Sisters of Tevinter

The Denizens

  "Inquisition spies, captain," Anja said slowly. "They were getting too close."

  Dorian was stiff beside Jor, his clearwater eyes wide, trailing down the newcomer's silhouette and then back up. He mumbled something through the gag that sounded an awful lot like; "Maker's Breath."

    "Anja," the captain sighed. "You shouldn't have brought them here. Let's see what the damage is." He surveyed the room with his imperious emerald gaze. "A qunari. A Tevinter mage, an elf, two--" he stopped there, his eyes widening slightly. 

     Jor's mouth was suddenly very dry. She stared, unblinking, at the spectre of a young man that came to crouch before her. He studied her face, drawing a fortifying breath through his nose as he sat back on his haunches. "These idiots are not spies." 

    Kaisen stirred, smiling ruefully beneath her curtain of hair. "Max." She lifted her head. "God damn you're ugly."

    The companions were freed with much grumbling and cursing. Night had fallen over the Oasis. Maxwell had lit a fire and was roasting his kill on a spit, Anja and the dwarf sitting beside him. Kaisen leaned against Dane who, reunited with his mistress and free of confinement, lay content in the sand. "You grew out your hair," the Crow said casually. "I hate it." 

     Max lifted a hand to the loose binding of bone white hair behind his head, coiled in a kind of messy sphere. He smiled. "You're still short." 

      "You're still alive." 

      "I guess we're all disappointed today then." 

      Kaisen wrinkled her nose.

     Jor had said nothing since she'd been released. Now she was sitting at the very edge of the fire's shed light in the open air outside the cave, gently cleaning the torn skin at Solas' temple with a damp cloth. They sat facing one another, but Jor didn't meet the mage's eyes as she focused on her task, feeling heavy and shattered all at once. 

     Solas seemed to understand, sitting quietly as he let her tend to him. 

     "So let me get this straight," Bull was saying, sitting beside Eadrik on a shelf of rock within the cave. "You're the guys that blew up the that elitist bastard's wine cellar- shit, what was his name?"

      The elf gave an impish grin. "Lord Opraule. A known Venatori sympathizer. He got too bold, so we stole his booze. Among other things. The fire was Spook's work." He gestured to the mage with his golden stubble and hair. 

      Spook, as was apparently his name, smiled. "Not bad, if I do say so myself." 

      "God, that's bad ass," Bull laughed. "You guys are good. Not just anyone can jump me like that." 

      "We've had practice," Argus said cheerfully from where he perched above them in a niche of stone. 

       "Well it was Tails who got you," Eadrik said, smiling wryly as he gestured to the dwarf by the fire. 

        "Why Tails?" Kaisen asked, glancing at the grim dwarf. 

        Max grinned. "You don't want to know." 

        Dorian snapped his fingers from where he sat beside Kaisen. "I remember now. Maxwell Trevelyan. Weren't you the tragic young casualty in a raid on your family's merchant chain?" 

        Jor stiffened, staring past Solas at the stone wall. The elf gently took her wrist and lowered her hand from his face, patient. 

      Max grinned, leaning back against the stone of the cave, folding his arms behind his head. "Do I look like a casualty to you, Pavus?" 

       Dorian scoffed. "If I remember correctly, everyone perished in that attack." 

       "Not everyone." Max tapped a finger to the tip of his nose, eyes dancing with a condescending kind of amusement. "Jora! You haven't so much as said hello to your big brother." 

        Jormungandr's lip curled. "Don't call me that." 

        "Jora," Max repeated patiently. "I know you're mad. But I've been keeping tabs on you. Congratulations on becoming Inquisitor, by the way. I knew you had it in you."

        "Hm. Would've been nice if I didn't also have to carry the Trevelyan name for seven years." 

        "I've been busy here. I can do more if people believe I'm dead. In fact, Maxwell Trevelyan is dead. The Denizens and I are our own little unit of ghosts." 

        "The Denizens?" Kaisen laughed.

         "It's more of a joke than anything," Eadrik put in helpfully. "We never stay in one place too long, and we never reveal where we've come from. We've only been in the Oasis for... what, a month?" 

         Max nodded. "Give or take. We purged the blood mages from the area. Spook says there's magic around here somewhere, ancient stuff. The kind dad liked." The warrior smiled at Kaisen. 

       The Crow laughed. "That stupid bastard didn't know a card trick from an Andrastian miracle."

       Max frowned. "Your flippancy was never tamed I see." His hand absently fell to the sword at his side, brushing over the pearlescent hilt. Jor had realized with a nauseating jolt when she'd first seen it, it was her father's blade. He had loved that sword, carried it everywhere, using it alongside what battle spells he had known. 

      The shield belonged to the old chevalier that had barked orders at them in the Trevelyan courtyard and snuck them sherry and cakes from the kitchens. So they were dead. Max truly was the only survivor. He'd made a life for himself, friends, influence. He'd gone on to fight for money alongside his set of dubious morals. 

      Both her siblings had abandoned her without a word, and yet here they were again, all three of them together while the world was falling apart. It made her sick.

    "You mentioned the Venatori," Dorian said coolly. "And blood mages. Your Denizens purged them from this side of the Western Approach. Have they grown?" 

    "Of course," Max said with a scowl. "Who do you think's been holding the line out here? Not Andraste, that's for sure. The Inquisition has its hold in the east, but you move too slowly. The Approach is flooded with seedy characters, desperate spellbinders looking for an easy high on power and alliance. I heard about Corypheus. This Elder One is becoming a real pain in my ass." 

   "Gee, glad you deigned to join the fun," Jor muttered. Solas wordlessly passed her a cup of coffee from the kettle at the fire. 

    "Now, now, Jora. I know you're doing your best out there- the Hinterlands is practically clear. But maybe its time to move forward."