2nd A/N: Apologies to anyone who gets double notified on this chapter - I made a couple of errors that I didn't notice before I posted, so I had to correct them and repost the chapter. Everything else is the same though, so you don't need to worry that you're missing anything if you've already read it! A real new chapter should be up next week!
A/N: New chapter for everyone, a week later than I meant it but it's a nice long one again, so hopefully that makes up for it! It appears that most of the chapters in this sequel are going to be a lot longer in order for me to end them where I want. Anyway, this one is a split POV, starts out with Mardin and ends up with Brianna. Hope everybody enjoys, and thanks as always for the favorites and follows!
Extra special thanks go to my awesome reviewers, WolFang1011, ArtanisRose, Tactus501st, Candle in the Night, Asilyessam and Lethal Dragon. Hearing from you guys totally makes my day!
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Chapter 6: Don't Be Afraid
It had been a couple of weeks now since the job with Sister Petrice, and a surprisingly quiet couple of weeks at that. They had still performed a few jobs, but they were standard fare; escorts or deliveries, and nothing unusual or complicated. Mardin was beginning to grow restless, and he could tell that Brianna was too; there were only a few weeks left until the expedition was due to leave, and he knew that she still didn't have the full amount of money she needed. The jobs they'd taken recently hadn't paid much; at least, not enough beyond what she had to give him and the others and keep for the care of her family. And though he'd tried to wave his share off a couple of times, as Varric did, she hadn't let him. He hoped that something larger came up soon; both for her sake and his own.
He preferred challenging fights, for starters, and he'd barely had to unsheathe his sword the last couple of times they'd gone out. Besides that, he wanted an opportunity to use his shifter abilities in front of Brianna and the others; an opportunity where they couldn't deny the usefulness of his abilities, in case they were reluctant to accept them. But that would require a battle beyond the capabilities of his sword arm or their party's combined strength, and nothing like that had occurred in the last couple of weeks. He was beginning to wonder if he might not just have to go ahead and show her anyway, as much as he was reluctant to do so.
The other factor contributing to his restlessness was how badly he wanted her. Ever since the night he'd walked her home, and he'd seen how truly determined she was not to simply give in to temptation, he'd decided to back off. She was apparently determined that they get to know one another better first before she allowed him to bed her, though he wasn't sure if there was a certain required length of time they had to know one another or a list of things they needed to know about each other before it occurred. Either way, it was obviously important to her, and so he'd promised himself he would let her make the next move, whenever she happened to be ready, even if it was killing him in the meantime.
Which it was; especially difficult had been the morning she'd come across him naked. As flustered as she'd been, she'd also been aroused; he'd smelled it on her, and it had been incredibly intoxicating. He'd ached to get closer to that smell, to find out if the taste of it was as heady as the scent, but he'd kept himself under control, as difficult as it had been. He knew he could have seduced her at that point with little difficulty, but he'd also known she would have regretted it afterwards, and likely would never have let him near her again. And he knew he wanted more than one night with her; it would take him several nights, possibly even a few months, to sate his desire for her.
Therefore, he knew he had to let her come to him; she knew what he wanted, he'd made it clear enough. She just had to accept what she wanted, and he hoped that would occur soon. He'd even given her bits of information about himself he would rather not ever have revealed; about his father, his father's death, and his thirst for revenge, in the hopes it would create more trust between them. But, after talking to Anders and realizing she'd known all along he was lying to her about where he was from, he wondered if she wasn't waiting until he finally confessed the truth to her. She had yet to ask him directly about it, or press him for more information; he was grateful for it, but at the same time, he fervently wished for something to come along and break them of this holding pattern they were both in, free them of this waiting and tension.
He hoped that something would occur soon; he was beginning to grow bored, as well as restless. Over the past couple of weeks, he'd tried to occupy his time as much as possible; first, he'd written a letter to Ayla, and with Varric's help, had gotten it onto a ship bound for Ferelden and Vigil's Keep, where Anders had said she and her mate lived along with the other Wardens. Varric had warned him, however, that it would take a few weeks for his letter to reach the Keep, and a few weeks for her reply to return. And that, of course, was assuming that Ayla was even at the Keep when the letter arrived; Anders had said it was equally likely she'd be out on a mission, and might not return for some time. He hoped she'd be there, or at least would return soon, and could come to Kirkwall at some point as he'd asked her in the letter. He badly wanted to see her with his own eyes and know for certain that she was safe and happy.
Once the letter had been sent, he'd moved to cleaning up the mansion. Fenris had balked at first, for a couple of reasons, Mardin suspected. One, he was pretty sure Fenris had thought he'd been telling him to do the cleaning. Once he'd told Fenris he was doing the cleaning, with or without help because he couldn't stand the smell, the elf had seemed to relax. The other reason was that Fenris hadn't wanted anyone to know that the mansion was occupied, so Mardin had told him they would leave the outside as dirty and unkempt as he wanted, but the inside was not negotiable. In the end, the elf had conceded and they'd gotten the mansion respectably clean within a few days.
Following that, Mardin had moved on to training and sparring, along with Fenris and Carver, using the great hall of the mansion, which had plenty of space for them to fight in. Though both were skilled and talented, Mardin had noticed fairly quickly that neither of them had much training in the basics. He'd picked out an elbow too high here, a move too telegraphed there, a side-step too slow there, that sort of thing, and had offered training along with the sparring sessions.
Again, Fenris had balked at first, apparently too proud to accept the fact that he might need a little help. After the third time Mardin had knocked him flat in their sparring sessions, though, the elf had grudgingly conceded that "some instruction would not be amiss" and they'd begun the training as well. Carver had overheard them discussing one of their training sessions a couple of days later, and to Mardin's surprise, had asked to be included. It had become a daily thing after that; Mardin relentlessly drilling them the same way his father had drilled him since he was eight years old, learning to protect his sister. In between the training had been sparring sessions; sometimes Fenris and Carver would spar while Mardin watched for mistakes, but just as often he would spar with one or both of them as well. They were learning quickly, though; the bouts were becoming lengthier and coming to a draw as often as not. Soon it would likely end up just being the sparring sessions, though Mardin was hoping they wouldn't have quite so much free time on their hands in the future.
