Disclaimer: I'm just playing in Bioware's backyard.


"I talked to my contacts, and I found some people who might be willing to pay your way into the city," Gamlen explained.

"That's where you were," Bethany said, "You knew how difficult it would be to get us in."

She sounded so relieved Gamlen's pinched expression stood out more than it might have otherwise. "Right, well, there is a catch."

"Life is always a catch," I muttered. Gamlen harrumphed, but continued talking to Marian.

"The catch is, you and the twins have to work off the debt. For a year." Silence reigned for about two seconds before pandemonium broke loose.

"A year!" Leandra exclaimed, stepping out of her son's embrace to confront her brother.

"It's the best I could do!"

"Putting my children in debt is the best you could do?"

"Leandra," he warned, "Trust me when I say most refugees won't get a better option anywhere else."

"So that's your idea?" Carver asked, "Selling us into indentured servitude?"

"Think of it as having a job waiting for you in your new home."

"Wonderful," Bethany said sarcastically.

She expressed my thoughts exactly. It wasn't really a job, because they wouldn't get paid for their work. Wait. This wasn't like the game; Food and other necessities required money.

"If they don't get paid," I wondered aloud, "How will we live?"

"I managed to get my contacts to come to the Gallows to meet you personally. Whatever is worked out is between you."

So there was the chance of payment, just very small. Better than I was expecting, but I got the feeling I was going to get sick of whatever small percentage the siblings were allowed to keep.

"And, who are you?" Gamlen's scrutiny was finally focused on me, now that most of the family business seemed to be out of the way. "Leandra, you didn't mention much of these other... women in your letter." His gaze drifted to Aveline as well.

I scratched at my arm and breathed a nervous greeting. "I'm Sabrina."

"Yes, I know. But what I want to know is why you're traveling with my sister and her children."

"I- They helped me out so-"

"What, so you're just riding on their good graces? It was hard enough to get them meetings with my contacts. If they have to take you, either of you, that might make it impossible."

"That's, I'm not trying to make things harder!"

"Please, ser," Aveline cut in, "We won't impede their progress into the city."

He grunted. "See that you don't."

I would say the reason he was so adamant was he was worried about his family, but that exchange was... odd. Like he had something riding on this as well. If they were his contacts, maybe he owed them money? Ooooh it would be just like that sleaze. I crossed my arms and pushed my lips together to keep from saying anything.

Marian was the one to break the silence. "Who, exactly, are we meeting with?"

"Meeran heads up the mercenary company, the Red Iron. They're looking for recruits," Gamlen explained. "Athenril... I guess you might call her a smuggler."

"You might call her one?"

Gamlen shrugged. "Those aren't always the jobs she does. Either one of them can help you. All you need to do is find them in the courtyard and convince them you're worth the trouble. They should both be expecting you."

Hawke just nodded, taking all the information in before addressing her siblings. "Well you two? What do you think about this?"

"We've come this far," Bethany said, "I don't care who we work for, as long as it means we don't have to go back."

"Carver?"

"What can I say? Better here than nowhere."

"Oh Gamlen, I don't know about this," Leandra said. She had started twisting her hands together again, gazing at her brother like he could magically come up with another solution.

"It's a lot of coin, Leandra." Gamlen's voice was low and even more worn than when the conversation started. "Don't go expecting our name to carry the kind of weight it used to."

"They should be nobility!" Leandra protested.

He sighed in aggravation. "I'm doing the best I can, given the circumstances."

Marian cleared her throat to get the attention of the two older family members. "Before we talk to them, is there any information you can give us, Uncle? This, Meeran. What's he like?"

"He's a hired sword, what do you expect him to be like?" He scoffed. "I wouldn't bring him home for dinner or anything, but he's got a decent reputation. I wouldn't have asked him if I thought he'd cross you." Gamlen's voice was hard at the end, his tensed shoulders daring anyone to suggest he wasn't loyal.

Marian hummed. "Well, we know what mercenaries do. How dangerous is this smuggler's work?"

"It won't be pretty working for her. Smugglers don't usually operate... within the law. Not to mention, Athenril is a small fish compared to some of the other thieves' guilds around here."

My mind immediately thought of all those dwarven thieves who would come after us. The Carta? That seemed right. Some quest pissed them off, probably, though I couldn't recall what it might be.

"But she's tough, she's fair, and she never deals in slaves or flesh."

Always a good policy. I might have encouraged the Hawke siblings to take her out, otherwise. Ah! Was that what pissed off the Carta? In the game, the party killed people dealing in slaves, I was positive. Damn, no way to avoid it then. I must have let off an audible groan, because Hawke turned to me with a question in her eyes.

"Any opinions?"

I stuttered a few incomprehensible things before finally saying, "I'm not really a fighter. B-but, I could help with... smuggling? Kinda, like, information gathering?" I scuffed my feet on the ground. "I don't feel right coming into the city without helping you out."

"I feel the same," Aveline spoke up. "I won't allow others incur debts on my behalf."

"Can't see that it makes a difference," said Gamlen, "You look like a lady who can pull her own weight. Even if she can't." He eyed me as he said it, causing acid to boil in my stomach. "Of course, the decision is ultimately up to all of you."

"Then you'll come with us," Leandra almost demanded.

"I... have no real option." Aveline's face softened. "Thank you."

When Mama Hawke turned to me, I smiled and nodded, already having planned on taking her offer. ...Wow. I knew they would take me. The thought they might suggest I board a ship or stay in the Gallows never even crossed my mind. I felt a lump in my throat as I realized how much I already trusted them.

"Let's find these contacts of our Uncle's and see what they have to say." Everyone consented and followed Marian into the main area of the courtyard.

As we descended the staircase, I noticed the Guard Captain stationed at the bottom, just like the first time we met. He was on duty here a lot, I realized. Just in the past few days more refugees had come pouring in, only a few making their way to the Captain, and even fewer actually getting in. Every time someone did though, I had to push down burning resentment. At least the meditation exercises were coming in handy.

"Captain Ewald," Aveline greeted when we got closer.

Most of our group kept moving, on the lookout for one of the contacts, but Carver stayed behind to greet him, and I was curious.

"So that was your Uncle, was it?" I heard the redheaded man say, "Good. I thought he was another confidence man, trying to sell promises."

Oh, he was selling something alright. Us.

"So, does he have the coin you need?"

"No, but he does have another way, as much as I dislike the idea." Carver crossed his arms.

"Not breaking your way in, I hope."

"Nothing like that, I assure you," Aveline cut in.

The Captain hummed. "If it were up to me, I'd let you all through. But there are a lot of eyes watching. A lot of palms that need to be greased."

"Our Uncle mentioned something like that," Carver mused.

"Did he? My suggestion, wait for the next ship, and try another city that might not have closed their doors yet."

"With all due respect Captain," Aveline said, "We'll takes our chances here, first."

"As you will." He shrugged. "It was only a suggestion."

We said polite goodbyes and decided to catch up to the rest of the group. We found Marian and Bethany just around a corner. They were talking to a man who looked around the same age as Gamlen; He was probably Meeran, I thought. He was outfitted lightly, not much visible armor on him except his limbs, and his grey hair was clearly receding. He had a look about him though, like he was ready to start a fight at anytime with anyone, if they looked at him wrong.

