Standard Disclaimer: Bioware owns all Dragon Age characters and in game content. I own the bits that are left.
Chapter 15 – When Day Meets Night
9:19 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 9 years after Neria (now 9) was found
Neria found herself stifling her sobs as the halla burned on the pyre the templars had helpfully setup for her. The gentle creature had finally died of old age and there was nothing that Neria could do with all her powers of healing to extend its life. She could not even give voice to the sorrow she felt inside as she could not expose the lie that she had been keeping for the past two years. With the halla gone, all the last remnants of her old life were gone.
Last year, a year after her "accident" with the Fire Bomb, Neria had approached Greagoir about getting "miraculously cured" but he had demurred, citing the Divine's crack down on blood mages as the reason for not letting her "recover" her voice. This year, they had just executed an apprentice who had become an abomination after failing his Harrowing. Greagoir had asked for her patience and endurance as all the templars at his Harrowing were on edge and should not be subjected to further strain. Thus, it was that two years after her "accident", Neria was still "mute".
Anders held her tenderly in his arms as she wept silently while Jowan stroked the back of her hands. Aneirin was looking distinctly uncomfortable with her emotional display, eyes darting here and there, as he silently observed the surroundings. Veness was patting her back, whatever was not blocked by Ander's arms, absently and frowning thoughtfully at Anders. When the fire had finally been reduced to a smouldering heap, Anders squatted and dried Neria's tears with a handkerchief. "Come, sweetie, it would not have wanted you go on so." He smoothed her beribboned hair comfortingly. "It had already lived five years longer than it would have in the wild. Remember that book you showed me?"
Neria nodded. One surprising circumstance of her "losing" her voice and stopping classes to study the books in the library was that she had become an avaricious reader. It happened very gradually, as Neria deviated from the books that she was assigned to read to books about the Dalish, Elvhenan, Arlathan, Tevinter Imperium, Antiva, Orlais, Orzammar, Par Vollen, Qunari, Seheron or about any other subject that piqued her interest. Irving did not discourage her scholarly pursuits and her fascination with the world beyond the walls of the Circle Tower grew.
"Come on, sugar, we should get in and have dinner before the greedy monsters inside eat all the food." Anders chucked the little girl under her chin. She wrinkled her nose but gave him an unsteady smile before turning to walk into the Circle Tower.
"I could give you the power to bring the halla back?" The Pride demon said while watching her walk aimlessly through the Fade. Neria knew that she could manipulate the Fade into any scene she wanted but she preferred the clean, uncluttered look of the Fade in its natural state.
"Pfft! Please… You think I would give up my body for it? I mean, yes, I love it. But seriously? Is it that best you have today?" Neria dismissively waved her hands. "Just leave me alone won't you?"
"I can't help myself." It followed behind her, eyes narrowed threateningly at the Desire demon that sought to cross her path. The lesser demon shrugged her shoulders and went to look for greener pastures not occupied by such a formidable foe.
"What? Do you love me?" Neria joked, paused then whirled to face the Pride demon that had been hounding her dreams constantly for the past two years. "That cannot happen right? I mean demons cannot love?"
"I do not know this love that you speak of." It replied, puzzled by her choice of words. "I merely wish to have the greatest prize ever seen in the Fade barring the Old Gods."
"You can approach the Old Gods in the Fade?" Neria asked with avid curiosity. She had read about them in both the Chant of Light and the Grey Warden chronicles.
"Unfortunately, they are in deep slumber and may not be roused." It answered evenly. "Thus, they are of no use to us."
"Why do you need my body anyway?" Neria questioned. "With your powers, you should be able to leave the Fade anywhere the Veil is thin, right?"
"Alas, our ability to manipulate your world is limited in our form." It responded evenly. "We need a body in order to better channel our abilities. A mage is the best vessel."
"Well, you will have to do better than what you have been offering for me to willingly be a vase." Neria teased.
"What would appeal to you? Power?"
"Pfft? I'm nine years old what would I do with power?"
"Love?"
"Hello? Nine year old mage? Mages aren't allowed to love you know?"
"Family?"
"Everyone in the Circle Tower is my family. I really don't need any more relatives to give me a headache that I do not need."
"Freedom?"
Neria paused. "Freedom to do what? I have the most freedom granted to any mage in the Circle Tower having already finished all my magic training."
The Pride demon sensed the lie and pounced. "The freedom to leave and not be hunted?"
"I think that is pretty weak." Neria replied with laughter in her voice. "I strongly doubt that the templars will let an abomination run free in the land." She sighed. This was a game they played nightly. It would throw out half-hearted taunts and she would jokingly consider them. After the night of her "accident", the Pride demon had been very careful not to raise her ire.
It sighed, stretching out the arms of the man whose form it was fond of assuming. "Nearly dawn. Do you want to wake up or laze in today?"
"I think I will laze in. I could use the excuse of being excessively sad due to the halla's death to miss this morning Chantry session." Neria yawned. "Goodness! Just thinking about it makes me tired."
"That is pretty impious of you." The Pride demon said with an even tone.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I believe in the Maker and can probably recite the Chant of Light backwards but all that 'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond.' rubbish? Pfft! Just seems to be too much of an overstatement to me." Neria sighed. "I just enjoy being here and being able to talk. You know that I can't when awake. Greagoir has not allowed me to 'recover' my voice yet."
"I find this deceit unnecessary." It stated with conviction. "Your voice is lovely."
"Pity it's the voice of a much older me." Neria tilted her head at the demon. "You know, you are pretty reasonable for a Pride demon. The books went on and on about how you are the most fearsome of all the demons and how intelligent your kind is."
"Oh?" The Pride demon noticeably straightened with arrogance. "There are books about us?"
"Of course there are! Although, most of them are just full of warnings against making friends with demons." Neria turned around again. "Is that what we are?"
"Friends?" The Pride demon was intrigued. "I do not know of that concept."
