When Fate Summons (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

The Gambler

With her back straight and her head high, Thora walked through the palace, trying to decide where to go. Despite having told Dorothea that she was going to the Grey Warden compound, she had no intention of doing so. That was too well-known a location, and she didn't intend to be that easy to find. She was deep in thought as she came into the grand entry hall and came face to face with Septimus Dirnley and Sister Honoria.

"Lose something?" Dirnley taunted.

Thora lifted her eyebrows, but didn't answer him.

"We saw the Grand Cleric leaving with the King," Sister Honoria said coldly. "Once his mind is cleansed of your influence, you will not want to remain in Denerim, I suspect."

"There isn't now, nor has there ever been, anything wrong with Alistair's mind. A fact many people have overlooked—to their cost," Thora said evenly.

"He wasn't smart enough to avoid producing a brat with you," Dirnley said. Sister Honoria frowned at him, but he didn't see it. "Once the King has regained his senses, he'll see what a danger she is to the succession."

Thora took a deep breath. This man was never going to cease to be a danger to her family, he'd just made that plain. It was clear to her what had to happen now. "Did I just hear you threaten an 8-year-old child?" she asked, taking a deliberate step closer to him.

"Of course not!" Dirnley said officiously. "I'm merely expressing a concern." His eyes glinted at her. "If certain people get the wrong idea about the hazard she represents ..." He shrugged, as if he regretted the possibility but couldn't prevent it.

"Over my dead body."

"Be careful how you say that. It could be arranged."

"That threat has been made before," Thora said. "Are you making it now?" She looked him challengingly in the eye. "You couldn't lay a finger on me unless you snuck behind my back."

Dirnley's lips went white. "I would have no trouble beating you in a fair fight."

Thora said nothing, but allowed her face to vividly express her doubts.

"Right now, then," Dirnley said. "Let's step outside."

"Gladly." Thora could barely restrain a smile as she followed Dirnley toward the training grounds. The scene with Dorothea had her longing to hit something, and Dirnley fit the bill perfectly. She wished devoutly that Alistair had married a warrior instead of a lady—at least then she could have challenged the woman to a duel and had it be a fair fight. She thought if for some reason his council ever wanted him to marry another human, she'd make sure it was a warrior. Maybe then the woman would understand Alistair.

A small crowd had gathered behind Thora and Dirnley when they reached the training grounds. Jones, Thora's erstwhile guard, came up to her. "I have your dagger, Commander, should you wish it returned. Maric's sword is in the hands of the Chantry, but my blade is at your service." He bowed. "I would be honored to act as your second."

Thora smiled at him. "Thank you, Jones. The honor is mine." She looked over at Dirnley, who was studying a line of soldiers, trying to pick a second. "My blades were taken from me, and that is the way I will fight."

"Bare-handed?" Jones looked skeptical.

"I've trained in bare-handed combat against better swordsmen than he," Thora said. In truth, she wasn't quite as confident as she seemed, but she couldn't afford to let that show. If Dirnley was defeated by an unarmed dwarf woman, Hero of Ferelden or not, it sent a strong message.