I Caught You: The Hero and the Brooder
On the border of Antiva and the Free Marches, a lone Grey Warden walks along a dirt path. She is an elven woman with long dark brown hair with random braids in her hair. She was obviously Fereldan as most Antivans and Marchers were never as simple with their hair from the country which smelled of dogs. Practicality over fashion was what they are infamous for, after all. Fields of greenery surrounded her: grass blew in the direction of the winds with different small animals scurrying about doing their business. She laughs at a fennec squealing and looks to the sky as large cotton-like clouds unfurled westward. A storm was heading her way, and she had to find shelter before that. Fortunately, at a place up ahead where two paths intersected, a farmer offered her a ride to a nearby city – not Antiva City, however.
In a tavern full of tired city-dwellers sat a hooded figure. The place was dark and lit by torches, so no one could properly see his face. He orders wine instead of beer or brandy. The hostess finds this odd of anyone who is a native; therefore, he was from somewhere. Probably to the west of Antiva as "Vints" often enjoy wine over other types of alcohol. Under his hood are beautiful eyes that distract from the white markings on his chin. He has darker skin than most, a straight nose, and semi-short white hair. The sides of his head had been shaved, it seemed, revealing three dots in the form of a triangle on his forehead. No one in the tavern bothered the foreigner as he drank quietly.
The doors of the tavern burst open, and an elven woman emerged soaked from head to toe even with her cloak on. She quickly shuts the door and sighs a large sigh before making her way to the tavern owner.
"A room please," she says with her hood down and hand in her purse for ten silver. "I'll be staying for a few nights." The owner smiles at the sight of the coin but becomes grim like he just remembered something awful.
"I would love lend you a room," he explains, "but I just allowed that gentleman over there –" He points to the hooded figure. " – the last room. Refugees ranging from distressed Marchers to what may be weak apostates or terrorized victims of apostates have been coming in and out every night. We're quite packed. I've got three in each room – on agreement, of course. So unless you would like to make a deal…"
"No," she replies and reaches back into her purse. "I have lots of money, tavern keep." She shows him twenty more silver. "It's quite a burden, actually, so if you'd like to help relieve some for me."
"Messere, I…" He gulps, glancing at the figure with dread. "I have to admit I am tempted, but mine and my family's safety come first. That man is armed, I am afraid. I would rather not mess with previous arrangements.
The Grey Warden sighs in annoyance. She turns on her heel towards the figure. "Excuse me, messere?" He does not look up. "I'd like to discuss rooming with you." No response; he continues to drink. She sighs, exasperated. "Look, I would rather not turn a stranger out on the street, so we either discuss this now or one of us is going to be out there in the cold rain." The figure slowly looks up to meet her faze. He is obviously annoyed and bluntly grimacing.
"Fine, what is it?" he demands. Cranky even after all that wine. She does not mean to, but the Warden makes a small gasp at the sight of his tattoos. The man realizes this and becomes amused. She snaps back to attention.
"Would you care sharing a room with me?" she asked. The elven woman hears herself out loud, and the chattering in the tavern quiets down. "Um, not like that, I mean… uh…" Hoots and hollers comes from the drunkards. One shouts for her to get some. "Shut it! Back to your drinks!" Heat reddens her cheeks. "Would you room with me for a night?" Or a few, depending on the situation.
He sits back in his chair, clearly unamused. She sees his obvious distaste for the idea. "I assure you," she says. "I mean you no harm. All I ask is for a room tonight. I swear on my life to keep our belongings separate." The man ponders for a moment, irritated expression readily finding his face. "I swear!"
"Words mean nothing. I refuse your offer." Almost bitterly, he continues drinking.
"I can't have that, however. So I guess we'll have to compromise." He laughs spitefully but amused.
"And what could a stranger like you offer that I would want?" he asks.
"Oh, no offer, messere. Indulge me in a game of Wicked Grace. If I win, we share the room."
This piques his interest. Wicked Grace, a game he had not played since Kirkwall with his beloved companions. "And if you lose?"
"There's no point in saying since it won't happen." She takes out a deck of cards from her pack. "Shall we?"
He contemplates, then reconsiders his refusal. The confidence in her eyes made him want to beat her in a few rounds. "All right. Hope you fancy mud and cold northern Thedas hail."
"Ha! Stormy weather and a brooding man would be so much better, don't you think?"
They both scowl, and the challenger shuffles the cards.
"My name's Myriani, by the way" the smug Warden declares back at the room. A large grin is pinned to her face, and the man fights the urge to roll his eyes. She sets her bags down next to the dresser.
The man grunts, "I am called Fenris. Watch yourself in here. One night, you hear me?" Myriani nods happily. She turns and takes out a bed roll from her backpack. "What are you doing?"
"Unrolling my bedroll?" she replies.
"No, a winner is to take the bed. You won and are a woman. You should take the bed," he insists. Myriani smiles.
"That is very kind of you, Fenris, but I was the one who rudely asked you to share a room with me. I feel awful I won, to be very honest." She puts on a sheepish look before twisting it into a cocky grin. "Ha! Right. Winning is always great." Fenris stares in mild quiet anger.
Now that they were in the privacy of a room, he takes off the cloak he wore and reveals a sleeveless shirt and tan pants from a set of smallclothes. The lyrium tattoos bound to his skin was beautiful to the Warden. She says nothing while admiring. She also notices he is an elf but none like she had met before.
"Those aren't tattoos from a vallaslin," she points out. Her expression softens. "They actually look painful, to be that color."
He chuckles for but a moment. "I had a friend say that to me once. No one else I have encountered has ever made the same comment until now." He sits on the side of the bed to remove his boots.
