Thanks for the reviews! Explanations, plot thickenings, etc.
Warnings: swearing, violence, and naughty Bethany references (just wait for it)
The Silent Sisters, true to their name, come out of nowhere while Marian, Garrett, Aveline and Fenris are walking back to Hightown after a night at the Hanged Man. Eight women dart from behind the pillars with knives drawn, expecting an easy mugging. Aveline and the men draw their blades and Marian extends a hand, bolts of lighting arcing from each finger into the nearest attackers.
Another wave of thieves drops from the rooftops to help their fellows. Unlike the scrappy brutes of Lowtown, these women are smart enough to peg her for a mage and target her.
The arrow rips into her side. She screams and grabs it with both hands, her staff clattering to the ground. Without thinking, she yanks it out and screams again as the barbed tip rips back through her muscle with a slosh of blood. Not all of the barbs come out. All she can do is cut the circulation to her blood vessels and try to stay on her feet.
Garrett and Fenris both yell and lunge for the archer that shot her, who falls apart in three pieces. Aveline jumps in front of her, deflecting the next wave of arrows with her shield as the men shear through the archers with their broadswords.
Marian staggers back a few paces, trembling with pain and fury. She doesn't even have to make any of the ridiculous hand gestures that mages seem so fond of: a woman freezes and another combusts and the ground opens to grab a third woman's legs, holding her helpless for the blades that descend on her. Stormclouds gather overhead and lightning arcs down, vicious forks of electricity sending the remaining women flying and charring their corpses. Her knees weaken and she sinks, bleeding, to the ground.
"Marian, are you okay—" Garrett starts toward her and stops short when he sees her face, staring at her slack-jawed.
Her hands fly to touch the mouth and nose and cheeks she's known her whole life, her real face. And she realizes that she forgot the illusion of the medieval-reality face that she's had to concentrate to maintain for weeks. Things have been so quiet that she got cocky, thinking she was getting away with it.
Her brother walks forward and grabs her shoulders, whispering, "What have you done?" Only he could manage to be pissed at her when she's just been shot.
She shakes her head. "I don't know, Garrett, it just happened," she answers, looking around at the remains of the gang members and wincing. "But I'm bleeding like a stuck pig right now."
Garrett stands up and spins around to face their companions. Aveline stares in confusion and horror at the change. Fenris, the only one who knows—until now—is unfazed, regarding her with his typical stoicism. Of course Garrett notices the non-reaction and points a finger at the elf. "You knew about this," he accuses.
Fenris shrugs. "I did," he answers, "But I promised not to tell anyone."
Marian gets to her feet and hisses as the muscles of her side flex around the wound and wet heat spills over her hip. "We need to go inside," she insists. "Then you can bitch until you run the room out of oxygen."
He spins to march into their manor across the courtyard, not looking at her. Marian looks at their companions and presses her hand against her stomach to slow the blood.
"Come on. It'll be a freaking party," she mutters, finding it hard to breathe as seizures of pain radiate from the wound.
"I'd like to hear this explanation as much as your brother does, I imagine," Aveline answers, striding toward the mansion after Garrett.
That leaves just Marian and Fenris standing out in the corpse-littered courtyard. She looks at him and grips the metal railing around the statue in the center of the courtyard in an effort to stay on her feet. "The gig is up, I guess," she says, but her voice sounds too strained even to her. "I guess I couldn't hide it forever."
He points at her side. "You are badly wounded. We should not linger here," he says, walking toward her.
"I'd rather bleed out than go listen to Garrett," she grumbles, not daring to look down at her sticky fingers. She feels lightheaded and the blood flowing over her hand grows steadier by the moment.
"Come along," he says, but rather than following her inside he bends and scoops her up in his arms. Cradled so close to his chest his face encompasses her entire field of vision as concerned eyes stare at her. "Do you need me to get the abomination?"
"It didn't hit any organs," she winces. "I can heal it."
"So why haven't you?"
"Maybe I like being carried," she responds, giving him a weak smile. Truth be told, the combination of blood loss and her little spellcasting rampage have drained her more than she wants to admit.
He pauses as they step into the foyer of her house to kick the door shut behind him. The lack of noise is conspicuous and she cranes her head to see Garrett shooing their mother off to bed. She knows it's for the best to keep hidden for a while longer, but it still irritates her that he feels like it's his decision to make.
