Of all of the people I expected to run into, Fenris had honestly been close to the bottom of the list.

In hindsight that was rather stupid of me. Considering that we were plotting a raid on a Tevinter-owned estate, right after repulsing an attack by Tevinter-paid slavers. I probably should have expected him to get involved.

Just, you know, maybe not in my house.

Fenris was giving me an irritated glare, completely ignoring the fact that Thrask was giving him one in return. Bound and kneeling between them, our prisoner was trying to hold herself as still as possible so as to avoid getting her throat opened by the ex-slave's blade.

And just to round things out, I could hear the confused and angry murmuring coming from behind me as half the Alienage crowded around my door.

Closing my eyes and counting to ten didn't help much. Especially since, when I opened them again, the situation hadn't improved any.

"...right." I said loudly, choosing the only plan I could think of. "I doubt he's a 'Vint since he's currently threatening to kill one. Varric? Merrill? Inside with me, please. Everyone else can go home for the night, we've got this handled."

I hadn't realized Elowen had gotten back from body-dumping-duty until she spoke up behind me. "We'll stand guard outside, lady."

A muscle in my cheek may have twitched at the honorific, but I didn't let myself snap at her. "There's going to be four of us and one of him. We don't need guards, the Alienage does. Get the gate closed, and a watch set for the night."

"...as you command, lady."

Fenris' glare had intensified at the deference to my orders, which my first clue that he was predisposed to not liking me. Well, my second clue after his initial glare on seeing me. Exhaling sharply, I sheathed my sword in a frustrated motion, finally walking into my own home. Varric followed more cautiously, while Merrill strode in far more casually.

"Oh!" She seemed to perk up on seeing him. Closing the door behind her. "He's a tall one, isn't he?"

"He is that." I agreed. Fenris had most of a foot of height on either one of us, making him by far and away the tallest Elf I'd ever met. More than that, he was very well built compared to his spindly in-game model. His sleeveless armor helped show off arms that wouldn't have any problems throwing around a giant sword.

I think he started to stay something, only for Thrask to lean in a bit, the prick of his sword nearly touching the other man's skin. He turned his formidable glare on the Templar, two otherwise handsome men competing for who could look the most scathing while the rest of us got settled.

Well, while Merrill and Varric got settled. Varric had used the time I'd wasted staring to slip around behind me, stealing my usual chair at the table. He at least kept Bianca in his lap, his finger lurking near the trigger while the business end stayed pointed toward Fenris.

"Are those Vallaslin?" Merrill asked, still sounding more interested than concerned.

"No, Lady Merrill." Thrask spoke before I could, his voice terse. "Those are lyrium brands."

Merrill's breath hitched for a moment. "Elgar'nan... that's..."

"Agonizing." I supplied. "Unholy. Insane. All of the above."

My roommate dipped her head, but my words drew a different reaction from Fenris. His upper lip pulled back from his teeth, anger biting into each word. "I do not need your sympathy, nor your stares, witch."

Well. He knew I was a mage then. No point in denying it. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"I-what?"

"Witch." I replied, "You said it like a curse, but as far as I know the word just means 'spellcaster lacking a penis'."

Varric snorted, while Merrill made an embarrassed noise. For his part Fenris gave me a disbelieving look, while Thrask let out a tight breath and spoke. "It has more connotations than that, my lady. Most of them very negative."

I shrugged, crossing my arms. "Maybe it does, but I've never heard of them. We can debate the quality of your insults later. For now I'll take a name."

For a moment I didn't think he'd give us one, then Thrask twitched his sword a little closer to his throat a second time.

"...Fenris."

Time to put him more off balance. "Fenris? As in the wolf?"

His lips twisted. "It means Little Wolf."

I snorted. "No it doesn't. It's an alternative spelling of the name Fenrir, According to the northern people, there's nothing little about him. He's the wolf that slays the gods and heralds the ending of the world. I think he grows to the size of a building... or a mountain. Or something. Point is, not little."

Fenrs blinked rapidly. "What?"

"He's Fen'harel? Is that just the northern Elven name for him?" Merrill asked, cutting in.

"Not quite, unless..." I paused, frowning, trying to think of how a Norse name could have ended up in Thedas. "Well... I don't know, honestly. Maybe that's where it came from? Few differences though. They're both god-like wolves that kill the rest of the gods, but Fenris only kills most of them, not all. Then one of the other gods kills him, I think. I don't remember the details. That religion is very weird. All of that is foretold to happen in the distant future, or something."

