A/N: Thank you for reading.
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"You've got to be kidding me," Dorian muttered as he stared out over the 'grand' city of Denerim. This lot would have a heart attack if they saw Minrathous, with its historical buildings and gilded halls, statues of old gods and Andraste alike towering along the streets, watching the world in judgmental silence.
Well, the dog statues did seem…a bit judgmental if not ungodly repetitive.
He'd heard over and over how Ferelden loved their mangy beasts, and yet, even with wandering through the countryside, he hadn't expected quite so many of them in the capital.
Andraste's flaming tits, but he was fairly certain half of the city's population was canine.
And then the buildings seemed to want to make up for there not being enough of the mongrels wandering the streets by having at least one carved into every single one.
Maker's balls, but it was…
"Their doorways are a bit small, aren't they?"
Dorian jolted at the sound in his ear and turned to see the Iron Bull leaning down just behind him, grin lighting up his face as soon as their gazes met.
With a scowl, Dorian turned away from their vantage point. The trip to Denerim had been a quick one, fortunately, though it had hardly felt like it at the time. With each thud of a hoof, Dorian's mind whirred with what his countrymen might be doing in the capital.
Were they looking to start an outright war with the south?
Because if they successfully hurt Ferelden, it felt like something like that would happen.
Assuming, of course, Orlais didn't take a break from its civil war to just sweep out and retake Ferelden while it sunk into chaos. That would be done in the name of keeping the south stable, of course.
This whole thing was such a mess.
More so, considering the Iron Bull's latest brilliant idea.
"I'm not putting that on."
The Iron Bull was holding out the source of Dorian's earlier incredulity: a Venatori robe.
The damned cultists seemed to spawn from the shadows themselves, especially the closer to the castle they got.
And then, when a few castle guards had assisted the Venatori rather than Dorian and his heroic companions in arms, they'd reconsidered just walking up and presenting themselves as Inquisition members to the gate, because something was definitely amiss.
"The king isn't going to welcome a rogue Vint, even if the worst case is true, and he's working with the Venatori. We're going to need to sneak in. If you want to be useful, you'll put it on."
The Iron Bull was getting on Dorian's last nerve.
"And how do you plan to sneak past everyone? Going to play someone's pet?"
"I prefer to hold the leash, if we're being honest." The Iron Bull's grin was back full force. "And at this point, everyone worth their salt has heard about the Qunari in the Inquisition. I might as well make an appearance."
Dorian's lips moved, though no sound came out, and finally, without thinking, he grabbed the robe between them so that he could step closer and grip The Iron Bull's hand as well. "Are you telling me you plan to just walk up to the gates?"
"That's the plan."
"Then what in the Void will I be doing with this?" Dorian whispered as harshly as he could without raising his voice.
"You'll be sneaking in to find out how many Venatori are here." The Iron Bull paused before adding, "And who they're working with and what they're planning. It should be easy enough for such a skilled altus."
"So earlier when you said 'we' you meant 'me'."
"I was under the impression you liked when everything was about you."
"I'll be going with you," Krem said as he stepped up, carefully appraising a set of heavier Venatori armor with a frown that said he was less than pleased with the plan as well.
The closer they'd gotten to the castle, the more careful they'd been, especially after the incident with the Denerim guards. They'd managed to avoid most conflict after that, only for Skinner and Grim to reappear—Dorian didn't even know when they'd left the main group—with clothes. One set of armor and one set of robes.
Rolling his eyes, Dorian looked down at the robes and took in a measured breath. "Look. I'm not saying subterfuge isn't necessary, but I don't know their passwords or their special handshakes or anything like that."
"You've got the accent, though," Dalish pointed out. As he slowly turned to glare at her, she shrugged from her perch with Rocky and Skinner. "How many Vints are this far south?"
"In that, they will assume you are just too stupid to remember the code," Skinner added, swinging her feet slowly against the crates they were perched atop. Either her heels stopped short of the wood, or she somehow thudded them silently.
As Dorian set his jaw and looked back at the Iron Bull and Krem, the latter motioned to himself. From what he could see of the armor set, there wasn't a lot actually to it. "At least you're not going to freeze to death if we get lost."
Shoulders slumping, Dorian stared down at the robes.
He'd come here to help, but…
Dressing as the Venatori hardly felt like it was going to help. If anything, he'd get a sword through him.
However, the longer he delayed, the more time the Venatori had to set their plan into action. If he could stop his countrymen from doing whatever it was they were planning, then it would be worth it.
With a pointed look of displeasure directed at The Iron Bull, he stood a little straighter as he pivoted away to find a private nook to change in.
When he came back out, however, dressed from head to toe in Venatori garb, he found that the whole lot of them were grinning like asses.
"Told you we could get him to do it." The Iron Bull's grin made him want to set the qunari on fire.
Instead, Dorian stood up a bit straighter as the hectic-ness of the last few days settled.
Of course the Venatori wouldn't be wearing this sort of thing in the castle itself, they would want to blend in until whatever attack they were planning could be executed. Waltzing in in Venatori robes would just draw unwanted attention and all but prove that they were spies.
With an eye roll toward the heavens and a heaved sigh, Dorian turned on his heels and headed back to change into his proper attire.
…-…
He wanted to scream as Skinner's words echoed in his mind.
This was too…easy.
He would have assumed that any group willing to follow a damned darkspawn had to be out of its mind, and that their insanity would come with paranoia.
However, the few people they did encounter who had Tevinter accents all seemed to accept them based on accent alone. They were all non-mages so far. Underlings who stood straighter when they recognized Dorian as a mage.
