aelin closer to him as she let the fit of laughter take over her body.

“They think they’re being SO sneaky!” Lysandra exclaimed, laughter still reverberating through her body.

Just then, a long whistle with an abrupt cut-off was sounded and repeated, by the guests. Some of the party-goers even turned towards where Elide was sitting, seeking out Aelin’s gaze and reiterating the short tune until Aelin had met each of their stares and nodded.

“Good lord” Dorian said, putting his head in his hands. Chaol even had the sense to replace his bored look with one of annoyance, and a loud groan escaped Lysandra’s lips.

“What’s happening?” Elide asked, leaning forward in her seat a little more. Aelin closed her eyes for a moment and then turned towards Elide.

“That’s the signal my guests have to give me if they show up. It’s the only rule I have at my parties.”

Elide furrowed her brows. “When who shows up?”

Rowan turned towards Elide then, his usual hard demeanor now seemed as tough as obsidian as his eyes met Elide’s and he spoke.

“The Cadre.”

[ladynorbert]

Night of the Lilies

Okay, Tumblies, here’s an unpublished work I did with @auroraborealia - since it’s both Cullen Appreciation Week and Bethany Hawke Appreciation Week in the Dragon Age fandom, this is something that features them both.

In Dragon Age II, I headcanon that while Hawke is comforted by his/her love interest following the events of the quest “All That Remains,” Varric takes on the task of comforting his best friend’s younger sibling. For me, that’s Bethany. To do this, he needs to get into the Gallows, and that requires some Templar assistance, so he goes to the only Templar he feels comfortable approaching. Slight Varric/Bethany if you squint, because that’s my ship, but it’s mostly just platonic here. F!Hawke/Fenris in the background.

Spoilers, obviously. @cullenappreciationweek, here’s my first contribution. :)

Hawke’s friends were all still reeling from the blow of the afternoon. The death of their fearless leader’s mother hit them all hard; she had always welcomed them cordially whenever they visited the estate, even if she questioned her daughter’s taste in companions, and for her to have spent her final hours in terrified pain was not something any of them were happily contemplating.

Aveline, being something of an extended member of the Hawke family, was taking the blow harder than most. She had known Leandra longest, had shared in her grief the day both Aveline’s husband Wesley and Leandra’s son Carver met their deaths by darkspawn. She would collect herself in time and be there for Hawke, Varric knew, but for now it was best to let her mourn privately.

Fenris was with Hawke; their relationship was a curious one, and Varric himself was never quite sure what to make of it, but he knew the elf loved the rogue and was in the best place to offer her some kind of comfort. So he steered clear of the estate. No, there was someplace else he needed to be on this night.

The sun had just set when he reached the Gallows in search of Knight-Captain Cullen. Fortunately, the Templar was in his usual place, and nodded at the dwarf as he approached.

“Captain, can you spare me a minute?”

Cullen glanced around, as if to make sure all would be well if he let his guard down for a moment, then nodded once more. “Of course. How can I be of assistance?”

“Gamlen Amell - was he here today?”

The captain moistened his lips, then swallowed hard. “I’m not certain I should be telling you that…” he said cautiously.

“It’s all right, I know he was. Do you know why he was here?” Varric looked up at him with determined eyes.

“I… may have heard, yes.” He sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. “For what it’s worth, Hawke has my sympathies. You all do.”

“Thank you. Anyway, I need your help. Hawke’s got everybody else rallied around her right now, one way or another. What I need is to see Bethany.”

“Messere Tethras,” he protested, glancing around again as if worried he might get caught. “You know I can’t.”

“You have to.” The dwarf clenched his jaw. “You’re the only Templar around here I trust as far as I can throw him these days, and let’s face it, I can’t throw you all that far. You’re the only one who can help me pull this off - you think it’s fair to let that girl go through this alone? Andraste’s ass, Cullen, her mother’s been murdered.” Varric’s eyes went hard as he added, “And maybe if the Templars had taken Ser Emeric more seriously when he was trying to investigate the killer years ago, she’d still be alive.”

Cullen visibly winced, but didn’t protest. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the corners of his eyes roughly for several long moments before letting out a tortured sigh. “All right,” he said finally. “All right. But no one can know that I’m doing this.”

“Who do you think I’m going to tell?”

“Fair point,” he muttered, then gestured for Varric to follow. “Come with me.”

Varric trailed after him into the Gallows, which he’d only had occasion to visit one other time. Cullen led him down the hallway past Meredith and Orsino’s offices to a small enclosed courtyard. Obeying the captain’s directive to wait there, he seated himself on one of the benches, staring up at the night sky. He had no idea what he was going to say to Bethany; he just couldn’t stand the idea of her suffering in solitude.

She emerged with Cullen several minutes later, walking as if she had forgotten how to do so. Her eyes were slightly downcast, but in the moonlight it was easy to see they were puffy and red-rimmed. Cullen gave her shoulder a tiny pat and said something to her. She nodded, looked up, and the minute she saw Varric, stumbled towards him as quickly as she could.

“There’s my Sunshine,” he managed, getting to his feet and catching her gently. “Oh… oh, I know…”

Bethany had been convinced that all her tears had already been shed - but as she all but fell into his embrace, she immediately began to sob all over again. She buried her face in his shoulder to hide the sound, grateful for the support of his arms. His grip was the only thing keeping her upright.

Varric sank back onto the stone bench, still cradling her as he did. “I know,” he said again, letting her clutch at his old beaten duster and weep into his silk shirt. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” One gloved hand nested itself tenderly in her hair. He didn’t know what to do, other than to hold her, but maybe that was all she really needed.

She cried for several more minutes while Cullen stood off to the side, staring ahead and trying not to listen. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it, and his features were twisted with pain. Eventually, she ran out of tears and simply rocked herself back and forth, trying to get her breathing under control. “I don’t understand,” she whispered at last. Her throat was so raw it burned to speak. “Why her? Why this? I just don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, not really.” He sighed. “Best I can offer is that the guy was a madman. I’m sorry we didn’t find her fast enough… we tried, I swear to you we tried.”

“I know you did,” she croaked. Her lip trembled and she bit down to make it stop, shaking her head. “It’s just all so senseless - first my father, then Carver, now her.”

“I know, Sunshine. I wish I could fix it for you.” He sighed again, and tightened his grip a bit. “It’s why I came… I couldn’t stand the thought of you going through this by yourself, and your sister’s too eaten up with grief and guilt to be here just now. Fenris is with her, and I’m with you, and neither of you is ever, ever alone - you hear that?”

“Yes.” She nodded, sniffling. She repositioned herself so her head was against his chest. “Thank you so much for coming. I - I don’t even have the words to tell you how much it means to me. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I’m not leaving yet. The captain can stew,” he muttered quietly. “I wouldn’t leave you here if I had any choice in the matter, believe me. You’d be home where you belong.”

“I know, and right now I wish I was home. But it’s not terrible here. And don’t take anything out on Cullen, he’s better than most.” She sighed and looked around the courtyard, which was washed in moonlight. “The hardest part is not knowing - not knowing what's going on with any of you. Not being able to help you…”

Varric chewed on that for a minute. “I need to write more. That’s on me and I’m sorry,” he said at length. “I’ll be better about it, I promise. I should never have let myself get so busy that I left you feeling alone. That’s no way to treat one’s own personal Sunshine,” he added, a bit more jocular.

She managed a small ghost of a smile. “No, no, you're doing all right,” she promised. “You know I'll never say no to hearing from you even more, though. I just…” She sighed. “I feel like somehow the world isn't going to stop until it's taken you all away from me… until everyone I care about is gone.”

“Sunshine, I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. I can’t swear I’ll succeed, because I feel the same way sometimes and I’m terrified of losing all of you too. Especially you and your sister. But I will do my damnedest to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

She nodded at that and all but threw her arms around his neck, embracing him firmly. “I believe you,” she whispered in his ear. “I believe you can.”

He patted her back gently. “I don’t know if I deserve that kind of faith, but it’s nice to have it all the same,” he mused. “All I know is that… more than ever… anything ever tries to touch you or Hawke, there will be hell to pay.”

“Thank you,” she said, and her smile became a bit more genuine, although still pained. “But please, Varric… please be careful. I’m not going to lose you too - I refuse.”

Touched, he caught her hand and pressed it. “I’ll do my best, Sunshine. I promise.”

“Good…” She seemed soothed by the assertion. “Good.” She leaned against him, her arms wrapped around his torso.

“Bethany…” Cullen interrupted cautiously. “Bethany, you should really…”

“Please. Please, just a bit longer, Cullen. Just a bit.” She looked at him, her brown eyes like liquid, and he relented, his mouth folding into a frown of sympathy.

“That’s almost as effective on him as is on me,” Varric murmured. He sighed. “Is there anything I can do for you, Sunshine? Anything I can send?”

She thought for a moment. “Well, I was wondering if… if there’s anything of Mother’s I can have? Anything at all? Even a picture of her will do.”

“I’m sure there is. I’ll talk to big sister when she’s up to it and see what we can do,” he promised. “I’ll commission a portrait if that’s what’s needed.”

“Thank you, Varric. That’s sweet of you. I would carry something from each and every one of you if I could.”

That made him pause. Almost instinctively, his hand dove into his pocket in search of whatever might be there. “It’s not much, but… it’s something, I guess,” he said, pulling out - of all things - his gold-plated noble caste pin. “The elf thought I was kidding when I told him I deliberately misplaced this. Not sure how it ended up in here, but maybe you’re the reason why it did.” He took her hand and closed her fingers around it. “Probably not compliant with Circle regulations, so keep it hidden.”

“I will.” She nodded, and the look in her eyes betrayed how much the little gift meant to her. “Thank you.” She ran her fingers over it before hiding it away. After a moment of contemplation, she added softly. “I miss you.”

Varric honestly wasn’t sure if that was a singular or a plural you. He decided it didn’t matter. “I miss you too. I only have one Sunshine.”

“And I only have one favorite dwarf.” She smiled, feeling like some of the darkness that had threatened to consume her was lifted slightly, and squeezed his hand.

“Well, I should certainly hope so.” He pressed her hand between both of his. “Think you can manage some sleep now?”

She nodded slightly. “I think so, maybe. I’ll try at least. I’m so grateful you came, Varric. Thank you.”

“They still let you walk around the Gallows courtyard a couple times a week? Out where the vendor stalls are?”

“Of course. I get plenty of books from there. Well, besides the ones Isabela sends, that is.”

“The less I think about you reading books Isabela gives you, the happier I’ll be,” he retorted with a smile. “All right. Let’s see if we can’t run into you out there more often. Every Tuesday, at least.”

“I’d like that very much.” She beamed. “They watch us when we’re out there, of course, so I probably won’t be able to touch you or talk to any of you very long, but I can see you. That will be enough.”

He scowled, briefly. “It shouldn’t have to be enough, but we’ll make do. And I’ll make sure you get that memento of your mother. Come on… I don’t want to leave but I guess I’d better.”

She sighed. “Yes, probably. I don’t want you to go either, but I’m just glad you were able to come at all. I don’t think anyone else would have let you.” She threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“It’s gonna be okay, Sunshine. As okay as I can make it, anyway,” he promised. “Your mother was proud of you and she loved you a lot; hold onto that.”

“I will,” she said as she rested her chin on his shoulder, hating that she had to let go. But she did, pulling away and briefly resting her hand on his cheek. “I’ll… I’ll see you later, then.”

