They ran out of the good stuff in about an hour, and then ventured back out into the streets where Nath Lin had apparently opened his vast stores of whatever had fallen off a wagon over the years. Not a people given to doing anything half-heartedly - especially not when public drunkenness was involved - Teneira's people had caught up to their neighbors by the time the winter sun had begun to dip beneath the rooftops to the west. With the sun went whatever paltry warmth had belonged to the day, and even Ten and her liver of steel admitted it might be time to call it a night.
Outside the Alienage, the fires had been quenched, and the streets were empty except for a few folks, dismayed and sober, doing their best to clean up.
"I can't believe that's where you grew up," Alistair said as the two of them half stumbled, half slipped over the bridge and into the Docks district.
"You've been doing better lately, but you have to know that was incredibly tone-deaf," said Ten, resentment bubbling up, "Do you think regular people live in castles?"
"No, that's not… all right, I can see how that sounded bad. Sorry. What I meant was… I understand austerity. Chantry and all that. We were always a little bit hungry, but that was on purpose. You were really doing your best, and that still wasn't enough to keep the holes in the roof patched."
"And this is news to you, how?"
"Oh, I don't know. There's the idea of the humble hardworking peasant, grateful for his potato and cabbage soup praising the Maker for every drop, and you're not like that at all… I kind of sound like a prick right now don't I."
"Yup," Ten said. At the crest of the bridge she looked back at the silhouette of the ramshackle buildings, realizing that while she might return, they would never really be her home again, "Urban poverty is its own beast. You're probably not going to starve or freeze to death like in the countryside. Everyone gets just enough to keep on. But that's death as well, it just takes longer. Long enough to grind the kindness right out of you and drive you to the bottle."
"Or to a life of crime."
"All three actually," Ten said, hefting the clay jug she'd lifted from Nath's store and taking a swig.
"Where were you hiding that?"
"Criminal," she said, by way of explanation, "But, there's going to be changes. This was the greatest solidarity among the common folk of this town I've ever seen."
"What exactly did you do?"
"I called in some colleagues," she said, "They persuaded their people to riot," the liquor loosening her tongue.
"So what, just a vast conspiracy?"
"Of course, but what is government but a conspiracy among the aristocracy to fuck the rest of us over?" The liquor had, evidently, also put her in a ranting mood, "I just did what they do every single day. Oh, let's start a war, guess the funds for orphans are getting cut. Double tariffs on imports to punish some foreign noble who looked sideways at me at a party! Who cares who starves as a result?"
"But you played ball with the aristocracy."
"They played ball with me," Ten corrected.
"Because you blackmailed them. It wasn't just the queen, was it. You had something on every single member of that meeting, didn't you."
"Queen regent," said Ten, "And yes, of course I did. How else do you think you can turn the heads of those usually concerned with nothing more than lining their own pockets?"
"Still, it's underhanded, isn't it."
"Listen here, chantry brat," she said, turning on him and planting the first two fingers of her right hand in the middle of his chest, "You have to choose. You can be good, or you can be pure. You can't be both, because the people in charge of this fucked-up world are neither."
"Aaaand you're in ranting mode. All right, Ten. There's no stopping you now, what's your sermon on this point?"
"No, listen. Nothing, and I mean nothing we have accomplished in the last several months would have happened if I hadn't been willing to bend the rules. Go behind everyone's back, even yours. And I have done you the courtesy of keeping your lily-white hands clean for most of it, but… I'm done. Being pure is easy. You go to morning prayers, you fast when you're told to fast, recite what you're told to recite, and that's good enough for the Maker. But being good is a lot fucking harder. You make hard choices. You overthink every little decision. I've been doing that for the both of us, but I'm done doing the hard part alone. " She punctuated every point with another poke, the last of which nearly had him sliding backwards on a particularly icy bit of street.
"Well how can I help when you keep me in the dark half the time?!" he said, finding his feet, taking her by the wrist, and removing her finger from his chest, "You can't possibly be angry that you've been doing it all alone when you refuse any and all offers of help and make sure I never know anything that's going on. If you want me to share the burden, then be honest with me for once."
