An alienage was much the same in every human city.
It didn't take a seasoned traveller to know where they might be located. It was always the poorest district, always the 'bad side' of the city, where the only humans who ventured were city guards and drunkards looking for trouble.
Normally, Fenris would rather be anywhere else than in an alienage, where he couldn't escape the discomfort of seeing his own kind waste away in poverty and filth. If they were to find the slavers who hunted him, though, the alienage was their best lead. So he and Nyssa picked out a merchant with a cart full of goods and followed him through the little winding streets, to the market quarter.
The city so far seemed pleasant enough. The market quarter was a collection of food stalls, hawkers and brightly coloured shops selling everything from fresh flowers to live birds. Fenris spied a hat in the window of one shop, an elaborate tricorn with brilliant blue peacock feathers, and thought how Isabela would like it. No doubt she had accumulated many of her own by now.
"Fenris," Nyssa called from behind him, and he turned. Zie beckoned him across the street, a few feet away from an elven beggar slumped against the wall of an apothecary.
Fenris grimaced. "What?"
"We have directions to the alienage." Zie pulled a coin from hir purse and tossed it into the beggar's hat, which was placed on the ground in front of him. "Ma serannas, lethallen."
Fenris looked over his shoulder as they walked away. "That was a whole silver piece."
"I looted it off a slaver," Nyssa replied, shrugging. "He helped me, and looked like he could use a decent meal."
"He would be better served learning how to defend himself for those coins," Fenris said grimly.
"That one? He's missing a leg. What can he do, hit the guards with his cane?"
He shook his head. "It's not just the guards. Elves fight each other for scraps and do the humans' work for them, when they could resist. Instead, they waste their freedom by squatting in the gutter and treating themselves as if they had already lost."
"We did lose, if you didn't notice," Nyssa pointed out.
"I know."
"All the poverty and crime in the alienages is entirely by design, too. Keep the elves sick and poor and they're easier to contain."
"I know."
The Ostwick alienage had no gates, much like the Kirkwall alienage, and thus no guards to get past. It was dirty and run-down with a large, painted vhenadahl taking pride of place in the centre around the ramshackle houses. There were a few children playing under its branches; they fell silent when Fenris and Nyssa entered. Nyssa removed hir hood, baring hir tattooed face to the sun, and a few of them gasped. Evidently, the Dalish had reached legendary status in Ostwick, at least in the eyes of children.
"Where is your hahren?" zie asked them, while Fenris stood back uncomfortably. He knew very little of children, and even less how to interact with them.
The tallest of the lot, a boy with a shock of ginger hair, took a few steps forward. He crossed his arms and regarded them with a distinctly insolent gaze, then said something in elven. Nyssa's eyebrows shot up.
"What did he say?" Fenris asked.
"Something I don't want to translate." Zie fished a little bag from hir sash, drew out a slice of candied fruit and tossed it to the boy, who caught it deftly. The other children clustered around, eyes bright and ears pricked up.
"Where did you get those?"
"At the market," Nyssa said, "while you were looking at hats." Zie grinned at him. "Never underestimate the power of bribing children with sweets."
Fenris looked around while Nyssa busied hirself with the children, who were all shouting questions and comments in a mixture of broken elven and Common. Then he spotted it: a rickety wooden board near the local well. He'd seen similar such signs in smaller villages. There were layers upon layers of paper nailed into the wood—job offers, obituaries, notices of sale, and 'wanted' posters.
There. An offer of work on the docks, promising generous payment in Orlesian crowns. He had seen such advertisements before. Tevinters would lure workers in with false promises, then detain and pack them onto slave ships bound for Minrathous. With Orlesian currency valued over Marcher coins, it was an irresistible offer for impoverished elves.
"Are you looking for work?" said a voice behind him.
Fenris turned to find an elven woman looking at him with a hopeful expression. Her hair was greying at the roots, and she had a stoop in her posture that indicated many years of hard labour. Her gaze flicked to his markings, then seemed to decide his appearance was of less consequence.