“That’s my girl. Go on.” Varric kept his face pleasantly neutral until she was out of sight, then he glanced at Cullen. “I appreciate this.”

Cullen nodded slightly. “I know it wasn’t much, but if it helped even a little…”

There was a pause. “Look,” said Varric finally, “I don’t know what your deal is, what it is that you’d want. I’ll pay; name your price. But by all that’s holy, make sure nothing happens to that girl. Her sister couldn’t stand it.” More quietly, he added, “Neither could I.”

The Templar’s eyes widened and after a beat, he quickly shook his head. “I don’t want anything. I don’t… it’s fine,” he said hastily. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she’s all right. I’ll look out for her. You have my word, if that’s worth anything.”

“It wouldn’t be, from most of the other Templars I’ve met.” Varric pondered that. “But from you I think it actually might mean something. I’m not asking you to give her special treatment - I’m not stupid - I just need to know she’s all right. She and the dog are all Hawke has now, not counting that useless uncle in Lowtown. And they’re all I have.”

“I understand. I’ll look out for her,” he repeated. “And if I can arrange things like this again...” He gestured to the courtyard to indicate the meeting that had just taken place. “Well, I’ll certainly try to do so.”

“Thanks. Hopefully it won’t be so urgently needed.” Varric sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll let you get back to your post. I know you said you don’t want anything, but… you ever drop in at the Hanged Man, give my name to the barman.”

A tiny surprised smile crawled across Cullen’s features. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And… please give my sympathies to Hawke.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.”

[fernsplaysthings]

I needed to do some loose scribbles because I’m working on a detailed Pathfinder character painting at the moment and boy it’s killing me. So while I’m being Dragon Age trash these important ladies were first thing I scribbled up.

And then I accidentally wrote scenarios with them. I don’t usually write existing characters from games etc. but here we go.

Like most evenings in the Hanged Man, the noise level was just above tolerable, the stench was terrible, and the alcohol left much to be desired but it suited it’s purpose just fine. Varric kept it flowing and Hawke kept drinking, it was only polite after all. And despite having been leaning subconsciously on Fenris for at least an hour, still drinking, she didn’t seem anywhere near done for the night. Her stories were getting more crude and the puns had gone from ‘quality but cringe worthy’ to ‘stop’ very rapidly despite the enthusiasm for each telling growing with each mug.

She also wouldn’t stop laughing at her own jokes.

“Dog Lord? More like a dong lord, am I right?” Mabel chuckled, the laugh soon growing slightly out of control, far too proud at her horrible double entendre, out stretched palm waiting for validation, “Seriously, ‘Bela where’s my high five?”

“Give me a moment, I’m trying to excavate it from that shipwreck of a joke.”

That earned a huff from Varric, Anders across the table quickly placing his mug down to turn away hiding his own laughter and possibly ale snorted from his nose. With an over dramatic sigh Mabel made an exaggerated gesture of offense, losing her balance momentarily on her seat and being expertly propped back up again by the elf.

“I’m wasted on you assholes.”

“You’re wasted, most definitely,” he deadpanned back at her, an arm pulling her close enough to press a kiss to the top of her head while the others were distracted by mopping the healer up, “Let’s get you home.”

It’d been a long time coming in all honesty. Toiah had tried to get her sister up to date with all recent events in the day or so she’d been in Skyhold but meeting the Inner Circle had been sprung upon her before she’d managed to finish and explaining on the fly seemed to be the best way to approach it now.

Josephine had been eager to meet ‘the Inquisitor’s sister’ and in a bizarre turn of events Dhavri had been flat out charming. Lelianna had been greeted with a similar amount of charm but the usual Dhavri was seeping back in with each introduction. She was curious about Blackwall, adored Iron Bull, clicked well with Dorian, made a great first impression with Sera, heard one word from Vivienne and left, similarly with Solas, found Varric insanely interesting, approved strongly of her sister’s friendship with Cassandra and...didn’t remember Cole.

All in all, things were going well. Toiah braced herself against the battlements as they knocked on the tower door before them. Introducing her to the Commander was going to be the decider though. Before they’d been swarmed by the Inquisitor’s companions, she’d tried explaining Cullen to Dhavri and much to her own shame, only got as far as ‘ex-Templar’ before Dhavri didn’t want to hear more.

Creators help her.

Peeking around the door Toiah wasn’t surprised to see the Commander at his desk, and as usual he stood to greet her, the hard lined frown he’d been wearing turning to a smile that she was growing unbearably fond of.

“Toi-Inquisitor,” somehow he managed to stop himself as Dhavri entered behind the mage, someone he didn’t recognise by her face but on comparison with the familiar face of the Inquisitor he realised they were related, “I don’t believe I’ve met your guest.”

Clearing her throat a little nervously, an act that drew Cullen’s attention and out from behind his desk to stand a little nearer, Toiah squared herself and tried to calm her voice before she spoke.

“Commander, this is my sister Dhavri Lavellan,” she started in the most even tone she could manage, words steady and measured, “Dhavri this is Commander Cullen...”

“Ex-Templar.”

The jolt of fear and embarrassment that ran through the mage bolted her upright, a pitifully sorry look of terror on her face as she met eyes with the Commander.

“I...Cullen, I’m sorry I tried to...”

“She’d didn’t get a chance to tell me all about her friends but I know what’s important here,” the elder elf all but spat, a protective arm coming up and around her sister’s shoulders, “We never saw many Templars but I know all about them.”

Toiah’s face burnt bright red in shame, ears lowered, eyes no longer able to keep contact with the similarly flushed Commander.

“Well, let me tell you something Commander Templar, you get any weird Templar ideas about my little sister and her status as a mage and I’ll get some weird Reaver ideas about your innards and the floor, understood?”

Toiah prayed silently that the stone would engulf her where she stood.

“I assure you, my Lady, my intentions for your sister are nothing but good. I...am aware she’s a mage, and I respect her as she is. As the excellent leader she’s grown to be too,” the Inquisitor could hear the edge to his reply and she added to her prayer that the two didn’t end up in some kind of feud, “And as you correctly pointed out, I am a former Templar. Not that this seems to have made any difference in your judgement but I...understand your concern. I would fear for her safety too.”

Obviously not expecting such a reasonable response, Dhavri paused just long enough for Toiah to catch her breath and regain some composure before winding her verbally once again.

“Stay away from her.”

“That...may prove difficult.”

Another brief pocket of silence as Toiah wiggled out from the protective arm over her to place herself between them, hesitantly outstretching a slightly shaking hand which Cullen took between his without a second thought.

“We are...kind of, he’s...uh...” she looked to him for the right word, the descriptor for whatever level their relationship had found itself at, but he seemed just as reluctant to put a word to it in their volatile company, “We’re together.”

The Elven warrior raised an eyebrow, dark eyes flickering between the pair, “Together? A Dalish mage and a human Templar...together together?”

Toiah nodded, curling in on herself slightly, shame and embarrassment and defiance all boiling beneath her skin. The tight squeeze of her hand was sort of reassuring though.

“Da’len why...” Dhavri sighed heavily, rolled her eyes, rubbed her temples and just laughed sharply, “Oh, why must you do this to my heart? I should just be thankful you’re alive after the Conclave and Haven and...you’re such a Lavellan. He better not sodding hurt you, I swear.”

“You have my word, my Lady. Your sister’s well being is of the foremost importance and...”

“Cullen...”

“I’m...going to go get some air before you introduce me to anymore of your friends. I think my head’s going to explode.”

[shadowyin-yang]

Fenders, Anders is seriously injured and needs help getting around.

Send Me Prompts!

Cue my usual: “idk if this is what you’re looking for but…” > ~

Misc. Notes: Hawke/Isabela mentions, pre-fenders to fenders, trauma/attack(s) implications but nothing described in detail, feelings of insecurity/self-hatred; also using game-mechanics to explain…you’ll see.

Link to Ao3 Chapter: here.

“This is simple. So simple. Why-oh why isn’t it working?! Why can’tI heal? Why can’t I do ANYTHING right?! I’m so weak and pathetic I can’t evendo the one thing I boast about being good at! Why can’t I heal?! Why am I souseless?! Why, why, why…it’s so dark…”

Anders gasped and his eyes snapped open. His gaze immediately went to theonly source of light he could find. There was a brightly lit fireplace on the right side of the room. Fromthere he slowly took in his surroundings: cobwebs, dust, a relatively comfybed…

Anders lookedbeside him and at the covers. It was a rather large bed. This wasn’t the AmellEstate though. Leandra and Bodahn would never let things get this bad. But the only otherbuilding Hightown he could have access to was…

He swallowed.Flashes of lyrium rushed by his memories. Templars.Or was it…Fenris? With a groan he rubbed his head, trying to remember the details, only then realizing hispounding headache. It didn’t stop him from trying to remember. He recalled they were in a cave. There was either a cave-in or an attack. He recalled using magic and feeling lyrium. Was there something that got burned? He kept pondering as he tried to heal away his headache. As he did, the door to the room opened up. Fenris stood there for a moment,noting Anders looking back, before coming in with the large bowl in hishands. “You areawake.”

“Evidently…”Anders mumbled before ceasing the spell. He groaned before attempting to pushhimself into a sitting position. 

“Don’t!” Fenrislooked ready to drop the item in his hands as he immediately quickened hispace. Pain shot through Anders’s arm the moment he put weight on. It led to himfalling back on the pillows and wailing from the unexpected pain.

“Calm yourself,Mage.” Anders felt Fenris’s hands gently pressing down on the man’s upperarm to keep Anders from moving it. “You are injured. Do not pushyourself.”

Anders hissed, trying to still himself as he listened to the rather calming toneFenris was using. He looked down to his right arm and saw it thicker thanan arm should be and covered with a bag of - Anders guessed was -ice. “Wha…”

After Anders stopped attempted to move again, Fenris removed his touch. “Ah…Hawkethought ice would help. I do not know if they are correct but…none of us arereally knowledgeable in this area. I actually came to switch out the ice.” 

While Fenris poke, Anders looked to the bowl on the stand beside the bed to see that it indeed held a block of ice. 

“Your arm is broken. We…tried placing a caston it.” Fenris removed fabric to show the arm sloppily wrappedwith sticks and cloth. 

“…I’ll um, I’ll fix it later.” Anders said, his tone coming off as if it was just like the time some of the children knock off some organized plants in his clinic. It was rather touching that his friends tried. As Anders stared at it, the more the reality slowly started to sink in: Hisarm was broken. Anders attempted to reach over without rolling onto hisinjury. His hand glowed and ran it over his arm. The magic stopped as Anderslaid flat on his back again with a huff. “Get Hawke!” He growled infrustration as he pressed his free hand to his face, trying to calm himself enough so that he doesn’t accidentally start tearing up. “Please.” He added,hoping it was enough for Fenris to listen to him without argument. 

Fenris wasswift in leaving and retrieving the Champion. It gave Anders little time tocalm himself of the frustration but he tried to maintain his composure. 

“Hey, how areyou feeling?” Hawke asked as they approached the bed.

“Peachy. Pleasetell me you were taught how to use Cleansing Aura.” 

“…What?” theblank look on Hawke’s face gave away the answer but Anders still had to doublecheck. Maybe it was under a different name. Surely Malcolm would’ve taught animportant skill to his children. Assuming Malcolm even knew it to begin with…

“Can you healbones?” Anders asked instead.

