"Okay, okay, Robin," Varric started, the dwarf leaning heavily on the table Lyra was sitting at. The Hanged Man had quieted down only a little from the loud roar it was not too long ago, the hour probably around midnight. Lyra shoved her half-full tankard of ale away from her, drunk enough that the smell of alcohol had begun to overwhelm her. She nodded at Varric, letting him know she was still conscious enough to listen.
"Hit me," she slurred, concentrating on focusing her eyes on the dwarf sitting across from her.
"The thing, that you do, the thing where you pretend to be, someone you're not…" he gestured to her, and she nodded, frowning.
"Acting? Spying? One of those," she shrugged and blinked slowly. Varric nodded quickly and continued, trying not to forget what he was trying to say.
"Aye, we could use that, to our advantage. Hear me out."
Fenris stumbled over, the front of the elf's armor stained with blood. He bumped into the table they were sitting at, dangerously holding a full pitcher, and poured more ale into Lyra's tankard.
"Mmnnoo…" Lyra groaned, shying away from the liquid, and almost falling off the bench in doing so.
"I know. Boss's orders." he slumped onto the bench next to Lyra, absently grabbing her arm to hold her back from falling off.
"Broody, what's that?" Varric asked casually, pointing to the blood stains on Fenris's chestplate. Fenris looked down and then back up to meet the dwarf's gaze, shaking his head in question. Varric blinked. "The blood?"
Fenris waived his question away and drank from his own mug, when the red-headed human woman came up behind them.
"There you are, Varric. The bartender should have cut you off an hour ago if he knew what was good for you." she glared pointedly, resting her hands on her armored hips. Lyra blinked up at her confusedly, trying to make her eyes focus. I haven't been this drunk since Orzammar. Varric made a noise and looked taken aback.
"I've never let anyone cut me off before in my life," he gathered his tankard closer to his chest protectively. She shook her head disappointedly and noticed Lyra's tipsy stare. Her posture softened some and her smile was small, but genuine.
"We haven't really met, yet. It's good to have another woman join in the crowd. I'm Aveline."
Lyra smiled up at her and offered her hand, to which Aveline shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lyra. Forgive me for being a bit messy right now."
"We all had to go through it." she shook her head reassuringly, then cocked her head. "Where do you hail from, if I may ask?"
"I just travelled here from Ferelden." Lyra sobered some, as did Aveline. The woman paused, her voice dropped, and her brows came together.
"Maker. You stayed through the Blight, then." she said quietly, her posture tensing slightly. "I thought I recognized your accent. I'm from Ferelden, too, though Hawke probably filled you in on how we got here." she sat heavily next to Varric, the subject obviously hard for her. Lyra's brows came together.
"I only heard mention, but I am sorry for your loss." Lyra said softly, and Aveline met her eyes, pain suffusing her expression.
"Thank you... He was my husband."
Lyra closed her eyes, feeling the overwhelming weight of the thought of the Blight rest on her shoulders, more vulnerable in her drunken state. "I lost much to the Blight, as well."
"I am sorry to hear that," Aveline smiled sadly at her, the woman's eyes fierce, yet compassionate. "I am glad you made it here. We all need new beginnings, sometimes."
"I really appreciate that," Lyra said genuinely, an ounce of weight lifting from her shoulders. I needed to hear that.
Aveline nodded before turning to the dwarf next to her. She shot her hand through his defensive stance and snatched the tankard out of his arms, bringing it to her lips faster than he could keep up with. Varric yelled out as she downed the rest of his drink. She set the tankard down on the table loudly and ignored him, meeting Lyra's eyes again. "You'll do well here. We're all hurting. But damn it, we'll hurt together."
Lyra's chest tightened as her heart swelled, and she nodded to the kind woman, thankful for her welcoming words. With that Aveline stood from the table, still ignoring Varric's retorts, and her seat was quickly filled with another human's, this one male, and blond.
"Did Aveline cut you off, Varric?" he asked the grumbling dwarf with a chuckle, before Fenris sighed loudly from beside her.
"I hope you're not partaking," Fenris scowled drunkenly at the human. "At least Varric won't accidentally kill anyone if he loses control."
The human rolled his eyes and glared at him. "Hope you're having a great night too, Fenris. Surprised to see you here, did they really let slaves drink in Teventer?"
