She woke up curled around Zevran, all tangled limbs and warmed flesh. Calloused fingers pulled back hair from her face and she moaned in irritation, fractured sleep fading from her far too quickly.
Something foreign was mumbled into her ear, the words too alien and distant for Missa to decipher. "Don't," he finally murmured in Fereldian, pulling her in closer.
She did not fight him, not just yet. Screwing her eyes tightly shut she pulled into shoulder, nose pressed against the curve of his neck. "I have to," she replied, just as drowsy. Missa did not open her eyes, because if she did it meant she had to move. If she did that then she would have to place past and future events into some form of hidden coherency; currently they were tangled, unwanted thoughts, too much effort to process.
"For the legendary Deep Roads? Full of treasure and adventure, or some such heroic notion." Zevran finally stretched his arms up in a yawn, trying not to move her. Reluctantly Missa let him go and sat up, scrubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms, forcing herself to deal with her problems on her terms.
"More like dust and darkspawn," she muttered. "And the dead."
Missa's mind was completely on Paragons and politics now, coldly pushing aside memories of last night. There were bags to pack, supplies to find; she had to meet with a palace scout recommended by Bhelen, as well as acquire provisions and maps for their journey.
The first bell faintly rang out in the palace signalling morning and Missa groaned, the weight of the day ahead fully stretching across her thoughts. She had yet to work out who would even be accompanying her into the Roads, wondering if those that allied themselves to her cause would even follow willingly into the tainted corruption that was there.
A hand touched the small of her back and she snapped out of her brooding, and her chest tightened as he kissed her on the shoulder. "We will be fine," he said inexplicably. Missa had no idea what he was referencing to, and shrugged half-heartedly.
"I'm sure. You really want to come? I can understand if you don't. It will not be pleasant."
Amber eyes looked her over thoughtfully before speaking. "I made a vow," he replied quietly. "I will not break it."
She snorted at that, finally finding the energy to haul herself out of bed. "Right."
"You leave me alone to endure this wealth all by myself? Oh. Such a shame," Zevran grinned rakishly, gesturing at the gems imbedded in gold-lined posts framing their bed.
"Somehow I'll manage," and turned to face him as she searched for her clothes scattered on the floor where they left them.
Missa's throat caught strangely as she found herself staring, eyes taking in Zevran's rumpled demeanour and the way his hair tumbled over his shoulder just so. It was a long enough pause for him to notice and Zevran opened the covers again in invitation, an eyebrow raised. "Zev…" she started, ignoring the lecherous smile he was only wearing.
"You're no fun."
"That's me, life and soul of the party," she looked away finally, reaching for a handful of drying cloths by her pack. Missa put her feelings in a place locked away shut, too precious and complicated to deal with right now. "Going to wash in one of those bathrooms the size of a tavern," she said finally.
"Do you need help?" Missa threw him a look of concealed annoyance and he responded by holding his hands out in contrition. "Only a suggestion. I can help reach in places you can't quite get at. One of my many talents, obviously."
"I can play hide the soap by myself, it's okay."
As she finally left him alone, Zevran did his own version of shutting down his thoughts. As he pulled on his breeches with his mark firmly back in place, an insistent knock sounded against the dull stone of the door.
Without thinking he opened it, only to be greeted by his lover's sister dressed and coiffed already so early in the day. "Oh!" Rica said, surprised at his appearance. Zevran bowed suddenly, then took her still raised fist and kissed it.
"My dear, you look radiant this morning. I feel simply underdressed and drab compared to such loveliness, please excuse me," and Zevran pulled his shirt on quickly.
"That's… okay. I was looking for Missa," Rica replied, fluster turning into amusement rapidly.
"In 'a bathroom the size of a tavern,' or so I was told. But you didn't hear it from me, of course."
"Oh, of course." Rica looked him over, frowning slightly. "I'd be careful, were I you. About my sister, I mean."
Zevran raised his eyebrow at that, wondering it was an idle threat. "Oh? I can assure you my intentions are honourable and chaste. Despite appearances, my! What you must think. I merely visited the Warden's room this morning to return a borrowed item, naturally."
Rica of course did not believe a word of it, and wondered how a lady would respond to such a situation. In Dust Town she would look at her sister's tumbles with exasperation and glare at her choice of partner until they left, but thankfully Missa never was one for bringing home anything often.
"Right, I'm sure. Just… Watch out for yourself, I know my sister. Don't get… Too attached," and cursed her attempts at diplomacy. "She has a habit of breaking hearts. Just warning you, is all. Oh, don't listen to me, forget I mentioned anything. I just talk and talk in the early mornings until my brain finally warms up, and before I know it I've talked people half to death! My little chatterbox, Bhelen calls me."