“Uh…I can try?I mean, I did try but it wasn’tcoming together. And we figured we should get you safety first and foremost. Ican try again though if you can guide me though-”

Andersimmediately put his hand up when Hawke got closer. “No! Don’t attempt! If you don’t know how,don’t even try. You could make it worse.” 

“Oh…Sorry.” Hawke immediately back away. “Can you…heal yourself then?”

Anders shook his head in frustration. “I would if I could.” He let out asigh. Silence fell in the room. The uncomfortable level started torise. “What happened?” 

“Uh…stuff…” 

Fenris steppedin front of Hawke, shushing him. “We do not need to discuss that. Youshould focus on resting and recovering. I can help you fix the cast if you needto.” 

Anders mutteredto himself before looking up to his companions. “No, I’ll be fine. I needto help those at the clinic.” 

“You shouldtake it easy. I mean, can you even stand yet?” 

Fenris turned around to giveHawke a look. Anders saw Hawke give an inaudible ‘oh.’ 

“Why would youthink I can’t-” Anders didn’t finish his sentence when the aching in his legs, especially his right leg, became more obvious. After a moment’s pause he groaned. “…Is my anklesprained or broken?”

“I was hopingyou would know…” Hawke mumbled with regret, “We put a cast on that too though! Because we weren’t sure…”

Anders groanedeven louder.  

Anders was visibly upset. How does one even confront a manwhen he is driven by strong emotions (well, stronger emotions)? Fenris left it at “you don’t.” Thefoolish mage often refused help even when he needed it the most. Even thenFenris found it difficult to hold it against him. He knew the feeling of beingstripped of your independence and lack of choice in a situation. He wishedAnders wouldn’t be so damn stubborn, but…who washe to judge? 

He (and Hawke) had helped Anders make a better cast, only forhim to shoo them out right after to presumably sulk and adjust to his current dilemma. But that was hours ago. The mage surely mustbe hungry by now. If Fenris was lucky, maybe Anders was also calmer as well. Heentered the room with a small tray. Anders didn’t look to have changedpositions. He laid on his left, the ‘good,’ side, and faced away from the door.

“You should eat.” It was a recommendation, though he had afeeling Anders would not listen just out of spite.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should still eat.” Fenris made obvious noise when he placedthe tray down on the side table drawer to indicate there was presence of food. 

“Why am I in your mansion?” Anders asked instead and without moving. 

“…we felt you would be safer here.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“I see…what happened? I only remember…being in the cave…werethere Templars? I…can’t remember…”

“You do no need to.” Fenris admitted he may have spoken toohastily on that response.

“I feel like…you guys are hiding something.”

“There is nothing to hide. We can discuss it all you want as yourecover. Now, roll over so I can help you up. You need to eat.”

“I do not need your help.” Fenris had to resist rolling his eyesat the predictable response. He watched as Anders pushed himself on one arm, andused his one good leg to help him scoot until his back hit the headboard. “There,see? Perfectly capable!”

“I never said you weren’t.” Fenris stated as he pulled up achair to sit.

Anders mumbled something to himself and looked away awkwardly. The continued silence only increased the awkward feeling. When nothing else wassaid, Fenris passed over a plate from the tray. Just to avoid speaking, Anderspicked up the piece of bread.

“Do you wish to be left alone some more?”

“Yes!” Anders answered a bit too fast while chewing. “I mean uh…”he swallowed. “Yes…I would appreciate that.”

Fenris didn’t question it and stood up to leave. He could feelthe other eying him as he left.

Hawke came by the next day again. How was Anders doing, how ishe feeling, everything they knew the answer to but still felt the need to hearit.

“The mage was trying not to be angry at me as I helped him up.He does not like to be carried.” The morning was a fuss that Fenris wanted toforget.

“Really? I pegged him for the romantic type. Carried off by intothe sunset and all that!”

“Unfortunately for him there was no sunset. Just the bath.” 

“That sucks. Is he moping right now? Cuz you’re evidently notinviting me up there,” Hawke pointed up, as the two still stood by the frontdoor.

“…I do not think I make him comfortable here.”

“Well, we could always move-”

“How do you make him so comfortable?” Fenris cut in. He foldedhis arms and watched as Hawke looked back curiously, and trying to decipher theseriousness of the question.

“Uh…I guess be his friend? Be nice?”

“I think I have been more than accommodating.”

“Yeah, but you also bitch at him more than any of us. He’s injured,but he doesn’t have amnesia ya know.”

“I suppose that is a fair point…” Fenris looked down in thought.He looked back to Hawke before they decided to wander off to see Anders. “How easy is itfor you and Isabela to…talk?”

“I almost want to say we don’t but that I would be a lie. I don’tknow, Fenris. It’s…hard.” Hawke found themselves mimicking Fenris’s pose. “We both got some baggage in our lives. She probablyhas more honestly. And sometimes we make light of it to cope but ya know how it is…whenit comes to serious talks it still can be hard. You don’t want to be vulnerableor weak. In the back of my mind I know she wouldn’t see me that way but…you stillget scared. Long story short: It’s not easy. But…I’m going to try looking past the pride if it can help make us work.” 

Fenris nodded, seemingly understanding. 

“Something you want to tell me?” Hawke asked. They sounded like they were going to put up a mischievous grin but when Fenris looked, Hawke only looked concerned. 

“Perhaps later.” 

“Alright, but I’m holding you to that!”

What was there to say though? Fenris replayed his conversation with Hawke multiple times throughout the day, especially when Anders was acting rather impatient with him while refusing help (not that it stopped him from getting the help he needed). He and Anders had a few scuffles in recent years, in the sexual kind, but there wasn’t anything that needed to be said to each other that they couldn’t say in the public eye. At least that was the idea, and Fenris was fairly certain Anders felt the same way. And yet even now, as Fenris would help Anders out of bed or bring him necessities, neither wanted to say anything they didn’t have to. Except…Fenris was fairly certain there were many unspoken things that needed to be said and neither wanted to make that first jump. 

Fenris couldn’t help but feel that he was alone in that thought. Anders seemed persistent in keeping his thoughts to himself no matter how many not-so-secret glances they gave each other, or the lingering touches that long overstayed what a necessary touch should last. Fenris rather not make the first move but he knew Anders would never even dare to say a word about…more. 

Anders dragged himself (mostly his one leg) across the room. His leg wasn’t completely better but it could handle some of his weight now. Maker how long has he been rotting away in here? Fenris opened the door to see Anders using the wall to lean on as he moved towards him. “Heh, see! Totally can stand and go clean myself up without your help! I can be ready to go to the clinic in no time!” 

Fenris folded his arms over his chest and looked at him speculatively. “Mage, no one but your demon believes you are wasting time recovering. Stop pushing yourself and rest.” 

“Oh shut up! He’s a spirit for the last time!” Anders kept sliding his leg across the floor until he was at the doorframe. “Also! It’s not Justice nagging me. I want to go back! I hate being confined to a bed doing nothing while people are suffering out there. I feel so…so useless. And let me tell you, that is not a fun feeling to have!” 

Fenris didn’t respond and merely reached towards the mage’s chest to fix the sling that held his arm. “Why must you have such a martyr complex?”

“Call it what you want. You wouldn’t understand…” 

Fenris stopped messing with the sling and looked up. “I want to understand. You owe them nothing. You owe us nothing. You speak of nothing but the mistreatment you have received in your life. So you can turn your back to the world and no one would fault you. I would not fault you. And instead you place trust in strangers that could harm you or abuse the use of your clinic. It is not logical and yet you persist in this.” 

Anders looked away and eventually gave a light shrug. “What do you want me to say…? There is no…logic to it. It’s just…the right thing to do. I think about all the times people could’ve helped me and how it felt when no one was there. I don’t want others to feel that way when it can be avoided. And I don’t see how it’s wrong to be the one good thing in someone’s day or to help save someone’s life.”

No, there was nothing wrong with that. Fenris wondered if there would be anyone left in Darktown if it weren’t for Anders. But it came back to the obligation Anders didn’t need to give. However, he knew arguing for someone to stop helping people seemed to be a moot point. Fenris sighed. “If it means that much to you…I’ll discuss with the others to find a way to get the clinic up and running. However…” Ander’s face immediately dropped displeasure. “You are to remain here until you fully recover. I see you can stand and I can help you around the mansion; but unless there is an emergency in Darktown we all feel it is best for you to focus on your recovery.”

Anders let out a sigh in frustration. “You need magic to heal some injuries.”

“I think Hawke is rather capable of handling most that require a spell or two.” 

“There are potions and supplies and-”

“I am sure the witch can figure some of it out. And Isabela and Varric can surely find ways to cover your inventory.” 

“But you guys must have better things to do than to-”

“Than to what? Do the right thing?” Fenris threw the words back at Anders. 

Anders fell silent.

Fenris waited for a response but when none came he continued on. “You realize they are your friends? You will not owe them for their services and they would never expect it from you.”  

Anders only looked more defeated. 

Fenris sighed. “I am not trying to berate you, Ma-…Anders.”

Anders shrugged, but didn’t respond or look back. 

“…Let me ask you this then: Why do you think I offered to have you stay here?”

“You said…it was safer.”

“Yes. And?”

“I don’t know…? Did I save you back in that cave or something?” 

Fenris sighed, seeing that going around the issue wasn’t going to work. He raised his arm and held it there beside Anders. Fenris waited for Anders to stare it long enough to understand he wanted the man to take it. Eventually Anders holds onto Fenris and leans into him as the elf slowly guided them back to the bed. “To answer your question, you did save me back in the cave.” 

“Did I? Well you seem okay so I must’ve done an alright job!” 

Fenris laughed softly. “You really did.” 

“Well, if you can compliment me, then that certainly must’ve been something.” 

“It was…something. Something I rather not happen again.” Fenris swallowed, his memories showing him the panic in Anders’s eyes and the words he murmured to himself. The mere look Anders was given when he saw the lyrium on Fenris’s skin made the warrior feel a discomfort he didn’t know he could feel. Anders had looked at Fenris in many ways, but never was it out of conditioned fear. That was never what he wanted Anders to feel, not from himself especially. He knew Anders wasn’t in his right mindset, but it didn’t ease his worries. Did Hawke know? Did any of their friends know what to do if Anders were to fall into a panicked state again? 

When Anders looked at him with concern, Fenris realized his own tenseness. He shook the memory from his head and relaxed a bit before helping Anders down onto the bed. With a muttered consent from Anders, Fenris helped move the mage until his back was against the headboard and rested against the fluffy pillows. 

“You feeling alright?” Anders finally asked after Fenris released him. 

Sometimes Fenris hated hearing the seriousness in that question when it came from Anders. It gave the idea that Fenris needed help because he wasn’t alright at all. And it often came down to him not wanting Anders to be right so he would reject the genuine well-meaning question when they were asked. But maybe, sometimes, the mage was allowed to be right…because he often was…

“I am fine…” Fenris sat down on the bed. Anders only stared with concern and confusion, neither of them fully believing that answer. Finally, Fenris turned slightly to face Anders after a deep breah. “I know this is…probably the most inappropriate time…but I do not know when a good time would be anymore. So…” Another moment of silence passed as he took heavy breaths before continuing. “You are an insufferable mage sometimes.”

