Author's Note – My continued thanks to all of you who have read/faved/followed this story, with special shout-outs this chapter to KalenCaelli, ANCIENT WARRIOR, What Ithacas Mean, & Natswit
Hugs as always to Genjutsu-Dragon for the beta!
Late Justinian, 31 Dragon
Lirene's Fereldan Imports was easily found in Lowtown. Lirene herself was an older woman with greying dark hair and lines of age touching a face that held both kindness and dignity, reminding Talia of her own mother.
"It is an honor to meet you, Warden-Commander," Lirene told her, adding to Leliana, "and you, m'lady. And welcome news that the Blight is over." That news had caused the patrons of the shop to gather around, eager for word of their homeland.
"I wish we'd been able to end it sooner," Talia told her. "How many Fereldans are here in Kirkwall?"
"Hundreds," Lirene replied gravely. "The numbers arriving have lessened in the last few months, but that seems more due to the fact that those remaining behind lack the resources to leave. The prices being charged by ship captains for transport are exorbitant; the lucky ones arrive with little more than the clothes on their backs." Her face hardened. "The unlucky ones are sold as slaves."
Talia felt her jaw clench. "Kirkwall permits slavery?" she asked quietly, steel beneath the surface.
"Technically, no," Lirene told her, a sardonic twist to her mouth, "but indentured servitude is all the rage these days with so many desperate people about, and if you charge your 'servants' for room and board, it can take them twenty years or more to save enough to pay off their debt. Still, the ones who have it the worst are the ones whose ships bypass the Free Marches entirely and sail to Tevinter." She shook her head ruefully. "They'll likely never see freedom again."
"You wouldn't happen to know which ships have done that, would you?" Talia kept her voice even, aware of the anger trying to kindle in her gut. She could not allow it to flare out of control, but that did not mean that she was required to ignore such atrocities. She had connections now, after all.
"Aye." Lirene nodded, watching her closely. "I keep a list, make sure any of our people know which ships to avoid if they're leaving Kirkwall."
"Give me the list and I'll make sure the harbormasters in Ferelden get copies," Talia promised. "And the Crown. Ferelden has had its fill of Tevinter slavers, and the captains that supply them will find our ports closed to them." And if she ever ran across any in person, she would ensure that they paid for their crimes.
"Aye, I can do that," Lirene agreed, nodding to an elven youth who darted toward the back of the store.
"M'lady." A worn looking man of middle years touched her arm hesitantly. "What news of Lothering?"
Talia exchanged a glance with Leliana, "It was overrun by the darkspawn early on," she said gently, reaching out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "but it will be rebuilt."
"What of the Blight taint on the land?" a woman wanted to know. "They say that some lands in the north remain barren after centuries!"
"Those lands were under Blight for years at a time," Leliana told her. "The first two Blights lasted nearly three centuries between them, and the next two more than a decade each. There are ways to treat newly Blighted ground to remove the taint."
"Will we be allowed back?" another man asked.
"More than allowed," Talia assured him, her eyes lifting to sweep the group. "Welcomed. You are Fereldans."
"Fereldans who abandoned Ferelden," a guard with a Marcher accent sneered, standing in the doorway and surveying them all with contempt.
Talia fixed him with a level gaze, her hand resting casually on Starfang's hilt. "Let a Blight ravage these lands and tell me what those without swords do," she told him, looking him up and down quite deliberately before adding, "and those with swords, as well."
The guard's face flushed and nostrils flared as derisive laughter rose up in the shop. He spun on his heel and stomped away, muttering about "Damned dog lords".
Talia felt the now-familiar ache in her chest at the words. She still found herself reaching out to scratch Brego's burly head, only to encounter empty air. Leliana's hand slipped into hers, squeezing gently, and Talia dismissed the guard with a shake of her head, turning back to Lirene as the woman accepted a sheet of parchment from the elven youth and offered it to her. She scanned the list of ships, and immediately recognized a couple of names from the Denerim docks. She rolled it neatly and tucked it away in her belt pouch.
"I'll pass this on as soon as we get back," she promised, looking to her bard.
"We are seeking a family from Lothering who traveled here," Leliana told Lirene. "The Hawkes?"
