A/N: Not as long as I intended, and not as much Qunari as I intended. From now on, I'm going to try and include at least one section per chapter from Eros, or possibly someone else left behind in Skyrim.
Althera is one of my original characters, but I don't have a particularly large role for her. I do have one other original character I'd like to introduce, but it might just have to wait until our party gets to Skyrim.
Also, starting with the next chapter, we're going to have major shifts away from canon. I had originally planned to have the group leave at the end of the DA2 events, but I figured an original storyline is much more interesting!
Breezehome
There was a reason Eros didn't own a house of her own.
It was because of thieves like herself, who could pick a lock and sneak in before anyone noticed, steal thousands of septims worth of valuable objects, then leave before anyone was the wiser.
Eros always gave Sulira a break, though; the arch-mage never spent much time at home. Rather, she was always at the College, leaving Breezehome in the ever-watchful eyes of her housecarl, Lydia. A housecarl who, fortunately for Eros, wasn't currently at Breezehome.
The thief had made quick work of the lock, and now she was sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire, trying to decide exactly what she should do next. After a while, when she was sufficiently warm, Eros stood and made her way upstairs, deciding it wouldn't hurt to steal Sulira's bed for the night; in the morning, she'd try to find Lydia and see if she had any information on where Sulira might be.
As soon as Eros opened the door to the bedroom, she could sense something was wrong. She took a step back and drew her daggers. That's when she saw the assassin.
The assassin leapt, but Eros was faster. She ducked out of the way, the assassin's blade barely gliding over her head, and turned to give a swift kick to the now off-balance assassin, who stumbled forward, her arms flailing as she tried to catch herself. Eros sheathed one dagger and grabbed the assassin by the back of her armor, forcing her to the floor. Grinding her knee into the assassin's back, she seethed, "Tell me everything."
She didn't respond.
Snarling another threat, Eros lashed out and jerked the hood from the assassin, revealing her face. "Althera?" she growled, easily recognizing the bosmer assassin from the time they spent together in the Dark Brotherhood. "Who gave you the contract for the Dragonborn?"
"I don't know who the client is," she snapped. "I'm just doing what Astrid told me."
"Don't play stupid," Eros scoffed. "You and I both know damn well that if we want to find out who a client is, we can. Who is it?"
Althera struggled against Eros, but quickly stilled when the thief's blade pressed against her now-exposed neck. "I swear—I don't know."
Eros still didn't believe her, but she also didn't feel like pressing her old friend too hard for information. "Alright, fine. You'll play stupid, and I'll play gullible, and we both go home disappointed." She slowly rose, offering Althera a hand. The other elf might have been an assassin, but she and Eros were as close to friends as thieves and murderers could get. "You wouldn't happen to know why there's a contract for the Dragonborn?"
"I don't." Althera shrugged. "I could find out, if you really want to know," she offered amiably.
"Find out." Eros didn't really care about the fact that someone was after Sulira; after all, the mage could take care of herself. What bothered her, though, was that while Brynjolf was trying to convince the Dragonborn to act, Astrid was trying to get her killed. Eros knew Astrid, and she figured there was some sort of ulterior incentive to having the Dragonborn killed.
If she had to kill the entire Dark Brotherhood to find out why, then she'd kill them. She never liked Astrid, anyway.
The Hawke Estate
"Hawke, listen to me, please."
Silence.
"Hawke, please."
More silence.
"Hawke—"
"I don't care about your damned manifesto, or the mages, or whatever it is! Leave me alone, Anders."
Sulira grimaced. Her plans to find Anders and use him to get to Kirkwall's arch-mage had fallen apart the moment she'd mentioned Hawke's helpless state. Anders had insisted they go back to the estate and check up on Hawke, though Sulira didn't see the point. It had taken nearly an hour, but Anders had finally gotten a response from him, and it was precisely the response Sulira would have given if someone were bothering her.
Of course, her yelling would've been accompanied by a little shock magic, just for good measure.
At Hawke's outburst, Leandra poked her head into the doorway. "Is everything alright?" She was dressed in a houserobe, and looked more than a little tired.
Seeing a convenient way out of "helping" with Anders' interrogation, Sulira rose and made her way to the door, offering what consolation she could to Leandra. "He's fine. Anders just wanted to check on him," she assured her, gently leading her out of the study and pulling the door shut behind them. "He had a late night."
"Not a typical night, though?" she asked, her brow creasing with worry. "Typically when he comes home so late, he's drunk and has that pirate with him." Leandra's voice hardened with obvious disapproval, but she sighed and admitted with soft concern, "When he came home alone, I was worried. I never know with him, and all those things he gets himself caught up in. Maker only knows how he does it."
Sulira forced herself not to roll her eyes. From what she'd seen, Hawke was a formidable enough warrior to take care of himself, and Leandra's concern was quite misplaced. If anything, she should be concerned that her son hadn't moved in hours after a woman had left him. Sulira's thoughts were interrupted by a gasp from Leandra.
"Oh, my," she sighed, "who left these here?" Leandra picked up an elegant bouquet of white lilies from the writing desk, then turned to direct her question to Bodahn. The dwarf, though, wasn't present; he and Sandal had been given the day off, much to Sulira's delight. The dwarves were funny little men who talked too much and tried far too hard to be polite.
"Maybe that pirate felt bad about leaving Hawke," Sulira remarked flippantly, wanting nothing more at that moment than to walk out and make her way to the Circle.
"Leaving?" Leandra gasped. "She… Isabela left him?" The woman wavered a bit, then set the flowers down and buried her face in her hands. "I told that boy she was no good, but I didn't think that…"
Her words were cut off by Hawke storming out of the study, followed closely by a similarly irate Anders. "And just where do you think you'll start?" the mage growled.