"You know what? You fucking asked for it," said Ten, pulling her wrist out of his grasp, "You ask me whatever questions you want, and I will answer them as honestly as I can. But you do not get to be pissed off when you don't like all the answers."
"Why'd you have Teyrn Loghain poisoned? That whole Landsmeet would have voted for him to be executed. I'm still fairly annoyed by that, actually."
"Look, I know you really, really wanted that catharsis," she said, softening her tone, "And I'm sorry. But it was a difficult needle to thread. I don't know how I could have gone about it the proper way without it turning into a total disaster."
"I understand why you did it," he said, "But I don't like it."
"You will have many years to have vendettas against all sorts of other people," Ten said, "You can start with me if you'd like."
"What, so you can send a message to your new best friend and tell her you changed your mind?"
"I don't think you could do anything that would make me hate you enough to decide to give that crazy bitch the satisfaction," she said, then paused, "That's not an invitation to try."
"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to call the queen… that."
"Queen regent. But look, how do you think that would have gone? What, we put her in Fort Drakon and the poor kid gets raised by who? If what we were avoiding was a confused orphan with abandonment issues at the helm of the nation, why would we sign up for another generation of that?"
"I don't have… all right maybe I do. Fine. Point taken. Are you going to keep letting Arlessa Isolde get away with what she did? I know why you initially did it, but we've gotten what we needed out of her."
"Why would I turn on her now? I feel sorry for her. She's been alone her whole adulthood. The only thing she loves in this life is her son, and she thought she had a way not to lose him."
"You feel sorry for the blood mage too?"
"Yes," said Ten, "He probably spent his whole life in that tower. Since he was knee high. He didn't know anything else and he fucked with some shit he shouldn't have, it doesn't make him a monster."
"So what happens when you feel sorry for someone you oughtn't have?"
"I wind up agreeing to be interrogated in the middle of the street on a dark winter's night." She turned and started walking, standing still had the chill starting to seep into her bones.
"Fair enough, I suppose I deserved that," Alistair sighed, and went after her, "What'd you have on the banns?"
"Gross sex stuff mostly," Ten said, "They really are a depraved bunch."
"Really, like what?"
"I don't think you're prepared for this."
"You promised."
"Fine," Ten said, and launched into a twenty-minute list of all the horrible things she now knew about who liked to do what with men, women, animals, and corpses, not letting Alistair get a word in edgewise to tell her to stop, and delighting in every gag of disgust and grimace of horror. At the end, he was silent for several blocks.
"I didn't even know half of that was possible," he finally said.
"Why, did something in there pique your interest?"
"No!"
"I dunno, sounds like you're protesting a bit too much."
"So you're saying this country actually is just run by a bunch of deviants?"
"Oh I'm sure it's not just this one. You should hear what the Orlesians get up to."
"I don't think I'm ready for that."
"Nobody is. I honestly think it's a side effect of getting whatever you want, whenever you want it. You get tired with all the normal stuff."
"Almost makes what the queen did sound boring."
"Queen regent."
"Kind of ironic that after all that nonsense there actually will eventually be a grandkid of old King Maric on the throne."
"I suppose," said Ten, "Hey, you're getting a new niece or nephew too! I'll get you one of those nice Antivan cigars. I know a guy."
"Still don't smoke."
"Now that is a lie," she said, "You took a puff in there."
"Your cousins would have taken the piss out of me if I hadn't. What was that about, anyway? You know I hate when I'm not in on a joke."
They had made it most of the way through the Docks district at this point. The lamplighters had not been around, likely having taken part in the general bullshit that had gone on that day, but the half-moon was bright, reflecting off the harbor and the snow piled up on each side of the street. Ten walked up to the rail that separated the street from the dock, climbing up on a crate, leaning against the railing and looking out to where the moon laid a path on the water. "You have to promise me you're not going to lose your shit," she said, addressing the hulk of a frigate further out in the harbor.
