Against the Tide
Chapter 01: Manipulative by Any Other Name
The Fereldan refugees were quite the sight.
Most were dirty, starved, and carried nothing but the clothes on their backs. A few, who had probably been wealthy before running scared from their homeland, held small sacks of precious belongings to their chests; or, in some cases, not so precious. A man stepping off one of the larger boats hoarded no less than twenty pounds worth of aged wine slung over his shoulder. He glared venomously at anyone he passed, as if daring them to ask for a gulp. Another refugee, a woman with such a sour look on her face you'd think she'd slept with the mabari the entire voyage over, smuggled in massive amounts of gaudy jewelry she had stuffed into her generous *ahem* bosom (she was mugged not a day after docking).
The Guard did its best to accommodate the earlier arrivals- most were allowed free passage into Kirkwall without issue. But then they kept arriving. Hundreds docked week after week, and quickly there was simply not enough room for them. Lucky ones bought their way through, but as days passed, bribery became too expensive a solution for most. Ships left as quickly as they arrived. So the refugees were stuck, camping within the Gallows under the chains and harrowing statues. It was a filthy, sickly, hopeless atmosphere. It was almost pitiful, watching new arrivals enter the city with aspirations of a new life, only to be shot down after not a step on dry land.
I watched the entire mess snowball out of control. I had no choice, really. Seven goddamn years had gone into preparing, to getting where I was, and I couldn't- no, I wouldn't mess it up now. And if that meant waiting three months in the Gallows, I would.
Because I couldn't afford to miss their arrival.
"Another day without word. What will happen to us? There's no food, no water-"
"I'm hungry, papa. When can we go back home?"
"I can't take much more of this. Why won't they let us in?"
"If they would just let me into the city, I could-"
After a while, the complaints blended together. They transformed into a sort of hum that riddled the air. It was almost maddening. I swear I had to stop myself from bashing my head against the walls at one point- though the blood would have added some much needed color to the place.
Days passed, in and out, and I waited. The Guard, for the most part, paid me no mind as I stalked the docks. I'm sure I bothered some of them- a stranger in a hooded cloak that stood still by the water every day must have raised a few eyebrows. But I wasn't causing any trouble, so they begrudgingly let me be. The occasional attempted riot kept them busy. There's nothing like potential chaos to keep authority occupied. Especially homeless, mud-riddled, dog-smelling chaos.
The air was depressing, to say the least. Makeshift tents littered the area; people begged or sat emptily, their hollow eyes hungrily following anyone who looked well off enough to buy bread. It was cold enough to make them shiver at night, but warm enough to make them sweat during the day. In short, it was miserable. And misery brought desperation. I had to break a few fingers to keep the pickpockets off me- and for once, I was happy about my five years in Antiva. Compared to the thieves there, these people were little more than kids trying to make it at the grown-ups table, holding their silverware backwards with their elbows on the fine china.
The thought of the assassin riddled nation left a bad taste in my mouth, so I pushed the memories away. The past was past, and I had to stay focused on the present. The present and the future- the future I hoped to change. The future I had spent the past seven years yearning to see, to live, and to witness. Because I knew what was going to happen before it happened. I had known ever since I found myself in the world of Thedas all those years ago. Because I wasn't from this world, no matter how much of a home it had come to be.
But the thought of my past life (because that's all it was: the past) also made my mouth go dry. I'd already spent the proper time mourning it, and any thought of its modern marvels only served to make my heart sink. The tears had already been shed. The yearning for it already spent- and I had bigger fish to fry.
I had goals, ones I'd spent countless hours planning out. I had things I was goingto change. The past years; the disgusting things I had done, the training, the life I had led- I had bared through it all with these goals in mind, knowing I had to be strong enough to face them.
Accompany Hawke During His/Her Rise to Power
Prevent the Chantry Explosion, or
Save the Grand Cleric's Life
Save the Life of Leandra Hawke
Prevent the Death of Saemus Dumar
Save as Many People as Possible During the Qunari Invasion
Keep that Damn Lyrium Idol out of Meredith's Hands
Prevent Bethany/Carver from Joining the Wardens/Circle/Templars
…not necessarily in that order; and other miscellaneous things if the need arose. My basis, of course, relied on Hawke being an absolute paragon to the point I wouldn't have to meddle in the affairs of his/her companions. Those goals, along with everything I knew, everything I remembered, were scribbled down and tucked away safely in the leather-bound book holstered to my hip.
With a sigh, I stared out at the water, and caught sight of an incoming ship. My heart beat a little faster, as it always did, and I took position to watch its passengers unload.
I had thought about joining the Warden.
I had considered it- very carefully, in fact. But my mind kept hitting this one road block:
The Warden got messed up in some serious shit.
