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Chapter Text

The Viddathlok, the temple of healing, had an open south facade with a wide balcony and sculpted archways. There, patients and therapists enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the view of the sea. Herbal scents from the garden below were rising to them, adding to a calming scenery.

Ashkaari needed it. She inhaled the flowers' fragrance and breathed out slowly to calm her nerves. What she was going to do wasn’t her area of expertise, but it was the role given to her by the Ariqun and one that she was prepared for. As such, she would do her best, as she always did. Asit tal-eb.

She walked in the room where Hissrad was patiently waiting. He stood up at her arrival, and she took the time to observe him. He had one of the most massive pair of horns she had ever seen. It was quite unusual for horns to grow in such an angular manner, and it was distracting. She did her best to focus on the more important signs she had been taught to look for in a person seeking counseling. Scars proved the amount of battles he had survived, but it was in the curves of his eyebrows and lips that she learned the most. He looked resigned, as if he already knew what she was going to tell him. That more than anything proved to her that she had made the right choice by stepping in. Even if she failed, at least she’d have tried more than the Tamassrans would have offered.

“Hissrad, I’m Ashkaari. I’ve been given charge of your counseling.”

The Ben-Hassrath did a double take, although he had probably noticed everything that mattered at first glance, such as the blue sash marked with her rank. “Is it that bad that they asked a scholar to take care of me? Or am I a particularly interesting specimen?”

“Neither. Your previous treatments didn’t give the expected results, but it doesn’t mean that your situation is problematic or singular. When I was informed of your case, I simply proposed an unusual method and was given permission to proceed with it.” She waved towards the bed in an invitation for him to sit while she went for a chair.

“So, I’m a test.”

“Hardly. What I’m proposing relies on you. I’d say it’s more of a… specific treatment, tailored to your needs, by yourself.”

Hissrad relaxed somewhat, moving from his ramrod straight back to a slight slouch with an arm resting on his knee, hand dangling. That was a good sign. “Alright, now I’m curious,” he admitted, tilting his head very slightly, not enough that his horns put him off-balanced (and that was something she needed to remember: with such horns and heavy stress, his neck would certainly be painful).

“The usual sex therapy failed twice. In the first case, it provoked an aggravation of your psychological condition and in the second the relief was very short-lived. Would you agree with this assessment?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve admitted that the soul sickness worsened in increments each time you were hit by an unexpected attack in Seheron, that you were able to keep it at bay as long as you could proceed with your work. Would you say that this is related to your control of the situation? The less you were in control, the worse it was?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. There weren’t many times I was in complete control but when things went my way it was easier to deal with.”

Ashkaari nodded slowly. She tucked a strand of white wavy hair behind her ear and explained her theory: “It is my belief that your reaction to the sex therapy relies on the fact that this treatment takes away control of the situation from you. You’re unable to relax, probably because you’re accustomed to relying only on yourself.”

Hissrad leaned forward with both arms on his knees, frowning slightly. “It’s not from lack of trying. I know I’m safe here...”

“... but you’re unable to act on it because of asala-taar . I understand. That’s why we need to find another way to help you. I’m offering you the opposite situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“ You will be in charge.”

“Are you saying we’ll have sex and I’m the one deciding how?” He asked, baffled.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she confirmed without batting an eyelid. This might have scared her a little beforehand but now that this needed to be done, she won’t falter. “This has the dual benefit of reasserting your values. You admitted fear of the violent madness inherent to Tal-Vashoth. If I put myself in your care, you’re responsible of my wellbeing which requires an acute awareness of yourself and our boundaries.”

He stared at her, a little wide-eyed and speechless.

She adjusted her hair around her slender horns, suddenly doubting herself and her analysis. “Like I said, this relies on you. If you’re unwilling to proceed for whichever reason, we’ll follow with the usual…”

“No. I’m willing.”

“In that case... I surrender myself to your care.” She bowed her head slightly, her hands firmly laid on her thighs but steady. She might be tense because of the novelty but she was in peace with her decision.

Hissrad breathed out without looking away from her. “What will be your watchword, Ashkaari?”

She tilted her head in thought. She never needed one: she never had been in this position before, but she knew all the rules and customs. Knowledge was her first duty to the Qun. “Embrium,” she decided.

“Interesting choice,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

She stood up and walked to him, laying her fingers in his palm in a light touch that contrasted with the heavy hand he put on her waist, pulling her closer until his chin rested against her stomach.

“How does an Ashkaari end up in this situation?” He mused.

“My duty is to provide ideas of improvements when I can and to put them in place when necessary.”

“And they had nothing better for you to improve?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I believe you underestimate your worth, Hissrad. From what I was told, you’re one of the most successful Ben-Hassrath agents. You must be if they kept you on Seheron for almost ten years. It’s all to your credit that you endured for so long.”

His hand closed around her fingers. “Are they trying to put me back on my feet to send me back?”

“To Seheron? Nehraa Koslun, no! Your service there has ended, Hissrad.” He sagged against her. She caressed his cheek with her free hand. “Did that worry you? Do not let this idea trouble you. You’ve done much and you still can do much for the Qun, do not doubt it, but not in Seheron.”

He lied down, pulling her in his arms as he did, and she leaned on his shoulders to avoid a nosedive that would get him smothered by her breasts (he didn’t seem bothered by the prospect).

“That’s the best thing I heard in a while.”

“You should have ask if it was troubling you so.”

“No matter how bad it was, I wasn’t looking forward to reeducation.”

