The same longshoreman, pleased with the coin he had made ferrying her there, was hanging around the dock when Ten returned, and was happy to take her coin, herself, and her very large friend right up the river to where a staircase would get her up to the back door of Arl Eamon's estate, where the two of them found the two mages lounging in the common room, Wynne reading a book and Morrigan attempting what was apparently a new spell on a cockroach in a bell jar.

"Ah! Our taciturn friend has returned" asked Morrigan as Ten half stumbled into the common room, giggling to herself, "And you, why are you covered in orange hair? If it turns out you like gingers after all, the nun is going to be most offended."

"I do like gingers," said Ten, "They just have to be about yay big with whiskers."

"I see you have met Ser Bickington Mew of Chonkton," Sten said approvingly.

"What?"

"That is the creature's full name," said Sten.

"I did not realize he'd been knighted," Ten said, "How rude of me."

"She is female," Sten corrected her.

"I admit I did not look," Ten said, "The first Bicky was a boy." She paused, seeing Morrigan and Wynne staring at them in confusion. "We're talking about a cat," she clarified.

"I have been told that females are rarely orange," Sten said, "And so she is a little like you. Rare, but not unheard of."

"Do you not have cats in… wherever you're from?" asked Ten.

"They are much smaller and do not live in our homes," he said.

"The small ones don't generally survive their first run-in with a rat around these parts," Ten said. She turned to the mages, "Where are the others?"

"Zevran and Lelianna went out a few hours ago, I can only imagine what mischief they're getting up to," Wynne said, shaking her head, "As for Alistair…"

"Hasn't come out of his room all morning," Morrigan said, "Tells whoever knocks to piss off."

"Even me," Wynne said, "And he's never rude to me."

"I see discipline is lax in my absence," Sten said.

"Well he's gonna have to get his ass in gear for this one. We're going on a hunting trip."

"Are you going to put an arrow in him while his back's turned?" asked Morrigan, a little too hopefully.

"Not yet," Ten said.

"Hope springs eternal. Well, I won't come along but I will give you an alibi if he winds up dead," Morrigan said.

"I feel somehow that having an alibi from you would implicate me more," Ten said, "But no, I've fetched Sten because he has been wanting to face these creatures for months, and I've come for Alistair because… well obviously."

Morrigan whispered something unearthly beneath under her breath. The cockroach in the jar stood on its hind four legs and appeared to be… laughing? "Oh good, last time you left him behind to do something stupid and dangerous he was even more obnoxious than usual. I wanted to put a ward on his door so he couldn't bother the rest of us, Wynne and I nearly fought a duel over it."

"We did not nearly fight a duel," Wynne corrected her, "I told you if you wanted to do that you would have to fight me, and you backed down like the undisciplined hack you are." Her words were stern, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that told Ten she appreciated the younger mage's company.

"If you were any younger I would wrap you in vines for that, but what a waste of energy when I can merely wait for the gods to take you from us," Morrigan responded, "Tick tock, old woman."

"Do I need to separate the two of you?" Ten asked.

"No need," Wynne said, "She's all talk. You know that."

"Let me rephrase," Ten said, "Do I need to separate the two of you to keep you from engaging in some conspiracy that rips a hole in the very fabric of the world?"

"Well it would liven up the place," Morrigan said.

"Fair point," Ten said, "All right, well… ugh, why is it my job to save all the sorry men of this town from themselves?" Ten grumbled to herself as she stalked down the hall. She strode up to Alistair's door and rapped three times.

"Just leave me alone. Please," his voice came from inside, muffled, as though he were lying facedown.

"City guard, open up," Ten called.

She heard movement from within and the door opened. Ten had a sense of deja vu all of a sudden, for the second time that day, a man stood before her, stinking of liquor in front of a place in a moderate state of disarray. Alistair was at least fully clothed.

"Ten!" Alistair exclaimed, then looked sheepishly at the mess behind him, "I thought you were avoiding me. Usually when I wake up not remembering how I got to bed I've done something stupid, and you're the last person I remember talking to, oh… hello Sten."

Well, that makes my life less awkward. Thank the Maker for giving us the concept of blacking out.

The qunari wrinkled his nose. "Is this truly what you are like when left to your own devices?"

"You know," said Ten, "If you're constantly having nights you don't remember it's really… you know what, nevermind. I need your help. We're going on a hunting trip."

"A what? In this weather?"

"Not for game. We need to make a point here in terms so stark even the idiots in the peerage will understand the danger."

"How do you propose we do that… wait a second, you've been drinking."

"Sure have," she said.

"Great hypocrite you are."

"As between the two of us I'm the only one who remembers what dumb shit you did last night, so perhaps when you get a handle on it I'll stop commenting," she said again.

"Fine. Hunting trip. I'm not great with a bow, surely you'd want Lelianna."