"Foretold? But what about-"

Our resident Templar cleared his throat. "Lady Maeve? Perhaps we should focus?"

I'd hoped to unbalance him a little more, but I supposed Thrask had a point. We had a prisoner who was still scared out of her mind, and we rather did need to know just what the hell Fenris was doing in my house.

"All right." I shifted my hands to my hips. "To finish our introductions, I'm Maeve. The handsome red-head is Ser Thrask, the dwarf with the titanic ego is Varric, and the adorable Dalish is Merrill."

"Charmed." Fenris managed to sound anything but. "I need to question this woman."

"That's pretty obvious. Why should we let you?"

"It is no concern of yours, mage." And he managed to make that word sound like a curse as well. His grating attitude was really killing any attractiveness he might have had. "I need to interrogate her about the location of a Magister. That is all."

"And why should I care?" I repeated. "We're the ones who took her prisoner. I didn't see you out there killing slavers with us. And quite frankly you're not giving us a reason to let you do anything with your shit attitude."

Fenris let out a quiet grunt, a quiet admission of the point maybe, before he pushed on. "I was prepared to intervene to deal with the Altus, but your pet Templar disarmed him before I could approach."

Ser Thrask huffed. "A difficult claim considering that you emerged from the Lady's bedroom. How would you have known what was occurring outside, craven?"

That insult made Fenris clench up in a way that my banter hadn't. "I was the informant who warned the Viscount's maids that an attack was planned. I planned to intervene earlier in the battle, before I learned that two apostates lurked here. Once I saw them, I was not going to risk myself unless absolutely necessary."

It was my turn to hum softly, frowning up at him. It made a degree of sense. I didn't think Fenris was the type to not kill slavers whenever he had the chance, but his utter loathing of mages was probably something that could hold that urge back. It was easy to imagine him lurking in an alley, being fully ready to wade in to the back ranks before he saw me and Merrill cut loose with our magic.

"If you really were one of the informants... then I suppose you can stay for the interrogation. You can ask your questions as well." I jerked my chin toward his sword. "That gets sheathed, and you stand off to one side."

"I will not disarm in the presence of-"

I cut him off, "You will if you want to stay in my home, and if you want to keep crossbow bolts out of your forehead."

He showed me his teeth in an unpleasant grimace, finally flicking his eyes to wear Varric was sitting unusually quietly.

"...your word, Templar." Fenris ground out. "That you will not attack my person."

"Given." Thrask replied. "So long as you obey the lady's commands within her home."

Fenris eyed him for a moment, "And that you will obey your order's tenants if they attempt to cast magic upon me."

"Should they do so, they will have good reason." He countered. "Lower your sword, serrah, or I shall be forced to apologize to the lady for spilling blood within her home."

It cost Fenris something to finally lower the sword, I think. To actually sheathe it. He certainly acted like there were weights around his ankles when he finally backed off, moving to loom in a corner. Merrill kept watching him curiously, while Varric did the same far more warily.

Thrask let out a tight breath, returning his blade to port-arms on his shoulder, some of the tension draining out of the room.

"You're being strangely non-verbose, Varric." I said into the awkward silence that followed.

The dwarf gave me a grin, "You had it handled, Buzz. Besides, I was thinking of a good name for our new friend. You think 'Spike' works? Or maybe 'Broody'?"

"Broody." I was already turning back to the prisoner, who'd sagged a bit in relief when the sword had been taken away from her throat. "He's definitely a Broody. You want to handle the interrogation?"

"Are you kidding? You're on a roll tonight."

Huffing out a frustrated breath, I took a step forward, then got down on one knee so that I could look our prisoner in the eyes.

Getting up close made it easier to look her over. Looked like she was in her early twenties at the oldest. Tanned skin, short black hair, rather plain features, unfortunately large ears. Brown eyes met mine for a brief instant before she quickly dropped her gaze back to the floor.

"Th-thank you, my lady."

I shook my head. "Don't thank me yet. Pretty much everyone thinks that we should cut your throat."

The woman winced. "...I won't tell anyone you're a mage, my lady."

"You're smarter than the average guard, aren't you?" I tapped a finger on my knee. "You figured out that concern pretty quickly. Still, I'm not sure I can risk our lives on the word of some 'Vint bitch."