She wished she could have said it wouldn’t have happened but some of the therapists were excessive in their judgements and the Ariqun was known for having little tolerance for those who questioned the duties assigned to them.

Hissrad kept her snuggled in his arms and seemed quite content to look at the ceiling, waiting… something…

“Well? Aren’t you going to do… something?” She asked, puzzled.

“What something?”

“I do not know, you’re the one in charge here, don’t you remember?”

“I do remember. Do you?”

Mouth agape, she stared without understanding. His voice was indulgent, as if he was waiting for her, which was ridiculous because she was the one waiting for him to… to…

“Oh,” she realized, “we’re playing this game.”

“Are we?”

“You’re certainly playing me,” she mumbled before relenting and resting her cheek on his shoulder, dutifully waiting for him to do things when and how he wanted to, since he was the one in charge.

Vibrations spread through her when he chuckled, it was a full-body laugh that shook her slightly. “Isn’t that the spirit? Don’t pout, Ashkaari, I’m just waiting for you to be in the right mood.”

“I am not pouting and I am ready.”

“No, you’re not. You look like an apprentice ー a cute one, don’t get me wrong, you’ve a pretty mouth, those luscious lips of yours are tempting ー prepared for his first battlefield. That’s not really the spirit of the thing.”

“Fine,” she grumbled because maybe, just maybe, he was right. She forcefully stopped herself from saying anything else and waited, closing her eyes and enjoying the rhythmic slide of his wide hands down her back.

“We’ll keep things light but is there any limits I should know about?” He asked in a deep low voice. “Anything else than no visible or permanent marks?”

She didn’t bother wondering how he knew about those limits: observing and understanding people was his speciality and it was probably obvious that she was self-conscious enough about this situation that she didn’t want it advertised. “Any breath disruption might get me to panic and I’m not comfortable with any object insertion or more than slight pain, not for now.”

“You got it.” He made them roll, careful to keep most of his weight off her. His callous hands went to her wrists and held them together above her head against the pillows. “Keep them here.”

“As you wish,” she agreed, watching through half-closed eyes.

He stared back and tilted his head in thought. “That wouldn’t work on Tamassrans.”

“You think?”

“They’re too used to being obeyed.”

Ashkaari hummed in thought. “True.” It wouldn’t be easy to develop this method. When she had first suggested it, the judgmental stares she had received had told her clearly that no-one would volunteer for such a task and that she would have to do it herself. Maybe if she educated the younger tamassrans herself...

“Hey,” Hissrad whispered in her ear. “Stay focused on me.” His hands caressed her bare arms and went down to her shoulders.

“My apologies. I am used to multitasking.”

“That brain of yours is always working, uh? Now, that’s an interesting challenge, getting you to stop thinking…” He undid the knot keeping her toga in place, the sash having been removed while she was distracted.

She smiled slowly. “Good luck with that. If you succeed, it would be a first.” Her constant review of her surroundings had been the reason she had become Ashkaari after all. Solving problems was the thing she did best, all the time, everywhere, in any occasions.

Hissrad pushed the fabric away, revealing her breasts, and smirked. “Challenge accepted.”

He failed for a very long time. She was too curious about the way he handled the situation to stop analysing his every move. He was truly one of the best Ben-Hassrath agents: it was notable in the way he was replicating the Tamassrans’ training while adjusting it to their specific situation and to her every reaction, adapting to her on the fly. He was really good.

Curiosity got the best of her. She asked: “Did you ever do something of the sort before?”

He stopped what he was doing and stared for a long time before humming. “My bad. I should have thought about this earlier.” He reached for her sash and wrapped it around her eyes, blinding her.

Ashkaari huffed.

He laughed. “Are you pouting?”

“I am not!”

He laughed harder.

She huffed again. “You’re just complicating my work, I need to assess the success of–”

Lips covered hers briefly before brushing down her chin. “It won’t work if you’re overthinking everything. All you need is the conclusion. I’ll even answer your questions at the end if you’re good.”

She hesitated. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Very well then,” she conceded.

“Good. No more talking if it isn’t immediately relevant to sex. It would be a shame if I had to gag you, right?”

She sighed but nodded.

After that… well… it was much harder for Ashkaari to think about anything else than his touch when she couldn’t anticipate it. Talented at reading people as he was, he quickly noticed that as long as he was touching her, moving against her, switching between his hands and his mouth, she was putty in his hands.

By the time they were spent and he removed the blindfold, she had completely lost all notion of time. She wasn’t really eager to speak either, her throat was dry.

“Challenge successful?”

She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his sweaty shoulder.

“Good,” he said smugly.

“What about the therapy?” She asked in a low voice. Yes, it had been great, awesome even, but this was purely professional, she wasn’t forgetting that.

“Well, I haven’t felt so good in ages, that’s for sure.”

She hummed. “Immediate effects exceed expectations. Long-time effects need to be evaluated. Repeated treatments probably necessary,” she summed up.

“Repeated treatments would be beneficial,” Hissrad agreed eagerly.

She patted his pectoral and nuzzled closer to his neck. “For optimal repetitions, I need answers to my questions.”

“Then, by all means, ask away.”

If they lingered in bed longer than they should have, taking their time for a debriefing while still nestled against each other, no-one else will ever hear of it.

*

Five days later, Ashkaari pushed the door of Hissrad’s room to find him sitting on the bed with his head between his hands. She waited for him to notice her presence but he didn’t move, despite the noise of the door closing behind her.