His response was to bow again so the redhead could not see his amused reaction. "I cannot help myself. Where she leads, I follow. Such is life, no? I can think of worse things then to be broken, as you say, by such magnificence. Which I see runs in the family, as such a pretty lady as yourself can attest to, of course. You break the hearts daily of the men around you, I'm sure."
"I…" Rica was back to being flustered, unsure how to answer. While she was used to rough compliments when she was a Noble Hunter, Zevran was all subtle lechery and louche flirting, at once familiar and foreign at the same time. "Well, I'm… Going to find my sister now. Atrast tunsha… Zevron, is it?"
"Zevran," and he rolled the r of his name in a show. Rica inclined her head slightly and the elf moved when she did, finally heading into the room put aside for him in the first place.
Rica shook her head and knocked the bathroom opposite her sister's sleeping quarters. "Missa?" She said hesitantly, opening the door slightly. She really hoped there was no more surfacers to confuse her; there was only so much strangeness she could take before breakfast.
"Yes?" She heard a familiar voice call, relieved enough to recognise it.
"It's only me. Rica, I mean."
"Come in," and Missa pulled the drying cloths tighter around her, dripping wet still from her bath.
"Are you off to the Grey Warden headquarters soon? Bhelen says that's where the meeting is, with… a Thaudrin, I think? One of the warrior caste scouts, he's a bit of an expert on the Deep Roads. Has all the latest information, anyway."
"Grey Warden headquarters?" She asked blankly, shaking her damp hair slightly.
"Yes! For such honoured guests as the Wardens, Orzammar saw fit to give them their own place here in the Diamond Quarter. Here, I have the key," and she held out a heavy, plain looking silverite key on a thin chain pulled from her pocket.
"Huh," Missa muttered, stunned by the revelation. She wondered if Lord Aeducan conveniently forgot in mentioning this in their meetings as it amused him, keeping her as a guest to spite Harrowmont.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Rica said, just as astonished at her sister's lack of knowledge.
Missa thought that somehow this was Alistair's fault and looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "Apparently not," she mumbled, trying not to think of her time in expensive, insecure inns since they arrived.
"Well, it's a good thing in a way," Rica replied as she watched Missa put the chain around her neck. "It means I had time to hire servants and sort it out for you."
"Servants?"
"You needed a housekeeper, everything was so dusty and dirty. I had to buy new bed linen and… Well, I didn't touch the armoury, of course. Oh! That reminds me, I forgot your Name Day this year."
She wryly looked at her sister and raised an eyebrow. Aware of her lack of dress, Missa pulled the drying cloths tighter around her body, trying to think of a polite way to excuse herself. "I'm sure I can forgive you."
Rica bumped against her deliberately and finally looped her arm through hers. "Come on," she replied. "I have a present waiting, I can't wait to show you. I didn't last night as you went to bed early. Didn't want to wake you; but when I saw that elf leave just now, maybe I shouldn't have bothered."
"What did you get?" Missa said quickly, changing the subject before her sister pried further. She was dragged the short walk to Rica's sitting room, where a very shiny, very expensive suit of armour rested on a stand. "Oh."
Nervously the redhead patted her hair, anxious now at her choice of gift. "I had to guess the size. I was unsure if the surface would change you," she said. "I mean, you're a Grey Warden now. It's just not done for you to run around in old patchy duster rags, is it?"
"I… don't know what to say," then looked away from her and the polished silverite of the armour, meaning every word.
"Can't have my little sister face darkspawn without protection. You can wear it to… What Bhelen wants you to do."
The thought of wearing plate in the suffocating heat and air of the Deep Roads made her grimace, but she quickly hid her reaction from Rica for fear of upsetting her. "It's very grand, Rica."
"Do you want to try it on? The smith said there was padding too, for underneath."
She had helped Alistair into his armour plenty of times, but now that it was her turn she didn't know where to start. As she put a simple pair of linen breeches and a breastband on behind a screen, Rica held out the cuirass of the chest piece for her be buckled into, practically glowing with a proud smile.
"Well. Look at you," she heard muttered by the doorway. Knowing who it belonged to, she swallowed her fear quickly.
Finally, after days of avoiding her, Missa met their Mother. Kalah stumbled into the room in a waft of stale booze, a distinct, sharp smell that kicked her memories and made her wince in disgust. "Hello Mam," she said quietly. The armour made her stand reluctantly straighter, pinching her at the waist as she tried to slump into herself.
Rica could see the reaction, but refused to cover up either side of the confrontation. "Have you eaten breakfast, Mother? I'll send for food. We can all sit and eat like a family, wouldn't that be nice?"
"I can't stay," Missa replied quickly. "I have things to do before I leave for the Roads."
Their Mother muttered something neither of them could catch and collapsed in her dirty dress by the chairs of the room. "Missa's a Warden now, remember?"