"Me? When have I ever done that, except probably about every three days since you've known me."
"And a solid week at the beginning."
"To be fair about three quarters of the people I had ever known in my entire life had just been slaughtered while I watched from a tower."
"Not saying you didn't deserve to. And honestly given how close to the block you got today I'm impressed you haven't been moodier."
"You weren't going to let that happen."
"How do you know that?"
"You've got a soft spot for me, it's actually kind of amusing."
"Well don't go around advertising that."
"Didn't hear a denial."
"And you won't, just keep it to yourself, will you?"
"Oh I will. But tell me what happened there in your flat. Why was everyone staring at me?"
Ten opaused, remembering that this actually was likely to be a difficult conversation and she could not put it off with banter forever. She examined the silhouette of the Antivan flag on her frigate, and said, mostly to herself, "My cousins are such assholes."
"Well that clearly runs in the family. What variety, though?"
"They were trying to drug you. It was a mild hallucinogen. It grows in ditches. Dry it. Burn it. See things," she said, "Shianni thought she was being funny. She's really not a bad sort. She had no idea what kind of day you'd had, and I'm sorry about that."
"Hallucinogen. Like… the funny mushrooms?" he said.
"Yeah," said Ten, "This one's not so strong. It doesn't last very long either. It kept it around for when coppers would come by and I needed to scare the piss out of them so they'd leave us alone."
"But it didn't actually do anything."
"Apparently not."
"Why were they so sure that it would? And how come you all weren't seeing things?"
"Well…" said Ten. She paused, hoping the information would not send him spiraling, "Thing is, it doesn't work on elves. Or elf…uh… admixtures," She looked out over the water, bracing herself for whatever reaction the information would bring. The sky was clear above her, but she could see the dark wall of a stormfront rolling in westward from the sea, the bright moonlight highlighting every contour of that black stack of clouds. They had some time, but the snow would be coming.
There was a long silence, and then a thump as Alistair sat down heavily on one of the crates stacked against the railing, waiting to be loaded onto ships the next morning, "Your boy cousin said my mum had some explaining to do."
"Never listen to anything out of that man's mouth, he's actually just kind of a prick."
"Well, he was wrong about that part. I mean it's fairly clear who my father was. But it does beg a few questions, doesn't it. Never actually laid eyes on my mother, after all. And the official line was always a little bit... fishy."
"Look, they don't exactly give labs to unsanctioned pharmacists like me to do double blind studies on the stuff. For all I know whatever trait makes you immune to it is just less common in humans. Or maybe your ma was just one of those human-looking halfbreeds like Ioan, which would be a great joke on Driscoll MacCathail. It doesn't mean Eamon lied."
He didn't respond for a long time. The soft creaking of wood on the docks was deafening. She heard him catch his breath.
Please don't start crying. Ugh, I should have known this was going to happen. Should have kept my whore mouth shut.
He was not, however, crying. The one catch became another, and he was chuckling, then laughing out loud, sitting there on the crate, leaning forward on his elbows. She stood back, watching him trepidatiously. Well shit, he's finally cracked. I suppose we all knew this day was coming.
"It... probably does though," he said between bouts of laughter, "This whole… fucking… time."
"I'm not saying anything."
"You're right, Ten," he managed to squeak out, his voice taking on a manic edge, "You've been right all along, haven't you. Nobles just… they always do just the worst thing imaginable. I thought you were exaggerating the first time you told me that, that you just had a chip on your shoulder, but the more I see the more I realize… they're all scheming, lying, twisted..."
"We don't know anything, do we."
"No, no, hear me out, I've only been turning this over in my head my entire life," he said, "See, at first it seems like a simple story. Widowed chambermaid's in the family way, she dies, send her daughter off, raise her son, right? Except it doesn't actually stand up to literally any scrutiny."
Oh boy. Here we go. He's been listening to my conspiracy theories too long and he's just lost his mind.