“I thought I was done with it. That was pretty stupid, uh?”

“Stupid? No. Optimistic, definitely. Although I’m flattered you think me capable of curing asala-taar with an orgasm.”

A brief bark of laughter came out of him and he straightened up somewhat. He looked more weary than previously (maybe because he was allowing her to see it?), but he was smirking. “Vashedan. I’m glad to see you. I was getting tired of the therapists and their platitudes. If I have to tell my nightmares one more time to anyone, I’ll steal their booze, I don’t care wh-”

She interrupted any unwise admissions with a light poke on his shoulder. “I won’t ask then. Tell me what you need.”

It was hard to read him sometimes but the way his face shifted told her how much those words meant to him. Without a word, he pulled her in her arms and pressed his face against her stomach. When he didn’t move nor talk for a long time, she started to pet the back of his head and his short fuzzy black hair absent-mindedly. Soon it became scratching and when she realized just how tense the back of his neck was, she rubbed it, quite determined to get him to relax. All the while, he was humming, groaning and grumbling, stroking his face against her dress like a territorial cat.

“Do you like cats?” She asked spontaneously.

“I prefer dogs,” he replied before pulling her on his lap.

“They use animals for therapy sometimes. Would you like to spend some time with a dog?”

He blinked down at her. “Beats doing nothing but training and weightlifting, I guess.”

“I’ll get you a dog,” she promised, patting his shoulder.

“A big one, to play fight with.”

“A big dog for the big warrior.”

“Damn right.”

She hid her giggles behind a hand when he straightened up and showed off his muscles playfully. That made him smirk. He pinched her hips and she squealed. He cupped her buttock with one hand and pushed up her dress with the other until he could stroke her thigh freely.

A shiver went up her spine. “Hissrad, what–”

“You said I’m in charge, right? I like to tease. It helps with feeling in control.”

She considered it, or tried to despite his very distracting touch. “Does it mean I can tease back?”

He burst into laughter and held her a little tighter. “That’s the spirit! Tease all you want, but I’m pretty sure I’ll win at this game.”

That was a given: teasing wasn’t really natural for her but indulging him seemed to put him in such a good mood that it was for a good cause… you know… for his recovery.

“Can I eat you up?”

“Uh?” Her blue eyes met his green ones in confusion.

He smirked. “You didn’t read this in your books, Ashkaari? Let me show you.”

He was really good at teasing.

*

Imekaris were so cute, Ashkaari thought as she reached a small group of eight years old following their tamassrans towards the lake, probably for their hebdomadary swimming lessons. They weren’t leaving their boarding school often and as such were eager to see new faces. They greeted a corporal with a chorus of “Shanedan, Karasten, thank your for protecting us!” and waited with bated breath. Without a word or stopping on his way, the Karasten reached for the great axe on his back and whirled it around. The children cheered with delight before sprinting to catch up with the tamassran who indulgently pretended to ignore the event.

Ashkaari chuckled when the Karasten crossed her path and she noticed his lopsided smile. How could anyone blame him? It was considered a good omen to make imekaris happy. Their laughters brightened a day.

Unfortunately for Ashkaari, it wasn’t enough to keep the stress away. Having a meeting with the Ariqun, the leader of the “Dangerous Questions” branch of the Qunari (also called the spymaster), and the head therapist of the Viddathlok tended to do that to most people, she supposed.

“The last psychological evaluation of Hissrad is positive. Symptoms of asala-taar have been decreasing steadily to a manageable situation,” the therapist explained.

“That’s good to hear, I’d have hated to lose one of our best agents,” the spymaster noted. “I understand this was thanks to you, Ashkaari?”

“The treatment obtained quite good results. Repeating it a day after each recorded outbreak seemed to give the best effects. The psychological monitoring and animal therapy done in combination heightened its effectiveness. Your psychologist included the new treatments efficiently,” Ashkaari said to the head therapist who listened with a pleased nod.

“Is this treatment generalizable?” The Ariqun asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Ashkaari admitted, “it requires a state of mind in both patient and therapist that I do not believe could be easily found. I recommend it in some specific cases only for now.”

The Ariqun pursed his lips in displeasure. “Then this was a waste of time.”

“I do not call the recovery of one of our best agents a waste of time,” the spymaster disagreed. “I’m quite pleased with this result. Well done, Ashkaari.”

“I agree. It opens new ways of handling asala-taar and that’s always good. I think we learned from this.”

Ashkaari stopped herself from beaming at the praise given, after the Ariqun’s criticism it was quite welcome. “I’d like to recommend a development of animal therapy however. Be it with cats or dogs, it seems to give very positive results. Hissrad reported that several warriors looked more open around an animal.”

“I suppose it’s better than nothing,” the Ariqun relented. “You may continue your improvement study, Ashkaari.”

Understanding this was her dismissal, she bowed her head respectfully and gladly took her leave.

Hissrad will soon be sent to new duties outside of Par Vollen. There was little chance she will ever see him again but she took pleasure in the knowledge that she had made a difference for him. She had been growing quite fond of him during these two months of therapy.

Chapter Text

A week later, Ashkaari was studying Rivaini books on medicine in the Great Library of Qunandar. The Qunari were unquestionably the best in all Thedas for physical treatments and psychological conditioning but she was of the opinion there was something to learn from the healing traditions of the mind as it was done by Rivaini seers. Although it was rooted in magic, no arcanic knowledge or practices were needed, not for what interested her, as such Ashkaari was hopeful she could introduce it to the therapists (with careful rewording).

