peopleofthedas | Vir Lath Sa'vunin Chapters Forty-Three and Forty-Four

A Dalish-centric AU gen fic featuring two Mahariel Wardens, one bastard prince, and lingering ghosts.

Title: Vir Lath Sa'vunin (We Love One More Day)
Rating: T
Authors: twist_shimmy and lenna_nightrunner
Post Word Count: 4100
Summary: When their parents died, Tesni Mahariel was left to raise her brother Caerwyn with the help of the rest of their clan. True to their penchant for getting into trouble, Caerwyn and Tamlen went hunting one day and ran afoul of a mirror, of all things. The next thing Tesni knew, Caerwyn had been recruited by the Grey Wardens. As if she’d let some shemlen just take her brother away! Determined to keep Caerwyn safe, Tesni goes after them, and antics ensue. She’ll stop the Blight to protect her family, Caerwyn will help--grumbling all the while--and Alistair will do his best to bond with his tattooed and bristly new brethren. When all is said and done, the blurred lines between friendship and blood bonds will draw them down a path that will change all three of them forever.

(Shimmy gets cred for writing a quarter of Lenna's chapter because Lenna was overworked and Caerwyn hates the dwarves so much it gets in the way of writing him.)

In this installment, Tesni and Caerwyn both find out that their tasks will not be as easy as they'd hoped.

Chapter Forty-Three: The Feelings I Fight Burn So Bright. I’m a Stranger in Town. (Spoon)

TESNI

Elgar’nan growled and put himself between me and the leader of the shemlen guards. I wanted to draw my knife, but Zevran had my main hand firmly in his. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t like being touched by sh-- strangers.”

Their leader removed his helmet and gave me a long stare. Tired eyes, short, dark-cropped hair, gaunt cheeks. “Byron, you alive down there?”

“Yes, ser.” A clink of armor behind me signaled the return of my would-be attacker to his feet.

“Good. Take the others and keep patrolling while I talk to our fine friends here.”

“B-But--”

His commander’s voice was weary. “Byron.”

As they marched away, Zevran released my hand and placed his casually at his sides. Shale proved less subtle: “Now that its friends are gone, should I crush its head for the icy elf?”

The guard’s eyes widened. “Maker’s breath! That thing talks?”

Shale shrugged. “It acts as though speaking is some difficult thing.”

The human blinked, pinched at the bridge of his nose, and then sighed. “Right. Don’t crush my head. Trust me, I have no intention of trying to bring you in, Warden.”

My heart skipped a beat. “How do you know--”

“You’ve got pretty red hair and a nice big tattoo on your face. Loghain’s men didn’t need to be very detailed, you know. But I have bigger problems than you traipsing about my district, so just keep your head down and stop making my men look like fools and I’ll look the other way.”

Zevran crossed his arms. “I doubt it will be as simple as that.”

“You’ve obviously never had to try to keep control in Denerim during a civil war. Still, if you’re that worried, you can do me a favor or two so I owe you.”

Zevran didn’t even give me a chance to speak. “Such as?”

“Take care of a few mercenary bands causing trouble, that sort of thing.”

“Agreed,” Zevran said.

I crossed my arms. “We are?”

“Where there are mercenaries, there are both places to hide and news to be had, tesora.”

“Fine. Where do you want us first, ser...?”

“Sergeant Kylon,” he replied. “Go clear some rabble out of the bar at the Pearl, that’s by the docks, and then come see me in the market.” He paused and glanced between us. “If you keep from killing them, I’ll pay you.”

“We don’t really need money,” I lied. In fact, I’d left most of it with Alistair for outfitting our army.

“I was referring to information.”

This time, Zevran and I agreed as one. How to find something in a city? Locate someone who has been there longer. With that in mind, I followed Zevran to the Pearl, which he said he remembered from his initial stay in Denerim.

Initial stay.... When he’d been assigned to kill me and my brothers. But this meant that he, at least, would remember the faces of our enemies, because he had seen them. I’d had bigger--well, smaller-- worries at the time. “A dour shem with dark hair” could describe half the humans clogging these streets, and my memory of Loghain was no clearer than that.

Those words described exactly none of the workers at the Pearl, however. They were all young, pretty, and scantily-clad.

Zevran caught my stare. “Whores, my Warden.”

“Had fun in Denerim last time, did you?” I asked.

“I’d say he did,” grinned a nearby woman. “Welcome back, Zev. Who can we get for you and your lady?”

“Attentive as ever, my dear Sanga.” He fixed her with a stunning smile. “But we are here on business, if such a thing can be believed. Something about mercenaries?”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” she sighed. “‘Bout time someone came along. They’re in the other room. Just follow the smell of unwashed miscreant.”