"No? I noticed that you have been warning other demons away from me." Neria pointed out in her frank way. "I thought you might be… Well, that you might have come to care for me in some way."
"I…" The Pride demon did not know what to make of this line of questioning. "I have no concept of such human emotions." Shaking its head, it continued. "I'm merely warning them off my claim."
Neria raised a brow. "You don't own me."
"Not yet. But I will." The Pride demon stated with certainty.
"Well, I would wish you luck with that if it would not be counterproductive to my continual wellbeing." Neria chuckled at the bewildered look on the Pride demon's face. "Do you have a name?"
"A name? I'm Pride." It looked utterly confused at this point.
Neria rolled her eyes. "You and how many hundreds of you?"
"I believe that there are many tens of thousands of Pride demons if that is your question." The Pride demon replied, clearly baffled.
"Since you are my personal Pride demon, do I get to name you?" Neria asked, looking up at it with her signature puppy dog eyes.
"I…" The pride demon paused. "Why are you looking at me that way?"
"It's something I do to get my way." Neria continued to direct that pleading look at it. "Is it working?"
"I…" The Pride demon stuttered before heaving a reluctant sigh. "What do you wish to call me?"
"Hmm…" Neria tapped her chin as if thinking hard even though she had long found the perfect name. "Beolagh?"
"Beolagh." It considered thoughtfully before glancing at her guileless face. "I like it. You may call me that."
Neria flashed a brilliant smile at the Pride demon and smothered the laugh that was threatening to escape her. "Beolagh it is then." She woke herself before he could say anything further. I wonder whether it will get angry if it ever finds out that Beolagh means foolish pride.
-0-
9:19 Dragon Age, Antiva City – 9 years after Zevran (now 16) was bought by the Crows
Zevran had thought that the humiliation and pain Master Frediano took in sodomising him was bad. The Master had not even taken the time to prepare him but roughly shoved into him like he was some hole in a wall. He had to seek a healer afterwards due to the discomfort and was told that it was fortunate he did, otherwise, he might not have been able to properly discharge his waste in the future. Thereafter, every time Master Frediano summoned him, Zevran made sure that he prepared himself sufficiently to prevent injury. The Master had been delighted at his foresight thinking it to be acquiescence to their interactions.
After they started lessons on dominance, bondage and other forms of torture, he found himself beginning to enjoy performing the acts and having them performed on him. He had never understood why the whores at Moaning Marta had moaned with such ecstasy when restrained, whipped or cut but experiencing it himself, gave him an added perspective. It appealed to a side of him that sought control and the freedom of losing it. It was his mood or the person he was with that changed his standpoint and as with everything else, he was very flexible. It was sheer pleasure whichever way he found himself in. After all, the possibility of him dying young was a very real prospect. He should take his pleasures when and where he could.
Once that became his philosophy for life, Zevran easily sailed through the Seduction stage of the Crow's training. He faced humiliation with a ready smile and relished the pleasure that pain brought, earning him the title of man-whore among the recruits. It did not faze him but only encouraged him to widen his boundaries further. After all, he now had a reputation to keep up. The parts of him that might have given a damn were locked behind the thick walls he had built up around his other self and the key thrown away. Zevran deemed it unlikely that they will ever escape given his incredible lack of skills in lockpicking.
He had passed the Seduction stage of Crow training by seducing and extracting information from a target's own sister. The victim had naïvely thought that he could hide from the Crows in a distant relative's remote country house. Zevran had been sent in disguised as a servant in his sister's household. He had caught the eye of the old matriarch within a day. With a week, he had insinuated himself into her trusted circle and was sent to deliver a weekly allowance and message to the target. He never returned and the Crows received the full payment for the contract.
Seducing a woman old enough to be his grandmother was certainly an experience for Zevran. He was only able to complete the act, no pun intended, as he had felt sorry for the old lady. He had mocked himself over it after that. After all, the old matron was rich, politically connected and still quite handsome. She was only very lonely. It was a lovely problem to have, far more so than most of the people living from hand to mouth in the slums.
Once all the stages of his training were completed, Zevran had requested to be immediately put through the trials that granted him full Crow status. Master Frediano had refused initially, claiming that he was too young to survive the trials and needed additional training. However, after several very vigorous rounds of sex, Zevran succeeded in persuading him.
The initial trials were simplistic, he had thought, merely requiring a recruit to plan and execute a mission as if he was already a Crow. His mission was to eradicate a Senior Enchanter who had stepped on one too many toes. Extra points would be given if he managed to eliminate him using Chantry resources.
Perching on a ledge high enough to see into the mage's quarters but shadowed so no one saw him, Zevran was randomly disturbed by swarms of insects released by mages in the employ of the Guildmaster, poisonous snakes, scorpions, poisoned arrows, bolts and daggers. It was, well, not to put too fine a point to it, irritating and painful. It was what they were meant to do. Irritate or distract enough so that he would give away his position. However, Zevran made not even a hiss of pain each time. Stoically taking antidotes or slapping on health poultices while focusing on the target, Zevran was too engrossed in learning all that he could of the target.
Eventually, to evade the continued random attacks, Zevran disguised as a servant and ingratiated himself to the head housekeeper within the Antivan Circle. It was a mere matter of days observing the target's interaction with others that Zevran came up with his plan. He stole a poison created by one of the target's new colleague, with whom he had an extremely hostile relationship.
Using it on a templar he had witnessed in a very compromising position with a much too young mage, Zevran waited for the colleague to raise the hue and cry over her lost poison before allowing the discovery of templar's body. The poison was eventually found within the target's possessions and the Chantry had him executed. That part of his trials, Zevran passed with flying colours.
It was the endurance trials that started to cause disquiet in Zevran. He was brought to Velabanchel for this part of the trials and he could still remember his previous stay with unease. However, he alleviated his foreboding by reassuring himself that he was different now. After all, he found pleasure in pain now. How difficult could the tortures be?