Three more books appeared next to her elbow. She looked up from her reading to smile at the assistant librarian.

“That’s all I could find on the subject,” the young woman admitted.

“That’s already more than I hoped for. Thank you.”

The librarian nodded and twirled a strand of hair around a finger as she glanced towards the end on the table.

Ashkaari followed her stare and noticed a rather handsome man. She knew of him: scholar like her, he was specialized in sciences. Last time she had heard about him, he was working on a variation of gaatlok. Right now, his papers were covered in equations and he was frowning at them like they had personally offend him.

“You should wait until he’s smiling before going to ask him if he wants to spend the night with you,” she suggested.

The librarian blushed. “You think?”

“Sure. You’re beautiful and he’ll want to celebrate his next success.”

“He has been frowning for two days,” the assistant admitted with a frown of worry.

Ashkaari chuckled. “If you’ve been watching him for two days, I’m sure you can wait just as much for him to figure it out.”

“Yes. You’re right. I’ll do that.” Filled with a new confidence, the young woman went away, passing behind the scientist to admire the way his shoulders stretched his tunic.

Ashkaari hid a smile behind her hand.

“Are you playing matchmaker now?”

Startled, she looked behind her to find Hissrad watching her with a smirk. She huffed. “Hardly. I’m just giving the sort of advices I wish I had been given when I was her age.”

“And now you’re sounding old,” he teased as he sat down on her left.

She hit his bare arm in reprisal. “I see you’ve been released from the Viddathlok.”

“That’s a bit too obvious to change the subject, don’t you think?” He leaned forward, his forearm resting against hers. “I’ll find your age one way or another, Ashkaari, you realize.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do not see how that’s relevant but if you insist I’m twenty-six.”

“That’s what I thought: four years too young to sound like an indulgent Tamassran.”

“I know you’re only two years older than me, Hissrad.”

“Yep, and I never pretended being a wise man.”

“Does that mean I can ignore everything leaving your mouth?” She quipped, turning distractedly a page of her book as she glanced up. She caught the spark of mischievousness in his eyes just in time to realize she had given him the perfect opportunity to make a comment on his mouth and their previous activities. She nudged his forearm in a hurry. “Don’t you dare!” When he quietly laughed at her, she snorted and shook her head. “You’re really looking and sounding better. Why I’ve to be the victim of your boredom, I don’t know.”

“Pure coincidence. I was looking for something to read,” he explained, showing a book on Orlesian culture, “and here was someone whom I didn’t have the opportunity to thank.”

“Oh, and who might that be, I wonder?”

Hissrad tilted his head at the reminder there had been no thanks of any kind. His fingers brushed the back of her hand. “I appreciate what you did for me, Ashkaari, thank you. I wasn’t looking forward to reeducation.”

She smiled at him gently. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you feel better. Did you receive new orders?”

“Not yet. They’re giving me some time off I suppose.”

A loud bang interrupted them. Every head around turned toward the massive doors of the library where a clerk had knocked a heavy staff against the ground to announce an official declaration. “The Triumvirate is in need of a Third for replacement of the Arishok. Those qualified, step forward.”

A heavy silence planned on the library until Ashkaari stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor in the silence. She met the assistant librarian stare and gestured towards her space to tell her to guard it for her. Then she looked down to Hissrad and mouthed an apology to him before going to the clerk.

She was led to the assembly room nearby where the Arigena and the Ariqun were already waiting. No Triumvirate meeting could be complete without three persons present to keep the balance, although any replacement had mostly a witnessing role.

Ashkaari’s education allowed her to to stand in for any member of the Triumvirate. It was quite rare: most people could only stand in for the leader of the branch they were in and only when they reached a certain rank.

The Arishok’s absence wasn’t surprising. The leader of their army was often away from Par Vollen. In those cases, one of his generals took his place in the Triumvirate. Recently, the Sten famous for fighting in the Fifth Blight was the one having this duty. If he wasn’t here nor any other Kithshok then the meeting must be an emergency.

“Let’s start,” the Ariqun immediately ordered, arms crossed and brows furrowed. The Ariqun wasn’t a cheerful man but his demeanor told her there were heavy news coming.

The Arigena was a very sensible woman. She turned to Ashkaari and explained: “The Arishok was tasked with retrieving the Tome of Koslun for us.”

Ashkaari perked up. For any scholars as she, the loss of this sacred scripture was a tragedy. She had heard that Orlais had finally agreed to return it but not much more than that.

“And he failed,” the Ariqun hissed with so much disgust it was tangible.

“The Tome was stolen from the Orlesian before it was delivered to him,” the Arigena tempered. “His last report, three months ago, told us he was giving chase to the thief. We finally heard back from him today. His dreadnought and the pirate’s ship were hit by a storm. They washed ashore. The damages and losses were heavy, the Rasaan among them.”

Oh, that explained the foul mood of the Ariqun. Rasaan was his successor and his representative by the Arishok’s side. Everyone knew the Ariqun was extremely fond and proud of his heir.

“The Tome was lost.”

Ashkaari held back a whimper at the thought of the sacred scripture at the bottom of the ocean.

“The Arishok and his men are stranded in Kirkwall, a city of the Free Marches. He told us that the local Viscount cooperates, for now. He’s planning to continue his search for the Tome.”

“As he should!” The Ariqun exclaimed, finally uncrossing his arms and standing tall. “He’s a disgrace. He can’t be allowed to show himself without the Tome after such a high cost!”

