AN: I wasn't happy with the way this turned out the first time, so I fixed it up a bit. Chapter 4 is (finally) in the works and should be up soon. Thanks for reading, and remember, Bioware owns all!
Gray clouds gathered ominously as Cassidy nervously smoothed her palms over the skirt of her robe. She turned this way and that, trying in vain to examine the difficult angles of her reflection.
"Are you quite certain you not wish me to assist with your hair, my lady?" Oranna fretted behind her. "Mistress Hadriana always was quite pleased."
Cassidy tugged on one of the cropped crow-black strands in question. "After seven years of this mad city, I'm just grateful I have some on my head," she chuckled ruefully.
Oranna's lips twitched fleetingly. "As you say, my lady," she murmured. She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she took in the entirety of Cassidy's robe of deep blue wool, threaded with silver. "Though if—if it's not too bold to say, lady," she offered, "I doubt Ser Fenris will notice."
Cassidy caught the elven girl's shy smile of feminine commiseration in the mirror and could not help but grin back. "I think that's as good as I'll get," she trilled.
"Better than that, my lady," Oranna assured her. "As always."
It was not a long walk from her estate to the decrepit mansion Fenris called home, but the prospect of rain had Cassidy glancing nervously at the sky every few steps. Her heartbeat quickened in tandem with the rhythm of her footsteps on the neatly-cobbled streets. She felt naked without her staff; half-a-dozen times she started back to fetch it, and half-a-dozen times she made a defiant about-face back toward Fenris's mansion. Tonight, she determined stubbornly, she would be just Cassidy.
She could see the front door gaping open from across the courtyard. Cassidy wound her trembling hands into her robes and stepped over the threshold. Voices drifted down the stairs from the large central chamber. Something inside her sank past her stomach and into her boots as she realized Fenris was not alone. She paused in the doorway, watching with mounting dread as the scene unfolded before her.
"And you're certain it's her?" Fenris's gravelly baritone cracked sharply through the mansion's stale air.
"An elf, matching the description you provided, on the ship you named," Aveline replied wearily. It sounded as though she had been through this several times. "And alone," she added pointedly, "as far as I could tell."
Fenris slammed his palms into the flimsy table. "That's not good enough!" he snarled. "I need to know if it's a trap!"
Aveline stood abruptly, expression cold at the implicit insult. "I did you a favor, Fenris," she said frostily. "It's on you from here." She spotted Cassidy hovering uncertainly in the doorway and shook her head in exasperation. "You talk to him, Hawke—I've had my fill for the day." She pushed past her fellow Fereldan and stalked out of the ruined mansion.
Fenris shoved himself away from the table; the violent motion sent some of the empty wine bottles tumbling to the floor with a dissonant clink. "Venhedis faasta vas!" he swore, dragging a hand through his hair.
Cassidy slid a foot across the musty carpet and glanced at the wreckage of furniture and wine bottles. "I'm sure the table's very sorry for belonging to Danarius first," she teased gently, stooping to gather the scattered bottles. "You're probably its favorite squatter."
Fenris glared at her, green eyes sparking with frustration. "Of course you laugh at me," he muttered darkly. He began to pace restlessly, kicking up dust as he wore a track in the molding rug. "It's my sister," he explained tightly. "I've found her."
Thunder rumbled into the shocked silence. "Congratulations," Cassidy said flatly, feeling as though the sudden emptiness would swallow her whole. "Right? This is good news?"
"I wish I knew for certain," Fenris confessed. "I followed up on Hadriana's information—every word she said was true. Varania left Magister Ahriman's service and went to Minrathous. She isn't a slave, Hawke," he finished, and the corners of his mouth twitched in a tentative smile. His eyes shone with something like pride as he whispered, "My sister—free."
Varania. Cassidy turned the foreign syllables over in her mind, trying to picture the woman to whom the name belonged. Rain began to tap insistently on the patched roof. "And this is you celebrating?" she asked in confusion, gesturing to the splintered, much-abused table. "Maker forbid you ever get bad news."