"Too good to see your Mam?" Kalah spat back. She could smell the alcohol again and Missa gagged slightly, irritated by her need to bolt.
"Still drinking I see," she said bitterly. Rica gave her a look of embarrassed annoyance at both her reaction and their Mam's hungover state.
"I can drink what I want," Kalah said, woozily pointing at her with a chuckle. "They have rooms here full of booze. And I can go whenever I want."
Rica nervously fiddled with her rings, unsure what to say to the pair of them. "Enough now, I'll send for some food. We can eat and-"
"I got to go." Missa started to pull off her armour, face suddenly flushed. Anger rose like bile in her throat and she clenched her jaw, refusing to look at her Mother.
"But…" Rica was just as angry, but refused to show it. It was so unladylike, even if she wanted to clout her kid sister around the ear for being childish.
"You're nothing," Kalah mumbled, methodically drinking from a bottle without any thought. "Nothing but Dust Town whores, the pair of you. Don't you forget it, 'cause they won't let you anyway."
Missa's reaction was to laugh hollowly, the images of Leske bleeding by her feet coming back too soon. "You say that like I give a fuck, Mammy."
Rica helped the older woman to sit up properly, pouring out a mug of water for her to drink. "Enough, Mother," she finally muttered, much to Kalah's disgruntled reaction at being moved. "Just go," she said, looking up at Missa. "I'll see you later, if I can."
She turned on her heel and left, not even bothering to look behind her at the family she left for the surface.
The Grey Warden base was tucked behind the Shaperate and the Palace, hardly even a stroll from the main gates. The scout Bhelen sent for her to talk to waited by the doors, a bundle of maps in his hands. As she pulled out the key to open up the headquarters, he introduced himself.
"Atrast vala, Wardens. My name is Thaudrin. Ivo Thaudrin, if you want to be technical about my title."
She looked him over cautiously; a slight man with a fussy beard, meticulously clean leathers and small eyes. Unsure quite how he was the Deep Roads "expert," she pushed the door open with a shrug. "I'm Warden Missa and he's Warden Alistair, if you want to be exact also."
"Last time your organisation graced our city a man called Duncan resided here. Which I'm sure you know about, considering, your, ah, origin," he said said politely. "It was my job to act as ambassador during his stay, I suppose. I saw your fight at the Provings held in his honour, by the way."
"Duncan?" Alistair said, curious, interrupting Missa before she could snarl a reply. "He lived here?"
"For a time, yes," Thaudrin replied, amused at his reaction. "How is he? Your organisation isn't exactly the type to send love letters from the surface."
Silence punched the air before Missa spoke. "He died at Ostagar," she said quietly. "At the start of the Blight."
The scout cleared his throat, aware of his misstep. "Then Ancestors favour his passing. I liked him, he was an honourable man."
Finally they entered their headquarters. Missa noted with amusement at the silk flowers in a stone vase at the centre of the entrance room, a very Rica touch. Alistair noticed her reaction and smiled despite his sudden pensiveness. Gesturing vaguely at the carved griffons above the hearth, he looked at her wryly. "Nothing says Grey Wardens then pretty petunias, obviously."
"Like you would know what a petunia is," Missa muttered.
"I think they're freesias," Leliana added thoughtfully.
"No, definitely not dear. They're hollyhocks," Wynne replied.
Bhelen's scout looked at them like they were all crazy, and Missa hid a grin. "Allegedly a weapon collection is housed here," she added. "Let's see what we can salvage for our expedition."
The armoury held an impressive set of blades and chainmail, even if a few pieces yielded to rust from disuse. Missa eyed a light metal and leather jerkin idly, and wondered if it would fit. As she ordered the others to start scouring the house for supplies and resources, the front door was thumped heavily.
"You can deal with that," Missa said distantly to Alistair, fully expecting a snarky comeback.
"Right," was all he replied, heading to greet visitors no doubt wanting something from them.
Thauldrin gestured to her with his maps and she cleared a table free of weapons to make room for his charts. One was old and papery, lyrium ink not quite fading from the leather of the pulled bronto skin. The other was a new parchment, creamy white and dotted in colour.
The two maps were laid side by side. Missa frowned, then trailed a finger alongside a route. "I suggest heading to Aeducan thaig. It's well cleared, and was were Branka initially headed to first," Thauldrin said clearly.
"We can bypass Aeducan thaig," she murmured.
"I would suggest-" the scout started to say, but was promptly silenced with a glare.
"It's a pointless diversion," she said brusquely. "Caridin's Cross makes more sense. It's an old crossroads, right? We might be able to pick up a clue as to where she went, if her house managed to get that far. Aeducan thaig is partially cleared, yes. But we can avoid it."
"This makes no sense, Warden. Why would you gamble on such a thing?" He looked at her in question, and she could see what he was thinking. How would a brand know?