"A shame," he was saying. "Well, come back if you change your mind. The offer stands 'til around sundown."

"We'll keep it in mind."

The group began walking away and met with us partway, near where Gamlen and Leandra waited with the family hound. "Well, where have you three been? Off on an adventure of your own?" Marian asked.

"Just greeting the Guard Captain," Aveline said. "It seems he doesn't think much of our chances."

Gamlen scoffed. "Well of course he doesn't. The blighted idiot just follows the 'higher command.' Whatever she says is law."

I frowned at this mention of the Templars' Knight-Commander. She was determined to be a pain in the ass, right from the start.

"Well, you didn't miss much," Marian said. "We've talked to Meeran, but the work seems a little... violent, if I'm being perfectly honest. And it requires a lot of physical exertion."

I understood the look she sent to Carver, worried, flicking over his chest to watch his breathing, but judging by his darkening expression, he did too. "How is that any different from what we're used to?"

His sister shook her head. "It isn't just defending yourself, or others, against an enemy. It's specifically seeking out a man, and killing him, just because you're told." She gave him a steely look. "Could you do that, Carver?"

He shifted on his feet and crossed his arms. "So what then, we're going to talk to the smuggler?"

"That's the idea."

Aveline nodded. "Lead on then."

"Come back here once you've spoken to her," Mama Hawke said. "I want to know your final decision."

"Of course, Mother," Bethany placated.

I hesitated as the siblings and Aveline began walking away. I cleared my throat a little, not knowing how to ask to come along. Bethany was the one who turned around and saw my sheepish smile.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked.

"Oh, um, sure!" I took a few quick steps to walk by her side. "I just, wasn't certain... you know."

"Athenril was your original choice," she pointed out, "You should be there when we talk. I don't know much about smuggling, but if it's not too dangerous for you, and you can help..." She rubbed her bicep with the opposite hand. "It would be appreciated."

I tried to make my smile more genuine. The Hawkes did have a shitty time of it, didn't they? They would be more used to this kind of lifestyle, but they didn't have a home to go back to, like I did. If I ever figured out how to get back.

"I would like to help," I offered, "Since I can't do much else at the moment. And you're letting me stay." I trailed off, not knowing what else to say, but Bethany's soft gaze was enough.

On the opposite end of the courtyard, in a shadow covered corner, we finally found a small, likely group. A short, elven woman stood proudly in front of a couple other elves, light rust hair pulled up into a messy bun, though a short fringe fell around her seashell pale face.

Her sharp gaze was on us the second we got within speaking range, accentuating her already fine features. She dismissed the two others, her subordinates standing at a respectful distance, but ready to step in if needed.

"Are you Athenril?" Hawke asked, stopping just out of reach.

"I am," the elf replied, facing us. "And you must be Gamlen's niece. Interesting." She gave us all a once over, gaze lingering uncomfortably whenever we moved.

At the same time, I was giving her a look over of my own. Though slender, as all elves seemed to be, I could see the wiry muscles under her skin. She seemed well outfitted: flexible armor, plenty of pouches for things like poisons and lock picks, and probably some hidden daggers to go along with the ones sitting comfortably at her hips. Her stance was relaxed, confident like a cat's as she watched the newcomers in her territory.

"I don't know what he's told you about us, but he's certainly told us a great deal about you."

"Uh, how much is a great deal...?" Carver asked hesitantly.

"Enough to pique our interest," she responded, shifting her weight to one hip, "Provided you can justify your uncle's confidence."

"I'd say we can, but I hear getting us into the city isn't cheap," Marian replied, keeping her own stance ready for quick movement.

"If you can do what we're hoping, it should be worth the expense. After all," her grin widened, "It's not everyday we're offered an apostate's services."

I heard several breaths hitch, including mine. Ohhh I'd forgotten Gamlen had been so stupid. Ugh, was there really no other way to get the attention of these groups?

I realized my mistake as soon as I'd met the elven woman's eyes. "I'm guessing that would be you. Funny, you don't look related at all."

"N-no, I'm not. I mean, not that, any of it."

She just smirked at me. "Whatever you say."

Hawke subtly stepped further in front of me. "I hadn't realized Gamlen had told you that much. Does everyone know about us?" She huffed in exasperation.

Athenril waved a hand back and forth. "The Templars in Kirkwall like to think they have all the mages on lock down, but when has that ever been true? That said, any apostates found are immediately taken to the Gallows... or killed. We can keep them from taking notice while you're with us."

"Can you?" Bethany asked, arms crossed and, eyes narrowed.

"Wouldn't be the first time." she shrugged nonchalantly. "I can be honest. We don't compete with the thieves' guild, but we keep our fingers in a lot of pies. That gives us plenty of options, even if we have one more mage than expected."

Ah shit. Athenril was quick on the uptake. Well, that and I was still a dead give away. How the hell did people lie while looking you straight in the eye?

Hawke spoke up again. "I'd like to know more about what we'd be doing for you. If it's too risky..."

"Risk is part of the job," Athenril warned, "As I mentioned, we've got options, but we're not killers or slavers. Anything short of that, however, is fair game."

A deep frown settled on Aveline's face. "Do what you want, but this sounds fishy to me."

"Begging and taking your pick never went hand-in-hand," said Carver.

"How did you become one of my Uncle's 'contacts'?" Marian said, stance looser.

"Is that what he called me?" Her voice held a laugh. "He owes us after that last big idea. If you work out though... we'll consider it even."

"So this is about getting him out of debt as well," Bethany pondered.

Athenril nodded. "Of course, I wasn't expecting two apostates. He wasn't aware of you, I assume?" I swallowed as her gaze turned on me. No use denying it, I guess.

"...I don't think I was aware of me?"

"Ha! Well, what do you say? Interested in a test run?"

Hawke looked at all of us, and seeing our determine expressions, nodded at the elf. "What do you need done?"

Waving her forward with one hand, the smuggler lowered her voice. "There's a merchant here named Cavril. Friend of the Templars. So they let him set up his little shop here in the Gallows." Here, she turned to face the courtyard, a scowl on her face.

"Oh, I believe we're familiar with him," Aveline said.

"Hm, that should make things interesting. Are you still on speaking terms?"

"He hasn't stopped taking our money yet," she said dryly. That got a grin from the smuggler.

"Good. We were the ones who supplied him, in exchange for a small take of the profits, but now he won't pay up. We can't go near him without him screaming for the guard... But you can."

She faced all of us. "Go to him, and get what we're owed. I don't care what methods you use, but do try to be inconspicuous. Do that, and you're in."

It seemed like that was all we were getting, so Hawke nodded and we all headed back to the main courtyard area. I couldn't help but sigh into my hands.

"Breathe, Sabrina," Bethany instructed.

"At least we'll get a chance to finally take him down a notch," said Carver. "Maybe get him to start making the prices more fair... or else." He cracked his knuckles.

"I doubt it," I said, lifting my head, "But let's go with that."

"Or let's not," Aveline reprimanded. "We're trying to keep from drawing attention, remember? This merchant still supplies everyone in the gallows. We can't just go picking fights with anyone that wrongs us."

"And regardless of that smuggler's influence, he is a friend of the templars," Bethany reminded us, "We don't want that sort of attention so early on. Or ever."