"Aye, the magisters were too busy cutting themselves up for demons to notice."
"At least they know how to have a better time than you," he filled his mug from the pitcher on the table. Lyra blinked at their exchange but stayed quiet, looking to Varric and meeting his drooping gaze.
"Ah, the family's all together now! Robin, may I introduce you to Blondie, coming in close second for Most Broody."
The human rolled his eyes and nodded to Lyra after drinking from his mug. "Lyra, was it? I'm Anders, this sorry lot's healer."
Lyra reached out and shook his hand, glancing at Fenris and wondering at his foul mood. "A pleasure, Anders. You sound like you're from Ferelden as well?"
"I am, been around here and there, though. Started travelling more since joining the Wardens."
Lyra's heart skipped a beat. What a coincidence. She struggled to remain impassive. "The Grey Wardens?"
Anders nodded, drinking from his mug again. "Aye. It's a long story, but I ended up here, hiding out from the damned Templars, figuring I'm doing more good healing people on my own."
Lyra nodded, understanding. Our stories are similar. "I must thank you for your service, then." he raised his eyes and met hers. She gave him a small smile. "And for your sacrifice."
He blinked and waived away her words, turning away, slightly bashful. "I, well, I'm no hero. Just have a shorter time limit for living, now."
Varric raised his arm, looking off to the distance and proclaiming in his scratchy voice, "Humble Warden, Servant of the people, rises from the ashes of oppression to serve Justice!"
"Oh please…" Fenris's scowl grew deeper while Anders elbowed the drunk dwarf to shut him up, and Lyra chuckled from the sight of these strange friends.
Isabela swayed over to their table, the Rivani's shirt unbuttoned even more than it usually is and her fingers lingering as she slid her hand along Lyra's back. Lyra blinked up at the drunken woman, holding a spilling tankard in one hand and rubbing the back of her shoulder with the other, smiling down at her flirtingly as she teetered.
"Little Robin, you are so pretty," she swayed, bumping into her so that Lyra had to reach out and help steady her. Isabela leaned down and kissed her forehead loudly, making Lyra blink with widened eyes. She chuckled and smiled uncertainly up at the woman.
"To be called pretty by a woman as beautiful as yourself, Isabela," Lyra glanced beside her and met the eyes of Fenris, silently asking for help. Fenris sighed and interjected, speaking clearly so the drunken woman could understand him.
"Isabela, Hawke is looking for you. You should go find him."
"Ha!" she leaned against Lyra heavily, and Lyra had to turn her head away to keep from looking too intimate, meeting the knowing gazes of Anders and Varric across the table with a confused smile. Isabela drank from her mug, spilling some. "He doesn't want me. He'll have to come and find me."
Lyra then saw Hawke across the bar, near the wall, who had also happened to look up in time. He blinked and made his way over to their table quickly, Isabela drinking more of her alcohol and Lyra struggling to hold her up.
"There you are," Fenris grumbled as their leader swooped in, armored and everything, slightly blushed from his own alcohol intake. He met Lyra's worried gaze and reached for Isabela, the woman busy downing the rest of her drink.
"Isabela, shall we go-" he started, but when she saw him she detached herself from Lyra and stumbled into his arms, kissing him aggressively. She clutched onto his chestplate and dragged him away impatiently, leaving the three men shaking their heads and Lyra bewildered.
"I, um," she tried, but Anders shook his head.
"Don't even worry about it, I try not to."
Varric sighed heavily, looking past to his friend. "Yeah, we don't really know what's up with their relationship either. Blondie's right, just don't think about it."
Lyra looked down and nursed her own drink, thoughtful. Fenris nudged her, and she looked over at him, meeting his soft greens.
"I've told them about Lord Balgruff, and about the hideout we found. Everyone's eager to go on missions with you, and see the archer who 'saved my ass'," he gave her a half-smile, and she chuckled.
"I'm afraid I'll disappoint when everyone realizes my whole thing is not being seen," she drank from her mug, and cocked her head. "I figure we should hit the hideout soon, since they must know we found them. But we'll definitely need backup," she mused.
"I agree; Hawke found out some information recently too, I know he'll want to hit it one of these nights."
