Author's Note

Herro! It's been a while. So, I finished school for the summer, flew across the country, and got a summer job. And it's a job where the amount of work-related work that I actually do is far outweighed by the amount of time I spend sitting at my desk doing absolutely nothing. Not that I'm complaining. So, I've been doing a lot of writing. You'll probably see a fair bit of updating over the next little while, unless I suddenly get bombarded with work. Which is also possible, as it's still a pretty new job, and I'm still learning the ropes.

Until then, here's chapter 2 of my MoTA fic. Lots of dialogue here, but I'll be getting down to business in the next chapter, so bear with me. I always found it weird that if you take Fenris with you to Orlais in the game, he has nothing to say about the Qunari aspect of the DLC. You'd think he'd have a bit more insight regarding Tallis, knowing what he does about how the Qunari work. I understand that's the limitations of the DLC story, but this is fanfiction, damn it! I will have my cake and eat it too!

Heh. Enjoy,

- BB

What Happens in Orlais
Chapter Two

Tallis; Idealist, and Keeper of Secrets

"I don't buy it." Hawke muttered, pacing the length of the room she shared with Fenris that they'd rented for the night on their way to Chateau Haine. Tallis had rented the room across the hall, allowing them the privacy they would surely be lacking for the next few days, until they returned to Val Royeaux, though Hawke suspected something else was afoot, "An elven assassin comes out of nowhere to break into some Orlesian noble's home to steal a jewel that's not even valuable. Why?"

"She's hiding something from you." Fenris said from his position against the wall, overlooking the street through the window, surveying the surroundings.

"Well that much is obvious." She shrugged, "We're in Orlais; even their dogs have secrets."

"She is Qunari."

Hawke nodded, having suspected as much, "Her name sounds distinctly so, and that proverb she said when we first met her sent up a red flag. But why is she here, stealing a jewel from some Orlesian noble? She's an assassin, not a thief."

"Not exactly," Fenris argued, pushing off from the wall with a shake of his head, "The Antivan called her an assassin, but her rank is Tallis, which means 'to solve'."

"So… she's here to solve a problem for the Qunari?"

"That generally does mean assassinations, but not exclusively."

"But the question remains of how this jewel we're supposed to steal ended up in Prosper's hands."

His brows furrowed in consternation and he folded his arms across his chest, "You've heard of the Ben-Hassrath?"

"I've heard you mention it." She replied, nodding.

"The literal translation of Ben-Hassrath is 'heart of the many'." He explained, "The Ben-Hassrath are an order of priests within the Qunari, and the enforcers of religious law."

She once again found herself immeasurably thankful that her lover was an expert in all things Qunari, and that he was with her right now. She would never be able to figure this all out if he wasn't around. Though, they'd been practically inseparable since they returned to each other nearly four years prior. Even when she'd taken the Viscount's throne, he was never far away, watching from the shadows to ensure she was safe. And she did feel safe. She knew an assassin unhappy with her rule or the decisions she'd made during that final battle in Kirkwall would never succeed in injuring her as long as Fenris was watching her back. There was no one she trusted more to keep her safe.

"Not a jewel, then." She shook her head, confusion clouding her features, "But if names are useless to the Qunari, and rank is what matters, why name a gem after a rank? If this jewel actually exists, what's so special about it?"

"This jewel—if it is, in fact, a jewel—must mean something to the Qunari for them to send her here after it." He shrugged, "I am no Qunari, but I have never heard of such a jewel."

She sighed, approaching Fenris with her arms crossed over her chest, "This isn't making any sense. The amount of answers we've discerned from what she's told us has only raised more questions."

"Then we're in agreement." Her lover added, looking squarely at her, knowing her tendency to see the best in people, and the speed with which she placed her faith in others, "She is not to be trusted."

Hawke hesitated for a moment before finally nodding the affirmative.

Chateau Haine was the epitome of extravagance. Built solidly into the side of a mountain with sprawling archways and golden lion statues mounted on the rooftops, and Duke Prosper's yellow banner dangling from the walls at regular intervals, it was the very picture of Orlesian architecture.

Upon her approach, Prosper was standing outside speaking with another hunter, but his guard, a angry-looking Chasind man (though angry seemed to be their constant state of mind) stopped her before she could get close.

She simply looked at him, her eyebrow raised upwards on her forehead, "A fine day for a hunt, isn't it? Very... outdoorsy."

The guard's eyes narrowed on her, but Prosper noticed the commotion and instantly recognized her, stepping up to meet her with a wide smile and his hands spread wide in a welcoming gesture, "The Champion of Kirkwall! What a surprise!"

Hawke gave him a friendly nod, plastering a smile on her face to mask her disgust with the situation. Maker, she didn't belong here. She hated hunting. Almost as much as she hated making nice with the nobility. Leave it to fate to make her do both at once, "Duke Prosper. It has been some time."