"I'm really getting sick of Templar interference in city affairs," I grumbled.

"Seems we'll just have to get used to it," Carver grumbled as well.

"Flawed political systems, hooray." I gave a sarcastic "wooo" while waving my hands just barely above my head.

Aveline sighed at the both of us.

Cavril came into sight immediately after. He noticed us coming and spread the usual fake smile on his face.

"Welcome again, serah. More food already? Or did you realize you require something else?"

Marian was the one to speak up. "Actually, we're not here for your wares."

"Oh?" His smile withered. "Well, what can I do for you then?"

"I believe you owe your business partner something."

His smile dropped off completely. "Oh, I see."

"Should I go tell the guards?" his bodyguard asked.

"Not just yet." Cavril raised a hand. "I want to hear this." He cleared his throat and looked Marian straight in the eye. A bold move, considering Marian's expectant stare far outweighed his glare.

"So Athenril sent you to collect, did she? Too cowardly to do it herself."

A delicate eyebrow arched over Marian's blue eyes. "The way she told it, you were the one who would have ran."

"Well of course I would have," he said without shame, "I'm a merchant, not a warrior. And she does take on... less reputable jobs. It's not in anyone's best interests to deal with people like that."

"Does that mean you won't pay her?" Marian asked.

"Tell you what," he said, "I'll make you an offer. Let's say, I let you have, oh, two sovereigns, and you go back and tell Athenril that she gets nothing from me, huh? Should set you refugees up for a while until you get a ship back."

The merchant was worse at reading people than he thought, as it was clear to me when Hawke's shoulders tensed. The shaven man just stood with a self-assured stance, waiting for agreement. Hawke turned to the slightly taller redhead beside her.

"Aveline?" Hawke asked, "Would you like to step in, here?"

"Only because this toad deserves it," she said. She walked up to the sleazy merchant, and faster than anyone could react, pulled a dagger on him.

His bodyguards made to move, but when they saw her glare, settled for placing their hands on their sword handles.

"Here's what you're going to do," Aveline said, voice steady as her arm, "You're going to go pay what you owe, or I'm going to beat it out of you, and your men."

"Hey," one of them protested. He looked less confident about his chances when he noticed our group looked ready for battle as well. Well, not me, I seemed to have escaped notice.

"Fine, fine! Take what's in the chest." Aveline moved her dagger away as the merchant growled. He rubbed a hand across his neck, as though checking for marks, before nodding to his guards. "Let someone else sell to these Ferelden dogs."

We watched his group make a beeline for the area where the Guard Captain was.

"We should probably be quick. He didn't look too happy," Bethany said.

"Right. Let's hope it's open," her sister said, surprisingly lighthearted.

It was. No need for lockpicking after all. Odd. Hawke grabbed the sack of coins inside, leaving the papers. When I asked, she said they just looked like the rights to open shop here. We returned to Athenril, everyone keeping an eye out for guards, just in case the merchant felt brave.

Hawke walked in front, calling to Athenril. "The job is done. And I believe this, is yours." She held out her hand with the pouch.

Athenril took it. "Would you look at that." She looked up with a grin, handing the purse off to one of her men. "And no fuss raised with the guards. Nice touch."

"We do our best."

"Tell your uncle we'll make the arrangements. Welcome aboard."

Hawke just nodded.

"We'll contact you again once the bribes are paid. You'll receive a meeting location. All four of you-" she pointed to the Hawke siblings and myself, "-are to come as soon as you reach Lowtown."

"A little eager are we?" Marian's eyes hardened. "I don't believe our friend was included in this little deal." She lifted a hand to gesture at me.

"You're right. But she does want to get into the city as well, doesn't she? Same as your redheaded friend here?"

Athenril smiled in satisfaction as both of us tensed. "Those bribes aren't cheap, as you are aware. But a second mage is just the convincing I needed that you'll all be worth my time. I won't even make the freckled one work. That's what I'm offering, take it or leave it."

Marian seemed to be struggling, so I sidled up to her and whispered under my breath. "I'll be fine. And she's right anyway, I do want to come with you. Maybe if I help, it won't take a full year?"

The taller woman looked down at me, bright blue eyes cloudy with emotion. She looked past me, at Aveline I assumed, and nodded.

"Alright," she said to Athenril, "We'll see you soon. All four of us."

The smuggler just smirked and left the area, taking her men with her.

"Are you sure about this?" Bethany questioned.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Su- ...Not really. But I'll do my best."

"You can't even fight," Carver protested, "How can you help?"

I sighed. "Smuggling is about more than killing people. It's about stealth, subtlety, information gathering and... stuff."

Aveline cocked an eyebrow at me. "How would you know that?"

"...What, I'm not allowed to read about seedy activities?" She shook her head, exasperated. I got the feeling this would be a regular occurrence.

The twins encouraged us to go tell Mama Hawke and Gamlen, so we made our way back to the courtyard.

"Well, any luck?" Gamlen said, standing up from the column he leaned against.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Marian joked.

Bethany nodded, confirming, "Athenril has agreed to help us."

"Excellent." Gamlen's lips lifted. "I'll go see when the bribes can be made." He took his leave, heading back into the city.

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," Aveline lamented.

Marian shrugged. "Well, we'll deal with that when we come to it. For now, we have a way into the city."

"Then we made it," Bethany said, shoulders relaxing, "The voyage is over."

"Now we just have to work for smugglers for a year," Carver grumbled. "I still think the mercenaries were a better choice."

"Too late for that now," Marian chided, "Besides, we're family, we stick together."

She looked around at all of us, and I felt a lump in my throat.

Her mother laid a hand on her shoulder. "Yes," she said, "We'll get through this together."


Finally. We were getting into the city. It was rather awkward to have to wait for Athenril's associate, but eventually they delivered the news, and we were good to go. Ascending the stairs was the most hopeful I'd been for weeks.

When Captain Ewald caught my eye, I gave him a little wave. Unfortunately, it only got a raised eyebrow from him, so I lowered my hand and walked on, eyes on the gates and the city beyond.

Apparently, there was a small channel between the gallows and the main portion of the city, so we all took a small boat across. Carver, Aveline, Marian, and the man who owned the boat all rowed together.

I sat next to Bethany, while Calenhad seemed perfectly content sitting with Leandra.

Soon enough, we were on the fishing docks, a section I assumed was part of Kirkwall's Lowtown. The smell reminded me of Gwaren, except filled with more B.O. and a hint of the rocky cliffs around the city.

"Finally here," Marian said, stretching her arms.

"It seemed like we'd never make it," Bethany agreed.

"You all be careful now," said the boat owner, "It's not an easy city to get a new life started in, unless you've already got connections."

"Thank you, ser," Aveline said.

With his piece said, he tipped his hat and walked to another group of fishermen.

"That wasn't ominous," I muttered.

"We do already have connections," Carver said, "So let's go meet with them."

"Yes. Mother, you go with Calenhad to find Uncle Gamlen. Aveline..."

"You don't need to ask, Hawke," she said, a small smile on her face, "I'll make sure she gets there safely."

They nodded to each other, something unspoken passing in their gaze, before breaking contact.

