In which we take a left turn away from canon and head straight into a plotline out of a studio ghibli film, because i said so

AN: This next mini arc is the most self indulgent thing ive ever written and eventually has narrative reasons that tie into the plot but forget all that because for the next 4 chapters this is now a fluffy slice of life disaster told partially in Carver's point of view and i hope you enjoy it because i sure as hell did and i have NO regrets

Chapter 27 - Cinna Gets A Job

Carver didn't have the same attachment to the others in the group as half of them left and the others stayed. But then, he was also suffering a great deal when they departed, punctuated by the rolling of his gut and the ugly pulsing burning in his veins.

"Ughhh..." Shivers wracked his body as he held onto his broken arm, and he wondered once again how in the world he was even alive to suffer in the first place.

The blonde one- cinna- was okay enough. After the others had said their goodbyes, she had returned and brought him a cup of water and some crushed elfroot. "It'll be a little while until you're back on your feet."

"It's lucky that he has his feet at all," the other blond said lightly, watching them from the corner of the room. The king of Ferelden (how crazy was that?) quite liked his chair in the corner. Carver guessed it worked better than the bed to dictate to them all.

"I need to come up with a better way to do this..." Cinna sighed, raking a hand through her yellow hair. The roots were a dark brown, like her eyebrows, and Carver wondered what else about her was a trick (it all still seemed… far too good to be true). She drew out a great big journal, and carefully thumbed through each of the pages, tense as if she was wary of the book jumping up and biting her. "I need to make a shopping list."

"For what?" Carver asked, warily. He knew she was a blood mage, he knew she said she had good intentions, that she was keeping him alive, but it was all very... different... to Carver. He didn't know her.

Yet, instead of like a horrible abomination and a ruthless blood mage, her face flushed like a teenage girl and she scratched the back of her head. "I... promised Alistair I'd make him doughnuts in order to save your life, and I need to find another donor for you while he's away anyway, so who knows what kind of groveling I'm going to have to do."

"You think he's going to need more... transfusions?" Leliana asked, sitting down on the bed next to her.

Cinna eyed Carver's blackened wrist and nodded. "One or two more, to get him to a healthy level where he's not puking everywhere."

Carver grimaced, leaning back onto his pillow. "I don't like the sound of that."

Cinna flipped to an empty page in her book and fished out a charcoal stick, making a neat little array of boxes. "Actually... hold on, it might be a good idea to rule out everyone here before I go poking random strangers..."

Leliana looked over her shoulder and squinted at the words. "What language is that supposed to be?"

"It's... eng...lang...uage..." She made a sour face and shook her head. "Not important. Can I have your wrist?"

Now it was the chantry sister's turn to make a face, but eventually, with a bit of prodding and promises that nothing bad would happen, she did. "Owch!"

"It's just a bit of pinching," the blonde huffed, and Carver watched in dismay as the blood floated in her hand as she scribbled out a series of incomprehensible notes. Another bead of blood joined it from her fingertip, and she made a hum of approval and marked something down. "Negative. greaaat."

"What does that mean?" Carver asked, craning his head over to get a better look at what was going on.

"It's... my understanding... that there are different types of blood," Leliana said, hesitantly. Braver, once Cinna nodded at her encouragingly. "Negative is… more easily given to others, but not as easily as… receptive? Which complicates things."

"You're a quick study. Should I be proud? I feel proud. We should be study buddies! Nevermind, I should focus-" Cinna rose from the bed, balancing the globlet in her hands like a teetering stack of plates. Leliana took over the note-taking as Cinna made her way over to the king. "Okay Cailan, you're up."

"You know you really should try to figure out a way to make- OW- that hurt less!" he whined, rubbing his sore wrist.

"Sorry!" she winced, and a fourth bead appeared, joining it from her own skin. "But I don't know if turning off your pain receptors will be permanent or not. Better you hurt now then never again..."

"Is nobody else terrified of what she's talking about?" Carver asked, looking at Leliana and Cailan.

Leliana winced. "That does sound... awful, Cinna."