I led the four of us through the door and felt my nose wrinkle as the stench of shem washed over me. There were seven of them, and they were loud, and hairy, and very drunk. When I entered, one of them whistled and beckoned me over.

“Oi, you just get on duty, precious? Tattoo like that, you must have a high pain tolerance. I like that in a whore.”

His smile did very little for his facial features. “I’m not a whore.”

“Sure, sure. We know you lot are guild members. It’s just a word, milady.” The men around him laughed raucously.

“You should leave.”

His smile faded and was consumed by stubble. “Give me a reason why.”

I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. “The walking, talking statue behind me is holding a rock the size of your skull.”

The room fell silent as the shems fixed their eyes on Shale. For a creature with stone features, she somehow managed to seem very bloodthirsty, and without another word they filed past us one by one.

Sanga thanked us profusely and began ordering her staff to “go mop that swill off the floor, and for the love of Andraste, do something about the smell before we lose all our business!”

I was about to lead us out when a tall, dark-haired woman threw a terrified man at my feet. I had to vault him to keep from tripping over his chest. “Accuse me of cheating again, whoreson, and I’ll do more than bruise your ego!”

The man scrambled away, and I looked up at the woman, who was now smiling at me.

“Sorry about that. Some men have no head for cards.”

“I... see.” Creators above, I had expected it to take longer to hate the city.

“Do you play cards?” When I shook my head, she frowned. “Too bad. You look like you’d be fun in a game.”

“I doubt she would be interested in the games you play, Isabela.”

“Zevran?” She gave him a wide, toothy smile. “I am completely unsurprised to see you at the right hand of such a pretty thing.”

He laughed, and I shifted awkwardly. She said pretty like a man would.

The woman caught my discomfort and brushed one of my braids behind my ear. My knife was drawn and aimed at her neck before I had a chance to think about it, but she parried me expertly.

“Nice reflexes!”

I frowned and lowered my dagger. “The same to you.”

“Well,” she said, sheathing her blade. “If you ever want to learn how I do it, I’m sure you and I can work something out. Zev might even be able to help, right Zev?”

His hands were on my shoulders. “I fear this one is immune to your charms, Isabela.”

She shrugged. “You never know until you try. Nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise.” And then Zevran dragged me from the building, muttering quietly to me about my family’s tendency to stab people.

I sighed. “She startled me.”

“My Warden, if you draw on everything that startles you in this city, you will be in jail by dawn. Give me your knife.”

“What!”

He locked his gaze on mine. “Trust me, tesora. If anything happens you will have it back.”

“...Fine.”

Not five minutes later we were killing a band of mercenaries that attacked us while we were speaking to Sergeant Kylon, but I didn’t need my knife for that. I stood, and fired, and they dropped with satisfying rapidity. Soon it was only my companions and the sergeant left standing, who was staring at me with wide eyes.

“People voluntarily attack you? Are they insane, or just stupid?”

I slung my bow on my back. “Misinformed, mostly.”

“Right.” He gave me an odd look. “Look, there’s an inn down that way,” he pointed to his left, “where Loghain’s men are regularly kicked into the gutter. Best place for you to stay while you’re in town.”

“Thank you.”

“If you have time, come find me tomorrow. Chances are I’ll need help with something else.”

The chances of us having anything but time for the next few days were slim. I agreed, and the sergeant walked back the way he had come, shaking his head.

Zevran guided us to the inn in question, which wasn’t exactly clean, but it was better than camp, and the woman running it was likable enough. She didn’t even look twice when Shale walked in after us, and I realized that Zevran had been telling the truth about being able to hide in plain sight within Denerim.

“We’ve got three rooms free,” the innkeeper said when we asked. “One for each of you.”

“The golem doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t need a room,” I said.

“Yes, it does. I can’t have it standing out here all night. It’ll give the drunkards nightmares, it will!”

“Two rooms, then, and everyone will stay out of sight.”

Zevran smiled as we walked down the hall toward the bedchambers. “We get to share a bed? What luck!”

I shook my head. “Shale’s staying with me.”

“Does the icy elf’s room have a window? I have no desire to watch it sleep.”

I tossed a key at Zevran. “And it has no desire to be watched sleeping, believe me.”

“Another night alone, then,” he sighed.

“Just for sleeping.” I adjusted my pack and began to unlock my door. “Once you’re settled in, come keep me company.”

His smile returned. “As you like!”

But there was very little to do in an inn room, and soon I was bored and Zevran was pacing restlessly. I had no desire to go back out into the streets of Denerim, but he appeared just as unwilling to stay put.

“You know,” I said, looking over at him from where I was sprawled on the bed, “you don’t have to stay in here if you’re bored.” I thought about what there was to do for fun in Denerim and realized that I had absolutely no idea.

