SERENA

Hair as dark as Brecilian bark and silver eyes as bright as moonstone, ever since I first laid eyes on this woman, there's been no doubt in my mind that she's a force to be reckoned with. I don't know if it's because of the confident way she swivels her hips, or the way she stares down Hawke like a scheming succubus eyeing a potential mate, but something about her makes my insides tingle like I've just come in contact with a tainted Tevinter magister. Her stage name doesn't make that feeling much better.

After all, who would call themselves an exotic wonder? Willingly?

If she's working for the Blooming Rose, there's not much left to speculate on more private accounts. And don't even get me started on the flashy getup.

But then again, the Dalish have never been too keen on what's considered 'high fashion' or anything close. Nor do we have anything similar to the services of the Blooming Rose. So, that might just be my inherent bias talking. As well as my continued hatred for makeup and other pointless, confining clothes, what with my preferred wandering lifestyle.

"Questions are boring," Idunna purrs and sits down on the edge of her bed. "Why don't we have some real fun."

She strokes the sheets with over-dramatic enthusiasm.

I've got to give her credit. She is persistent.

But as tempting as a woman as she may be, Hawke wouldn't fall for such obvious evasiveness. If he does, Varric and I haven't been training him long enough yet.

"Hawke, go easy on this . . . lovely creature," Varric says, his voice sounding unusually charmed, melodic.

My alarm and nerves skyrocket.

Never have I ever seen Varric look at or speak to anyone, other than Bianca, the way he's doing so now. And with someone who's already so suspicious.

"You should listen to your friend," Idunna agrees.

The words roll off her tongue like a heart-sickening, monotone lullaby, one that makes goosebumps rise across my flesh. But at the same time, I also feel somewhat . . . numb.

Hawke scowls at Varric. "We have to ask her about Keran," he says. "What's your problem?"

"Yes, yes," Varric dismisses Hawke, his eyes still fixated only on Idunna. "But certainly there's no harm mixing a little . . . business with pleasure."

Hawke shakes his head and glares at Idunna. "As charming and relentless as you are, I'm here to investigate," he declares with purpose.

Idunna merely stares at him. "Answer one of my questions first," she insists. "Who told you about little old me?"

Hawke opens his mouth and lifts one hand up to her, evidently prepared to snap. But then, he freezes. Almost like a chunk of meat has got stuck in his throat. "It was . . . Vivika. She showed me . . . her books."

Idunna stands up straight and struts over to Hawke. "Now. That wasn't so hard . . . was it?" she asks. She sneers around at the three of us. "So, Vivika sold me out, did she? That drab, pathetic, little sewer rat. She will be dealt with," she growls, malice now coating her voice like fine Orlesian silk.

A hazy feeling passes over me. It's as if gravity's pushing harder onto my very being, attempting to weigh me down, to keep me stationary. Every limb in my body feels ten times heavier than normal, like that one time Tamlen and I caught the annual Wintersend flu.

I know I've felt this sensation somewhere else before. Sometime in the past, but not when I was sick. It was back in my time in Ferelden. But where? When? The haze makes it so hard to remember just about anything. It was at some point . . . in the circle tower. The circle . . . when . . .

"Just do one more thing for me," Idunna murmurs, realization finally hitting me. "Draw your blade," Hawke unsheathes his dagger, "and bring it gently across your thro—"

I smack Idunna so hard in the chest with the blunt end of my scythe, she instantly flies backward, slamming against the nearby wall.

She slides down to the ground with a loud, painful gasp, her mouth dropping wide open in shock. I walk up to her and swiftly put my blade against her throat, my anger already threatening to boil over the surface, and my body just as ready to pounce now that it's broken free of her magic.

Idunna blinks up at me in horror. "How did you . . . ? Oh shit!"

"You're going to answer all our questions. Now," I snarl. "And I strongly suggest no more funny business."


