**Disclaimer: There will be descriptions of violence/blood/smut in future chapters. I will be marking those chapters as MA when they appear**
Sulenera Lavellan had been midway through shelving her groceries when she heard the reporter's voice interrupt the show Sera was watching with breaking news:
"Chantry officials are actively investigating the latest defacement of property performed by the underworld vigilante, Fen'Harel."
She nearly dropped the carton of eggs in her hands at the sound of the Dread Wolf's name. She spun on her heel leaving the eggs on the counter and the fridge agape as she sped towards the island Sera was perched on. In one smooth movement, she hoisted herself up to sit beside Sera. The T.V. was visible from the small living room attached to their relatively small kitchen, which made their kitchen island a prime spot to lounge on. Sulenera pursed her lips as the camera panned up the front steps of the renowned art museum in the western sector of the city. The shot continued to roll up past the intricate double doors, revealing the menacing sigil of the Dread Wolf glowing in brilliant shades of red and black on the giant window above the grand entrance. Looping lines combined with drastic angles coalesced together to create the wolf's head, with its mouth split open in feral smile. Sulenera noted that the line art was spray painted impeccably.
"As you can see, the vandal has inscribed his infamous "Wolf" insignia, the telltale sign of the Dread Wolf's handiwork."
A twinge of jealousy ran through Sulenera, her line art was good, but it was nothing in comparison to Fen'Harel's.
"Thus far we have no leads concerning the motives of this vandalized property graffitied by the mysterious masked man posing as an ancient elven deity. Was this a lone act of rebellion as we've seen countless times before, or perhaps a deeper connected networking attempt by the Pantheon? More news as the situation develops at 11—"
"Oh boy, more news about elfy shite. They mentioned your gang specifically this time." Came the muffled, sarcastic response from Sera, who was downing a bowl of cereal.
"This…is not good." Sulenera mused, her brow creasing as she considered the jolting news. Suddenly the phone in her pocket began vibrating.
"Are you workin' wit him now then?"
"Hmm?" She pulled the phone out and looked at the caller, Falon'Din.
"With the Dread Wolf, please tell me yer not. Andraste's tits, 'Era I swear…"
"We're not. This wasn't planned." The phone kept buzzing, incessantly. "I have to take this."
"Lemme guess, your lead callin' you in, yeah?"
"Hah, he wishes." She said before hoping off the island and heading out to her room, shelving the eggs and closing the fridge on the way.
"It's the ex, inint?" She bellowed from the kitchen
Sulenera rolled her eyes as she pressed the accept call button, "Nydhis, I saw the report."
"This could not have come at a worse time." An aggravated deep voice huffed from the other end of the call. "Of course the fucking Dread Wolf would intervene the day of our big raid."
"Did you honest expect anything less of him?" Sulenera snapped back.
"He's forcing our hand!"
Once in her room, Sulenera threw open her closet. She grabbed her enchanted leather vest, sheer black long sleeve shirt, and sturdy boots. She slipped the knee-high boots over her foot wraps and laced them up as she continued to talk.
"That's kind of his thing. He allies with no one and meddles in everyone's affairs. Pantheon affiliated or not. It just so happens he's turned his attention on us this time. It was bound to happen again."
"Do not remind me of last time." Nydhis quipped, clearly still sore about what happened a few months prior.
Sulenera smirked, knowing he couldn't see her. Fen'Harel single handedly thwarted the gang Nydhis controlled, the order of Falon'Din, in their vain attempt to expand territory. Fen'Harel claimed Falon'din's order was not ready for that kind of expansion.
"Fine, I won't rub it in. Just remember, his motives are never clear. We don't know for sure if he's forcing us into anything. He could be sending us a warning. Never underestimate him, and never assume you know what he's up to."
"Yeah, yeah. Ever true to the trickster lore." He grumbled over the line. "Stop defending him, he's not our friend."
"I'm not defending him."
Sulenera would never admit it to Nydhis' face, but the Dread Wolf had been right to stop him. She had tried to talk Nydhis down from his power trip, but he wouldn't listen to her, or reason. They still hadn't resolved the issues that had led to their messy break up, so most conversations between them were strained to begin with. Sulenera was surprised that he even reached out to her now; they still were not on the best of terms. Old habits die hard she supposed.