He shook his head. “Not bored, just... preoccupied.”

Which was a polite way of saying bored. I frowned and sat up completely. The ladies at the Pearl had all known him, so maybe.... “You can go to the Pearl if you want.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “The Pearl, tesora? You would not care?”

Creators’ sakes, he sounded like a shem. “Of course not, Zev. Why should I?”

“Ah. No reason, I suppose.” He moved for the door and let himself out without another word.

“Thank you,” Shale said from where she was standing near the window. “If the painted elf’s mating plumage got any brighter I would have been unable to resist the urge to crush it like a pigeon.”

I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with liking sex, Shale.” What was strange was the shemlen and their simultaneous obsession with and shame of it. I hadn’t expected the same from Zevran.

She chuckled at me. “It is as oblivious as the grumpy elf sometimes.”

“‘Oblivious’ would be me making the poor man ask to go to a brothel, Shale.”

“The brothel certainly didn’t help. It is not wrong there.”

But no matter how long I stared at her, she appeared to be done speaking. Eventually I gave up, sat at the desk, and began to write a letter to Alistair. Writing was, if nothing else, an excellent way to pass time.

Chapter Forty-Four: I Don’t Know What I’m Supposed to Do Way Down Here Without You (Superdrag)

CAERWYN

“Grey Warden, eh?” the durgen’len guard said. “You don’t look like much of one to me.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “When’ve you seen another one?”

He shrugged. “I suppose I haven’t.”

This was a waste of time. I rummaged through my pack and pulled out the treaty. “Here.” I handed it out to him.” Take that to your king or whatever durg-- dwarves have.”

The durgen’len didn’t take it from me. “And what’s that supposed to be?”

“It’s an ancient treaty the dwarves signed with the Grey Wardens,” Leliana explained. “It compels the dwarves to come to the Wardens’ aid during a Blight.”

“A Blight?” He snorted. “So you topsiders want our help fighting darkspawn now that they’re on the surface?”

“What?”

“Darkspawn live underground, Caerwyn,” Leliana said softly. “The dwarven empire has been losing ground to them for centuries. To them, a Blight is a moment to catch their breath.”

I was dumbstruck. Had Tesni known about this when she’d sent me?

When we entered Orzammar I was violently assaulted by heat, followed by orange. When I could breathe and see again, the first things my eyes landed on were all of the durgen’len. Sure, I’d met that merchant with the creepy kid, and the guard at the gate hadn’t been very big, but I hadn’t expected this.

“They’re so... short.”

Sten raised an eyebrow at me. “Interesting.”

Leliana giggled.

“What?”

“Well....”

I crossed my arms. “You think I’m short.”

“No,” she said, “but surely you will admit that elves--”

“We’re not short. Just because shemlen and whatever Sten is are way too big doesn’t mean elves’re short.”

“I am a perfectly sensible size,” Sten said, crossing his arms and staring down at me, which only proved my point.

Leliana laughed again, and I glowered at her. “You know I don’t think you’re short, Caerwyn. You’re as tall as I am!”

“Oh, that’s reassuring.” When she couldn’t hide her smile, I turned to walk away.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To find someone who it doesn’t hurt my neck to talk to.”

Sten stood and stared out over the orange but Leliana caught my sleeve.

“Come, let’s find ou--”

But just then a fight broke out right in front of us. Some of the durgen’len were shouting at each other about who deserved to be king. Half of them were shouting about the king’s son, and the other half about some advisor. They had huge axes and by the time it was over there was blood everywhere and one of them was lying dead in the dirt.

“So...” I said as I rubbed at my face in irritation, “they don’t have a king?”

“Clearly not,” Sten replied.

I looked at Leliana. “I thought the king’s kid’s the next king. That’s why Alistair’s a prince, right?”

“Politics are never simple, Caerwyn,” she said. “If their king did not want his son to rule, he might have had the power to choose another successor. It seems unclear if their King Endrin chose his advisor over his son before his death.”

Politics. Oh yes, Tesni’d picked the right one of us to deal with the durgen’len. This was definitely my strong area.

“I don’t understand,” I said as we went to the place where the ‘more important’ durgen’len lived. “Can’t they just pick one?”

Leliana shook her head. “They don’t seem to be able to agree.”

“Well, which one’ll do a better job?”

She gave me a strange look. “How can they know that?”

“Make them fight.”

“The last thing this city needs is another soldier ruling it. Have you learned nothing from the humans?” Sten said.

“There is more to what the dwarves want in a king than that.” Leliana agreed. “You must decide who we will back as the rightful heir to the throne.”

“Why do I have to help them pick?”