The Arigena tilted her head. “I tend to agree. The Tome must be retrieved and his return without it would be detrimental to the morale.”

“Then it is decided, the Arishok and his troops are in exile.”

Ashkaari looked between them, wide-eyed. As replacement she didn’t have a vote and surely, considering that the Triumvirate members were chosen for their ability to make the hard decisions, if she was thinking they were harsh, it was undoubtedly because she was unworthy of their positions. Still, when they looked ready to conclude the meeting on that, she dared to ask: “It might take months, what about the commandement of the Antaam?”

“The Kithshok currently standing in for him will continue to do so as long as necessary,” the Arigena replied without a care, as if it was obvious. Maybe it was.

“And… what about the Rasaan position?” She asked more bashfully. It was her duty as replacement of the Arishok to ask those questions, she couldn’t be deterred.

“What about it?” The Ariqun growled.

Ashkaari blinked at him. “Who will be sent to replace her?”

“No-one will be sent. The Arishok is exiled! He’ll receive no help until he proved his worth.”

Ashkaari gaped. When the Arigena didn’t bat an eye, she realized she had missed some clue. She had done well to ask because this… there was no way she could let this pass without speaking up. “With all due respect, this is unwise,” she stated bluntly. “You can’t let part of the Antaam stranded in foreign land without Tamassrans or any kind of support.”

“Why not?” The Arigena asked placidly. “They still have artisans. They can provide for themselves.” As the leader of the craftspeople, she was mostly ignorant of the Antam’s needs unless it was something her people provided. The Ariqun however should be perfectly aware of the risks.

“For two reasons: the Rasaan advises the Arishok on the will of the Qun, without her counsel the Arishok is more likely to act militarily, as is his forte, which could be detrimental in a foreign country with which we’re not at war. Secondly, any extended stay in foreign land without an appropriate spiritual support increases the risk of asala-taar significantly. That’s why there is at least one member of the priesthood on each dreadnought and settlement.” Before the Ariqun could interrupt, Ashkaari added: “Furthermore, the Arishok is well respected by the Antaam. The longer his exile and the worse its effect on the troops’ morale will be. We would all benefit from his goal being reached as fast as possible and as such we should provide him with the best tools to do so. The Antaam is not meant to be chasing thieves on foreign soil. Ben-Hassraths agents should be deployed to provide him with the information he needs.”

“He lost the Tome, he should be the one to retrieve it,” the Ariqun fumed.

“And he will be,” the Arigena agreed but she was staring at Ashkaari thoughtfully, a hand under her chin. “Nonetheless, this analysis is sound. I agree with the measures proposed to make this as swift as possible. A body without a soul is nothing but a beast. The body will act but has to be provided for first.” She turned expectant eyes on the Ariqun who faltered.

“Very well.”

Ashkaari left, pleased that she had succeeded in her role.

She should have known there would be repercussions. The Ariqun was naturally vindictive and grief didn’t improve his disposition.

*

The following morning, Ashkaari was summoned at dawn in the Ariqun’s office.

She left it in a daze and took a few seconds to focus. Asit tal-eb. The Ariqun was an asshole but still. It was meant to be. Whining and stressing because of this new development was useless. She had her orders and she’ll do her best, as she always did, to serve the Qun in the capacity dictated to her.

She nodded to herself and breathed in deeply one last time before walking to the Ben-Hassrath’s quarter. Her fingers were forming the circle of harmony under the blue sash marked with her title. She had the bad habit of wringing her hands when she was nervous. This was an old trick, just as noticeable for anyone knowing her but at least tolerated by her instructors.

Ashkaari had never stepped into this part of Qunandar and she had to ask for directions several times before finally finding the room she was looking for. It was a dormitory dedicated to Ben-Hassrath agents from the “Dangerous Questions” branch waiting for reassignments and she found several of them sitting on the ground or on beds, playing some sort of card game, a bas invention, one of those things they were supposed to understand to blend in a foreign crowd.

They didn’t move or stopped their conversation when she walked in but she had no doubt they all were aware of her presence. Hissrad was the one who meet her eyes. She tilted her head towards the hallway.

“I fold,” he announced to the room before following her. “What’s wrong?” He asked as soon as they were alone.

“I’ve been reassigned,” she explained, fingers clenching around the fabric hanging down from her waist. “And you’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“Kirkwall.”

He tilted his head. “The Free Marches? Why would they send you there?”

“The Arishok is stranded there. He’s without Rasaan.”

“And you’re to take her place?” Quietly, he breathed: “Who did you piss off?”

“The Ariqun,” she replied just as quietly.

“Vashedan. You don’t do things in half. Why am I coming?”

“The Arishok is looking for a bas thief and what was stolen.”

“Am I to do this alone?”

“No. You’ve leave to chose two others.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, scratching his chin in thought. “When are we leaving?”

“At four o’clock this afternoon.”

His brows went up in surprise and he pointed at her. “Can I expect more info later or am I going blind in this?”

“Later,” she promised.

He nodded and relaxed somewhat. “Four o’clock on the docks, you got it.”

She nodded and went to leave for her own preparations, but he held her back by the forearm. “Hey. Did you… ever leave Par Vollen?”

“I went to Seheron and Rivain.” As an erudite, she went to see the world with her instructors during her formative years but she would have needed special permission and escort to leave Qunari settlements. She had read a lot of bas literature but this journey to Kirkwall would be a first in many ways.