Brianna, he'd discovered, had taken their sudden free time to train with Anders and improve her healing skills. He suspected it had stemmed from the incident at the mines when she'd been unable to heal his wounds without the help of healing potions, and tried to squash the tiny part of him that wanted to reflect on how worried about him she'd been. As often as not, they ended their days of respective training at the Hanged Man with Varric, learning the card games of Wicked Grace and Diamondback while downing a few ales. Merrill, the young elven girl they'd met on Sundermount, often joined in as well; both Varric and Brianna seemed to have taken it upon themselves to look after her. It was amusing to watch Carver stumble his way through trying to compliment her or flirt with her, and equally amusing to watch most of what he'd said go right over the naive young mage's head. It made Mardin curious about how such things worked here, though; did it always take this long in this world for people to bed one another, or to even admit that was what they wanted?
Personally, he hadn't gone this long without a woman since his first time when he was fresh out of training, and it was beginning to wear on him. He was used to controlling his temper and his animal half; he was just now realizing that he'd never really practiced any restraint when it came to his lust. He'd begun to consider the fact that he should perhaps find himself another willing woman until Brianna finally made up her mind; surely there had to be some women in Kirkwall who enjoyed casual mating. He'd discovered from Carver that there was a place called the Blooming Rose where most people in Kirkwall went when they wished casual mating, but they apparently paid for the experience, which was a foreign concept to him, and not one he was sure he wanted to explore. He failed to see how it was better to pay for mating with someone who was not the person you'd originally desired, rather than simply enjoying the company of the one you wanted in the first place, though he knew Carver had gone a couple of times to try to relieve his feelings about Merrill; unsuccessfully, he suspected.
However, he was sure there had to be some other women around Kirkwall who weren't quite so restrained when it came to mating; he'd caught more than a few women giving him lustful glances when they'd walked through the city, and he was fairly certain that at least some of them would be willing. He'd found some of the women attractive enough, but for some reason, he had not found them nearly as tempting as Brianna. And none of them carried that delicious scent of vanilla and citrus, or the even headier scent of arousal that she had. Besides, he'd never given up on a challenge; he wasn't about to start now, he reasoned with himself. He could wait a bit longer; surely she had to come to her senses soon. And maybe a job would come along soon where he could reveal to her who he truly was.
Perhaps it would even be today, he thought as he stumbled out of his room in search of food. He and Fenris didn't tend to keep a lot of food in their poorly stocked kitchen, usually eating at the Hanged Man, but there was always at least some bread and cheese or dried meat. He was wearing his leggings as he made his way into the kitchen, having discovered a few days ago that Brianna wasn't the only one who became rattled by his nudity when he came across Fenris eating breakfast one morning. He'd never seen the stoic elf quite so flustered and embarrassed before, making him realize another difference in this world; apparently people here did not share a shifter's penchant for sleeping in the nude when safely indoors.
He wasn't quite sure what the root cause of it was, but as a general rule, all shifters felt more comfortable wearing as little as possible when sleeping. This was obviously impractical when one was travelling, as there were many dangers to be faced out in the wild, often leaving the members of the Order with little choice but to wear clothing and armor while out on missions. When at the barracks or otherwise safely indoors, however, they wore as little as possible overnight, and had often come across one another nude or nearly so; it was a common occurrence and one they were all quite comfortable with. This was obviously not the case in Thedas, though, and so Mardin had made the concession of at least putting on leggings before he left his room, so as not to make Fenris or anyone else who might come in unannounced uncomfortable. As much, he thought wryly, as he'd enjoyed Brianna's reaction and would like to repeat the experience, it was probably unfair to her.
He was partway through his meal, washing down the slightly stale bread with a mug of water, when Brianna walked in the room as if his thoughts had summoned her. Her gaze snapped almost immediately to his bare chest, and he realized even that much was enough to fluster her as she flushed pink; her gaze skimmed quickly downwards, and he noted with amusement that she seemed both relieved and disappointed to find that he was wearing leggings. A whiff of that heady arousal drifted past his nose again, and he gripped his mug tighter, trying to quell his body's reaction to the scent.
She looked quickly back up at his face. "Fenris said you'd probably still be eating breakfast."
"Well, we don't all get up at the crack of dawn like the two of you," he returned mildly. "Is there a job today?"
"Actually, I think there might be. I was heading through Lowtown this morning when I spotted a poster; it seems the Viscount's son has gone missing, and they're offering a bounty for whoever finds him. I thought I'd come by and see if you and Fenris would help; Fenris has already agreed, and Carver and Varric are waiting outside. We'll have to go to the Viscount's Keep first, and find out the details, but I think this will at least pay better than that last escort job," she finished, rolling her eyes.
Mardin grinned. "Well, one would certainly hope so. But of course I'll help; just give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll meet you by the front door." He stuffed a large bite of bread in his mouth, trying to finish his meal quickly, and she nodded, calling over her shoulder as she went to leave the kitchen, "Make sure to wear your new armor."
He grunted his assent around his mouthful of food, trying to refrain from rolling his eyes; after the incident with the dragon had effectively destroyed his chainmail and tunic, she'd insisted that he buy new armor. They'd argued over it, as he flatly refused to wear plate armor, splintmail or even heavier types of chainmail, but eventually they'd found a suit of hardened drake scales, dyed black, as well as a light overshirt of silver chainmail woven with blue threads that he'd agreed to wear. The sky blue of it reminded him a bit of his Order tunic, and the drake scales were surprisingly tough, and more importantly, he could still shift in it; he'd tried it once, briefly, when he'd been alone in the mansion. His father had always insisted that heavy armor would impede shifting, and so he'd never worn any, but it appeared that drake scales were of no more impediment than fur or clothing. He'd even purchased a few more common articles of clothing along with the outfit, leather leggings and plain tunics, but as often as not he wore the drake-scale armor now any time he left the mansion.
So as soon as he'd hastily downed his breakfast, he retreated to his room and donned the armor along with his sword and shield, which he rarely left the mansion without either, and he never left without at least a couple of daggers on his person. Once he was ready, he met Brianna and Fenris by the front door, and they met up with Carver and Varric outside, several feet from the door, as they made their way to the Viscount's Keep.
