SERENA
The birds early morning choruses rouse me from the depths of sleep.
Every part of me aches and tingles. But in a relaxing, fulfilling sort of way. Similar to a long stretch, following a victory lap.
I flicker open my eyes in the warm, contented daze. A part of me not wanting to do so, for it not to end.
Zevran's sitting propped up in bed beside me, polishing a dagger with a red, tattered cloth. He glimpses over at me, mid-swipe, and smiles. "Ah, finally awake, are you?" he purrs, setting his things down. "Good. Now tell me: did you thoroughly enjoy our excursions last night, my dear?"
He lifts one teasing eyebrow at me, and I flush. Hard.
The memories of the night before coming back to me in a rush.
Fenris groans in bed behind me, and I flinch.
Whipping around, I look over my bare shoulder to face him, the sudden realization of where I am, and what I'm not wearing, hitting me like a ton of bricks.
Fenris eyes flutter open with a groggy scowl. Upon focusing enough to fixate on me, he also 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 passionate hands and lips on my skin.
Fenris merely sits up with a grumble and tousles his hair. Recovered in an instant. The blanket covering us drops to his lap in the process, revealing his lyrium-tattooed chest, for all to witness. Yet another form of 'proof' that what I remember actually happened. That I didn't just imagine the whole scenario in some raunchy, self-suppressed fantasy.
Zevran scoots to the edge of the mattress and hops to his feet. Unveiling that he, too, is stark naked. "Now that you are both up, let us move to the kitchen, yes?" he offers with a swift stretch of his arms, over his head, flexing the tanned, toned muscles there with confident ease. "Nothing beats a hearty breakfast after a long tussle. Don't you agree?"
He places his dagger on the nearby nightstand, then turns around, standing full frontal to us. His . . . form even more pronounced in a beam of morning sunlight.
"You really are shameless, Zevran Arainai," I mumble, covering my burning face. Unable to believe his matchless boldness, even after all this time we've spent together.
He chuckles and grins down at me, unmoving. "Yes. But you know you love it."
"So, how are you feeling, Fenris?" I ask, desperate to break the looming silence, now lingering between us.
The two of us are currently sitting at the kitchen table alone together, fully clothed, after Zevran ran off to complete some of our correspondence errands on his own. Mostly to touch base with our Antivan allies he's told me about, and the contacts we're considering for our 'exchange' with Vigil's Keep.
Fenris looks up at me from his steaming coffee. The first he's done so, since Zevran's left. "I . . . am fine," he answers, setting the cup down on the table with a clink. "And . . . you?"
"Fine," I mutter.
I twist a lone strand of hair around my index 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.
"I should . . . apologize." He veers his watchful gaze away, at long last.
Fear and dread crash down into my stomach.
Oh no.
Does he regret last night?
Is that what he's apologizing for? What this awkwardness is all about?
Is he trying to let me down easy?
"I'm . . . not sure what to say in this type of situation," he continues, while I can barely breathe.
"Just speak your mind, Fenris," I insist, my heart pounding harder against my ribs.
Get it over with already, if you must.
It'll hurt, but I can heal. I always heal.
The sooner, the better.
Fenris purses his lips. He stands up tall 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 skin. "Are you 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 previous tension and worry. "Oh, Fenris." I lean into his touch. "I thought for a second you regretted what happened last night!"
"What?" Fenris balks back with a jolt. "No! I—"
I smile up at him, and he looks away and clears his throat. A slight blush reddening his cheeks.
"I could never."
A warm, tingly feeling fills my chest. I can't stop myself from grinning from ear to ear. "Neither can I," I admit, squeezing his palm.
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."
Fenris nods and reclaims his spot quietly beside me.
"Now that that's out of the way." I pick another grape off my plate and toss it into my mouth. "How are you feeling about what happened with your sister? And Danarius?"
"It . . . is still difficult to process." He lowers his head in pensive reflection. "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 second grape I threw into my mouth. "More worthy? Of me?" I gasp.
My eyes widen.
I quickly reach out and latch onto his hand.
"Fenris, you have always been worthy. Always!"
He smiles and softens his gaze. The caring in its depths so evident, so sweet, and vulnerable, it makes my heart flutter and weak.
"But are you . . . are you certain about this?" I ask, nervously glancing away. "I'm happy about the way you feel for me. I am. But if this arrangement is too much, too fast, I—"
"I am certain." He brings my palm up to his lips, planting a tender kiss upon it. "Zevran may be insufferable, at times," he gives an apathetic shrug, "but nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you."
His stare locks with mine again on that last part. The intensity behind it so fierce, unrelenting, it's like he's undressing me down to my very soul, with his eyes.
Those gorgeous, sparkling, green eyes.
My cheeks burn hotter than a raging wildfire in summer.
"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 last night. So, like Zevran said, 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.
A very big deal.
"I . . . just didn't want you to feel pressured about this," I continue, unable to look at him yet. "I'm obviously still a bit nervous about this myself. It feels like I don't really know where to turn."
"I understand what you mean," Fenris chuckles.
And by the gods, how that deep rumble of his makes me want to 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 our battle's even begun.
Fenris hums in mute agreement, once again lifting his coffee back to his oh-so-soft, 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 today?" I offer, standing up, pulse again now racing. "Maybe the sea air will at least help us figure that out?"