Missa ignored his implied insult and traced her finger along the older map curiously, deep in thought. "The newer map is the Roads as they are now, correct? Or at least as accurate as you can get."
"Indeed. Information from our own scout network and what we've learnt from the Legion of the Dead."
"Right, right. What's this?" And she pointed a broken line near the spot near the Caridin's Cross marker.
"The nature of the darkspawn is to tunnel, and the old roads and caves shift from it. This one is one of their own; it's not exactly ventilated, but it will get you to the crossroads quickly." The scout paused slightly, and stroked his beard. "According to the Legion, it's still heavily infested," he replied diplomatically. "I mean, the maps here are out of date and I'm not even sure… Well, this might be old news to the Legion now, anyway."
That interested Missa. "When was the last time you spoke to them?" She asked him, eyebrow raised curiously.
The scout looked at her dismissively before speaking. "It's of no consequence."
She ran her tongue over her teeth, silently funnelling her anger to a place where she couldn't react. "Right. I'm sure. Because a militia who are dedicated to fighting Darkspawn in the Deep Roads is of no consequence to me, a Grey Warden, and of my task to find our Paragon."
Thaudrin refused to back down. "They will not help you. Not while there is no king on the throne. They answer to no one else."
"I didn't ask for help," she spat back. "I asked when was the last time you spoke to the Legion. If even reports are still being sent back to Orzammar. It's useful information to me."
Her words were loud enough for Leliana and Zevran to look up from their supply duty, both exchanging a look at Missa's tone. "They won't answer. And reports, as you call them, have always been shaky. You must know how the Legion operates."
Missa was angry enough to hit her fist on the table. "You carry on being this obtuse, I'll-"
Her words were interrupted, however, by yelling in the courtyard. "It appears you have visitors," Bhelen's scout answered before she could react. "Drunken ones at that."
"A drunk dwarf, in Orzammar? What a rare occurrence," Zevran said softly, Leliana hiding a grin behind her hand.
"Don't lie to me, I know the Grey Warden is here," she heard being said finally, and debated going outside. Why hadn't Alistair intervened, where was he?
"I really must insist-" Wynne started to say, and a red haired warrior in dented plate stumbled into the armoury, metal doors swinging open with a creak.
"You, you seen the Warden?" He said. Missa could spot a drunk when she saw one and grimaced.
"I apologise, Missa," the older woman flustered, following their uninvited guest coolly. "There was no stopping him."
She gestured to Wynne to let him through and finally the mage closed the door on them all. Missa looked him over once, then went back to the maps. "Depends. Who's asking?"
She had an inkling who he was, but waited; the dwarf could be useful, but somehow he made her hackles rise. "It's only Oghren." Thaudrin mumbled to her right. "Go home and sleep it off, Oghren. No one needs you today."
"You're the Warden?" Oghren said, blearily rubbing his eyes. "I mean, I vaguely remember something about a brand being one, but you have to understand that was several flagons ago and a nug kebob I don't really want to see again."
Missa could see Leliana smiling still at their reluctant street theatre. "Take a look around you. What do you think?"
"Suppose it makes sense with the elf there," and he jerked his thumb at Zevran. "Bit of a brassy pack you got going on, though I did appreciate the human with her bits hanging out by the doorway, heh."
"Such a charmer," the said elf replied. "Smart, too. A positively deadly combination."
"I got a favour to ask," and at that Missa snorted.
"Oh, it just gets better," Zevran said. "Honestly, I am not sure how I am keeping my hands to myself with such virility on show," and Missa twitched her mouth in humour briefly at the thought of her lover doing just that, then cursed at the unwanted mental image her imagination threw up in her head.
"I may regret this, but what do you need?" She asked, wondering where this was going.
"You need me," the redhead stated vehemently, after throwing Zevran a disgusted look. "Name's Oghren, by the way. Not sure what you've heard about my, er, reputation."
She vaguely remembered the story of Branka's husband, the man she left behind to rot in the city. "I've heard something, yes."
He laughed at that, then scratched at his neck. "Yeah, well. All you've heard is that I piss ale and kill soddin' little boys who can't hold their sword up the right way. Ha."
"There's more to it then that," Thaudrin muttered. "He killed Lord Meino's youngest in a fight meant for first blood at the Provings."
"I paid for my crime, nug humper. Deep Roads saw to that," he spat back.
Thaudrin shook his head disgustedly and went back to the maps at the table. "Warden, are you seriously considering this man? He's practically nothing. A disgrace to my caste."
Oghren raised his fist, the tone switching to palpable anger instantly. "Say that again." he growled. "Go on."