"Indeed it has, my dear Champion." He responded in accented Fereldan, linking her arm through his and leading her back to the camp, and her discomfort rose to unprecedented proportions with the physical contact, "Not that I'm not thrilled you're here, but I was always under the impression you were never interested in my annual wyvern hunt."

Huh. And I thought I was a good liar. Think like a noble. Grace. Poise. Everything that you're not. Remember what Mother always tried to teach you... and no, that doesn't include drawing your dagger and impaling him with it.

It had been quite a while since Hawke was at all concerned about leaving a good impression on the nobility. She had to get back into the run of things, and it would be a few hours before she was even the slightest bit comfortable in their presence. She was drawn like a taut bow, so she forced herself to relax once she noticed Fenris watching her, that damnable smirk on his face as she let out a breath and gave the Duke another too-happy grin, "Oh don't be ridiculous. It's a favorite pastime of mine to find things and kill them, actually."

She heard something that sounded suspiciously like a stifled, familiar, rumbling laugh from behind her, but when she glanced backwards with a murderous glare, Fenris' face was perfectly neutral. Damn that elf.

Facing Prosper again, she looked apologetic, "I hope you don't mind me stopping by. I was in the area, and happened to remember your annual invitation. I thought I'd take you up on it, if it was not too much to ask."

"No, no of course not! You're welcome to join us!" He withdrew from her and she let out a slight sigh of relief as he turned to her companions and looked at Tallis, "And who is this lovely specimen?"

"You flatter me, Your Grace." The elven woman responded.

Hawke had to actively stop herself from rolling her eyes, but had much more trouble stopping the heat from flaring up her neck when he looked at Fenris and said, "And I see you've brought a manservant to assist you. I do hope his skill is as deadly as that sword appears to be."

Had Prosper been looking at her, he would have seen her hands curl into fists, her eyes narrow ferociously, and her shoulders draw up in fury, but one glance from Fenris and a nearly imperceptible shake of his head made her back down with no shortage of effort on her part, "Oh, you have nothing to worry about. He gives me a run for my money."

"Do remind me not to get on your bad side, then." Prosper added with a grin, "Lest you sic him on your enemies." Hawke noticed Fenris' jaw tighten as the only sign of his annoyance.

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. "I'd be much more worried of getting on his bad side. He chooses his own enemies."

Don't even go there, you racist Orlesian bastard.

He looked at the elf again, sizing him up, and Hawke could see by the tightness of his shoulders that Fenris was holding himself back only by the grace of the Maker. She understood that well; her fingers twitched with the desire to tear the man apart with her bare hands.

Fortunately, it didn't come to that. Although he didn't seem threatened, The Duke had nothing to say in return before looking down to see her hound, "Ah, and a loyal mabari." Prosper said, stooping down to be eye-level with the beast, "The trademark of Ferelden, and a noble beast."

The dog growled deep in his throat, baring his sharp teeth at the man with his hackles raised, but as much as Hawke wanted to reward the dog for his actions, they were here for a reason, and she couldn't blow it now. So, she took a page from Fenris' book and shook her head, "Alden, heel."

He stopped immediately, turning his big brown doggy eyes up to her face as if he was well aware of her true feelings towards this man, and wasn't expecting her reaction. She gave him a sympathetic look behind Prosper's back as the man turned again and led them into the courtyard, "This is your first time here, so feel free to speak to the other hunters if you have questions. The rules of the hunt are simple. First to bring back the carcass of a wyvern gets the banquet thrown in their honor tonight. As well as bragging rights, of course."

Hawke watched Fenris let out a heavy sigh as Prosper dismissed them and they made their way into the hunting grounds, rolling his shoulders and letting himself relax, "'Manservant'," he muttered, disgust evident in his voice.

"Well, I was perfectly willing to pummel him senseless," Hawke said, shrugging, "But you said no."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." He responded, "But then he kept speaking."

"Apparently his prejudice is only towards elves of the male variety, as the way he treated Tallis was perfectly respectable."

"For now." The woman in question added, "Get me alone, and he'd probably see me as nothing more than an elven plaything."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience." Hawke said, unsure if she wished to hear the answer.

"Not just me. Ask any elven woman how they're treated behind closed doors by men who appear to be gentlemen. The stories you'd hear could give you nightmares."

Hawke sighed, "Sometimes, it seems like humans will never get past our prejudices. It's no wonder the Dalish treat us with such hostility."

"But it isn't just humans." Tallis argued, "They're the majority, yes. But as with any race, there will always be disgusting people, willing to take advantage of others, regardless of where they came from. Women like you and I, who can handle ourselves? They never see us coming, and when they do, they regret it. That's how we overcome prejudice. By learning to respect ourselves. Surprising people, and demanding their respect. Because if we can't respect ourselves, who will?"