Or at the bare minimum help cool me off.
Mythal knows, with this ongoing heat, I need it.
FENRIS
The sea's crashing waves hurtle into the perilous cliffside below. Their assault unending. Unbound. The repetitiveness of their constant sprays and mist, filling the air: a perfect calm.
Serena takes an audible deep breath from the dense, salty air, stretching her arms out wide, over her head. "Ah, this is wonderful," she sighs, 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 stand directly behind her. A part of me still posed to turn back. "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 throws her head back and 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 have in store for us next.
Serena giggles. "I try to be."
She stares out at the sea again. Her gaze growing softer in silent reflection, making me curious.
"I have a question," she says at last.
I tilt my head at her, waiting.
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, dropping her shoulders. "I see."
A tense silence falls between us. One where I can tell she is waiting. Giving me the space, should I choose or need to continue.
But how do I do that?
What does she want me to 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, to give some reason as to why this fact bothers me so. "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 remaining calm, understanding. Accepting even. 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, acknowledging my own 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 the warm statement. The sentiment unexpected, but mutual, and freeing. "That is my hope, as well." 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 hard in a gust of wind.
"Maybe we can find something to help ease or cure the pain of your markings too, while we're at it?" Serena tears my gaze away, back to her once more. "That'd be another way to stick it to Danarius."
She flashes me a mischievous grin, and I chuckle at that. "Yes, I think I'd like that." I smirk. "If it is possible."
The talk of my struggles reminds me of her own of late.
"Speaking of the past, would you like to drop by your clan while we're 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 evident in her slumped form makes my hands ball into fists.
This is frustrating.
I want to support her, as she always helps me.
But is there even a way? Or am I to merely stand here, useless like this?
Serena sighs. "I'll need to go sometime soon, though," she says. "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 to take care of 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 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 paper city, scattered across my desk.
I groan and reach for the next in the line up.
Yet another request for aid. One of perhaps hundreds I've received this past month alone.
Their influx only seems to grow with the ever-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, come summer's end. Forget their ability to see 'reason' or trying to negotiate to an agreement, in favor of maintaining law and order.
"Maker, I should have just become a tailor," I grumble, bowing 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? Oh right. They didn't give me much of a choice. Meredith basically just threw the title at me after I slew the Arishok, and that was that. The nobles took it from there.
I sigh and stare back down at the cursive letter again. The flamboyant scribbles very Orlesian and already giving me a headache.
What I would do for a good drink right about now.
Soft footsteps enter the foyer behind me.
"Ah, Bodahn! Right on time!" I smile and turn to face the dwarf, only to find Merrill approaching instead. "Merrill," I gasp, taking her in, wide-eyed. "What a surprise. I . . . wasn't expecting you. It's rare for you to leave that mirror of yours of late. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Merrill twiddles with her thumbs, her gaze fixated on the floor.
"Right. I'm actually here . . . because of that," she says.
She sighs and shakes her head.
"I can't believe I'm doing this, 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 stomps over to the front of the fireplace, her unusually stiff posture fuming, emitting anger. "I think . . . I think I have to go back to the . . . spirit that helped me at the start of all this."
She hangs her head.
I scowl at her, already regretting I asked.
"Why do you think this demon will help?" I turn back to my letters.
Maker, I don't want to get involved. I really, really don't. But it's too late to get her to stop talking now.
"He knows about the mirror." She draws near. "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?"
A good question. Considering.
"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. "Nothing bad ever comes from summoning demons!"
Merrill gulps.
"That's why . . . why I need you to come with me," she stammers.
And for a second, I feel bad for lashing out her, even briefly.
"The eluvian was lost before Arlathan fell. 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, clenching her fists. "If it brings back this artifact of the elvhen, if it gives us even one piece of our history, it's worth any risk!"
"Is it?" I stand up, closing in on her now. "What if you overpower me? What then?"
Merrill smiles up at me from within my towering shadow, her determination firm, unrelenting. "You've faced down Qunari, and varterrals, and ogres! You can do this. 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 me the same of me.
To hurt another, a friend, should this venture of yours fail.
How very kind.
I grunt and turn away from her again, struggling to bite down the words, my arguments. To hold my tongue, to keep our waning peace, if nothing else.
"What about Marethari?" I rub at my neck. "Maybe she knows an alternative to summoning the demon?"
I refuse to call it anything less. Because that's what it is.
"The Keeper would never help me!" Merrill huffs. "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. 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, in any reasonable way possible. But what she's asking for . . . it's ridiculous! She might as well be begging to start a civil war within our ranks! Not to mention this could endanger us all again. And for what? For something that may or may not lead to her being possessed or pay off?
"Merrill," I start. Ready to turn her down, for good.
For the sake of our friendship. Her safety. And this group's already delicate peace.
But then her pouting worsens. And beneath her tensing exterior, I know if I refuse her now, she'll just go find the blasted thing on her own. Without anyone else to make sure she remains in check. That she doesn't turn into 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, hating this already.
Merrill's face lights up like I've just saved her world. "Ma serannas! You've no idea what a relief that is!" She beams up at me with unrestrained joy, her wide, green eyes glimmering 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.
Varric was right. I should never have wondered if things could get worse . . . for fate may have just come knocking at the door.
Father, give me strength.
