I grin wickedly as I sweep my newly won silvers into my coin purse.

"It seems, Havoc," I say to the devastated face of my newest victim, "That you have a ways to go before you reach the level of the Queen of the Seas. Until then you deserve a good whipping for your failure…by someone else."

I haven't sunk that low. Yet.

As the chagrined man performs his walk of shame out of the bar, a familiar brooding face walks in. I wave my hand in an embarrassing spasm to both catch his attention and rile him up. He looks up, ever watchful, and he recognizes me with a grumpy frown. He makes his way over, curling his lip as he steps disdainfully over a comatose drunk. He gives a pair of jiggling singing women a wide berth and collapses on the stool across from me.

"Always an adventure here, eh, lil' wolf?" I say, saluting him with my half-empty bottle. Fenris gives me a look just shy of a snarl before filching my ale and taking a swig. He glares at it, an insulting show of distaste.

"This tastes like urine mixed with dwarf mead," he spits.

Always ray of sunshine, our Fenris.

"Sorry the Hanged Man couldn't live up to your fine Tevinter standards," I drawl cheerfully. He doesn't respond, just gives the poor bottle a broody stare.

I've only known Fenris for two months, since Hawke picked him up from a raid on a mansion or something. I wasn't there when it happened, and the elf is difficult to befriend, but I find that I want to earn his trust…sort of. He isn't bad on the eyes either. But at the moment, I'm bored and don't feel like entertaining him.

A familiar voice catches my attention, and I look to the bar. Anders is ordering a pint of ale and he hasn't noticed us yet. I smile an idea that will hopefully ease my boredom.

"Oi, Anders!" I noisily scrape my chair back from the table. The mage looks up at the sound of his name and our eyes meet. I give him an invitingly demure wave and he begins to briskly walk in my direction, ale in hand. Then he sees who my tablemate is, and he doesn't look so eager. I watch as he gravitates between turning back and doing the polite thing by sitting with us. His better nature wins out and he reluctantly pulls up a chair. Good old Fenris scowls his disapproval. Both men are alternating between exchanging glares with each other and desperately looking to me to lead the conversation. Well, Anders is, Fenris just looks irritable, but he always looks like that so I take it as a good sign. Anyway, I'm always happy to help.

"So good of you to join us, Anders!" I cheer jovially, raising my (fenris'?) bottle to him. He nods stiffly in my direction. I smile in encouragement.

"Fenris and I were just talking about you," I say, ignoring the elf's confused and suspicious look. "He told me that you must be inclined to cross-dressing, due to your…fancy choice of outfits." I lean forward, resting my chin on my folded hands innocently. "Is that true?"

Anders bristles and shoots dagger eyes at Fenris, who is staring back with an adorably puzzled gaze. He doesn't defend himself; he's to proud. I was counting on that. I tap my chin thoughtfully.

"Granted, he said this in response to what you told me earlier, Anders," I continue slyly. Now it's the mage's turn to give me the look. Both men haven't said anything yet.

"Oh, you know, when you wondered if his very large sword was compensating for the size of his—" I gesture towards Fenris' lower half "…package?"

Fenris jumps from his chair, eyes lit up with fury. Anders reaches for his staff and rises to meet him. Both of them seem to have forgotten the hows and whys of this new argument, only that they must now defend their honour. Simple men, always ignoring logic and reason if their masculinity is challenged. This is too easy, but at least I'm not bored anymore. I lean back in my chair to watch the show.

Heavy steps trot toward me and I tense, hand poised for my daggers.

"Rivaini, I need to speak with you," Varric mutters conspiratorially in my ear. I sigh, admiring my handiwork regretfully. They have passed the hissing and spitting stage and are about to pounce. But I follow the dwarf to his room, two doors down from mine. I can tell by the set of his shoulders that he's either worried or angry. I decide to go with the latter.

"Listen, this is just a chance for those idiots to settle their little pissing contest, I'm doing this with the best of intentions," I explain to his back.

"This isn't about your games Rivaini," he says impatiently, finally turning to meet my gaze. His brow is furrowed and he fidgets restlessly.

Alright, worried then.

"What is it Varric? Writer's block? chest hair falling out? Have a fight with Bianca—?"

"Do I look like my thick curls are thinning?" he asks skeptically. I examine the luscious thatch of hair under his vest and reconsider.

"It's Bianca, then? What did you do to her, Varric Tethras!"