After a week in a hole in the ground with no more room than to stand, water and food randomly thrown down that were sometimes poisoned and sometimes not, Zevran was beyond exhaustion and was starting to have serious doubts about the pleasure in pain theory he had motivated himself with. He wanted to just wolf down the food provided but knew that it could mean the end of him. So he carefully sniffed everything suspiciously before consumption.
Although he kept as still as he could, flexing and shifting muscles to keep from cramping, he still managed to get scratched by the sharpened spikes all around. It was either the hole had shrunk since he was here two years ago, his torturers had placed him into a smaller one than before or he had grown. In his feverish state, he would not put it past those evil bastards to have placed him in the smallest hole they could find.
Eventually, after an indeterminable time, they finally removed him from that hole in the ground. Zevran was feverish and there were pus on his multiple lacerations. They allowed him a bath and a healer and Zevran actually was still naïve enough to think that was the end of it.
He was never more wrong. He was escorted into a room with two men and made to strip down to his smallclothes. Manacled to the wall and facing inwards, he was not prepared for that first whiplash but still managed to hiss with pleasure that was now his instinctive reaction to pain. His torturers had been amused and sneered that his reputation of being a man-whore was well earned when they saw that he grew rigid with need.
With no prior preparation or agreement, they tied a sash on his member while taking their pleasure on him. Zevran had never felt so close to explosion and wept for release. When they finally untied him and flicked him lightly with the sash on his most sensitive part, Zevran exploded with an intensity that left him utterly emptied.
He was again allowed a bath and a healer before being escorted to a room where the centrepiece was a rack. It hurt sure but Zevran distracted himself with thoughts of breaking away from the restraints of being a recruit, finally becoming a Crow and enjoying his ultimate pleasures: the hunt, the seduction, the kill. This senseless torture to get him to admit planting the poison in the target's possessions was pointless. When he did not wish to divulge a secret, even the threat of death would not intimidate him. He was to be a Crow. No self-respecting Crow feared death, they relished it, relished in being the bringer of it. It is his aspiration to always hold the ability to end someone's life in his hands.
His two elven torturers were speaking but in the haze of pain, Zevran only caught the last sentence.
"We're not going to go easy on you, trust me." The Crow torturer said with a smirk.
"No…" Zevran groaned as they tightened the crank further. "I wouldn't…" He managed to keep his groan in this time as they continued to turn the wheel. "want you to hold back. I'd be disappointed if you…" This time Zevran just gritted his teeth to keep the groan from escaping before continuing. "you."
The rest of what was said was lost to Zevran as he proceeded to distract himself again. Filling his mind with pleasurable triggers instead of whatever was really happening to him. There would only be one eventuality. He would be a Crow. He had already given too much of himself to die from this. He will be a Crow. He will take lives because he can and for the absolute pleasure it brings him.
-0-
9:20 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 10 years after Neria (now 10) was found
Neria's eyes were wide with wonder. Out of habit, she scribbled in her notebook. I'm going to Antiva with you and Greagoir for the College of Magi?
Irving nodded with a smile. "Yes, Ines and Greagoir decided that sending you to be 'examined' by Ines would be the most plausible way to 'recover' your voice. Sadly, Ines would only be able to repair some of the damage. You will never get your original voice back." He finished with a twinkle in his eyes.
Neria nearly whooped in her excitement. She held it in at the last moment and settled for jumping up and down. Her eyes were shining with the joy she felt inside at the thought of seeing Ines again.
When do we leave? What do I need to pack? She looked up eagerly at Irving.
"Greagoir is making the necessary arrangements for passage. So I expect it would take a week or two. Just a change of robes and whatever you will need for your daily clean up. We can purchase anything else in Antiva." Irving chuckled when Neria actually quivered with suppressed exuberance. "Go on with you now. I'm sure you will wish to share your good news with your friends."
Neria skipped out of the First Enchanter's office and nearly crashed into an anxiously waiting Jowan. Anders shoved off the wall where he had been lounging, took one look at her exultant face and remarked drily to Jowan. "Told you that she's not in trouble again, you worrywart."
"What? You are the one… Ow!" Jowan abruptly broke off his sentence when Anders shot a small bolt up his arse.
"So, sweetie, good news?" Anders asked nonchalantly as if nothing of consequence had occurred.
Neria grasped his hands and sent pulse after pulse of magic into him in code. Anders hissed, stiffened and pushed her away. She frowned and looked up in confusion at him. Anders swallowed hard and thanked the Maker that his robes were voluminous enough to hide his very obvious discomfort. It was not something he understood at all. Neria had always been like a little sister to him but since he turned fifteen, every time she touched him with her magic, he had such a violent sexual reaction that he just felt utterly disgusted and horrified at himself.
"Neria…" His voice came out sounding gravelly and he had to clear his throat to continue. "What did I tell you about not using magic on me? Whatever it is you need to tell me, you can write it down. Or use Jowan."
Neria raised those bright hazel eyes to stare bewilderedly at him and Anders had to swallow hard, clenching his fists to keep from pulling her into his arms. She shrugged, pulled out her notebook and wrote. Jowan sucks at reading my codes.
"Hey now… I don't…" Jowan started.
Neria raised a brow and he stopped. I'M GOING TO ANTIVA!
"Wow! Antiva? You lucky minx!" Jowan exclaimed loudly. "Always causing trouble and they reward you by taking you to Antiva?"
Neria rolled her eyes. It's to help me recover my voice, you dork!
Anders' mouth had tightened and he had remained strangely silent. She reached out to hug him like she always did when he retreated within himself and was hurt when he moved out of her way hastily.
Neria tilted her head and looked at Anders with the sadness she felt in her eyes. He sighed, squatted and hugged her as close as he could without revealing his state. "Oh sugar, of course I am happy for you. It's high time they did something for you. A whole tower filled with mages who have supposedly incredible powers and not one who is able to help you recover your voice. I'm just sorry that I am not competent enough in my healing skills to aid you."