"The body is a complicated thing," she sighed, sitting back down on the bed. In both hands she spun the four droplets, two her own and two of theirs, testing them. "I need to to do... a lot more research if I want to know what the hell I'm doing."

Leliana reached over and pulled something out of her own bag. "It might be a bit difficult, but I don't see why we couldn't try to translate the text I got you from the chantry."

"What kind of book is it? pass it here. " The king flipped through the thick medical textbook while Cinna wrote away in her journal. "This is something... what did you do to get your hands on this, sister?"

"Uhh..." Leliana looked down at her hands, fumbling with them. "It was... a parting gift."

"It's quite detailed," he murmured. "I wouldn't have been surprised if they had second thoughts in giving it to you."

She flushed and kept her mouth shut. Carver shivered as another chill swept through him, and he only opened his eyes when Cinna moved over and took a sample from his wrist. He hadn't even felt the pinch or heard her speak to him. His hands were... so cold.

She looked like she had some trouble balancing and spinning five droplets in her hand. She motioned for Leliana to pick her journal back up, and closed her eyes, focusing intently on the feeling of each sample. "This is... a lot. Um, I think I've got this..."

"They look the same to me," Carver said, unimpressed. It was just blood magic, what is she trying to prove?

"It's science," she said, ignoring him and wrinkling her nose. "Alistair isn't here so I can't test him, thank god, because he's barely been gone a day and I've already broken my promise, but there is an overlap between him and Carver," she began, dictating to Leliana who wrote in a neat Ferelden scrawl near the grid Cinna had made. "And there should be some sort of correlation between him and Cailan, but... relatives can have different blood types, so who knows..."

"They can?" Cailan asked, alarmed.

"It's not the same as DNA, which you share with your family, and is a can of forms I will not be opening today," she said, pained. "Suffice to say... the human body is a complicated dumpster fire, but I know at least some of what I'm doing. I think."

She went back to her weird... contemplating... blood swirling practice. Carver honestly didn't expect much, but when she merged them all together and started sweating, they watched her expectantly.

"Leliana's in the positive range." Her hands shook as she controlled the tiny sphere, and she licked her lips. "Both carver and Cailan's samples were able to intermingle without destroying one another, so they're… compatible, i think. which is neat and good news and I think I'm getting better at this." A bead of sweat dripped off her chin, and she scowled. "But i think… Leliana might be AB. or something… equally finicky..."

"Oh, is that bad?" The chantry sister asked, pausing in between writing everything Cinna said to frown.

"No, it's common enough, I think. It just happens." Cinna looked at her strangely. "But I think you might have a partial immunity to the blight."

Leliana gaped at her. "I... what?"

"I have no idea how," she laughed, and then stiffened as the door opened to their right, and someone walked in. "Uhh-UHHHH...!"

She floundered, looking around the room desperately with the orb in her hands before she dropped it completely. Down it went, onto the floor, splashing all over her shoes.

Duncan stood in front of them with a scowl on his face. "What are you doing?"

"Certainly not what you think," Carver said, staring up at him, clutching his bucket. Honestly, the way everything splattered everywhere… made his stomach roll.

"HaHa, definitely not... what you think..." Cinna looked down at her bloody shoes, and then back up at Duncan, a sweet smile on her face. "How... are you doing... today... Sir?"

He frowned at her, and undid the clasp on his cloak, revealing his slightly blood-soaked armor. "I'm afraid one of you must take a few jobs from here on out, paying for this room is costing us too much, and the locals are starting to recognize me."

"Right..." Carver said, eyeing the bloody armor.

"Don't worry about it," was all the senior commander said and left it at that.

"You're saying we need to get jobs?" Cinna asked incredulously, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Good luck with that," Cailan snorted.

Cinna turned on him. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm plenty employable. I wrote the book on employment."

"I could offer my services to the local chantry," Leliana said easily, shutting the journal shut and tucking it into their bags. She rose from the bed and straightened out her robes. "I could go now or later, depending on how badly we need the coin. And I could keep an ear out and try to gather intel at the same time."

"Be careful," Duncan nodded, and let her pass out the door.