A smile blossomed on the older woman's face, and a murmur ran through the assembled folk, in which grumbles seemed only slightly edged out by approving words.
"They're here," Lirene confirmed, her smile fading as she added, "Most of them, anyway. Leandra's son was killed by darkspawn on the journey."
"Maker, no!" Leliana breathed, blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "Do you know where they live?"
"Aye." Lirene's features twisted into an expression of distaste. "They're all packed into the hovel that Leandra's brother had to move into after he squandered the family fortune. That one's a waste of space; forces them to pay the rent for him while he spends his time drinking and moaning about his bad luck. It's in Lowtown, but I don't know that any of them will be there at this time of day. Leandra takes in washing to make coin, and her younger daughter helps her, while her oldest -"
"Makes trouble," one older woman finished sourly, and was immediately set upon verbally by the younger members of the crowd. "She's a hoyden!" she insisted.
"But she's helped many here, including you, Mairen," Lirene reminded her sternly. The woman's weathered face flushed, but remained stubbornly set.
"Never asked for her help," she muttered.
"Nor thanked her for dealing with the landlord who was squeezing every last bit from your purse," Lirene countered sharply. "You may not care for how she spends her leisure time, but she's done more than nearly anyone to assist Fereldans in Kirkwall."
"That sounds like Devon," Leliana agreed with a musical laugh. "She was a scamp, but she would do anything for her family and friends."
The sour woman sniffed disdainfully. "She's taken up with some pirate wench here, and their antics are downright scandalous! Don't know what Leandra is thinking, allowing such behavior."
"Devon is a woman grown," Lirene countered, "and she works hard to support her family. She's more than earned the right to some fun."
The man from Lothering regarded Leliana closely. "You were a member of the Lothering chantry, were you not?"
"I was a lay sister there, yes," she confirmed, smiling at him. "I remember you now. Darrik, yes? How is your wife?"
His answering smile faded somewhat. "She died on the boat coming over" he replied, his weathered features touched with a resigned sorrow. "But the herbs that you brought to Miriam helped ease her suffering. Thank you."
"I am glad they helped her some," Leliana told him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "I wish more could have been done."
"Maker's will," he said gruffly, eyes suddenly a bit too bright, then cleared his throat. "Anyways, just as well she didn't have to endure this place. Our farm in Lothering was small, but it was ours."
"It's still there," Talia promised him, "and elsewhere there's no shortage of land whose owners were killed during the Blight. Ferelden needs farmers and craftsmen." She turned to Lirene. "Can you make a list of people wanting to return, where they are from, and their trades? I'll speak to the crown when we return and start arranging an orderly way for people to get back to their homes."
Lirene nodded readily. "I can do that. How much longer will you be in Kirkwall?"
"Another two or three days," Talia told her. At some point, they were going to have to make themselves known to the Viscount, which would undoubtedly lead to a state dinner. Anora had given her the authority to initiate discussion of an exchange of ambassadors and trade delegations; thankfully, the actual negotiations would be handled by those to whom the prospect was (hopefully) more appealing than another fight with the Archdemon. But to just depart without presenting themselves would likely be perceived as a slight.
"I'll have a list ready by then," the older woman said, "and more in a few weeks, as the word spreads. Maker's blessings on you both, and on our Queen and King." Her words were echoed by others in the shop, and while their gratitude was not exactly unwelcome, Talia was more than ready to be away and go back to being anonymous and alone with her lover.
"The best place to find Devon Hawke is at a bar called the Hanged Man, just north of the docks," Lirene told them, her eyes daring the sour woman to comment. "She picks up a fair number of her jobs there; Bethany joins her sometimes." The look that she gave them was oddly searching, but she said nothing more. They thanked her and made their way out of the shop.
"It'll be good to get these people back to their homes," Talia remarked. The refugees' status as second-class citizens galled her, even as it was obvious that the population of Kirkwall's lower regions had been pushed well beyond capacity by the influx, which had not been allowed to encroach on the sanctity of Hightown.
"Yes," Leliana agreed, adding somberly, "as long as they have homes to return to."