“Because they must be united under a leader to be able to help us,” said Leliana.

I clenched and unclenched my fists. What good were these pieces of paper if every time we tried to hold people to the agreements they demanded we do something for them first?

“Elvarel,”[1] I grumbled. “What do I have to do?”

What we had to do was talk. Another thing I was good at. We--mostly Leliana--talked to an ugly, dark-haired durgen’len with shifty eyes, and then another one who looked exactly like all the other ones we’d just walked through. They all wanted us to “prove our loyalty.”

I wasn’t there to be loyal. I was there to get soldiers. When I said that to the shifty dwarf, he told me Bhelen’d appreciate my honesty and honor my treaty. The other one told me if I wanted troops, I’d have to back some noble named Harrowmont, “King Endrin’s true choice.”

“King Endrin should’ve made a better choice,” I muttered, but none of the durgen’len heard me.

We’d spent three hours in the durgen’len city and we were already covered in dirt. It didn’t seem to matter whether we were inside or not. Chat’len’s coat was slowly turning that same ugly orange as everything else and even I wanted a bath. How’d the dwarves stand it? They weren’t durgen’len; they were alas’len.[2] I wouldn’t even bother bathing if I were them. Though by their smell, maybe they didn’t.

Who’d want to be king of Alasan[3] anyway?

Then Harrowmont’s lackey made an offer that actually sounded interesting: fight some alas’len in his name and he’d get enough power to give me my troops.

Fighting. Fighting I could do. So I took my knives and went to where the alas’len were all roaring and watching each other bleed. Interesting. Unnecessary and stupid to fight your own kind, and it annoyed me because I needed them to fight the darkspawn for me, but still interesting.

Once I got used to how short they were, it got too easy. Even the ones I fought in pairs. Leliana’d said these little people’d been fighting the darkspawn for centuries, so why weren’t they better at it? They were too slow. Maybe we didn’t actually want their help. If the elvhen’d been down here, we’d’ve killed all the darkspawn a long time ago.

We knew better than to live in a hole, though. And the last couple of fights were against famous warriors, they said, and actually made me pay attention to my footwork, so maybe not all of them were so bad. I’d been talking to the nobles and the merchants, anyway, so their warriors could be worth all of this stupid running around.

But then I met one of their warriors, back out in the streets, and I couldn’t help wondering what my sister’d been thinking. Or the Grey Wardens, even, when they’d made the stupid treaty. Their nobles wore so much cloth and metal and the merchants wore so much beard it was a wonder they were still standing.

And the warriors? They were just too drunk.

“Name’s Oghren,” an alas’len with even brighter hair than Tesni’s slurred at me. “I’m lookin’ for a Grey Warden. Seen one around here?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“That’s too bad. Thought a topsider would know where to find ‘em.” He swayed away, but his smell stayed with us. It’d just started to leave too when he came back.

“Wait a sodding nug-lovin’ minute.” He stared up at my face. “You’re an elf. Why would a pointy-eared thing like you be down here with a human an’...” his eyes fixed on Sten. “An’ that... if one of you weren’t a Warden?”

“You tell me.”

“Caerwyn,” Leliana warned, but the alas’len’d turned back to Sten.

“You! You look like the Warden type! Strong, an’ tall, an’... weird.”

Sten scowled. “The elf is the Grey Warden.”

The alas’len blinked. “What? What do I look like, some half-blind duster?”

“I know. It makes no sense,” Sten said.

“Hey.”

“Oh well. Takes all kinds, I guess.” He grinned up at me. “So, you headed for the Deep Roads any time soon?”

Leliana frowned. “Ohh, I hope not.”

But a few minutes later we’d learned that we were. Because none of the alas’len in the city could choose their king, we needed to go find the one that’d gotten lost underground and have her decide before they’d have someone who could honor their promise to the Wardens.

And the orange-haired alas’len and his smell seemed determined to follow us. “We’ve gotta put our minds together, Warden. You wanna find her, an’ I’m the only one who knows what she went down there looking for.”

“How?”

Oghren reached for a skin at his hip that smelled like it was full of wolf piss in mud. “I’m her husband.”

“Nehn.”[4]

[1] “longer”/“more effort” – Refers to things get more complicated, equivalent to “Nothing’s ever easy.”

[2] “dirt children” – Caerwyn’s new name for the dwarves (durgen’len means “stone children.”)

[3] “Dirt Place” – Caerwyn’s new name for Orzammar

[4] “joy” – Used sarcastically in true Caerwyn fashion as an equivalent to “Oh, joy” or “Lovely.”

Fighting. Fighting I could do.

Vir Lath Sa'vunin Chapters Forty-Three and Forty-Four

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