SERENA
I wake up to the birds' morning choruses chirping outside. Every part of my body aches and tingles, but in a relaxing, fulfilling way. Like after indulging in a nice, long stretch, following a victory lap.
In a contented daze, I flicker open my eyes.
Zevran's sitting propped up in bed beside me, polishing a dagger with a cloth. He glimpses over at me after a moment and smiles. "Ah, finally awake, are you? Good. Now tell me: did you thoroughly enjoy our excursions last night, my dear?"
I flush. The memories of the night before come back to me in a rush.
Fenris groans in bed behind me, and I flinch.
Whipping around, I look over my bare shoulder at him, the sudden realization of where I am hitting me like a fresh ton of bricks.
His eyes flutter open with a groggy scowl. Upon focusing enough to fixate on me, he stiffens.
Zevran laughs. "What are the two of you getting so flustered for? It is too late to be acting so shy now, yes?"
My cheeks burn another ten degrees hotter. The embarrassment climbing as I recall what it felt like to have both their hands and lips on my skin. The different ways that they 'took' me.
Fenris merely sits up with a grumble and tousles his hair.
The blanket covering us drops to his lap in the process, revealing his lyrium tattooed chest again for me to witness. Yet another form of proof that what happened couldn't have just been a dream. That I didn't just imagine the whole thing in some raunchy fantasy.
Zevran scoots to the edge of the mattress and hops to his feet. Unveiling that he, too, is still naked. "Now that you are both up, let us move to the kitchen, yes?" he offers with a swift stretch. "Nothing beats a hearty breakfast after a lengthy tussle. Don't you agree?"
He places his dagger on the nearby nightstand, then turns around, so he's standing full frontal before us now. His form even more pronounced in a stray beam of morning sunlight.
"You really are shameless, Zevran Arinai," I mumble, covering my burning face. Unable to believe his matchless confidence.
He chuckles and grins down at me, unmoved. "Yes. But you love it."
"So, how are you feeling, Fenris?" I ask, desperate to break the looming silence, now hanging between us.
The two of us are currently sitting together at the kitchen table, fully clothed.
Fenris looks up at me from his coffee. The first he's done so, since Zevran ran off to complete one of our many errands for the day; his core tasks for the afternoon involving passing correspondence to his Antivan allies, hiding out here in Kirkwall, and the contacts we're considering using to exchange information between me and Nathaniel at Vigil's Keep.
"I . . . am fine," Fenris answers, setting his coffee cup down on the table with a clink. "And . . . you?"
"Fine," I mutter.
Then I twist a lone strand of hair around a finger and shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Creators, why is he acting so awkward about this? Why am I?
Fenris watches me. And as hard as I try to not get unnerved by it, it's impossible to avoid. Not when he's so unwavering.
"I should . . . apologize," he veers his gaze away from me, at long last.
Oh no.
Fear and dread crash down on me.
Does he regret last night? Is that what this is all about?
Is he trying to let me down easily?
"I'm . . . not sure what to say in this type of situation," he says, and my heart pounds even harder against my ribcage.
"Just speak your mind, Fenris," I insist.
Get it over with already, if you must. It'll hurt, but I can heal. I always heal.
And the sooner, the better.
Fenris purses his lips.
He stands up and walks over to me.
With a visible, awkward gulp, he reaches out, and cups one armored hand around my cheek. "I was rather rough with you last night." He strokes his thumb gently across my cheekbone. "Are you certain you are not hurting anywhere? Can I . . . get you anything?"
"Wait." I grasp onto his gauntlet. "Is that what this is all about? You're worried you hurt me?"
Fenris gapes down at me, visibly struggling to find words, appearing shaken, taken aback.
I laugh.
Relief washes over me like a cleansing wave, ridding me of all tension or worry.
"Oh, Fenris." I lean into his touch. "I thought for a second you regretted what happened last night."
"What?" Fenris balks with a jolt. "No! I—"
I smile up at him, and he looks away and clears his throat.
"I could never," he whispers.
A warm, tingly feeling fills my chest.
I can't stop myself from grinning widely at him. "Neither can I," I admit.
