A/N The title comes from a line in the Sylvia Plath poem 'Daddy,' and it will make far more sense in later chapters I swear. So in this world, Alistair is hardened and crowned King, but Tabris did not take him up on the suggestion to become his mistress. Alsom he slept with Morrigan as part of the dark ritual. I believe that is all you need to know in terms of back story for this to make sense. Takes place after Awakenings. I promise a new chapter in a day or so. Please R&R!
Bioware owns all, I just dress them up to suit my day dreams.
Harlow Tabris shook off the rain that clung to her cloak as she stepped inside the pearl. It was unfit for man nor darkspawn out there, the northern winds having brought one raging bitch of a storm with them.
"Good to be back in Denerim," she muttered with a scowl as a serving girl hurried hastily to take her cloak. She handed it over greatly and ran her fingers through her newly shorn obsidian hair. It always surprised her when the path from root to end ended abruptly at her nape. It was as if she had not quite gotten over the fact that her tresses no longer trailed down her shoulders to end at the small of her back. For the hundredth time she wondered what had possessed her to chop it all off into a severe and sharp a-line bob, and then, for the hundredth and one time she remembered. Trying to shrug off the painful reminder she stepped into the brothel proper, took a seat at the bar, and motioned for the barkeep. After ordering a small tankard of ale, she surveyed the room and caught the eye of a dwarven women, heavily made up, clothing fitting snugly about her chest. With a crook of her finger she motioned the girl over.
"How can I help you, lovie?" The dwarf asked; a hand placed suggestively on Harlow's leg.
"You can help me with information, dearie," Harlow replied good naturedly as she gently removed the hand. The dwarf shrugged in indifference and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Costs the same as the other, I'd wager, nothin's free in the pearl, you understand?"
Harlow chuckled softly as she plucked a sovereign from the depths of the purse she wore tied to the belt her waist. She held it up before the dwarf with a raised eyebrow.
"More than twice the going rate, unless the asking price has gone up since I've been gone. Should be more than enough to get the answer I'm looking for."
"That'll do me, it's your coin after all, where should I care where you spend it," The dwarf replied with a shrug, snatching the coin from Harlow's hand. "Now, what can Clara do for ye?"
Pausing to take a large gulp of ale, Harlow hoped she had come to the right place. It made the most sense, and she wasn't interested in chasing her quarry all over Denerim in this storm.
"I'm looking for a man…and elf to be exact, I heard he frequents here."
"This a husband of yours?" Clara asked, a mean spirited grin forming on her lips, "sorry love, but we're in the business of keepin out clients secrets, specially from jealous wives. I swear, you knife ears are so-"
Harlow pinned the dwarf with a glare that showed every drop of malice she felt for that word.
"Finnish that thought or use that phrase within my hearing again and I will gut you with something much sharper than my ears," she growled through clenched teeth. Clara's face turned a ghastly shade of white as the blood drained from fear. "You would do well to remember that not all elves are weak little gutter rats holed up in the alienage."
"Y-yes ma'am," Clara stammered, taking a step back.
"As to my question, no, he is not my husband. He is a dear friend of mine and I merely wish to give him some information. Is that clear?" She watched as Clara quickly bobbed her head in agreement and drew on the tankard of ale once more.
"The man in question is Antivan, blonde, with a tattoo on the side of face. Does that strike a bell, Clara?"
"That one?" Clara asked with a sigh of relief, her demeanor relaxing immediately, "By the stone, why didn't you say so before? One mention of that rake and I'dve known you wasn't looking for no lost husband. Caridan himself would rise from the stone before that one took a wife."
Remembering her time in Orzamar, Harlow let out a snort of laughter. "I'd rethink that last bit, if I were you," she said into her cup as she took another sip of ale. Clara looked at her in confusion, clearly lost to her meaning. "Never mind. Is he here?"
"Yeah, comes in about twice a week. He's in the back with Brigeette," Clara said gesturing to the doorway that led to the bedchambers.
"Fantastic!" Harlow declared, draining the last of her cup before rising. Clara let out a sound of protestation as the elven woman strode unabashedly towards the door.
"He's not alone!" the dwarf called out, trying to dissuade her from her path.
"Nothing I haven't seen before," Harlow replied dismissively before stopping to grab the nearest guard and ask which room was the infamous Brigeette's. After having secured directions she counted off the doors, arriving at one secluded back and into a corner. She could hear muffled noises of passion coming through the door and she suppressed a grin as she barged into the room.