"Laugh it up, Hawke," he sighed resignedly. "It took every coin I had but I managed to do all this without drawing Danarius's attention—but the more it appears he doesn't know anything, the more I'm convinced he knows everything." He kicked viciously at a wine bottle and sent it clattering across the film of grime on the floor. "I sent word to Varania—she didn't believe me at first but I convinced her to meet me here, in Kirkwall. Aveline agreed to keep an eye out for Varania's ship in the harbor, and now she's here! She's agreed to meet me at the Hanged Man!"
"I know I smell a trap when everything goes according to plan," Cassidy drawled.
"This isn't some joke!" Fenris burst out angrily. "You don't know Danarius like I do—he's a magister. Minrathous is the seat of his power. He could have heard something, anything—even a whispered rumor would be enough for him." He turned the full force of his gaze to her face; there was intensity in the spring-colored stare she had rarely seen. "Come with me, Hawke," he urged. "I need you there when I meet her."
A hollow, counterfeit joy threatened to choke her as the not-quite-right words fully registered. "We'll go tomorrow," she promised, dusting herself off. She favored him with a brilliant, glittering smile that felt as though it would split her face in two. "You'd better get some rest," she advised, striving for a normal tone. "I won't let you sleep too late."
She had the irrational thought that the relief and gratitude that swept through his expression didn't suit him at all—she much preferred him scowling. And sister-less. "This means a lot to me," he said softly. "Thank you."
It was raining in earnest as Cassidy stepped into the Hightown night. Wet sheets slanted sideways with the spring breeze; water seeped up from the hem of her robe as she dashed through puddles. Her damp hair swished limply across her field of vision, brushing her cheeks with its clammy tendrils. The tangled skein of frustration and disappointment wound its way through her limbs, speeding her feet past her estate and toward Lowtown.
The Hanged Man was always crowded in bad weather, but Varric was easy to spot. He held court at a table close to the oversized hearth, regaling a captive audience with a much-embellished version of the events at the Bone Pit. He winked and waved when he noticed she'd come in; she mustered a smile for the barrage of curious stares that turned her way. "Didn't you have other plans?" he asked curiously as he finished his tale and the crowd dispersed.
Cassidy snorted with mirthless laughter. "Plans change," she sighed. She felt as battered as the rain-swept window. Maybe she should have let Oranna fuss with her hair, she reflected morosely, as she sank into an empty chair next to the dwarven storyteller.
As though by magic, a full tankard of ale appeared in front of her. "Don't you start," he warned her laughingly. "I don't think this city could take both of you brooding." He grinned, impervious to the glare she sent him. "It'll happen, Hawke," he assured her, his smirk softening slightly.
It was difficult to maintain the strange, toxic heat that had so consumed her scarcely moments before. The noise and laughter of the tavern warmed her as surely as the cheerful blaze beside her, and she could only shake her head in fond exasperation. "Never mind me," Cassidy said breezily, "you'll never believe this…"
The morning air was redolent with the promise of more rain as Cassidy and Fenris made their way to Lowtown. She was occasionally forced to jog in order to keep up with his erratic, brisk pace. His moss-colored eyes were bright with nervous hope; he practically vibrated with tension, almost giddy with anxious excitement as he peppered the drawn silence with questions.
"Will she look like me?"
"Will she want to stay longer?"
"Will she tell me about our mother?"
Cassidy could give him no answer besides a bemused smile as she watched his mood shift from anticipation to withdrawal and back again. She felt utterly helpless as a succession of contradictory emotions waxed and waned behind his eyes, pulling her heart with them.
The patchy clouds drifted lazily across the sun, throwing the Hanged Man into shadow as Fenris stepped inside. Only the most dedicated of Kirkwall's wastrels populated the common room first thing in the morning; Cassidy suspected most of them had not even bothered to stumble home.
She would have stood out anyway, Cassidy mused, in this den that stank of vomit and discontent. Her spine was ramrod straight as she stared aimlessly into an untouched mug of ale. Her hair was a bright red that rivaled Aveline's; she painted dark rouge onto her lips. When she lifted her eyes to scan the crowd, they were a green identical to Fenris's. A sad half-smile hovered on her painted lips, and her gaze lingered hungrily on Fenris's features. "It really is you," she murmured
"I remember you," Fenris breathed, almost reverently. "We used to play together while Mother worked. You called me—"
"Leto," she interrupted softly. "Your name is Leto."
"And you are Varania. My sister." He took a tentative step toward her.