"Try it. You and I both know what will happen if you break your decree not to fight. I'm sure the surface is lovely this time of year, or so I'm told- I'd rather not lose my stone sense. Unlike you," Thaudrin said, baiting the older man to swing a punch.
She noticed Leliana and Zevran reach subtly for their weapons and walked up Oghren, hands out stretched. "Let's all calm down, shall we? You have one more chance to say why you're here, or I'll boot you out myself."
Missa fixed him a look cold enough to make Oghren dance on his feet nervously. "Only now these soddin' streaks of piss are interesting in finding Branka now that they need a Paragon. I know where she went, and what she's looking for. Which is what you need."
"Really now. Prove it," she replied, crossing her arms. "I know she went down to look for old machinery that our people have forgotten, if that's what you're trying to bribe me with."
"Huh, seems Bhelen's little scouts ain't so useless after all. Fact is, I know exactly why she's there."
"He can prove nothing!" Thaudrin muttered. "He knows no more then we do."
"Yeah? A round at Tapster's says I do. She was my wife."
"A wife that left you," Thaudrin baited again, finally disgusted with the conversation. "Speaks volumes, doesn't it?"
"Enough," Missa said, looking over her shoulder at Bhelen's scout. "What else do you have, Oghren? My name is Missa, by the way."
"Branka's a brilliant girl," he replied. "Has a mind like a steeltrap, all snapping decisions… But mostly she went about it strangely. I know how she thinks, and what she would do." With a shrug he pointed to the weapons on the rack. "I can also hit things."
"That I would like to see," Zevran interjected. "Wouldn't you, signorina?"
"Keep on talking like that and that I'll show you what I can do, elf. It'll be pretty."
"Promises, promises. Sounds like a fine way to pass the time."
Missa sighed and shrugged distantly. If anything, Oghren would be a spare sword, even if he was too drunk to stand, much as she loathed drinkers. She also believed his words, and that he knew his wife; even if she did leave him to stew in booze alone. "Alright, we have a deal. Let's pool our resources and get going, there's not much time."
"What?" Thaudrin practically shouted. "Are you crazy? You're letting this… drunkard disgrace your movement by association?"
They were the final words that sealed her opinion of Orzammar's supposed best of the best. "Disgrace my movement? Interesting choice of words, wouldn't you say?" She said to Zevran and Leliana, avoiding the scout's bluster.
Zevran, seeing where the conversation was going, smirked slightly. "Grey Wardens? Ah, I hear they let anyone in by association. Assassins, criminals, murderers, bards, apostates…"
"Dusters," Missa finished, never removing her eyes from Thaudrin.
"Those too," Zevran replied. "Of course, such a sacred movement would never allow such a thing. All hearsay and gossip, obviously."
"Obviously," and her brand itched on her cheek again.
"That maybe so," Thaudrin said, refusing to back down, "but it's Oghren. He can't fight."
"Where we're going he can," she said quietly. "No one should enter the Deep Roads defenceless."
"I refuse to take part in this," the scout replied angrily. "To be allied with this…intoxicated fool."
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," and Oghren reached for his hipflask to take a large swig. "Heard there's two bits off of lichen ale at The Smelting Pot if you want to drown yourself."
Missa took one look at the scout and smiled. "You heard the fool. We're done here, if that's the way you want to play it."
As Thaudrin flushed angrily, he started to roll up the maps, refusing to look at them all. "Oh no," she said quietly. "You leave those. They're mine."
It went silent for far too long and Missa debated if she had to do something. Finally the scout left, aware he had no choice. As the door was slammed loud enough to shake the dust from the walls, she looked at Oghren thoughtfully. "Good riddance," the warrior muttered.
"You better be worth it," was all she replied. "I loathe drunks."
The gates of Orzammar were the next stop, but Missa knew she could not just disappear, not yet.
They finally left the headquarters bags full, Oghren disapearing briefly to pack for the journey. She spotted Alistair outside the Shaperate, listening intently to the crowd gathered there. Where Missa lacked the patience to stand still and deal with their problems, he paid attention; even if he was unsure what to do, she could see he was at least pretending he would know, palming off the deshyrs and the merchants wanting this and that from the Grey Wardens present in the city with an open smile.
Rica approached them nervously as they waited for Alistair to finish, unsure what to say. "There you are," she said a shade too brightly. Missa wasn't fooled by her cheery routine, however.
"Sis," she said briefly. "You remember Morrigan and Leliana from last night, right? And this is-"
"Zevran, I remember." She smiled and shook her finger briefly. "I got it right that time," she said. "I can't roll my r's like you did earlier though."
Missa did a double take, nervous at the thought of somehow both Zevran and her sister alone together. It wasn't that she was worried about him flirting with her senseless -okay, perhaps that was a little weird- what bothered her the most was the notion of what Rica would've said to him.