“Wow thanks for taking a minute to tell me that…”

“You are stubborn, idiotic, hypocritical at times, have terrible coping mechanism, and you hold unnecessarily long grudges.” Fenris watched Anders shake his head and looked away, seemingly heard all of this before. “But you are also kind, rather patient even, and an idealist to a fault. I know in doing so you bring people hope. You bring out the best in people that may lose that part of themselves for good. You believe in the good of people where no one would dare expect such a thing. Anyone who believes you are not worth the trouble to be with would be a fool. And so…I apologize for…all the times I have hurt you, even if I did not intend to. I know my own faults and I will do my best to work with you on them…if you would have me.” 

As another pause came between them. Fenris can now say he has bragging rights for being able to silence Anders for an extended period of time. Anders could only stare back, trying to take in what was said to him and waiting for this cruel joke to end. But it never did. 

“I…understand if you do not feel the same,” Fenris spoke again, knowing Anders was still having trouble sinking in the information out of pure disbelief, “I have already accepted that as a possibility. It…is ultimately selfish of me to do this to you. I just do not want you to believe that if you were to get hurt again, or worse, that you would think it would not matter. Because now…someone besides you will be hurt.” 

“Heh…yeah, that…that’s a tad selfish…I mean…now I have to be more careful or risk feeling guilty all the time.” Anders felt the guilt rising in him now as they spoke. 

“That is the plan.” Fenris kept the tone light, trying to coax Anders into lightening up if he could. 

“How awful of you…” Anders almost laughed to himself. This was ridiculous. This had to be a joke! No one could ever be romantically attracted to him, let alone someone like Fenris. Fenris, who deserved more, and deserved better. “You know that…I have nothing to offer you right? Look at me, Fenris. I can’t even do the one thing I’m good at. I have no money or luxuries and my life is never going to be safe or fulfilling…” 

“I am looking at you. I have looked at you for…longer than I originally believed. You offer more than you realize…” Fenris carefully reached up, and brushed aside the hair that Anders let loose to help hid his face the more he lowered his head. “As I have said…anyone who believes you are not worth the trouble to be with would be a fool.” As Fenris pulled his hand away, Anders’s reached up to grab ahold of it. He held on tightly, as if it’s a lifeline. His body tensed and he was unable to hold in the tears that finally spilled. Anders knew he couldn’t argue. How do you reject another’s view of yourself when the view isn’t your own? 

Anders’s response screamed ‘I don’t deserve this.’ Fenris knew he couldn’t change the other’s mind nor make Anders see himself the way Fenris did. The warrior held on tightly in return, determined. He’ll tell Anders how much he meant to him, to their friends, and the people of Darktown. He won’t let the mage go another day believing there wasn’t someone out there that cared about him, even if it meant reminding him every single day. 

[europolarist]

Warden Hawke Chronicles

A/N: Trying something new and posting my fic chapters on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy the rewrite of my AU story where it’s Hawke, not the Sibling that gets tainted by the Blight.

***CHAPTER 1 ***

The dust settled around Daniela Hawke’s panting form.

“I hope that’s the last group.”

She looked over to see her sister standing over the corpse of a genlock.

Leaning against the rocky outcropping of the chamber, the stone pinching her back through the armor, Daniela looked around at the damage.

Cooling magic washed over Daniela. The touch was familiar but new, so it must have been Anders and not her sister using his mana to heal the group.

Glancing at Varric, who stood near the back of the cavern, near the doorway from which they’d come, she could almost see the anger flowing off her friend.  It had only been a few hours, if she could correctly guess the time underground, since his brother’s betrayal.

Feeling revived, Daniela pushed herself off her support and crossed the clearing. It smelled of sulfur and filth, like every other room they’d been in since Bartrand had abandoned them; but at least they were no longer fighting those possessed rock demons.

“There’s another group coming.” Anders picked up his staff and looked about the chamber. “At least five.”

“Battle formations, people.” Daniela drew her daggers and headed in the direction that Anders had been staring. Daniela was the first line of defense in protecting the others.  For a moment, Daniela wished that she’d thought of the team’s structure before they’d left and brought a warrior rather than two mages. They had a couple in their group of friends, Aveline was a trained soldier and Fenris, well, he was something else. She should have agreed with her mother and taken one of them instead of bringing her sister.

Hearing the grunts of the blighted monsters coming down the passageway, she slipped into the darkness behind the stalagmite near the entry.

The first darkspawn, a short grunting one that Anders had once said was a genlock, appeared as a scout. Now familiar, the scent of sulfur followed behind the monster and Daniela waited a breath before jumping out of her hiding spot and crashing into the short beast. Her legs wrapped around his waist from behind and she quickly slit its neck, blood bubbling from its neck.

It gurgled, trying to breathe,  as it crashed to its knees and Daniela leapt off its back, turning in the air to face the taller hurlock.

The hurlock, a grizzled mangled form of a once-human, reached for its sword. She tried to avoid it’s dead eyes, there had been more than one occasion in fighting the beasts where she’d drawn her sword a moment too slowly.

 Adjusting her blade,  a volley of arrows from Bianca knocked the beast backward, tripping over its own feet.

Hair on the back of her neck bristled as she darted forward, wanting to take advantage of the injury. The electric snap of her sister’s lightning spells flashed at Daniela’s side before hitting something behind the hurlock.

Ignoring the magic, she whirled on the hurlock. She changed her grip again and slashed her dagger across its arm, using a technique she’d perfected in the last few months to render the arm useless. The hurlock’s sword slipped from his limp hand and she jabbed her dagger into the beast’s side, where she knew the armor would be weak.

It screamed in her ear and Daniela flinched for only a moment before twisting and then pulling the dagger free from its body.

She leapt out of the way as the hurlock staggered forward, looking for her next target. If it wasn’t finished already, Varric would take care of it.

“Bethany,” Anders called out, and Daniela turned to see the tell-tale shimmer of a rogue ‘spawn slipping into the shadows near her sister.

Forgetting about the darkspawn at the door, Daniela pulled at her training and leapt through the air, closing the distance between herself and the ‘spawn advancing on her sister. With no armor, Bethany was a clear easy target and Daniela wasn’t going to let the beast get his hands on her.

It took only a mere blink of an eye to complete her journey, her instructors had been very thorough, and with her daggers drawn, she speared the rogue before he reached the mages.

The beast bucked, throwing Daniela off, and she crashed into a nearby pillar, crying out in pain.

Anders’ healing magic washed over her as Daniela leapt back to her feet and attacked the rogue with increased vigor, her daggers almost a blur as she sliced and cut at the beast.

It caught her armor with its own blade and Daniela breathed through the pain as she finally found a spot where her dagger could pierce the armor and finally put an end to the dangerous monster.

Her breath caught at the grin the beast gave her, Daniela’s body shuddering. Glancing down at her body, Daniela could see the sword cutting through her side and glanced up at the beast’s bloody eyes for just a moment before its eyes rolled into the back of its head.

“Anders!”

Daniela looked over at her sister, Bethany’s face stricken with pain.

Healing magic washed over Daniela again as she fell to her knees, still unable to feel the pain of the blade that had very nearly gutted her.

“Maker’s Balls.”

Daniela could hear Varric’s familiar pounding footsteps from somewhere behind her.

Asecond wave of magic, this time Bethany’s, crashed into her and Daniela could feel the wound knitting under her armor.

“Focus on the last ‘spawn.” Finally catching her breath, Daniela shouted the order and reached for her weapons. She reminded herself to thank both the healers with a larger portion of their loot when they returned to the surface. Daniela allowed herself to collapse onto the ground when the last of the darkspawn had been dispatched. She swiped at her mouth where one of the darkspawn had bashed her face with the hilt of his blade, certain that it had broken a tooth.

She spat, cleaning her mouth of most of the coppery blood, and then ran her tongue over her teeth. Nothing broken, thank the Maker.

Drawing in a few deep breaths, she looked around at her companions. Most seemed no worse for the wear, though Bethany’s hair was a bit more frazzled than usual.

A chuckle escaped her lips before she could catch herself and Bethany glanced at her with a suspicious look.

Unable still to breathe properly, Daniela merely smiled and waved away her sister’s concern.

“Everybody alright?”

“Thanks for the healing,” she said, after one last gasping breath. “That last bastard was—“

“A bloody bastard,” Varric interrupted.

Anders snorted in laughter and Daniela fell back against one of the rocky growths, feeling queasy.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Daniela looked up to see Bethany hovering over her.

“I’m sure.” Daniela nodded. “Just need a few moments to recover.”

When, a few minutes later, she felt recovered, Daniela let them know it was time to move on. Anders appeared at her side, his hand outstretched for her to take. Grateful for the help, Daniela took the offered aid and allowed Anders to help her up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

She frowned, Anders echoing her sister’s concern.

“I’m fine.” Daniela pulled her hand away from his and headed toward the passage to the right of where the ‘spawn had come from. “Let’s head this way.” **** “This part of the Deep Roads looks familiar.” Daniela glanced around the corridor as it opened to reveal a ledge that she was almost sure they’d been on before the betrayal. Her stomach twisted and she felt like she had a fever, and was praying to the Maker, for once, that she had the flu.

“And it only took us five days.” Varric stepped around her, looking at the walls. “Look, there’s our marking.”

She followed the line his finger made toward the doorway and saw the familiar glyph that Anders had carved into the rock what felt like weeks ago.

Thankful for the confirmation that they were back on the main road, Daniela was surprised to feel yet another wave of nausea roll down her throat.

Her arm itched where her armor had been cut by the darkspawn blade and she sighed. It wouldn’t be long before she could no longer hide her symptoms.

“Could we take a break?” She glanced over her shoulder to look at her companions, hoping they’d be ready for a pause as well.

“Daniela?”

Her knees buckled and Daniela collapsed with a grunt onto the floor, unable to answer her sister’s question. Daniela felt her throat close with realization that the feeling of darkness was more than just exhaustion. Thinking about it, she could already feel the corruption in her veins.

“It’s the blight, isn’t it?” Daniela looked up at Anders, whose feathered pauldrons blurred at the edge of her sight.

“I can feel it moving through my body,” she said, not waiting for his answer and looking for Bethany. “I’m going to go the way of Wesley.” Daniela’s eyes burned with tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. Though it had been nearly a year and a half since they’d run from the blight Daniela could still imagine the grey skin of Aveline’s husband as Daniela shoved the blade into his gut, ending his life prematurely and saving both husband and wife of the pain of the infection.

“Dani.”

Already she could hear the tears in her sister’s voice.

“I don’t think I’ll be making it to the surface with you, Bethy,” she said. “It’s up to you to protect mom from Gamlen.”

“But,” Bethany started, though she didn’t continue.

Silence washed over them for a moment.

“I was hoping the corruption wasn’t coming from you.”

She turned to look back at Anders, wondering about his Warden abilities.

“Is there anything you can do?” Daniela knew it was a slim chance, but if Wardens protected the world from the darkspawn, maybe Anders could cure it. They hadn’t talked much about his Warden history; he’d been incredibly closed up about his time with them. All she knew that their purpose was apparently important and once one joined, you could never escape.

Anders had told her once, one late night when they were the last ones awake at the Hanged Man, that one day they would grow tired of his insolence and come for him. She wasn’t sure he planned on surviving that reckoning.

“The maps I got from the Wardens. They planned to come on their own expedition. It’s possible we could find them.”

Even in her addled state, Daniela could hear the hesitation in the Warden’s voice. He did not want to do this. He did not want to go searching for the people who might very well kill him.

“How would that help?”  

There was anger in Bethany’s voice and Daniela winced. Her sister should never have to worry about any sort of burden.