"Don't look at me like that, it's not that crazy. See, it's actually been bothering me ever since I encountered Goldanna's name several years ago. You see, there was no real reason to send her away. Sure, she was young, but plenty of young kids work in service. There are orphan homes in the Hinterlands. Why clear on the other side of the country?"
"You said her dad had family out here, right? Maybe they wanted her."
"No, they didn't. Girls who are wanted by their families don't wind up stuck in marriages to abusive pricks like Driscoll MacCathail."
Ah, shit, he's gotten past putting two and two together and is on to the complicated math.
"It still happens," said Ten.
"Come on, Ten. You and your dad don't even get along, but let's pretend you did what he wanted and married whatever idiot he found for you when you were a teenager. Do you think if you showed up on his doorstep with a split lip he'd have let that slide?"
"Probably not," she said. Don't know what he'd have done about it, but he'd probably at least try to give the man in question a stern talking-to. At the very least he'd have let me come home.
"And then… and then. What Goldanna said when we wound up at her flat over the summer. Someone lied to her. Told her I died. Why?"
"That's what she said, but I don't know that she was telling the truth."
"She seemed quite sure of herself. And then what she said about her mother."
"Her" mother. Not "our." He's made up his mind, hasn't he.
"All she knew was her mum died from a fall off a cliff. She thought it was suicide, but all she actually saw was the body, right? That doesn't happen all that often out there, despite the opportunities. And, I'm sure you know far more about this than I do, but… it just doesn't make sense. Why wait nine months to end it all?"
"Alistair, I don't think what goes on in the head of someone inclined to do themselves in would make a lot of sense to either of us."
"No no, stop it with the gentle voice, I'm not a child. This… makes it all make sense, don't you see?"
It really, really does.
"You're going down a really dark road here, and I don't think there's anything worth seeing at the end of it."
"Oh fuck off, Tabris. Don't pretend you wouldn't worry this to death if it were you. See, it just doesn't make any sense unless there was some deep, dark secret about me that it was worth getting rid of two women to keep," His voice was getting manic, "Royal bastards are a dime a dozen, apparently, that's not any great secret, but…"
Ten closed her eyes and sighed. "But a halfbreed one is worthless and it's easier to pass one off if nobody's left alive to say otherwise. You're right, you've painted a plausible picture, but this is pure speculation."
"And the greatest joke of all is that it doesn't even matter anymore, does it," he said, looking up at her, "It doesn't fucking matter." The laughter had crept back into his voice, "As of eight or so hours ago, where I came from is worth less than nothing. Despite Eamon's plots and probable …murder… and lying and… shit. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. I'm officially nobody."
"It's not a bad thing. It means you get to finally make a few decisions for yourself, doesn't it."
"Fine. Well then. Decisions. Number one, I'm not going back to that estate, Ten. Not tonight. I don't want to share a roof with that… man. He lied to me my entire life so he could play his game, which just nearly got my head lopped off, and I do not appreciate it."
"He did apologize for the latter bit," Ten pointed out. She truly did not want to go back there either, but also couldn't imagine going back to either the house she had shared with her father, or her cousin.
"And I probably will forgive him, but not right now."
"Your life's in your own hands."
"Yes, I suppose it is. I can do what I want with whatever time I have left, I suppose. But…. the thing is, you were wrong before, I don't actually have many years. Not for vendettas, not for anything."
Great, another spiral.
He didn't seem to be losing his shit, though. He looked a little amused, frankly. He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes on the ground. "So," he said, not looking up, "Number two. I have to say it before the next thing comes along to relieve one of us of our heads. Ten, I have feelings for you. Not… like a friend. Well, like that too, I suppose, but that was not my point… so, I guess that's out there now and… you don't have to say anything. If you'd prefer, we can just go on about our business like nothing happened."
"Huh," Ten said, the only thing that came to mind. Indeed, for what seemed the first time in her life, her thoughts did not race one way or another. It was as though that part of her that analyzed every situation, provided running commentary, articulated the things she needed to pay attention to had absolutely nothing to say. Well shit, I don't know what to do. You have absolutely nothing to gain here. Or lose. Overthink at your own peril.