Fenris peeks over at me, and I gesture with my head over to his chair.
"Come. Sit. There's no reason to be so tense," I insist.
Fenris nods and reclaims his spot, quietly beside me.
"Now that that's out of the way." I pick up another grape off my plate and plop it into my mouth. "How are you feeling about what happened with your sister? And Danarius?"
"It . . . is still difficult to process," he confesses, lowering his head. "I thought that if I could reconcile with a part of my family—a part of my past—I might be able to live as a free man does . . . That I could finally become someone more worthy of you and your affections."
I almost choke on the next grape I'd put in my mouth.
"More worthy? Of me?" I gasp.
My eyes widen. I quickly reach out and grab his hand.
"Fenris, you have always been worthy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
He smiles and squeezes my palm. The caring in his depths so evident, it makes my heart flutter and melt.
"But are you . . . are you certain about this?" I ask, nervously glancing away. "I'm happy about the way you feel for me. But if this arrangement is too much, too fast, I—"
"I am certain." He brings my palm up to his lips. "Zevran may be insufferable, at times," he concedes with an apathetic shrug, "but nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you."
His gaze locks with mine as he says the last part.
The intensity behind it so fierce, it's like he's undressing me, all the way down to my soul.
My cheeks burn into a raging wildfire at the thought.
Okay. I wasn't expecting that.
That was smooth. Too smooth. I completely forgot he had it in him.
"If-If that's how you really feel, then . . . okay," I stutter, pulling away. Although, I don't know why.
He's already seen me naked. And in more than one compromising position.
Like Zevran said earlier, there's no reason to act so shy around him. A little hand holding or open flirting shouldn't be a big deal.
And yet, for some reason, it is.
"I . . . just didn't want you to feel pressured about this," I continue. "I'm obviously still a bit nervous about this myself. It feels like I still don't know where to turn."
"I understand what you mean." Fenris chuckles.
And gods, how that deep rumble of his makes me swoon.
"I have no idea how we're going to all act around Hawke and the others now," I whisper. Already at a loss before we've even begun.
Fenris hums in mute agreement, once again lifting his coffee back to his tempting lips. Blissfully unaware of what every word and action of his is doing to me.
"Perhaps we should escape to the Wounded Coast for a day?" I offer, standing up. "Maybe the sea air will at least help us figure that out?"
Or at the bare minimum cool me off.
Mythal knows I need it.
FENRIS
The sea's crashing waves, hurtling into the perilous cliffside below, constantly spray us with a light, lingering mist. Their assault unending. Unbound. The repetitiveness: a perfect calm.
Serena takes an audible deep breath of the dense, sea-salt air, stretching her arms out wide, overhead. "Ah, this is wonderful," she sighs with vocal delight, her feet kicking forward, dangling off the ledge. "I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to relax by the sea. What with all our running about."
"Is this truly wise?" I ask, standing directly behind her. A part of me still posed to turn back. While she somehow sits on the ground, at peace, in front of me. "Will Zevran not be upset about us wandering off like this?"
I would hate to upset the Crow now when we have only just commenced this arrangement. One mustn't beckon trouble too soon, if this is going to work.
Serena laughs. "Zevran? Oh no! He'd never get mad over that! Besides, we left him a letter. If anything, he'll probably catch up with us soon enough. Or guilt trip us later on. Depending on how long his errands take . . . And his mood."
"You are quite optimistic," I grumble. My mind already aching, imagining what absurdity the Crow might dare ask of me next.
Serena giggles. "I try to be."
She stares out at the sea again. Her gaze growing softer in reflection, making me curious.
"I have a question," she says at last.
I tilt my head at her, waiting for her to ask.
She glances at me, seeming hesitant, afraid. "Your markings . . . they . . . didn't hurt you last night, did they?"
Ah, so that is why.
"No. They were fine," I answer.
"Then . . . was there something else? Did anything bother you?"
I squint at her, confused where she is going with this.
"You've been quiet," she says. "Like something's troubling you."
I gulp.
Am I that obvious?
Or is she simply that skilled at seeing right through me?