Mardin had yet to be in the Viscount's Keep, though he knew that another of Brianna's friends, a woman named Aveline, lived there in the barracks with the guards. He had yet to meet her either, as she was apparently too busy taking over the guards as their new captain to attend any of their card games at the Hanged Man. Brianna led them through the large black double doors that marked the front of the Keep, nodding at the guards as they passed, and into the grey-tiled entry hall, two massive pillars holding up the weight of the roof above. Stairs were before them, carpeted in red, leading up to the second level in a split fashion. The Keep was surprisingly crowded, even this early in the day; numerous people were moving around inside, some clearly nobles dressed in fine silks or velvets, others more common people in cotton or leather outfits. The city guards in their orange-tinted plate armor were stationed at the bottom of the stairs and by the door, keeping a close eye on everyone who went by.
Brianna weaved her way through the crowd of people, and they followed her up the stairs to the first balcony, where a long carpeted hallway led straight ahead. Mardin could see the barracks off to the right, many more of the heavily-armored guards going in and out, as well as several doors that likely led to other offices. Brianna, however, turned to the left, where another set of stairs went up to two much larger doors, an ornate golden statue sitting at the top. As they came up the stairs, Mardin made out a man's voice saying in chilly, cultured tones, "Insist if you must, but Viscount Dumar will see no one! If you've news of Saemus, I will relay it to him."
When they reached the top of the stairs and stopped, Mardin could see that it was an older man who'd spoken, with red hair in a similar shade as his own, wearing a fine reddish-brown tunic trimmed with gold and grey breeches. Everything about him said haughty nobleman as he faced off against a hard-faced woman with short brown hair, dressed in leathers and sporting two wicked-looking daggers on her back. His instincts went off in alarm as soon as he saw the woman; he itched to reach for his sword.
"Fine," the woman snapped at the older man, tossing her head. "Tell Dumar my scouts have tracked the boy and his Qunari captor to the Wounded Coast. I'm taking a full company after them, and when I return, I expect him to make a show of the reward."
The man frowned at her. "So many to deal with one Qunari seems . . . excessive."
"He may be Tal-Vashoth. The Winters leave nothing to chance." Not waiting for an answer, the woman turned and stormed away, shoving her way roughly past Brianna and Carver, who'd been standing in the middle, snarling, "Get out of my bloody way!"
It took everything in Mardin not to attack her then and there; it was only the feeling that killing someone in the Viscount's Keep would be frowned upon and get them in more trouble than not that stopped him. Back home, at Fallor Castle, no one would have contested him had he said his instincts told him she was too dangerous to let live; the King and his Knights of the Fox, shifters themselves, would have felt it as well as he had. Here, however, he knew that wouldn't be an acceptable reason, so he clenched his hands into fists so tightly his knuckles went white and allowed her to pass. In the meantime, Brianna, without so much as a glance backward at the woman, had approached the man she'd just been speaking to.
"Yes, what is it?" the man asked her with a heavy sigh.
"Well, it seems I'm not the only one who saw the bounty posting," Brianna said easily, not reacting to the way the man was studying her.
"Apparently so, and I am regretting it," the man returned coolly as he crossed his arms. "I am Seneschal Bran, and as I told the others, Viscount Dumar's son, Saemus, is missing. We suspect he was taken by a Qunari. If you would like to try your hand at securing his safe return, feel free. I have certainly granted no exclusivity to the Winters and their violent approach." He shook his head as he waved his hand in the direction the other woman had gone.
"There must be suspicions about why the boy went missing," Brianna offered carefully.
"Why?" the Seneschal demanded. "What have you heard?"
"Nothing," Brianna replied, "until now, that is."
Seneschal Bran scowled at her, and Mardin stepped up to Brianna's left side, not liking the look on the older man's face as he retorted, "There is truly nothing known. He is gone, and there have been sightings of a Qunari. The only complication is that Saemus is known to be . . . of a sympathetic mind. He may have placed himself in danger, but it is danger nonetheless."
Which meant, Mardin thought, that the boy had run away with one of the Qunari, by the sounds of it. He could see why the Viscount didn't want people to know that, however, with the tensions in the city about the Arishok and the Qunari; it would look bad if the leader's son was sympathetic towards a group so many in Kirkwall viewed as an enemy.
Brianna was frowning thoughtfully, as if weighing what to do next, and she turned to Mardin, raising her eyebrows in silent question, as if to ask what he thought. He frowned, and jerked his head in the direction the woman from the Winters had gone. Taking the cue, Brianna turned back to the Seneschal. "What can you tell me about our competition?"
Bran put his hand to his forehead for a moment, shaking his head in clear exasperation, before he finally answered, "The Winters, out of Nevarra. They don't care one whit if Saemus is returned unharmed. Their lead, Serah Ginnis," he said with sarcastic emphasis, "is hungry for a foothold in fair Kirkwall. And frankly, we have enough of their kind."
Mardin saw Brianna faintly bristle, as if she suspected the comment was directed at them, but she merely said, "Ready the reward, he'll be back in no time. And in one piece."
The Seneschal shrugged. "Declare it if you like, but the reward goes to whomever brings him back safe. A discussion you are welcome to have with the Winters, should you encounter them." Bran raised his eyebrows as he said precisely, "On the Wounded Coast."
Brianna simply nodded before she turned and headed back down the stairs, Mardin and the others following. When they were outside the Keep again, Mardin said mildly, "It sounds as though he wouldn't mind if we accidentally got rid of our competition along the way."
"It does seem that way," Brianna agreed. "And judging by the way that Ginnis woman acted, we probably will have to, if we want the reward for ourselves."
"We should take caution," Fenris warned. "A full company of mercenaries would outnumber us more than four-to-one."
Varric nodded. "I'm with Broody. As good of a story as it would make, we should hightail it out to the Coast and see if we can't beat the Winters there."
"And if we don't, let's just hope it's worth the reward," Carver added, though Mardin noted he looked a bit excited at the thought of testing his skills against such odds.