Neria smiled tenderly, placed her slender hands on his face and placed a light kiss on his lips and Anders' breath hitched noticeably. He flushed, extricated himself and stood hurriedly. "Let's…" He cleared his throat firmly. "Let's tell the others."
As he walked away, Anders admonished himself. She is just an affectionate child. What's wrong with me? Maybe I should take up Petra's offer for companionship. Yes, that should stave off these crazy reactions. A bit of distance should help too. Thank the Maker she is going to Antiva. When she can speak in that clearly childish voice of hers, this will end. Oh Maker… It had better end.
-0-
9:20 Dragon Age, Castle Cousland, Highever, Ferelden – Neria (10)
The little girl peering around Teyrna Cousland had dark brown hair and forest green eyes. That was all they could see of her as she had gasped and hid behind her mother's skirts when Neria had smiled brilliantly at her.
"Elissa Cousland. You are nine. Stop this nonsense and greet our guests." Eleanor smiled tightly while prying her daughter's hands loose from her dress.
Neria stepped forward, curtseyed with a flourish and rose with a bewitching smile.
Greagoir choked back a laugh and Irving's eyebrows rose. Where did the child learn this? The thought was shared.
"What a well brought up little girl you are." Eleanor sighed with appreciation. "Unlike some other little harridan I know." She added as an aside with pointed looks at her daughter. When she finally managed to shove the girl in front of her, Elissa bowed and Neria's eyes widened with incredulity.
The little girl was dressed in full leather armour, cuirass, skirt, gauntlets, greaves and boots, with two small daggers sheathed at her sides. Neria turned to look pleadingly at Irving and he groaned knowing exactly what that look meant.
"No, Neria." Irving patiently explained. "You may not have an outfit like that. They are for rogues. Not mages. It may not look heavy or unwieldy but it takes strength and dexterity to wear them."
Neria pouted, pointed to Elissa then herself and made the sign for smaller than.
"Yes, she is younger than you but I'll bet that she has been training since young in it just as you were trained in magic since three." Irving good-naturedly replied. "Just as I don't expect her to be able to cast Lightning, I do not expect you to be able to wear that."
Eleanor laughed jovially. "Elissa has been training since she was five years old. Alas, she has become more comfortable in them then out of them." Gazing intently at Neria, she smiled indulgently. "I could let you try on one of her old sets of armour. You are about the same size. Would you like that little one?"
Neria nodded eagerly. "Elissa, go and ask Nan to bring out the armour you were wearing last year and we shall let…" She hesitated before turning to Neria to ask. "What's your name, child?"
"Her name is Neria." Irving answered when Neria looked pointedly at him. "She had an unfortunate accident three years ago and is now mute."
"Oh, you poor little thing. Well, we will see if the armour suits you. If it does, consider it a gift from me." Eleanor chuckled indulgently when the child jumped up and down with glee.
Before they could enter the castle proper, the Teyrn came striding in with servants carrying a limp boy on a stretcher. Eleanor gasped and race to the boy's side. "Maker! What happened to Fergus, Bryce?"
"Fetch the healer!" Bryce Cousland snapped at the elven servant curtly before turning to answer his wife. "A wild boar gored him while we were out hunting. The boy would not leave his man who had already been injured. Where is that healer?" He roared in state due to his obvious worry for his son.
A middle aged man came scrambling in, immediately sat down beside the stretcher and bringing out salves and health poultices. Fergus started to cough out blood and the healer paused in alarm. He looked up in a panic and stuttered in a quivering voice. "Your Grace… This is…" Sweat began beading on his forehead. "This is beyond my skill."
"What?" Bryce bellowed. "What do you mean beyond your skills? I paid good money to retain you. If you cannot heal him, what have I been keeping you here for?"
Neria rolled her eyes in exasperation and walked to the other side of the stretcher. Kneeling down beside the boy whose wounds was still bleeding, she placed both her hands, side by side, directly on the wound and closed her eyes.
"What is she doing?" The healer and the Teyrn both shouted at once and made to push her away but Irving and Greagoir held up their hands to stay them.
"I know she looks very young but Neria is very talented in healing magic. Let her do this. I'm very sure you won't regret it." Irving assured them.
The intense look of concentration on Neria's face silenced everyone. With bated breath, they watched as the wound magically closed and Fergus stopped hacking up blood. His breath started to regulate and when Neria finally heaved a sigh, he seemed to have lapsed into a deep slumber.
Neria mimed that Fergus needed sleep and glanced at her hands in aghast. She negligently cast a cone of cold and flame blast simultaneously into small bowl she removed from her pack. After washing her hands in the resultant water, she wiped her hands on the back of her robes and pulled out her notebook and pencil.
He had a punctured lung and stomach. I have healed both the injuries but he will need to sleep to regain his strength from blood loss. Did he knock his head against something? He had a concussion too but I have healed that too. Yawning, she continued to write. I'm just a little tired after all that. May I go lie down a while?
She rubbed her eyes and yawned again. Eleanor was the first to recover her composure. "Anything, you desire, child, is yours as our thanks for this." Taking the little elven girl's hand, she ushered her to the guest chambers for a well-deserved rest.
Bryce raised a brow. "I didn't think that apprentices had that level of proficiency."
Irving answered smoothly. "Neria is a very talented apprentice."
In the end, they stayed for three days at Castle Cousland as Teyrna Cousland did not trust their resident healer to be able to handle Fergus' injury despite Irving's and Greagoir's reassurances that no more magic was required to hasten the healing.
It suited Neria just fine as Elissa's leather armour had to be refitted for her. Even though the human girl was a year younger than Neria, she was boarder than the lithe elf as most humans were.
However, as per Irving's prediction, despite the lightness of the leather armour, Neria found them chaffing, bulky and altogether too burdensome to move around in. Elissa had laughed at her awkwardness, earning her a smack on her head from her brother who was well enough to incline in a chair to view the revealing of Neria in her new outfit.