"I... I do not blame you, my lady."

Fuck she really was going to make this difficult. Why couldn't she have been a typical racist thug? That would have made giving her to Elowen nice and easy. She'd finish her off, dump her with the rest of the bodies, and we could have gone on with our lives mostly guilt free.

Instead I was stuck with... well. Time to find out just who I was stuck with.

"She a mage?" I asked, directing the question to Thrask.

"No, my lady." He replied.

I exhaled, rubbing at my chin with one hand. "All right. I don't really care who your boss was, considering the fact that his blood is currently feeding the Vhenadahl. I want to know who the other mages are in the city, and just how they''ll react to tonight's events."

"Th-there are t-two." She stuttered out at once. "Altus Harach and Silus, brothers, m-members of House Salas."

Fenris stirred. "You lie. Magister Danarius is in Kirkwall."

Her head shook at once. "N-no. He... he sent agents, looking for... y-you, but he remains in Min-Minrathous."

He started to surge forward, drawing up after a long step when Varric lifted Bianca in warning. Not that it stopped him from growling again. "He has an estate in Kirkwall! He is here!"

"N-no! It's a t-trap for you! I swear it!"

Fenris opened his mouth, only for Varric to cut him off, "Settle down, Broody. Girl's telling the truth, at least as far as she knows."

"How do you know?" He spat.

"Because I'm damned good at reading people. I'm in the Merchant's Guild, I'd be dead otherwise. Settle down already."

It took him most of a minute, but he returned to lurking in his corner, scowling up a brand new storm.

"...definitely a Broody." Varric mused, "Good call, Buzz."

"Thanks." I replied dryly, turning back to our prisoner. "Back to our Altus brothers. I need to know their skills, favorite spells, and the number of guards they'll have left. Anything on their routine as well."

She nodded quickly, spilling her guts with barely any further prompting.

The Salas brothers were the youngest children of their family, sent south by their father to serve the man we'd just killed out in the square. Both to build connections between a pair of Houses, and to avoid them being drafted and sent to Seheron to fight. Supposedly neither was all that good with combat magic, nor were they healers. They liked glyphs, enchantments, and were making a few stabs at rift theory.

I fought down a shudder at the last one. I really hoped to never see an actual rift, spilling demons out into reality. With my luck the first out would be Longing, and she'd never leave me alone.

"They like research and theory." Our prisoner, I didn't know her name nor want to know it, kept babbling. "They know basic flame spells, but not more than that, lady. Their guards will be the real danger."

There would be six of those, all armed and armored just as she and her compatriots had been. Where the brothers were apparently indulging in lazy hedonism, the guards were doing their best to keep the young noblemen safe. She wasn't sure what their new watch schedule would be, after losing herself and the others tonight, but she didn't think they knew about the tunnel entrance. She hadn't, at least.

"Thank you." I said when she finished. "Now tell Broody over there everything about the other 'Vint estate."

She knew all about that; her dead lord had been the one to trap it for Denarius, in exchange for a giant pile of gold.

The deceased 'Vint had apparently been a necromancer of some renown. He'd seeded the mansion with more than a dozen spirits, bound to old corpses, then trapped them in some kind of stasis that would only break when someone breached the mansion.

Fenris nodded slowly, as she did her best to describe where the various traps and corpses had been left within the building. "How would Danarius know that his trap succeeded?"

"I d-don't know. My lord didn't t-tell us."

That drew yet another scowl, but he glanced to Varric first that time. When the dwarf merely nodded, he slowly relax. "I see. And Danarius had no intention of coming to Kirkwall?"

"N-no. We were g-going to take you back to Minrathous once you were c-captured." She gave me a guilty look. "Once we... had enough c-cargo."

And that was about the extent of her knowledge. Well, as far as we cared about at least.

That left the looming question of the evening to deal with.

Silence fell after my last demand for information. A look around the room showed that everyone was looking my way, clearly waiting for me to give my opinion first. Merrill was chewing on her lip, clearly uncertain. Fenris was brooding, glaring. Varric's poker face gave me nothing. Thrask... looked resigned.

Our prisoner was probably a coward, but she wasn't stupid. She'd folded the instant the battle was lost, and hadn't hesitated to blurt out every secret of her countrymen in the hopes that it would save her life.