Lyra nodded and blinked at herself, mentally reminding herself. I no longer am a leader, making the decisions. Hawke sounds to be a capable leader. I will follow him and help him with his work, and keep a low profile. She closed her eyes, feeling some relief. I am allowed to rest, now. From leadership. Her brows came together and she drank more, feeling anxious. I must not bring much attention to myself.
Just then the man himself returned to the bar, and carried a tray of shots over to the table. They all looked up and groaned, Hawke beaming them all with a smile.
"It is midnight shot time! The real party starts now!" he expelled waves of his energy, beckoning all of the companions still conscious enough to come round the table. He met everyone's eyes, and smiled at Lyra. "To our newest member, our newest friend Lyra. I drink to you!"
O
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"ALRIGHT, that's it, bar's closed, get out!"
The noise shot through her head like an arrow through her skull, and Lyra jolted up, banging her head on something hard above her.
"Agh!" OUCH. she shouted out, recoiling back on the sticky stone floor and blinking her eyes open with effort. It took her a few seconds to focus on what was above her, and she squinted in confusion, seeing only brown. Wood?
Oh my Gods it's a table. I'm under a table.
"Everyone up, if you're alive! Grab a body and take it with you on your way out!" the bartender shouted to her left, and she turned on the ground to see his boots march past the table she was under, as well as stirring bodies awaking on the floor and tables. She recognized a few; the redheaded dwarf rubbing his forehead as he sat up on the floor and leaned back against a table leg, the white-haired elf raising his head and blinking from where he sat on a bench slumped over on a table.
Lyra rubbed her eyes and felt her head pound in waves of pain that reverberated through her body, and she wiped her hands on her apron, not wanting to even think about what was on the floor she had passed out on.
"Fenris?" she croaked out, and watched him flinch from the noise, meeting her eyes with his reddened greens. He blinked at her, sitting up straighter, and he chuckled out painfully, shaking his head, his voice deeper and cracking.
"Lyra, you, are you alright under there?"
Lyra gave him a look and grumbled to herself as she crawled on her hands and knees, grabbing the table edge tightly and hauling herself up to her feet with more effort than she wanted to admit.
The bartender collected glasses and tankards loudly, and Lyra looked around at the Hanged Man to survey the damage. The bodies of her new companions lay strewn across the bar like a chaotic battle had taken place, and in the center of it all lay their fearless leader, sprawled on a table in his full armor and hugging an empty pitcher to his chest.
The bartender walked over to him with another pitcher, and dumped a couple gallons of water on the sleeping human, Hawke sputtering and jolting awake.
"Damn you, Hawke. You and your friends get the hell out of my bar."
The bearded human looked up and blinked at the bartender with his bright blues, dripping with water and armor askew, and his face broke into a grin.
"Corff, my friend! Good morning!" he said brightly, sitting up and rubbing the water from his eyes. The bartender sighed, annoyed, and angrily grabbed the pitcher still in Hawke's arms before stalking back behind the counter. Lyra watched everyone else stir awake finally, the moans and groans making up a chorus, as Hawke staggered over to the table Lyra was leaning heavily on. She looked up and met the kind eyes of the soaking wet man.
"What a night. You can take your alcohol, I'm impressed! I'll be happy if your rogue skills are half as good as your singing."
Lyra blinked up at him, memories flooding her mind like a tsunami, and her cheeks heated up from remembering.
Her, Anders, Hawke, and Aveline, arms around each other and swaying as they sang the Ferelden melody. They stood on a table as they performed for the rest of the bar, most of the people around them annoyed and yelling.
"Oh Gods, my head…"
Anders staggered over as well, hand on his forehead as well. "Every time. We do this every time. This hangover hurts more than my Joining."
Lyra sputtered and laughed, and quickly hid her face with her hand to hide how much she could relate. Same, Anders. I wish this hangover was only as bad as my Grey Warden Joining.
She glanced over to the stressed out Corff at the bar, then met Hawke's gaze, worried and feeling guilty. Hawke nodded knowingly, lowering his voice. "Aye, Corff deals with our party's mess more often than he should have to. We all take turns, staying after and cleaning up; doing the night's dishes, mopping…"
"-Taking out dead bodies," Anders added, poking an unknown man lying face down on the floor, his hands faintly glowing yellow with healing magic. "This one doesn't look too good."
Lyra nodded and gave Hawke a small smile, as Varric stumbled over.