He just looks at me, clearly not in the joking mood he usually is. I shrug and raise an eyebrow. Varric sighs and says, "Merrill's missing, probably hurt or lost or…something."

I blink. Not what I was expecting. He didn't even use the word, 'Daisy.'

"Are you sure?" Now its my turn to be skeptical.

Varric looks helpless. "We were supposed to meet in the Lowtown market a few hours ago, but she never showed.

What is Varric doing meeting the little kitten in Lowtown? About four steamy scenarios develop in my head, but I push them away. Down to business. I'm in quest mode now. "Maybe she's in the Viscount's gardens again, or she forgot about your date and is frolicking around her hut at this very moment."

Varric shakes his head. "I've looked everywhere. Hell, I've even been to Hawke's," he grimaces. "That was an experience."

Varric and I both share a dislike for Gamlen.

"And where is Hawke in all this?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"He's out there looking, of course. You know how he is." I certainly do. That do-gooder is always out playing Kirkwall's super nanny.

I frown "And you're telling me this because…?"

Varric frowns back. "I thought you were fond of Daisy?"

I throw up my hands and say, "Of course, but she's not a child, she can look after herself. Hello? Blood magic?"

Varric stares at me with a pleading expression. We have a staring contest for a minute.

Damned dwarf…Damned elf…She'll be fine…I'm not her mommy.

Damn it all!

I concede defeat. "Where should we look next?"

...

We found Merrill in Darktown.

She was wondering around aimlessly when I spotted her pointy ears among the desperate and depraved. I grabbed Varric and Hawke and steered them in her direction.

Now, she looks at our search party with a bewildered expression.

"Strange, seeing you all here, I thought I'd be lost for days," she chirps.

"What are you doing, Daisy, we've been looking all over for you!" Varric demands with exasperation. Merrill blinks.

"I was on my way to the market, but then I ended up here. I don't know why." She turns her big elven eyes on us, one by one. "I didn't mean to raise such a fuss! Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Hawke sighs and rolls his shoulders wearily. "Well, crisis averted, I'm going home to finish my cold stew." He pats Merrill's head affectionately and melts into the crowd.

Varric and I share a bemused glance. "Alright, Daisy, let's get you home," he says.

"Oh, yes, thank you, Varric," she says sweetly, making me want to shake her with either relief or fury, I can't decide. She cluelessly turns to me and begins to tweet in my ear.

"I thought you would be busy at the Hanged Man this time of night, Isabela. Do you think you could teach me how to play that money-card game you always play…"

...

Fortunately we make it back to the Alienage without the ground opening up and swallowing us—and without losing Merrill, again.

"Here we are, home sweet home, Daisy," Varric says.

"Thank you so, so much, you two!" Merrill says again. I finally lose it, I'm honestly surprised I've lasted this long. I clasp her shoulders tightly, leaning so close that her big bright eyes merge into one.

"Don't ever, for all our sakes, go missing again," I say slowly, trying to make her understand. She nods jerkily, as if her neck is broken, and I step back. Varric is smirking at me and I grin none too nicely back. Just because I like the girl doesn't mean he can give me such all-knowing looks. His grin widens and his teeth glimmer in the glow of the moon.

With a cheery wave, Merrill skips into her rat-infested home. The dwarf and I settle for the walk back to our tavern.

I wonder if Anders and Fenris are still going at it. Probably.

...

Hawke, Merrill, Varric, Aveline, and I are on our way to brutally murder a pack of outlawed Qunari here in the Wounded Coast. It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining on the open sea, Varric and Hawke are talking shop, and Aveline and I are trading a barrage of scathing insults.

Just another day with Isabela and company. Aveline is the first to give up our verbal brawl and I content myself with watching the churning waves.

"Thank you very much for the help earlier, Varric," Merrill's lilting voice reaches my ears and I feel a spark of annoyance. I helped you too! I eavesdrop wile gazing at the water.

Varric says, "You made it back to the Alienage in one piece, then?"

Is he being sarcastic? Purposely goading me into voicing my contribution? Damn dwarf.

"I don't know how I wound up in Darktown. There are just too many corners in Kirkwall."

"Still got that ball of twine?"

What?

"I left it at my house."

A pause. I can just imagine Varric's face.

"Don't worry! I won't get lost while we're following Hawke," she says quickly.

Varric sighs "Bring it next time, just in case."

I chuckle to myself. At least I have a comrade in the newly titled Look Out For Merrill Squad.

It's a very nice day indeed.