"Is there something you need done?" he asked.
"My son," the woman said. She gave him a small portrait of an adolescent with the same blue eyes as her. "He wanted to become a sailor. We argued, and he ran away." Her mouth turned down at the corners, deepening the furrows in her cheeks. "I fear he's joined the crew of some merchant ship, and I'll never see him again."
"When did you last see him?"
"Nearly four days ago."
"Have you noticed anything else strange?" Fenris pressed. "Humans asking odd questions? Other disappearances?"
The woman frowned. "There's always disappearances, serah. City guard don't bother with the likes of us."
"They should," Fenris said grimly. He glanced over to where Nyssa stood conversing with an old man he assumed was the elder, surrounded by a gaggle of curious children. "We will look into your son's whereabouts."
The woman thanked him profusely, blinking back tears, and tried to pay him with a few meagre bronze coins, but Fenris refused. If they were too late and the Tevinters had already sent the boy to Minrathous, it would be a vile act to take advantage of her desperation.
Nyssa squeezed the hahren's hand, extricated hirself from the children and wandered back over to Fenris.
"Any luck?" zie asked.
Fenris held up the advertisement he had torn from the board.
"Yes," he replied. "We must find the docks."
Fenris spotted the Tevinter ship immediately.
The docks were a ten-minute walk from the alienage, and made up part of the old quarter of Ostwick – the original settlement that had sprung up around the water and spread outwards as its population expanded. The buildings showed their age in bricks coated in years of grime and silt, peeling paint and cobblestones worn smooth by the constant trample of boots. The bay held dozens of merchant ships too bulky to manoeuvre into the harbour's pinch point. This was by design, he suspected. Kirkwall's harbour was constructed the same way.
"There," Fenris said to Nyssa, pointing, as they stood near a set of stairs leading down to the crowded piers. "That is a Tevinter vessel."
"How can you tell?"
"I've seen ships like those in Vyrantium and Minrathous, with the dragons carved into the side. It is designed to allow slaves to be concealed in its depths. See how it's shaped like a bell?"
"What's the plan?" Nyssa asked.
"Kill the slavers. Free the slaves. Destroy the ship."
Zie grinned. "Good plan. When?"
"Tonight," Fenris said. "After sunset. Slavers work at night."
He stared out into the bay, brow furrowed, and watched the ship bob up and down on the water.
Had he been brought in to Minrathous in a ship like this? Chained together with other slaves, shivering and sick with the motion of the waves? Or had he been born a slave, like so many who lived and died in the Tevinter Imperium?
It was almost sunset. The breeze was cooling rapidly, and carried with it the stink of fish and rotting vegetables. Fenris wrinkled his nose. He didn't miss the smell of the docks in Kirkwall, that was for certain.
"That's a stench I'll never forget," Nyssa said, as if zie had read his mind. "It's sad that I'm far too used to it now."
"I thought you didn't like cities."
"I don't, but I've spent a night or two in dungeons and tunnels when I had nowhere else to go. The smell gets into everything."
Hir stomach rumbled all of a sudden, and zie flushed.
"It seems your appetite is unaffected," Fenris pointed out, smirking.
"You know what the solution is to that, right?" Nyssa said, and looped hir arm through his. "Let's eat. Then we can do everything else."
Most of the shops they had passed on the way to the docks were still open. The scent of cooking meat made Fenris's stomach growl with hunger, but he was in no mood to be stared at tonight, and it would have been foolish to draw more attention to themselves than necessary. They bought food from a stall owned by a dwarf with the longest beard he had ever seen, and found a secluded little spot in a park near the harbour where they could sit on their cloaks and eat in peace.
"I've been thinking," Nyssa said aloud.
Fenris glanced up, swallowing a mouthful of bread and cheese. Zie worried at hir own bread with nervous fingers, tearing chunks off and discarding them in its linen wrap. He waited for hir to continue.
