Fledge
Naishe left the naked Zevran in their room and exited The Perfumed Spring quickly. It was a very strange feeling, walking the streets of Antiva City. She'd done it before, but everything was different now. She looked at the buildings and lights and people as though for the first time. Torches created burning orbs of amber light that made the city look like it had been dipped in honey. Smells from all over the world. Fruity wine and rich tobacco hung in the air. There was no breeze tonight. The air was warm. The city was warm. But it was more than that; it was alive. One beating heart that connected everyone and everything. And the lifeblood, the people, were all absurdly content. Every face Naishe passed seemed blissfully relaxed. Nothing had changed for them. If only they knew.
The Rivaini was sad to wave goodbye to Zevran. He had saved her from more than he could ever know. Even if it were indirect, no one had ever done anything like that for her before.
Clarissa. As Naishe approached the harbour, the salt in the air brought her ex-lover's face to mind. She felt a stab of guilt. If only she were here now. They could sail away together, both free at last.
She'd want you to be happy.
Naishe sighed. She missed Clarissa dearly. Their time had been cut short. But another face drifted into focus. Thir's. She recalled the advice he'd given her.
We're not responsible for anyone but ourselves. You can choose to be free, or you can choose to be saddled with all the world's problems.
That's all she'd ever wanted. Freedom. No one ever said it would come easy.
The smell of salt grew stronger. The closer Naishe came to the ocean, the more excited she became. The waves gestured to her to come with them with blue tipped fingers and pointed out to the never-ending expanse of their world. They were frenzied. Messy. Carried away with childish excitement. She belonged with them. Naishe knew that now. Not in some safe little cage to be petted and pruned. Out there. In the thrill and uncertainty of it all.
Cumberland. Minrathous. Val Royeaux. Jader. Starkaven. The Nocen Sea. The Colean. Once just fantasies. Now she could go to all of them.
The ocean twinkled at her like someone had spilled a million sapphires over the world, the sun just beginning its long climb up the sky.
Naishe locked eyes with The Siren's Call, as beautiful at dawn as it was in full daylight. The darkness allowed her a more muted grandeur as she stood proudly on the water. Mysterious. Dangerous. Naishe wondered whether the ship was going to take her to her life or her death. The thrill of not knowing was what pushed her closer.
The Siren's Call. How apt.
The Rivaini was a few feet away from The Siren when the annoying snag in her plan that she'd been trying so hard to ignore sprung to mind. She didn't know how to sail anything bigger than a dinghy. Reeling in all the mooring lines alone would surely take hours.
"Step one, steal a ship... step two, somehow master sailing immediately and vanish without a trace. Step three, live happily ever after. Easy." The Rivaini sighed, "Great tactics Naishe."
There was a man several metres away inspecting a sheet of parchment that was so long it was trailing on the ground. She figured the parchment was the shipping manifest. She'd need to at least get through him, somehow.
"Use your wits…." Naishe muttered to herself, actually looking around her to see if there was anything that could aid her. Her eyes alighted on something. "Or…use your tits." Maybe she could start up her new life as a poet.
She walked up to the man with her best saunter and smiled.
He didn't look up, not even when she was inches away from him. He had thick pince-nez perched on the bridge of a large hooked nose dangerously close to falling off that magnified his eyes. A thick covering of freckles and a tuft of flame red hair sprouting out the top of his head like a carrot marked him as no Antivan. It was rare to find a Ferelden so, well, Ferelden this far east and not on holiday. Though he wore a midnight blue coat of thick crushed velvet, it was moth-eaten and dusty. He was probably broke.
Naishe cleared her throat. And then, when the man didn't look up, again more loudly.
He jumped, somehow only just realising she was there. The manifest dragged along the boardwalk as he turned to peer at her. His eyes were so heavily enlarged that he reminded Naishe of an owl.
"Can I help you?" his voice was high and snooty. The way he barely refrained from rolling his eyes suggested that he believed her to be utterly unworthy of his time.
"You can." Naishe nodded her head at The Siren's Call and continued, "I own that ship and plan to set sail as soon as possible. I assume you're the one I speak to about that?"
"I am the port master," he said proudly, puffing out his chest. "All maritime business goes through me."
"Well, that's my ship," Naishe repeated.
"Documentation?"
"Uh…documentation?"
"Yes," he hissed.
Naishe figured confidence was her best bet here. "I wasn't aware I needed it. This is my ship after all."
The man looked at her like she was a naughty child and smirked. "That be as it may, I need the correct documentation to confirm your ownership of the vessel." He raised his eyebrows, "You'd be amazed at the kind of riff-raff that come along here with false claims."
OK, new tactic.
She put on her best posh noble's voice and said, "My husband is Lord Mali-Kricco."
The man's ears twitched a little at the name.
"He'd be veeeery upset if he heard I was denied access to my own property."
"Is your husband with you?"
"Uh…Not presently." Naishe thought fondly of the wound in his chest. "He sent me."