"So sorry to interrupt," she said cheerfully as she surveyed the mass of contorted and sweaty limbs, "but I need to borrow the elf for a moment."
She watched as Zevran's head popped up from the mattress, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Harlow! What brings you to Denerim my delectable friend?" he cried out with happiness.
"Disentangle yourself from the woman's charms and I shall tell you," Harlow replied grinning, pointedly not looking at what had to be some very creative positioning. Did joints really bend that way?
"Forgive me, sweetling," Zevran murmured to Brigeette as he gracefully slipped out of bed, taking a sheet to wrap about his hips as he did so. "I promise to return momentarily."
Harlow watched in amusement as the elf gracefully sat down on a small stool seated near a dilapidated vanity. She joined him by leaning her rump against the worn wood, her eyes full of delight.
"How did you know where to find me?" Zevran asked with amusement.
"It was either here, or at your safe house, and considering I have yet to hear of any noblemen meeting a mysterious end I figured you were indulging in your other favorite past time," she replied with a shrug. Zevran let out a bark of laughter.
"Too true, my friend. The assassin business has been rather slow. It is what comes from a nation being united under one ruler, yes?"Too late he realized his error as Harlow's relaxed stance grew tense and withdrawn. His grin fell from his mouth as he closed his eyes and sighed. "I am sorry, Lo-Lo, truly. I did not think-"
Harlow cut him off with a wave of her hand, dismissing the unintended hurt.
"It's fine, Zev, really. That is why I came to find you, I've heard troubling rumors about our dear King," she said, her voice turning bitter.
"Oh? And what rumors would those be?"
"The kind that require your expertise, my dear assassin. It seems someone is planning to end Alistair's rein in a most untimely manner."
Zevran took in the words, his eyes turning shrewd and calculating as he weighed their meaning. In the end he nodded, his features all business and planning.
"Have you proof?" he inquired.
"Nothing solid, but there are too many pieces of information that don't sit well with me. Have you heard nothing of this from the crows?"
"My dear friend, I am a dead man to the crows, why should any of their information find its way to my ear?" he stated with a finality.
"Oh come on, Zev, they most certainly know you are alive. For fuck's sake Ignacio has seen you walking about, making threatening and lewd comments. Let's put aside this cloak and dagger crap and face the reality of the situation," she cried throwing up her hands in exasperation.
"Be that as it may," he explained slowly, "they are not in the habit of acknowledging my existence. The notion that I would have any insight into their current contracts is ridiculous."
"Fine, I figured it was worth asking. I'll have to go see Ignacio myself I suppose. But if the crows aren't a part of this, it leaves me with very little avenues to follow."
"The crows are not the only guild of assassins in the word, my sweet warden, but that is a conversation for another time. What do you intend to do while we root out this would be dispatcher?" He asked lightly, testing his friend and one time pupil.
"I shall do as my dear mentor instructed," she teased, hitting him on the shoulder, "I shall infiltrate the palace and keep an eye on our dimwitted liege."
"Harlow, you are too well known to the nobility to pass as a serving wench in the laundry, it will not work," he said disapprovingly.
"Were you not the one who taught me that the best lies have a bit of truth to them?" she countered grinning. "I really do have business that requires my presence at the castle prudent. As warden commander, and arlessa of Amaranthine, I have come to beg for recruits and funds to rebuild what was lost after the recent cluster fuck that the Mother and the Architect dropped on our laps."
"It seems you have stories, my friend. Perhaps another time you shall tell me of them, yes? But it seems you have a plan. I shall poke around a bit, see what I can uncover about those…displeased with the bastard king."
"We should meet tomorrow evening, compare notes. I have a set of rooms at the palace set aside, come to me there are we can talk," She said as she rose to leave.
"How I have longed to hear such an invite to your chamber, my dear friend," he said seductively as he rose. She tried for a stern countenance but ending up laughing despite herself.
"Ever the rakish cad, right Zev?" she sighed and motioned back towards the bed and the waiting Brigeette who had witnessed their exchange with heavy lidded eyes. "I'll leave you to your companion, we shall speak more tomorrow."
As she turned to leave, Zevran called out her name causing her to turn back in expectation. She was surprised to find his face serious and concerned.
"Harlow, whatever you are expecting….Alistair….he is not the same man you left behind. Tread carefully dear one."
Harlow swallowed hard and schooled her expression into one of neutrality.
"Whatever man I expected him to be, he was never that person to begin with. He made that quite clear after the landsmeet," she said neutrally and turned to go, Zevran's soft sigh followed her out as she shut the door behind her.