Author's Note: Hello again! A big thank you to those who favorited and followed the last chapter! It makes me so happy and excited to be writing again. :D I'm open to any comments, and let me know if anything is confusing. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor am I making any money from writing about it.
Marna hesitated at the door to the Inquisitor's quarters. The teacup and saucer on the tray she held clattered slightly in her shaking hands. She jumped with a gasp when the stranger grabbed her shoulder. He reached around her and pushed the door open with his other hand. He must have set down the books somewhere on the way up. His green eyes glared at her. Long ears poked out beneath white hair. An elf. Then he was behind her again.
"Go in, now," he ordered, releasing her shoulder. He drew a dagger from its sheath, the sound making Marna shudder.
Marna did as he said, but with timid steps. What more could she do? She felt hopeless, guilt growing alongside her fear. As she reached the top of the last steps, she turned into the room proper. The Inquisitor had her back to her, standing before her desk still in bare feet.
"I'm already late for the meeting with my advisers, I know," Lavellan said, distracted by the papers she had spread before her on the desk. She gathered up several folded pages and began turning around, still looking down at them. "I needed to write a few more messages. Would you mind taking these –"
Lavellan was cut off by a crashing sound and strangled scream. The stranger had grabbed Marna from behind, making her drop the tray in surprise. One arm held Marna in place, and the other held the dagger to her throat.
Lavellan's head snapped up and her eyes went wide as she took in the situation in a second. Her gaze flickering to her staff. It leaned against the stone wall, several feet of reach.
"Don't try it, mage. One step and I slit her throat," the elf snarled.
Marna made a strangled noise of fear, shivering and tearing up. She did not want to die.
"It's alright. It's fine," Lavellan said, voice soft and even. She slowly placed the folded messages back on her desk. She held her hands up, hoping to calm the elf. "I won't move. Please, just let Marna go," she said in the same even tone. She met the assassin's eyes, studying him.
"So she can bring soldiers to deal with me? No," the elf said with a huff in a gravely, angry voice. Marna couldn't help whimpering at that. She closed her eyes, expecting the dagger to drag across her throat any second.
"Please, don't hurt her," Lavellan was saying, a hint of pleading in her voice. "Fenris, right? Please, don't." Marna opened her eyes again, watching the Inquisitor. Maybe she could actually talk him into releasing her?
The assassin stiffened. "How do you know my name?" he demanded. Marna felt the dagger push a little harder into her throat.
"I-I read Varric's book. I recognize you from that – an elf with white hair, the lyrium tattoos…" Lavellan trailed off. Maybe this had been the wrong direction to take this.
"The dwarf's book. The one about Hawke," Fenris snarled. "The woman you killed." The accusation in his voice was as sharp as his dagger.
Lavellan met Fenris's angry gaze. She nodded slowly, solemnly . "Yes. But Marna had nothing to do with that. She wasn't even at Adamant," she said quietly. Her heart beat rapidly, and she had to consciously keep herself from moving forward or drawing magic forth. She couldn't risk angering Fenris, not with Marna in danger.
"You care so much for her? A favorite pet?" Fenris replied with a cruel sneer. "Perhaps I should kill her now, so you can suffer a bit before I kill you."
"You're here to avenge Hawke. I understand that." Lavellan's eyes flickered between Fenris and Marna. "But surely she wouldn't want you to hurt an innocent person to do it. I'm begging you, let Marna leave unharmed, and you can have your chance at me." Marna saw the grim look on her face, as Lavellan stared steadily at the assassin still holding her firmly.
There was a pause, before Fenris spoke through gritted teeth. "No, she would not approve." His grip on Marna slacked, and the dagger left her throat. Marna fell to her knees, weak with relief.
"In… Inquisitor," she hiccupped, hands wiping at the tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I… I shouldn't have – "
"Marna," Lavellan said, cutting her off with a firm, quiet voice. "Look at me, Marna."
Marna looked up at the Inquisitor through teary eyes, guilt already coloring her cheeks. She had put the Inquisitor in danger, and now she had saved her.
"You did nothing wrong. Understand?" Lavellan said firmly, eyes locked with Marna's. At Marna's small nod, she continued. "I need you to leave, alright?"
Marna glanced back and up at Fenris. The elf was sneering, watching the Inquisitor. "B-but… Inquisitor…," she stammered, looking back to Lavellan. How could she leave her to face this danger alone? But then, what help would she be?
"Now, Marna. Go downstairs," Lavellan said, more authority in her voice.
With a shaky breath and a nod, Marna scrambled up and back to the stairs. She glanced back one final time. Fenris removed his cloak with a jerk, dagger in hand, glaring at the Inquisitor. Lavellan met his gaze, hands lowered slightly. Marna turned away, slammed through the door, and ran down the stairs.
