fanfic: A Fish Out of Water

[bellaknoti]

An AU to Wings of the Storm Crow

Title: Off the Edge (Epilogue)
Rating: AO
Pairing:
Summary: The agony of loss is worn smooth as a river stone under the daily rhythms of living, under the weight of responsibility and sleeplessness that is the beginning of a new life. I don't have the luxury of wallowing, because there is a tiny person who needs me to smile and laugh and tickle and play, and how can I not live for that toothless grin and the excited little wiggle when she first sees my face?


scarylady is very awesome, and fixes all the injustices and horrible liberties I take with the language without even meaning to.







I thought for a long time about leaving the Warden compound, moving out on my own, but Anders reminded me of the barren seaside tree, and in the end I stayed, but I’ve felt so grey.

The only thing that shines, that beams with colour and life is my little Cassie. She never leaves my side, except in the arms of Anders or Benina, and on one occasion, Marco; he caught me curled up on a bench asleep, face pressed to the stucco, baby cuddled tightly against my breast. I’d just... run out of steam, crossing the courtyard, and couldn’t make it to my bed. He was so sweet to me, though, and offered to walk around with her for an hour or two so I could get some rest. His youngest is four now, and I believe he and his wife are done having children, if the gossip is any indication. He got a little misty-eyed, and I think I can understand the need for baby-smooshes. I’ll miss it when it’s gone, I can feel it in my arms.

It’s cold enough now to need a fire at night, and I sit by the hearth in my room with Cassie asleep in the cradle beside me. She’ll be crawling and cruising by spring, and probably walking by the end of summer, so I’ve set to making her a few pinafores and pantaloons, a few tunics and overalls.

Ponka, drowsing by the fire up to this point, lifts his head suddenly, looking toward the window. On his feet in an instant, he puts himself between me and whatever it is. I’ve got my hand behind me, wrapped around the hilt of the dagger I keep at my lower back, ready to put myself in front of my daughter.

“Oh... so it is that way between us now, is it?” a heart-stoppingly familiar burr emerges from the darkness in the corner, just a moment before the speaker himself.

My skin feels like it’s on fire, too hot, too small, a physical reaction I cannot help but have as my mouth is suddenly dry as a desert, stopping my tongue. There’s no blur at the edges of my perceptions; this is no dream. He stands on the edge of the firelight that flickers in the amber eyes of this impossible man who was once mine.

“You-- N-No,” I say, standing up. I don’t let go of my dagger, but it comes to rest at my side, pointing toward the floor. I don’t know what to do. “I was in the square. I saw.”

I carried her body

“I know. You have no idea how difficult that was to arrange.”

I never meant to leave you

“What did you do?”

“Are you truly sure you wish to know that, cara?” I’m tired of illusions and secrets, and I lift my chin.

Probably not, but still... I need to.

He lays a finger to his lips, glancing about, then very deliberately taps two fingers over his heart, holding my gaze. It takes me a moment, but then I remember it was his son who--

Oh gods--

Oh, his eyes, oh, look at that cold pragmatist. His own son.

A son got by lies and treachery, who tried to kill him first, and by extension me. A little insurance to bring him back to me if he so chose? Remember what Anders did to himself that night because of that son?

He still hasn’t moved, and neither have I. Something wild and wounded begins to howl within me, and I try to keep my breathing even. This is madness.

“Tell me something only you would know,” I say, and he looks at me for a long moment.

“Come now, cara,” he says softly, shaking his head. “I read your message to me. Perhaps you did not expect that I would see it, but that only makes it the more true, yes?”

He’s caught me, and there’s really nothing I can say to that. He’s right. “And it took you three months to do anything about it?”

I don’t need to ask him why he didn’t come to me like a normal person. Can’t exactly just stroll up and knock on someone’s door in broad daylight if you’re supposed to be dead. No, of course, it would be under cover of darkness.

“Perhaps you will notice that it did not take me a year,” he says archly, making me feel like shit, then shrugs, spreading his hands, and I notice then that he is wearing the ring I chose for him, even now, after all this time. “It took time for me to line things up, so to speak. I wished for there to be some... assurance of safety.”