She seemed to know what the silence meant. What the looks meant.

"...my name is Livia." She whispered, desperately trying to meet my eyes with hers. "Mercy. Lady."

...fuck.

Now I knew her name.

I didn't want to know her name.

That made her a person. Someone with hopes, dreams, fears. A life they wanted to live. It was hard to kill someone I knew was an actual person. Hard to run my sword through 'the girl named Livia'. It would have been much easier to cut open the 'random Vint bitch who helped her master enslave people'.

Dammit.

I slowly pushed myself to my feet, and made the only decision I could. "Thrask? Take her to the back wall of the Alieange. There's a few shacks there. Keep her tied up but give her some water. She'll be our prisoner until we deal with the estates, then we'll put her on the first ship to Ferelden."

Livia's eyes welled up in tears immediately, "Thank you. Thank you. Andraste blesses you."

"...are you certain, my lady?"

"Do it." I said tiredly. "Then get home. We'll see you tomorrow for planning our attack on the estate."

He let out a heavy sigh, but obeyed for some reason. Livia kept crying as he got her to feet, shuffling along in front of him without prodding.

"Fenris?" I asked, "We're attacking the first estate in two days. Help us with that, and we'll help you clear out the other one the night after."

The tall man grunted. "And if I refuse to work with mages?"

I shrugged. "Then we'll probably clear it out anyway, strip everything valuable we can, then burn whatever is left."

"And if I turn you in to the Templars?"

"Then Merrill and I go on the run, and Varric arranges for your death." I replied.

Varric huffed but didn't deny it, while Fenris merely shook his head. "...I will consider it."

"Hanged Man tomorrow night, sometime around seven bells. That's our final planning session. If you're not there we'll assume you decided against it."

He gave us a final, noncommittal sound, then followed Thrask and Livia out the front door. Without thanking us for letting him interrogate her, or for revealing that his ex-master wasn't even in the Free Marches. Typical.

Varric waited until he closed it behind him before speaking, his voice low. "How long till you ask Elowen to cut the girl's throat in her sleep?"

"Soon as I drink enough wine to help me sleep after I do."

Merrill's face fell at once. "Oh. I... do we have to?"

"She's a coward, Merrill." I sighed. "She told us everything she could think of, and we didn't even seriously threaten her. Worse, she's a smart one. We cut her loose? She'll go straight to the Templars and tell them everything about us in exchange for a trip home. Maybe I'm wrong, but we've already got a risk with Fenris. Taking a second risk on her isn't smart."

"She's right, Daisy." Varric sighed. "It's not pleasant, but letting her live is a stupid risk to take for you bouth. The two of you would have to go on the run. Live in the wild."

"Oh." She repeated softly. "I... don't think we'd do very well. Not without a clan to keep us safe."

I nodded her way. "Exactly. As it is, I'll need to ask Thrask and Brennan to have runners ready in case Fenris goes to the Guard or Gallows."

"Speaking of," Varric settled Bianca in next to his chair. "Why don't you want him removed too?"

Because he was a Named Character. Because I didn't know what the hell would happen if we started killing those off. Because...

"...I've heard about people with lyrium brands like that." I said. "It gives them... powers of a kind. I don't know how much of it is just bullshit, but he wasn't any less dangerous just because he lowered the sword."

He snorted. "Heard about them, huh. You seem to know a lot of things that you've only ever heard about."

"I drink and I know things." I quoted back at him.

"...that's actually a good one." Varric chuckled, "I'm stealing that, know right where I can put it in the next serial."

I could only shrug. I'd stolen it to begin with, "So. How about we skip your attempts to trick me into admitting I'm an Orlesian bard, and move on to the part where I get drunk enough to not care I'm about to order a crying woman's throat to be cut open?"

"I've got a meeting remember." He replied, standing with a quiet groan. "I'm late enough as it is. Merrill? Make sure she doesn't drown herself in booze."

Merrill didn't look very confident. "I'll do my best."

I ignored them both, walking over to my wine rack and grabbing the first two bottles I could get my fingers around.

It wasn't smart... but it was the only way I was going to get through the night.

Heh. I could roast thugs alive, literally, and not feel a twinge of guilt. But one prisoner who had to be silenced before she had the chance to talk, and I completely fell apart...

...there was something seriously wrong with me... yet I couldn't really bring myself to care.

Fucking Thedas.