She turned, hiding her face from him. Her arms crossed protectively over her torso, and she seemed to somehow diminish into herself.
Fenris frowned, bewildered and hurt. "What's wrong?" he asked.
An inexplicable dread hardened Cassidy's gut into an icy lump as movement at the top of the common room stairs drew her attention. For one wild moment, she prayed she was wrong, prayed the shadowed figures were merely more patrons coming down for breakfast. All such illusions shattered violently at the sight of the robed man leading a contingent of masked and armored men down the staircase. "I'll give you a hint," she bit out, and pointed.
"Ah, my little Fenris—predictable, as always."
Shock wiped the shy joy from Fenris's expression; Cassidy's heart twisted as she realized that, for all his talk of traps, he had never really expected Danarius to be here. He whirled furiously on Varania, hurt and rage hardening his gaze to black glass. "Tell me you didn't," he demanded harshly.
The sorrow and pity in her painted eyes made the betrayal that much worse. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, Leto."
"You—you led him here!" he snarled incredulously.
The robed man laughed silkily. "Don't blame your sister, Fenris," he chided, as though his former slave had merely quarreled over a spilt tea cup. "She did as any good citizen of the Imperium should."
Fenris's features twisted into a mask of hate. "I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius," he growled, "but I won't let you kill me to get them."
Danarius's thin lips quirked upwards in a supercilious smirk. "How little you know, my pet," he chuckled.
Cassidy instantly loathed the predatory gleam in the magister's eye as he surveyed the elf at her side. "You must be Danarius," she interjected. "Funny. I thought you'd be taller."
Danarius turned his cold, appraising stare on her. "And this is your new mistress, I take it? The Champion of Kirkwall!" His laugh was dagger-cruel. "She is…lovely."
"Fenris doesn't belong to anyone," Cassidy spat. The unexpected rage made her tremble. "He is free."
"Is that jealousy I hear? Not that I blame you." The magister's eyes continued to gleam hungrily as he returned his attention to Fenris. "He does have so many…talents, doesn't he?"
"Shut your mouth, Danarius," Fenris hissed. His markings filled the air around him with an electric blue crackle.
Annoyance flickered over Danarius's expression. "The word is 'Master'!"
Cassidy had had enough. She twitched her hand and fire sparked to life in her palm.
The common room seemed to explode into motion. Cassidy had to duck as Fenris ripped his greatsword from its scabbard. Danarius seemed to slither behind a contingent of his men, using them as a shield against his former slave's fury. Ice and lightning shot through the air as Cassidy picked off the slavers one by one. She spotted Varania in a corner of the room, a dagger held to her palm. Rage swelled within her, and Cassidy didn't even bother casting a spell: her fist connected squarely with Varania's cheek with a wet crunch. The elf crumpled, the dagger spinning uselessly from her hand.
A hail of brightly-fletched bolts whistled through the stale air as Varric entered the fray, and the remaining slavers dropped as Bianca sang her lullaby. For a moment, it looked as though Fenris's revenge would be easy—almost anticlimactic. She turned to say as much to Varric. But then Courage surged through her consciousness, a telltale warning that beings from the Fade were approaching. Shades burst from clouds of Fade-smoke; rage demons left scorching trails in the seasoned wood floor. Cassidy quickly eliminated all she could reach, putting her back to the wall as she concentrated on keeping the dangerous foes off Fenris's back as he fought his way to his most hated enemy.
The battle was brutal. Danarius summoned his lackeys from Fade almost more quickly as they could banish them. Courage began to tire as Cassidy juggled her energy between powerful healing and attacks in quick succession. Shades choked the room, clustered around her like sharks sensing blood in the water. She lost sight of Fenris behind a fresh wave of skeletal corpses Danarius pulled from under the Hanged Man's floorboards. Desperation fueled her exhausted limbs as she froze, scorched, and battered a path through the wall of shades.
And then suddenly the shades vanished with a cacophony of shrieks. Cassidy burst through the lingering haze just in time to watch Fenris's blade cast Danarius to the floor. The icy burn of battle faded as she watched the magister fall. On his hands and knees Danarius started to make his way toward the door.
He was no match for Fenris's speed and fury. The lyrium crackled to life under his skin as he effortlessly lifted the pathetic figure by the throat, the magister's feet dangling several inches off the floor.