"No. I need you. We're not going after ducks. As far as I can tell, the greatest cliff we need to scale in this whole… mess is convincing a large number of people that there are sufficient darkspawn to be called a 'blight,' what do you think would really drive that point home?"

"We are to collect as many heads as we can carry. It is an abhorrent plan. But it will be effective," said Sten, "As such, I endorse it."

"Maker's breath, again with the body parts!" Alistair exclaimed, "That said… that's actually a fairly good idea."

"I have in my possession a map of entrances to the Deep Roads," said Sten, "We cannot be so foolish as to enter, but from my research, they will be drawn to the presence of the two of you."

"So we sit there looking dumb, they pop their grisly little heads out, and are promptly relieved of said heads," said Ten,

"Finally, I'm being asked to do something I'm good at," Alistair said.

"The self-deprecation makes this whole thing far more depressing," Ten said, "Come on, let's get a move on. We're losing daylight."

It was a little bit refreshing not having to take every hit herself, being in the company of three creatures larger than her - the dog had, of course, insisted on joining. Ten felt a bit like she imagined a dowser must, wandering first in one direction and then another, in a desolate part of the north road Sten insisted contained an entrance to the vast underground network known as the Deeop Roads. She and Alistair would sort of go where they felt they must, each waiting for the jolt up the spine to tell them their quarry was near. They found what they were looking for when the two Grey Wardens nearly came to blows, each insisting that their quarry was in the opposite direction, only to have three of the grisly little fuckers pop right out of a hole in the ground neither realized was almost directly below them.

"Well that could have gone really badly," Alistair commented. He had been correct about the cold, the darkspawn seemed disoriented, and moved much more slowly than Ten remembered them back in the Wilds in the heat of summer.

"I fall in, I'm taking you with me," Ten announced, taking a head off with one blow of the ax Bannkiller.

It took the better part of the afternoon before Ten was satisfied with their haul, a large feed bag full of bloody heads, and they set off back for the city.

"It is curious how they are drawn to you," Sten said, "I wonder that more have not tracked us down during our travels."

"I imagine that dragon in the mountains had something to do with it," Alistair said, "The archdemon's convalescing, the others don't know what to do with themselves."

"Like wasps," Ten said, looking with disgust at the sack in her hands, "Lose the queen, they lose their shit. The others sort of wander around, they're attracted to certain things. Water. Sugar. But they're disoriented, they attack for no reason."

"How do you know that?" asked Alistair.

"Supplier screwed me with a shipment of fake toxins, so I threw a wasp nest through his bedroom window," Ten said, "After removing the queen for… my own purposes."

"All in all it sounds like it was more dangerous running a small business in Denerim than being an actual professional slayer of demons," Alistair said.

"It really isn't all that different," said Ten. They had reached the west gate as the sun was setting, and she pulled her hood down, though given how bundled up the guards at the gates were she imagined they were not inspecting everyone's ears too closely.

They took the dog back to the stables, where one of the twin footmen - Ten could tell them apart, but never remembered which was which - was giving the draft animals their evening feed. He looked up to see them, made a face at the questionable sack that Sten was carrying, and then his eyes fell on Pigeon, whose muzzle was stained black with foul blood.

"I'm not even going to ask," he said, shaking his head. He went to take the sack, thinking it was something it was his job to carry upstairs.

"Don't look inside," she admonished.

The young man, being a young man, immediately looked inside, made a highpitched noise, and dropped the bag on the ground. Ten sighed, and picked it up, replacing the two heads that had rolled out and tying it shut. "I told you not to look," she said, "I'm going to stash it with the others in the hayloft, just remember which one this is." She handed the bag to Sten and climbed the ladder into the hayloft. Sten handed the bag up to her, and she leaned it against one wall. If one was not looking too closely at the bulging shape of the heads against the burlap - or the few bloody black stains seeping through - it did not look all that out of place. It just has to keep for a few days, and it's cold.

She climbed back down where Alistair had sat the stable lad down on a haybale and was instructing him how to stop hyperventilating. Ten sighed and grabbed a flask from her pack. Sniffed it. Peaty whiskey from Amaranthine. She handed it to the lad, and he took a swallow, the color rising to his cheeks and his breath slowing.

"I told you not to look," she said.

"Sorry Missus," he sighed, "Couldn't help it."

"Yeah, well," she sighed, "If we're not lucky you're going to be seeing a lot more of those."

"Can't say I'm looking forward to it," the boy sighed. He took another gulp of the whiskey, shook his head rapidly, and rose from the hay bale, "I know better than to ask what they're for."

"I'm calling a commoner's council," said Ten, "They're for that."

"Really," he said, looking up at her.

"I'm not leaving something this important up to nobility," said Ten, "Look what they've done with the place, left to their own devices."