"Let's go meet our new employer." Marian led the way, and I wrung my hands nervously. This, I was not looking forward to. I had never expected to get dragged into this whole mess, especially not because of magical powers I hadn't even known about until a few weeks ago.

Bethany had been the one to inform me of the date: The twenty-sixth of Wintermarch, the first month of the Thedas calendar. The new year had passed while the Hawkes were getting ready to leave their home. How awful.

I had wondered why the guards in the Gallows had been acting differently. Being outside the walls of the city had stopped much news from coming through, but I heard some celebrations were being set up. It seemed the second month had a holiday of it's own, though I was unfamiliar with it.

Thinking about merriment was only a temporary distraction. When Marian Hawke announced, "Looks like we're here," I nearly froze. I did not want to fight, no matter how much I had tried to assure the siblings I could help. I hoped against all hope I would just be gathering intel or something.

We entered a small house, finding a group of four already inside, Athenril among them.

"You've made it," she said, "And on time too. Good."

She gestured to a few seats nearby. "No point dallying, let's cut straight to the chase."

She barely waited for us to seat ourselves, myself on a chair next to Bethany.

"Here's how it's going to work." Athenril gestured to the others in the room; all elves, now that I looked. "We take whatever jobs seem profitable, within our skill set, and most importantly, discreet. You did a good job with that during your trial run. Keep that up, and there will be less need for combat." She gave us a generous nod.

"Make no mistake though, there will be times you have to fight. If it comes to that, you are to be merciless. We can't have our enemies running around and reporting about what we're up to, and I assume you don't want anyone gossiping with every slob and his nan about the fact he was nearly killed by an apostate."

"I thought you had that under control," Hawke protested.

"We'll do our best," she assured, "And our best is quite good. However, make it too difficult, slip up to too many people, and nothing I do can keep that from reaching the Knight-Commander's ears; aside from killing every gossip and templar in Kirkwall, something that our group is not equipped or willing to do." Her voice was stern, and we got the message. Don't go about flaunting your powers.

"Alright, let's get a little more in-depth." She spent the next thirty minutes or so detailing how they usually operated. Most of what I got was operations were all very hush-hush, with some blood and subtle intimidation to keep people they worked with in line. Sort of like the Gallows merchant.

"Now, we have a couple jobs going on, one of which would be a good start to get you used to how we operate. Leron here, will take you to the meet-up place. We can't have too many of you there so... We'll take you two," she pointed at Marian and Bethany. "Seems like a good balance anyway."

"And what of me?" Carver said.

"You and the other little mage here," she gestured to me, "Need weapons."

"What makes you say that?"

"Haven't seen either of you carry one yet, even here, through Lowtown. So either you're keeping them hidden, or you're thick. Walking around without a weapon in this business is like asking to die."

He grit his teeth but didn't retort. I was amazed at his restraint. "How, exactly, are we supposed to get weapons? We don't have any money, if that wasn't clear."

"Carver," his older sister warned.

"We'll provide some," Athenril said, unflappable. "Can't have our newest recruits walk around ill-equipped."

"My brother does raise an important question." Hawke was leaning towards Athenril. "It's all well and good that you'll provide equipment this way, but if all of our efforts go only to working off this debt, we'll have to pick up side jobs. And I don't much fancy Carver as royal jester, amusing though it may be."

Carver grumbled under his breath as Bethany shoved an elbow into her older sister's side. The resulting grunt silenced Carver. Athenril simply watched, her gaze piercing through Hawke, as though she was running dozens of responses through her head. Finally, she spoke.

"Then you had better work hard." The tension went up so quickly I wondered if bones might break under the strain of their own muscles. "We will, of course, make sure you get a small amount for each job. But quality matters. If you slack off, or consistently act outside our interests, your pay will go down. Do your jobs right, and we'll have no problems."

I exchanged a look with Bethany. Her arms were as tense as mine, usually unseen muscles pushing against the skin. Hawke was the one to answer our new employer with a simple, "Understood."

Athenril waved at Leron and he rose from his seat. Compared to the other three elves in the room, Leron gave off a soft impression. He stood slightly shorter than Athenril, with small, tapered eyes and delicate features. He reminded me of a sunny day on the beach, golden sands which darken with the waves. Appropriately, he dressed like a pirate. His loose tunic showed off a few simple necklaces on his chest, simple hoops pierced his ear lobes, with most of his messy hair held back with a bright cloth, and in some places wrangled into braids.

"Come on then," he said. The Hawke sisters followed, throwing one last glance back before heading out into the town.

"Weapons are back here," said Athenril. "I brought some I thought might suit you."

Carver and I followed her to a back room where there were a few displays and chests, all full with some sort of weapon or armor.

"And you could use some armor," she said to me, "Even if you're not on the front lines, it doesn't mean you'll never get hit. Range does not equal safety."

"Yes," I stuttered, "I know. Thank you." I bobbed my head in agreement, which she seemed to find amusing, and set about finding armor pieces for me while Carver was taking down and swinging some of the two-handed swords.

"What sort of weapon are you use to?" she asked. "I'm assuming some sort of staff?"

I hesitated, making some wordless sounds before pulling it together. "I actually... have no combat- er, weapon training."

"Really? Hm, that makes things difficult. Only used your magic before?"

"I'm a novice at that too..." I shuffled as she looked at me incredulously, "But, ah, Bethany's teaching me!"

"Can't change that. None of my men are qualified to teach magic." She laughed to herself. "However," her voice hardened, "You will be starting weapons lessons with either myself or my men. You will train everyday, for as long as we see fit. Understood?"

I offered a meek yes, already dreading the sessions.

Carver looked on from where he held a long sword meant to be worn at the hip. His eyes held... some emotion, but I couldn't make it out. Relief? Offense? I wasn't sure, but I had expected a snarky comment, and felt nervous at the silence.

The elven woman eventually found some things to outfit me with, including a nice pair of leather boots to replace my running shoes, gloves, and... a thick coat? Athenril noticed my confusion about that piece of so called armor.

"Ah, right. I don't suppose you have any breeches?" She eyed me up and down. "Well, I'll see what I can find, but you'll need the gambeson." As she shuffled through a chest, presumably for pants, I stared at the so-called gambeson.

Thick material dyed a dark grey lay in my hands. It looked just like a winter coat, with simple metal hooks which would hold it closed. Holding it up to myself, I noticed the bottom would reach almost to my knees, but the sleeves, which widened at the end, would barely go past my elbow. Frowning, I looked up, only to jump when I saw Carver right next to me.

"Never worn armor?" He was speaking softly. Athenril was still searching in my peripheral vision, so I shook my head. Carver grabbed one of my hands, making me jump. For some reason, he then proceeded to pull my hand to his chest.

"Um...?"

"This is my gambeson." I looked at his outfit, unsure why he was inviting me to stare. The material was thick beneath my hand. It felt denser than a winter coat; Thicker than the one Athenril had handed me, though his armor had less sleeve than mine did. I had noticed before, but his parchment colored gambeson had no sleeves, showing off his farm boy strong arms.

"Vambraces." Carver pointed to dark vambraces belted on his forearms, similar in looks to the belt around his waist. He also wore simple pants, and over them, sturdy leather boots that turned down at the top.