For his own part, Mardin couldn't help but think this was exactly the sort of opportunity he'd been waiting for, if they did end up fighting this company. Indeed, it was the whole reason Fallor had so many shifters in the first place, to even their odds when fighting against the larger armies of countries bigger than their own. And in the opinion of many, Mardin included, the shifters were the only reason Fallor was still an independent country. Besides the fact that their shifted states made them better able to fight against otherwise overwhelming odds, it also had the often added benefit of instilling terror in their enemies, causing chaos and even desertion among the ranks. Yes, if they had to fight the Winters, this would be the perfect opportunity for Mardin to show his companions his true self, he decided.
It took a few hours of searching along the Wounded Coast before they finally found the right spot, and by the time they arrived at the rocky, secluded little peninsula jutting out into the water, it was too late. Ginnis was already there when they emerged from the rocky cliff walls into the sandy, open area of the peninsula, standing above the bloodied body of a Qunari, her daggers dripping blood onto the ground below. A young man with black hair, in a silken outfit of green and gold, that Mardin assumed must be Saemus, was slumped on his knees next to the Qunari, tears streaming down his face. There were four other men in leather armor ranged in the open area beyond. Brianna held up her hand, halting them all several feet away from the Qunari's body.
"And the world's rid of one more Qunari. Easier than I expected," Ginnis sneered, before she called to the other men over her shoulder, "Call the men back. We've got an appointment with the Viscount. Isn't that right, Saemus?"
Saemus looked up at her, his eyes burning with grief and rage. "Ashaad . . . you killed him. You . . . you vashedan bitch!" He spat out as he stumbled to his feet.
"That one of their words?" the mercenary asked mockingly as she twirled one of her daggers. "See, that's why you need to be dragged home. You're playing too nice with those things. I'll wager you've gone even further than that. Haven't you, brat?"
Brianna, apparently deciding it was time to intervene, stepped forward a few more feet, and Mardin stayed close to her side, hand already on his sword hilt, as did the others. "A little rough for a rescue, don't you think?" Brianna demanded coldly.
Ginnis turned to them, her eyes narrowing. "Competition? Well, you're too late. The Winters . . . I have already claimed him."
Saemus, however, turned to Brianna with something akin to relief breaking through on his face. "Serah! If I must go back, so be it, but I will not see these . . . murderers rewarded!"
"Spoiled shit!" Ginnis snarled. "I'll cut out your tongue and charge extra for bringing you back quiet!" Saemus flinched back as she raised her daggers, still red with blood, and took an offensive stance. "And as for you . . . I could do with some entertainment while we wait for the others."
Ginnis launched herself forward at Brianna, but Mardin was ready, stepping between the two and slamming his shield forward with all his strength, sending the woman flying back a few feet. She sprang up almost immediately, however, racing forward to engage Mardin again even as the other fighters with her raced towards his own companions.
The fight only lasted a few minutes, however; though decently skilled, the mercenaries had no mage or archer with them, and it was a simple matter for Mardin, Carver and Fenris to keep the fighters busy while Varric and Brianna picked them off. Mardin was able to run Ginnis through while she was temporarily paralyzed by a ball of lightning that Brianna had shot at her; he made sure the job was finished, too, filled with relief at the quieting of his alarmed instincts.
"Dead and good riddance," Saemus said when the last of the Winters was down, "but . . . she said she was waiting for more. A lot more!"
"Well, let them come," Carver said determinedly, that excited gleam in his eye again, and Mardin couldn't help but smile. Give the boy a bit of extra training, and he thinks he's ready to take on the world.
"Then we'll just have to ready a fitting welcome," Brianna said reassuringly to Saemus, before she glanced back at the three open trails in the rocks behind them, nodding at Varric who moved to start setting some traps. Fenris climbed to the top of an outcropping of rock to keep an eye out as she turned to Mardin, saying in an undertone, "I'm not sure if we can face off against an entire company."
"Don't worry," Mardin told her, squeezing her shoulder gently and fighting the surprising urge to take her in his arms just to comfort her, "I have a plan."
She frowned up at him, her gaze faintly suspicious. "What kind of plan?"
"Just . . . watch." He let go of her shoulder with some reluctance. "Stay behind, and pick off any stragglers that get past me."
"What are you talking about –" she began, but Fenris interrupted her at that moment, calling from the top of the rocks, "They are coming!"
Mardin took a deep breath. It's now or never. "Don't be afraid, all right?" Please don't be afraid. "It's still just me." Without waiting for her answer, he walked forward, tossing his shield aside and sheathing his sword, heading for the middle path into the rocks that Varric had left open of traps, letting the change pass through his body as he reached the opening.
Don't be afraid? What in the Maker's name would she be afraid of? Brianna wondered, her mind tumbling with so many questions as Mardin walked away from her, even as she felt her shoulder still tingling from his touch. Just what was it that he was going to do to defeat an entire mercenary company, and why did he throw aside his shield?! She was about to run forward after him, though she had no clear idea what she planned to do, when she thought she saw his body shimmer. She blinked hard, thinking maybe it was an illusion of the bright sunlight streaming down on the rocks and sand, but no, there it was again. His whole body was shimmering, and then suddenly, rapidly, his body began to change.
Within seconds, in the place where Mardin had been standing, was an enormous grizzly bear. She'd seen a few grizzly bears outside of Lothering, back when they'd lived in Ferelden, but this one was even larger, nearly another foot taller at the shoulder, and its whole body bigger and heavier-looking, besides. She blinked again, then pinched herself, hard, wondering if she was dreaming and in the Fade. But, no, pain shot through her where she'd pinched. "Is anybody else seeing this?" she asked faintly.
"Well, shit," was Varric's only response, but the astonishment in his voice was answer enough for her.
"Did he just . . . turn into a bear?" Carver asked, looking – and sounding – as shocked as Brianna felt.
"I do not understand," Fenris murmured, having jumped back down from the rocks to rejoin them. "He is not a mage . . . is he?" he added a trifle uncertainly, turning to her.
"No," Brianna replied, shaking her head, certain of that much, at least. She had felt no manipulation of the Veil upon his change, no sensation that magic was being performed, and yet she had no idea how else he could have done it. The only time she had ever seen anything like this was when Flemeth had turned into a dragon, and yet she knew that had been magic; she'd felt it, felt the shift in the Veil. This was what he'd been hiding from her, but she hadn't the slightest clue what it meant.