"Maker, Hawke, she's bleeding everywhere," Aveline calls, rushing over when she spots them entering the hall. "We need to get her to her room," she adds, unnecessary as Fenris strides up the stairs without hesitation.
Garrett hurries over when they pass him, his face going pale and stricken. "Shit, Marian, I didn't realize how bad it was," he says. "You guys stay with her. I'm getting some towels."
Fenris lowers her to the bed, shifting his hand back to cradle her head. His other hand rises to brush some hair away from her face and she realizes that she's sweating and tries to bat him away.
"Don't touch me, I'm gross," she says, trying to laugh and failing. She must look pathetic, because Fenris sits down beside her and puts his hand over her bloodied one, adding gentle pressure to slow the bleeding. Aveline hovers over his shoulder, armor clattering as she wrings her hands.
"I should go get Anders," the guardswoman announces. "You look far too weak to handle this on your own."
"No," Marian cries, "He can't see me like this. He doesn't know."
"Doesn't know what?" Aveline asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "That you can shape-shift into a pretty blonde? I'm sure he won't object."
"This is how she is supposed to look," Fenris says, turning to stare at the redhead.
Garrett comes in with a stack of towels and a bowl of water and sits on the other side of the bed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but get her clothes off so we can see the wound," he says to the elf. "And stop give Aveline the Evil Eye."
Fenris blinks and glances at Marian with his mouth open as if he wants to apologize. He turns his head, gossamer strands of hair glinting as they fall across his face. Then he grips the neck of her robe and tears it open in one swift gesture, leaving it open to the navel. At least they have corset-bra-things in this medieval world.
"Somehow I always thought it would be a lot sexier to have a man rip my clothes off," Marian says. No one laughs. She tries to concentrate, to weave the mutilated muscle back together with her mind, but the agony overwhelms her and the magic fizzles in green sparks around her.
"I'm getting Anders," Aveline announces in her Guard Captain voice. "I don't give a shit what you're trying to hide, but you need help and that's what matters." Marian can't see her clanking exit around the men as Fenris dips towels in water and wipes blood away from the puncture and Garrett fumbles thread through a needle.
"Dude, Garrett, if you sew it I'll go septic," she gasps. She wasted her energy on that failed spell and now the first field spell that kept the blood vessels obstructed fails, too. The gush that ensues is dark and she realizes the hepatic vein must have been nicked. "There's still a piece of the arrow in there."
"Fuck, they almost got your liver," he sounds like he did when they had to put their dog down in middle school, his voice cracking eyes crinkling against unshed tears.
"I can get it out," Fenris offers, leaning close enough that she can almost see his features against the graying edges of her vision. "It will be very painful, though."
"Do it," Garrett says, now rummaging through Marian's nightstand. "Where do you keep the painkillers?"
"My writing desk," she chokes, feeling the elf's grip on her hand tighten, pushing harder to slow the welling of blood. She realizes in a distant, floating way that he's keeping the pressure going now because she's not capable. "Second drawer on the left. It's bright red, says E squared on the label."
All she can see is Fenris' face, the brilliance of his large, frightened eyes. He looks almost as terrified as he did when she found him in his nightmare, the night she somehow changed into her normal body.
"I am sorry that I have to do this," he says, leaning closer. He rests his forehead against hers, still pressing on the wound, and she's conscious of the fact that he's not wearing any gloves, that his bare hand is on her bare stomach. His other hand rises to her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone in a gentle arch. "Look at me. Take a deep breath and just keep your eyes on me."
There's a clatter of movement and she hears her brother take a whiff from one of the bottles. "Elfroot and embrium?" he asks.
She nods and stares into Fenris' eyes as he ordered, losing herself in endless green. "Just do it," she whispers.
A flash of blue light and she can't breathe or think or feel anything but his hand reaching through her. Her consciousness waves in and out as his fingers probe through the wounded tissue and he pulls out the vicious metal spikes lodged there. Each time he goes back in he whispers 'I'm sorry' his mouth now almost against hers, but she's too dazed from the agony of it, the repeated movement as he reaches in and plucks each barb out. She can't feel the warm lips skimming over her cheeks to brush away her tears or understand the babble of words in Arcanum that he murmurs against her ear.