"You are no longer my master!"
Danarius's throat collapsed under the relentless pressure of Fenris's grip. The clawed gauntlets tore through skin and muscle, spraying his lifeblood across the rafters. The magister's body crumpled to the floor, a bloody and broken shell. Some small, perverse part of Cassidy had to laugh at the fragility of it all. Strange that a few lucky hits with a sword was all it took to bring down the man who had seemed so untouchable for the better part of six years.
Fenris's angry glow only intensified as he turned on his sister. She crouched defensively on the common room stairs and lifted her gaze to her brother's face. "I had no choice, Leto," she said. Cassidy felt a savage satisfaction rip through her at the sight of the ugly, purpling bruise where she'd struck Varania's cheek.
"Don't call me that," Fenris growled. "How could you do this to me?"
Varania cast a mournful glance towards Danarius's corpse. "He promised to make me his apprentice," she explained, tone full of regret. "I would have been a magister, in time."
"You sold me out-to become one of them?" The horror and rage was plain on his face as he took a step towards his sister. He wound his gauntlet into her witch-red hair and forced her gaze to his markings. "Do you see what they did to me?" he shouted.
Varania bit out a harsh, bitter laugh as she struggled vainly to free herself from his grasp. "I see, Leto," she hissed. "More than you know. You said you never asked for this life," she explained with vicious relish, "but that's not true. You wanted the markings-you competed for them. Were they everything you hoped they would be?"
"Why are you telling me this?" Fenris interrupted raggedly. His skin still sang with the power of his markings, his killing hand stayed temporarily by confusion.
"You used the victory boon to grant Mother and me freedom," Varania continued, heedless of the agony her words caused. She matched his furious glare with one of her own. "She died scrubbing Master Ahriman's floor! You have no idea what I've had to do since! This was my only chance!"
"It was your last chance," Fenris snarled as he raised his clawed hand. His markings brightened in preparation.
Varania's eyes widened in realization and terror as she helplessly writhed in his iron grip. "Don't do this!" she pleaded frantically. She cast about desperately for an ally, and her gaze settled on Cassidy. "Please, tell him to stop!"
Cassidy froze in indecision and shock. She cast a frenzied glance between the two elves; the moment seemed to sear into her memory. Fenris's anguish and rage were a part of her as his gaze burned into his sister's wide and fearful eyes, so like his, and she knew she could not let him do this. Not for this treacherous waste of a sister. With a reckless prayer to the Maker, she shoved herself into the narrow space between Fenris and his quarry. "Don't kill her, Fenris," she interjected urgently.
His markings blinked out abruptly, and he turned his glare on her. "She would have seen me sold to the magisters without a second thought," he protested angrily. "Why shouldn't I kill her?"
"She's your family," Cassidy urged, willing him to understand what she meant. "Sorry excuse that she is, she's family."
"You don't want to do this, Fenris," Varric added, with all the weight of someone who knew from experience. "You may not believe it now, but trust me, you'd regret it later."
Fenris's entire being seemed to tighten as he shifted his attention from Varric to Cassidy, before resettling his fury on Varania. "Get out," he snapped, shoving her away from him in disgust.
Varania cautiously picked herself up off the dirty floor, as though fearing some trick. She couldn't resist a parting shot as she reached the tavern door. "Freedom was no boon," she spat. "I look on you now and I think you got the best end of the bargain."
Fenris's stare snapped to where his sister stood, but she was already gone. "You should have let me kill her," he said flatly, his eyes on the door.
Cassidy's heart hurt to watch him struggle with the flurry of new information. "She wasn't worth it," she replied with certainty.
"I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging," he murmured, looking so lost that she ached to lead him out whatever dark place he'd fallen into, "but I was wrong. Magic has tainted that too. I am alone."
Cassidy brushed her fingers against the red scarf he'd kept tied around his wrist. "You know that's not true, Fenris," she chided in a whisper. "I'm still here."
Fenris dragged his gaze away from Danarius's corpse. His expression was soft, tender as he brought his palm up to caress her cheek. The worn red cloth flared between them like an ember. Then the moment was gone, and he was stumbling out the door into the Lowtown afternoon.
It was a little like magic, she mused as she trailed slowly after him-she could no more stop loving him than she could stop being a mage.