"I suppose you would get accustomed to its weight if you wore it daily." Eleanor suggested tentatively when she noted the disappointment on Neria's face. She drew out two small daggers from her sleeve. "A gift from the Teyrn and me. We saw how you admired Elissa's and thought it would be a small reward for healing Fergus' wounds."
Neria grinned delightedly at the gift while Irving groaned long-sufferingly. "Teyrn, Teyrna, it is our pleasure to serve. No gifts are necessary."
"Nonsense," Teyrn Bryce cut in. "Let the child have this. See how she appreciates them already."
Neria had unsheathed them and was experimentally stabbing at the air with them.
Greagoir sighed. "I believe what the First Enchanter is so delicately attempting to say is that mages are not allowed to carry any weapons other than staves. Neria is still an apprentice so she is not even allowed a staff."
Neria turned pleading eyes at both of them and they sighed collectively. "You may have them until we return to the Circle Tower."
-0-
9:20 Dragon Age, Antiva City – Neria (10) and Zevran (17)
Neria bounced up and down on the deck as the ship dropped anchor in the cobalt blue waters of Rialto Bay. It was much warmer than she expected and she would have been much more comfortable if she had been in her leather armour like she was throughout the voyage. However, Greagoir had insisted she change into her robes as there may be other templars present at the docks. After a month in the leather armour given by Teyrna Cousland, she was much more comfortable in them. Her heavy apprentice robes were just a nuisance to have on in this weather. When they finally settled the gangplank to the dock, she nearly dashed down it in her excitement to see Ines again but Irving held her back in amusement.
"Now, now, child." Irving said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Age before beauty."
Greagoir harrumphed before holding out his hand for Neria's own with a smile. "He just doesn't want Ines to lay into him for letting you run around wildly in a foreign place." Neria returned his smile and marvelled at how Greagoir was so different away from the Circle Tower. So much less, well, rigid.
They walked down the gangplank and Neria sprinted over to where she saw Irving speaking with Ines. Greagoir halted a good six feet away to get an unobstructed view of the woman he had corresponded with for the last three years.
They wrote each other regularly. Neither saying anything about their relationship as if by prior mutual agreement when there had been none. Reports of her life in Antiva were replied with reports of Neria's growth. Frustrations with Neria's discipline problems were answered with suggestions for compromises that both may accept. They became close friends who confided in each other and, despite the physical distance, they grew closer than when they had been meeting daily for seven years. Now as Greagoir watched her hug Neria in her arms, he felt the love he buried so deep inside him flare again. He heaved a resigned sigh. It was going to be a long three weeks.
"Zevran! Master Frediano summons you." Leandro called from the side of the training rings where Zevran had been aiding Leandro with the recruits. It was something he enjoyed doing in his spare time. There was a certain satisfaction in predicting which recruit could make the cut and which would not.
He bowed with a flourish to his sparring opponent and turned to leave the ring. From the corner of his eyes, he saw that his adversary had not put down his weapons but, was instead, sneaking up to backstab him. In a flurry of motions, Zevran sidestepped, rolled, came up behind his foe and drew his dagger across his neck. Blood immediately spurted from the deep cut, the boy, a mere eleven year old, gasped, clutching his neck futilely and fell.
"Tsk… You made me dirty my clothes. I'll have to make myself presentable before I meet my Master." Zevran glared at the dying boy. Lightly stepping so as not to stain his boots, he walked towards Leandro even as house elves rushed out to bundle the body like yesterday's rubbish and clean up the blood on the ground.
"That was slobby." Leandro remarked offhandedly as Zevran strolled past him. "The position you were in, you should have angled your arm under his ribs and stabbed him straight through to the heart. That way, minimal blood loss but he would still be dead."
"He wanted to sneak up on me when I had already bowed out. I'm not about to give him an easy death. This way of dying makes a greater statement than him just falling dead with minimal blood." Zevran grinned with a deadly gleam in his eyes, looking around the training ring where the rest of the recruits refused to meet his eyes in sheer terror. "Besides, you and I both know that he would not have made it another week. I was just kind enough to put him out of his misery rather than watch him struggle futilely like a fish out of water, no?"
Leandro smirked. "You're right at that. I think your Master has a new job for you."
"Another one? I just came back from the previous one yesterday. Brasca! You would think that he would at least grant his best Crow some rest after that previous job." Zevran sighed. "Ah! Here I am doing all the work, poor as a Chantry mouse and him enjoying all the fruits of my labour."
Leandro stared at him seriously. "If you don't like it, you could always grow stronger and take over as Master."
Zevran raised a brow and smiled diffidently. "Me, a Master? Ah, my friend, that is a position that entails so much… responsibility. No, I prefer to take lives and pleasures as and when required without such troublesome burdens."
To say that Zevran was disgruntled would be an understatement. He understood that the Crows took any contracts that were profitable but this really takes the cake on acceptable contracts to a good Crow like him.
He was to be a bodyguard for a child who needs to travel into the Antivan jungles for personal reasons. Any other Crow could have taken this job. He really did not understand Master Frediano's insistence that he did this. He just hoped that the child was not a brat.
"This is the young man you mentioned who would be perfect for this service?" Ines questioned while examining the elven young man in front of her. "What is your name?" She directly enquired of Zevran in the Common Tongue.
Zevran bowed with a flourish and declared flamboyantly in Common. "Zevran Arainai. Delighted to be at your service." He finally realised the reason for Master Frediano's insistence. Of all the Crows currently under Master Frediano, Zevran was the only one with a flair for languages.
Ines raised a brow while searching her mind as she found his name and manner strangely familiar. However, she could not for the life of her remember when or where she might have met him. Drily, she retorted. "It is not I who will have need for your services. Neria, you may come out now."
A pop was heard and out of nowhere, an armed child in leather armour was standing beside Zevran. He instinctively unsheathed his daggers to defend himself and felt himself paralysed. The child, an elven girl of not more than twelve years, peered up at him with open curiosity while tilting her head to the side. She smiled brilliantly at him and Zevran knew that if he could have, he would have returned it.