The world seems dark and gray as they bandage the wound; she can't see anything but she can hear her brother's strange, flat British voice and Fenris' answering bass rumble.
"Eleven pieces?" Garrett asks.
"That mage had better get here fast," Fenris growls.
Her brother takes a shaky breath. "Is she still conscious? Can we sit her up long enough to pour this down her throat?"
Marian reaches up a weak hand to grip the elf's hair, fingers digging into the fine strands and sliding away. She feels her brother reaching around her shoulders and lifting her, feels how Fenris cradles her head with a gentle hand, feels the cool glass of the potion bottle pressing against her lips.
"Holy Maker, what happened?" she hears Anders' distant voice as she opens her mouth and gulps back the potion. The effect is immediate; the pain recedes to something throbbing and terrible, but now she can surrender to unconsciousness.
Marian insists that Fenris stays while she explains her appearance to her mother and brother. He hasn't left her bedside in the three days since she woke up, or for the two days she was barely conscious, except the night he and Garrett went out to massacre the remaining Sisters. Leandra insists that, at the very least, he needs to take a proper bath and have a good night's sleep instead of dozing off on the floor with his back against the bedframe. Garrett, ever the diplomat, points out that he's tired of lending his clothes and that the elf is starting to smell.
But at her pleading look Fenris assumes an almost protective position, sitting on the bed next to her knees and crossing his arms. He does look kind of ridiculous in one of Garrett's plain white shirts, which is too large for his slimmer elven frame, and a pair of her brother's pants that drag on the floor.
Garrett sighs and leans against her desk as her mother joins them on the bed, perching on the other side and taking Marian's hand in both of hers.
"I'm just glad you're alive," says Leandra, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I think you look lovely, dear."
"Thanks, Mom," she says, squeezing her mother's fingers.
Garrett sighs again. "You still haven't told us what the deal with this is," he waves a hand at her face and hair.
"Look, I don't know exactly what happened. I've been working on my lucid dreaming and all, trying to get a better handle on this Shaper stuff," she begins. "And I accidentally went into one of Fenris' dreams and when I woke up, I looked like myself. I don't know what happened or why it happened."
"You have a theory, though," her brother says.
She rolls her eyes. He knows her too well. "I made a conscious choice to be myself—my real self—in the Fade and it affected reality," she answers. "I figured out how to make an illusion of my face here, but that's all it is. I have to remember to keep it up all day, and I've been doing it for almost two months. That's why I wake up so early, so no one sees me while I'm asleep."
"Jesus, Marian, for a one-forty IQ you sure are dumb sometimes," Garrett grumbles. "Why didn't you say something? Why don't you go learn from Marethari? She seems to know more about Shapers than anyone else."
Marian sighs. "I dunno, Garrett. It's all just…" she trails off without finishing, aware of how lame any she can give will sound.
"I agree with your brother," Fenris adds, turning to look at her with his serious stare. Even though her mother is right there, he grasps her other hand and weaves his fingers with hers. "If you want, I will accompany you to the Dalish camp while you study. It would be… interesting to learn more of the people."
Marian knows he's lying and that he doesn't enjoy 'traipsing around in the dirt' as he so eloquently put it, and that makes her smile impossible to hide. "Only if you want to," she says, her thumb stroking over his calloused knuckles.
"I believe I have a luncheon to get ready for," Leandra announces, standing up with a final squeeze for Marian's hand and a wink. She sweeps out the door and pulls Garrett along with her in an epic show of excellent parenting.
"What about the Arishok?" she asks. "He'll be kind of pissed if I go running off to learn magic tricks in the mountains."
"It is not as if we cannot come back to Kirkwall if your help is needed," he answers, giving her one of his faint, gentle smiles. Her heart does this light fluttery thing as his hand cups her cheek and he says, "But it is more important that you stay alive."
"You would really go for a ridiculously long camping trip with me?" she grins at him lifts her free hand to cover his fingers on her cheek while the other hand remains tangled with his.
He smirks at her and leans down to rest his forehead against hers, much like when he pulled the arrow bits out of her. "Have I not already proven that I would follow you anywhere?" he murmurs.