It took the intervention of Fen'Harel to finally humble him and his order. Nydhis and his loyal gang members devoted to Falon'Din weren't ready for that kind of power play. Not yet. And everyone could see it except for them. Fen'Harel was there to prevent him from failing, even if Nydhis couldn't see it that way
"Do you think Elgar'nan will still have us move tonight?" Nydhis said, interrupting Sulenera's lingering thoughts on the Dread Wolf.
"My honest answer?" Sulenera sighed, "Yes. I think he will. This display is only going to piss him off."
After a beat, he addressed her properly, "Prepare your daughters then, Mythal."
"I'll worry about mine, you worry about yours, Falon'din. See you at the crossroads"
The line clicked off and Sulenera sent out a mass message to her Daughters of Mythal before pocketing her sleek phone. She finished dressing her gear and grabbed a silver cylindrical staff grip off a wall hanger, hooking it onto her belt. She caught her reflection in the floor length mirror beside her bed.
Her leather leggings clung snugly to her thighs, thick with muscle. She admired the way her all black gear contrasted with her white vallaslin, the branching lines of the all-mother spreading across her forehead, cheeks, and chin. She also liked the way her gear seemed to compliment her figure, even if it wasn't intended.
She quickly raked her fingers through the golden waves of her hair, pulling it back to reveal the shaved sides of her head. She was about to pin it back, but couldn't find any of her pins. Damnit, she thought, as her sharp emerald eyes searched the top of her dresser. I must have left them backstage at work. She let her hair cascade back down as she made a mental note to stop at the speakeasy at some point the next day. She yanked her maroon cloak off the back of her bedroom door before closing it shut, returning to the kitchen. She saw Sera strapping a quiver of arrows on her back when she entered.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sulenera asked, crossing her arms.
"Goin' wit you, duh."
"Sera since when did you become interested in Pantheon affairs. I don't know if they'll let you stay."
"Wot, can't get in if I'm not part of the gang?"
"Well, technically yes. That's a requirement."
"But yer like one of the big people in the damn thing! And besides, don't want you goin'lone. "
Sulenera knew bring Sera with her to a pantheon gathering when everyone was strung out by Fen'Harel's public warning sign would only further add to the chaos that meeting would be in, but judging by the look on Sera's face, she wasn't leaving without her. And Sera had a point; Sulenera was a leader in the Pantheon, her being Mythal and all.
"Fine."
Exiting her apartment, she took a sharp left towards the stairwell. She heard Sera following closely behind.
"So let me get this, you lead yer own gang of little people, but your almost the leader of another?"
"Sera I've explained how the Pantheon operates to you before."
"Yeah but it was boring and elfy and we were eating." Sera said dramatically.
Sulenera shouldered open the door to the stairwell and began the five floor descent down to the ground level. It couldn't hurt to explain it to her one more time.
"Yes, I am the second in command of the "Pantheon", the order that organizes and oversees all the elven gangs in the undercity. Our titles are assigned by which gang we are in charge of. For example, because I lead the Daughters of Mythal, the order dedicated to the ways of justice and protection, I am referred to as Mythal."
Sulenera paused her speech to see if Sera was paying attention, but continued to move down the stairs at a rapid pace. For once Sera actually was. Perhaps the Fen'Harel scare was enough catch Sera's interest after all.
"There is one gang dedicated to every elven God, and the gang leaders are given the title of the God their order represents within the Pantheon, except for Fen'Harel. Who operates alone, and has done so since before the Pantheon's formation. You follow?"
They reached the bottom of the stairwell and slipped out into the evening twilight. Sulenera pulled her vest tighter to fight off the crisp autumn chill that had settled in.
"Sounds complicated. So you're Mythal, someone is Elgar'nan, and someone else is Ghilan'nain and so on? And they each have their order of little people. Kind of like the Jennies, but more organized." Sera pursed her lips as amusement flashed in her eyes, "Which one does your ex-man thing lead?"
Sulenera rolled her eyes at the change of subject as they turned a corner, "His name is Nydhis, he leads the Order of Falon'Din. And it's ex-mate, thank you."
