"You're a fool if you think you can outrun your destiny, Nasara."
"No? I wouldn't fucking bet on it."
There was a slight niggling in her arm, which soon turned to sharp little pinpricks. It roused her from her unconsciousness bit by bit, until she finally opened her eyes.
Nas was lying on her side, crushing her left arm. She could feel the rough wood underneath her, but the sunlight danced along her skin and a breeze ruffled her hair. Moaning as she turned, Nas tried to push herself up, but was stopped as she realised her hands were bound. She looked down to see the two black leather bands had somehow linked themselves together. Using her elbows, she managed to prop herself up enough to see she was sitting in the back of a wagon. Two large crates were by her side, and she guessed that was what she was in to start with.
"You're awake."
Her head snapped around to see Daern riding a pure black horse. The shadows seemed to surround the horse as well, and she shuddered to think what kind of beast it actually was.
"Really? How'd you guess?"
Daern chuckled, much to her surprise. She narrowed her eyes at him and studied him, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. She could have sworn that she had never seen him before in her life. He could have just looked like someone she had met, maybe even killed.
He continued to watch her with a smug look on his face. His eyes were so empty and yet she could see the amusement in them. The one thing she knew for sure was that he scared her, for more than one reason.
They continued studying each other for longer than she cared to admit.
Eventually, Nas found her voice. "Who are you?"
"I am Daern. I thought we had established that much."
"Oh, you're real cute."
"Thank you."
Nas frowned and closed her mouth. She wanted to throw a nice flaming ball of magic at him, but she could feel it was being subdued. It was like something had put a layer of thick glue over her skin, stopping her magic from being released. Just as she was about to open her mouth with a rather colourful insult, there was a shout from up ahead.
Daern nudged his horse forward, moving out of her sight. She tried to turn her body to see what was happening, but it was difficult to move in such a small space.
Before she could get a good look, Daern appeared again atop his horse. With fluid movements, he raised his leg and dismounted. He patted the beast's neck and it shook its head in a whinny. Nas's eyes widened as the horse reared and the shadows around it started to get darker and thicker. It engulfed the horse and with a whoosh, the shadows and the horse were gone. Nas felt the stunned look on her face, but she couldn't change it. Turning to Daern, he gave her a curious look. Nas blinked and her face turned back into its confused frown.
"Sorry to have to do this again."
"Do what-"
Her words were cut short as Daern reached over to her. He grabbed her arm but Nas pulled it away. She kicked out as he reached for her again, and she was glad at the crunch that accompanied it. Daern was lurched backwards, and he stumbled, holding his face.
When he pulled his hand away, Nas gulped. She saw the shadows pulsing around him and they seemed to move quicker. She could see the ice cold look on his face as blood streamed down his mouth and over his chin.
With speed she couldn't comprehend, Daern disappeared into the shadows and reappeared by her side. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, causing some kind of noise to escape her lips.
"Do you think this is a game?" he hissed. His voice was shadowed by another inhuman voice. Everything around him radiated power that she didn't understand. His grip pulled at her hair and Nas grit her teeth against the pain. He looked deep into her eyes and she could see the blackness there was swirling too. It was as if he was made of shadows.
Suddenly, his faced softened. He let her go and pushed her away, jumping down from the cart. He grabbed the edge of a crate and pulled a side off with ease.
"Get in."
"I'm not getting in a fucking-"
Shadows surrounded her, covering her in sticky black tendrils. They wrapped themselves around her waist, arms and legs and effortlessly lifted her from the wagon. They dragged her kicking and screaming into the crate. Nas saw a glimpse of Daern's stony face before the crate was sealed and she was engulfed by darkness.
"What do you mean by 'gone', Aveline?"
"Gone. Taken. Vanished. Kidnapped. Take your pick."
Aveline grabbed the pair of trous from the floor and shoved them roughly into the satchel she was holding. Donnic stood ten paces away from her, watching her with his arms crossed. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't stop packing. The room around them was small, but it was enough for their needs. They had one of the biggest rooms in the barracks. They were lucky.
"But where are you going to go?"
Aveline sighed in frustration before standing straight and facing him. His wonderfully warm brown eyes watched her and she hated the sadness she saw in them.
"I'm going to go to the Brecillian forest where she was taken and try to retrace her steps. I've sent word to all the notable people in Ferelden, as well as Knight-Commander Cullen in Kirkwall. The queen even suggested sending a letter to the Empress of Orlais and the King of Antiva. I'll see what I find first before getting the royalty involved… I have to find her, Donnic. She's my best friend."