She stepped backwards and Zevran noted that she was wearing well-made leather cuirass, skirt, gauntlets, greaves, boots and had two equally fine daggers sheathed at her sides. Her hair was shimmering black velvet going midway down her back, braided and beribboned with a myriad of multi coloured ribbons. Her skin was fair to the point of translucent. She was lithe and small with long elven ears Zevran had only previously seen on Dalish elves. Her eyes was a bright hazel with chocolate specks that were looking so intently into him that Zevran suspected she could see into his black, sinful soul.
She went to stand beside the lady mage and Zevran was released from his paralysis. "This is Neria. She is mute so it is very important that whoever escorts her to the destination and back is able to read her notes which will be in Common Tongue." Ines looked enquiringly at Master Frediano.
"As I had previously said, Zevran is the best candidate for this. He speaks, reads and writes Common proficiently and I can guarantee better than any other young Crow you may find, male or female." He boasted with pride, almost as if Zevran's accomplishments were his own. "If you like, you may test him now."
Neria took out her notebook and pencil, tapped it against her cheek pondering before she scribbled something on a page of her notebook with a mischievous grin and showed it just to Zevran.
Would you teach me how to fight with daggers?
Zevran laughed and executed another extravagant bow. "Your wish is my command, piccino. As long as the contract is signed and paid, of course."
Ines sighed. "Do I even want to know what she wrote? Ah well… What I don't know, won't lose me sleep. Here is the initial deposit as agreed." Plonking a small money bag on the palm extended by Master Frediano, Ines narrowed her eyes. "No harm is to come to this child. Or else." A ball of fire appeared above the palm of her hands.
"Don't worry, Mistress of Magic. Crows never fail." Master Frediano counted out the sovereigns in the bag. Nodding to Zevran, he asked. "Where do you wish us to escort her?"
Unrolling a map, Ines pointed to an area within the Antivan jungles about a three or four day journey from Antiva City. "There. Escort her there. If she wishes to stay for a day or two, let her, but escort her back as soon as you can after that and keep her safe." Tossing another small money bag at Zevran, Ines said dismissively. "That is for the journey. Don't stay at taverns and don't let Neria step into one. Purchase anything you may need whenever and wherever convenient. Make sure she is fed on time as she cannot go hungry. She needs six meals a day."
Zevran's eyebrows rose. "Six meals?" Turning to the young elven girl, he ogled at her small and limber form and wondered out loud. "Why do you pack it all away, dolce bambina?"
Neria grinned noncommittally. Non magi often do not understand that mages require more food than normal people to sustain mana regeneration. Ines' words were still much on her mind. It is fortuitous that you were given the leather armour, Neria, for they cannot know that you are a mage. Do not use magic in Antiva City, the templars will feel it and bring you right back. You may even be punished for running away. Remember, no magic unless your life is threatened. The Crow will be able to protect you from any but the most dire of situations.
"That is none of your concern. You are only required to protect her, make sure she is fed on time and rested." Ines said firmly. "That should not be a problem for you is it?"
"No, no. It's a stroll in the park or in the jungle as the case may be." Zevran answered with confidence.
Ah well… Fate is such a tricky whore. Zevran thought as they were waylaid in the back streets of Antiva City just after they had purchased supplies from the market for their excursion to the jungles.
Three men in rough armour were blocking their advance while another two were impeding their retreat. Zevran gave a feral grin at the odds. One against five. Pretty bad odds. For them.
Neria gestured questioningly at the approaching men. "Amata fanciulla, I'm afraid that these are the ruffians I am supposed to be protecting you from. The odds they may seem not so good at the moment but fear not. I shall even them out."
Going into stealth mode, Zevran disappeared right in front of Neria's astonished eyes and crept behind one of the two men to plunge a dagger into his throat while covering his mouth to stifle any sound. Even before the other man could react, Zevran's throwing knife was already buried in his chest.
The three men in front of them were galvanised into action. Neria sprinted towards him, narrowly missing being decapitated by one of the man swinging his sword. Such lack of finesse. Zevran thought furiously as he threw his remaining knives into them. Two hit their marks and the men dropped, not so much by the accuracy of the blows but by the Crow Poison laced on them. Zevran knew he had to finish the brute in front of him quickly or the other two may soon be giving him trouble again.
Neria wondered if she should be helping Zevran. Ines had urged her not to use her magic for fear of templars getting the scent of her magic. However, she had secreted some bombs into her pack and she drew one out now. She threw it at the feet of the man Zevran was fighting when she saw that the thug had slashed a long cut under his arm. It exploded, shooting up spikes of ice and impaling him. Neria's jaw dropped. When she had experimented on bombs with Ines, it had always been on straw men. Straw men did not bleed and it was quite easy to be clinical about the effects of bombs that way. There was nothing clinical about this. Neria did not know whether she was horrified at the loss of life or satisfied that her bomb worked so well.
"Next time, piccino. Please give a warning before you throw that. Won't want me caught in one of those do you?" Zevran laughed uneasily before smacking his hand on his forehead. "Ah, what am I saying? Such foolishness, I'm so sorry, dolce bambina. I forget that you could not speak."
Neria smiled, shrugging while taking another bomb from her pack and casually throwing it at the remaining men. It exploded and electricity spread out singeing them to death. A deadly grin formed before Neria could stop it and she clapped her hands in delight. Zevran felt tingles of unexpected pleasure run down his spine watching the sweet child get such joy in killing men.
"You would make a fine Crow." Zevran noted amiably. "If you could speak, that is."
Neria blinked and smiled a secretive smile before handing him a Lesser Health Poultice, indicating that he should take care of the cut on the back of his arm. Zevran grimaced at the reminder of his injury and sighed when he realised that he could not possibly do this himself. "I'm afraid that I cannot reach this, piccino. Would you be so kind as to assist?"