"First a dragon witch, and now a bear man? Man-bear?" Varric was muttering next to her, but he suddenly brought his crossbow up, and Brianna saw why.
One of the traps Varric had set on the side path had gone off, along with a scream of pain, and she could see a few mercenaries coming down the path beyond Mardin – or the bear? – that were only a few feet away. The bear raised its head, letting out an earth-shaking roar that made Brianna flinch in spite of herself, before it lumbered forward surprisingly quickly, pouncing on the first mercenary in its path. The man went down with a scream, blood spraying up, and in only a few short seconds, the bear was moving on again. The other mercenaries behind the first had halted at the sight, and a couple of them turned and ran.
Varric readied his crossbow. "Well, however he's doing it, Red is providing us with a great distraction."
"And it would be a shame not to use it," Carver agreed, and before Brianna could stop him, her little brother was racing forward, sword out, Fenris at his side.
She held her breath, frozen with fear, as they raced past the bear on either side, wondering if it would suddenly pounce on one of them, but it didn't even seem to notice as they raced by, going after the fleeing mercenaries. Instead, it remained focused on the mercenaries before it, ripping through them with alarming ease, blood flying and pained screams sounding that ended in gurgles. She let out a breath of relief when she saw that it seemed to only be after the mercenaries.
"What, did you think he was suddenly going to attack Junior or Broody?" Varric asked her quietly. "Like he was an abomination or something?"
"I don't know, I –" Don't be afraid. It's still just me. His earlier words came back to her, and she realized with sudden clarity that she had used very nearly the same words herself before, when telling one of her former lovers in Ferelden that she was a mage. Along with it, came the memory of how he had been afraid anyway, and had let that fear – that hatred – drive them apart. How could she be so hypocritical? She shook her head, ashamed of herself, forcing herself to think logically and get beyond her initial, instinctual fear. "No, of course not. This was his plan to help us, that's all. So let's help him." She raised her staff, readying a spell.
Varric nodded in approval. "That's more like it, Hawke." He aimed Bianca carefully at one of the mercenaries emerging from the side path, stepping over his fallen companions' bodies, and the bolt flew unerringly to pierce the man in the center of his forehead before he crumpled to the ground.
Brianna sent a fireball at another two mercenaries coming down the other side path, blasting them apart in an explosion of flame, and the battle continued onward in much the same fashion. She and Varric remained back, guarding Saemus and picking off any mercenaries that got past the others, and after several minutes, the other three came back. Carver and Fenris were covered in blood, most of it not their own, Brianna suspected, and so, too, was the bear covered, its brown fur stained mostly red now. The bear halted several feet away, settling down on its haunches and watching them carefully.
"Oh Andraste," Saemus breathed from behind her, as Carver and Fenris came nearer, wiping blood off their faces, "I've never seen so many corpses. So much blood!" Saemus pointed a shaky finger at the bear. "And that man – that thing – is it a demon? An abomination?"
Brianna winced, even as the bear stood up, snarling. She moved forward, surprised at her own sudden bravery, and held up a calming hand to the bear. "Relax, he didn't mean anything by it, okay? He's never seen anything like this before; none of us have." The bear settled back down with a huff, making grumbling noises. It really is him. She turned back to Saemus, reassuring the young man, "There's no need to panic. He's not a demon, and he's here to help, just like we are. Now pull yourself together, there may be more."
To her astonishment, since she still had no idea how any of this was possible, the bear gave what appeared to be a nod of agreement, its massive, shaggy head moving up and down, before it turned and lumbered back down the path again. Carver and Fenris raised their swords and followed after the bear as another wave of mercenaries came charging forward down the paths, seemingly disregarding all the corpses of their fallen companions.
Some of this group were apparently braver than the last, trying to attack the bear; the weaker weapons didn't even seem to pierce his hide, but some of the sharper or larger swords did, opening up glancing blows along his side and causing him to roar with rage. He reared up, swatting them aside with immense paws, sending them flying through the air, one or two them slamming into the rocky walls on either side, and then came down hard on the fallen bodies. After that, most of the mercenaries stuck to trying to attack Carver or Fenris, but the bear watched their backs carefully, hunting anyone going after them with a particular vengeance, and Brianna wondered how she could ever have thought he would have attacked them. She and Varric stayed where they were again, picking off anyone that emerged to try to get to Saemus, and after what seemed like an eternity, the second wave was finally down as well. Which was fortunate, Brianna thought, as by that time, she was exhausted and nearly out of magic.
This time, when the three fighters returned, Mardin had changed back to himself again; he stopped to pick up his shield, strapping it to his back before he came over to her, limping a little as he went. Brianna realized with surprise that he must be injured; though she could not see the wounds he'd taken as the bear beneath his armor, which was surprisingly unmarred, it was obvious by the way he clutched his side they were still there. He was also alarmingly pale, she noted, and looked drawn and exhausted as he stopped a few feet away from her, his ice-blue eyes infinitely wary as he watched her. When she wordlessly handed him the two healing potions she had left, knowing she didn't have enough energy for a healing spell at the moment, the sudden relief on his face was indescribable, and it made her heart ache.
He'd been expecting condemnation, she realized now; he'd thought her reaction would be the same as Saemus's, or maybe even worse. And hearing what Saemus had said, she knew now why he had felt the need to hide who he was. She just wasn't sure how this answered any of the questions she'd had about him. When he'd finished drinking the potions, she told him quietly, "You have some explaining to do, when we get back."
"Lots of explaining, Red," Varric added. "Enough to fill a book."
"I don't suppose that's something you can teach me?" Carver asked hopefully.
Mardin laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid not." Turning to Fenris, who was watching him warily, he went on, "And if I was going to attack you, Fenris, I would have done it already, instead of guarding your back. In human form, I don't bite – men, that is." He winked at Brianna, who couldn't help but smile, and Varric burst out laughing.
"I am relieved to hear it," Fenris said dryly, though he couldn't quite suppress a grin of his own, and seemed to relax at the words. "Besides which, Hawke says you are not a mage, which means that is not the power of a demon, nor can you be an abomination. That is all I need to know."