"About… that kiss. Or kisses…"
Ah. He had wondered when zie would finally bring it up, and was surprised to find himself feeling disappointed.
"You do not owe me an explanation," he said, as zie began to speak. "I understand."
Nyssa's brow wrinkled. "No, you don't. You don't even know what I was about to say."
Fenris rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Ah. In that case, please continue."
"I, um…"
Zie glanced away, cheeks red, and then back to him. The words came out in a rush, as if zie were impatient with hirself for hir hesitation.
"I do like you. More than I realised. And not just because of that kiss, which was…" zie took a quick little breath that made his ears burn, and shivered. "Good. Really good."
Fenris tried not to look too pleased with himself, though he couldn't help the blush that spread across his cheeks. "But?"
Nyssa sighed. "I didn't really…expect this to happen. I'm supposed to be going to Val Royeaux."
That piqued his curiosity somewhat. Zie had mentioned heading to Val Royeaux when they had first met, though why anyone would willingly go to Orlais was anyone's guess. He had his fill of Orlesians after the debacle at Chateau Haine. Still Fenris found himself asking, "Is there a reason I cannot accompany you?"
Nyssa looked startled, then thoughtful.
"Well, no," zie admitted. "But...you might resent going with me into Orlais. I'm not sure you would like it."
"I doubt I would," Fenris said. "But I have enjoyed travelling with you."
Nyssa's dark eyes softened. Zie put aside hir food and rose up on hir knees to scoot closer, fingers cupping his chin as zie leaned over to kiss him.
Fenris hadn't realised until recently how much time he had wasted on the sheer, exhausting task of merely surviving. Until the last few days—until he met hir—he hadn't stopped to think about what he needed, much less what he wanted.
He wanted Nyssa, though. He knew that with a fierce certainty.
When they broke the kiss, it was only to exchange slow, warm smiles. Then zie pulled hirself into his lap and Fenris wound his hands in hir tunic, mind blissfully vacant. Zie tasted like honey and cinnamon, and hir hands wandered over his arms and shoulders. Then zie pressed flush against him, hard—oh, hard—and Fenris pulled back. Electricity rushed down his spine, turning his emotion into something dark and hungry, and this wasn't the time or place for it.
"We will be arrested if we're caught," Fenris said, voice low, though he made no move to pull away.
Nyssa brushed hir nose against his and kissed him again, punctuating with a teasing nibble to his bottom lip.
"Unlikely," zie said, eyes glinting. "I chose this spot so we could talk privately."
"And you intend to just talk?"
"That depends."
"On?"
Zie leaned forward, hands on his shoulders, and planted a firm kiss on his neck. Fenris shivered. "On how good you are."
"Good?" he mumbled into hir hair. "How could someone like me be good?"
He hadn't meant to diverge so abruptly from their playful banter. He hadn't actually meant to say anything at all, but the words rose in his throat without warning or thought; inspired, perhaps, by hir admission of feelings. Either that, or a sudden attack of self doubt in the hour before they were to strike a blow against the ones that hunted him.
Nyssa pulled back and sat on hir haunches, arms still draped around his neck. Hir gaze searched his face, observing the furrow of his brow, the downturned corners of his mouth. Then zie took his chin between hir thumb and finger and made him look at hir.
"You're not a bad person, Fenris," zie said.
"And what do you know of me?" Fenris shot back. He regretted his sharp tone instantly, but zie didn't look offended. "You don't know where I have been; what I have done. I don't know all I have done."
Nyssa made a non-committal sound. "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter."
"No, it doesn't," zie said simply, and he frowned. "Everyone does things they regret. Everyone makes bad choices sometimes. No-one is doomed to sin forever because of it. That's shemlen nonsense, and I don't give a fuck what the Chantry says about it."
Fenris had to laugh at that. "Not all of us can dismiss the Chantry's teachings so easily."