“Okay. Well, I heard the Free Marches are drier and colder. You might want to pack more horn balm.”

She blinked in surprise and smiled slightly. “Thank you for the advice, Hissrad.”

*

Travels were exhausting as a rule. Sea travel was worse. Ashkaari wasn’t seasick but being in close quarters with so many people for so long wasn’t her cup of tea. There wasn’t a place in a dreadnought where she could be alone without feeling confined. They were midway through and already she was eager to be at Kirkwall. It still terrified her somewhat but at least she could be scared in her own personal space larger than a cupboard once there.

She sighed and shifted in her bedding, trying to find a comfortable position to read. She had borrowed several books at the library before leaving. The first, a treatise about the Free Marches, had been finished two days ago. She was now deep in the slave revolt described by the History of Kirkwall and she was enjoying learning how the Imperium got its ass kicked out of the city.  

Two knocks at her cabin’s door got her attention. “Someone wants to see you, Ash,” Hissrad announced.

She jumped down her bunk and opened the door. “Someone?”

“Didn’t you hear all the ruckus? Another dreadnought came alongside us.”

They walked up the narrow stairs to the deck and Ashkaari noted with her own eyes the ship moving by their side at the exact same rhythm as them.

“Too bad you missed the Kithshok boarding, that was a sight.”

She looked up, startled. “A Kithshok? Why does he want to speak to me?”

“You’ll have to ask him. He’s in there.”

The captain’s cabin was only wider than the others rooms because it was used for meetings and housed all navigational tools. The captain was rarely there. As such, it was no surprise that she found the Kithshok standing alone by the table showing a map of Thedas.

He looked up at her entrance. She immediately recognized him. They had only crossed paths once before but he was easy to remember: he had no horns. He had also been the subject of many tales after his return from Ferelden, a year ago. His immediate rise in the hierarchy was admired.

“Kithshok, you wish to speak to me?”

“You’re the Ashkaari tasked with guiding the Arishok?”

“I am,” she confirmed, crossing her hands in front of her sash.

“I need you to deliver several missives to him.”

“Of course.” She took the letters, fully expecting him to leave immediately with the usual effectiveness and abruptness of the soldier caste. Yet, he stayed. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Tell him the Antaam will be taken care of during his absence but his return is awaited.”

She smiled softly. “It will be done.”

Satisfied, he bowed his head and went to the door.

Ashkaari stopped him before he could leave. “Kithshok. May I ask… The Arishok, I never met him. Is there anything I should know?”

He looked back at her, impassive, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. When he did, he was more open than she had hoped. “He’s the embodiment of his function. I serve him proudly. He has very little patience for bas however. Your counsel will be needed. He has always listened to the Rasaan.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, relieved at the idea that the Arishok will listen to her and yet nervous that she will need to be the diplomat.

“Panahedan.”

Once the door closed behind him, Ashkaari distractedly looked down at the missives she was holding. She will handle her new position, one step at a time.

“Hey.” Hissrad was waiting by the door and he tilted his head towards the deck.

Curious, Ashkaari went to look over his shoulder, just in time to see the Kithshok pole vaulting from one ship to the other, as if it was no big feat.

“Told you that you shouldn’t miss that. Pretty hot, uh?”

Flustered, Ashkaari hit Hissrad with the back of her hand. “Shut up,” she mumbled when he burst into laughter. He took way too much pleasure in making her blush but since their departure he had become a good friend.

There wasn’t much to do on a ship, leaving them with ample time to talk and he had taught her plenty about bas and what she could expect in their settlements. Strangely, he insisted a lot about smells. Maybe an obsession of his. He had commented about her floral soap before.

*

Kirkwall… stank.

“I warned you,” Hissrad reminded her. He was sitting in front of her in the rowboat bringing them to port. The dreadnought was too big to enter the harbour.

While the men rowed, Ashkaari was sitting on the goods they brought for the exiled soldiers. As soon as they passed the first ships, she had smell it. She was stubbornly keeping her hand above her nose, trying to focus on her own scent. “You did. But surely this is only on the docks?”

“My guess is that the further you go and the less it will smell like rotten fishes... instead it will smell like sewage, something weird that you don’t really want to define,” he replied without breaking the perfect rhythm they had going.

Ashkaari could see bas pointing at them from the docks. She ignored them, focusing on the recognizable silhouettes of her countrymen a bit farther. “On starboard, brothers. You might want to slow down, this port is a right mess. I really don’t want to know what’s floating on those waters.”

“Basra vashedan,” a sailor grunted.

“In a perfectly literal sense, indeed.”

They docked with a lot of help from their companions ashore. Maneuvering wasn’t easy with the rowboat so heavily loaded but proficiency was one of the main qualities valued by the Qun. As such, they probably did it in record time for the gawking bas.

Hissrad helped Ashkaari to stand on the crates, putting her at dock level. She was immediately faced with the unmistakable Arishok, recognizable to his red pauldrons, and she gratefully took the hand he offered her to jump at his side. He steadied her with a hand on her waist and led her away from the edge. Hissrad followed and they all exchanged a wordless nod of greeting. The rest of the Qunari helped to unload the shipment, except for two bodyguards who stayed at their back as they walked through the tortuous alleys of the city.

Ashkaari pulled on her long sleeves and covered her nose with it when a particularly foul whiff stung her eyes. “Is it always that bad?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes,” the Arishok replied with the finality and disdain of someone suffering wordlessly.

Ashkaari turned to Hissrad walking on her other side. “It’s incense I should have packed more of.”