"Weird. Was Elgar'nan pissed you dated Falon'Din?" Sera cackled, speeding up to match Sulenera pace as they headed downtown.
"We don't follow the lore that closely Sera."
Sera followed Sulenera to the entrance to the subway and descended down a few steps behind.
"So why are we takin' the subway? I thought the Crossroads was in the fade?"
"We're not actually taking the subway, I know a shortcut to the fade through the tunnels here." Sulenera replied, weaving her way through the night crowd waiting for their trains to take them away.
The fade was the slang name given to the undercity by its inhabitants, located in lower bowls in the city of Thedas. All gangs had their headquarters deep in the pits beneath the world above. Sulenera made her way to the edge of the track and hopped down. Her cloak, a deep blood red in low lighting, billowed behind her.
"Wot are you DOING?" Sera squeaked, but still jumped down after her a half a second later.
"Just follow me and stay close to the wall"
The two elves slunk the shadows of the subway tunnel, following the barely lit track for a few hundred feet. Abruptly, Sulenera dipped away into a crevice in the wall. Sera peered in after but even with the enhanced vision that came with being an elf, she couldn't see anything. She recognized the aura emanating from the sliver in the wall; it reeked of the magical presence of the fade.
"I can't see shite." An involuntary shiver wracked through the rogue, she never had liked venturing into the fade. Magic creeped her out, and going into all mage gang meeting was beginning to seem less and less like a great idea. "On second thought, I'm not going in."
Veilfire abruptly burst forth from an outstretched palm, causing Sera to flinch. She could make out Sulenera's features through the dancing green firelight. With a nod of her head, Sulenera beckoned Sera to follow her.
'Nah, I'll stand guard."
"Suit yourself. Stay in the shadows."
"Yeah wotever Mom." Sera snarked, drawing her bow from her back and prepared to knock an arrow.
When she didn't get a chiding response from her jest like she usually did from Sulenera, Sera cast a glance behind her at the foreboding crevice. She watched as Sulenera's glowing light slipped further and further away down the dark alley until it blinked out entirely.
"Jus' go'n'come back in one piece, yeah?" She called out as an after-thought, biting her lip as worry began to sink into her gut.
Sulenera didn't actually need the veilfire to maneuver the tunnels leading into the fade. She knew a majority of the passageways by heart but the flames were a calming sight. The pull of magic in this area was a welcoming sensation; she could feel the mana in her reacting to the raw power of the place. The undercity had been the meeting grounds and haven for apostates for hundreds of years, before the Templars began raiding it. In order to combat the Chantry purge of mages, gangs formed. Mages and non-magical supporters banded together to fight back, united by a common purpose, their strength in numbers forced the Chantry to abandon their efforts of cleansing the undercity. To this day, the Chantry still has not been able to take over the pits beneath the city. The magical presence of so many apostates their warfare permanently left an imprint.
The gangs now had full and total control of the fade, each one controlling a certain sector. The Pantheon's headquarters, the Crossroads, lay in one of the most defensible positions; with secret tunnels connecting to each individual elven gang's hideouts. Perhaps the most defensible quarters belonged to The Carta, the oldest gang in the undercity, run by the dwarves. They controlled the drug trade in and out of Thedas, and were constantly caught in skirmishes with the Templars. Though the Templars don't dare venture beneath the city anymore. As of late, the gangs started pushing their agendas above ground causing large amounts of unrest. Bloody confrontations were occurring more frequently as the Chantry cracked down on their politics, a growing discontent was spreading through people, of all backgrounds and classes alike. Sulenera couldn't help but be curious at Fen'Harel's decision to mark a surface building. He must have wanted to set everyone, above and below, on edge. But why?
After a few more feet down the cramped alley, Sulenera stopped and pressed her free hand against an elven rune that had been burned into the stone surface of the wall. It lit up when it reacted to her mana. The stones began dissolving away, revealing a grand archway into a regal chamber. Sulenera stepped through and heard the stones reassembling themselves behind her. She strode with a graceful gait into the regal hall, admiring all of the elven architecture in the vaulted ceiling. She gazed at all of the artwork and artifacts they had "procured" through the years, adorning various spots within the ante chamber. Sulenera would never grow tired of staring at the beautiful elven history they had restored in the crossroads. Eight statues of the ancient elven gods loomed in the distance, behind eight thrones posed in a semi-circle their feet. In the center of the room was an embellished wooden table that held glimmering holograms of territories and gang movements hovering above the tabletop. Five elves stood around it pointing and arguing loudly.