"That's what you have to say?"
She snapped back to attention. Alistair looked nervous, but still a little amused.
"You said I didn't have to say anything," she pointed out.
"But you didn't not say anything, you said 'huh.'"
"I guess I'm a little surprised. I mean you definitely tried it on with me before but I didn't really think there was much behind it."
"I… what?"
"You were clearly blackout drunk at the time and, while I have my vices, I'm not in the business of leading callow young men astray unless they're absolutely sure they want me to."
"I suppose I should be grateful you didn't stab me."
"You weren't rude about it or anything. You were just shitcanned and depressed and thought getting under my skirts was going to fix all the hurt the world has put on you."
"Shit. I knew the drinking was going to bite me in the arse one day."
"Well, that's… that is what it is, but… oh I don't know, shouldn't you have some sweetheart out in the ass end of nowhere? Like some wholesome farm girl named Molly or Hildy or something who wears cute aprons with strawberries embroidered on them waiting by the window for you to come home?"
"Ten, I don't even have a home."
"All right, but… I have no idea what to do with this information."
They stood there at detente for a moment. Evidently, neither of them did.
Alistair cracked first. "Well… I suppose I was rather hoping you'd tell me you felt the same way and throw yourself into my arms, but I suppose the other option is to tell me I'm delusional and to fuck right off. I'll stalk off into the night, sulk for a few days, and be over it before we're back on the road and truly cannot avoid each other."
Ten didn't realize she was shaking her head vigorously until a clump of snow fell out of her hair, melting instantly against the side of her neck, which she likewise hadn't realized was hot with the blood that had risen to her face. "That's not what I meant. Look, I'm also still wrapping my head around what happened earlier today. Alistair, do you know what being broken on a wheel entails?"
"I actually don't, Templar instruction focused more on extracting confessions of apostasy than actual means of execution. I could tell you a few things about a little device called the heretic's fork…"
"And that's why Hildy in the Hinterlands has no use for you. In any case, being broken on a wheel means someone with a large hammer and strong stomach shatters every bone in your limbs, then weaves your now very squishy arms and legs through the spokes of a giant wheel, and then they leave you there like that until you die, sometimes of shock, sometimes of thirst, but I suppose exposure would have probably done it at this time of year," she said, "But it takes days."
"That's somehow far more horrifying than I thought."
"That's what I signed up for. For you. And the thing is, I probably could have found another way around it," she said, eyes on the ground, watching the snow accumulate at her feet, "But… I razed the whole thing to the ground. The most important secret I know, I put it in play because in that split second, I realized that if I didn't, if I tried to get around it, tried to find another way… I couldn't live with the uncertainty of what was going to happen to you. Not to the cause, not to the Wardens of Ferelden. To you specifically."
He stood there another moment, his face first completely befuddled, but then lighting up in the familiar grin that Ten had not seen in far too long, "Wait, really?"
"It was a surprise for me too."
He nodded, the smile not leaving his face. He closed the distance between them in a single stride, stooped and kissed her cheek, gently but deliberately, below her right eye. She froze, just stood there, feeling like nothing more than she had when a mage had hit her with a lightning spell, the rhythm of her heart completely out of whack and everything going a bit wobbly around the edges. Oh shit. That's it, isn't it. That's the big deal. That is… why people fight duels and write those godawful ballads isn't it. Shit. All right. Well… I'm just as much of a dead girl walking as I was the last time I did something reckless. Fuck it. She reached up, took his face in both hands, and caught his mouth with hers. He was surprised, but made no move to stop her, putting his arms around her, pulling her in closer, but letting them rest chastely in the middle of her back. And why not? I'm still a woman, right? The Deep Roads don't have me yet. Why can't I have something amid all the horrors?
"Get a room!" the shrill cry came from an apartment above them. They sprang apart as though they'd been caught at something.