"If not, there's no shortage of empty homes," Talia pointed out grimly. Between the civil war and the darkspawn, it was rare that a family had not lost at least one member, and many families – and even some small settlements – had been completely wiped out. One of Anora and Fergus' first acts had been to task each landed noble to conduct a census of the people sworn to them and the lands that they oversaw.
Leliana squeezed her hand and leaned into her slightly as they walked. "Thanks to you and Alistair, Ferelden and its people will have the chance to recover."
"Wouldn't have happened without you and the others," Talia disagreed. "You are all as much heroes of Ferelden as he and I are, even if no one seems to realize it."
They made their way back through Lowtown to the docks, then turned north. The Hanged Man wasn't difficult to find.
"That's … different," Talia remarked, staring up at what she had finally identified as a mannequin dangling head-down from the gibbet that extended from the towering stone structure that looked more like a prison than a bar.
"In some circles, getting very drunk is known as getting hanged," Leliana informed her with a faint smile. "It is a distinctive piece of décor though, isn't it?"
"Doesn't make the place look any more inviting," Talia grumbled, letting her hand fall away from Starfang's hilt but remaining alert. She and the bard were noticeably better garbed than the majority of the crowds in Lowtown; more than one measuring glance had been cast their way and she could feel unseen eyes peering from the deep shadows of nearly every alley they passed.
The interior was surprisingly large – almost cavernous, and Talia could practically hear Alistair's judgment in her mind:
"Cree-py."
Metal braziers hung from the high ceiling, the flames within casting a shifting play of light and shadow onto the room below.
"Doesn't look much like a bar," Talia murmured. Oh, the tables with patrons hunched over them and the casks and bottles behind the bar were familiar enough, and the sullen looking bloke in the stained apron was the type she'd seen in dive bars in Denerim, but the pillars and alcoves, along with the sheer sturdiness of the limestone structure, strongly suggested a original function very different than its current incarnation.
"It is unusual," Leliana agreed, blue eyes sweeping the tables and pausing on one near the stairs. "There," she murmured, and began working her way across the room, weaving among the tables. Talia followed, trusting her lover to pick their destination while she kept an eye out for trouble from other directions, but when a grimy bloke snaked out a hand to pinch the Orlesian's backside, she just took a step back.
Leliana moved too quickly for the eye to follow, and in the next moment, the bloke was on his knees beside his chair, howling curses with the offending hand bent back to the wrist at an impossible angle.
"Please don't do that," Leliana told him, her expression bland, her tone as polite as if she were asking him to pass the tea, but her pressure on his hand remained as inexorable as a steel vise until he stopped swearing and began nodding frantically, tears of pain streaming from his eyes.
She released him and turned away in a single, smooth motion, continuing on her path. Talia slowed her own steps long enough to meet the eyes of the man and each of his tablemates in turn, one hand resting lightly on Starfang's hilt. Message received: the bloke settled back into his chair, cradling his hand with a sullen expression, and no one else moved.
Leliana was being embraced by a tall, slender young woman with dark hair, while a slightly older-looking, petite blonde woman stood waiting her turn. Their companions remained seated, watching with interest: a strongly built woman with strawberry-blonde hair wearing the armor and livery of the city guard; a clean-shaven dwarf slouching comfortably in his chair, his tunic cut to bare a broad expanse of thickly curling chest hair; a wide-eyed young Dalish woman, and -
"Well, now." The last member of the group lifted her long legs from the edge of the table, let her chair rock down so that all four legs touched the floor, and came to her feet, sauntering to meet Talia. "Fancy meeting you here."
"I could say the same to you, Isabela," Talia replied. The pirate seemed unchanged from when they had met her in Denerim, from the bright blue kerchief that secured her mahogany hair to her insouciant demeanor. Talia accepted her embrace, but turned her head so that the other woman's lips met her cheek.
Amber eyes twinkled with amusement as Isabela stepped back. "Still disgustingly monogamous, I see," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "More's the pity; we could have a mind-blowing foursome." She nodded toward the blonde woman, who was hugging Leli.
"Bela!" The dark haired young woman looked mortified, fair cheeks flaming, while the guardswoman's lips thinned into a disapproving line.