“They have the potential to stop the Blight in Daniela,”  Anders said gravely.

“They have a cure?”

“No, not really, but becoming a Warden will stop it from killing her.”

“Are you sure?”

Daniela turned her head to look at Varric’s blurred form , his voice hoarse. “The process is painful, and might kill her anyway.”

“But it will give her a chance at life?”

“You may never see your sister again, Bethany.”

“I’ll do it.” Daniela struggled to sit up straight, despite the world being blurry. “A chance at life is better than certain death.”

“We don’t have much time then.” Anders moved around in front of her, the blond hair and feathers clearly indicating who it was that knelt in front of her. “Can you stand?”

Daniela nodded, unsure but wanting her sister to feel certain that this was the right decision. She didn’t want to part on bad terms, especially with Anders’ warning in her ears.

At least, she thought, using Anders as a walking stick, Bethany would be protected with the money they’d likely make and the friends she was leaving behind. They would be able to keep her from the Circle.

It took some time, Daniela limping on Anders arm, before the mage finally stopped.

“I think they’re nearby,” he said, loosening his hold on her.

Daniela glanced around and hobbled over to a nearby outcropping, needing to rest.

“Or it’s darkspawn.” Varric’s crossbow clicked into place as he spoke from the back of the group.

Daniela reached for her blades. Though she wasn’t sure how much energy she’d have to fight, she wasn’t about to let the darkspawn infect her friends.

“No.” Anders’ hand appeared on her shoulder, keeping her in place. “We’ll take care of them.”

The electric touch of magic filled the chamber and the fighting erupted around her as the darkspawn came into view. The world tipped as the sounds of fighting grew muffled in her head.

No, Anders had been right. She had no fight left to give.

Daniela wasn’t sure how much time passed before the darkspawn had been dispatched, but she did notice that there were more people in the room.

“Commander.” Anders, for once, had a hint of reverence in his voice.

“Anders.”

Daniela glanced at the man who’d spoken, standing in front of a small group of men.

She blinked her vision clear, hoping that she wasn’t as near to death as she felt.

“We need your help, sir.” Bethany stepped forward, her magic brushing against Daniela like a warm breeze. “My sister has been tainted.”

“And you want our help?”

“We want you to make her a Warden.”

“Of course you do.” There was derision in the Commander’s voice as he answered Anders.

“This may be as much a death sentence as the blight itself.”

“I know this.” Daniela picked herself up off the rock where she’d been resting, gathering what remaining strength she had. Her legs were wobbly beneath her, but she managed to prevent herself from grabbing Bethany for support. “If there’s a chance at living, I’d happily pay the cost, whatever it is.”

Nearby, Daniela could hear Anders grunt dissent. He did not agree, and perhaps she should listen to him, but the thought of dying in these tunnels turned Daniela’s stomach more than the thought of serving a life-sentence for a noble cause.

[pikapeppa]

Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Rescue

Chapter 7 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3!! 

In which Piper goes to Estwatch and finds Cullen in a bind. Literally. 

Let’s all take a bow to @schoute​, whose art for this week’s chapter is just... exceptionally beautiful. [sheds many tears]

Read here on AO3! ~7500 words. (Psst, did some of you guys miss Chapter 6? I didn’t do a Tumblr post about it because I sprung two chapters on Schoute unexpectedly... make sure you didn’t miss one!)

- PIPER - 

The rowboat’s oars glided through the water with barely a splash. Piper crouched at the bow of the boat, her eyes narrowed at the shore as they glided closer to the southeast coast of Estwatch. 

The navy sloop was anchored about a half-mile from the northwest end of the island. The make of their ship told Piper that she was expecting about thirty men in total: likely twenty actually on land, with the rest guarding the sloop itself. Here on the southeast beach, there was no one in sight, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. On the plus side, it meant the navy men wouldn’t see their approach. 

On the negative side, it meant they’d have to travel some ways inland or around the periphery of the island before meeting anyone, and that meant being farther from their escape route.

No one said we’ll need a quick escape, Piper reminded herself for the umpteenth time. After all, this could just be a normal navy duty and not something suspicious. It was still possible that Piper and the crew would discover Cullen and his men doing something normal, like recovering some of the pirate loot that was stashed on this swamp-ridden dump so they could restore it to its rightful owners. 

It was unlikely – extremely unlikely, if her gut instinct was anything to go by. But still possible. 

“What is the plan?” Fenris said quietly. 

She glanced at him. “We split up,” she said. “You, Sera, and four others will come with me; we’ll go along the eastern coastline. One archer and one swordsman will stay with the boat. Kaaras will take the rest along the western coast.” She turned to face the rest of her fifteen crewmen. “We’re looking for information for now, not to fight,” she told them. “Remember, gauge your actions based on Commander Cullen. If he’s fine, then don’t attack. Defend if they spot you, but don’t attack. If Cullen is in trouble, though…” 

“Hit ‘em where it hurts,” Sera finished. “Right in the dangle-bags.”

“Exactly,” Piper said. She looked at them all. “If nothing out of the ordinary happens, we’ll meet back at the boat in two hour’s time.” Two hours was about the time they would need to scout the island in full. 

There was a murmur of ‘aye Captain’s, and Piper nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the island. 

She idly ran her fingers over the pommel of her Orlesian épée. They would be pulling in to the shore in about two minutes. In two minutes, they’d be on the nasty island of Estwatch searching for Cullen to make sure he was all right.

In two minutes, after two long days of useless fretting, she’d finally be doing something. 

Fenris spoke again, in a very quiet tone. “You will use caution when we find him.”

Piper shot him a sideways glance. “Careful, Fen. That almost sounded like you were trying to give me an order.” She smirked faintly to soften her words.

“I would not dream of it,” Fenris said dryly. “Not that you would listen even if I tried.”

“Damned right I wouldn’t,” she said cheekily. “Message received, though. You’d be sad if I died. Trust me, so would I.” 

Fenris scoffed, and Piper grinned at him as the rowboat softly slid into the shore. She was the first off the boat, and she planted her hands on her hips as the others clambered onto the squishy sand. 

“All right,” she said. She pointed toward the thick mangroves that covered much of the island. “Stick to the edges of the forest there for cover. If you’re spotted, try to hide rather than attack. If you have to attack, make them come to you.”

There was a general murmur of agreement. Piper turned to Kaaras. “Two hours,” she reminded him. 

The lanky qunari saluted her with his signature boyish grin. “On my honour as a pirate, ma’am.”

She smirked at him, then jerked her head to Fenris and her handful of fighters, and they hurried toward the edge of the mangrove forest and slipped into the shadows. 

Piper was utterly silent as she padded through the sludgy sand along the edges of the forest. Fenris and Sera were silent as well, though Piper noted with amusement that Fenris’s nose was slightly wrinkled as he padded through the mucky sand. 

Piper smirked. “Your own fault for not wearing boots,” she whispered. 

He sneered. “I don’t need them.”

Sera grinned and elbowed him. “Your face says ‘squish’,” she whispered. “Funny change from the scowl, that. Maybe get your precious feet dirty more often.” 

Fenris pursed his lips and didn’t reply. Piper shot Sera a tiny smile, and they continued in silence for some time. 

They made their way along the edge of the mangroves at a slow and measured pace, and Piper tried to ignore the buzz of agitation that was urging her to run. Much as she might not want to admit it, Fenris was right; their approach needed to be cautious. They needed to assess the threats so they could eliminate them with the minimum of losses, especially since this particular sortie was far from their usual acts of piracy. 

Piper knew that rescuing Cullen was not her crew’s usual fare. She didn’t let anyone stay on the Lady Luck if they weren’t halfway decent people, but the fact still remained that they were pirates. Each of them had their own special reasons for being on the ship, but they also all shared two common goals: to escape the poverty or indignity of a ‘law-abiding’ life on land, and to provide for themselves. No one had signed up with the intention of altruistically rescuing handsome blond Commanders in distress. This little mission didn’t involve any kind of payout whatsoever, so by all rights, there was no reason the crew should be doing what she said. 

She was lucky that the crew was so loyal to her and to the Lady Luck. It probably didn’t hurt that she’d promised to split her entire share of the loot across the crew for the next five raids, but still. 

Really, if Piper sat down to analyze her own motives, there was no good reason for her to be setting out on this little rescue mission, either. Just as Fenris had warned, the risk was high and the payout was nil. But for Piper, being a pirate had never just been about the looting and the gold and the goodies. It had never just been about the sailing, either, though there was nowhere she loved being more than on the Lady Luck in the middle of the sea. 

Being a pirate was freedom. Being a pirate meant giving people freedom. And if Cullen wasn’t one of the most trapped people Piper had ever met, she didn’t know who was. 

He hid it well, with his firm commitment to duty and to keeping Kirkwall safe. And Piper knew that his commitments were genuine and heartfelt. But there was also a reason she and Cullen had become unlikely friends, despite their opposing lives and his deeply-rooted suspicion of pirates – a suspicion that had taken her multiple Kirkwall visits to start to melt. There was a reason he always took the time to chat with her, to hear her stories in jail and to hear her out when she had information to share. 

Cullen was looking for a different perspective. He was seeking something different than the military life he’d always known. He might not have ever admitted it to her, but Piper knew him well enough to know this was true.

Cullen was a good man, and a lawful one. But unfortunately, what was law and what was good did not always line up. And based on their last encounter in the Chantry over a month ago, it seemed that Cullen was slowly – and painfully – starting to realize this himself. 

“Listen,” Fenris whispered. 

Piper stopped and held her breath. Sure enough, the sounds of voices could be heard up ahead along the beach. 

They sounded to be about thirty paces away. The speakers weren’t in sight quite yet, shielded by the mangroves that were also hiding Piper and her companions from view. All she could tell from the voices was that they were stern, and there were more than one. 

“Come,” she whispered. She, Fenris, Sera and their four companions silently moved closer until the voices became audible. 

“I act on the authority of Admiral Meredith Stannard by proxy,” one unfamiliar voice announced. “I hereby–”

“You have no right,” the second voice interrupted angrily – a very familiar voice, and one that made Piper’s heart rate instantly spike. 

Cullen. She pushed past Fenris so she could see, and her jaw dropped in horror. 

Cullen was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back – the pose meant for criminals about to be executed. Eight navy soldiers were arrayed around him, alert but at ease with their weapons sheathed. 

Cullen was staring up at his accuser: a grim-faced Navy man that Piper didn’t recognize, who was holding a piece of parchment in one hand and a heavy flintlock in the other. Piper listened in breathless horror as Cullen berated his captor.

“This is mutiny,” he railed. “This is utter injustice. This – it is a lie! You brought that blood lyrium on board! Meredith gave it to you, didn’t she?” He struggled against the ropes around his wrists and glared up at the Navy man. “I will see you imprisoned for this, mark my–”

The grim-faced man struck Cullen in the face with the butt of the flintlock.

The blood roared in Piper’s ears. She stepped out of cover with her own flintlock raised. “Hey, assholes!” she yelled. 

All the soldiers turned to look. Behind her, Fenris muttered very quietly: “Venhedis.” 

She shot the nearest soldier directly in the face, then the second closest soldier in the chest, then flung the empty flintlock into the face of the third-nearest soldier as he came running toward them. The officer stumbled back with a cry of surprise and pain as the flintlock bashed his nose, and Piper dodged past him toward Cullen.