That was not to say that Hawke didn't have his/her fair share of nightmare-inducing misadventures, but they didn't involve cross country travels, underground tentacle monstrosities, werewolves, an army of undead, killing Flemeth (sort of), talking darkspawn, and, well, being dogged as betrayers and King-killers the entire adventure. Also, if I had decided to "accidently" bump into the Warden, I would have been too well-known afterward to run with Hawke. Oh, and the idea of being potentially tainted after every fight did weigh on the mind.
So I didn't.
When I saw them arrive, after waiting for so long, I wasn't sure what I had been expecting. Over the years, I may have built up an image of the Champion Kirkwall in my head that no one, not even Hawke herself, could have lived up to.
Because the small quintuplet I watched step off the arriving ship was dirty, disheveled, and rather hopeless looking. If I hadn't been expecting them, they would have passed me by, blending seamlessly with all the other filthy Fereldans. Nevertheless, my heart somehow managed to flutter at the sight of them:
Hawke was pretty. She walked with a sort of skip in her step that set her apart from others. Her hair was dark, short, and she sported these marvelous, piercing blue eyes that flicked over the heads of everyone around her. She was also a mage, if the existence of Carver by her side was anything to go by. He was slimmer than I remembered, though a two-week haul over seas did tend to shave a few pounds off a person. His hair was also dark, but he lacked the blue eyes- a shame. The sight of Leandra made my stomach clench- I couldn't look at her too long without seeing the thing she would be mutilated into.
And then there was Aveline. I didn't know what to feel about the ginger haired woman. She was tall and retained quiet a bit of muscle despite the voyage- and walked so straight with her head held so high that you'd think something was stuck up there. She gave off an air of confidence, but it was different than the one that radiated from Hawke. The mage's was playful, mischievous- Aveline's was strict and honest. I smirked. I was dealing with a snarky mage Hawke. Perfect.
In retrospect, I was being creepy- watching them like I was. Creepiness not lessoned by the fact that I swept after them as they moved through the crowds. Hawke demanded to speak with someone in charge, and was directed to Captain Ewald, a man who I knew frustratingly little about. I had no idea how he came to loose his position as to Jeven, only to be just as swiftly replaced by Aveline. Perhaps Jeven had a roll in Ewald's leave? I could only speculate- something I wasn't fond of. When you knew as much as I did, being out of any loop tended to grate the nerves.
The shouts of the Fereldan deserters could be heard the instant I stalked the four into the open courtyard. Ah. So they were those deserters. There were so many that filtered into Kirkwall that it was hard to tell; this particular bunch had been barking up a storm for roughly three days. Tensions were threatening to boil over, and Hawke was going to tip over that particular pot. A habit in the making, as it were. I tried not to smile.
They were all crowded around Ewald, who seemed quite calm for a man surrounded by half a dozen armed and pissed military men. Either that or he had one hell of a poker face- or, actually, considering what happened in Kirkwall on any given day, this sort of thing shouldn't have phased the guy. Or maybe the crazy didn't start flowing until Hawke came by and poked it with a long stick.
As tones began to escalate, I took a deep breath, and counted to ten. Here goes nothing.
If Marian Hawke hadn't known better, she'd say the world was against her. First the Blight, then…Bethany, and now she was stuck, very annoyed, in the middle of some Templar infested hunting ground of a city. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of living in some fancy estate once they got in; and taking a very long and very warm shower. Then sleeping in bed. With pillows. Fluffy ones with lace made from the sweat and tears of some overworked seamstress in Orlais.
"What? You're going to let them through?"
"I didn't say anything about-"
"That's it! We've carving our way into this city whether-"
If the apostate had blinked she would have missed it. In a flash of metal, a blade struck the leader of the deserters' head. He collapsed before he could even reach for his long sword. Silence followed as his lackeys guffawed, nearly tripping over their own jaws.
"Let's nip this in the bud before it gets messy, eh?"
A tone, light and aloof wafted through the air. A cloaked woman swayed toward them, her hood drawn up to cover her face. With bored flare, she stepped on the man's back and yanked the dagger from his skull, whipping blood across the stone. On closer inspection, it was a marvelous blade, made from silverite, but the woman tucked it away on her leg holster before Marian could get a better look.
The woman eyed the remaining deserters. Her accent was strange; Marian couldn't place it. "If you keep your mouths open any longer you might just catch some flies."
They continued to gape, all except the second in command, who snapped his jaw shut and scowled. "We'll find our own way into the city. You aren't even worth our time."
And they left, his gang on his heels, not looking too happy with the decision. The Captain chuckled. "Well, at least they're out of my hair."
"For the moment." Aveline spoke up. "Problems like that don't just go away."
"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine." The newcomer drawled. "With any luck, they'll wise up and catch a ship out of here- maybe he was the brains of the little organization. Even if they're miniscule, they're better than nothing, I suppose."