"I'll be keeping my opinion on this one to myself," the boy said, glancing nervously at Alistair.

"Oh don't worry about him," Ten said, "He barely counts. I fetched him out of a cell just last night, in fact."

The boy took a third drink of whiskey, "Fair enough. Say, um, this is probably a bad time, but I don't know when I'll have another chance. I've been meaning to have a word with you."

"With me? Do you need someone killed?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Not today," he said.

"You're" - Maker I hope I get this one right - "Thenlil, right?"

"Yes!" he said, looking relieved, "So, do you have a moment?"

"Sure," she said suspiciously. She turned to Sten and Alistair, who made to leave.

"No, I'd actually rather they stay," said Thenlil, "Do you remember me at all, from the Alienage?"

"Sorry, kid," she said, "I'm sure we've run across each other but if you work here I can't imagine our paths would have crossed that often."

"You're Shianni's cousin, you lived with her after her ma died," he said.

"Yes," she said, racking her brain.

"So you're her only family in town, right?"

"Right," Ten said suspiciously, "What about Shianni? She owe you money or something? I saw her earlier today, I'm sure she's good for it."

"No, no," he said, "I… well, you would be the person to ask permission to court her, yes?"

There was a long silence between them, interrupted by the shifting of draft animals, the rustling of hay, and Alistair turning to quietly laugh his head off in the corner.

"Are you taking the piss, lad?" she asked.

"No!" Thenlil exclaimed, his face going scarlet.

"I mean, I guess I am?" Ten said, thinking for a moment. She was the most senior member of Shianni's family, which, after all, really only consisted of the two of them. If things had not gone so horribly awry, finding the girl a husband would certainly have fallen to Ten. Of course, it was more proper to arrange a marriage, as Ten's own had been arranged, but it was certainly not unheard of. Her own parents, after all, had been a love match. And she imagined that at some point, a few decades in the past, her father must have gathered his courage and asked her grandfather the same question. Or, knowing her mother's reputation, perhaps it was the other way around, and it was Adaia who had come banging down Cedrin's door asking about his kid brother. And look how well that turned out for them. "You know we're in the middle of a war, right, kid?"

"Oh this is just precious," Alistair chuckled.

"And highly educational," Sten commented.

"Well, of course," Thenlil said, "I just… given everything that's happened…"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ten, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, it's just that, since the night of your wedding…"

Ten felt the blood rush to her face, "What are you saying, lad?" She advanced on him. He backed up, and fell back onto the haybale.

"It's just…"

"You think she's damaged goods now, huh?" Ten spat, getting up in the kid's face. Pigeon, always happy to back her mistress up, followed suit, cutting off his escape route and growling menacingly, "You think a couple of lords did to her what they do to all of us and you can just, what, take pity on her?! I don't give a shit who you work for, I will- "

"Ten, stop it!" Alistair shouted. He grabbed ahold of her elbow and pulled her back hard enough to get her off balance, "He didn't say that." Sten had gotten ahold of the dog's collar, and Ten realized why Thenlil had insisted they stay.

"I didn't mean it like that!" the boy exclaimed, "I just meant that you've been married now, you're the head of the family. I don't care about… that doesn't mean anything. Worse has happened to most of us…" Thenlil said, shooting Alistair a grateful look, "You really don't remember me, do you?"

She stared down at him. He wasn't all that remarkable looking. Sandy hair, pale skin, dark blue eyes, sharp chin, ears that lay flat against his skull, "I really don't."

"You gave me this," he said, pointing at the scar across his eyebrow, "You caught me in your flat. A few years ago now. I didn't even know you'd moved in."

Ten cast back all those years. Sure, she'd dished out a beating or two in that first year after Pali's death, when a lad was getting fresh with her little cousin. She'd had to. An orphan girl who everyone thought had nobody looking out for her was often easy prey for men, both elf and human. Shianni'd sulked after a few of them, when the lad had been one she'd fancied. She stared at him, trying to imagine the features in a younger man's face, and it came to her. He had been in their flat. In Shianni's bedroom. With the door closed but not bolted. Ten, being maybe eighteen herself, had not had many rules, but that was certainly one of them. She'd come home, called for her cousin to come eat what she'd brought home, and then opened the door when she didn't answer. Upon discovering what was within, she'd walked up to the boy without a word and pushed him through the open window. I suppose he's lucky it's a ground floor flat.

"She was fourteen," Ten said, "What was I supposed to do?"

"I was fourteen," he said, "You didn't even ask before throwing me out the damned window."

"Well I see I didn't put the fear of the Maker in you properly if you're coming to me six or more years later," Ten sighed, "She's never mentioned you."

"You made her very sneaky," Thenlil said.