Behind her, she could hear her crew yelling as they engaged the rest of the soldiers. Another soldier lunged at her with his sword drawn, but she dodged smoothly around him, slashing his back with her épée as she spun along his side. He stumbled at the cut, then lunged toward her again.

Their swords met with a clang of steel on steel. He shoved her back, using his weight to try and throw her off-balance, but Piper was well-used to such brutish tactics, and she was far more accustomed to fighting on sand than him. 

And unlike honourably-trained Navy men, she had no qualms about using that sand.

She dropped to one knee, grabbed a handful of sand, and whipped the sand into her opponent’s face. He gasped and stumbled back, blinded, and Piper sprang to her feet and booted him in the chest. She delivered a vindictive slash to her enemy’s gut as she bolted past him toward Cullen.

He was slumped forward on his knees – still upright but barely, with his head hanging low. She darted a frantic look around the beach as she drew close; all the other soldiers were either dead or engaged with the rest of her crew; Fenris was fighting two men at once, silently as was his norm but with a vicious snarl on his face.

She skidded to her knees in the sand beside Cullen. Fuck, fuck, he was unconscious.

She grasped his shoulder. “Cullen,” she gasped. 

No response. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook his shoulder roughly. “Cullen,” she hissed, and she patted his cheek, noting idly as she did that his stubble was longer than she’d ever seen before.

He still didn’t rouse. She gritted her teeth, then pinched the juncture of his shoulder and his neck hard. 

His head jerked up with a grunt of discomfort. “Wha…?” 

Piper forced herself to breathe. “Hey,” she said. She stroked his cheek gently to make up for the pinch, and when he finally turned his head to look at her, she smiled.

“Hello, Golden Boy,” she purred. “Did you miss me?”

He stared at her, then blinked hard as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “P-piper?” he said.

A slow, lopsided smile was lifting the corner of his gorgeous scarred lip. A nasty gash over his eyebrow was leaking a slow trickle of blood, and Piper’s heart swelled with an undeniable rush of tenderness as she wiped the blood away from his eye. Mythal’s mercy, he looked fucking exhausted. 

“Captain Mad Piper, at your service,” she confirmed. She shuffled around behind him and grabbed her Rivaini dagger from the strap at her thigh so she could cut the cruel ropes around his wrists. “Come on, let’s get you–”

Someone grabbed her dagger-bearing wrist. “Got you, you knife-eared whore!”

She ducked down toward the enemy’s hand and bit it hard. 

The man holding her yelped and released her wrist. Piper sheathed the dagger and grabbed her épée in the same fluid movement, and by the time her assailant lunged toward her again, she was on her feet with her sword raised. 

Their blades met with a cacophonous clash, and Piper met her assailant’s gaze. 

It was the grim-faced man who had struck Cullen unconscious. For a split second, Piper saw red. 

She snarled as their blades slid apart, then lunged at him in a fit of rage. He parried her thrust and pushed her back, then lunged at her in turn. 

She deflected his lunge and tried to wrest her blade away, but this man was larger than the others, and he pressed toward her with strong, hard swings and slashes. She backed away from him, deflecting his thrusts with both hands on her sword for extra support. The impact of each hit rattled up through her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and allowed the discomfort to fuel her fury. 

The grim-faced man surged toward her, and Piper dropped swiftly to her knees to duck the lunge, then swept her sword up along his side as she rose to her feet behind him. 

He stumbled, free hand flailing around to grasp his wounded side, and Piper bared her teeth. “Come along then, poppet,” she panted. “Try that again. I fucking dare you.”

He glared at her, his chest heaving for breath, then slowly and painfully straightened before lunging at her again.

Piper backed away once more, taking his slashes and lunges in stride to wear him out. When his flank and ribs were soaked in blood, she knew it was time. 

He grasped his sword with hands and lunged at her with a desperate roar. Piper dodged aside and grabbed his wrist, then smoothly slipped under his arm and twisted. 

Propelled by his own momentum, he flipped head over heels and landed hard on his back. Piper instantly kneeled on his chest, making certain to place a brutal pressure on his wounded side. 

She leaned in close to his ugly, sweaty face. “When you decided to take me on, you forgot one very important thing, mate.” She grabbed her dagger from her thigh sheath and laid it lovingly across his throat. “I’m Captain Mad Piper.” 

She split his throat with a swift slash, then spat in his choking face for good measure. Satisfied, she rose to her feet and ran back to Cullen, who was watching her with wide eyes. 

She slashed his bonds swiftly, then helped him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“I – y-yes, I’m fine...” He took a faltering step then stumbled into her, and she braced herself against his muscular weight with a grimace. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered. “I’m – forgive me, I – my head…”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” Piper panted. She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Come on, Golden Boy, let’s get you moving.”

A moment later, Fenris was at her side. “Piper,” he snapped. “There are more coming. We need to run. Now.” 

“Fenedhis,” she cursed. “All right. How did we do?”

“Valorin is dead,” Fenris said bluntly. “Two others are wounded, but not badly. I sent them ahead to the boat already. Sera will cover our retreat.” He darted over to Cullen’s other side and took most of the commander’s weight.

“Damn.” Piper scanned the beach regretfully until she spotted poor Valorin’s body facedown in the sand, then glanced back at Sera. The archer’s ironbark bow was half-cocked, and she was doing a quick little shuffle-step to keep up with them as they hurried away. 

“Wait,” Cullen said blearily. “Stop for a moment, I must–”

“There is no time!” Fenris barked. “They’ll soon be upon us!”

“Come on, Cullen, let’s go,” Piper said encouragingly. “I’ve got your back, it’s all right–”

“I should be armed,” Cullen snapped. He pulled his arm from around Piper’s shoulders and turned around, swaying slightly as he did. “I cannot expect – expect you to guard my back without…”

He trailed off, and Fenris rolled his eyes in total exasperation. “Fasta vass. Stubborn humans,” he complained. He shoved his own sabre into Cullen’s hand, then glared at Piper. “Get him moving. I will aid Sera.”

“Be careful, Fen,” Piper said seriously.

He nodded brusquely, then bolted toward the nearest dead navy soldier and started rummaging for weapons. 

Piper turned to Cullen, who was adjusting his fingers around the bloodstained sabre. “All right, Golden Boy, you’ve got your big sword now. Want to show me how you can use it?” She wiggled her eyebrows and tried not to show her worry. Cullen might want to help, but Piper wasn’t sure how much help he would be when he was having trouble running in a straight line.

“There’s no need for concern, Piper, I am very… very well-trained in swordsmanship,” Cullen said tiredly as they ran along the beach. 

She pressed her lips together. He hadn’t noticed the innuendo in her words or in his own reply. He really <em>was</em> off his game. 

She reached out and took his hand as they ran. No harm in giving him a little extra support. 

Before long, the rowboat was in sight, and Piper’s frustration mounted as she spotted Kaaras and his company fighting a handful of navy guards. Another of her people was dead on the sand, but Kaaras and the others had managed to take down more men than they’d lost. 

“Come on, Cullen, almost there,” she said in the lightest tone she could manage. 

“Is that your boat?” he panted. 

“Yes,” she said. “Just have to fight off your little friends and then we’re home free.”

“If I may,” Cullen said. Then, to Piper’s shock, he bolted toward the boat. 

Piper gaped at him for a split second, then darted after him. Before she could do more than pull out her épée, he’d slashed the backs of two unsuspecting navy soldiers with Fenris’s sabre. 

Kaaras leapt back in alarm, then relaxed slightly as his eyes fell on Piper. “Captain,” he greeted, then spun on his heel to parry another soldier’s blow. “I’m ready to be well shot of this place, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she bit off. “Just need to hang on a minute for Fenris and Sera...” She glanced back in the direction they’d come, relieved when she was Fenris and Sera running toward them. But Sera was shooting arrows every few steps, which boded poorly; that meant the navy soldiers were still in pursuit.

She turned back to her crew, and her heart leapt into her throat. Cullen was on his knees once more, and a navy soldier was crouching beside him. 

She ran toward him with her sword raised, but Cullen held up a hand. “Stop!” he yelled. “It’s all right, Piper, it’s–”

“It’s me, Captain Lavellan,” the soldier said hurriedly. 

Piper stared at him, then lowered her sword. “Rylen? I didn’t recognize you without the goose egg on your forehead.” She darted another look around the beach. The immediate skirmish was done, leaving them with a handful of dead navy soldiers, two dead crew, and four injured. 

<em>Fenedhis,</em> she thought angrily. That was more casualties than she’d wanted. No point beating herself up about it now, though. 

She glanced over at Fenris and Sera, and was relieved to see them only ten paces away. “All right, crew, get your asses on the boat,” she barked. 

Kaaras began swiftly helping the injured onto the boat as Fenris skidded up beside them. “There are more coming,” he panted. “We couldn’t hold them off.”

“Bloody shite-nut tit-heads,” Sera swore. “Waste of arrows, waste of breath!” 

Piper grimaced at Fenris. There was a thin sheet of blood trickling from a shallow gash on his right shoulder. “Are you–”

“It is nothing,” he snapped. “Let’s move.” He grasped Cullen’s arm and hauled him to his feet. 

“Easy, Fen,” Piper said warningly. “He’s hurt.”

“No, it’s – don’t concern yourself with me,” Cullen said soothingly as Rylen and Fenris helped him into the boat.

Piper wasn’t remotely reassured. His speech was slightly slurred, and his bloodied face wasn’t nearly as sweaty as it should be, considering what they’d just been through. 

<em>He needs water.</em> Her anxiety spiked higher still as she looked desperately around the beach. Everyone was on the boat now aside from herself, Sera, and Kaaras.

“Sera! Get that tiny ass of yours on the fucking boat!” she barked. She jerked her head at Kaaras, and they began pushing the boat out into the sea. 

Sera leapt from the shore straight onto the boat, and Piper and Kaaras hopped on board as well, and a moment later they were rowing their way back to the Lady Luck. 

It was not a moment too soon. They were just over ten metres out from the shore when a handful of navy guards came running from the eastern side of the small island. 

Piper sighed in relief. With every strong stroke of her crew’s oars, they moved another two metres from the shore. There was little risk of getting hit by a bullet from the average navy flintlock at this range. 

She turned to face the crew. “Nice work, everyone,” she said. “We’ll celebrate the lives of our lost friends tonight. I’ll break open the casks of the good Tevinter wine.”

There was a general murmur of appreciation from everyone, including Fenris. Piper smiled at them, then carefully stepped over to the bench where Cullen was slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. 

She smiled at Rylen as she sat on the bench across from them. “You’re lucky to be alive, Lieutenant. I almost cut you in half.”

“I appreciate the restraint, Captain Lavellan,” Rylen said dryly. “I’m glad to be alive. We both are.”

<em>I knew something was wrong,</em> Piper thought to herself. <em>I knew it.</em> But she couldn’t feel any satisfaction with her instincts when Cullen was looking this unwell. 

He’d been silent since getting on the boat, and his head was hung low. With an ache of sympathy in her chest, Piper reached beneath the bench and pulled out a waterskin, then popped out the cork and offered it to Cullen. 

“Here you go, Golden Boy,” she said softly. “Drink this. Slowly.” 

He lifted his head and offered her a very feeble smile. “I can only pray that isn’t rum.”

She laughed. “Normal boring water, I’m afraid.” She gently brushed a stray curling lock of hair from his forehead. “Take it, you cheeky ass.”

His smile broadened slightly. He took a small sip from the waterskin and grimaced – likely from how warm it was – but he took another small sip, and Piper watched him carefully as she rifled under the bench once more. 