My heart leaps into my throat, threatening to choke me. “What?” I squeak, then swallow hard. “What are you talking about?”

He pauses, then shakes his head; leaning against the wall, he folds his arms over his chest and looks down. “I find I care no more for lies. Too many things have become clear to me, far too late, and at great cost. I was angry for a very long while, after hearing you in the courtyard, cara. But then it occurred to me, during those long months that you were in Ferelden, that these things you had laid bare in front of him... you had asked of me first. You said to me once, when we stood on the beach, that you wished we could simply live on that island, abandon everything, never be heard from again, and I said to you, no. No, we must go to Antiva. This simple thing, this first thing you asked of me, it has preyed upon me all this time. I watch you walking around my city, heavy with a child that is not mine, and I remember, before you did this, you said to me you wished for it to be mine, and I said to you, no. No, I cannot give you this. I said these things; I brought us here.” His voice is harsh with self-recrimination and darkness within.

I stare at him in shocked silence, too stunned to move, to react coherently. These things I have entirely blamed myself for.

His jaw flexes, but he is otherwise so still, so much the Crow right now, so tightly controlled. He can’t hide it in his voice, though... not from me. “I wished to be angry with you for your desires, but truly, I have been angry with myself for being unable to meet them. Even as you left for Ferelden, I was caught in the Game, and I saw only what was a useful situation. But I was reminded of my mortality, my vulnerability, when I collapsed several times one day at the end of Haring. I knew it was not me; I could feel you, so far away, and hanging on the edge of life. I could not reach you, could not help, and I began to understand that I had been careless after all, to trust our lives to hands other than our own. Rumours of my infirmity began, and that was all it took to set the ambitious to circling like wolves.”

“I was tortured--” I begin, and he nods, not flinching.

“Sì, I am aware. Many told tales of seeing the Hero and the knight Alistair. All rumours, of course, but so very many of them, particularly from Redcliffe. Completely discounted until a captain of a certain Arl’s guard was hanged in the market by Anora for torture, as a warning to others that she considers such an act to be treason. Ah, but the servants of the castles whisper amongst themselves, and the story goes that it was punishment for mistakenly torturing the wife of the Warden Commander of Antiva, oh, but wasn’t she the one who married Alistair in Redcliffe? They say her name was Lily, why she certainly resembled the Hero, and they say she was tattooed like a Crow.”

All my hair is standing on end. Ripples and ripples; did I really think I could walk around Ferelden wearing my face and not be recognised?

“The jaws of the trap are closing around us even now. I saw what events were being set in motion, but there has been only so much I can control,” he says, getting my attention again.

“Who? Why do they care? What does it matter who I am?”

Zevran shakes his head. “Ah... The guild, and others, whomever can get hold of you first, I imagine, now that all the pieces have been put together by a few who are powerful enough to make things happen. You’re a loose end at best, a curiosity and a pawn, possibly a valuable slave or an experiment, at worst. Many things have been suggested.”

“Have been,” I echo hoarsely.

“Yes, cara. The display was to ward off some of the nastier possibilities, particularly those that concerned speculation over what was between you and me. When I say the trap is closing, what I mean is, we have...” He leans toward the window, looking through the slats at the sky. “Oh... perhaps an hour, before it will be too late to flee.”

Those eyes, oh gods, those eyes.

My heart is thundering in my ears, terror constricting my throat, making it hard for me to think, but I shake my head. “Where would we go?”

“I have a way, and a place, but I do not dare speak of it, not here.”

“But you said there was no way--”

He shakes his head. “The Hero is dead, and the head of the guild has retired. Who is there to chase if there is no-one here, hm? Rumours and myth. Nothing but legend. We could fade away into it, tonight, but we do not have much time.”

Still I stand there, shocked, rooted to the spot. “What if I don’t go with you?” I ask, the words pulled from my mouth. Do I trust him?

Was there ever truly a time when you didn’t?

No. Loss of faith, yes. Loss of trust... no.

For a moment, something very vulnerable and very hurt flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone almost as soon as it comes, replaced by the mask of the Crow. “I shall stay here until they arrive, and then I will do what I can to protect us all. However... that is not my preferred method, as it entails a very low probability of our survival, and a very high probability of your babe being taken by the guild for the same purposes to which I was put... except she is too small to remember that there is another way of life.” The look he levels at me is cool, and there’s a hardness about it that tells me we’re in some serious gods-damned trouble right now. He’s not lying.