The Ben-Hassrath smirked but stayed quiet, taking his cue from the Arishok.

The compound used by her people wasn’t far, near the main road but isolated. She was happy to discover that the smell inside was fainter. Like expected, it was also tidier. All in all, since it was here she’ll spend most of her time, it could have been worse… until she remembered there was no sanitation anywhere in this city. Still… it could have been worse.

The Arishok led them to a small dwelling with only a room on the ground floor and stairs going up in the back. Papers and books, the only ones she had seen around, where stacked on a table. This was probably the Arishok’s office, which meant his bedroom was upstairs.

An elf and an human were waiting by the desk. They straightened up at their arrival.

“Gatt, Kata,” Hissrad greeted them with a smile. “Any trouble entering the city?”

The viddathari had been dropped on the coast a day earlier. They couldn’t be seen with Qunari: that would betray their identities. As such, Hissrad had tasked them to come in Kirkwall on foot, observe the local security and warn the Arishok of their pending arrival.

“None,” Gatt replied with a disdainful snort. “The security is pitiful. Unless you go in Hightown, and even then, Kirkwall is a deathtrap.”

“It can be used to our advantage,” Kata noted, juggling with a dagger. A glance from the Arishok made her stop and the dagger disappeared somewhere.. in her tight clothing.

“This city is a mire. Razing it to the ground would be more proficient,” the Arishok growled.

“Did you located the Tome of Koslun, Arishok?” Ashkaari asked calmly, hands crossed in front of her.

“No,” he admitted.

“Then making a mess of things would be hardly helpful. I admire your forbearance of this situation. I truly do. Please bear with it a little longer,” she said. Once she got a nod out of him, she raised a hand towards her friend. “Let’s make this more efficient, shall we? This is Hissrad, he’ll find the Tome for us. Please, share everything you know with us.”

They took a seat around the room and listened to the Arishok’s tale of the theft and the following chase ended by a storm and two shipwrecks. There was a military precision to his story but his distaste for the thief and his frustration were bleeding into his choice of words.

“You think the thief is still here?” Hissrad asked.

“Yes. She has been seen.”

“Then we’ll find her.”

The Ben-Hassraths took their leave. After a few seconds of silence, the Arishok stood up. “I shall show you your quarters.”

“Peace, Arishok.” She went to him and lay her fingers on his chest. “You’re weary. We shall speak first.”

“It can wait.”

“It can not. Your frustrations and weariness are coloring your view of the world. You must find peace before resuming your duties.” She stayed firm, even confronted with his displeased frown. This was her duty to the Qun. She was Rasaan, maybe not in title but in responsibilities. She will speak up when needed and be heard. “Maraas shokra,” she reminded him.

He finally bowed to her will and turned towards the stairs, inviting her wordlessly to go first. She used the short interlude to focus her own mind. She was no Tamassran but she had learned to think like one when needed. From now on, this was only about the Arishok. He was trusting her to take care of him and as such she had to disregard her own feelings: her fatigue and doubts were irrelevant.

His bedroom was minimalist but they didn’t need much, just a sturdy bed. She waited for him in the middle of the room. “For each piece I remove, you shall tell me one thing troubling your mind.”

At his nod, she started by his gloves, then his belt, his faulds, his pauldrons and harness, his boots and pants. There had been slightly more than she had remembered to be honest, but the Arishok complied.

“This city is chaos, a constant irritation by its smell, its noises. The bas are whining and demanding, stinking of fear and deception. My men are restless and without answers to their doubts. I’ve been away from the Antaam for too long. The sacred Tome is lost and its state unknown. The thief is walking freely despite her crime. I’ve failed the Qun.”

Surprised by his last admission, Ashkaari met his steady gaze before gesturing toward the bed. “Sit.”

As he did, she removed her boots, gloves and surcoat, folding them beside the clothes of the Arishok on a table. A bowl, a pitcher of water and a towel were laid there. She took them and went to crouch between the Arishok’s legs, paying no mind to his nudity. After wetting the towel, she slowly washed away the vitaar he was wearing, taking care to brush his skin in growing circles to relax him.

“You’ve not failed the Qun, Arishok. You’ve done your duties and you continue to do so to the best of your abilities.”

“I’ve failed the mission given to me.”

“You’ve encountered unexpected setbacks. Chasing thieves is certainly not your speciality and thunderstorms can’t…”

“Excuses.”

“ Facts, ” she corrected, glaring at him. “Your mission might take more time than expected but a failure it isn’t yet. If you continue with that mindset however, I do not expect you to do well,” she admonished him, scrubbing a little harder on a part refusing to go away. “Asit tal-eb, Arishok. Do not dwell needlessly on the past.”

No answer came but as she finished her work, she heard him murmur under his breath: “The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless.”

“Struggle is an illusion. There is nothing to struggle against,” she recited. Done with her task, she rose on her knees and reached for his face. Slowly, she rubbed his face in small circles, starting by his forehead and his horns base, going down his temples, under his eyes, then to his jaws and behind his ears. “Lay down on your stomach.”

Like many Qunari, this was the only way he could lie down comfortably. Being able to sleep on one’s back like Hissrad could was rare and Ashkaari personally was glad that her horns allowed her to sleep on her side (with a good pillow’s help).

She straddled his hips to reach his shoulders in a comfortable massaging position. Gently, she moved his hair away from the back of his neck and pressed with her thumbs along his muscles, slowly going down. “As for the rest… I’ve met the hornless Kithshok. He has entrusted missives to me and a personal message.” She passed it on, knowing that those words could do a lot to help him relax. Muscles loosened under her hands.  