Her husband nodded gently, and in the private presence of her husband, Aveline let her shoulders slump. She felt the worry stir deep within her, and the guilt about leaving her alone in the forest with no protection. She should have stayed with her, she should have…
Donnic wrapped his strong arms around her, and Aveline breathed in his wonderful smell. It was a mixture of oil and metal. There was also a hint of wildflower on him where he patrolled the palace and the fields around them. She wanted nothing more than to bring him with her, for comfort more than anything, but she knew that Denerim needed a Guard-Captain. She was surprised when the position was offered to her on her arrival to Ferelden. The queen and accepted her into the guards, and when she had received a glowing letter of recommendation from Cullen, she was put forward for the position and she got it. It was good to be in control again, and having Donnic as her second was an added bonus.
But it still didn't feel like home. Yes, she was an honoured war hero. Yes, she was now the Guard-Captain to royalty. Yes, she was being selfish… but she missed Kirkwall. She missed the people that had become friends. She missed seeing all those familiar faces, walking through the Viscount's halls. More than anything, she missed following Hawke. After all the trouble that they managed to get themselves into, Aveline had never been happier than when she was dealing justice Nas's way.
She sighed. Giving Donnic one last kiss, Aveline turned and walked from the barracks. As the door closed, she sent a silent prayer to the Maker. Please, keep him safe.
There was a loud creak before the crate door was pulled open again. Nas didn't look at whoever it was. She lay in the foetal position, as it was the most comfortable one she could get into in such a small space.
It was hard not to kick out at whoever was by her feet. She knew that she would deal some damage, but the memory of Daern's face was enough to subdue the urge. There was some kind of grunt, but Nas still didn't look down. She didn't even blink. And then there was a pressure on her ankles before her body was yanked effortlessly downwards. The wood scraped against her side and she cried out as she was brought into the chill of the evening.
Her vision was momentarily impaired as she was righted. The hands were holding her under her armpits, as one would pick up a small child. Her feet were dangling several inches from the ground. Nas felt that her hands had become unbound, but the bracelets still hung heavily on her wrists.
Looking up with stinging eyes, Nas saw the beast of a man that was holding her. He was bigger than any Qunari that she had ever faced, even bigger than the Arishok. He had a mop of greasy hair on his head that was a mess of tangles and knots. It hung over his face, blocking her view. She wanted to glare into his stupid eyes and maybe even go for a slap or two. The man grunted again, but this time it was softer, almost like a whimper. She was set of gently onto the floor that all anger seemed to disappear.
He let her go and took a step back whilst wringing his hands. Nas frowned, wondering what this creature was. He was muscled up to the neck but his clothes were dirty and his boots had holes in them.
She opened her mouth to speak when the man looked up and then down quickly. He bowed to her a little and then turned and walked away. There was a crunching sound and Nas saw what the man had been looking at.
Daern walked in her view, blocking all sight of the giant man.
Nas found herself looking up at the shadow-man. Seeing him in the dark was even more foreboding than in the light. He seemed to shift from a body to the darkness. It was hard to keep her focus on him because as soon as she looked at a particular place, it would dissolve into the shadows.
She crossed her arms and looked away, determined to ignore him. Her side still burned and she could feel the warmth of blood seeping down her leg.
Daern's eyes suddenly went to her side and even through the haze of evening, it was if he could see perfectly. He took two long strides towards her and reached out to touch her. Nas jumped back as if he was made of fire and she could swear that she saw sadness flit over his face.
The shadow-man stood up straight and gestured to a small group of men sat around a campfire about twenty paces away. They were off road on a rocky surface and their camp was covered by a large rock that towered over their left side, hiding the firelight from the main road's view. The smell of something meaty drifted over to her and despite herself, she felt her stomach rumble and her mouth water. Ignoring Daern, Nas stomped forward but stopped as the pain in her side made her stumble. Daern grabbed her arm and steadied her, but Nas ripped it from his grasp. She wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction.
As she approached the small group, five pairs of eyes turned to her. It was a colourful bunch to say the least. The giant was sat towards the back cradling a bowl that looked like a thimble in his huge hands.
The man closest to her was aged, at least fifty or so. He looked like he could still wield a greatsword however, and his flickering silver aura told her that he was either a psychopath, or a serious man. The man sat to his right was a huge man with skin as black as night, and strange markings spread all over his body. They looked like some kind of symbol, but Nas had never seen a man with such dark skin before. His hair was cut short to a thin layer on his head. His dark eyes shimmered from the light and his aura shone a brilliant gold. The boy beside him had an aura that sparkled with all different shades of blue and yellow. She could see from his big eyes that he wasn't old at all. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. He was a scrawny thing with shaggy hair and curious eyes.
The last man around the campfire was the man who caught her attention the most. He had a perfectly sculpted body and beautiful golden hair. However her eyes were drawn to the horrific scar that marred the right side of his face. It looked like something had clawed him as there were three distinct jagged lines. His right eye was completely white and the corner of his eyes was pulled downwards slightly, as was his lip.