On the far left stood a lean, dark skinned woman with gold ink in the shape of Dirthamen's vallaslin etched onto her face. Long black hair was pulled back in braids that fell to her hips, revealing that she had shaved the sides of her head, like Sulenera. Her features were sharp; her glittering amber eyes were surveying the argument like a bird of prey would stalk its victim before striking. Her twin stood aside her, but his face bore the golden marks of Falon'din. Sulenera always thought Nydhis and his twin looked uncannily similar.
Her eyes shifted to the next elf. Sulenera almost barked a laugh at the sharp contrast between Ghilan'nain and the two that followed before her. She was petite and lithe; her sun-kissed skin had a splash of freckles that littered her young, heart-shaped face. Her silky white hair the color fresh snow was swept back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, leaving wisps to frame her face. Etched on her forehead was Ghilan'nain's vallaslin.
Ghilan'nain kept looking from Falon'din to the woman yelling at him directly on her left. The two seemed to be really going at it fiercely. The woman arguing with Falon'din came as no surprise to Sulenera. Andruil was known for her flippant temper. She had shocking red hair that fell in loose curls past a wide set of shoulders, two small braids formed a crown around her head. She was rippling with muscle and towered over Ghilan'nain by several inches. It was almost as if lighting danced in her stormy grey eyes every time she raised her voice in protest to whatever Falon'din had been firing at her. The last woman on the end of the table was also silent and observing like Dirthamen. She glanced over at Sulenera teal eyes that matched her Sylaise vallaslin. Her lips quirked into a smirk and rolled her eyes at the arguing pair,
"Arguing, as usual." Sulenera muttered and Sylaise murmured in agreement as she approached the feuding elves.
"What could this possibly mean? Did Fen'Harel mean to set the Orlesians into chaos?" Ghilan'nain said, attempting to interrupt the feud.
"He wants to raid the museum for himself, we should take him out!" Andruil declared, curls shaking violently as she gestured with a sweeping motion.
"What if he's trying to tell us something?" Ghilan'nain tried again, pleading with Andruil.
"Bullshit, when has he ever tried to help us before?" Falon'din countered.
"He saved your dumbass three months ago from the most ill-conceived plot to steal territory from the Vints!"
"I told you to fucking drop that, it happened, it's over. We've moved on." Falon'din's sharp reply was nearly a shout.
Andruil opened her mouth to fire back a retort but was promptly cut off by Sulenera.
"Enough!" Sulenera shouted over the bickering elves at the table, radiating her aura out dropping the temperature of the room below freezing, commanding the attention of the room. "We will get nothing done with petty arguing."
Once all eyes had been turned on her, Sulenera spread her arms out allowing her enchanted clothing to ignite and swirl with bright motes of light, transforming her vest into an elven metal breastplate and enhancing her boots with metal plates. Dragon horns spiraled out of her golden hair completing the transformation.
"Where is Elgar'nan?" Sulenera demanded, crossing her arms as frost crept over the edges of the table.
As if on cue, the double doors directly behind Falon'din burst open, and two male elves already in their enchanted armor strode in.
"This alters nothing. We move as planned, Fen'Harel be damned." The man bearing the all-father's vallaslin stated with a gesture to his comrade beside him, clearly annoyed with the situation.
"Is that truly wise, Elgar'nan?" June said, easily keeping up with Elgar'nan, "I will not lie, the situation is unsettling but…." He trailed off as they walked over to take their places around the table.
"I also worry about the Dread Wolf's motives….what angle is he working!?" His fists slammed on the table, causing the holographic movements to waver in their projections. "We've been planning this job for weeks, we aren't going to abandon it now. We will just have to prepare for his interference." His brows furrowed in anger as his eyes raked over the holograms on the table. "Somehow he found out about our plans, most likely through loose ends we forgot to eliminate."