"Just think about it, Anders," Hawke shot back, grabbing his sword. "She's a pirate. Just get Varric and Aveline and meet me at the Docks."
"Hawke—" Anders' voice was cut off as he followed Hawke outside and the door slammed behind them.
Sulira rolled her eyes and headed back to her room for the time being, offering Leandra only a curt "Excuse me." But, as soon as the arch-mage had turned around, the door slammed back open.
"Leandra."
Sulira nearly ignored the halfway familiar voice and continued to the bedroom, but her curiosity got the better of her and she turned to see the red-haired woman from the night before, followed by Anders. "Leandra," the woman repeated, "if Hawke comes back, make sure he meets me at the Qunari compound right away. We're going to need his help."
Leandra turned a ghostly pale, her hands slowly reaching up to cover her mouth. "It's going to happen, isn't it? Some of the ladies were talking at the party last week—they said the Qunari were going to attack. That's what's going on, isn't it, Aveline?"
"I'm not sure," Aveline admitted. "I'm going to do everything in my power to keep an attack from happening, but I'll need Hawke's help."
"At the very least," Anders piped up, his voice strained, "we could get Fenris. He has a way with the Qunari."
The red-headed warrior nodded fervently. "You're absolutely right, Anders. I'll check the mansion. You stay here with Leandra."
The healer sighed with relief. "Of course."
Sulira raised an eyebrow, clearing her throat. "I don't wish to intervene in your… plans, but surely you don't intend to leave me here?" She gestured to herself with pursed lips, hoping to make her point even clearer. Whether it was Hawke running off to find Isabela, or Aveline dealing with the Qunari, Sulira was the arch-mage. They needed her.
But Aveline hesitated. "Perhaps you should stay here with Anders."
"And which of us is it that you don't trust?" Anders shot at her, crossing his arms.
"Will you drop the accusations, Anders? The city is facing its biggest threat in years. Give it a rest."
"I'll stay," Sulira interjected before Anders could find some other insult to toss at Aveline. It wasn't so much that she cared, but more that she knew Anders would be more than willing to let her leave and speak with the arch-mage of the Circle.
"Good." With one last nod—and a heated glance back at Anders—Aveline turned and left the estate. Leandra almost immediately sank into the chair at the writing desk, giving a dejected sigh. Anders excused himself and headed for the kitchen. Not sure what else to do until he returned, Sulira moved closer to the warmth of the fireplace.
"You don't talk about yourself much," Leandra noted quietly. "You told us a bit about your home, the other night at dinner, but that's it."
Sulira remained purposefully quiet, determined to act ignorant of the fact that Leandra was digging for her life story.
"I understand if it's because you're a mage. I just want you to know that we'll protect you from the templars."
"I don't need protecting," Sulira spat, her face creasing into the beginning of a frown. "I have the power to march single-handedly against the templars and kill them all. I have nothing to fear."
Leandra sighed and muttered something about Hawke getting himself into more trouble. A loud crash cut off her complaints prematurely.
Acting on instinct, Sulira dashed into the front room, where the noise had come from. She was met by the man from the streets the night before, the one who had run away when Anders had attempted to help. He held up his staff threateningly, his eyes wide with conviction.
Grinning, Sulira loosened her shoulders and held up her hands in answer, letting sparks fly from her fingertips. She loosed the magic, and it hit the man squarely in the chest. He flew backwards, crashing into the wall, but in his place now stood a writhing creature of flame.
By now, Anders had joined Sulira in the front room. "Demons," he gasped, drawing his own staff. "You're a blood mage," he spat.
Sulira didn't care what this man was; he was relieving her of some of her boredom. With another grin, she shot another blast of magic at him, quickly turning to the demon and blasting it with a shot of ice. Anders followed with a blast of fire, and with one final barrage of frost, the demon fell. Sulira lazily flicked a bit of shock magic at the intruder, ignoring Anders' protest.
"We needed answers!"
Again, Sulira ignored him. "Go take care of Hawke's mother. The woman is probably scared half to death." With a little frown that said Don't argue, Sulira slipped out of the room towards her bedroom.
But Anders followed anyway. "This isn't about you. That's how you see it, isn't it?" the mage accused, intercepting Sulira at the door to her room. "You're just like Merrill. No regard for the rest of the mages in Thedas, or even in Kirkwall! You have an obligation—a… a duty!—to the mages, and yet you choose to ignore it. You turn your back on them."
Sulira let out a dark chuckle. "You don't know what I've done for the mages," she muttered under her breath, a twisted smile creeping along the edge of her lips. "The College flourishes under my hand. What have you done, Anders? What have you done," she challenged, "besides cower in the shadows?"
He began to protest, but his words were cut off by the sound of a door being ripped from its hinges.
The Hanged Man
"I made a mistake."
Varric shook his head, not sure whether he was more surprised at Isabela's words or the sincere tone that accompanied them. "Look, Rivaini, I don't think the middle of a Qunari attack is the best time to discover your conscience. So, if you aren't going to help me bar this door shut…"
"But that's the problem, Varric!" Isabela sighed, pacing around the suite. "This is all my fault."
"Rivaini," Varric breathed, struggling to drag another of the low chairs to the door, "Hawke's the one you screwed over. Either talk to him, or help with the door." The dwarf shoved the chair firmly against the door, ignoring Bianca's pleas to join the fight against the Qunari. Varric liked taking risks, but he also liked cheating so those risks worked in his favor; this wasn't a scenario that he could fix.
Really, Varric wasn't much of a risk-taker at all.
He leaned against the door to catch his breath, rolling his eyes at Isabela's continued moral crisis. Suddenly, she stopped mid-step, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "That… that sounded like that crazy mage bitch Hawke brought back."
Varric groaned. He'd much rather fight the Qunari.