Neria nodded before bringing out linen bandages and a water bag. She poured the fluid from the water bag directly onto the laceration on Zevran's arm. Expecting water, Zevran nearly hissed when he realised it was cleaning alcohol. Gently patting it dry, Neria placed the health poultice over the injury and begun to wind a bandage around his arm over it. She tied it off with a small bow under his arm where it would not interfere with his movements.
Zevran flexed his arm and marvelled that it was feeling much better. He stared wonderingly at the child and laughed heartily. "You are quite the little healer aren't you?"
Neria grinned and took out her notebook and pencil. Would you like a kiss to make it better? Raising teasing eyes at the rogue, Neria did not wait for him to answer but planted a light kiss on Zevran's cheek before packing up the healing paraphernalia she had taken out of her pack. It was something she often did with the younger apprentices in the Circle Tower.
Zevran's breath hitched. He felt exactly as when he had accidentally triggered a Shock Trap except this shock was more pleasant, much, much more pleasant.
His eyes narrowed as he took in Neria's neat packing of gear before closing the flap of her pack. He had wondered at the size of it given her slight form but had not wanted to ask too many questions. Reaching to pick it up, Zevran was stopped by a pair of dainty hands. Neria stroked his injured arm with concern clear in her eyes and Zevran suddenly felt the urge to purr. He recoiled from her touch and her eyes grew round with alarm.
Does it hurt that much? Do you need rest? Perhaps we should start our journey on another day? Neria wrote into her notebook while Zevran peered over her shoulder to read.
"No, dolce bambina. It is fine. Let's move on before another enterprising group seeks to finish what this one started." Zevran picked up his own pack and watched Neria carry her own large one. He wondered at his reaction to her touch. There were Crows who liked the touch of young children but Zevran had never been very partial to it. He wondered if he had just been introduced to the wrong type of children. It was perhaps something to explore when he returned from this mission.
Neria was skipping ahead, darting here and there cutting up what to Zevran seemed like random plants. The day was perfect, the sun shining and birds seemed to be literally serenading them throughout their journey. Zevran had never been fanciful but he thought that the animals themselves were watching their progress, as if fascinated despite themselves.
As the sun started to set, he looked around for a suitable place to camp as the lady mage had given such strict instructions not to lodge in any taverns. Zevran sighed despondently. He was a city elf and camping was not his cup of tea. He found a clearing near a small pond and called out to Neria.
Neria came scurrying back, smiling joyously at being out in the open. The jungle felt like home to her somehow and she was in rapture from observing plants she had previously only seen as illustrations in books. She touched and smelled those that were safe and took her time to commit those that were not to her memory.
When Zevran started struggling to put up canvas structures that she guessed were tents, Neria stopped him indicating that she would like to sleep under the stars. He grimaced. "It may rain. I do not wish to get wet." She grinned and shook her head firmly, smoothing out her bedroll on the ground before starting to arrange a ring of stones for the campfire. Resignedly, Zevran placed his bedroll on the opposite side. He went around gathering firewood while Neria portioned out bread, cheese and poured out wine into cups. Zevran raised a brow. "Aren't you a little too young to imbibe?"
Neria smiled guilelessly, scribbling in her notebook. I always have a cup for dinner. Zevran narrowed his eyes suspiciously but shrugged. He was her protector not her guardian. If she wanted to drink, so be it.
He sat in front of the fireplace, arranging the firewood without any clue if he was doing it correctly. Neria squatted beside him and waved him aside. He watched as she arranged small sticks and bits of twigs into a small pile before looking at him for the flint and steel. He dropped them in her hands and sat back to watch her light the fire. Does she have experience with this?
One strike and the twigs ignited. She hurriedly added more sticks and twigs and as the fire roared to life, thicker pieces of wood.
Neria sneaked a glimpse at Zevran. It did not seem that he had noticed her small use of flame blast on the firewood. It was fortunate that he did not seem to know how to start a camp fire. Otherwise, he would have been more suspicious of the ease with which the fire had been lit. Thankfully, she had learnt enough watching Greagoir on their way from the Circle Tower to Highever to appear competent.
Zevran was intrigued by Neria. She was obviously good with bombs and poultices but extremely clueless about the daggers she carried. She did not know how to wield them and could barely unsheathe them properly to cut off whatever plant piqued her interest. However, she obviously liked the outdoors, sleeping under the stars and could light a fire like someone who had always camped.
She was also a happy child. Much happier than any child Zevran had ever met. Which given his entire life might not have been that remarkable except that he was also taking into account the children from the slums who played carefree in the streets. Joy just seemed to radiate from her and it was all he could do not to bask in it.
From the quality of her armour and daggers, Zevran would have thought she was a noble except that Neria was an elf. She was an enigma that Zevran could not resolve and it rankled. Most of the time, he was able to read a person within hours, if not minutes of exchanging greetings. He had spent a whole day with her and still had no clue into the inner workings of her mind.
Neria sat back, satisfaction rife on her face at the blazing fire. She passed him his portion of the meal and proceeded to quietly eat her food. He observed her mannerisms. Again, they reminded him of the way nobles ate. Small, delicate bites, soft swallows and dainty sips from the cup. He wondered if she would divulge more of her background and was opening his mouth to ask when she unsheathed her daggers and walked up to him.
She held both daggers in one hand while displaying the page with her earlier request to him. Nodding, he jumped up and motioned for her to follow him deeper into the clearing. "What do you know about dual wielding?"
Neria shrugged, giving him a helpless look.
Zevran smiled encouragingly. "Do you at least know how they are held?"
Neria smiled and held up the daggers in her hands pointed down, hilt ends near her thumbs.
Zevran chortled with mock amusement. He was in for a long night. He walked over and touched her hand, intending to change her grip on the dagger. A spark, if that was what it was, raced up his fingertips from where he touched her and ignited his senses. He drew away, hissing in displeasure at his reaction, if not at the pure pleasure of it, while Neria gazed at him, utterly perplexed.