"Looks like she's taken a fancy to you, Rick."
Nas felt the heat of shame in her cheeks as the group giggled. She looked down and then up again, almost thankful to see the marred man was smiling along with his fellows.
Daern walked into view and past her, sitting down next to the serious man. Nas looked behind her and wondered how far she could get in the darkness.
"I wouldn't recommend it, Nasara. Archer here would pin you down before you could get ten steps away."
Nas sent a glare at Daern before looking at the young lad. He gave her a bashful smile and then turned his attention back to his bowl. She shifted from one foot to another, debating whether or not she should sit. The chill was making the ends of her fingers start to swell and a shiver came over her.
"Sit down would you girl? You're making me head spin," said the serious man without looking up from his dinner. Nas walked slowly around the group before sitting on the floor slightly away from them. She was closer to the giant, which in some strange way, she preferred.
It should have been intimidating, having something so big at her back, but Nas found the giant's aura comforting. It was a shimmering blue, and painstakingly similar to-
No. Don't even think his name. It won't help you.
Nas swallowed back the lump in her throat and brought her hand to rest on her womb. It was a slight movement but she felt all eyes briefly flickered to her. These men were on an edge that Nas was all too familiar with. She knew instantly then what they were.
"You're mercenaries."
They all turned to her. The darkness around her seemed to hold it's breath and Nas felt herself shift uncomfortably. Instinctively, she started to shuffle back, only to be stopped as she hit the giant's boot.
Suddenly, the dark-skinned man laughed.
It was a deep, booming sound that vibrated through her chest. The older man laughed as well, until the entire group were laughing at her. Surprisingly, Nas was furious. She then noticed the wineskins lying around the fire. She shook her head and folded her arms over her knees, sighing.
The men started talking between themselves, eating whatever was in the pot hanging over the fire. Her stomach growled but she wasn't offered any food. She was beginning to wonder why they had taken her from the crate when something pulled the shoulder hem of her dress. Nas frowned and turned to see the giant staring at her. She could make out a pair of blindingly beautiful eyes from underneath the greasy mess of hair hanging over his face.
He grunted at her, drawing her attention to the half-empty bowl in his hands. He lifted it to her, and she saw he was giving her his stew.
Confusion swept over her then.
What the hell was this?
She had been kidnapped. This wasn't the first time it had happened, but this was by far the strangest abduction. Usually she was taken to a place, usually somewhere dark and dank, subdued and left until she was saved by her companions.
But this? This was… weird. She had been bound, yes. Put into a tight place, yes. But let out? Brought to the camp? Offered food? No. Never.
The giant blinked at her and his aura flickered a deep, sad blue. Nas reached forward in her confusion and took the bowl. She could make out a small smile and his aura flushed a happy yellow. She turned around and brought the stew to her lips, draining the contents without chewing the chunks. At one point, some potato got stuck in her throat and she coughed so violently that stew sprayed from her mouth and some even through her nose.
This caused another round of laughter from the group.
"Take it easy, girl. Ain't enough for you to go round spittin' it out."
Nas studied the man from the rim of the bowl. He had lines on his face from a life of hardship, and scars over his skin from no doubt multiple fights. There was something about him, something familiar that she couldn't quite place.
The stew was heavy in her belly and it brought a wave of exhaustion over her. She listened to the men talk about something trivial before her head began to fall forward and her eyes started to close.
The world around her went vertigo and she felt weightlessness before being put back into what she guessed was the crate. There was a brush of something cold on her leg before the stinging went, leaving her to completely fall into the Fade, but not before a whisper of something foreign brushed her ears.
"Este re, Felethm'lin."
The pain rushed through him, making him stumble. He stopped and leant forward onto a broken tree trunk. His breathing was laboured and he cursed himself for letting his body become so slack. The weight of the sword on his back was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and parts of him that he hadn't used in years were aching.
The forest around him was eerily silent, except for the scurrying undergrowth every now and then. He moved to step forward but cried out as his knee buckled and he fell into the curve of the trunk. His sword dug into his back, and in the shadow of twilight, Fenris admitted defeat.
He forced himself into a sitting position and drew the sword from his back. He laid it flat over his lap and stared into the polished metal.
In his haste, he hadn't brought any supplies, any food or water. He hadn't taken anything from the hut except his sword and armour. His hand flew to his chest where his clawed hand wrapped around the small silver locket. The aching in his chest began then, and this time it wasn't from exhaustion. He ground his teeth together, fighting back the pain.
Finally, he sighed. He put his face in his hands and tried to gain control of his emotions.
Part of his knew that he had lost her trail miles ago. He had just been running ever since. He didn't know whether he was running further towards her or further away. He couldn't think about it. He couldn't face the fact that he had absolutely no idea where his wife was. He didn't know why she had been taken. He didn't know where she was being taken. He… he just didn't know.