"We're waiting for Alistair," she said, changing the subject. Morrigan chuckled at her discomfort and crossed her arms, well aware of the awkwardness.
"Would you mind indulging me with something? I forgot to ask, last night. It's only about flowers. You'll think me silly."
"Ask away!" Leliana said. "I love flowers. I noticed some pretty silk ones earlier."
As Rica looked at the surfacers nervously she talked about polite nothings, anxiously fiddling with her hair as she did. She asked about the sights she had seen and what was the sky like and did it really rain? Zevran and Leliana graciously answering her questions in amusement while Morrigan graciously ignored them all, silent if only for Missa.
Distantly she ramained silent as her sister could not, watching as Alistair started to talk to a woman outside the Shaperate, all easy charm and confidence. Somehow Shale managed to look sulky standing beside him, a feat for a golem. "I have to go soon," Missa said suddenly to Rica before she could babble anymore.
"I'm sorry about Mother," her sister blurted out. "I just-"
"It's fine," Missa replied brusquely, fed up that Rica still defended Kalah's antics.
"Please be careful. I lost you once, I don't want to lose you again." She was pulled into a fierce hug and awkwardly she returned it, kissing her sister's cheek briefly.
"I'll be fine, Rica. Look after yourself here, I worry about you."
"I wish you could've seen Endrin again, but… Just come home safe." Rica refused to cry, forcing a watery smile to show instead. "You'll be fine, you always turn up anyway."
"Like a bad copper bit."
Rica laughed genuinely, then stood straighter. Missa nodded and walked away, thankful her friends were silent during the whole exchange.
As Alistair finally approached them all she set off to meet with the others by the entrance of the Deep Roads. She looked at Zevran in question, her eyes asking again what she mentioned in bed. He answered by nonchalantly leaning against the opened door, eyes adjusting to the gloom slowly.
Dog whined at her feet and she ruffled his ears. "Before we go in, I- look, I'm not good at speeches. But, you don't have to come. Where we going is not going to be… pleasant. If the darkspawn don't get you maybe the stalkers will, and if all else fails you're going to be exposed to the taint constantly. It's not…" Missa gestured helplessly in the air, irritated at her own inarticulate nature.
"You're not Grey Wardens," Alistair finished quietly, standing beside her. "It's not in your blood, like it is for us." She thought of the poisoned chalice she drank from and nodded, her body changed and warped. It was a second chance, but one with a price.
Wynne stepped forward first, jaw tight with steely determination. Missa made sure the older woman only carried the medical supplies, but she was shocked at the resolve and quiet strength she was now showing, hands gripping her staff tightly. "I am ready."
Sten followed next in silence, nodding briefly his reply. Leliana beamed a nervous smile at her and adjusted the hold of her bow, clearing her throat to speak. "'I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade. For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light. And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.'" Was her answer, and Missa tried not to raise her eyebrow at more Chantry droning.
"Do I have a choice?" Shale grumbled, annoyed at having to carry most of the supplies. "Marvellous. I'll just go play in the Provings. It looked delightful fun."
"I'm sure the Shaperate would love having you around, Shale," Alistair said quickly. "They were so keen when we were there, I mean, I can't think why. Something about buying an old relic? Who knows."
"Can I squish it, Warden?" The golem asked thoughtfully. "It talks with It's floppy mouth irritably."
"It's 'may I,' Shale," Wynne correctly primly. "I'm sure you can, ah, squish accurately. If you may is an entirely different matter."
"I know what I meant, Elder Mage. I was not asking permission," and the golem stood next to Missa without question.
Alistair shrugged with a smile. "You can't squish me, I'm too pretty."
"Ha," Morrigan said loudly. "If overgrown idiots that fuss too long with their hair are deemed manly enough to be pretty then… Hmm, I take it back. You are pretty, Alistair. Perhaps I should keep an eye on my combs and pins, lest you get ideas of stealing them to primp yourself."
"This is as touching as watching Tapster's before closing time, but let's get going shall we? Before the horde see the open door and swarm us all," Oghren replied irritably.
The gates shut finally, and the Deep Roads called.
It took only half an hour before the signs of corruption greeted them all, Zevran curling his lip distastefully at the sight. They passed the second set of gates that led further into darkness, and Missa stopped briefly to check her maps, scanning the tunnels for signs for the turning point they needed.
The door was dented and covered in graffiti, signs of abuse and brute force lingering on the stone. Wynne tapped a pattern of scratches with her staff, looking thoughtful. "What did this, I wonder?" She asked out loud.
"Lady, you'll soon see," Oghren said bitterly with a swig of his drink. "These doors are meant to keep things out, if you see what I mean."
"Not what, who," Missa replied quietly. "Look," and she pointed out the scratch marks barely visible underneath the fleshy corruption of the taint. She put a gloved hand against the grooves, her fingers fitting perfectly. "Some duster sent to die, more then likely, clawing for their escape."