"Hawke was always concerned with the innocent, with those caught up in danger," Fenris said. "You, however, are no innocent," He snarled angrily, lifting the dagger.
"I'm sure it's worth nothing to you, but I am sorry about Hawke," Lavellan said, then sighed. "And for this."
With that, Lavellan swung her arms forward, a blast of lighting shooting from her hands toward Fenris. The elf dodged, and launched himself at Lavellan.
Varric shuffled the papers before him, brow furrowed. "Now where did that tavern scene get to?"
Cassandra blushed slightly, handing over the pages she had been engrossed in. He smiled. "So what do think? It needs to be a strong scene, since that's where the romance starts." Varric chuckled inwardly. He still found it amusing that the Seeker enjoyed romance and smut.
"It is… interesting," Cassandra answered. "But would no one find it odd for a noble to be meeting with a known mercenary in such a public place?"
"Ha, I guess you've never been to The Hanged Man," Varric laughed. He glanced over the papers, half-listening to the noble women walking by. Apparently they didn't know that whispering only drew more attention.
"Do you think he was Dalish? They wear tattoos, do they not?" the one in a pink and yellow dress asked.
The other, in green, fanned herself. "I believe they only tattoo their faces. I have never seen one with them only on the neck and arms."
"Perhaps they cover more than the neck and arms," Pink-and-yellow giggled. "I would like to see if they continue under that black armor."
Green didn't approve, evidently. "Such bawdiness! And about an elf! Did you not see the white hair? He must be much too old for you, anyway."
Varric sat up straight. They couldn't be talking about… no, he was way up north. Varric remembered the letter he had sent to him, about Hawke. He wouldn't…
"Oh, surely you are curious as well," Pink-and-yellow huffed. "He looked so… exotic!"
Varric hesitated a moment, before pushing back his chair and standing. He was certainly curious. With a growing sense of dread, he approached the chatting women.
"Good morning, Ladies," he said, giving them a charming smile.
Green seemed unimpressed, looking at the dwarf with distain. Then Pink-and-yellow grabbed her arm. "Oh, it's Serah Tethras! The author!" she exclaimed giddily. Green relaxed into a surprised smile.
"I most certainly am," Varric replied, giving a small bow. "I overheard you talking, and was curious. This elf you saw, was he scowling? Would you maybe describe him as broody?"
Green touched the tip of her fan to her lips. "Well, he was certainly frowning. But servants do a lot of that, no?"
"So he's a servant?" Varric asked. Maybe this was just a coincidence?
"I did not ask," Green huffed.
"He must be. He was with that elf girl. You know, the Inquisitor's favorite," Pink-and-yellow added. "Why else would they go to the Inquisitor's quarters? She usually greets any important guests here in the Great Hall."
The dread almost choked Varric. "Thank you ladies. Have a pleasant day," he managed to say lightly, then turning back to the table. They walked off, whispering again. Something about the strange elf maybe being the Inquisitor's lover. Varric huffed, glancing at Solas.
"Something wrong, Varric?" Cassandra asked, frowning.
Varric hesitated, leaning his hands against the table. "I don't know," he said finally. "But I think we should check on Lavellan."
"If you know something, Varric ...," Cassandra said as she stood, steel in her voice and hand on her sword.
Varric held up his hands. "I'm not sure, okay? Just, come with me… She might be in danger," he answered, his voice low. He glanced at Solas, who had also stood.
"Then let us move with haste," Solas said.
The three stalked quickly toward the door that led to the Inquisitor's quarters. As they neared, Marna burst through the door, stumbling as she tripped over her own feet. Cassandra caught her, gripping her shoulders.
"Marna! What happened?" she demanded, noticing the tears on her cheeks, and the thin line of blood on her throat.
"The Inquisitor! She… she…," Marna cried, choking on her tears.
"Be calm, da'len," Solas said, softly but urgently. "Is she in danger?"
Marna nodded vigorously. "An assassin! He's in there with her! Help her, please!" Her strangled shout had caught the attention of nearby guests.
"Shit," Varric said, momentarily frozen.
"Tell the commander, quickly!" Cassandra ordered Marna as she pushed the elf aside.
The three launched themselves through the door, racing up the stairs toward Lavellan's quarters. Solas cursed himself for not having his staff, and Cassandra drew her sword as they ran.
"Varric, what do you know?" Cassandra demanded.
"I think…," Varric started. "Shit. I think it might be Fenris."
"The Champion's lover? The elf?" Cassandra, surprised for a moment. Then her lips settled into a determined frown.
"Quickly! Before we are too late!" Solas said, though there was no need. The other two could hear the desperate fear in his voice.
From what Varric knew of Fenris's skills, and anger, he feared what they would find.
