Chapter Two

Milva

The Warden Commander of Ferelden had left Denerim under the cover of the night, accompanied by her faithful war hound, Hatchi. It was with a heavy heart that she had bid her farewell to her beloved Alistair. Although she was accustomed to being separated from him, it was never a joyful moment.

The mabari was happily trotting beside the chestnut mare she rode. Milva had chosen to follow the main road to Vigil's Keep, taking advantage of the bright moon and stars to guide her. It was a necessary stop to pass on her last orders to Nathaniel before she would set on her long journey to Redcliffe.

The path was deserted, folks were still wary of travelling by night, which did not displease her, on the contrary. The less eyes would see her, the better it was. Maybe it was paranoia speaking, or maybe it was knowledge gathered during many years. Chantry, Grey Warden, Nobles, … The more she knew about the powerful ones, the more it seemed they functioned all in a similar way. Recruit, groom followers at a young age, leash them with lyrium, lock them in Circles, desecrate their bodies with the taint, dangle the promise of rising their living standards, pick your favourite. Make sure they cannot leave, and crush any attempt to change the system. Folks soon believe this is the only way it could be, and stop protesting altogether.

The Dalish had always done her best to take care of her people, shielding them from higher Command who had frowned upon her being so involved in Amaranthine politics. She had been bestowed a arling, what the hell was she supposed to do? Yes, she worked with Constable Aidan to ensure the smugglers would not come back, yes she helped the farmers rebuild what they had lost to the straggler darkspawn, yes the Grey Warden were still maintaining a presence along the trades routes so the city and the keep would not be cut-off once more. The have had a massive increase in recruit numbers following their victory, enough to ensure the region was kept under control, darkspawn or not.

She sighed. Even if the First Warden was not too pleased with the Grey Warden of Ferelden being so involved, he did not deign to come in person or send representatives to stop her. Only passive-aggressive letters, to which she responded that being in the folks' good papers could only be beneficial to the bloody Wardens. Well, she did not really write bloody, but she might as well have.

So yes, she was deeply convinced that if Weisshaupt would hear about her new goal, they would not be too happy about it.

She yawned and stretched her arms, slowing down her horse to allow her some respite. Vigil's keep was about a day and some from Denerim and she had ridden all night. Hatchi also welcomed the stop. Milva listened carefully, looking for the sound of the small stream she knew flowed nearby. After a few moments of complete silence, save for her four legged companions' deep breaths, she pinpointed the location. She dismounted and gently led her mare to the fresh water.

As the horse and Hatchi quenched their thirst, the elf rummaged in her brigandine's inside pockets and pulled out a creased letter. She read it again under the moonlight:

My dear friend,

Long has passed since the last time I heard from you. Hence my surprise when I received your missive. I did say "if you ever need me", didn't I? I thought these things expired after a decade, but well, here we are!

I jest. I could feel the urgency in your words so I will not keep you in the dark for too long. I may have a way of getting you where you desire without attracting much attention. Let me contact yet another old friend, and meet me in 'your' city, you know which one, in a fortnight. I should have everything ready by then.

I cannot hide that the prospect of accompanying you again on a lost cause warms my heart. I always was a softy, well deep inside.

Yours sincerely,

You know who.

Milva smiled just like she had the first time she read her friend's words. So dramatic! They had seen each other over the past ten years, albeit not directly working together. She guessed it would not have sounded as theatrical if he had acknowledged it. She always had a soft spot for the 'retired' Crow. Was it his difficult upbringing? His suave words? His undying loyalty after she had protected him, twice? Who knows.

She had kept his involvement secret to protect him. He was still on the run after having struck many deep blows in the Antivan Assassin Guild's heart and although he knew very well how to not be found, she did not want to add to the already increasing pressure. It was not like her to hide things from Alistair, but it was necessary in this particular case.

The Warden folded the letter back into her pocket and readied herself for the remaining leg of her journey. Dawn was about to break and there was still a long way before she would be shielded by the strong walls of Vigil's Keep.

"Are you sure about this, Warden Commander?" the tall, dark haired man facing her insisted. He displayed genuine concern on his delicate features, a testament of his noble origin.

"Milva, please Nathaniel, just call me Milva" the elf lamented. "Yes, I am sure about this. I thank you for your concern, but my mind is made."

He sighed, although he knew better than pushing the matter further. She offered him a smile as an apology, accompanied by a gentle pat on his shoulder.

"You will do great," she reassured him. "Anyone here would agree that you run this place already and I will always be grateful for it."

It was true. She was not one to stay idle in a Fort, but would rather be in the field. Her Dalish upbringing certainly had something to do with it. She had always felt suffocated when walled in the crowded keep or the estate at Denerim for too long.

"Only because I had the best mentor," he smiled in return. "Do send word, should you need anything," he added.

"Will do," she replied, nodding. "I should be on my way, I have a long journey ahead"

"Of course. I will have a new horse readied for you."

They briefly hugged, and Milva left without looking back.

The docks, midnight

It was the briefest letter she had ever read. How had he found her, she had no clue. She had dyed her hair chestnut and squarely trimmed them, travelled under a false name and obviously was not wearing the ostensible Warden crest. Great was her surprise when she found the short note, openly displayed on the bed she occupied at the Crown and Lion. She was lucky the inn had changed ownership very recently, or a new haircut would not have been enough to fool the former keepers.

