A Note: Co-written with Gaspode5

Disclaimer: Nothing new...

The way to play nice

The pressure Riordan had felt building inside since they hit Denerim was starting to subside thanks to whatever her name was and the strong booze he had bought in the bar. His fingers were getting slightly numb, a feeling he had been longing for. The numbness made the demons lose their grip on him; he could almost feel them falling away with piteous screams. Not so long ago he wouldn't have hesitated to give them free rein, the best way to get them out of his system was feeding them blood and pain, but he found himself holding back.

He was getting soft, no doubt about that. Why else did it bother him, at least occasionally, that Duncan was hardly speaking to him since that day at the river; he never used to care about such things. And he certainly didn't understand why Duncan had elected to come with him tonight. He had only asked because he was sure he would refuse. The man probably decided to join him just to minimize any damage Riordan might cause the Order's reputation. He couldn't give a shit about the Order but he'd found himself distressingly hesitant to cement the opinion his fellow Warden currently had of him.

The Broken Goblet reminded Riordan of the place where Duncan had come to collect him for what seemed like an eternity ago. It was full of people trying very hard to get drunk with a minimum of fuss. The tavern stank of quiet despair, bad ale and rotten straw, the kind of place where nobody who valued their life asked questions, not even for the time of day. He absentmindedly noticed that Duncan had left his side to stride up to a not-so-well-disguised noble that was slumming it. Riordan shook his head; no doubt he was going to advice the man to seek safer pastures. That was simply the way he was, the sanctimonious prick.

Riordan was still ruminating about his fellow Warden when Duncan, lets-play-nice-and-kiss-ass-Duncan, smoothly slit the throat of the noble. Without taking his eyes of the scene Riordan reached for his bottle of spirits and downed as much as he could without choking. His colleague was staring calmly down at the spray of blood coming from his victim's throat, making it easy for Riordan to smash the bottle over his head. As the man collapsed Riordan gestured at the bystanders with the broken remainder.

"It's all right good folks. As you can see I have everything in hand, you may go about your business, in fact, I recommend you do! You there, help me get this mess out the door." He waved the bottle at a rough looking fellow he had singled out earlier as a potential target to pick a fight with. The man wasn't impressed until Riordan jingled his money pouch with a suggestive grin, before he, with a grunt hoisted his fellow Warden up and left the thug to deal with the messy body of the stranger.

As they reached the river front Riordan tensed, 'Any moment now' and almost laughed out loud as the thug dropped the corpse on the ground and grunted, "Payment, now!" He was apparently a man of few words.

Riordan propped Duncan against a wall and wasn't surprised when he felt the prick of a knife against his neck. "How about you..." The thug didn't get any further as Riordan spun; catching his arm and slammed the dagger he had slipped from his boot into the man's gut. A sharp hiss escaped the thug as he folded over the knife. Blood flowed warmly over Riordan's hand as he gave the knife a sharp tug before shoving the body off, now he was a man of ever fewer words. Riordan shook his head; some people were just so predictable. The same however, could not be said about Duncan.

Duncan was slowly coming to as Riordan dragged the body of his companion's mystery victim over to a fire vacated by the destitute that had set up home on the river bank. He shoved the corpse in, head first, putting his foot on the back of the head to ensure that the face was nicely buried in the flames. There was a sickening smell of burning meat and hair. He looted it whilst waiting and tossed any identifiers in the river, pocketing the coins. Finally the body with the now unrecognisable face followed it's belongings into the water.

He let the other body lie. The scoundrel would most likely not have met a natural death anyway and it was unlikely his absence would even be noticed. The thought of how close Riordan had been to become such a man gave him pause. Not long ago he wouldn't have cared, now the thought made him uneasy. He shook his head.

A few stray dogs on the riverbank watched the activities with interest. 'Enjoy! Dinner coming up downstream in a week or two.' Riordan thought as he threw some rocks in their direction to discourage them from trying to grab an early bite. Duncan was sitting up now, holding his head in his hands. Riordan bent to clean himself off while he spoke. "Come on, let's get out of here." The other man didn't stir.

"Come on!" he urged again, a bit irritated now, grabbing the arm of his colleague. Duncan unfolded himself and began to follow slowly as if in a daze. Riordan understood nothing of what had happened, least of all his own reaction. He should have been silently gloating over Duncan's fall from grace, what was wrong with him? Maybe the black bastard had done something to his mind after all.