"They closed the gates on some during the evacuation to Orzammar, I remember that at least. Or it could be those sent to die recently in the Deep Roads, unlucky sods," Oghren added. He toed the graffiti near the marks with a booted foot, and laughed. "Heh. I like this one."
Missa squinted at the runes and grinned. "Me too."
"What's it say?" Alistair asked, peering over their shoulders.
"Sure your delicate nug ears can cope, little boy?" Oghren slurred. Morrigan chuckled at that, amused at a dwarf calling Alistair little.
"It says, 'fuck you all, I live,' to put it bluntly." Missa translated for the surfacers. She pulled her dagger out and cut away the corruption, then with the point of her knife added her own words quickly in the eroded stone.
"And what do you say?" Zevran said, curious at her actions.
"Pretty much the same."
"You spelt die wrong," Oghren pointed out, looking down briefly at her work.
"Whatever," Missa shrugged. "Let's get moving, hmm?"
"What did you really carve?" Zevran asked her. She could see his eyes shine in amusement briefly, and she smiled.
"Do or die. The duster way, of course."
"Ah, I should've known. Hurrah for the doing and not the dying, yes?"
They all walked along in the gloomy light of the fractured path silently, mage light barely guiding their way. Missa could feel the darkspawn now, writhing under her skin like maggots. The words hacked into the walls occasionally flashed through the corruption under the dimmed glow of the staffs, snatches of prayers, epitaphs and defiant screams to the stone that abandoned them. She carried them with her, comforting in their own twisted way.
Finally she reached the tunnel they needed, and Oghren looked at her with a grin. "No Aeducan thaig?"
"Not really, no." Missa looked into the obscurity of the passageway, apprehension writing in her stomach like the constant chatter of the horde in her head. Heat curled around her face, stale air moving as slow as lava around the entrance.
"It's a sandpit for fat soddin' deshyrs to poke deepstalkers with. All to prove to each other they got a weapon worth poking, anyway."
She chuckled at that, thinking of Lord Dace and his warriors. "True. Come on," and she started to descend into the tunnel.
"This looks pleasant," Alistair muttered. "You show me all the sights worth seeing in your homeland, Missa. Honestly, I'm spoilt."
"Ain't the first time I've crawled in a dark, hot hole," Oghren said in a leer to Morrigan. The witch scowled and walked on ahead, her mage fire glowing red briefly in her anger.
"That sounds like a story," Zevran said in a laugh. "Do tell."
"Before I met Branka there was this warrior with tits like two bellows. She could swallow swords whole, if you get my-"
"Shut up and move," Missa said loudly, wiping the trickling sweat from the back of her neck.
The heat was now suffocating, and she could hear her mabari pant loudly, hacking every so often to get a bigger lungful of air. Missa started to yawn, aware of how dry and dusty the heat was. Maybe if she sat down to rest it would be better, but her instinct was prodding her to keep going.
Sten staggered against the wall, unusually clumsy in his footfalls. The larger man was wilting under the suffocating air, and loosening his armour straps slightly. "Looks like we have to go soon," she said quietly, too weak to shout as the group all stopped to rest momentarily.
"How much water do we have?" Zevran managed to say, voice hoarse.
"Ration it," Missa replied brusquely. Carefully she took a small sip from her bottle, trying not to yawn again. It was impossible to see how far ahead they needed to travel.
"We can't go back," Alistair rasped. "Right?"
"No. Makes no sense," and was glad he was struggling to breath to retort a proper answer.
"I got a splitting headache, Warden," Oghren said. "It's like a hangover without the fun."
"Let's move on again," she practically growled, hoping the end of the tunnel would come soon.
Looking behind her she saw Sten collapse further, falling to his knees. Too exhausted to speak he looked at Missa in defiance, and she gestured to Shale to aid him subtly. "The Qunari is only helping me with my burden, yes?" The golem said, offering an arm for the man to lean on. Sten nodded once, briefly, and their party staggered on.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity, hazy light greeted them. Missa was convinced there was a cooler breeze heading up. Determinedly she walked forward and increasing her pace, when suddenly she felt something, the maggoty feeling creeping across her skin and getting worse. "No…" she said out loud. Not now, not like this.
Turning she faced her expedition, daggers in her hands, gesturing for caution. Alistair, sensing the darkspawn ahead also, withdrew his sword silently. He gestured with his shield hand and held out four fingers; Missa nodded once, agreeing with his count.
While four darkspawn against their nine was hardly nothing, in her group's currently air-starved state it was. She knew they sensed them as much as she could, flashes of movement in her head signalling their close arrival. Leliana shakily pulled back her bow, arms weak; Morrigan leant on her staff briefly to right herself, mage fire dancing in her hands brighter and hotter. Everyone was ready, but the heat made it harder.