"I take it you've met before," the blonde woman quipped, turning to Talia. She was a fair bit shorter, but had the compactly muscled build of an acrobat, and the grip in the hand that she offered the Warden was firm without trying to turn it into a contest of strength. "I'm Devon Hawke. My sister, Bethany -" she nodded to the dark-haired girl, "- future Guard-Captain of Kirkwall, Aveline Vallen -" the strawberry-blonde woman shook her head with a long suffering expression, "Merrill, First of the Sabrae clan -" the teasing edge left her voice, but the elf still blushed and squirmed at finding attention turned to her, " and the one and only Varric Tethras." The dwarf rolled his eyes good-naturedly. The name had a familiar ring, but Talia couldn't place it immediately.
"So, how do you know these two?" Devon inquired of Isabela, pulling two more chairs up to the table as the rest shifted to make room. "Corff!" she shouted toward the bar. "Two more beers!"
"You first," the pirate shot back, dropping back into her chair and kicking back once more.
"Leliana was a lay sister at the Lothering chantry," Bethany explained earnestly.
"Never lived up to the name, more's the pity," Devon quipped, earning a swat on the shoulder from her sister. Talia tensed, but Leliana's hand found hers beneath the table and squeezed lightly.
"I never cared for being part of a queue," the bard replied sweetly. Aveline nearly choked on her ale, and Isabela guffawed.
"She definitely knows you, Hawke," she said gleefully.
"Fair enough," Devon replied, unruffled. "I haven't seen this one before, though." She nodded toward Talia, blue-green eyes gleaming with appreciation. "I'd remember."
"I can fill in that blank," Isabela took up smoothly as a woman set two wooden tankards before Talia and Leliana. "If the word I've been hearing at the docks is right, we're in the presence of the sodding Hero of Ferelden!" The pronouncement was grandiose and loud enough to turn heads at other tables, but the amber eyes still danced with the ever present mockery that the pirate seemed to view the entire world with.
"One of them," Talia corrected her quietly, taking a cautious sip of the ale. Since the festivities in Orzammar, she had not overindulged, and had no intentions of doing so now. It was a trifle bitter for her taste, but otherwise acceptable.
"So, do we call you "Hero" or "Lady Ferelden"? Hawke inquired lightly.
"Talia will do," she replied with a faint smile. "Talia Cousland." Isabela had found a good match, it seemed, though despite the pirate's comment about a foursome, she and Hawke didn't act like a couple. They were seated across the table from each other, and no romantic currents were apparent between them. Friends with benefits, perhaps? Zevran had offered to introduce her to the concept more than once. None of her business either way. "A pleasure to meet you all."
"You killed the Archdemon?" Merrill's eyes were wide.
"Not on my own," Talia told her. "I had a lot of help, including present company," she added, looking pointedly at Leliana.
"It's still quite remarkable," the elf insisted, her countenance becoming more somber as she went on, "I … lost two friends to the darkspawn when my clan was still in Ferelden, at the beginning of the Blight."
"I'm sorry," Talia offered.
"Not your fault at all," Merrill reasoned. "We just didn't know what we were up against until it was too late." She sighed. "At least our clan's Keeper, Marethari, managed to negotiate passage for us to the Free Marches on a ship called The Pride of Amaranthine. I thought that was a lovely name."
"It is," Leliana agreed warmly, "but that still must have been a challenging journey. Were you able to take your aravels and halla?"
"We were!" Merrill replied eagerly, brightening at the Orlesian's familiarity with Dalish culture. "We had to disassemble the aravels, of course, and the halla got terribly seasick, and it cost us almost all the ironbark that we had to pay for the journey, but we made it, and the Sundermount is – well, it's nice enough, I suppose, though I do miss the Brecilian Forest."
"Your clan is at the Sundermount?" Talia asked. She couldn't imagine an entire Dalish clan taking up residence in Kirkwall, but seeing a lone Dalish in a dive bar like this seemed almost as unlikely.
Merrill nodded. "They are! I've been given leave to come here to do some … research." Her open face shuttered noticeably, and the sudden tension among her companions was hard to miss. A sidelong glance at Leliana told Talia that her bard had noticed, too.