"Well unless he turns up with the correct documentation, I'm afraid I cannot permit you to board." He looked at her with smug eyes.
Naishe scoffed, "Ridiculous. I've done this countless times before without any trouble."
"Rules are rules, my dear."
"Would some coin sway your decision?" Naishe regretted not bringing a large plank of wood to hit the man over the head with.
With a look that suggested nothing gave him more pleasure than to deny her her request, the port master said, "Absolutely not. Maintaining the safety and security of all vessels moored here is my primary responsibility. What I do effects every person in Antiva City from the poorest street rats to the royal family themselves! I do not take my position lightly serah and neither should you. Now unless your supposed husband turns up with clear evidence of ownership I must ask that you-"
"Perhaps I could help with that."
Naishe spun around.
The man approaching them was instantly recognisable. The jangle of a hundred body piercings. The intricately woven tattoos of chains and symbols Naishe didn't recognise and a nautical star along his arms. The thick red beard that reached his belly. Dante Calico. The pirate she'd rescued from the Qunari cage. He looked significantly less dishevelled. His boots were new and his clothes weren't shredded. The hilt of a rapier was poking out of his belt and the swelling on his face seemed to be going down too.
Naishe grinned, "Dante."
Just as she was wondering where his fellow captive was, Casavir appeared.
"'Ello poppet. Long time no see."
Naishe grinned, "Fancy seeing you here. Doesn't seem like the escape plan lasted long."
Casavir shrugged and plucked an apple from one of the nearby crates. He crunched into it and said through a large mouthful, "Eh. We 'scaped the Qunari fuckers. Figured we'd enjoy the city…" As he spoke his eyes became glued to the arse of a beautiful woman passing by.
Captain Calico continued, "We ran into some…logistical issues." The pirate had a habit of expressing every word he spoke through flourishing hand gestures as though every syllable needed to be visually underlined.
Casavir's head snapped back to face them. "No fuckin' ship. Can't do no sailin' without a fuckin' ship."
"Eloquently put."
"Bite me, Captain."
"Seems like you boys really know how to think on your feet." Naishe shot them both an amused glance.
The port master looked thoroughly offended to be so immediately ignored by his company.
"I am a very busy man. You can take your chit-chat-" his nasally voice was cut off by Naishe holding a finger to his lips.
"One moment sweetheart." She addressed Dante and Casavir again. "It seems to me that we all have problems that the other could solve."
"'owssat?"
The Rivaini gestured casually to the gleaming galleon beside them. "I have a ship but no crew to sail it."
"It isn't legally-"
"Quiet." Dante snapped. His eyes flicked dangerously at the port master. His mouth shut immediately.
"And…" Naishe continued, "You know how to sail."
"Tits and brains."
"Casavir."
The blonde Starkhaven rolled his eyes and took another bite of his apple. He locked eye contact with the port master as he bit, making the latter all the more uncomfortable by licking the juice slowly off his lips.
Naishe shrugged, "Hardly mind-blowing logic."
Dante stepped forward and lay a leathery hand on her shoulder.
"A beautiful ship for a beautiful woman."
Naishe said nothing, staring into his eyes unblinkingly.
"And what's to stop us from taking your beautiful ship from you, Bela?"
Bela. Beauty. Hardly great poetry. Was this Dante's way of softening his threat?
Naishe didn't respond for a while. She allowed their conversation to be interrupted by the screams of the gulls overhead and the shouts of sailors casting off from the dock. Felt the sting of the salt in the air so strong that it made the eyes of any visitors water.
What could she do to stop them? Physically she was not at an advantage, and her combat skills were unlikely to rival those of pirates.
"Nothing. But I should warn you that the last man that denied me my freedom now has a knife sticking out of his chest." She smiled sweetly.
It was a gamble, but Naishe had to try. She had nothing to lose and no other cards to play.
Maybe he was feeling uncharacteristically generous that day. Maybe the prospect of the breath-taking Rivaini aboard the ship was temptation enough. Dante had a broad, rather amused smile on his face.
"Besides, I seem to recall you owing me a favour. Are you a man of your word, Captain?"
The energy in their shared gaze was electrical. Both of them daring the other to act.
Naishe wondered whether the pirate was looking at her as an equal or simply an opportunity.
Dante's smile turned to a husky chuckle that shook his shoulders in a musical rhythm.
"Bela…How can I say no?"
Naishe nodded, internally relieved. "Atta boy."
He let go of her and turned to the port master who still looked irritated by his company.
"You wouldn't stand between a girl and something she wants, would you?"
The port master shrunk off his high horse as Dante spoke. He looked like he might throw up at any moment.
"Sh-she…The correct documentation has n-not…not been presented…" his voice quavered.
"Let me rephrase," Dante put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "You wouldn't stand between a girl, her handsome armed friend, and what she wants, would you?" He didn't raise his voice, but there was a ruthlessness that had not been present in his tone when he'd spoken to Naishe.
The other man gulped.
"Here. I'll even sweeten the deal." Dante unhooked a jangling pouch from his belt and tossed it to the quivering port master.