"I don't understand, what makes you think I couldn't get a job?" Cinna asked, incredulous.

"Do you have other talents besides blood magic?" Carver asked bluntly.

King Cailan laughed and gave him an approving look. (crazy how he could say that. The king of ferelden approved of him being snarky. Hawke would never believe this.) "She's pretty talented at bursting into tears. They could hire her as a watering can."

Carver smirked. "Or a shower."

"GuuuUUYS," Cinna cried, shutting her eyes. "Quiiit ittt."

"Or set her up over a bucket to clean dishes." Cailan paused. "I suppose dishwasher is a normal job. Your future is bright after all, Cinna."

Duncan nodded. "Go easy on her, boys, Cinna's doing the best with the talents the maker has given her."

"Which seem to number in a small amount, if I'm to understand," Carver said slowly.

"You know what? this is bullshit, I'll show you-" She turned and stomped towards the door, pulling on her thin leather cloak. "I'll show you all!"

the door slammed behind her, and Cailan shared a look with Duncan and carver. "Maybe we were a bit harsh."

Carver pursed his lips, a sinking feeling in his chest. "Who's going to make sure I don't die of the blight?"

The three men sat in silence for a moment.

"I'm sure she hasn't gone far," Duncan sighed, reaching for his cloak again. "I'll go get her."

"Y-Yeah that sounds like a good idea," Cailan said quickly, looking like he desperately wanted to get up and follow after him.

X

It was dark out when they found her, not through Duncan's searching, but with Leliana's help, and she had the smuggest look on her face when she marched back through the door.

"Who's useless now!" she said triumphantly, holding a small sack of coins in her hand. "They even paid in advance."

Carver looked suspiciously at the bundle. "What kind of nightmare job pays in advance?"

Cinna's eyes glittered mischievously.

X

"The old couple who runs the place said they'd be overjoyed to have another pair of hands work on the place for the weekend," she said as Duncan set Cailan down in a broken down wicker chair. the rest of the group walked into the old stone building, noting the cobwebs and dust buildup in every conceivable crack. "We ran into each other in the marketplace and bonded over croissants. They said I can make doughnuts here!"

"A bakery..." Carver said approvingly, walking around the main counter into the old stone kitchen. "Not bad."

"You said you come from a family of bakers." Duncan nodded, observing the duty columns and pillars supporting the roof. It was an impressive little building, if down on its luck.

"That's right!" Cinna whipped off her cloak and immediately started rolling up her sleeves. She grabbed a dirty old apron and laced it up behind her. "I need to clean out the oven and also everything else before I even start thinking about cooking, but!" she pulled her braid apart and redid it into a carefully spun bun. "I already have half a recipe in the works. Plus Edna and Sal said they'd pay extra if I found more workers."

She crossed the room and handed Carver a spindly old broom. He looked down at it, and then back up to her, broken arm still slung in her shawl. "You seriously expect me to sweep?"

"And I suppose I'm just supposed to sit here and look pretty, hm?" Cailan sighed, but then she tossed him a rag as well. He stared at her, scandalized. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"You can reach the counter, wipe it. Food is supposed to go there," she said, making her way around the room. Carver watched her patchwork skirt swish behind her, and he scowled, awkwardly holding the book with his good hand. "We have time to burn waiting on the others, might as well spend it doing something productive."

"Curing the blight and fighting darkspawn don't count?" Duncan asked, half amused. He had taken off his armor and rolled up his sleeves.

"You guys said I don't have any talents, I'm just making use of the gifts the maker gave me." She smiled when Cailan let out a startled laugh.

"I've never heard you use that phrase before," he smirked.

"I'm trying to blend into the population. Is it working?"

Carver struggled awkwardly to hold a broom and then gave up entirely. "Give me another job," he muttered, thrusting the broom back into her hands. "Something that requires fewer hands."

Cinna frowned but retreated into the back of the building for a moment. Carver looked back at the king but followed after her when she called his name.

