Wolfsong - Dragon Age: Origins

Prologue

(a/n :: all characters belong to their respective owners. Kallora Mahariel is based upon the Warden in Bioware's Dragon Age: Origins)

I'm a whore, she thought to herself. And a damn good one. There she stood, arm in arm with one of the most attractive assassins in all of Antiva. And it didn't cost her a single penny; but it certainly had cost him.

He was one of the Antivan Crows. The largest crime organisation for miles and miles and miles. Kallora had thought she was far out of her depth, back when she was forced into becoming a "woman of the night". But it had it's perks.

"Wine?" She heard him say. She nodded her head politely, looking around. Men everywhere. Many of them killers - trained killers - but many of the others... targets, with a large amount of money weighted on their heads.

The red liquid splashed about in the glass as it poured. As he slid it to her, she smiled at him, winking. It tasted... odd. The wine at the whore house was different, sweeter. This was bitter. Not only bitter, but it had a certain tang to it - one she simply could not place her finger on.

Hours passed slowly into the void, men came and men went, there was a ruckus about half past twelve when somebody got stabbed. But two things never changed - the man wining her, and the man behind her. He'd sat patiently behind her for some time, repeatedly ordering Antivan wine, wearing the mark that branded him an Antivan Crow. He was probably new to the job. Or exceptionally good at what he did. Kallora hadn't seen him in the whore house before, but he wasn't a youngling like the others. No... there was an air about him that screamed 'merciless'. She couldn't seem bothered, though. Not while she was being paid hourly for her services.

"I'll be back," he whispered, standing upright and manoeuvring out of sight. From behind her, she could hear laughter. The laughter of the man who had been sat behind her all night.

"What?" She demanded.

A sly giggle fell from his parted lips. "Well, my dear, he has just gone and left you, with no payment, no?"

"I... you're wrong!"

"No, I am not. If you sat here and waited for several moments or several hours, he shall not return. If you do not believe me, ask any man who may have seen him leave." He trussed his long blonde hair out of his eyes to look at her properly. "I am Zevran. I work with that man, and I know him well."

"So... I'm not getting paid?"

"Unfortunately, no. However, you can make some coin tonight, if you are willing. Come with me, I know your work, and I am willing to pay handsomley for services rendered..."

Zevran stood, offering to take her with his hand. She accepted, standing in front of him. Zevran was taller than her, she thought, but not as tall as the bastard who ran out on her.

The night air was growing cool. The smell of leather, however, had not subsided.

"Where are we going?"

"Where is it you wish to be taken, hmm? Back to your brothel or to mine. You may feel free to leave or stay - I do not mind."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

A small smile crept upon his lips. "Did I not save you from returning to your sisters with no money?"

"I cannot trust you, like that." She tugged at his sleeve. "Come," she whispered. "There is an inn near here, I assure you. Pay for the night, and pay me fifty silver, half of what I usually ask. We are even."

Kallora woke, the elven assassin snoring beside her. What a night. She looked at him, recognising his facial tattoos. Placing a finger to her own, she knew her life was not simply a chain of be fucked, or die starving on the streets. She was Dalish. She had to return. She simply had to.