"Yeah well, nothing prepared me to parent a teenager when I was also a teenager," Ten sighed, "All right, fine. You're grown now, and so's she." She extended her hand, helped him up, "You have a job at least. You know what she does for a living, yeah?"

"Yeah," Thenlil said, sensing the danger had passed and relaxing a bit.

"What's wrong with you, your dad couldn't find you a wife from outside?"

"My dad died when I was a kid. My ma's an invalid. It's not going to happen."

"And I'm taking you at your word that you're not related to her," said Ten, "You know what's going to happen to you if you're unkind to her."

"I have a good idea," said Thenlil.

"And after all that, after watching me walk in that door with a sack full of severed heads, you still have the stones to ask my permission to court her?"

"Yes."

"She's grown. You're grown," said Ten again, "Maker knows I don't have the energy or wherewithal to arrange a marriage for her." I was hoping to outsource that to Soris or my dad, but Soris is in no position or condition, and no family in the country is going to send their son on my dad's say-so. Not anymore.

"I promise you won't regret it," Thenlil said.

"Well, I hope she likes horses and you like cats," Ten sighed, "How about this, if you get all this blood off my dog and keep quiet about what's in the bag, I'll even refrain from talking shit about you to her when your back's turned."

"Deal."

"You know there's no guarantee she's not going to push you out a window herself," said Ten,

"I don't think she will," Thenlil said, looking at the ground, but Ten could see a smile playing about his mouth.

"Well good luck with that, I guess," she said, "As they say, your funeral." She turned, and saw that Sten had a notebook out and was scribbling something down, "Are you taking notes, Sten?"

"I am," he said, "I have not observed this ritual before. This is most strange. You threatened him several times, but in the end you agreed. Is there a rhyme or reason to this? Must the throwing him out a window come before the shoving him to the ground, or can they come in the other order?" He kept his notebook and quill out as the three of them left the stables and headed back to where they were staying.

"It's not a rit-," she said, "You know what? The threats are a part of the ritual. But it's up to the particular person to decide."

"Why did you agree?" he asked, "Are your people's marriages not arranged?"

"Mostly yes," she said, "But it's more complicated than that."

"How so?"

"Well, every so often, if you're unlucky enough to be in my cousin's position, without a proper head of the family, you can… are you still taking notes?"

"I am studying your culture," Sten said sternly, "Go on, please."

"If none of the bullshit had happened, if I were a married woman still tending my shop in the Alienage, I would certainly have found her a husband the proper way," said Ten, "But… I am not. In fact, the fact that I am who I am at this point basically closes off her prospects on that front. No family in Thedas will touch mine with a ten foot pole. So, he's a man with a steady job who isn't related to us, at least I don't think so, so this may be as good as it gets. And Shianni really, really wants to be married."

"Under what circumstances would you have refused, and would he have respected that?" asked Sten, "After all your first attempt to get rid of him went unheeded."

"Well, the persistence is kind of a virtue, ironically," said Ten, "And, as I understand it, it is actually bad form to refuse unless there is something genuinely wrong with the person, if their intended has expressed their dislike of them, if they're too closely related, or they can't keep a job or if they're a…"

"Criminal?" asked Alistair.

"Actually yes," said Ten, "Her association with me has made her untouchable to every respectable elf in Denerim, what happened to my husband makes her untouchable everywhere else. Maker knows she'd die alone if some poor fool without a family to disappoint didn't just… like her." She grimaced this last bit. It was a strange thought. Then again, given what she'd learned about her other cousin earlier that day… at least this one's not shem. Ha, that'll be the day, when one of them actually thinks to be respectful about it.

"You think that's strange," said Sten.

"Well, of course it's strange," said Ten, "That's not what we do."

"It is peculiar," Sten observed, "You spit in the face of tradition over many things. Yet, this, you seem oddly obstinate about."

"That's my little cousin, all right?" Ten said, crossing her arms, "I've been trying to keep her from getting hurt since I was a damned toddler. And I haven't always done a good job, just… let me have my angst about it, will you? Everyone else does."

"Did following tradition protect you?" Sten asked.

Ten froze. "You know what?" Ten said, "You go ahead. I've got more business in the stables."

Without another word, she turned and went back down the stairs and back to the stables, which Thenlil had thankfully presumably to give her dog the bath he had promised. She went for the feed bin first, finding an empty bottle with a note that said 'Nice try. Buy your own.' Damn it, Gwylan. She then looked up to the rafters. The bottle she'd left at the apex of the roof was still there. Well, if I got it up there, I can get it back. She got herself up to the hayloft, and, much like she had the first time, she swung across half the building to the central post, and snatching it, tucked it into her belt, and slid to the floor. Finding Jenny, who was quite stout and shaggy, her winter coat having grown out splendidly. She sat herself down beside the beast, stroking her main with one hand, and uncorked the bottle.