"And the gorget, though it's... not traditional." He was gesturing with his free arm to the especially thick, honey-colored leather piece that collared his neck and covered part of his upper torso. A pale fur ringed the gorget and, from what I saw at the collar, covered the inside as well.

I took in Carver's whole outfit again. I wondered why he left so much of his arms and legs exposed. Hadn't he been part of the Ferelden army? I pondered the possibility he had been a recent recruit to help stave off the darkspawn.

"If you two lovebirds are finished." Carver and I whipped our heads to see Athenril, eyebrow and hip cocked, with a pair of stitched pants in one hand. I stiffened but Carver pushed away, leaving me to stumble as he went back over to the weapons. Rude.

Athenril was still staring, but I just sighed. She shoved the pants out to me. They looked coarse, and when I rubbed my fingers against the slate blue material that was confirmed, but the pants had good shape.

"Should be good enough, for now. Try them on." I felt like my entire body was slowly pertifying. "This isn't a shop. You get one pair, and you're not exchanging them. Make sure they fit."

I felt the blood drain from my face. A quick look at Carver showed he was facing away from me, examining a set of maces rather intently. Okay, well, it would be like gym. No problem. Glad for the length of my robes, I quickly and discreetly shucked my jeans, folding and placing them to the side. After examining my new breeches, I toed off my shoes, though I stayed standing on them, and slipped my breeches on.

Athenril was tapping her foot now, arms crossed, so I lifted my robes to view the breeches. I buttoned them up, glad the positioning was straightforward, and moved my legs around to get a feel for them.

"Well?" Athenril said, "Looks fine to me."

They did feel alright. Apparently our new boss had a good eye for sizes. They were coarser than my jeans, not by much, but enough to notice. When Athenril looked to speak again, I nodded my head to let her know they were okay.

"Fine. Boots too. And take off that robe."

Balancing on one foot each time, I carefully pulled on the leather boots and laced them up, tying a tough double knot. I dithered on the robes, but gave in again under Athenril's expectant stare. After pulling them over my head, I put them with my jeans and pulled on the dark gambeson instead. It was warm. I reveled in the feeling as I fumbled with the clasps to keep it closed. Then I put on my gloves, having to lace those up, too. They ran just past where my gambeson ended, and were flexible enough for good movement.

"Great. You'll wear this most of the time, unless you need to be more inconspicuous. For that, you can wear your robes." I agreed.

Though she eyed my shoes oddly, I insisted I take them with me, so she shrugged and dumped them in a small sack for me, along with my jeans and the old robes from Flemeth.

"Now, what sort of weapon would you be comfortable wielding? I'm not sure why, but you mages always seem comfortable with staves of some sort."

"I think it's to help conduct magic?" I offered.

She shrugged. "Sure. Is that what you want then?"

"Wouldn't that stand out?" I asked hesitantly.

"Not really. Travelers use similar weapons when they aren't familiar with sidearms, like swords."

When I was still pondering, Carver finally spoke up. "Why don't you use a svärdstav?"

"A what?" I asked.

He pulled an unusual weapon off one of the racks. It had a blade like a one-handed sword, but it's grip was longer, like a spear. "A swordstaff. It has the reach of a staff, with the damage benefits of a sword." He swung it a couple times, though I could tell he wasn't as used to that sort of grip. "It's similar in length to what my twin uses, and familiar enough to Marian and I, so we could always offer some help with stances."

The blade did look cool, but when it came to weapons, I was only as experienced as the average RPG player. I didn't know how weapons actually worked. Still, it would be less conspicuous than carrying a mage's staff in a city run by Templars.

"I'll take your word for it." For some reason he frowned at that, though Athenril just nodded.

"Fine. Cyras has some experience with such weapons. You'll report to him. Who you practice with on your own time is your business. Cyras will report directly to me about your progress." I gulped and nodded at her stern look.

She gave the same look to Carver, but he was already done buckling his chosen sword to his belt.

"Well then, that's all for today. Make sure you're settled in and ready for tomorrow." Her smile grew on her face, lending it the sly qualities of a fox. "Welcome to Kirkwall."


The walk to Gamlen's place was as awkward as I'd felt yet. My grip on the sack with my old clothes got tighter and tighter. Carver was not easy to talk to. Honestly, I wasn't sure he was capable of being social in the best of circumstances. And he was with me.

The swordstaff was an odd weight on my back. I had to be especially careful of where the blade hung, so I was walking with my feet reaching further in front of me than usual. The weapon bounced a little against my butt, though the harness did keep it from being too bad.

"Stop that." I looked over at my grumpy companion. "Just walk like a normal person."

"...What if it cuts my legs?"

He rolled his eyes. "It won't."

"You don't know that!"

He groaned. "For once, can you stop worrying?"

"Stop-? Well I'm sorry that I was thrown into a country I know only a little about, during a Blight, nearly got killed and ran and ended up in another place I know nothing about while also being told-" I looked around and hissed, "-I have super powers which I have to learn to control, but also hide, and I also have to fight and kill-" I took a deep breath and covered my mouth when the thoughts of those dead mercenaries crossed my mind again. Remembering the battle outside the gates, the first one where I'd seen actual people become our enemies, watched them bleed, die-

And just like that battle, Carver grabbed my wrist, yanking me out of my shock. "That's enough."

He pulled me to the side of an alleyway, making sure none of the other Lowtown residents were paying us much mind. As two obvious refugees, no one cared.

"So bad things happened, you can't keep thinking about them. In battle, if a soldier thinks too much, that could get them and their comrades, killed." When I didn't respond, he jerked my hand again. "Do you understand?"

I shook my head at the ground, feeling a wetness in my eyes.

He sighed and looked away, eyes darting over the crowd. "Look, let's just get to Uncle Gamlen's place. Then mother can take care of you." He muttered the last part, using his grip on my wrist to drag me back though the streets. Only when I pulled did he let go, making sure I was still following him.

Though I made sure to keep his feet in sight, my head still hung, and I couldn't lift it any higher than the ground. What did Carver know. He grew up fighting. He was a soldier! How could he ever understand how I feel?

Luckily enough, Aveline was outside the house, and so easy to spot once we got in range. Carver stopped and so did I, watching his boots as he turned to face me. "Well?"

I looked up to see his gesture into the open door, so I walked inside, taking in the interior. I remembered most of this, from the dirty wooden floors and clay walls to the oddly shaped fireplace near the back.

Normally, I would have been worrying about the accommodations-and part of me was, way back in my mind-but most of my thoughts were still swirling from earlier. I couldn't get the thought of killing out of my mind.

Through the haze, I felt a soft, wrinkled hand touch mine. "What's wrong, dear?"

"I don't know," I heard from behind me, "All I did was talk to her, and she suddenly starts freaking out."

I tuned out the conversation and tried to make my way as far into the shabby house as I could. When the hand stopped me, I pulled out of its grip.

The back room of the place was much the same as the main one, with the only exception being the bunk beds holding sagging mattresses and threadbare blankets. After dropping my sack, I cautiously touched one, picking up the cloth to get a good look at all angles, and even brought it to my nose to sniff it. Satisfied the blanket wasn't carrying any detectable diseases or bugs, I wrapped it around my shoulders. It made me feel better, but my head was still exposed. I shifted the blanket up to hang over my head and wrap around my torso. Much better. I then found an adequately clean corner of the room, between the bed frames and the nearest wall, and squatted down, having to take off my swordstaff and toss it in front of me to do so.