"I'll take this time, Hawke." he patted Lyra's arm as he passed and she smiled down at him. She looked up, intending to offer her help as well, before Hawke met her eyes.
"Would you help Fenris home? Varric and I should be enough to help Corff."
She nodded and turned to walk over to where Fenris still sat heavily on the bench, but walking turned out to be a much harder challenge than she had anticipated.
She stumbled and caught herself, and slowly made her way over to her friend. He met her eyes, his squinting in pain, and he growled under his breath.
"I never learn…" he set his shoulders and made to stand, and Lyra helped him up from the bench. Arms around shoulders, they helped each other navigate around the furniture and people of the tavern, finally making it to the door leading out to the lowtown streets.
"Falon'Din take me," Lyra muttered, the light from outside stabbing her eyes. They rested for a second, neither mentally ready for the trip.
"Remind me to kill Hawke next time I see him," Fenris growled, and they began their trek, hunched shoulders, eyes squinting, heads pounding. Lyra's body felt more in pain than it had in awhile, and yet her mouth couldn't stop smiling.
These people. I might have a real home here.
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"Varric, please, kindly fuck off," Lyra pleaded, begging him with her eyes. She knew he had a weak spot for puppy eyes.
They stood on a hill outside of Kirkwall, the sun setting in the distance, the temperature dropping pleasantly with the sunset.
"Robin, Robin. You do not know the perseverance of a man with a story to tell," he said, but then he made the mistake of meeting her eyes. She watched him melt right in front of her, and he sighed heavily, hunching in defeat.
"Alright, fine, but one of these days, you owe Varric a story."
"I've told you so many!"
"Yes, sporadically, with none of the information of when or where these events happened! Did you fall in love before or after defeating that dragon? And are you absolutely sure you don't have a long lost tragic lover?"
Lyra chuckled, and hid how much that last question hurt.
"Nothing so dramatic, Varric, that's for writers like you to come up with." she met his eyes and smiled at him apologetically. "One of these days, Varric, I'll tell you everything. It's just…" she looked away. "...a lot."
Just then, Merrill jogged up the slope of the mountain path to them.
"The time is here, Hawke says to set the ambush," she said quietly, and the two rogues nodded and got to work. Varric and Lyra worked efficiently, both of their knowledges in traps and poisons combining to form a scary ambush, indeed. Lyra glanced up and met the other elf's eyes, feeling Merrill's gaze. She fidgeted.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare, I just, I never thought we would have another Dalish in our group, and I just have so many questions…" she faltered, averting her eyes. Lyra straightened up from the trap she was setting.
"Aneth ara, Merrill. Ir Lanyra."
Merrill blinked. "Lanyra? Lyra is a nickname?"
Lyra nodded, and chuckled. "I spent a few years with mostly shems. Lanyra turned to Lyra with time. I've let it stick."
"A few years? I've been away from my clan for a few months. I can't fathom some of the things I see people do," she wrung her hands. Lyra nodded, smiling.
"I miss clan life often. I've never grown used to the city."
"I haven't either. Do you live in the alienage as well?"
Lyra nodded. "Yes, I just rented a room. It is good to know another neighbor."
"Ah, yes…" Merrill looked away, her hands wringing themselves again. "Fenris does live there as well, but he, I, he doesn't, we're not close," she stammered out. Lyra's brows came together.
He really has an aversion to mages. Even sweet ones, like her.
"Would you like to cook some Dalish dishes with me sometime? We could gather fresh ingredients out here, on our way back, if Hawke's not in a hurry," Lyra asked, and Merrill's eyes brightened considerably.
"I would love that! Thank you!"
"Of course," Lyra chuckled, and Varric piped up from down where he was setting a trap.
"Mind if an old dwarf could join, Daisy? I love the Hanged Man with all my heart, but one can only take so much of that food before it just gets sad."
"Oh, yes Varric! I've wanted everyone to try my favorite…"
Merrill rambled on happily, and after a few minutes of finishing their ambush, their human warrior leader lumbered over to them from farther up the path. He was breathing heavily, having run ahead to bait the bandits into running after him. Lyra looked up and met his stark blue eyes, alive from adrenaline, his bearded face breaking into a grin.
"They're almost here! Let's trap some bandits."
Lyra chuckled to herself as she raised her hood over her ears, unsheathing her bow and slipping quietly into some bushes, disappearing into the shadows.