The anger welled up inside his. It was a huge ball of fire in his chest that was burning him from the inside out. The forest around him was cast in an otherworldly blue light as his markings reacted to his emotions.
Fenris let out a cry and struck out until his hand connected with something hard. There was a satisfying crunch as splinters of wood flew from the tree and bounced off the bushes around him. There was some pain in his fist but he revelled in it. It was easier to concentrate on the physical pain rather than the heart-crushing emotional pain. He could understand physical pain. He could deal with it.
It was this pain that brought him back into his right mind. A small list formed in his head, a list from his days on the run.
Food. Water. Shelter. Warmth. Rest.
He got to his feet and started to follow his list, keeping his mind clear of everything. Especially Nasara's wonderful face.
The sun kissed the horizon gently, but Varric didn't notice. The morning was always a peaceful time for him. He would always try and wake up just a few minutes before sunrise to watch it. He was a fan of imagery and beauty, being a weaver of stories. But this morning he hardly noticed.
The sound of the city filled his ears and he kept his head low. The hood of his cloak was pulled down and because of his size, people just ignored him, thinking him some lost kid. He played this to his advantage, moving through the throng of people practically invisible. Bianca sat comfortably by his side, but even her smooth surface couldn't bring his spirits up.
He was cold. He was tired. He was hungry. And he missed his family.
He never intended to leave them again. Ever. He would find somewhere safe for them both to live; he would keep them safe and provide for them. He had plans of moving into the city a couple of months after what happened in Kirkwall blew over, staring his own little merchant business. He would make dwarven bows and crossbows, maybe start a trading link with Orzamar. He would keep Merrill and Tamlen protected, maybe by buying out the Templars. His son would grow up in a place where there was no fighting. He would send him to school, get him educated in something and keep him as far away from the underworld as he possibly could.
But life had its ways of keeping misery alive.
What happened in Kirkwall was starting a war. The mages across the sea were turning on the Templars, and they were beginning to learn their own strengths. He didn't know if it was a good thing or not. Some mages would only seek freedom, others would seek power.
Power in the hands of fools was never a good thing.
He turned a corner and stopped in a small alleyway. Varric pulled down his hood and brushed his hair back with his hand. Exhaustion was tugging at him. He had spent almost all his money buying his way to Gwaren. He had only just made it to the city but it had been three straight days of travel.
Varric had only been to Gwaren twice in his life, and it was just as unremarkable as the last two times. The city smelled like piss and salt. The people smelled even worse. It was typical port town. Plenty of ships, plenty of brothels and plenty of taverns.
He hadn't spotted Isabella's ship in the port, but for all he knew, she could have lost it already in a game of poker.
He smiled at the memories, but it was quickly snuffed as reality crushed his shoulders. He pulled up his hood again and started through the dirty streets. He opened the door to the first tavern and went straight to the barman. There were only a few stubborn drinkers still at the tables, some asleep and some still steadily drinking themselves to death.
Varric climbed onto a barstool so that the barman noticed him. He walked slowly to the dwarf and looked at him sleepily.
"I'm looking for someone."
The barman raised an eyebrow.
"A woman-"
"You and me both, mate," said the barman with a hint of laughter in his voice.
Varric didn't laugh. He continued to watch the bartender until he shifted uncomfortably.
"What kind of woman, mate?"
"Her name is Isabella, she's a Rivaini woman. A captain, if she's still got a ship-"
"About thirty, sexy as hell – dynamite in bed?"
A small smile crept over Varric's lips then. Oh, that Rivaini. The bartender chuckled and raised an empty mug. Varric sighed half-heartedly and nodded. The man poured a fresh tankard and handed it to Varric.
"She break your heart, mate?" asked the man.
Varric smiled and shook his head. "She's an old friend."
The bartender smiled knowingly, but Varric noticed the sadness in his tired eyes. He was an older man, strongly built and his black hair was sprinkled with silver. He would have been Isabella's first target.
The dwarf took a sip of the ale and the taste melted his insides. Before he knew it, the tankard was empty and he was falling asleep on the stool.
"Need a room, mate? You look like shit."
Varric let out a small laugh and was about to reply with something witty when he was cut off by a yawn. He nodded his head and the bartender gestured for him to follow. He was taken to a small room, basic, with a double bed. Varric handed the man five silvers and the bartender left him in peace.
Varric shuffled forward, dropping his pack and cloak on the floor. He kicked off his boots and then fell onto the scratchy sheets. He didn't even bother to get in the covers. Sleep was pulling him down but Varric found himself reaching over to the bare, cold left side of the bed. He wrapped his hands in the sheets.
"Goodnight, Daisy."