Oh right. Because there are nosy, racist people just all over the place.
"Shit," Alistair muttered, a little embarrassed, "I suppose that's not a thing grown folks ought to be doing in public." Even though the moonlight had been nearly swallowed up by the spreading clouds, she could see his cheeks were scarlet.
"Nah, fuck that," said Ten, feeling giddily emboldened, "This is Denerim. People do all sorts of things in public. That's not why she has a problem." She backed up against the rail so she could see where the call had come from. "Who the fuck has something to say to me?!" she shouted. She reached down and found the neck of the jug she'd lifted from Nath's where she had put it down next to the stack of crates. There wasn't much left.
"Oh run off back to the gutter you came from!" the upstairs resident retorted, "Knife-eared slut!" Yup. There it is. Ten could see which window now, a candle having been lit behind it.
"Come down and say it to my face, bitch!" Ten took down the rest of the moonshine in the jug in one go and turned it in her hand so the neck of the jug was clutched in her right fist.
"Really? You're going to fight some random woman in the street with a bottle?" Alistair asked, "Come on, let's get out of here."
"Young man!" the voice called, though whomever it belonged to still didn't show her face at the window, "What are you doing here with a girl like that? Wouldn't your parents be ashamed!?"
This set the both of them laughing for a solid three minutes before a face appeared in the window. It belonged to a haggard woman in her fifties with her hair up in rags, a pitcher of water in her one hand, clearly intending to dash it over both of their heads if they didn't clear off. Up and down the block, the windows had begun to open, a few dozen citizens eager to get a glimpse of the street fight that was surely to come.
"City people are so weirdly aggressive," Alistair said.
"It's fun for us," Ten said, "You know, when the plagues and the rent hikes and the refugee crises become too boring we just beat the shit out of each other for amusement." She looked back up at the window, throwing one middle finger in the air, "Too chickenshit to come down here, bitch?!"
"You're not worth it," the upstairs tenant declared snootily, though it was obvious that she simply did not want to chance actually getting into a brawl with an elf half her age who was very clearly not all right in the head. The window shut, the face and the candle retreated. Ten stood there, still energized, staring up as the light faded as the woman accepted her defeat, willing her to come down the stairs and make something of it.
"Decision number three. Ten, if you throw that bottle through that window right now I am not going to laugh," Alistair warned, "Well... maybe a little bit, but it's winter, and she probably doesn't have the money to have it fixed."
"Fine," Ten conceded, then reared back and threw the empty jug so it shattered against the shingled outer wall of the building just to the right of the window, not close enough to break any glass, but definitely making whoever was in there jump.
Alistair, realizing with no small amount of chagrin exactly what he'd gotten himself into, grabbed Ten's elbow then, and all but dragged her down the street and into an alley several blocks away while she shouted a final "Fuck youuuuu!" to her anonymous foe.
In the alley, she laughed until she couldn't anymore, and, spent, looked up at where Alistair was pacing in front of her, no doubt wondering what, if anything, he could do if someone had followed them.
"Look," she said between dying spurts of laughter, "You knew exactly who I am, but I don't blame you if you're regretting it already. Nobody important saw us. We can still blame the liquor and forget anything happened."
"No, no… it's not that. It's just it's occurred to me we have nowhere to go at this point. I'm not going back to the estate and you're not going back to the Alienage."
"Well it occurred to me I still have the spare key to Ioan's apartment," she said, "And if we are where I think we are it's not three blocks away."
"Is that weird?"
"Oh, extremely," Ten said, "But there's a storm coming in and it's already been the second longest day of my life. You can sleep on the couch if you'd feel better about it." She looked up and down the street, situating herself, and took off in the direction she was fairly sure was the right one. It took Alistair a couple of minutes to catch up with her.
"Wait… you mean… the other… that's an option?"
She paused on the stairs up to the back door and looked back at him, her face a mix of pity and disbelief, then shook her head and got up to the door. "The Chantry truly is a curse on the world."