He was so pale, and his pallor only served to highlight the dark circles under his eyes. She swallowed hard, then handed a second waterskin to Rylen before turning away to look at her crew. The injuries were relatively minor, it seemed; the worst of them was a shallow slash along the length of Loranil’s ribs, and Sera had somehow managed to get herself a black eye, but the others were looking relatively unhurt as they sipped from their waterskins and – yes, a couple bottles of rum. They seemed in relatively good spirits, despite having lost two men on the beach.

Fenris was rowing the boat with three others, and his slashed right shoulder was slowly leaking blood with every pull of the oar. Piper stepped over to him. “Here, let me do that,” she said.

He shook his head, and Piper frowned. “Fen, let me row the fucking boat. Go put pressure on that wound.” 

He shot her an annoyed look, then relinquished the oars so she could take over. Piper sat on the bench and wrapped her fingers around the oar. “How many did we take down?” she asked.

“Eight dead, three wounded,” Fenris grunted. He pressed his hand to his wounded shoulder. 

Kaaras grimaced. “<em>Vashedan.</em> It sounds like you ran into most of them. We took down five in total before you showed up.”

Piper pulled on the oar before shooting Cullen and Rylen a wry glance. “Hope you boys don’t mind us taking out your so-called comrades.”

Cullen silently rubbed his forehead, and Rylen replied. “I can’t blame you for your actions, seeing as you saved our lives,” he said. “Some of them were just following orders, Maker save their souls, but…” He shook his head. “Alrik and Varnell were dirty, that’s certain. I only wish they got their comeuppance.”

“They did,” Cullen said. “Piper killed Alrik. Fenris killed Varnell.” 

She looked at him. His face was still half-hidden in his hand, and it occurred to her that maybe he was angry at her about the navy soldiers’ deaths. Some of them were surely just following orders, after all.

She felt a tiny pang at the thought that he might be angry, but she pushed it aside. She didn’t regret killing them. If she and her people hadn’t shown up right when they had… 

A shiver ran down her neck at the thought. Those bastards dared to lay a hand on Cullen? She’d given them exactly what they deserved. 

A minute later, they pulled up beside the Lady Luck, and a rope ladder rolled down the side of the ship. Piper watched as Rylen helped Cullen onto the rope ladder. Then she took Rylen’s arm and pulled him aside before he could climb the ladder himself. 

“How did you get away from them?” she asked quietly. “If it turns out that you’re a double-crossing rat, you’ll get a blade to the gut, I promise you that.”

Rylen’s eyebrows rose, but to his credit, he didn’t flinch. “Cullen fought them so I could get away,” he said evenly. “They were ready to execute us both. Some trumped-up charge of treason.” 

Piper gaped at him, then laughed out of sheer surprise. “Cullen? Treason? That’s–”

“Completely false, yes,” Rylen said. “Seems that <em>someone</em> didn’t like him poking around at things they’d rather leave untouched.”

“Is this about the blood lyrium?” she asked.

Rylen’s eyebrows rose even higher. “He told you about that?”

<em>Shit,</em> Piper thought. Cullen hadn’t told Rylen that she knew about the blood lyrium problem, it seemed. 

But then that meant... That meant that Cullen had kept his promise not to tell anyone about the Darktown docks. 

A fluttery burst of warmth filled her belly. She carefully bit back a smile and released Rylen’s arm. “I heard him mention it when he was yelling at those assholes back on the beach,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, after all. 

“Ah,” Rylen said. He sighed. “Well… I’ll leave it to the Commander to decide how much he wishes to tell you of that. May I…?” He gestured politely to the rope ladder, which the rest of her crew had already clambered up. 

She waved for him to go ahead, then followed him up the ladder and onto the deck. Most of the crew were milling around, sharing news and bustling around to get the ship ready to weigh anchor. Varric and Dorian were talking quietly nearby, and Cullen was sitting on a bench with Anders seated at his side, while Rynne was seated on another bench beside Fenris. 

Cullen was staring at Rynne with wide, bloodshot eyes. His gaze darted to Piper’s face as she approached. “What is – why is – did you kidnap Lady Rynne?” he blurted.

Rynne burst out laughing. Piper folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s insulting.”

He winced apologetically. “You’re right. I – I apologize, Piper, that was…” He trailed off, then flinched slightly as Anders dabbed the wound over his eyebrow with a clean cloth. “I am sorry. That was… rude of me to… Maker’s breath.” He gently waved Anders off and lowered his head. 

Anders looked up at Piper with a frown. “He’s dehydrated and fatigued. He needs salts and fluids. And food. And sleep.” He scratched his chin. “Miracle he’s still conscious, really.”

He’ll get whatever he needs,” Piper said firmly. She turned to Varric. “Get someone to tidy up Valorin’s and Lia’s bunks. We lost them today,” she said softly. “Cullen and Rylen can take their bunks until–”

“No,” Cullen said suddenly. “I can’t, um. I… I would rather stay on deck, if it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

Piper frowned. “What? Why?”

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, which was starting to curl. Rylen took a small step closer to her. “The Commander has a… dislike of confined spaces,” he said quietly. 

<em>But most ships are confined spaces,</em> she thought. Then she realized with a pang that this was probably one of the reasons he so disliked being at sea. 

She crouched in front of Cullen and gently patted his knee. “Take him to my quarters,” she told Anders. “He can have my bed until he recovers. We’ll figure something else out later.” The captain’s quarters were spacious with large windows; Cullen would likely be comfortable there.

“No,” Cullen protested. “Piper, I can’t, I don’t want to impose–”

She rose to her feet. “You’re on my ship now, Golden Boy,” she announced. “You’ll follow my orders, or we’ll throw you overboard.” 

He looked up at her, then sighed in defeat and allowed Rylen and Anders to help him to his feet, and Piper’s worry only increased. Cullen was usually so stubborn. To see him giving in so quickly…

She nibbled the inside of her cheek as Anders and Rylen took him away. Then Varric patted her elbow. “He’ll be fine,” he told her. “Anders will patch him up. In the meantime, uh… do we need to, you know, get out of here at speed?”

She looked down at him questioningly. Then Dorian spoke up. “What he means is if we should be worried about pursuit by that charming little navy sloop on the other side of the island.”

“Oh,” Piper said. She snorted dismissively. “No. We killed thirteen of their men on the island and injured three more. At most, they’ve got fourteen or fifteen able-bodied fellows left.” She shrugged dismissively. “They’re fucked. But let’s get moving anyway. This place is a shithole.”

Dorian snorted delicately. “I concur wholeheartedly. Swamps have never agreed with me.” 

“You didn’t even come off the ship,” Piper retorted. 

“I know,” he drawled. “Imagine how disagreeable I would have been if I had.”

Piper scoffed and pushed him back toward the officer’s quarters. Varric chuckled and wandered off toward the helm, and Piper turned toward Fenris and Rynne.

Her eyebrows leapt high on her forehead. Rynne was very carefully stitching up the wound on Fenris’s shoulder. More surprisingly still, he was <em>letting</em> her stitch him up. He only permitted Anders to patch him up when his wounds were quite bad indeed – which admittedly didn’t happen often, but still.

Piper’s eyebrows rose even further as she watched them. Rynne’s frowning face was a picture of concentration as she pulled a curved needle and thread through Fenris’s tawny skin. Fenris’s serious gaze, however, was not on his own wounded arm, but on Rynne’s face. 

He glanced up and caught Piper staring, then scowled and looked away. Rynne looked up at his movement, then beamed at Piper. “Anders taught me how to clean and stitch a wound!” she said brightly. “He showed me how the human heart works, too! Fenris is my first patient.” She smiled proudly at him, then her smile faded into worry. “Maker, I hope this doesn’t leave a scar.”

He shrugged irritably with his left shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

The tips of his ears were pink. He wouldn’t look at her or Piper. Rynne, however, was undeterred by his mood; she pulled another careful stitch and smiled charmingly at him. “Well, if it does leave a scar, never fear. All proper ladies are fond of battle scars.”

“I suppose I am fortunate, then, that you are no longer a proper lady,” Fenris said flatly. 

Rynne burst out laughing, and Fenris smirked very slightly before catching Piper’s eye and looking away again with a scowl. 

Piper wrestled her face into a supportive smile instead of the smug smirk that wanted to spill across her face. She wondered how long it was going to take before Fenris admitted his fondness for their lovely new crewmate. He’d never before admitted to liking, well, <em>anything</em>.

“That’s great, Rynne,” she said. “Anders needed a good assistant. Considering how much blood we spill, we’re a pretty squeamish bunch when it comes to putting it back where it belongs.”

“Oh, I’m not squeamish at all!” Rynne said. “Not about the healing bit, at least. Now the spilling bit, however: that’s a different story. We’ll have to see what happens when a certain handsome master-at-arms finally starts teaching me some fighting skills.” She shot Fenris a pointed look as she threaded another stitch through his skin.

He rolled his eyes. “<em>Fasta vass,</em> Hawke, be patient.”

“Oh Fenris, haven’t you realized yet?” she purred. “There isn’t a patient bone in my body.” 

He scoffed and looked away again. Rynne winked at Piper, and Piper smiled broadly at her before turning away. 

“Weigh anchor in two minutes!” she bellowed to the ship at large. “We head for Llomeryn, and tonight, we drink to our fallen friends!”

The crew called their assent and their approval, and Piper strode toward her cabin, throwing a quick wave of thanks to Varric, who was manning the helm.

She slipped through the door to her quarters. Cullen was sitting on the velvet-upholstered couch with a stein in his hands, and Anders was standing over him with his arms folded. 

He looked up and nodded at Piper. “Once he finishes that infusion, he can sleep,” Anders told her.

She nodded and squeezed his shoulder in thanks, then carefully settled herself on the couch beside Cullen. 

Cullen looked up at Anders. “What is in this infusion?” he asked.

“It’s a mixture of beer, fruit juice, elfroot, and some melted beef fat from the dinner drippings,” Anders said. 

“I see,” Cullen said slowly. 

Piper poked his arm playfully. “Secret pirate recipe. Drink up. It’s good for you.” She looked up at Anders. “Does he have any other injuries?” 

“Surprisingly few, all things considered,” Anders said. “Some scratches, some bruises that’ll be sore for the next week or so. It’s mostly the dehydration you need to worry about.” He folded his arms and eyed Cullen critically. “You’re lucky you’re not delirious, you know. I’d expect someone in your condition to be seeing dogs made of bubbles chasing their tails around a maypole made of wiggling caterpillars.”

Piper stared at Anders. “Well, that was a weirdly colourful example.”

“What can I say? I’m a colourful doctor,” Anders drawled. He nodded in approval as Cullen gulped down the last of his infusion, then looked at Piper. “More fluids,” he said. “Half a beer for every cup of water he drinks. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

“Thanks, doc,” Piper said. Anders tipped her a casual salute, then left her quarters and closed the door behind him. 

Piper turned back to Cullen. He was slumped on the couch with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He looked tired but relaxed, and Piper contentedly watched the slow beat of his pulse in his throat for a moment. 

Then she cleared her throat and tore her eyes away. “I hope you’re not mad about us killing your navy mates today,” she said. 

He lifted his head and opened his eyes, and Piper pushed on. “Maybe some of them were just following orders, but they were bad orders. No one should have to follow orders that force them to do bad things.”