Myriani undoes the braids in her hair. Her legs are crossed on the matt. "Well, I feel honored. Just the memory of this man brings you happiness?"
"Happiness? Perhaps. He was a good friend and a champion to a great many people. I would not be alive had it not been for him." Fenris sighs.
' "It sounds as though he is more than just a friend." The Warden shrugs off her own cloak, revealing the iconic blue and silver Grey Warden armor. Fenris' eyes widen. He hides his surprise as soon as she turns back around. "You don't mind undoing the very back strap, do you?" She points with her thumb at the neck part. "Doesn't look like it, but I normally avoid undoing it myself when I can. Blasted Wayne overdoing the designs – light and powerful as hell, but…" She whistles. "Complicated."
Fenris stands to help her. "You're a Grey Warden?"
"I am," she says. "Was your friend one too?"
"His sister is and so was…" He becomes quiet, partly because of the memory and also the complexity of the intersecting straps under the chain part of the back.
"Hmm… Champion with a Grey Warden sister… Sounds familiar. Where are you from, Fenris?" she questions. He is almost done with the straps. Myriani keeps her hair up with her hand.
"Kirkwall. That is probably why – "
"Ah! Wait! Do you know Varric Tethras?" she exclaims. "You were in Tales of the Champion! You're that Fenris!"
Fenris scowls from behind her. Such a natural being this person was. He had never been so open with anyone other than… well, Hawke. The armor came off, and she stood half naked in front of him. She begins to turn around, but he keeps a hand on her shoulder knowing she was the type of woman to be so careless. Scars decorate her back like trophies. He could tell each one she had earned in many battles against darkspawn. A wave of respect fell over him. He was rooming with a Grey Warden. Such a small back. He stares at one scar in particular, like she had literally been stabbed in the back. It was more recent than the rest.
"Thank you, Fenris. Would have taken me all night to get those off," she laughs, holding the armor to her front while bending down to get her night gown. He averts his eyes as she drops the suit and slips on the white cotton. For a warrior to be so cheerful was odd.
He didn't know what compelled him to do so, but he just had to ask, "Are you all right?"
Another smile that reached into her eyes. "Why wouldn't I be? In fact, I should be the one asking you."
"I have always wondered, what do Grey Wardens do when they are not out facing the Blight. The Blight ended long ago, so there is not much to be seen."
"Lots of people ask me that, actually. Grey Wardens retreat to Weisshaupt Fortress or whatever else they can do. Most continue fighting darkspawn, now that I think about it. Say, do you know a woman named Isabela?"
Fenris nods. "From the story, I take it? You must have questions for me as well."
"Lots. Why don't we exchange questions and answers? I promise to be completely honest. I don't require you to be, but it'd be nice."
She feared nothing, it seemed. The way she spoke and moved was just full of confidence. She has met so many people on her travels, most likely, but she also had a way about her. She was charming and easy to talk to. He could tell she has shared a great deal of hardship, just as he had, maybe even way worse.
"Where are you from, Myriani?" he asks.
"I am from one of Fereldan's Circle Towers before the Circles were dissolved. I was conscripted to fight at Ostagar alongside Ferelden's former king, King Caila – Maker watch over him." Fenris nods. She was a mage. That bothered him a great deal, but Grey Wardens were not Tevinter slavers.
"My turn, right? Were you bothered by my admitting I am a mage?" she asks.
A part of his face shifts. She catches it.
"Just as I thought. Do not worry, friend. I will not do anything to compromise anyone. It is my duty, in fact, to make sure the people of Thedas are safe. I have sworn an oath and gone through a – um, ahem. Actually, I would rather not let you in on the Grey Warden secrets."
Friend. She had called him friend without even flinching. Instead of urging her to go to bed, he could not sate his curiosity. "What do you know of me?" he asks.
"His description was spot-on, actually. I thought he exaggerated on the intense brooding stuff, but now that I've met you it's true." She smiles. "Haha! Not really. Well, I know that you are someone on a path of vengeance. 'Tis a hard path…"
Fenris is quiet. He had killed loads of slavers on his travels, Tevinter or no.
"So… is Hawke your…?" Myriani smirks.
Fenris gives her a half smile and knowing look. "Once. We were that way once, but it is no more. He left me for a mage named Anders."
Myriani gasps. "No… Hawke left you? Such a handsome one you are, yet… My word."
Fenris laughs nervously but coughs to level his voice. "I believe it is my turn to ask questions. What is a Grey Warden doing on the borders of Antiva and the Free Marches?"
Myriani crosses her arms, disappointed. "Fine, don't tell me the details. As a Grey Warden, however, I am currently on a quest. And unfortunately it is also a secret."
"Makes us even," he replies.
"True enough. Now, Fenris, do you know how dear Isabela fares?"
"She seems to be an admiral now. Raider trash."
Myriani bursts into laughter. "I see! She cheared me in Wicked Grace, you know."
"You're not the only one," he admits.
"Oh, but hey. She was pretty freaky in the sheets, if you know what I mean."
He groans. "Not you too."
Myriani laughs. "Oh, yes. Two others were with us!"
"Spare me the details, please," he begs before laughing with her.
"All right. Your turn…"
The two spent the entire evening getting to know of each other's travels. Fenris only later learned Myriani was actually the Hero of Ferelden. He regrets not asking for her experiences during the Fifth Blight, and Myriani regrets not asking to really spend a night with the handsome elf. They parted quite amicably the next morning, however. Fenris left a note next to the bedside table which said the following:
Myriani,
Count on that game of Wicked Grace next time we meet.
Your friend, Fenris