Brianna rolled her eyes. Though she was relieved that Fenris didn't seem to have a problem with whatever Mardin was, his prejudice against mages was still extreme. Apparently, it didn't matter what crazy thing you might be in Fenris's eyes, so long as it meant you weren't a mage.
"Are there any more coming?" she asked Mardin.
He shook his head. "So far as I can tell, that's the last of them."
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask just how he could tell – obviously those good instincts that Anders had mentioned had something to do with his ability to turn into a bear – but she knew now wasn't the time for what would obviously be a long story. They needed to get Saemus back to his father. She turned to see where he was now, and found the young man on his knees next to the body of his Qunari friend again. She went over to him, and at her approach, Saemus looked up, eyes red from tears.
"Ashaad never lied, never coddled," he said softly. "You were worth his time, or you were not." He took a deep breath, standing up again. "They are not the brutes others claim they are. Take me to my father, and I will try again to make him see."
No, Brianna thought, remembering Ketojan, they weren't all brutes, just as all mages weren't abominations. Of course, that didn't mean they couldn't be dangerous when pressed – both the mages, and the Qunari. She wondered if sometimes it wasn't a curse to be able to see both sides, but shook the thought off as she turned to Saemus.
"It's clear this was not your first encounter with this 'Ashaad'," she said gently.
He shook his head. "I met him soon after their ship foundered. I had run, again, to escape the Keep and my father. Ashaad was to map the coast to 'find an answer for the Arishok.'" He waved at the rocky coast around them. "I had so many doubts. The Qunari have none."
"I wasn't aware that Qunari take many friends." They might not all be brutes, but Brianna had not imagined them as the type to go about making friends, either.
"Perhaps it isn't the right word," Saemus replied thoughtfully. "I am the Viscount's son, bound by everything that means. Ashaad did not care. We were both seeking something. That was enough."
Brianna nodded. She could see how it would be appealing to be around someone who didn't care that you were – whatever you were, a mage, or the Viscount's son, or something else. She cleared her throat. "I confess, I'm not sure what one does with a dead Qunari. Would you like us to bury him?"
Saemus shook his head before he shrugged. "The body is no longer him and is worthy of no special treatment. That is apparently their way."
"Well," she tried again, "maybe his people should be told?"
"They will know," Saemus replied with certainty. "Whether they will deign to acknowledge it or not, I have no idea. There was much of Ashaad that I didn't understand, but it was so very worth trying."
"Well, we should take you back to the Viscount," she said after a moment. "He is clearly concerned for your safety."
Saemus scowled. "The 'Viscount' sends thugs to do a father's job. I was in no danger until his 'help' arrived." He pointed at Ginnis's body, still lying on the sandy ground several feet away.
"Perhaps if you'd told him your wish was to be out here with this Ashaad, he might not have felt you were in danger, and sent people to look for you," Brianna suggested, though she didn't know why she felt the need to intervene. The last thing she needed was to be in the middle of a father-son spat.
"Keep your assumptions," Saemus snapped. "He doesn't hear me. He is as tired of being disappointed as I am of bearing it. And now Ashaad is dead. It's not right." The anger on his face faded, and he sighed. "I am ready to leave, and you have coin to collect, I'm sure."
Brianna frowned, but she didn't rise to the barb; it was true enough that they'd come here to earn money, after all. So they made their way back to the Keep, bringing Saemus with them, and were mostly silent along the way. She wanted to ask Mardin so many different questions about what she'd seen, but she didn't think it would be fair to ask him to spill all his secrets in front of Saemus. She'd simply have to wait until they got back to Kirkwall, and she could ask him somewhere in private.
They reached Kirkwall a few hours later, in the late afternoon, and took Saemus immediately back to the Keep and up to his father's office, which they were surprisingly allowed to enter, likely due to Saemus's presence, considering most people had given their blood-soaked selves a wide berth in the Keep. Though Seneschal Bran had a mildly disgusted look on his face at their appearance, he led them into the room.
"Father . . ." Saemus said quietly, and not at all enthusiastically, as they entered.
The Viscount strode forward, a look of relief on his face. He was an elderly man, nearly bald, with only a few wisps of white hair around the sides of his head, poking out from beneath his black crown, and white stubble for his beard. He wore long black robes that swished along the ground as he walked. "My son. I thought I'd lost you." He held out his arms as he approached Saemus, out in front.
Saemus stepped away from his father's embrace, holding up his hand. "Enough, Father."
Seneschal Bran cleared his throat, obviously eager to gloss over the uncomfortable reunion as he stepped forward, waving to Brianna and the others. "Er, allow me to present one Serah Hawke, Your Excellency, and her companions. They fulfilled the bounty."
The Viscount turned to them, the look of disappointment on his face at his son's behaviour changing into a surprisingly warm smile. "You have my gratitude. I hope you encountered no great difficulties on my son's behalf."
"Well, we wouldn't have had any problems, had it not been for the pile of mercenaries that tried to kill us," Brianna told him honestly.
Viscount Dumar frowned. "I was told the Winters had involved themselves. Was there no way to avoid an incident?"
Brianna tried to fight back the scowl that wanted to come to her face. The Viscount obviously had little concept of the world outside his office, but she needed to make a good impression, for her family's sake. "Not if you wanted your son back in one piece, no," she said as diplomatically as she could. "They were quite . . . rough and threatening in the manner of the rescue, and didn't take at all kindly to Saemus saying he'd rather go with us."
"They murdered my friend!" Saemus snapped at his father. "Where is the concern for that?"
Viscount Dumar turned to him with a frown. "It was my understanding you were captured alone, foolishly traipsing about the coast as you do."
"I was not captured," Saemus said impatiently. "I was with Ashaad. The Qunari. They are not monsters to be feared. If you would just try to understand, others would see as well."
The Viscount shook his head. "Better that you were thought abducted than to have their influence suspected in my own family . . . benign or not, it's too much."
This time, Brianna couldn't stop herself as she said coolly, "Your son is right. Perhaps if you'd taken the time to listen to him, instead of concerning yourself solely with appearances, the whole incident might have been avoided." Had the Viscount just left his son be, that Qunari would still be alive, and she would not have had to endanger the lives of her brother and friends to recover Saemus from the Winters. She had no illusions about what could have happened without Mardin's strange abilities, and it was the Viscount's inability to listen to his son that had brought the whole thing about.