The kitchen was just as messy and derelict as the front room, if not more so. The floors were made of cheap stone, aged after generations of walking around on them, and blackened from age and numerous kitchen fires. The walls were in a similar condition, the stovetop charred and brittle from thick smoke clouds dying the aged wood over the decades. Cinna approached the stone fireplace, rubbing off a thick layer of soot and grease with her fingers, surprised to still find more charcoal underneath, in need of cleaning. She turned to him with a glint of determination in her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"You can help me with this, when I need to crawl inside and clean it."

Carver blanched at the thought. "That... doesn't sound safe."

"It really doesn't," she laughed nervously, biting her thumbnail. "But it needs to get done, or they'll have another kitchen fire. My dad's cleaned out our chimney before, I'm sure... I can figure it out..."

"Isn't there some sort of broom or stick...?" Carver asked, looking around the room.

Cinna snapped her finger at him and bounced on her feet. "Right! I'm sure it's around here somewhere..."

"Got it." Carver knelt and picked up the chimney cleaner, careful not to poke himself with the iron spikes. Cinna reached over to take it from him, but he held it back. "Nope, no way-I'm not letting you crawl in there on your own."

"What, like you can do better?" She huffed, glaring up at him. "You're twice as likely to get yourself stuck. I'm small enough, I know I won't get stuck."

Carver scowled at her. "Are you calling me fat?"

"No, I'm saying you have broad shoulders, dumbass. Now give me that!" She reached for it again, but he held it over his head.

"What's going on in here?" Duncan asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

Cinna turned her eyes pleadingly over to the commander. "Carver's not letting me crawl into the oven!"

Duncan was silent for a moment, staring at them both before he looked at Carver. "Good work, son." and then he went back into the main room.

Carver spluttered something unintelligible. Distracted, he was too slow to stop Cinna from reaching up on her tiptoes to grab the handle of the chimney cleaner. "AHA!"

On instinct, he grabbed her arm and tried to get it back. "Not so fast!"

"Carver, you're new, you obviously don't know how things work around here," she said sweetly, looking up at him. Carver swallowed but didn't release her arm. "Don't you know I'm actually the secret leader of our little ragtag group? I call the shots around here. And I'm telling you to let go and let me crawl into the oven."

Carver stared down at her for a long, hard moment. "You're definitely not the leader."

"But I had you wondering for a second, right?" She said as if that proved a point at all. "I have seniority!"

She tugged on the handle, and he held sight, inadvertently pulling himself closer to her. If he wasn't sick with the blight and had another arm, he'd be able to overpower her, easy. "Duncan has the most seniority-and he just said he didn't think that was a good idea!"

Cinna narrowed her eyes at him and scowled. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"That... that doesn't even work if you're the one going in there. You're going to suffocate and die, and then I'm going to waste away from the blight and so is the king of Ferelden, and then we'd all be doomed because you decided to crawl up a chimney!"

She gasped at him, ad put a hand on her chest, "Carver, are you saying you care about me, you big softie?"

"Wh-YES, of course!" He spluttered, immediately releasing her arm as if she burnt him. His pale face had a pinch of color in them as he gaped at her. "Is this group made up of idiots? of course, you're the doctor."

Cinna blushed at that and scratched her cheek, coyly. "I am… aren't I... Doctor Starosta, I like the sound of that..."

Carver swore under his breath and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving her to her fate entirely. He motioned at Duncan, stacking chairs and clearing up space in the main room.

"She's all yours," he grunted, and made his way over to the king, still holding the rag in his hands, and looking down at it intensely. "What are you so upset about?"

"I... I wipe... the counters..." Cailan said, his voice far away and hazy. He looked up at Carver with an even more distant look in his eyes. "I sit and I wipe the counters..."

Oh, oh okay, so Carver had caught the tail end of Cailan having a meltdown over doing mundane, normal people chores. Fantastic. He ripped the cloth out of the royal's hands and moved over to the counter, stifling a cough as another shiver wracked his body.

"Make yourself comfortable," he snarked at the blond, batting away cobwebs and dust bunnies with his one, working arm. "Something tells me we'll be here for a while."

Nobody argued with him otherwise.