"Easy, killer," she says, but her voice doesn't have that raucous teasing quality she was shooting for. Just gentle, soft, sweet. "I might get to liking you too much."
"Good," he whispers, tilting his head forward and pressing a small kiss to the side of her mouth. He pulls back an inch or two, staring at her as if he's surprised that he just did that, and the hand on her cheek slides back into her hair, drawing her face back to his. Their lips brush together and the door bangs open behind them.
"Oh, Maker…Garrett said I could just come in," Anders sighs from the doorway.
Marian hears her brother laughing in the hallway as Fenris sits up. Her lips tingle where his just barely touched them and she lifts a hand to her mouth, pleased to see the elf doing the same thing. "Sorry, Anders," she says, looking at the frowning apostate. She raises her voice to make sure Garrett can hear her add, "My brother's an asshat."
"Maker, you reek," Anders wrinkles his nose as he walks past Fenris. He scowls at the elf, "If you are going to hang around here all day, at least bathe and put some clean clothes on."
Fenris glares at the mage but Marian squeezes his hand. "He's right. You do smell kind of ripe," she says, giving him a pleading look as he stares at her. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
"I will return," he says, lifting her knuckles to his lips. He and Anders exchange a final set of dirty looks and Fenris leaves.
Marian looks at the mage. "Sorry. He's been prickly since the whole arrow-shooting thing," she says, pushing the blankets back and unbuttoning the bottom of her shirt so he can check the wound.
Anders helps her to sit up and starts unwinding the bandages around her abdomen. "I know. He was a right prig when we cleaned out those Sisters," he answers, giving her an odd sidelong look as he lowers her down and peers at the wound. "He razed through them worse than Garrett did. Sliced his arm up, too, and wouldn't let me heal him, either."
"Maybe he'll chill out when we go to the Dalish camp, you know, learn how to be one with nature and shit?" she asks, tilting her head back so she can't see as he wipes numbing salve over the wound and starts probing at it.
"You're kidding me," Anders says, lifting his head to frown at her. "You're going to join the Dalish together? Are you sure that's wise?"
Marian laughs and then groans. Her friend has done a wonderful job healing her, but the damage is severe, worsened by her reckless reaction. It still hurts to laugh or move, and she can't get further than the chamber pot and she needed help with that for the first few days.
"No, we're not joining the Dalish. I'm not that much of a hippie," she answers, taking deep breaths to ease the pain. "But I need to learn to control my Shaper powers, and Marethari is the only person who seems to know anything about it."
Anders closes his eyes for a moment and she feels magic weaving through the knitting muscles, strengthening and securing them. She grasps his other hand in both of hers and channels her own strength into him, which isn't a whole hell of a lot at this point. But using her powers helps make her feel better, and it's good to exercise even a little bit. He squeezes her hand as he cuts off the link and finishes his spell.
"Be careful, Marian," he says, still holding onto her hand as he helps her sit up against the headboard, propped with pillows. "You know if you ever need anything, I'll be there for you."
She smiles at him. "You're the best, Anders. Seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you," she answers. Her gentle smile turns wicked. "So, have you managed to visit Bethany lately?"
He blinks, but he doesn't smirk back at her. "I don't think I'm her type," he answers. "Isabela snuck her a bottle of brandy, you know, and your sister's a chattier drunk than your uncle."
Marian's eyes widen. "What happened?" she asks, brain racing. Did Isabela seduce her little sister? Is Bethany a lesbian? How did she not figure this out sooner? She's caught her little sister making eyes at more than one strapping soldier-boy around Lowtown or Hightown, but she's never seen her actually talk to one or go out with a boy.
Anders looks a bit sick. "It seems she couldn't be happier, surrounded by handsome Templars," he announces, brows drawing together. "She manages to spend an awful lot of time around the Knight Captain, too. That's the reason she got herself caught."
"Shit," Marian whispers, staring at him in shock and confusion. "Does Garrett know?"
He shakes his head. "No. I'm not even supposed to tell you, you know," he answers. "I only found out because Isabela was drunk when I led her back through the tunnels."
"Well, I really appreciate you telling me," she says, giving his hand another squeeze. "Shit. I don't even know what to think about that."
Next up: Garrett and Merrill try to fix the Eluvian and deal with a pissed-off Arishok.