"That is . . . quite enough!" Seneschal Bran stammered, sounding both shocked and enraged. He turned quickly to the Viscount, who looked equally shocked. "My apologies, Excellency, for this intrusion into personal matters! There is no . . . just . . . move!" he snapped at Brianna, nearly shoving her out the door. She went out willingly enough, happy to be free of the argument, and so did the others, though they looked less than pleased at the treatment.
This was proven true when they got outside the office, and the Seneschal closed the door behind him, scowling at them all as he faced them. Mardin stepped forward, saying in a low, evenly controlled voice, "You should take care with how you treat the lady in the future."
Brianna flashed a surprised look at him, even as she felt inexplicably warm at his defense of her. He wasn't looking at her, however; his gaze remained trained on the Seneschal, who backed down after a moment of haughty scowling, turning to Brianna and giving her a stiff bow before saying, "I'm impressed with your skill. Less so with your tact. But better you than the Winters, I suppose." So saying, he handed her five sovereigns, before turning away to indicate he clearly considered the conversation over.
Brianna shrugged, tucking the sovereigns into her pouch. She didn't particularly want to be around the snobbish Seneschal any longer, and this gave her some much-needed money that she could put towards the expedition. She gestured to the others to leave, and they turned and headed down the stairs away from the offices.
"Where to now, Hawke?" Varric asked as they reached the doors of the Keep.
"Well," she replied, looking significantly at Mardin, who sighed, "there is someone who needs to answer a lot of questions. But I don't think the Hanged Man is the best place to talk about it; perhaps we could use the mansion for a bit first, to talk in private?" She looked at Fenris hopefully with this last bit.
The elf nodded. "That is fine. I would like to hear this explanation, myself."
It took them only a few moments to head over to the mansion that Fenris and Mardin currently shared, and they were soon all seated around the wooden table in the kitchen that Brianna had found Mardin in that morning. The kitchen that she'd noticed was surprisingly clean; she hadn't been in the mansion in the last couple of weeks until this morning, only seeing them at the Hanged Man, but it was obvious that Mardin had brought about a few changes in that time, since Fenris had never bothered to clean in the months prior.
"Don't you have any ale, elf?" Varric complained as he arranged his leather-bound journal on the table before him, clearly ready to write everything down.
"No, dwarf, I do not," Fenris replied evenly, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. "I do, however, have some very fine bottles of Aggregio in the wine cellar."
Varric made a face. "Ugh. I'll just wait until we get to the Hanged Man, thanks."
Brianna shook her head at the two of them, torn between amusement and exasperation, before she turned to Mardin, who looked unusually nervous. "So, Mardin, care to start explaining?"
He hesitated. "Honestly, I'm not sure where to begin. It's . . . quite a long story."
"How about the part where you can turn into a bear?" Carver suggested dryly. "That might be a good place to start."
Brianna couldn't help but laugh at that, and even Mardin grinned, seeming to find relief in her amusement. "Fair enough," he conceded. "I'm . . . what's known as a shapeshifter, or as we usually call ourselves, a shifter. All shifters have the ability to turn into their animal kin, or the animal that is most like them. In my case, that happens to be a grizzly bear. In my sister's case," he turned a sudden knowing grin on Varric, "it happens to be a black panther."
Varric's eyes widened with surprise. "Shit!" he exclaimed, before he laughed. "So you and Blondie were having me on the other night! There really was a panther fighting the archdemon at the battle of Denerim, then. Wait, that means Blondie knows about this, too?"
"He does," Mardin confirmed. "He learned about it from my sister, during his time with the Wardens. And as I understand," he turned to look at Brianna, "you already asked him what he knew."
"I did," she agreed unabashedly, meeting his gaze squarely. "I thought he, at least, might trust me." Mardin had the grace to look a little sheepish as she went on, "But he told me he'd promised your sister to keep it secret, and he couldn't tell me anything. But I still don't understand how either of you do it, if you're not mages, or why no one has ever heard of shifters until they met the two of you." She looked to Varric questioningly, and he shook his head; obviously the concept of shifters was new to him too. Fenris, too, looked confused, and she thought that if any place would have known of the existence of something like this, it would have been the Imperium. She turned back to Mardin, brows raised.
"That's where the long story part comes in," he answered her slowly. He took a deep breath before finally continuing, "The reason that no one has ever heard of shifters until they meet us is because we are the only ones in all of Thedas. My country, Fallor, where there are many shifters, does not exist in Thedas. We come from another world, called Sionac." He said all this quickly, as if determined to get it out before someone interrupted him.
Brianna simply stared at him for a moment, too shocked to form words. Had he actually said what she thought she'd heard? "Wait, what? You're from another world? You can't be serious!"
"Of course I am," he replied, sounding a trifle impatient. "Did you honestly think Thedas was the only world in all of existence?"
She blinked, glancing at the others; Fenris and Carver looked equally shocked, and merely shrugged at her. Varric was scribbling away furiously, muttering, "This is gold," and didn't even look up. "I . . . well, I never really thought about it at all, I suppose. But if I had, then I guess that's what I would have thought, yes. I would never have imagined that there were other worlds." And she still didn't know if she imagined that now. How could such a monumental thing be true?
"There are many worlds beyond yours and mine," Mardin told them. "As many as there are stars in the sky, or so the Messengers tell us. And all the worlds all balanced on a scale, with varying levels of magic, contact with the World Beyond, and varying levels of darkness or light. And some have portals, or cracks, to other worlds, and those worlds, like mine, know about the existence of other worlds, but not anything else about them. That's why I didn't know about things that are common knowledge here, like darkspawn, the Blights, and that mages can be possessed by demons."
"There are no mages in your world?" Fenris asked abruptly, and Brianna looked at him, surprised. Did he actually believe all this?
"There are," Mardin replied, "but there is no danger of possession by demons in our world."
Fenris nodded, as if absorbing this. "And blood magic?"
"None that I've ever heard of."
"Then your world sounds vastly preferable to Thedas," Fenris said softly, bitterness ringing through every word.
"Well, every world has its own problems." A dark look passed across Mardin's face before he shook it off.