Aveline scowled. Marian hummed happily, glad to have the Captian's attention once again. "Good to see that problem took care of itself. Now, about our uncle…"
The Captain frowned, and the stranger made a soft chocking noise. "Gamlen, right? Look, I don't have the time to fetch him personally. But seeing as your friend here just got rid of those thugs, I can look into sending a guard to get him. Alright? It's the best I can manage."
"Better than nothing." Carver shrugged.
"Right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to have a word with my Lieutenant." The Captain left, back toward the docks to no doubt complain about why the deserts hadn't been dealt with sooner.
The newcomer spoke up again. "Sorry, did you say Gamlen?"
"Gamlen Amell. Uncle dearest is a noblemen in the city." Marian said. "Hopefully, he can get us in."
"Well," the woman said uneasily. "I may be wrong, but there's only one Gamlen Amell in all of Kirkwall, and he doesn't have two sovereigns to rub together. And if he ever did, he'd either spend it all at the Blooming Rose or lose it to a peg-legged tavern wench in a game of diamondback." She laughed, and then stopped. "Uh. Sorry. No offence."
"That can't be right." Marian looked over at her mother, who looked very confused. "Father must have left him something."
"Like I said, I could be wrong. Maybe the guy has an evil twin. Just thought I'd say something." She shrugged. "I didn't catch your names."
"No, you didn't." Carver snapped, and Marian rolled her eyes. "What? We have no clue who she is either."
"Of course. Where are my manners?" She mock bowed. "The name's Adrian. Former…treasure hunter."
"Treasure hunter?" Marian smirked.
"Sounds like a fancy name for a thief." Aveline crossed her arms with a snarl. "Or a pirate."
The newly dubbed Adrian visibly twitched. "I didn't know you were so choosey about your company, oh high and mighty disheveled refugees. Perhaps I'll be on my way."
"Perhaps you should."
"Now, now," Marian held her hands up, a gesture of peace. "We can play nice. I'm Marian Hawke. This is my brother, Carver, and my mother. The scowly disapproving woman is Aveline."
"A pleasure." Adrian shook her hand. "Hold on,"
The thief pulled her hood down to reveal the face of woman in her early twenties. Her hair was light and frayed, braided tightly and draped over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark, complementing her tan skin. The biggest flaw of her features was no doubt the large, jagged scar that ran down her cheek and across her lips. Marian guessed she must have picked the wrong pocket somewhere along the way. Adrian blew a lingering strand of straw-colored hair from her face and smirked.
"Now I can see you, and you can see me." She grinned. "I take it you all want in the city like everyone else? The best of luck to you. I hope you have plenty of coin to grease the necessary palms- the cheapest rate I know of is two dozen sovereigns a head."
"That much?" Leandra gasped. "Even with the estate…"
Marian watched the thief withdraw something from under her cloak- a small coin purse. She tossed it to her. "Here. It's not enough to get you in, but at least you won't starve while you wait."
"Do you normally throw money at random strangers?" Marian asked.
Adrian shrugged. "Call it: my good deed for the day. Or week. Or, hell, probably the year."
"Should we accept it? It's probably stolen." Aveline said.
"All money has been stolen at some point." Adrian shrugged. "And hey, if you do make it in the city, you can keep an eye out for me. Maybe return the favor?"
"So now we're indebted. Great." Carver groaned.
Adrian pulled he hood up. "Look. Spend it. Toss it. Hell, melt it down and make some nice silverware. I have an appointment to get to- in the city."
"Then what were you doing out here?" Aveline pressed.
"I enjoy the depressing scenery." She turned her back and began to walk off. "Look me up once you're in."
It was only when I graced Hightown that I managed to relax. Things had gone surprisingly smoothly.
The entire purpose of the "coincidental" meeting was to establish a tie with Hawke. The money was a simple token to bolster trust and form bridges in the making. She now knew who I was and that I had "taken pity" on "complete strangers" out of the "kindness of my heart." And she owed me a favor; one I had plans to cash in when the time was right.
All in all, a success. Now I had a year to burn.
(A/N): There. First chapter outta the way. And, in case you didn't notice, this is an SI fic. As in, chick from our world falls into a video game.
I have a plan with this story. There will be occasional flashbacks to explain just what my SI had been doing in the seven years before DA2, how she became a thief, and what connections she has formed; these connections will form her "companion quests." So, I implore you to give it a chance. The year between canon events in Kirkwall won't take more than a chapter, so don't worry.
I want to write a romance as well. Who would you like to see paired up with my SI? Not Fenris, of course, he's Hawke's in this fic. Feel free to hold off on suggestions until more chapters come out, though.
Also, please review if you can. I'd appreciate feedback.
No. Seriously. The button is right there.