HAWKE

"Well, that was certainly more eventful than anticipated," I remark as Varric, Bethany, Fenris, Serena, and I strut through the dark Lowtown market.

We've just finished up our most quest to find Kieran, which of course led us all the way to Darktown, to a group of secret blood mages.

"Oh, you think? I thought it was rather dull, running around, fighting blood mages, demons, and walking skeletons. But that's just me," Serena says. However, despite the joking sarcasm in her voice, her delivery comes off flat, irritated. Her rapid walking pace only accentuating the underlying fury dwelling underneath.

I purse my lips and focus straight ahead. "Yes, well . . . perhaps I'll be able to make it up to you at the Hanged Man now? Drinks will be on me."

"At least there's one highlight to this evening," she grumbles.

"No kiddin," Varric concurs. "What I would like to know is how you fought off that woman's blood magic in the Rose. The mysteries around you just keeping growing larger and larger, Twinkle Toes."

Serena flashes Varric a roguish smile, brimming with her typical inimical warning. "Yes, well, what you should be focusing on is the fact that we're all still alive. Miniscule details are better left for later. And by later, I mean never."

Varric huffs. "Always the elusive one, aren't you?" He shakes his head.

"Of course. If I wasn't, how else would you portray me in your stories?"

"A warrior temptress that's a master of seduction?"

Serena grins and seems to contemplate the thought. "We can certainly make that work."

"And this is why I like you!" Varric snickers.

"Oh?" Serena raises an eyebrow at him. "And here I thought it was because we both have a mutual admiration for crossbows and handsome chest hair."

"That too." Varric nods.

Our group reaches the Hanged Man. And not a second too soon, before they go onto another rant about their unique . . . fetishes.

The strong whiff of alcohol and vomit assaults our nostrils the moment we step through the door. It's startling. But not nearly as surprising as what awaits us all inside.

A sultry, young woman with beautiful sun-kissed skin and scantily clad clothing appears to be arguing with three scruffy-looking humans over at the bar—one a dirty blond, another a lighter blond, and the final one a redhead. Their 'conversation' quickly escalates when the dirty blond slams the woman's tankard down on the bartender's counter.

The woman doesn't appear too affected by the outburst, at first. Even so much as leaning in closer to him to give him a flirtatious smile. But the next moment, she grabs hold of the offender's head, bangs it hard on the counter, and watches him writhe in agony before falling to the floor.

A full on fight between the four ensues.

The other blond tries to grab her, only for her to squirm her way out of his grasp, just in time for the red-head to accidentally bash him with a wine bottle across his skull. In a flurry of subsequent punches and a knee to the groin, the red-head also crumbles to the woman's divisive onslaught.

But the first dunderhead doesn't give up.

He reaches up to draw his sword. But he's just not fast enough. The woman draws her dagger first, pressing the tip firm against his throat. A few more whispers are exchanged between the two of them, and then he and his two buddies run off, leaving the woman alone to continue drinking at the bar.

Serena heads over to the counter as soon as the men pass us, and I trail behind her, curious about her sudden initiative to separate from the group. Much more so to approach the successful, brawling woman.

"Oh, Creators. You must be joking," Serena says out loud.

The woman at the bar perks up. She shifts her gaze onto Serena, and with a lustful smile, eyes the she-elf up and down in admiring recognition. "Well, I'll be an Andrastian Sister." She sets down her drink, angling herself further towards us, to reveal an even clearer view of her ample cleavage. "I never thought I'd see you here in Kirkwall, sweet thing. How fortuitous."

Serena stops a few feet away from the woman. "Isabela, you seem to be doing well."

"Much more so now," Isabela purrs. She leans in close, bending her head down low until her lips are only a breath away from Serena's. "Care to join me for a night of fun for old times sake?" she whispers. The sensuousness of her tone hints that she's got more than a night of friendship in mind for Serena.