O
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Fenris stirred in his bed, blinking his eyes open wondering what time it was. Hawke had us up late last night. None of us have a real sleep schedule anymore.
Though when he thought about it, it didn't really bother him. Hawke never pushed them too hard for too long, and Fenris knew he would never force or pressure anyone to help him if they were needed rest.
Fenris sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck and peering out the window, seeing it to be late afternoon, nearly evening. I slept long.
His stomach grumbled, and he frowned at the thought of his empty pantry. Food prices are spiking, just like everything else in this damned city.
He rose regardless, guessing he'll just end up at the Hanged Man again and pilfer stray food there. Unless…
He glanced at the wall to his right absently; the wall he shared with his new neighbor. She was on the mission last night with me. Has she awoken?
He threw on a ragged shirt and left his apartment without shoes, figuring he'd just check her place real quick. He opened his door, expecting the foul stench of lowtown; the smell of the poor, of waste and fear. Like usual. But instead he was met with a warm wave of food, cooking spiced meat and herbs like he'd never smelled before.
He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the waning light, and beheld the sight of a long line of children stretched from the stairs leading down to the alienage, all the way to the giant tree that was the center. And at the front of the line, under the painted oak's leaves, was his redhead neighbor, wearing her apron but without her makeup, stirring the largest pot he'd ever seen. A cauldron would be a more appropriate term.
The sound of chittering children filled the air, as a dozen or so dirty little elflings waited in the line impatiently, each holding a bowl of whatever size they could find.
Fenris walked a few feet out of his home, blinking at the sight, and watched Lyra bend down and take the bowl the child was handing her. She stuck her hand down into the giant pot and scooped a portion of the food, looking to be a simple meat and vegetable stew, and handed it carefully to the trembling elven boy.
She knelt down to the child's level and said something softly to him that Fenris couldn't hear, before also handing the boy a rag. The boy nodded to her and tottered away with his bowl, sitting down on the cobblestone a ways off with a few other children his age, each looking as ragged and dirty as he did. Watching the children eat made Fenris's heart clench; they scarfed down the food like it was their first meal in days. It could very well be, their first meal in days.
He walked slowly towards his neighbor, unused to the amount of public traffic that had befallen the alienage. She sensed his approach and paused in her work, meeting his eyes and giving him a smile.
"Where did you get all this?" he asked her softly, and she nodded before reaching down and taking another bowl.
"I went hunting." she handed the elfling the bowl of soup and knelt down again, meeting the scared child's eyes and speaking in a gentle voice. "Will you help me, young one? Will you gather as much trash as you can hold, and throw it down the chute?"
The child nodded with big eyes, and she smiled at him softly, her voice kind. "Eat, first."
The boy nodded again and went to join his friends, energy in his little steps. Fenris looked at Lyra.
"How far into the mountains did you have to go to find deer?"
"Not too far. I left some larger traps a while ago, while I was on a mission with Merrill and Varric." she continued in her work, handing out bowls of soup, and asking small favors of the older children. "The vegetables are scattered, but I found a few wild patches on my way to the traps. The pot…" she gave Fenris a half smile and lowered her voice. "Well, I stole the pot."
Merrill walked over to them, jotting something down on a small list she was holding. "...and we need someone to empty the gutters, and another to clear out those wasp nests. Lyra I think I have some more-"
Merrill stopped short when she saw Fenris, and she averted her gaze quickly. Lyra picked up the conversation smoothly.
"Thank you, Merrill. I've given the little tasks you gave me to some of the children; they seem to be working hard," she gestured around the alienage, one child scrubbing a lamppost, another taking an armful of trash to the garbage shoot. Merrill recovered, nodding nervously.
"I'm glad to hear. Your stew smells delicious, by the way. I recognize some of the herbs and spices; it's good to smell Dalish again."
They stood in a silence as Lyra continued handing out soup, the line of children almost done. Fenris cleared his throat, looking to the two elven women beside him.
"This… I haven't seen anything like this before, here. You both are doing good work."
Lyra met his eyes with her soft blue-greens, smiling at him and nodding, and Merrill met his gaze as well, her tense shoulders lowering an inch.
"Thank you, Fenris. Would you… would you like to help?"
He looked at her for a moment, thinking, and then nodding. "Yes. I will help."