I sat there for I don't know how long, just breathing and attempting to clear my mind. When a strong memory came, I tensed, clenching my blanket and knees. But the makeshift tent helped. It kept me warm, and safe.

Eventually, I heard more voices join those outside in the main room. I tried to tune them out and focus on myself. But when one of those voices started talking next to me, that was difficult.

"How long has she been like this?" a soft, high voice asked.

"Ever since she came back," a lower, but still sweet voice answered, "Longer than an hour."

Really? Huh. I hadn't noticed time passing so fast. Though at times I could have sworn night had already fallen.

"Has she said anything?"

"No, nothing. Bethany-"

"I know. Thank you, Mother."

I heard some bodies shifting, and one plopped down next to me. They didn't say anything for a while, which I was grateful for. Eventually, I heard, "Sabrina? Is it okay if I join you?"

She didn't say anything else, so I nodded. That seemed to be enough, since I heard scooting and then the voice was right next to me. "I'm going to touch your arm, is that okay?" I nodded again.

Slender fingers brushed against my upper arm, rubbing a small circle before settling. I felt a warmth from them, like the warm bath water feeling I had gotten before somewhere. It gave me something to focus on, so I turned my head towards it, even though the blanket still obscured my vision.

"May I wrap my arm around you?" I didn't see any reason why not, so I nodded again. The embrace was comforting, and the warmth spread more. I leaned into the person next to me, just letting myself be held.

I wasn't sure how much longer I stayed like that, but I heard other footsteps come and go, and I eventually smelled food, like some sort of stew.

When I shifted, the person next to me let me move, and I raised the blanket enough to peek out. Seeing Bethany next to me wasn't surprising. I waited for her to say something, but she just smiled and rubbed my arm. I sniffed some old snot away and hugged her. The blanket fell over both of our heads, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Do you want something to eat?" I nodded. "Would you like to come with me?" She nodded towards the opening to the main room, but I hesitated, fingering my blanket.

"You can take that with you," she assured me. I hesitated, but shook my head, slowly removing it and placing it on the bed. I felt better, but without the blanket, exposed.

Bethany caught on, I supposed, because she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, watching my face the whole time. I returned the side hug, and she gave me another kind look before leading me into the main room. We came out right next to the fireplace, where Mama Hawke was looking over a large pot of liquid. She smiled at us as soon as we came out.

"It's good to see you, Sabrina." I nodded my head vaguely, not feeling much up to talking. Thankfully, she let it drop. "The soup is ready," she called.

The Marian, her dog, and Uncle Gamlen appeared from the room I hadn't explored. Maybe another bedroom? Bethany and I sat down on a part of the floor with a worn rug. it looked nearly the same color as the floor at this point.

Calenhad loped over to me, sniffed my face, and gave a small whine before settling down on my other side, his head brushing my thigh. Marian sat down next to him after a, "Smells good, Mother."

Their Uncle snorted and settled on a chair just in my peripheral vision. "It smells serviceable. Don't go expecting anything too fancy on our budget."

Mama Hawke shushed him and began handing out filled wooden bowls. I took one, but just stared down into it. I was definitely some meat soup, with what looked like potato, but I couldn't quite place the smell. Fishy maybe? We were in a seaside city. I glanced discreetly around the room, watching as the other drank directly from their bowls. I looked down at my soup and began analyzing the size and number of the chunks floating in it. Eating without a spoon... doable. I meant to sip at it, but instead I ended up just watching the steam curl off it.

Only a few minutes later, the door opened, showing Carver and Aveline walking in.

"Sorry we're late," she apologized. "It's going to take some time to get used to these streets."

Gamlen grunted, but when I looked at him, he was busying himself with his food. Carver had probably left to explore with Aveline soon after dropping me off. I tried to feel some emotion, indignant anger, annoyance, or even shame, but everything felt dulled.

"That's quite all right. Come Aveline, Carver, the soup is ready." Mama Hawke got up and handed them each a bowl. They sat on the floor near us.

Seeing everyone eating, and Mama Hawke's worried look, I tentatively sipped at mine. It wasn't hot enough to burn, but I still only managed a small sip. The soup was just... so salty! I still continued to sip at it though, maybe out of some misogynistic desire to see if the next sip would be as bad as the last.

After a while, I drew some courage and brought a chunk of meat into my mouth. Yup. Couldn't mistake it for anything but fish. Odd to have it in a soup; it's texture was like soggy jerky. Did people make fish jerky? I pondered this as I captured another chunk, and realized it was not potato. It had a similar texture, but the flavour was different. I couldn't describe it, perhaps nuttier, but I did enjoy how it diluted the salt bomb which had exploded in my mouth.

Halfway through my bowl, Aveline spoke up. "Sabrina, how are you feeling?" She stared me eye to eye as I sipped at my meal, unwavering. Of course, of course she wouldn't be uncomfortable or intimidated so easily.

"Fine," I mumbled, surprised at how horse my voice was. I chewed on another root, enjoying the soft crunch on my teeth.

I pretended not to notice the silent communication going on between all the other people in the room; The heat I felt was probably the soup running down my throat.

No one tried to get any more out of me that night, and I just made sure I paid attention to the proper bed assignments.

I was going to be in the same room I had hidden in, the one with the set of triple bunk beds. Leandra and Marian would share one, the younger obviously offering her mother the bottom bunk. That left Bethany, Aveline and I to share the other, and I quickly offered to take the very top, to their surprise. I just didn't want anyone falling on top of me, should the frame not prove stable. Plus, they didn't have much room to sit up. The top afforded me such luxury, since it wasn't right against the roof.

After tugging off my boots, I climbed the rickety ladder carefully, and pulled myself onto the lumpy mattress before collapsing. The frame held, thank God. The mattress wasn't as consistent as I was used to, but at that moment, I didn't care about lumps. I pulled the blanket around me, fluffed the part near my head in an approximation of a pillow, and tried to sleep.


The next morning, I woke with the noise from everyone else waking. I tried to ignore it, and it worked, for a while. They stopped trying to get me up, and I heard them putting armor on and smelled the bland scent of hot cereal cooking.

I fell into a light doze, but awoke again when heavy footsteps came to a stop near the bed, followed by protesting and a lighter pair.

"Brother, she's having a hard time," someone hissed, "We only just got her to join us for dinner, you can't-"

"Look, she can't mope about forever. She has training today, and I'm not taking the blame if she doesn't show up. Wake up!"

I heard the other voice hissing at the man again, but he ignored it. "I know you're awake, get out of bed. You have training at midday, and if you want any pointers to keep from embarrassing yourself, and us, you'll get it in gear. We've only got a few hours until then."

He made a compelling argument. One which might have worked on someone who cared. I grunted, hoping it would be enough to get him to leave. No such luck though.

"Well? Are you- ow!" Pain? I barely peeked an eye open and scooted my head to look down at the ground. Bethany had Carver by the ear and was whispering something fierce to him. It was kind of funny to see him bent over by someone around my mother's height. What a difference half a foot could make.