"I . . . Last night . . . I began to remember, my life before," I confess. "Nothing of substance. Only . . . flashes. But then, they vanished."
"Oh," Serena whispers, drooping her shoulders a bit. "I-I see."
A tense silence falls between us.
One where I can tell she is waiting. Giving me space, should I choose or need to continue.
But how do I continue?
What do I say?
"I thought finding Varania would open up a new world for me, one that was lost forever," I attempt to carry on, to elaborate. "But it's impossible. I can't get it back. . . Zevran convinced me that perhaps that means now is the time to leave that past and the memories behind. But how do I do that?"
I sigh and scowl down at the ground, knowing that what I am about to say may hurt or disappoint her. But I want to tell her the truth. She deserves no less.
"It's just . . . difficult to overlook the stain that magic has left on my life. If I seem bitter, it is not without cause."
Serena nods.
Her expression remains calm, understanding, accepting, just like she always has. Not taking offense.
Why I ever thought that part of her might change perplexes me.
"Perhaps he is right," I mutter, accepting my own utter foolishness. "Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don't where that leads. Do you?"
Serena smiles at me. "Wherever it leads, I hope it means we'll stay together."
My heart soars at her warm expression and statement. The sentiment unexpected, but mutual, and freeing.
"That is my hope, as well," I concur.
We both beam at each other, then stare out at the Waking Sea again.
A stray gull calls on the cloudy horizon. Its wings flapping in the wind.
"Maybe we can find something to help ease or cure the pain of your markings too, while we're at it?" Serena says, tearing my gaze away from the gull and the choppy waves. "That'd be another way to stick it to Danarius."
She flashes me a mischievous grin with the offer, and I chuckle at that.
"Yes, I think I'd like that." I smirk. "If it is possible."
The talk of my past reminds me of her own struggles of late, and the close proximity of her clan.
"Speaking of the past, would you like to drop by your clan, while we are out here? We can, if you want."
Serena's jaw clenches. "No. Not now," she whispers, staring down at her lap. "I still can't face them yet."
The hurt in her voice makes my hands ball into fists.
It is frustrating.
I want to help her, but how?
Is there even a way?
Or am I to merely stand here helpless like this?
Serena sighs. "I'll need to go sometime soon, though," she says, interrupting my own internal ponderings. "I'm not done with them. Yet. They have a lot to answer for, and I still have a lot of questions about my parents, also . . . If only I didn't have so much unfinished business at the moment."
She leans forward and buries her face in her hands—the weight of the world seeming to bear down on her thin shoulders.
Yes, there is much more than her clan's betrayal for us to worry about right now.
Her magic. The Haven woman. The Chantry. This . . . 'spirit'.
There are several things the two of us must take the time to address.
An effort I am confident we will see through, on this new path, together.
One step and difficult conversation, at a time.
HAWKE
The letter stacks appear endless. Each pile a tower in its own right, like a miniature city, scattered across my desk.
I groan and reach for the next correspondence in the line up.
This one's yet another request for aid. One of perhaps hundreds I've received this past month alone.
They never end.
And they only seem to grow worse with the mounting tensions between Orsino and Meredith.
This week I've had to break up four of their public spats. Each incident more intense than the last. At this rate, there won't even be an ounce of civility left between the two. Forget their ability to see reason in favor of maintaining law and order.
"Maker, I should have become a tailor." I lower my head, burying my fingertips deep within my roots.
Diplomacy is definitely not all it's cracked up to be.
Why did I even agree to becoming Champion in the first place?
I sigh and stare back down at the letter again.
What I would do for a drink right about now . . .
Soft footsteps enter the foyer, and a smile tugs at my lips.
Ah, Bodahn, my savior!
I turn to face the dwarf, only to find Merrill approaching me instead.
"Merrill," I gasp, taking her in, wide-eyed. "What a surprise. It's rare for you to leave that mirror of yours alone, lately. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I say the statement in tease, not meaning anything more by it. But the usual mirth it elicits fall short for the elf, who seems unnaturally tense and nervous. "Right. I'm actually here because of that," she whispers and stares down at the ground.