"And are there lots of . . . shifters, like you? Can anybody be one?" Carver asked eagerly, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar term. Brianna wondered how everybody was accepting this so easily; but then, why would Mardin lie about something like this, something that sounded so utterly crazy? And it did explain everything she'd been wondering, answered all the questions she'd had, but she'd never expected the explanation to be so . . . unbelievable.
Mardin nodded, smiling. "Anybody that passes the trial, that is. During the trial, you must battle the animal that is most kin to you, and if you last long enough against it, you are granted the ability to share its shape. All the members of my Order were shifters; nobody can become a member without being one. It's the same with the King's personal guard, the Knights of the Fox, and the King himself. They're all shifters."
"Your strength," Brianna said suddenly, realizing that not all of her questions had been answered. "Is that part of being a shifter?"
"In a way. All shifters have certain . . . abilities beyond being able to change into their animal kin," Mardin explained. "We all get two, sometimes three, abilities even when we're not shifted, depending on what our animal kin is. I have a bear's strength and heightened sense of smell; my sister has a panther's heightened hearing and sense of smell. Another shifter might have enhanced eyesight, enhanced speed, that sort of thing."
"Heightened sense of smell . . ." Brianna said slowly. That was how he'd known what her soap was made of, she realized. And – "That's how you found the Flint company on Sundermount. But the . . . really good instincts, Anders called it? What about that?"
Mardin smiled a bit ruefully. "You noticed a lot more than I thought you would. But yes, I can track people by scent, so long as there's not too many other scents interfering, or rain hasn't washed it all away. The instincts are what you'd call a side effect, I suppose. Animals sense when things or people are dangerous to them, like when a big storm's coming; I can too, and so can any other shifter."
"The Wardens with your sister must find that handy," Carver remarked, and Mardin nodded.
"It does explain everything I was wondering about," Brianna admitted reluctantly, "but . . . I just . . ." How could she just accept something so unbelievable, so huge?
"Ask Anders, if you don't believe me," Mardin told her quietly. "As I told you, he knows all about it from my sister. He had a hard time believing it at first, he said, but he came to realize it made sense."
"That's why the stories say your sister is from Kirkwall," Varric said suddenly, looking up from his writing.
"It must be something the Wardens made up," Mardin agreed. "They couldn't say where she'd really come from, after all."
"Then, when you say that your sister disappeared three years ago . . ." Fenris murmured.
Mardin nodded at the elf. "That's when she came here, through the crack, the portal, between our worlds. I didn't know where she'd gone, not at first, and once I did find out, I didn't even know if she was still okay. Not until I talked to Anders."
You have finally arrived. Flemeth's words rang through Brianna's mind. "Wait, when we found you that day on the Wounded Coast, that was when you were just getting here?"
"I came through the portal and woke up on the Coast, basically right before you found me," Mardin confirmed for her. "Coming through isn't . . . exact. They couldn't just send me to wherever my sister had gone, and they didn't know where I'd come out. And of course I had no idea where I was. Nor could I tell you how I'd gotten there, so . . ." he shrugged.
"You lied about a shipwreck," Brianna finished for him, and he nodded.
"What else was I supposed to do?" he asked simply. "If I'd told you then how I'd ended up there . . ."
"We would have believed you delusional," Fenris supplied.
"Bat-shit crazy would be a better term, Broody," Varric said with a chuckle.
"And we would have left you there," Carver added, grinning, and Mardin rolled his eyes in response, though he was smiling.
"Wait," Brianna began, "if all this is true, just why are you and your sister here?"
"Oh, well . . ." Mardin looked suddenly uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck. "We're supposed to have destinies here, I guess. My sister's, I'm assuming, was to help stop the Blight, and continue helping the Wardens, I suppose."
"And yours?" Brianna prompted, though she had a sneaking suspicion she might already know.
"I don't know for sure," Mardin said at last. "Cranin wasn't very clear, but I'm supposed to help stop some oncoming darkness, and it has to do with who I first met when I got here, so it's got something to do with all of you, and that destiny of yours that Flemeth was talking about. I think it does, anyway. But that's all I know."
Brianna stood up abruptly. "I think I need a drink." She was starting to believe him, because it all made too much sense. Terrifying sense, and it was all simply too much for her to deal with right now. "In fact, I think I need a lot of drinks."
"I'm with you there, Hawke," Varric declared, tucking away his book and flexing his hand. "I think I'm getting hand cramps. I'll pick your brain more another night, Red." Mardin nodded as Varric went on, "Wicked Grace?"
"We might as well," Carver agreed, "if we'll be at the Hanged Man anyway."
"As long as you do not cheat this time, dwarf," Fenris answered darkly.
"I don't cheat!" Varric protested. "If you lose, Broody, that's your own fault!"
Brianna was already heading for the door, wanting to drink and not think about the terrifying concept of a destiny that caused a dragon witch to look at her in sympathy, or a warrior to be sent from another world to help her. "Can we just go?" she called over her shoulder impatiently as she walked out the door of the kitchen.
The others followed her, Varric and Fenris bickering over Wicked Grace the whole way, while Mardin and Carver came up on either side of her. "Can I ask you all not to tell anyone?" Mardin asked quietly.
"Who would believe us?" Carver said simply.
"Yes, that," Brianna pointed at her brother in agreement. "I'm still having trouble believing it." Looking up at Mardin's face, at the worry buried deep in his eyes, she softened. "We'll keep it a secret, don't worry."
"Thank you." He gave her that genuinely bright smile of his that she saw so rarely, but when she did, it never failed to make her heart skip a beat, as it did not this time. A warrior from another world. No, she couldn't think anymore about it, she decided, not right now, and she picked up her pace, leaving the mansion and heading for the Hanged Man.
They reached the tavern in little time, and as soon as they entered, Brianna noticed a commotion up at the bar. A man was yelling at a woman, a gorgeous, dusky-skinned, scantily-clad woman who was studiously ignoring him while she drank her ale. Varric perked up almost immediately. "That looks like another story," he said brightly, and before Brianna could stop him, he was heading over to the bar, Mardin and the others following him. Brianna sighed before she hurried after them. It seemed like she wouldn't be getting her drink just yet.