I groaned and stretched my legs, realizing I felt heavier than usual. When I caught the twins' attention, I grunted again, trying to say I got the message, and waved a few fingers at them to tell them to get out.

"Ah, right, sorry for disturbing you," Bethany said, "Feel free to join us for breakfast, it will be ready soon."

Carver snorted. "You had better." He yelped as Bethany dragged him out of the room, still clutching his ear. I heard raucous laughter once they left, probably from Marian.

Groaning again, I tried to stretch completely, only to realize the beds were too short. Damn. Blearily, I sat up, felt for the ladder with my toes, and climbed down. I stopped just short of the floor and finagled my way onto the lowest bed, grabbing my boots once there. I slipped them on and set about tightening the straps and buckles.

I trod my way to the main room, still trying to stretch my arms above my head.

"Did you sleep in all your gear?" I looked towards the confounded question and noticed Aveline by the fireplace, bowl in hand. "Unbelievable," she muttered, then continued louder, "You ought to take that off before sleeping. It would be more comfortable."

I shrugged. Everything was uncomfortable now. She just sighed and patted the ground next to her.

"I'll help you straighten it out before you go."

"Thanks," I said, sitting down. I didn't want to go train. I would be alright if she never straightened the armor and I could go back to worrying about rain and driving and spring break.

I shivered as my body adjusted to the warmer temperature near the fire, and gratefully accepted the bowl handed to me.

Breakfast was bland, both the actual food and the conversation. I didn't join in, too exhausted, in every way, to actually care.

Aveline did help with my armor after we ate, making sure the buckles and ties were correctly placed and fastened on each piece. She had to undo and tighten some tie I had missed on the sides of my gambeson. They acted like a belt, cinching extra cloth around my waist. When I went to tighten my hair though, the tie snapped. I looked at it forlornly. There was no way I was going out there without putting my hair back.

"Here." Aveline held out a small leather strap. "This should do, for now."

The strap itself was made of several smaller leather straps woven together to form something stronger. I took it with a quiet "thank you," testing the material between my hands. It wouldn't work like mine, but surely it wasn't too hard too tie hair back.

I tried several times to make it as tight as I needed, growing more frustrated with each attempt.

"Let me," Aveline offered, but I stubbornly shook my head.

I finally took my hair, twirling it around a few times at the back of my head to make a messy bun before wrapping the strap around it and tying the end together. It wasn't very stable, but it was the best I was currently going to get. I heaved a sigh.

The Hawke siblings were already by the door, and though I meant to join them, I found I couldn't move. My stomach was churning, and I felt like the bland porridge was jumping on my duodenum. A firm hand fell on my shoulder, and I had to look up to see Aveline's freckled face.

"You'll do fine," she assured. "We'll all be here when you get back."

With her other hand, she held out my new weapon. "Don't forget this."

I stared at it for a few moments, debating running back to the room and hiding in my bunk. Instead, I took the swordstaff and carefully placed it in it's holster on my back.

Calenhad intercepted me on my way to the door, giving me a sad look with a whine, ears drooping.

"Now don't cry to her, you big baby," Marian said, a light tone not quite matching the tense set of her eyes, "You know why you can't come. Stay here with Mother, for now."

The hound whined again, nudging at my leg. I swallowed, despite my throat feeling smaller than usual, and squatted to give him a proper hug.

"Bye sweet puppy," I whispered. He leaned his head on my shoulder in a dog snuggle. That lent warmth to my heart, especially when I stood up and he pawed at me. "I know, I'll miss you. Be back soon okay?"

He looked at me, then back at Marian, and groaned, eyes pleading. I pet his head.

"We'll be back soon," Marian assured, "Let's go."

Reluctantly, I pulled away and followed the siblings back into the city, the door slam sounding too final.


The haze which followed me through the morning was only interrupted partway through weapon training. I remembered we had all walked through the city back to Athenril's original meeting place, where I had then been separated from the others. One of the other smugglers-an elven man, short, with unbelievably sharp features- whose name I couldn't remember, had given me a rundown on how he was going to teach me. Simon? Silas? Usually, I was an excellent student, but I felt like everything was flowing around me instead of into my brain.

So when he stopped talking and demonstrating, asking me to draw my own weapon, I blanked. Heat crawled up my belly into my throat and on my tongue, preventing me from asking what I was suppose to be doing. The elf seemed to get the gist though, as he sighed.

"I knew you were a novice, but I thought you had at least held a weapon before."

I cleared my throat. "You mean, for actual combat? I mean, no one ever taught me the difference in... posture and grip and stuff..."

He lifted his head, topaz orange eyes narrowing. "Have you even been paying the slightest bit of attention?"

I tried to keep my expression under control, but shame settled heavy in my chest and couldn't help wrapping an arm around myself.

He scoffed. "Look, shem, I'm assigned to teach you. That means you pay attention, try the techniques, and leave, eventually, able to defend yourself."

Wait, he thought this was because of-? That wasn't right!

"That's not-" but I couldn't continue. I wanted to correct him, but the words wouldn't come out. Stuck in my throat, I couldn't figure out a way to make them sound assuring, and not just like excuses. He didn't give me time anyway, waving his hand about.

"Don't care. Draw your weapon." This time, I did as I was told.

My instructor went through several sets, making me try them over and over as he corrected my grip, my stance, my body posture, and everything else he could think of. He demonstrated each technique with his own weapon, lithe muscles rippling under his tawny brown skin, looking infinitely more graceful than I did, I was sure.

By the time he finally let me go, my hands were sore. Though I couldn't see my hands through the gloves, a burning sensation flared up in the spots where I gripped my swordstaff. My muscles shook as well. Who knew it would take so much effort to do drill sets?

"That was adequate, for the first time." The elf walked over to an area with sharpening equipment. "But your endurance is pitiful. If you really want this to be worth your time, you'll train on your own. Run, lift cargo, build up your strength. I want you to do exercises that will work your muscles and your breath, alongside your drill sets. Understood?"

He adjusted the messy bun most of his wavy black hair was pulled into, giving me a good view of his long pierced ears. Now that I wasn't in such a haze, or concentrating on how much I hated physical activities, I noticed my instructor also had a short braid hanging by his left ear. When I saw the scar on the side of his lips stretch with his frown, I realized I had never answered his question.

"Yes."

"What was that?"

"Uh, yes! Yes I'll, do my best. Find a partner to work with..."

"Fine, fine." He waved me off. "You're done for today. Go find Athenril. She's in the front room."

"Yeah. Bye." I left quickly and closed the door, heading through one open room to the front of the house. This training was going to be awful. I had always quit whatever sports my dad made me join, and for good reason. I hated them. Running myself into the ground for some vague goal of "winning" was never appealing for me. So you can run faster or kick a ball better than other people. Big deal. A squeezing feeling grasped my lungs, which I did my best to breathe around.

Athenril was waiting in the front room, just as my instructor had said. The Hawkes were not.

"So, Cyras is done with you, is he? Good, then you can start on your next task. The others are already on assignment."

She moved a couple sheets around on a nearby table while I contemplated if I should act more or less tired. One the one hand, being more tired might get me out of the job. But it might also make me seem incompetent, and she might make me train more. Decisions, decisions.