His eyes bulged when he looked inside and he quickly tucked the pouch away and attempted to regain some long lost dignity.
"Off you trot," Naishe eyed the port master.
He seemed torn between following his cherished rules and risking a knife in his back. IN the end, he folded.
Naishe and the pirates watched him scuttle away muttering to himself about "nasty folk".
When he was out of earshot, Casavir said, "Weren't that the fool's gold thatat con man tried teh flog us?"
"Finest pyrite in all the land, so I'm told." Dante nodded, clearly very pleased by his own wits. "He denied our beautiful companion here. Didn't deserve a reward."
Naishe grinned.
"But as for my reward…" Dante flashed her a toothy smile.
Naishe rolled her eyes. Ever the man.
"Let me introduce you to her."
Together they walked up the gangplank of The Siren. Naishe tried to make it look like she knew what she was doing and where she was going, but the ship was still scarcely more than a stranger to her.
Luis had often promised her many nautical excursions in the past. To nearby islands or else just an outing on the sea. But those promises never came to fruition. Naishe supposed Luis preferred the control of staying on land. Every time he went away on business he would say, "Next time, my princess. I'll take you along next time." Nothing ever came of those words either.
The Rivaini was starving for the ocean now. Always within eyeshot. Always at the back of her mind. Now they could finally meet again, her and the sea. Like long lost lovers finally reunited.
Every creak of the deck under her feet sounded like a sigh of relief. The Siren's Call was welcoming her home.
The motions of ship bobbing on the waves felt so right. First one way and then another. Never the same. Never predictable. The ocean made no promises. It wouldn't claim to nurture you or despise you, it simply was.
Naishe felt herself falling in love for the first time.
Behind her, Dante was already making plans.
"Best crews will be in Llomerryn. We'll head there first."
"Can we sail it with only three people?"
He laughed, "We're professionals Bela. Of course we can! I've never captained a ship that sunk."
Naishe looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Who said you were Captain?"
Dante smirked, "Twenty years of experience says so. You don't know the first thing about sailing or managing a crew."
"It's my ship."
"Your husband's ship."
She narrowed her eyes. "I rescued you from a bloody cage."
"And I am eternally grateful for that." He pressed a hand over his heart. "But this is no job for you." He was trying to sound kind. He really sounded patronising.
Naishe didn't see this argument going anywhere. She said, almost as an afterthought, "In Rivain the women are in charge."
Every time Dante smirked his beard twitched, "Well, I've always liked a women on top."
Naishe rolled her eyes.
"This is the ocean, Bela. The most seasoned captains in Thedas have trouble sailing through her waters."
"Sounds like Thedas needs a better captain…"
Dante smiled again. "Hold on to that ambition my beauty. But I guarantee you won't last a week steering this thing yourself. I can, as you say, show you the ropes."
He held out his hand for her to take.
"If it has to be this way…" Naishe took his hand and shook.
"No time like the present." He whistled and started barking instructions at Casavir and gestured for Naishe to follow suit.
Together, they cast off and managed to catch a small gust of wind to take them east. Within an hour, Naishe's hands were already sore from the ropes. Casavir moved like a monkey, swinging from the rigging to the mast and down to the deck with ease. Naishe learned quickly that she would need to get a lot stronger to handle herself half as well as he could. Dante was at the wheel, yelling orders to his two man crew.
They were on course for Llomerryn and Dante and Casavir were discussing who of the usual faces would be best to take for their crew.
Naishe wasn't listening. She was looking out from the stern of the ship and the life she was leaving behind. Zevran, that magnificent creature. He would never understand the extent of what he had done for her. He probably hadn't bore it any further thought. Naishe wondered what he was thinking about now.
And Clarissa. Sweet Clarissa. If only she could have seen her now. Seen how happy she was. Naishe hoped Clarissa was happy too. She hoped she would find someone else to love so resolutely, and that that person would love her back just the same. The Rivaini realised it was unlikely she would ever see that wonderful girl again, and she gazed sadly down at the water beneath her. It churned and sprayed in the wake of The Siren ploughing through it.
She heard those words again.
"We're not responsible for anyone but ourselves. You can choose to be free or you can choose to be saddled with the world's problems."
The waves seemed to agree with Thir's words. Once the ship was beyond their grasp, they swept and crashed over each other as though it had never passed through them, unburned by the memory.
Naishe knew she couldn't simply cast her memories aside in the passing wind, but she would not let them rule her.
"Bela! Hey! Come see this!"
Naishe smiled. Bela. She kind of liked it. She was sailing away from her old life, so why keep her old name? Naishe would always remind her of her mother, of Luis. It was always drag her back. Naishe belonged on land. Bela belonged to the sea.
"Isabela." She sounded it out to herself as she walked towards the bow. She liked Isabela even more. It felt like she was creating herself, just as she'd always wanted. No one else to make the rules, just her. Isabela.
Luis had been wrong. She wasn't a princess. She was a queen.