Hawke smiled at her, finding a kindred spirit in the small fiery woman who was as skilled with words and performance as she was with her daggers. Despite her reservations about the woman, she was slowly starting to see her as more of a friend than a possible adversary she was allying with simply because she had little other choice.

"The banquet. That's our way in." Tallis said, getting them back on track, "We don't have to win the hunt, but it would gain you some respect with the nobility after being gone for a year."

Hawke faced her, "Tallis, look at me. Do I look like I care about getting respect from the nobility? Besides, wouldn't it be easier to sneak into the chateau if I don't draw attention to myself?"

"Hawke, I have known you for almost thirteen years." Fenris muttered from behind her, incredulous, "Unless you're in battle, it is impossible for you to avoid drawing attention to yourself, and you never back down from a challenge."

She simply glowered at him, "This is different. Up to the battle with the Arishok, I was trying to make myself known. I was trying to establish a respectable name for my family, and to keep them safe, but after they all died, I just didn't really see the point anymore. Why do you think I left? I didn't want to become Champion. I didn't want to become Viscountess. I didn't want any of the pomp and glory. My departure from Kirkwall was sorely overdue."

"Well for someone who doesn't like the spotlight, you really seem to have a knack for getting stuck in it." Tallis said, her lips pulling to the side in a smirk.

Hawke groaned, "Tell me about it."

"So… are we aiming to win this thing?" Tallis asked after a moment, back to business.

"Well, I didn't just come out here to sit on my ass all day." Hawke muttered, "Let's just see what we find out here."

They had barely taken two steps, when a male voice interrupted, bellowing from across the clearing in barely comprehensible Fereldan, "I've hearrrrrd of you, Ferheldahn." They all turned to see a middle-aged man with dark hair and a pinched face stalking up to meet them and looking at her like she had five heads. Hawke almost strained herself trying to understand him, and she couldn't stop the eyebrow that lifted nearly to her hairline when he said, "You are supposed to be a Champion of some backwatherr city in the Free Marches."

"Champion, and former Viscountess." She added, and Fenris looked at her. He knew the only time she bothered with her former title was when she was in the presence of someone she knew she didn't like and wanted to subtly make them aware of her capabilities. Never mind the fact that the title didn't carry quite so much weight now that former was added to it, but it still served a purpose, "And it might be a backwater city, but it's my backwater city."

"Obviously." He replied, his mouth turning down in disgust, "I can't imagine any other type of city that would vote a Fehreldahn into power."

"What can I say?" She responded, shrugging, "People just love me."

"I don't know what makes you think you can mingle with your betters, but I certainly won't be happy to share the hunting grounds with some Ferheldahn tuhrneep."

"I suppose what you're so desperately trying to call me is a turnip, correct? Referring to how I apparently fell off the turnip cart?" She asked, her mouth cracking into a wry grin, "Oh ho, that's funny. I'll tell you what: How about you stay on your side of the hunting grounds, and I'll stay on mine? There, problem solved!"

She pushed past him, but he stopped her with a breath of laughter, and a quip that was perfectly understandable even with his accent, "A Fereldan turnip, elven trash and a dog, making nice with higher beings. Unbelievable."

Her eyes narrowed. She knew he was baiting her, trying to rile her up, and Maker, it was working. But she was already annoyed by her earlier conversation with the Duke, and she wasn't a Viscountess anymore, and they weren't inside the Chateau, where the desire to appear proper, and collected outweighed any hostility. They were in the middle of nowhere, in the wilderness, and the only thing resembling nobility was the animal kingdom. Who was she trying to please? Suddenly her desire to make nice with the nobility had vanished altogether as she whirled back to face him with a wide grin, "Well, you've awakened my competitive streak. Let's just see how unbelievable it is when your prize gets pulled out from under you by a collection of elven trash, a dog, and a Ferheldahn who fell off the turnip cart."

A snicker that she assumed was Tallis came from over her shoulder at her exaggerated impersonation of his accent, but she ignored it. Hawke was certain her companions could practically see the waves of anger radiating from her as she turned and stalked off into the clearing without anything further passing between her and the rude hunter.

Not even an hour into the hunt, and my impression of Orlesians has already plummeted into the ground.

"Five sovereigns says she aims to take back the biggest wyvern out there today." Tallis mumbled, leaning in towards Fenris.

"Six says they both get one, but she still wins," Fenris countered.

Hawke shot a look over her shoulder, glaring at Fenris, who was staring at Tallis, an eyebrow raised upwards on his forehead, "I may be human, but I can still hear you, you know."

A moment of silence passed before Tallis said, "I'll take that bet."

Hawke rolled her eyes, "Is this what you were doing all those times I took Varric with us, Fenris? Maker, it's no wonder you were always short on money."

"I didn't always lose."

"I find that difficult to believe."

"Sometimes Isabela did."

Hawke's hand lifted to her forehead, massaging her temples with her thumb and forefinger, "Maker, kill me now."