"Here." She grabbed a paper and offered it to me. "It's just a small part of a job, but we need intel on this man. Nathaniel Howe. Apparently he's talking to people he shouldn't be, and we can't get close enough. No one around here knows you, though. This is a list of places he's seen most often."

Several lines of text covered the paper. Text I couldn't read because apparently their alphabet consisted of symbols I had never seen. Heck, they might not even use it like an alphabet!

"Find him, and keep on him for a couple hours, or until you feel you would be too noticeable. Report back on what he's been up to. Easy, right?"

"Sure." I stared at the paper in barely veiled horror. Okay, okay, no, calm down. You can... you can find one of the Hawkes and get them to translate it! Yeah, just have to figure a way to do it without being suspicious.

"Memorize it." I lifted my head, eyes widening. "Well, you're not taking it with you. It may not be sensitive info, but if someone gets their hands on it, they will ask questions. Questions you will not be able to answer. So memorize the locations then head out."

I glanced back down and ran my eyes frantically over the symbols. There was no way I could memorize them all in time.

When Athenril began tapping her foot, I hastily handed the paper back, assuring her I was done. Before leaving the house, she gave me a brief description of the man, making sure I could identify him. With one final look at me, like she was waiting for some sort of reaction, she dismissed me. Outside the door, the briney sea smell greeted me, something I was still getting used to.

Sure I was doomed, I headed off into the city. I considered going back to the smugglers' hideout and asking for a few locations, but my own battered pride reared up. I had been useless thus far, just riding on the good graces and luck of the Hawke family.

I wasn't sure if I should even be here, trying to help with smuggler's work. Reading was a skill I had always treasured, and now it meant nothing. I was crap at learning other languages. Urgh, if I could find a way home, I could get out of everyone's hair.

I wandered the city for a time, trying to understand the layout of Lowtown. It felt like trying to remember the dirtiest, shittiest theme park layout in existence. Weren't the streets designed to confuse the slaves who used to be kept here? To keep them from rallying or getting organized; Something like that.

As I pondered how lost I could get, I turned a corner and ran smack into someone. A man, by the grunt. "I-I'm so sorry!" I sputtered. Briefly, I noticed I had wandered around to the area of the Hanged Man, the most popular tavern in the game, and a hub for party quests and information. I also noticed I could look right over the man's head to see it, because he was a dwarf. Probably why I didn't notice him in the first place.

"Don't worry about it," I heard the man chuckle.

The voice prompted me too look down, and I immediately froze.

"Though it's not usual for me to bump into humans that are still sober. Not around these parts."

Yup. It was him. A clean-shaven dwarf with light blonde hair, an unbuttoned tunic, and a heavy crossbow slung across his back. Varric Tethras.

"Of course, you don't look so good yourself," he continued, "Heading in for a drink?"

My gaze flickered to the building briefly, noticing, for the first time, an art piece which actually looked like a dead man swinging upside-down from a noose over the front doors. Fantastic.

When I turned back, he was scrutinizing me. "Are you new around here? I don't think I've seen you before." I tried to stutter some sort of response, which just made his smile grow. "Varric Tethras, at your service." He offered me a hand, which I took out of habit and shook. I then remembered I needed to give him my name. Oh god, that's right, I shouldn't be going by my real name. Wasn't that dangerous when you were trying to be undercover, or gossip, or whatever the hell my smuggler boss wanted me to do?

"I'm S- uh, Marie. Just, call me Marie. Please."

The dwarf raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't ask, though I got the feeling he could see right through me. At least he wasn't a mind reader. There was that.

"Why don't we head in, huh? My treat."

I was immediately suspicious, and it must have shown on my face. He chuckled again and shrugged. "What? Can't let a newcomer to our fair city go without an introduction to this fine drinking establishment here."

I managed a nod and squeaked out a "Thank you," which only amused him more.

As he held the door open for me, I wondered what the hell was happening.

The inside of the Hanged Man was much like I remembered from the game. Walls with bright, open windows and occasional graffiti from the rebellion stretched into a high ceiling. Roaring fireplaces keeping the place warm and well lit, alongside simple chandeliers and wall mounted lanterns. The warmth was welcome after the chill of January sea air. Or whatever they called their first month.

Varric headed straight for the bar, the waitress there turning to greet him before being called by another patron.

"Give us your finest ale, serah!"

The bartender rolled his eyes, though there was a small smile on his face as he went to retrieve said alcohol. Varric turned to me, one arm resting on the counter. He was just tall enough. A smile leaked onto my face, but I kept it under control and polite.

"So, what's your business here? Aside from escaping the Blight."

Wait, this was perfect! Varric knew everyone in the city, right? He could help me, I was sure. "I'm, actually looking for someone right now," I said, standing next to him.

He tilted his head. "And who might that be?"

The bartender interrupted us with the arrival of the drinks, so we each took ours, hesitantly on my part, and I followed the dwarf to a table near a fireplace. After I settled into a chair, and sighed at the warmth, I answered.

"Nathaniel Howe. He's about five feet ten inches tall, black hair, I think in his late twenties?"

He hummed. Since he seemed to be thinking, I took the time to sip at whatever was in the glass. It tasted like honeyed piss, but it was the first, actual, non-broth liquid I'd had in days, so I swallowed and took another sip.

"Now I'm not completely on the up and up with Ferelden nobility, but that sounds like the eldest child of the Rendon Howe." I nearly choked. Nobility? "The Blight seems an odd time for daddy dearest to call his eldest son back home."

My neck heated and guts clenched as Varric leaned towards me and lowered his voice. "So the question is, why is Athenril interested in him now?"

I could feel all the muscles in my face loosen in shock. I was surprised my mouth wasn't hanging open. Varric knew alright, but he knew way too much.

"How-?"

"I'm a professional." His smile looked harder now, his eyes boring into mine. "And you didn't answer my question."

I desperately shook my head. Dammit, I couldn't afford to be on poor terms with him. "I don't know," I whispered desperately, "I just learned about this like, an hour ago."

"Fresh off the ship, huh?" He pondered and took a gulp of his own drink.

My teeth tugged at the loose skin on my bottom lip, peeling some and causing a copper taste to enter my mouth. The salty tang brought back some memories I tried to suppress, hands shaking, as I took my own gulp of the nasty alcohol. I couldn't do this alone.

When I set the mug down, I looked him straight in the eye. "Please," I said, voice rougher and full of more emotion than I had intended, "I need your help."

He looked at me for a moment, swirling his alcohol around in his mug. "Well, when you ask like that, how can I say no? Let's go find tall, dark and gloomy."


A/N: Hoooooboy. Writing sure is fun guys. I'm totally not tired, nope. But hey! We finally reached my all time favorite DA character OF ALL TIME (all tiiiiimmme). I think we can all agree on Varric's greatness. I love love love writing him, he's so fun, but he's also the one I worry about the most. I want to make sure I'm portraying him well.

So, as always, shout at me! I've been loving the comments, each and every one. Especially when y'all point out little tidbits you liked and/or noticed. So tell me what you thought, or give me predictions, or point out ways to improve. I love it all.

Next chapter: Looking for important characters Sabrina doesn't know! Saying things she shouldn't! And Varric being way more observant than Sabrina is counting on! Coming (probably) after Camp NaNoWriMo and I finish packing moving and unpacking!