"Fair enough. But if you want to compare choices, you don't know the things I've done. You don't know what I'm capable of." A fierce note crept into hir voice. "No-one can ask you to be perfect, but it doesn't mean you're not a good person. You've been through a lot, Fenris."
He was suddenly aware of the uncomfortable lump rising in his throat, but his ingrained stubborn streak won out. "You are being kind."
"So what if I am? Don't you deserve a little kindness?"
This was not what he wanted to think about right now. Fenris shook his head and kissed hir again, lips trailing over hir cheek, then buried his face in hir neck. Hir hands combed through his hair gently.
"We should probably get going," he murmured. "It's sunset."
Nyssa sighed. "I know, I know." Zie slipped off his lap and landed on the grass with a dull thud, reaching for hir cloak. "Let's go kill some slavers."
They didn't have to wait long at the docks.
No more than ten minutes after darkness fell, the Tevinter ship lowered one of its boats. Its passengers were near impossible to see in the fading light, but Fenris knew there would be two or three at most. More men would attract suspicion, and the Tevinters relied upon subterfuge to procure their slaves in larger cities.
Along the pier stood an assortment of human and elven workers, carrying packs and clearly waiting for their would-be employers. Fenris and Nyssa observed from their hiding place: behind a nearby lean-to piled high with crates. The wooden planks beneath them were soft, scrubbed pale by daily cleaning, but the smell of rotting fish still lingered in the air.
The boat bumped the docks, and the Tevinters climbed out. There were two of them, Fenris noted, and at the same time he spotted the Tevinter-made sword hanging from one's belt. The other was likely a mage, though clearly he was not fool enough to carry a staff so openly.
"What's our plan?" Nyssa said into his ear. "Confront them? Kill them?"
Fenris stood and drew his sword.
"Alright, kill them it is."
They approached the pier, listening to the rise and fall of the slavers' voices as they addressed the assembled workers. Nyssa took hir staff from hir sash and let it grow to full length, covering the crystal with hir hand.
"Should we flank—" zie began, then Fenris cut hir off with a shout.
"MALEFICAR!"
The workers separated like a parting wave. They didn't need to know Tevene to be familiar with the term: its use was common across Thedas.
"You," snarled the unnarmed man, his teeth bared.
Fenris strode forward, sword pointed at the Tevinters, and addressed the bewildered crowd of workers directly. "These men are slavers. I don't suggest working for them."
"What do you know, rabbit?" shouted one human, a large man with a mop of shaggy hair.
"Hey!" said the elf next to him. "Watch your mouth."
"Do what you wish," Fenris interrupted, as the human opened his mouth indignantly. "But is your freedom worth what they are offering?"
The workers began to talk amongst themselves, their expressions uncertain and a little fearful. A nervous few separated themselves from the group, began to walk towards Fenris—
"No, you don't!" the unarmed slaver bellowed, and flung out his hand. A bolt of energy formed in his palm, and the hairs stood up on the back of Fenris's neck. Then the spell vanished. As he watched in stunned silence, ice crystals appeared on the tips of his fingers and began to grow, merging across his palm and down his wrist. Nyssa appeared from across the pier, behind the slaver, hir hand frosting white in the dim light. The workers backed away rapidly, their voices tangled in panic, and the pier shook with the impact of rough boots.
The other slaver drew his sword and advanced. Fenris stepped into his path and said, "Face me."
Their blades clashed, hard enough to feel the vibrations in his teeth. Behind the slaver he spotted Nyssa raise hir staff and cast a spell, one that made the air smell like lightning. Fog began to rise from the water, permeating through the wooden boards.
The slaver pressed forward step by step, pushing his weight against the locked blades. His sword was a hand-and-a half blade, not near as long or difficult to maneuvre in such close quarters. If the slaver's strength won out, a sword through the gut would be the likely outcome for Fenris.
But he didn't have lyrium markings.