He would never lie to me.

That was before. He’s lied to me many times, now.

But I love him.

I can’t live my life based on who’s the man I love... but I would do anything to keep Cassie from the Crows.

Do I trust him?

Completely.

I’m amongst the Wardens. I’m safe here.

Safe like you were when they showed up and stole Zev from your bed without even waking you?

Shit.

“I-- All right,” I finally say, startling him. I’m not sure if it was my hesitation, my reluctance, or my sudden capitulation. “How much can I pack?” I ask, already pulling my armour padding from a chest, shaking it out and struggling into it. My mind races over all the things that absolutely have to be packed, and all the things that should be left.

“Only what we can carry. Do not worry over food, a tent, or other such things; I have already seen to it.”

I pause, looking at him. “So sure I’d go with you?”

He presses his lips together, the cool look returning. “No. But I had hoped.” Another frozen moment, and then I turn away.

Gods, why does everything have to hurt so much, be so difficult? All I wanted was simple.

Easy as breathing

Yes, exactly. And now it’s all just danger and heartache again.

“Ponka, go get Anders, and quickly,” I tell my hound, opening the door, and he darts off.

As fast as I can, and with Zevran’s help, I stuff myself into my armour, finding that it won’t fasten over my breasts properly, but there’s no time for messing about. I pull out a couple of packs, begin filling them with everything important, everything I absolutely cannot leave behind.

The biggest problem proves to be Cassie. Ooh, and did I tempt the Fates when I thought I’d never want to travel with a child still in nappies? Too late now. She has a full pack all her own, even with me being conservative. Gods, so much has to stay.

I leave behind all the fancy dresses and Ferelden clothing, my altar, my books, everything. I only take such things as would be sensible, and those things that shouldn’t fall into others’ hands, such as my journals, the picture of me that Leliana drew, things from Earth, and all the jewellery and gems from the Blight.

“Lily, what in the Maker’s name-- You!” Anders appears in my doorway, just as startled by Zevran’s presence as I was, at first. After a moment, he has the sense to come in and shut the door behind him. “What are you doing? Why are you wearing armour?” he asks, full of wary unease. I can’t stop packing long enough to answer him; I’m running out of time.

“They’re coming for me tonight. Ripples of things I did in Ferelden, too many problems. It’s not safe here anymore, not for me, not for Cassie. They’ve connected everything and they know who I am. I don’t have a choice, I have to go, tonight, right now. It’ll never stop, you know that, and I can’t let her be stolen or turned into a pawn.”

I cinch down one of the ties on the front of the bag that holds a rolled blanket.

“You have to?” Anders echoes pointedly, and I wince.

“Sometimes, yes. Sometimes it’s about what has to be done,” I tell him flatly. “I wish that weren’t the case, but you know it’s true.”

“And so you’re leaving, on his say-so, just like that? In the middle of the night, no warning?” he asks, and I can feel myself wavering, because it makes so little sense, to just pick up and run, but at the same time, I don’t think Zevran would ask this of me if it weren’t the gods’ honest truth.

“Yes, unfortunately, just like that,” I say, nodding, finishing tying the last strap, then finally look up at Anders. He is very worried, very mistrustful of the situation. “I can’t say I don’t feel some hesitation, myself, but if I don’t leave, what then? To just die here over a moment of dithering that cost us our chance at freedom? I don’t think so. I have to protect my daughter.” I bite my lip, then go over to him, giving him a tight hug. “Thank you, for everything. Please keep my things in a trunk. If I can, I’ll send for them; if not, I’ll send word.” I hope. Anders hugs me back, and I can feel the tension in him, the misgivings.

Wrapping Cassie up tightly in a bundle, I strap her to my chest, and Zevran takes up the cradle, attaching it to one of the packs so that it won’t swing about too much, then looks between me and Anders. “Time is short,” he says, and I nod, shouldering my own pack.