When they reached the Warden compound he rapped the still dazed man sharply behind the ear with the handle of his knife, he went down without a sound. With a wince he noticed that Duncan was splattered with blood, not much but enough to cause suspicion. With only a slight hesitation Riordan made a cut in the back of his head. That would bleed nicely. Swallowing back a wave of queasiness he took some time to let it do its work before he dragged the man across the threshold. They were met by one of the older Wardens who glared at them disapprovingly.

"We were warned that one of you might be trouble but I assumed it was you." The Warden said with a frown.

Riordan smirked. "Me, what gave you that idea? I'm the straight laced one. Give me a hand here will you? Fereldan brew doesn't agree with everyone."

With the help of the other Warden they got Duncan back to their room and on to the bed. Riordan ushered out the Senior Warden, perhaps a little too brusquely, but that could not be helped. He had no idea what this strange new Duncan would do or say once he woke.

He went to the cabinet where he kept some dwarven spirits hidden, just in case. He took a draught from the bottle before exhaling. This had been a weird night. The surge of fright had effectively driven any restlessness from him. Smiling to himself he poured himself a glass. At the sound of a groan he filled a second glass before heading over to help Duncan sit up.

"Careful now. Drink, trust me, I'm an expert." Automatically Duncan obeyed.

"One more!" Riordan refilled his glass. After emptying that, Duncan lay back again. Satisfied Riordan poured one more drink for Duncan and one for himself, he sat in silence for a while until curiosity got the better of him.

"Why?"

"None of your bloody business!" Duncan snapped.

"Fine." Riordan held up his hand. He could see Duncan turn his head away and closing his eyes with a frown as if deliberating with himself.

"No, I'm sorry. You helped me without asking why. It's me being the asshole, not you," came the reply.

"Thank you for that." Riordan tossed back the remainder of his drink. "So why?"

"That man was responsible for the death of my mother." Duncan answered without opening his eyes. "Though I doubt he cared."

"Ah well, no one can blame you then I guess," Riordan offered. Duncan sat up next to him and downed the content of his own glass with alarming speed.

"I thought I was better than that, that I'd become more than just a...rat. Now I'm back to where I started." Duncan stared at the empty glass.

Riordan hurried to refill it before saying in a reasonable tone. "You killed him quickly because you are a good man!" He laid his arm around the other man's shoulders. "I on the other hand, would have taken my time."

Duncan smiled without mirth. "It's like I had a beast inside me."

"That's the problem with beasts; once you give them free rein there's no knowing which way they'll run. No one knows about it," then he amended, "at least no one that matters."

"Except you." Duncan turned a piercing look at him.

"Except me." Riordan agreed. "Are you thinking of killing me?"

"Have considered it yes but I can't now, can I? I just have to trust you." Duncan downed half his drink.

"Well we're sharing a room; you can kill me anytime if you change your mind. Most of the time I'm a sound sleeper."

"I've noticed." Duncan said with a wry grin. "Anyway, thank you Riordan, I mean it."

Riordan squeezed the other man's shoulder briefly before standing. It seemed like Duncan was going to say something else but he'd had enough. It was one thing to discover that the other man was fallible; the danger lay in the brief impulse he had felt to share something of his own. He felt the alcohol rush to his brain. Good, tonight he would sleep and if Duncan changed his mind about getting rid of him, at least the man was a professional.

Riordan pushed through the crowd of people that filled the taproom. In the smoke from the fire and the alcohol haze of his mind they looked like ghosts. A woman bumped into him, she felt real enough and he nearly dropped his bottle so he snarled a curse at her. She had tits that looked like they could smother a man. He wasn't interested though, he had far too much on his mind. He wasn't entirely sure he was happy with going out on a bender with Duncan, but the man had asked and seemed so ill at ease when he did that Riordan just couldn't say no. He was definitely going soft. But then again, refusing to go for a drink just wasn't his style.

The crowd thinned out and he spotted Duncan by the wall where he'd been slumped, silent and brooding all evening. Right now though, he was towering over one of the scrawny street kids that tended to drift around looking for stuff to steal, gripping the boy by the arm, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing in a rare show of rage. Riordan wondered if he might even hit the lad when the man snatched a satchel from the rope tied around the lad's waist and tossed it on the table.

Fascinated Riordan watched Duncan yank his own purse off his belt so hard the strings broke. He crammed it into the terrified boy's hands and shoved him away. An elbow in the back jolted Riordan into motion again and as he approached the table, Duncan sank down looking morose once more.

"What was that about?" Riordan nodded towards the satchel.