Fenris felt the locked blades give away as he channelled the lyrium. The slaver stumbled forward and—like Fenris had hoped—through him, falling to his knees awkwardly on the pier. He lunged forward and punched his fist through the man's heart, ending his life with a quick twist.
It seemed whatever Nyssa did had worked, and his abilities had returned in full.
The mist made it near impossible to see anything more than vague shapes, but he had lived with Fog Warriors for a time, and he'd learned how to 'see' with more than his eyes. He could feel the footsteps rumbling through the wooden pier, and he could hear the spark and snap of magic. That was enough for him. He hunkered down and kept moving forward, hefting the blade on his shoulder—then froze as the slaver mage stumbled into view, hands flaming and eyes darting from side to side.
"Curse the elf," he muttered. "Where is she? Where is she?"
Fenris rose from a crouch as the man blundered towards him. He readied his sword, waiting for the moment to strike—
Then a bolt of lighting struck the mage in the chest.
He screamed, writhing as the electricity coursed through his body, then fell to the ground. As Fenris froze in place, the fog began to recede, revealing Nyssa with hir staff at the ready.
"Creators!" zie said, as zie spotted him. "I could have struck you with that spell! Why are you so close?"
"I suppose I was lucky," Fenris said dryly, and poked the dead slaver with his toe. "The same can't be said for him."
Nyssa waved him over to the slavers' boat, a vessel that looked barely big enough for two people to sit without their knees brushing together. "We should hurry. Someone will probably call the guards."
"We had better hope they don't call the templars," Fenris said grimly, and grabbed the oars.
Nyssa looked up at him, a fearful expression flashing across hir face. Then zie took a deep breath, nodded and sat.
Rowing the boat was not as easy as it looked. Fenris had seen someone do it once before, but he had never been required to perform such a task while serving Danarius. To hir credit Nyssa didn't comment on his rowing (and to be fair, floundering would have been a more accurate description), and for that he was grateful. He managed to stop the boat alongside the ship then, with a quick glance at Nyssa, swung himself onto the rope ladder hanging off the side.
The Tevinters thought themselves subtle enough to escape notice and powerful enough to ensure there were no witnesses to their actions, but the first guard noticed quickly enough when Fenris leaped over the side of the ship and ran him through. The thump of his body on the deck alerted the other guard, who began to shout.
"So much for stealth," Nyssa said, as Fenris helped hir onto the ship.
"Keep your magic to a minimum," he said, as zie aimed hir staff at the approaching guard. "There are likely slaves on this ship."
"Seriously?" zie grumbled. "Am I supposed to fight them with my bare hands?"
The guard swung his greataxe in an overhead arc. Fenris pulled Nyssa out of the way and the blade hacked into the deck with a great thud, leaving a sizeable split in the wood.
"Cursed slaves!" the guard growled. He reared back, pulling at the weapon, but Fenris was already upon him. His fist phased through the man's head.
"I'm glad to see your abilities are working," Nyssa said. The man dropped, blood gushing from his nose and mouth, and Fenris withdrew his gore-covered fist. "Ugh. That's disgusting."
"Would it have been better if I used my blade to run him through?" he replied, and bent to wipe his fist on the guard's tunic. Zie rolled hir eyes.
"Are you quite finished?"
The voice was loud enough to reach them across the ship. Fenris rose slowly, shifting his grip on the pommel of his sword. Beside him Nyssa straightened; the smile disappeared from hir face.
The man who emerged from the ship's cabin was no guard, that much was immediately clear. Power rolled off him in waves; if that alone did not give him away, the black, polished staff he held certainly did.
"Well, well," Fenris said. "A magister deigns to greet us personally."
"Magister Auren Calix," the magister said. He was dark-haired, with a pointed beard and wearing robes of a rich red. "Put down the sword, slave, and surrender yourself quietly. I will ensure your journey back to the Imperium is comfortable."
Fenris was shaking with anger and fear and adrenaline, and he gripped his sword so tight his pulse throbbed in his palms.
"Never," he growled, and readied himself.