He heads for the door, and Anders moves aside to let him pass, still looking at me. Ponka follows, and I look after them as they go down the hall a few paces.

“You’re sure about this?” Anders asks, as I impulsively grab a hairstick off the bedside table and tuck it in my pocket, last-minute.

“No, but... it’s the only thing that makes sense.” I flash him a tense smile. “I’ll see you again.” I hope.

“Remember you have a forest here,” he murmurs as I turn away, and I close my eyes for just a second, letting out a breath.

“I’ll never forget, Anders... You’re the best friend I’ve ever known, the brother I never had. I’m so glad I met you... I owe you my life. Take care of yourself... and if you see Lels again before I do, kiss her once, for me.” Oh, his eyes. I’ll never forget the fear, the worry, the love in them.

I follow Zevran, putting my faith in him again as he leads me out of the Warden compound through the cellar. Anders does us the favour of distracting the midnight kitchen maid, giving me a doubtful eye as I slip down the ladder behind Zevran, and I blow him a kiss. I’ll miss him terribly, and I hope he fares well, because... I doubt I’ll be back.

There’s a door in the very back, a short thing that looks like it’d just be a cabinet, but it leads to a cobwebbed tunnel. Distantly, I hear Anders’ voice, indignant, then angry, then chanting, and the thunderclap of his lightning. My heart clenches and I turn back, looking over my shoulder. Oh gods, Anders... Darting around me, Zevran shuts the door almost silently, then grabs my hand, dashing down the corridor, forcing me to leave him behind, to not make his fighting for me meaningless. I can’t help but follow, Ponka right behind me, holding Cassie tightly to my breast as she drowses, lulled by the rocking of my body and the broken sleep she’s had.

I can’t look at Zevran the same way anymore. He’s not some amazing, infallible creature. I can’t afford to be awe-struck and heart aflutter.

Never mind the fact that I am feeling that way, as I watch his back and the spill of white-blond hair that hangs down it.

The tunnel lets us out in a warehouse down by the docks, just judging by the smell, but the presence of Isabella is what really throws me. I stand there, blinking in shock.

“Don’t look so surprised, kitten,” she says, and winks at me. “Shall we?” she asks next, and I realise there’s an open trap door in the middle of the room, leading to the dark waters below. Zev goes first, giving me a hand down, then catching Ponka, and holding the skiff level while Isabella piles a bunch of empty crates on; Zev motions for me to lay down in the bottom of the boat, and does the same, next to me. Isabella throws a drop cloth over us and piles the crates around, then takes the oars.

The boat smells like seaweed and sand, and the dirty water on the bottom of it seeps between the joints in my armour. I don’t dare shift, for fear of moving the boat unnaturally for one that is meant to be only captained by one person. Cassie wiggles against me, snoring softly in her sleep, and I feel the heat of Zev’s breath coast across my forehead.

He’s close... so close. Oh, oh gods, the scent of ocean and clove and leather, the man that brought me here, the slap of the water and the rocking of a boat - the first things to reach my perceptions upon arrival in this strange world that has become my home, the combination inescapable, permeating my life, tugging on me again in a way I cannot deny, cannot defy. Circles and circles, we begin and end and begin again, the spiral of life eternal.

Aphrodite protect me, Hera shield me, Athena guide my sight, oh gods, please.

This is the longest boat ride of my life, despite the fact that it doesn’t take an hour. Neither of us speak, neither of us moves, but oh, I’m so aware of him, of every inch of us that almost touches, of the heat of his breath, the strand of his hair that fell across my cheek when it was blown by the breeze of the settling canvas.

The boat slows, and I feel a bump of docking; Zevran rises when Isabella moves the crates, pulling the canvas away, and holds his hand out to me to help me up. There is something extremely significant and heart-wrenching in the act of taking it. He sees it; we both know it.

Isabella’s ship is underway within minutes, and we’re in a cabin below decks. My hands are shaking as I sit on the bed, not sure what to do with myself now. Ponka flops down across the door with a heavy whuff as soon as Zevran shuts it.

This is madness.

Somehow, it never seems like I have any true options, there’s only what must be done. I couldn’t have made any other choice. The Crows don’t just knock on the door and say, “Hello, can I be your assassin today?”