"Is your mother well?" Leliana asked, adroitly shifting the attention to Devon and Bethany. "Lirene told us about Carver … I am so sorry." Talia added murmured condolences of her own. It was disheartening to realize that even those who had fled Ferelden had not remained untouched: death, slavery, even the second-class citizen status that they were relegated to in Kirkwall.
"Thanks." Devon's face was an impassive mask, though her eyes hinted at a well-guarded sorrow. Bethany echoed her sister, her own grief unhidden. "Mother is as well as can be expected," Devon went on, her lips quirking sardonically as she added, "I assume Lirene told you about our dear uncle's less than competent management of the family fortune?"
"Actually, a flower vendor in Hightown told us the story," Leliana replied. "We saw your family's mansion; it looks lonely."
"Who owns it now?" Talia asked. It seemed odd that the mansion would still be sitting vacant.
"Bunch of slavers that dear old uncle got into debt with," Hawke sneered. "Never thought anyone could make me look like an upstanding citizen, but he manages it handily."
"He did help us get into Kirkwall," Bethany offered mildly, "and let us stay with him."
"We got into Kirkwall by spending the last year working for mercenaries to pay off his debt to them," Aveline reminded her, lips thinned in distaste.
"And we pay the rent on that hovel that he so graciously shares with us," Devon added, her voice laden with sarcasm. "While he spends his coin drinking, gambling, and whoring."
"Is there anything we can do?" Leliana asked, looking troubled.
"How are you at getting rid of bodies?" Hawke responded without missing a beat.
"Devon!" Bethany exclaimed in dismay, but her sister only chuckled.
"I'm kidding, Beths," she assured her. "Mother is still fond of him for some reason, and I wouldn't want to upset her." She looked back to Leliana. "Thanks, but we've got it," she told them confidently. "Just a few more weeks, and I'll be buying the family estate back," her face hardened as she went on, "and dear old uncle will not be moving in."
"That's going to take quite a bit of coin," Leliana remarked, regarding Hawke suspiciously.
"All one-hundred percent legal," Devon proclaimed grandly, then grinned at Aveline. "Has to be, now that she's ruined my reputation by joining the guard. Varric here -" she nodded at the dwarf, "and his brother are raising funds to mount an expedition to the Deep Roads."
"The Deep Roads?" Talia nearly choked on her ale. "That's … not a good idea," she warned them. Leliana murmured agreement, her face noticeably paler. "Have any of you ever been in the Deep Roads?" Varric maybe, but the rest?
"Nope," Varric replied, seeming unconcerned by the admission. "My brother, Bartrand, was born in Orzammar, but I doubt he ever set foot outside it before coming to the surface. But he's got a line on an ancient thaig that was abandoned during the first Blight. Supposedly a fortune left behind, there for the taking."
"Even if that's true, nothing in the Deep Roads is there for the taking," Talia said grimly, feeling Leliana's hand gripping hers beneath the table. "You'll pay in blood for everything you get, and you'll be lucky if everyone comes out alive."
"We'll have plenty of men and supplies," Varric stated, though he did seem to be a bit sobered by her words. "We're pulling together investors now." He nodded at Hawke, then eyed Talia speculatively. "Interested? We could use the skills of a Grey Warden; I could probably convince Bartrand to give you a double share."
Leliana's grip on her hand tightened to just shy of painful, but Talia was shaking her head before the dwarf had finished speaking. "There's not enough gold in Thedas to get me back down there. I've had my fill of the Deep Roads and then some."
"I can see where you'd feel that way," Varric replied affably. "If you're interested in some easier coin, I could write your biography, give you – say, ten percent of the profits."
Talia blinked. "My biography?"
"Oh, Varric is a marvelous writer," Merrill said enthusiastically.
"Tethras," Leliana murmured, recognition dawning on her face. "You wrote Swords and Shields?"
"Not my best work, but yes," Varric replied with a resigned expression. "Have you read it?"
"No, but a few of the lay sisters in Lothering had a copy that they passed about and kept hidden from the Revered Mother."
"I think my brother's wife had a copy at Highever," Talia mused. That must have been where she'd seen his name.
"I could get you an autographed copy for her," he offered.