She swept the room, half expecting to see the assassin show up from under the bed or behind the privacy screen. That would have been very much in character.

But there was no one to be seen or heard, so she set to ready herself. It sounded like she would not come back to the inn, so she could not leave anything behind. Hatchi was wagging his short tail expectantly, as if he was looking forward to seeing the half-Dalish again.

"Soon, my friend," Milva whispered, patting his large head.

They climbed down the stairs and the elf bought food supplies for the journey ahead, under the suspicious look of the innkeeper. Who would restock in that Makerforsaken hour? he must have thought. He did not comment, however, too happy to receive the coin.

Milva stepped out of the Inn, Hatchi in her stride. Her mind was racing. Will they be traveling by sea? If not, why meeting at the docks? What if the note was a trap? She crossed that last thought. It seemed too unlikely with all the precautions she took.

She picked up her horse from the stables and led him on the silent cobblestone street up to the small gate beside the northern portcullis. The City guards did not stop her, they were accustomed to seeing travelers and merchants come and go. Plus, she was leaving, and not entering. She nodded politely, they returned the gesture, and that was it.

The docks were hustling and bustling, providing a striking contrast to the inner city she had just left behind. Strong built men and women, burdened with crates of various shapes, were walking up and down the dockside, loading or unloading their precious cargo.

As Milva moved hastily between the busy folks to reach the more quiet and far end of the dock. She suddenly had that creeping feeling she was being followed. The hair on her lower neck was raised, and she tensed up, hand slowly moving to her daggers, ready to act.

"Took you long enough," chuckled a soft singing voice with an unmistakable Antivan accent.

She smiled, but did not turn to face the source of the voice just yet.

"I only wanted to see for how long you could refrain from ambushing me"

"And risk a dagger in the heart? No, thank you. I am grateful you spared me once already, I do not wish to push my luck"

"Since when are you so cautious?" She finally turned to meet his eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"Since my survival now depends on just that, being cautious," he winked.

Milva took a moment to observe Zevran under the dancing torch light. His features were unchanged, as refined as always and resisting age, a trait many elves shared. His chocolate brown tattoos were still running alongside his cheek, flowing from the corner of his eye to his chin. Despite the light spark in his dark eyes, she could feel the burden of a life forced to live in the shadows, always looking above one's shoulder.

"Satisfied with what you see?" He asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Always," she answered in a soft voice, cracking a smile.

They stood silent for a moment, still gauging each other. Then, upon a silent accord, they wrapped their arms around each other in a warm embrace.

"It is good to see you, my friend," Milva whispered. "I cannot thank you enough for putting your cover at risk to help me"

"This is what I signed up the moment you decided to not get rid of me after my failed assassination attempt, " he replied, letting go of her so he could see her face.

"You do not owe me Zev', if anything, you earned your freedom ten times over when you helped defeat Urthemiel."

"Did I? Braska! If I would've known that, I wouldn't have showed up!" He jokingly replied.

She drew an indescribable comfort from realising that he had not changed one bit. Since Duncan had set foot in her Dalish camp, her life had been a never-ending whirlwind. Her only anchor was Alistair, and they spent most of their time apart. She made the right call when she contacted Zevran.

"I hate breaking up this heartwarming reunion, but we have to set sail without delay!"

Milva made a sudden about-turn, startled by the intrusion, and cautiously weighed up the woman who just spoke. She overflowed with confidence, resting against a pile of crates, arms crossed on her chest and a defiant smile on her painted lips. Her wavy hair was tamed under a blue bandana with detailed patterns, on the top of which proudly rested a leather tricorn with golden threads. She was wearing a long and heavy coat, the same blue as her head scarf, with gold and silver ornaments. Dark brown leather thigh boots made her look taller than she was, golden necklaces decorated her neck and jewelled earrings dangled from underneath her mane. She was stunning.

"You are staring, love," interjected the pirate.

"Isabela?" the elf simply asked.

"In the flesh! But you've figured that out already judging by how you scrutinised me"

"I apologise, it's just that, well, I didn't expect to see you."

"Don't worry, we'll have all the time in the world to catch you up! Board first, chat later."

Seemingly satisfied with her entrance, the pirate swiftly turned and walked away on the wooden ramp leading to her vessel. It took Zevran to gently squeeze Milva's arm to pull her out of her thoughts.

"You heard the admiral," he said. "Let's go, I will explain."

A crew member quickly came to take her horse and board it onto another ramp leading to the ship's hold. When the looked at Hatchi, Milva shook her head.

"He comes on board with me"

The sailor politely nodded and jogged away to finish preparing for departure. Zevran walked towards the ramp and the Hero of Ferelden followed on the assassin's heels, still flabbergasted by the turn of events.

This story just took on a life of its own. I have no idea where this will lead, but it is fun writing about these characters. Feedback is always welcome, especially regarding my writing since English is not my native language. I struggle with choosing the correct tense sometimes so any pointer is welcome!

Thank you for reading,

Truckette