The scouts came first, flesh withered and blackened; Missa vaulted forward while Dog followed unsteadily at her heels, barking protectively. She used her own tired inertia to plough straight into the midsection of the closest one, jamming her shoulder against an armoured chest.
Teeth and claws scraped her face and she used the last of her strength to drive her daggers up and under a protected ribcage, trying to find a point to pierce flesh. Arrows and magic flew past her mabari, Missa trying not to tumble with her attacker as he was dragged to the floor. Dog opened powerful jaws to bite at an exposed throat, finally bringing her enemy down.
There was still one more, however. Sensing that it was close, she rose slowly, hissing as she touched the jaggered cut on her cheek. As green fire pulsed past her shoulder, she found their remaining foe; a lone emissary, balling corrupt magic in emaciated hands until it grew larger and larger.
Part of the tunnel collapsed behind them, the force of the darkspawn's magic blasting the walls of the passageway to rubble. It started a chain reaction, and a sound like a roar reverberated through their feet, their location suddenly precarious.
She found the strength to yell then. "Move, all of you!"
Cold air blasted by her face as Morrigan found the strength to fire off a spell, wildly aiming her magic with no precision; the emissary stood with his feet locked in ice, barely missing her.
As Missa crawled up the tunnel to reach him, a dagger flew past to find a home on a shoulder, interrupting the emissary before it could cast again. She aimed a punch to a throat; it was distracting enough for Alistair to finish the last of the darkspawn off, magic slowly drained from the air.
Looking behind her she could see the rest catch up and pull themselves out of the passageway, finally out onto the main path of the Deep Roads once more. "We're not going back that way," Alistair said, taking off his breastplate to cool down. Dust spiralled out of the tunnel in a smoke-like spiral, the sounds of it collapsing in on itself like a distant thunderstorm.
"We're alive," Missa said in a shrug.
"Allegedly," Zevran said roughly. "I'll have that back, I think," she heard him mutter, words a whisper from the harsh of the air. With a distasteful grimace he pulled his thrown weapon out of the corpse and wiped it clean on his cloak, disgusted by the trail of corruption it left.
"Well, at least we're out of the tunnel." Missa slowly collapsed in exhaustion, relieved to be out of choking atmosphere that made her lungs wheeze in protest.
"There's an air vent here," Leliana gestured. They all stood underneath the opening, sweat cooling finally on dirty faces. Sten took a deep lungful in the cleaner space, trying to right himself, a prayer of the Qun mumbled briefly.
In the brighter light she could see they were all covered in dust. A trail of tears lined her face from her constant yawning, and distantly she wiped at it. "You look like how the Dalish in Antiva do when they paint their faces," Zevran said croakily, dust still lodged at the back of his throat. He too was covered in the dirt of the tunnel, blonde hair darkened by the filth. "But you're less likely to kill me for looking at your rather fine bottom, obviously. Ah, that's a story to tell."
Oghren chuckled at that, swigging at his hipflask an wincing as the alcohol parched his already dry throat. "I like a story about fine arse," he said. "You're not bad, elf."
The pull of the Roads would not wait, however, and they were under a time limit to find a Paragon. "Come on," she said, pushing her tiredness to one side as she rose from the ground. "Let's move out, I don't want to linger."
"Yes, we'll miss the tea party," Alistair said wearily, dragging himself up with a groan. "Onwards fearless leader. Woe betide we need to stop for anything, obviously. Like losing a limb. Or possibly death."
She was tired, but soon found the energy to punch him squarely in the arm, making sure the blow landed before he put his armour back on. "Shh, Zevran's going to tell us a story about Dalish arse. Right, Zevran?"
Her lover threw one hand over her shoulder, a smile on his face. "If you insist. This was the time I decided to run away from the Crows during a mission, and fled Antiva City on the pretence of taking in a mark. I happened to come across a wandering Dalish tribe, and… Well, let us just say, the first meeting did not go smoothly…"
So they all listened -even Morrigan- as Zevran spun his tale of fierce, vicious Antivan elves and their stoic reaction to his 'flat eared' city boy routine. Somehow she found the strength to smile, despite what they had endured.
It might not be the best way to head into the unknown darkness, but it was a good way to start.
Author's Note: Review if feel like it, it's always awesome to hear! I'd love to know what you think about my over zealous urge to fill my description with gratuitous violence, apparently the jury is out on my, uh, need for ass kicking in my prose.
Thank you to Holly, Aimo and Sannox for MORE Missa Brosca art, it's in the usual page on my homepage on my profile. Holly drew the silk flower scene from this very chapter, in fact! Ah, good times. (She got sent a little teaser as I did it in honour of her, hope the personal joke isn't too vague...)