Sulenera turned her attention to the table, gang territory lines were lit up on the surface. Various markers mapped out gang movements and hot zones with on-going warfare. The Carta's activity levels were on slightly above normal, seemingly unphased compared to the other gangs whose activity levels were buzzing. None more so than Orlais, the gang ran by the direct descendants of the ancient civilization of Orlais. The Orlesian's activity was ablaze. The source seemed to be infighting, according to their designated markers fighting themselves on the display thanks to Dirthamen's spies.
"Whatever his motives are, could they have been aimed at Orlais and not us? What else would cause such a mess?" Ghilan'nain brought up Orlais again, Sulenera noted.
"It appears the sigil set off a civil war within the gang." Sulenera pointed out three different colored markers, studying their activity intently. "Three factions appear to be vying for power."
"I wonder why the sigil sent them into frenzy, when it was clearly painted on our target." Dirthamen commented. "How was it not meant for us?"
"Maybe Fen'Harel wanted to mess with both the Pantheon and Orlais?" June proposed, "But for what purpose?"
The elves broke out in loud chatter again; arguing over one another, trying to solve the meaning behind Fen'Harel's bold move. The din of voices grew loud and echoed off the walls. Sulenera reached out and placed a firm hand on Elgar'nan's shoulder, pulling him out of heated discussion with Andruil and Falon'din. Sulenera guided him off to the side for a private conversation.
"Allow me to-." She began but was cut short.
"No, we will not appeal to him Mythal."
"I will talk to him, not appeal." Sulenera tried again with a lilting voice laced with poison, "If you still want to go ahead with our raid, you're going to need someone to distract him. You need me."
Sulenera observed the man posing as Elgar'nan's reaction. He was considering it.
She was no stranger to Fen'Harel, to much of the Pantheon's disapproval. They didn't trust him and with good reason. His past actions often hindered and foiled their jobs, raids, and plans. But on the other hand, his movements against other gangs and Chantry organizations alike opened opportunities for the Pantheon that they took for granted. Sulenera and Fen'Harel have had many encounters in the past. She wouldn't call what they had between them an alliance per se, it was more akin to a mutual understanding and respect. They had their own secret agenda; they would meet, discuss movements, give hints to one another about future activities, and part ways.
But in the last year or so, Fen'Harel had taken on more of a mentoring role, altering the dynamic of their relationship. He gave advice and insight that often was crucial to the success of Sulenera's personal raids with her Daughters of Mythal, as well as the Pantheon's. Sulenera would not deny that he helped the elves on several occasions, even if it was indirect and twisted in some way. Sulenera was confident she could get some idea of his plans or at least steal his attention long enough for her people to strike as safely as they could tonight.
"I've already alerted my daughters, my second has got them stationed and ready." Sulenera added, watching the resignation fall across Elgar'nan's features.
Elgar'nan exhaled, "Fine. Go to him. Find out what he wants and report back immediately to me. I'll quell this and prepare them to move." He nodded in the direction of the feuding elves. He turned his searing blood orange eyes back to lock with Sulenera's.
"He most likely is expecting you anyway." He added with a tone of displeasure.
"Most likely." Sulenera acknowledged with a cold smile.
"Be wary, Mythal. You do not need me to lecture you on my distaste for the Dread Wolf, and I know your relationship with him is more than what you claim it to be. Know that I vehemently do not approve." His stern tone attempted to mask his brewing anger, but Sulenera knew Elgar'nan too well and saw through his guise.
"Know that your approval of my relationship with him is not needed, nor appreciated." Sulenera let the ice slide into her voice as she asserted herself.
Elgar'nan's eyes flashed with fury for a split second before he took a breath to calm himself. He could not stand being challenged by anyone but Sulenera, anyone else would have been struck down into their place.
"Dareth, Mythal" He said through gritted teeth as a parting statement, and turned sharply away to the table. Sulenera fled from the fray of the hall and made her way back out into the fade, leaving a trail of frost in her wake.
Sera gasped as hand rested on her shoulder. Sulenera had slipped out of the crevice in the wall without her noticing.
"Maker's breath 'Era. You move like shadows. Wot's goin' on?"
A devious smile crept across Sulenera's face, "We're going to let the Dread Wolf catch our scent."