Duncan sighed, "Just some stupid kid selling Andraste's Mercy." He grabbed the satchel and upended it on the table.

Riordan eyed the little parcels and picked one up. It contained a brownish green powder. "Not exactly quality stuff, ever had it before?"

Duncan gave a bitter snort. "A couple of times, it's cheap. Problem is, sometimes it goes wrong. Saw a guy scratch his eyes out once, thought worms were eating his brain. Kind of puts you off." He returned the parcels to the satchel and poured himself and Riordan some of the tavern special that Riordan had brought. He sank back against the wall.

"Is it me or are you feeling a tad touchy." Riordan said sarcastically.

"Too many ghosts. I used to be like him." Duncan gestured at the room. "You could make a killing from punters too drunk to watch their purses."

Riordan tried to imagine Duncan as a boy, dark and skinny. He remembered how scrawny the man had seemed when he first noticed him, but even then there had been a wiry strength to him. Now he'd filled out of course but something of that feral boy was still in there in the way his eyes always took in everything around him, the care with which he placed himself in a room, the way he ate. Wardens were a hungry lot, it came with the territory, but Duncan seemed to think his food would be snatched away unless he inhaled it and tended to hover protectively over it. Despite all this, he always carried himself with a quiet dignity Riordan had no idea where it might have sprung from. He eyed the man thoughtfully as he sipped the spirit; it burned a pleasant path down his throat.

"Sorry," Duncan apologised, "I didn't plan to ruin your evening," he gave a wry smile. "I just wanted to thank you for last night."

Riordan squirmed. "No bother."

Duncan laughed under his breath. "No bother, that's all you can say?" He shook his head and suddenly turned serious again as his shoulders sagged. Rubbing his face he said. "Maker I hated that man, spent all my life hating him, but I never thought... He had us evicted. They gave us a day's notice. Mum had a shop and there was no way we could leave so quickly so she went to plead for more time but instead they turned up with guards and that...arrogant shit was there watching." Duncan downed his drink in one gulp and poured some more. The knuckles around the bottle were white with tension. "I don't know what happened, I think dad lost it and mum tried to intervene. Suddenly she was on the floor and there was blood everywhere. Just like that, she was gone." He drained another cup and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. "Don't remember much after that. We went to Orlais. Dad spent most of the time pissed. He got some odd jobs as a sellsword in the Val but never managed to keep them. I used to go and help him home from the tavern and he'd cry and talk about mum. Then one day he wasn't at the tavern either. When I found where he worked they told me he'd fallen." His voice trailed off.

"And you?" Riordan found himself asking although he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Still, it seemed Duncan needed to talk. The man reached for the bottle nearly knocking it over. Riordan took it and poured him another measure before topping up his own.

"Lived in the streets," Duncan said in a flat voice. His eyes were looking glassy now. "It ended one day when I tried to rob this guy. He got hurt, Maker, there was blood everywhere and I was shitting myself. He thanked me and died." Duncan drained most of his cup and Riordan was wondering how long he'd be able to keep this up before keeling over.

"I was going to hang. Then this woman turned up, said she was Commander of the Grey Wardens and wanted me to join them. Apparently the guy I killed was a Warden." Riordan whistled under his breath. "I refused." He stared at Duncan as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. Duncan looked blearily at him and gave him a lopsided smile. "I kind of thought, what kind of life does a man have that makes him thank his murderer? Being a Warden must be really awful right? So the Commander conscripted me. That was Genevieve, would let nothing stand in her way and certainly not a quaking gutter rat."

"And she got herself a new pet." Riordan leered trying to ease the brittle mood.

"Andrastes tits! Not you too."

"Oh come now, you were the golden boy, she took you everywhere, why not into her bed?"

Why does everybody think I bedded her? Duncan exclaimed raking a hand through is hair. "She was old enough to be my grandmother."

"So?"

"She hated me! The Warden I killed, he was her fiancé. She thought I would die during my Joining and when I didn't I guess she just hoped the Spawn or whatever would get me." Duncan gestured angrily, sloshing the last of his drink over himself.

Riordan tilted his head and eyed the agitated man carefully. Was that really true? It clashed violently with his image of his fellow Warden, but then again, so did what happened yesterday. It felt strange. "Perhaps you did, perhaps you didn't, I don't care." Ignoring Duncan's groan he continued, "Seems to me what you need now, actually, what we need now, is to forget this and get laid." He looked around. "I saw this woman earlier; she had the most amazing tits...oh and if you're not going to use the 'Andraste's...