Cullen licked his dry lips. “And if you don’t realize the orders are bad until it is too late?”

Piper shrugged, then kicked off her boots. “Usually I get a gut feeling right away if something is a bad idea or not. But maybe I’m just lucky to have great judgment.” She grinned at him and folded her legs up on the couch. 

He smiled slightly, but his expression was sad. She sobered and tilted her head. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Aside from the fact that your asshole comrades betrayed you and tried to kill you.” She grimaced. “Guess I just answered that one for myself.”

He chuckled softly, then ran a hand through his charmingly curling hair. “I am simply… astounded,” he said. 

She raised her eyebrows. “By what?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he met her eyes once more. “I did not expect to survive this journey,” he said quietly. “I… truly, Piper, I thought… I thought I was going to die on Estwatch.”

A chill ran down her back at the very thought. She shifted slightly closer to him. “What, you didn’t expect a dastardly pirate to come and help?” she joked gently. 

“Truthfully, I didn’t expect anyone to help,” he said.

His voice was soft but matter-of-fact, and it broke her heart. To think he’d been on that awful island expecting to die, expecting no one to come to his aid even though he was just trying to do the right thing about the blood lyrium… 

He sounded so resigned. Worse yet, he sounded so lonely. 

She took his hand, but he spoke before she could. “Why <em>did</em> you come?” he asked. “In fact, I – how did you even know where to come?”

“Rynne told us where you’d been posted,” she said. “Her brother told her.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. Then his eyes widened and he sat up slightly. “<em>Rynne</em>. She – why is she with you? You didn’t say. Did she…” His eyes widened even further. “She ran away, didn’t she? But that means…” He frowned at her suddenly. “You returned to Kirkwall,” he accused. “Even though I warned you how dangerous it was?”

Piper laughed and ran her hands through her hair. “Oh please, when has a little danger ever put me off? All it does is add a little spice. A teaser, if you will.” She winked at him. 

His cheeks went pink, and Piper grinned at him, pleased that he was finally noticing her innuendo once more. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, I… that is – er.” He cleared his throat, then frowned at her again. “It’s not – you shouldn’t have… and to take a citizen of Kirkwall with you—”

“She’s not a citizen of Kirkwall anymore,” Piper interrupted firmly. “She’s a member of the Lady Luck now. Part of the ship, part of the crew.” She poked him playfully in the chest. “You could be too, if you wanted. I can always use a man of your… size.” She ran a salacious look along his body. 

His face turned bright red. “A kind offer, but I… I don’t think… not appropriate,” he muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back on the couch to close his eyes once more. “It’s a lot to think about, and…”

She chuckled. “It’s all right, Cullen. I was joking,” she assured him. Although now that she thought of it… 

What if Cullen <em>did</em> join the Lady Luck? She knew he felt trapped, even if he couldn't admit it. She knew that someone important in Kirkwall was plotting to kill him. What if he did join her crew instead of going back to Kirkwall? 

The thought of Cullen joining the Lady Luck spiked a silly little leap of excitement in her chest, but she forced herself to ignore it. Cullen would never join the crew. He was too rule-bound, too by-the-book. He might be willing to acknowledge Piper as a friend, but for Cullen himself to become a pirate… 

It was too far-fetched. Best to keep her statement as a joke. She patted his shoulder and rose from the couch. “You really should get some rest. Now–”

He opened his eyes. “Wait, please,” he hurriedly. “I…” He swallowed. “You needn’t leave.”

A rush of tenderness filled her chest. He must really have been feeling alone these past few days if he was asking her to stay. “I wasn’t going to leave,” she said gently. “I was just going to tell you to get that handsome ass off the couch and into my bed.”

Once again, a charming flush spilled across his cheeks, and Piper threw her head back and laughed. “Oh Cullen, not like that,” she chuckled. <em>Not anyway, at least,</em> she added in the filthy privacy of her mind. “I just mean to sleep. You really fucking need it.”

“Oh,” he said blankly. “No, of course, I – but… er, no,” he blustered. “I – there’s no need. I will sleep here.” He settled back on the couch and yawned into his hand, then snugly folded his arms.

Piper frowned. “What? No. Seriously, you can use my bed.”

He shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he said softly. “You have done more than enough for me. It would be dishonourable to steal your bed as well.”

She snickered. “Dishonourable? What is this, some kind of duel between Orlesian chevaliers?”

He didn’t reply. She looked at him quizzically. 

His eyes were closed, and his face was relaxed. He was asleep. In the space of about three seconds, he’d fallen asleep. 

She bit her lips to stop herself from laughing, then tiptoed over to her bed and picked up one of the many woven throws. She carefully arranged it over Cullen’s sleeping form. 

He didn’t move. Piper tiptoed around the room, fetching a quill and a pot of ink and the captain’s logbook before settling on the couch beside him to keep him company in case he awoke. 

She carefully tucked her feet up on the couch, then opened the logbook and prepared to write about the day’s events. Then she remembered that she hadn’t answered Cullen’s question: his question about <em>why</em> she’d come to Estwatch in the first place. 

She admired his sleeping face. His breathing was deep and slow, and his colour was already looking better, though she suspected it would take more than a single night’s sleep to wipe away the dark rings beneath his eyes. 

The truth was that she’d come to Estwatch for the same reason that she kept coming back to Kirkwall. She carefully shifted the captain’s logbook to the floor, then edged closer to Cullen’s peacefully sleeping form. 

“I like you, you handsome silly human,” she whispered. “Very much, in fact.” She leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. 

He sighed quietly in his sleep. When Piper pulled away, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. 

She smiled to herself. She smoothed a lock of golden hair back from his forehead, then settled back on the other side of the couch and picked up her logbook.

Cullen would probably want to be dropped back off in Kirkwall once he’d recovered. But for now, he was here, and she would enjoy this time with him while she could. 

For now, Piper would enjoy a moment of peace with her Golden Boy. 

[midnightprelude]

A little FenHawke ficlet.

I pulled together this little piece inspired by the wonderful @lethendralis-paints. She’s made loads of gorgeous portraits of her wonderful Eris Hawke and Fenris. This one in particular caught my eye and I couldn’t help putting together a bit of writing for them. 🥰

Fenris had originally planned to look around for herbs and spices. Eris had sent him on a mission to increase their stocks. He had found a patch of elfroot and some embrium. Eventually, the shade underneath a willow had become too tempting and in short order he found himself on the ground, leaning his silver hair upon its trunk. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he unclasped his sheath from his back, resting his greatsword in the shadows adjacent to him. Stretching his legs before him, he removed his cloak, using it as a pillow to create a barrier between his head and the hard wood beneath. He had not realized how tired he was. He allowed his eyelids to close heavily, sighing at the moment of peace.

I am far too old to be this exhausted.

He chuckled. He did not, in fact, actually know how old he was. His body had barely begun to register signs of aging. Smile lines were just beginning to show near his eyes, which he attributed to entirely too much time with Eris. The woman had changed him, slowly at first, and then incredibly rapidly. It had taken time, but his friendship with her had eventually blossomed into something more. He had never entirely thought he had deserved her kindness, but she gave it so freely. Not just to him. She loved everyone she met and would often drag the whole lot of them along to fight to the death for a friend she had met the day before.

I should be grateful, given how that was precisely how we met.

Eris Hawke was exactly the balm his soul had needed. He had never had the opportunity to trust another person before meeting her. He was running, searching, hiding, killing. Friendless, he had loved no one before Eris. At least had no memory of it, which was as close to not having it to make no difference. She pulled him along on his adventures and soon he became intrinsically woven into the family she had created—Varric with his unending japes, Isabella with her incessant flirting, Merrill with her wide eyes, Aveline with her stern glanced, Anders with his righteous anger. He found himself loving them all in turn, even when they could not be more different from himself.

Eris found a group of random, dissimilar strangers and from them built a home. Such was her nature.

He was the luckiest of all of them—she had chosen to make a slightly different home with him. They had moved further south than he had ever found himself prior, into the wilds of Ferelden. Nearly back to the home she had fled before their meeting.

They had decided to create a home for themselves, away from Kirkwall. They could not stay—not with Hawke’s unfortunate involvement in Anders’s plot to start the rebellion. They were too well-known in the Marches. The marks on his skin made him an easy target for captors and Hawke’s face was plastered across the cities. No, Ferelden was safer. Even with the rebellion boiling over into the surrounding areas. He was no stranger to fighting for what was his. But now, he had other people to consider.

The thought had barely registered before he was accosted by something small landing on his stomach.

“Papa! I found you!”

He started, reaching across for his sword, pushing it out of her reach.

Yes, he had others to consider now. Eris could handle herself in a fight. She wasn’t his true weakness.

This little one is.

He scooped up Ariadna Hawke into his arms, nuzzling her chubby cheeks against his own. She was nearly four years old and more trouble than she had a right to be. Always sneaking off and nearly giving her mother a heart attack. It was a daily occurrence in the Hawke house.

“Sweetling, were you not supposed to be learning your letters with your mother?”

The girl laughed, her cheeks rosy and smile easy. She had known nothing but love and it showed in her every movement.

“Maman had fallen asleep against the book and I haven’t been outside all day. And I didn’t know where you were! Were you playing a game?”
He laughed at her, kissing her head. “Yes, and that game was supposed to be finding some peace and quiet.”

She held her pudgy little hands together, grinning. “Oh, we can look together! I love finding things.”

He sighed. He could not fault her for her curiosity. She was the direct descendant of Eris Hawke, after all. Her mother couldn’t sleep if she was in the middle of reading something particularly interesting and would stay up all night trying to reach the end. He ran his hand through his hair thinking of her.

Ariadna had already moved from his lap and was pulling his sword from the sheath.

He grabbed it from her before she could cut herself. His voice was uncharacteristically stern with her. “Ari, what have we said about that? Are you supposed to touch my sword?”

The girl looked suddenly ashamed, her eyes suddenly growing interested in the leaves coating the ground.

“Ari… I did ask you a question…”

She sighed, huffing. “I know, papa. I just want to be able to protect you.”

He laughed at the thought of his tiny child brandishing his sword against intruders. She was less than a third of its size at her current height. “Ariadna, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what maman said…”

His ears twitched, cocking his head in surprise. “What exactly did your mother say?”

She frowned, shuffling back to his lap. “I heard her talking to Uncle Varric… I did not hear what he said, but maman said something about Templars and… magisshions?”

He laughed. “Probably ‘magisters’, sweet.”

“Magisters. Yes, she said that between the Templars and the magisters, we would have trouble keeping you safe.”

He frowned. He had not thought that anyone from Tevinter would still be looking for him. Nor had he realized that the fighting was getting so close to them. He was surprised that Eris had not told him immediately. Though, she may have been waiting for the opportune time.

“Ari, perhaps it is time that you learn to protect yourself. Though, let’s not start with my sword. I’ll have something made for you that’s a bit more to your size.”

She giggled, pulling his hair. “Are you going to tell maman? She won’t be happy about it.”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to keep it from her for longer than a minute, I believe. We can tell her. She’ll understand. And I’ll teach you to carry your own blade.” He grabbed her hand, which had been wandering back towards his sword. “Ari! Not mine! That has not changed.”

The little girl sighed, cuddling up to his shoulder, resting her soft brown hair against his neck. He held her there, tightly.

Yes, I am the luckiest of our companions.

He held his daughter to his chest and they both enjoyed the summer breeze blowing through the willow branches together, eventually drifting off into an easy sleep.