Underlings who didn't know anything, but fretted that 'something was wrong'.
One had asked him to fix the illusory spells and he'd promised to get right on that, but hadn't been able to figure out what they were talking about and knew that asking would make him seem suspicious.
What really baffled him, though, was that they were all so clearly Tevinter, and yet they seemed so well integrated with the castle.
Maker, but sometimes, when they spoke, their accents seemed to just disappear. They all seemed more chatty then, only to grow panicky and quiet when their accents started to push through.
He'd been puzzled further when he and Krem had slipped up to a corner and listened to one of the Venatori speaking with a maid. The woman seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he didn't fit in. She was so painfully clearly Ferelden, yet Dorian could swear that he heard a hint of the Tevene accent in her voice, as well.
It made no sense.
Even as Krem openly wondered about whether magic might be involved, Dorian glanced over his shoulder down a side hall and noticed two figures picking away at a wall. As he recognized their slight forms to be that of elves, there was a pop of magic and both ducked down as though dodging some sort of backlash.
And then the maid let out an odd laugh.
"Why are you talking like that now?"
"Like what?"
"That accent…stop it. It sounds…"
"Just thought I'd mess around." The accent was a horrible attempt at Ferelden.
The maid crossed her arms, frowning at him. "Look, I've had enough of this silliness. I—who are you?"
The venatori flinched at the question, hand reaching back for a dagger tucked into his belt.
"Shit," Krem hissed.
He was around the corner before Dorian could stop him, catching the Venatori member off guard and telling the maid to run. She stood there in silent shock for a moment before doing as he said and bolting.
Dorian had hoped to get more—any, really—information before revealing themselves, but he supposed his companion's chivalry was admirable.
They'd made quick work of the man they'd revealed themselves to, but before his body had even hit the floor, there was a shriek from down the hall. As Dorian let his last spell leave his fingertips, he shot a look over his shoulder and grimaced.
The maid fell before another blade, and another two warriors were already charging past her, heading toward Krem and Dorian.
Krem let out a soft curse before bracing himself rather than charging off again.
Dorian would have been happy to help with those two, if not for the other three coming on their heels, two rogues and a mage.
Of course there was a mage.
And all of their accents spoke to their being Venatori.
How many of these bastards had made it into the castle?
He didn't have time for such musings as both rogues decided to go after him, the mage joining the numbers against Krem.
Dorian tried to object, tried to say that they were on the same side—a pitiful ruse, but he'd hoped their accents might help them find out what the overall plan was before everything fell apart—but having already downed one of their enemy, the others were in no mood to listen.
He and Krem had managed to get back to back to help a little, but even as he wondered how strong a spell he could use without drawing anymore unwanted attention, an arrow flew over his shoulder, striking the mage in front of Krem square in the face.
He heard a familiar cry and both he and Krem went on the offensive.
The battle was a blur, over so quickly that Dorian found himself whirling around, looking for his next target only to let out a sharp hiss as a staff slammed into his stomach.
As he hit the ground, two things happened. First, Krem moved to cover him, though he didn't charge. Secondly, he heard Sera's voice snap, "I already told you. Not that one."
There were a few more words snapped back and forth, but when it became clear that they weren't in immediate danger, Krem eased his stance and turned to help Dorian up. With a nod of thanks, Dorian peered past him.
An older elven mage was arguing with Sera, hissing as he parroted what Dorian had said earlier.
So these were the two who had messed with the wall.
"We were trying to infiltrate their ranks," Krem said, stepping forward and offering a hand. "We're Inquisition."
"Told you." Sera crossed her arms pointedly, glaring at the other elf and eyeing him warily.
The older elf leaned against his staff as though his back were aching from all the fighting, though the feeble old man look didn't fool Dorian for an instant. Turning his attention to Sera, he motioned around them. "Do you know where Finley is? She's likely in danger."
"Meeting with the noble prats." Sera spat to the side, frowning. "There's something up, though. Venatori. They got these weird symbols on the walls—"
"It's a spell to mask their accents so they sound Ferelden to whoever hears them."
Krem considered it and nodded. "Well, that would make it easier to do whatever they're planning. An attack of some sort. Don't suppose you heard anything about that?"
"Well, no news on that, but we been getting rid of their spells and stuff," Sera muttered.
"They've caught on that someone's sabotaging them, though," the other elf said. He straightened up a little, with surprising effort. "We've had to skip a few of their spells, just to avoid being caught. If they are planning something though, I'd wager they'll set it in motion soon, seeing as their cover is unraveling."
"We need to get word to Finley. And the chief."
"I would think we would want to know what's actually going on, first." With a hand on hip, Dorian rolled his eyes toward Krem, frown more pronounced by his moustache.
"Vint's got a point." As Sera spoke, she rummaged through the different Venatori's pockets, pulling out every paper she found. "Shite. These buggers don't got a thing. Can't ever be easy, can it?"
The bodies in the hallway were going to draw attention sooner than later, and so at the older elf's behest, they slipped into a room off the hall to talk. Just as they began to debate how to go through with their plans, Dorian realized that they were one short.
Looking around and daring to peer into the nearest door, he turned back to the others. "Where'd that older elf go?"
A cry rang out from down the hall before Sera or Krem could respond from down the hall, though it was—surprisingly enough—not because of the bodies strewn about.
In no time, the words were echoing through the halls, and Dorian cursed quietly under his breath.
They'd wanted to put a stop to whatever was going to happen, but they were too late.
The clank of metal echoed through the halls just before another sharp cry.
"The castle's under attack!"
Perfect.