There is a very long moment where Zevran and I just stare at each other, and finally, I’m the one to break the silence. “That was too easy,” I say, still keyed up from the trip here, from waiting for disaster to follow us and fall on our heads.

He nods. “As I said, I wished for there to be some assurance of safety. It is lovely when a plan comes together, yes?”

A long moment passes while I stare at him, feeling numb, knowing this is a veneer over a roiling mass. “Where are we going?”

He looks up at the map on the wall, all the familiar countries and terrain, and my heart clenches. Where could we possibly go? The Anderfels? Crossing the room, he takes a deep breath.

“I was thinking... Somewhere... around here,” he says, and his finger lands on the wall, far from the eastern edge of the frame, into the beyond and the uncharted territories on the other side of the ocean. He looks at me over his shoulder, holding my eyes for a long moment. “We have wasted so much time, cara. Please... let us be done with it. I would beg for your forgiveness, if I knew how.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. We’ve hurt each other, very badly, and more than once.” Struggling to my feet, I unwind Cassie, who is beginning to fuss, and start removing my armour. She needs to eat, and my breasts are sore from fullness. As I pull off my gambeson, it occurs to me that I’ll need to bare my breasts in front of him.

Ah, well.

Quickly now, both Cassie and I feeling the urgency, I get us arranged on the bed, heedless in my need to be done with the discomfort of milk-bearing for the moment. Zevran has the strangest expression on his face when I look up, and I don’t quite know what to do, finding myself blushing.

I died for him. He died for me.

What does that make us?

At least it’s a better story than Romeo and Juliet.

I sigh. There is great hypocrisy in punishing him for crimes I’ve committed myself. I don’t think I could ever hate him, not as long as I live, and now it’s just him and me against the world again. If I’m being honest with myself, it always has been, really.

“All right; there really is no point in denying what we both know is true. The bond never broke, for a reason, and that reason is both of us can’t let go.” The darkness swirling in his eyes echoes mine, and I swallow hard as he shifts as though he would come closer, then changes his mind. “I couldn’t let go,” I admit softly, and this changes something, smooths out a few of the stress lines around his eyes.

How can I read him so well? We must both be so tired by now. Things won’t be easy, and we’ve got a lot of discussion ahead of us, because we can’t go on like we have, and we’re broken enough that I’m very worried about where we’re going from here. So, no more lies and hiding, especially not if we’re going to be crossing the sea for months.

I’m aware that we’ve just been frozen, staring at each other for a long, painful moment. At last, it is me who breaks eye contact, looking down at Cassie as her latch begins to slip and I have to adjust her before she gives me a hickey.

“Is there nothing I can do?” he asks his voice just as quiet as mine, and I look up again. He’s standing there looking so lost, and there are echoes and echoes of the moment we actually met, both of us so much our own islands, and I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t. We need each other. We always have, and denying it has cost us a great deal.

I nod, gesturing to the open space on the bed beside me. “Sit with me, and I’ll tell you what happened in Ferelden. And then... we can sleep, I hope,” I say, weary beyond measure. “The rest can wait for tomorrow.”

The relief, the hope in his eyes breaks my heart, because I know the fact I can see it means it’s strong enough that his mask can’t hide it.

Gods protect us.

He sinks onto the bed next to me slowly, as though I might change my mind at any moment and suddenly kick him to the floor. When I make no moves, his eyes drop to the tiny bundle in my arms. I realise with a start that his hands are shaking as he tentatively reaches out to stroke a fingertip over the soft spot in the centre of Cassie’s head, and the strangest, most fragile smile trembles around the corners of his mouth.

“Ah, cara, she is as beautiful as you,” he whispers, and when he looks at me again, I feel my heart crack. There won’t be any resisting him, not in the long run.

Oh, my dangerous man. We’ve got a lot of making up to do, but there will be plenty of time for it, and more besides. Do I dare think of it, now? Building a life with him? Can that be? Can we just be?

Oh gods, please.

Raising my eyes to the map on the wall, I look at it, and the long expanse of sea, and then at him, and the promise of sunlight in his eyes.

For us, beyond the reach of the Crows, anything is possible.













thanks for reading. :)
~b