Brasca! She is totally unaffected and here I am behaving like some untested teenager! Zevran shook himself and schooled his face into his usual inscrutable mask. He unsheathed his own daggers and demonstrated to her the proper way to grip them. Neria focused on his hands and changed her grip so that the daggers were held upwards.
"You need to keep your grip light but firm, flexible but strong." Zevran twirled his daggers effortlessly, eliciting a gasp from Neria.
Smiling cockily, Zevran proceeded to feint at imaginary foes, turning and slashing, thrusting and sweeping. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder to see Neria focused on his every move. He grinned and continued.
At the end of his performance, he bowed with a flourish and gestured for Neria to start. She hesitated and he smiled reassuringly. She paused for a long while but to Zevran's great astonishment, she mimicked his every move to near perfection.
By the end of it, she finished with the same flourish he had given her and Zevran clapped. "That was your first time?"
Neria nodded excitedly. Sheathing her daggers, she scrawled. How was that?
"It was very well done. You have a talent for this. You really would make a good Crow recruit." Zevran smiled indulgently.
Neria beamed and jumped up and down with glee before launching herself on Zevran. Unconsciously, he had pressed a stiletto against her throat. She gulped, staring up at him, not in fear, Zevran was surprised to note, but avid curiosity. She backed away and scribbled in her notebook again. Where did you hide that?
Zevran laughed warmly. He realised that he had laughed genuinely thrice so far in Neria's presence. That was more than he had done in the entire year. "That is a Crow secret, piccola cara. If I told you, I would have to kill you." Neria pouted and slowly approached him. She did not stop until she was pressed up against him. She wound her arms around him in a thankful hug. Backing away, she smiled and went to lie down on her bedroll leaving Zevran rooted on the spot with amazement at her show of affection and his body's unruly reaction to it.
When the sun rose the next morning, Neria insisted on taking care of his injury before moving on. She unwound his bandages and removed the poultice, cleaning it with a clean cloth and water warmed from the fire. Her touch was gentle and light but cause great disturbances to Zevran's equilibrium. Brasca! It was not so long that I have been without sex that a mere child could stir this level of lust!
By the time, she reapplied a new poultice and bandaged him up again, a part of Zevran was very much awake. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, he caught her hand just before she could turn away and teased. "What I don't get a kiss today?" Neria grinned good-naturedly and placed a light kiss on Zevran's cheek. He forced himself not to react outwardly to the tingles of pleasure spreading out from where she had kissed him and smiled tightly at her.
Much to his discomfort, she started to walk beside him today, glancing at him every now and then as if puzzled about something. Finally, after what had to be the thirtieth time she had stolen a glimpse at him, Zevran asked. "What is it?"
Neria winked and opened up her notebook to the place where she had asked where he hid the stiletto. He laughed again. The sound was such a happy one that Zevran wondered how the child could bring out such simple joy in him.
They settled into a daily routine. Zevran would demonstrate stances and actions each morning and evening while Neria committed them to mind and practised. Often, Zevran found her waking up earlier in the mornings or waiting until she thought he was asleep in the nights to practise. He watched her silently, repeating the motions that he had demonstrated so intently that she was unaware she was being watched. As a Crow, he was a very light sleeper and it was impossible for her to move around the camp without waking him but he did not have the heart to chastise her when she was so earnest in learning to fight well.
Neria would tend to his wound daily and each time Zevran had to exert more of his self-control to not act on the increasing intensity of his reaction to her touch. It helped somewhat when he learnt to his horror that she was just ten which made him a good seven years older than her.
A light breakfast and they would be off, Neria walking beside him now and then but mostly flitting ahead to pick up more plants or just standing to look at them while he passed. She would run back to walk beside him and the sequence would repeat.
For such a small girl, she could really eat. More than once, he had to stop inside a tavern to purchase more food while she waited patiently outside for him. The smile on her face each time she tore in warm bread made Zevran wonder how she would react to the rich Antivan pastries that were too flaky to pack. He resolved to introduce her to them on their way back.
Evenings, he would find a place to camp and gather firewood while Neria portioned out the food and started the fire. After a simple but filling dinner, Zevran would train her with her daggers again. He found himself helplessly touching her in little ways, seeking the pleasure he received each time their skin met. He always noted that she had absolutely no idea what she did to him. Eventually, in spite of feeling more than a little self-disgusted, Zevran found himself flirting outrageously with the child. However, Neria would just return his more common teases with her own or look utterly baffled at his more risqué ones. It was galling to say the least. The great Zevran Arainai, seducer extraordinaire, could not succeed in the seduction a child.
On the fourth day, they finally came to the clearing marked on the map that the lady mage had provided. It was a desolate place with tall weeds growing everywhere. Zevran had to cut them a path through to the centre which Neria seemed determined to reach.
Strangely, the centre of the clearing was free of the weeds growing all around them. A perfect circle of short, fragrant grass grew here and there was what looked to be a pile of grey ashes in the middle of it.
Neria had been visibly shaken, approaching the grey dust without hesitation and stooping to touch it. Zevran was instantly at her side and grasping her arm to draw her away. "You should not touch substances that you know nothing about, piccino…" He began even as Neria reached out with her other hand to feel it.
There was a sudden, blinding flash in the clearing. Zevran's last conscious thought was filled with derision. I knew this job had been way too easy.
Translations
Piccino – Child
Dolce bambina – Sweet girl
Amata fanciulla – Beloved girl
Piccola cara – Little Darling
Author's Notes
I will be taking a short break to catch up on the editing of my mentor's book. Do drop in after a fortnight or so for the next update.
Every time I receive notifications of people reviewing, adding this story to their list of favourites and/or putting this story on their alert list, I get a little giddy from happiness. Thank you all so much for your support, it helps to keep me writing. :)
I would also like to thank all the silent readers of this story. :)