"She … died during the Blight," Talia replied, not wanting to go into greater detail. It didn't hurt as it once had, but it was still a painful memory, and not one that she cared to share with a table of relative strangers.
"Ahh, damn," Varric grimaced ruefully. "Sorry."
"No way you could have known," Talia said with a shrug.
"Guess you can kiss that book deal goodbye," Isabela snorted.
"There's actually a Chantry scholar who is already writing an account of the Blight," Talia replied, trying to be diplomatic. She had no interest in being the focus of a book.
"Oh, that is sure to be a page-turner!" the pirate exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
"Brother Genitivi?" Varric guessed, nodding knowingly. "Good writer for travel and general history, but a bit dry. For something like a Blight, you want a gripping narrative."
"And perhaps a little creative embellishment?" Isabela suggested with a smirk.
"Never without authorization," Varric protested, looking wounded at the suggestion.
"That time scarcely needs embellishment," Leliana said gravely.
"But the romance!" Isabela proclaimed grandly. "You can't tell me that a Chantry scholar is going to do that part justice!"
"That part isn't going to be in it," Talia replied firmly, feeling a bit queasy at the thought of what 'embellishments' Varric might come up with on the subject.
"Suit yourself," Isabela said with a mock pout, slouching deeper into her chair and draining her mug in three deep swallows. "Just don't expect me to run out and buy a copy."
"Wouldn't be your style anyway," Aveline remarked dryly. "No pictures."
"True enough," the pirate agreed, looking amused rather than offended. "I do have access to some very informative tomes, if you'd ever like to polish something besides your sword." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Fully illustrated throughout."
Bethany shot to her feet. "Devon, why don't we take Leliana to visit Mother?" Her tone was determinedly light, but her cheeks were flushed again.
"Sounds good," Hawke agreed, eyes dancing with amusement as she pushed her chair back and stood. Leliana and Talia followed suit.
"It was a pleasure to meet you all," Leliana said warmly.
"It was an honor to meet you both," Aveline told them. "It's good to know that the Blight is over."
"They'll be starting to bring people back soon," Talia said. "We talked with Lirene, and she'll be keeping a list." She kept the question unspoken, but the guardswoman shook her head.
"My life there is done," she said simply, faint sorrow touching green eyes. "I've made a place for myself here."
"Mother wouldn't want to go back, either," Devon agreed, then gave an easy shrug, "So we all stay. Ferelden's loss is Kirkwall's gain!"
"Just know that you're always welcome to return," Talia told them. "Or visit," she added to the rest.
"I'm stuck here for the moment," Isabela announced in disgust, adding in response to Talia's curious glance, "That's a tale for another time. You'll be around for a bit?"
"A few more days," Talia replied.
"You could come back, then!" Merrill said with enthusiasm. "Isabela is going to teach me to play a game called Wicked Grace; have you ever played it?"
"I don't think I have," Talia replied, glancing at Leliana.
"I've played a bit," the bard replied, her tone casual.
"A bit, eh?" Isabela grinned at her. "We could play the strip version."
"I prefer lower stakes," Leliana said smoothly. "Coppers will do."
"Or beans," Talia put in. Dried beans had frequently served in place of coin during games of chance in camp during the Blight.
Amber eyes cut to her, a lazy smile curving full lips. "Beans or bare skin?" the pirate mused. "How ever could I choose?"
"Wait." Merrill looked suddenly concerned. "Does 'strip' mean that we have to take our clothes off?"
"I'm joking, Kitten," Isabela assured her, adding to Talia, "Beans are fine for learning the game, but you'll need to bring them. I've lived on the damn things often enough that I don't buy them unless I have to."
"Deal," Talia agreed, turning to follow as Devon and Bethany began making their way to the door, "and the first round of drinks is on us, too."
A.N. - This one was fun to write, particularly the latter half. I was pleased that the DA2 crew's voices flowed as well as they did (and managed to shake the next chapter of Two Of A Kind loose as a bonus). I could have let them all bounce off of each other for another few thousand words, but I'm trying to keep a fairly tight leash on this one.
Last chapter in Kirkwall, but there will be a Stolen Moments entry coming.