The Dalish lifts one unexpected hand and gently strokes a slow line down Isabela's neck. "Love, not in front of the children." She giggles. She then glances over at me, breaking their confusing spell.

My heart thuds deep inside my chest. I clear my throat and struggle to maintain eye contact. "I . . . uh . . . hate to interrupt . . . but . . . you two . . . ? Are you . . . ?"

Isabela's heated gaze pivots onto me. "And who is this?" she asks. "A friend of yours?"

"You could say that." Serena shrugs, amusement flickering in her shimmering teal eyes.

Isabela grins. "Mm… Interesting," she whispers. "You must be new around here. I'm Isabela, previously Captain Isabela. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow."

Serena's charming demeanor vanishes. "You lost your ship?" she asks, stepping back. "Isabela! When? How?"

Isabela looks down at the ground. She shifts her weight between her feet in an awkward manner. "It's . . . a long and rather comical story," she says. "But I'll save that story for later. Perhaps you'd be able to help me with my current task at hand?"

Serena lets out a loud sigh. "Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?"

The pirate shrugs. "Must be something in the water."

"Well, the water should be dealt with immediately then."

A laugh builds in the back of my throat. However, I somehow manage to stifle it in fear of Serena's earlier foul mood returning. No point in ruining all this development up until now. We should strive to only go up from here, if we're to ever get past it.

Appearing to notice my quiet struggle, Isabela concentrates on me. Her inquisitive gaze glimmers like a darkened sunset over the water—the scorching heat boring deep into my own. Probing me. Evaluating me. Searching for some sort of promise, no doubt related to her earlier request.

I gulp and rub the back of my neck. "I'd be more than willing to help myself," I start, "but we need to have enough time to rest tonight. Tomorrow we're set to go to Sundermount, to visit the Dalish."

Serena scowls at me. "And when did you decide this?" she asks, sounding suddenly accusatory and suspicious.

"We spoke about it a week ago, while we were at Fenris's mansion."

"I don't recall this," she says, skepticism clear in her voice.

"Well, you agreed to it. I have a witness." I gesture to Fenris, who's standing a few paces behind me with the others.

He crosses his arms and looks off to the side. "Do not drag me into this, Hawke," he growls.

"Well, it's true!"

Serena keeps her death stare locked on me. "Fenris, did I really agree to that?" she asks without looking at him.

Fenris doesn't respond. His attention remains fixated on the flickering fireplace across the tavern.

"Fenris!" Serena snaps.

He sighs and lowers his shoulders. "You may have agreed to it, yes. In your defense, that was after your third bottle of wine and no food."

"Well, that explains a lot," Serena scoffs.

She licks her lips and strokes her fingers through her long, dark hair.

"You can't go alone with the others?" she asks, the question sort of coming off like a plea.

"I need you to be there," I insist. "You're the only one who can relate and talk to them. Alone, they'll just look at us as unwelcome outsiders."

And that's being optimistic.

"Why do you dislike the idea of meeting with the Dalish anyways, Twinkle Toes? What are you keeping from us?" Varric asks, at last backing me up.

"It's nothing," she persists, avoiding eye contact.

All of us glare her down.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Nothing important!"

"You say that, but I for one am not convinced," Fenris says.

"When are you ever?" Serena narrows her gaze at the other elf.

Varric lets out a single, hearty laugh. "She has a point!" He shrugs.

Fenris grunts and turns away.

Serena refocuses her attention back onto me.

"Please. I need you," I assert.

She bites down on her bottom lip. Burying one hand deep into her roots, she ruffles the strands, then looks back up at me. I give her my best pleading look, and she sighs. "Very well," she groans. "But I expect due payment in return, preferably in fine wine, and I'm not talking about cheap fine wine, either. I want the best of the best. Understood?"

"Of course." I can't help but grin.

Serena huffs and faces Isabela. "Until then, you come with me," she says. She uses one finger to lift up the pirate's chin. "We'll deal with this acquaintance of yours later."