She fiddles with her thumbs for a moment. Twiddling them back and forth in an endless circle.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she says, dropping her hands and shaking her head. "But I need your help."
"My help? How?" I quirk an eyebrow at her.
"The eluvian won't work, which I'm sure is news that fills yours and Serena's hearts with joy," she sneers and paces over by the fireplace. "I think . . . I think I have to go back to the . . . spirit that helped me at the start of all this."
I scowl at her, already regretting I asked.
"Why do you think this demon will help?" I retort and turn back to my letters.
I don't want to get involved. But it's too late to have her stop talking about it now.
"He knows about the mirror," she says, stepping closer. "I don't know how much. He wouldn't tell me everything, and it's dangerous to trust . . . He said he witnessed its forging. He told me how to cleanse it of its corruption. He must know how to make it work."
"How do you know it doesn't work?" I snark.
A fair question, I think. All things considered.
"Well . . . do you think it's supposed to just sit there and show nothing at all? I can feel the power in it, but it's . . . like it's asleep. I can't seem to wake it."
"And so you summon a demon!" I toss the letter back onto the desk, her logic pushing me to my wits end. "Nothing bad ever comes from summoning demons!"
"That's why . . . why I need you to come with me," Merrill stammers.
And for a second, I feel bad for lashing out her like that. Demon, sarcasm, or no.
"The eluvian was lost before Arlathan fell," she continues. "The only creatures who would know anything about it are in the Fade. I've called to the spirit, but he doesn't seem to hear. He was sealed in an artifact on Sundermount. I have to look for him there. But . . . if things go wrong . . . if he possesses me, I need you to strike me down."
I pivot in my chair again to glare at her. "You want to summon a demon, that may possess you, then have me kill you? How is that a plan?"
"You haven't left me any other choice!" she yells. "If it brings back this artifact of the elvhen, if it gives us even one piece of our history, it's worth any risk!"
"What if you overpower me?" I stand up, closing in on her now. "What then?"
Merrill holds her ground and smiles up at me, her determination firm and unrelenting. "You've faced down Qunari, and varterrals, and ogres! You can do this," she says with unshakable resolve. Or naivety. I can't tell which. "There's no one else I trust. I need you, lethallin. I'd never forgive myself if someone else got hurt because of me."
And yet, you ask the same of me.
To hurt another, should your venture fail.
How very kind.
I grunt and turn away from her again, struggling to bite down the words, to hold my tongue.
"What about Marethari?" I ask. "Maybe she knows an alternative to summoning the demon."
I refuse to call it a spirit.
No, I must emphasis what she is dealing with. One of us must!
"The Keeper would never help me!" she says. "Why do you think I had to find the demon in the first place?"
She sighs, and I glimpse back at her again.
She's crossing her arms now. Pouting again. Like a child. "The whole clan has moved on by now, anyway," she whispers. We'll never find her."
And glad I am to hear that!
But I'm also torn.
I hate upsetting her like this. I want to help her. But what she's asking for . . . it's ridiculous. She might as well be begging to start a civil war in our ranks.
"Merrill," I start. Ready to turn her down. Once and for all. For the sake of our friendship, her safety, and the peace.
But then her pouting gets worse. And beneath her tensing exterior, I know if I refuse her now, she'll just go run off to find the thing on her own. Without anyone there to make she doesn't get possessed. That she doesn't actually become an abomination.
Damn it all.
"If you're determined to do this, then I'll come with you to make sure nothing goes wrong," I relent, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Merrill's face lights up. "Ma serannas! You've no idea what a relief that is!" She beams up at me with unrestrained joy, her wide, green eyes sparkling with renewed enthusiasm. "The demon is sealed in a cave on Sundermount. The sooner we get this over with, the better."
"On that, you and I agree," I grumble, spinning around to face my desk again.
Now there's only the matter of telling Serena and the others about it. Oh, I imagine she'll be ecstatic!
Oh, and Fenris and Anders, too. Everyone.
I sigh.
I should never have wondered if things could get any worse . . . for fate might have just come knocking at the door.
Father, give me strength.