“Good. I shall see the missives later.”

“Later. You’re still too tense, Arishok.” She used more of her weight to knead his lower back before going up until she had to move forward to reach his head and rubbed his scalp carefully, especially around the horns. She scratched a little, tentatively, and received a hum in reward. Pleased with this success, she continued patiently.  “Now, what else…? Ah, yes. The city. Unfortunately, I must agree with you there. But on the matter of handling the bas or the doubts of your soldiers, please remember I’m here to assist you on those subjects, you do not have to deal with them alone from now on.”

“Your guidance is welcome.”

“It is freely given.” She shifted aside and tilted her head. “Do you need release Arishok?”

“Yes.”

“I shall undress then.” She stood up carefully to not jostle him, relaxed as he was. She removed her blue sash and her wide pants before fumbling with the strings of her top tied behind her neck. A hand on her hip guided her back to sit on the bed, allowing the Arishok to undo the knots for her. His hands were callous but warm. They brushed against her soft skin while he worked and went down her back once the ties were freed. Ashkaari folded the fabric and dropped it on the ground, distracted by her companion pushing her hair over her shoulder to nuzzle her neck as he drew her closer to his chest.

“You smell of the flowers of Par Vollen.”

She hummed and raised a hand to his cheek. Before she could say anything, he had pulled her on his lap, apparently determined to enjoy any positive scent, maybe the first he had smell in months. She let him.

There was little to no point in trying to preserve the usual formality of a private meeting with a Tamassran. Everyone knew that things were done differently  away from Par Vollen. The needs and circumstances were different, adaptation was necessary. If that involved more pleasure and intimacy for a better efficiency then it was for the best.

The strong hands stroking her skin certainly reminded her that no matter where she was, she was at home in the Qun.

Chapter Text

The following day, Ashkaari was awoken by sunlight. The sky had cleared up and the window had no curtains. Most Qunari woke up with dawn… and she was late.

Raising on her elbows, she looked around to realize she had fallen asleep in the Arishok’s bed after their third round of sex (he had quite a lot of frustration to vent and energy to spend; she didn’t remember her previous partners ever having such a short refractory period). Her stomach was currently reminding her that by doing so she had skipped dinner.

She pushed away the sheet covering her naked body and walked to the table supporting a toilet set. She washed up quickly, noting the hand marks on her wide hips and the nails tracks on her thighs. It didn’t hurt, but she moved her hair to check there were no bite marks or love bites anywhere visible on her neck and shoulders (although there would be no shame in that, it was not the kind of things she wanted people to notice when they first met). To be honest, she had lost track after her second orgasm, and the Arishok had been so controlled that she hadn’t worry too much about it. He had seemed to prefer nuzzling and licking rather than biting or sucking. She wasn’t going to complain.

Apparently, she had been right to trust him. Her pale grey skin was spotless above her breasts. The love bite on the underside of her bosom was easily covered with her breast band. Her red and blue knotted top was a little harder to adjust when she realized she was aching from keeping her arms up for too long, but she managed. After that, she put up her dark grey pants and adjusted them around her waist with her blue sash, making sure that the long band of fabric with the white emblem for her title fell perfectly above her knees.

The toga she used to wear back in Par Vollen was much easier to put on, but on foreign soil practicality dictated she should be able to defend herself if need be.   

She sat down to put on her knee-high boots and tried to focus on her breathing. Today, she was going to meet the rest of the Qunari stranded in Kirkwall. She was going to take her first steps as the replacement for the Rasaan. To say she was nervous was a euphemism.

As she cleaned up the table, she noticed a small mirror and raised it to her face. She was slender but with a square jaw, thick lips and an aquiline nose. By her people standards, she had a pretty face and a long night of rest seemed to have done her wonders. Her blue eyes were sharp. She was fit to be seen. Although… She looked for a comb and went to work on her long wavy hair to make it as smooth as a river going down her back.

Alright. Now, she could face the day.

The Arishok was finishing breakfast at his desk. He looked up when she came in.

“My apologies for falling asleep in your bed, Arishok.”

“It is of no consequences. You were tired, and I exhausted you. Come. Eat.” He gestured to the plate on the other side of his desk.

She dragged a chair to sit opposite him. “Thank you.”

Breakfast was porridge with apple pieces. The Arishok poured her some tea but not any that she recognized. It lacked the fruity flavor she favored and, if she had been at home, she would have added some honey. She will have to do without her usual luxuries.

“Did you had any difficulties with supplies?” she asked.

Because of the Ariqun’s reluctance, she had been able to bring only rare supplies with her, such as medical herbs or specific qunari specialties. She hoped that food wouldn’t be a problem.

“Soldiers provide meat and fishes. We have found satisfactory bas merchants for the rest,” he replied with a slight scowl.

She nodded in understanding. There was nothing that the Qunari hated more than not being self-sufficient. To rely on bas was distasteful. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

“The craftswomen meet each morning for the Greetings to the Sea. You might be able to join them if you hurry.”

Ashkaari hastily finished her meal. When she looked up from her tea, she caught a hint of amusement in the Arishok’s eyes, but she didn’t linger on it, excusing herself and stopping just long enough to hear where she had to go.

She had tried to maintain her daily training, truly, but exercising on a boat was worse than sleeping or just living on a boat (which were bad enough: it was no wonder that she had slept so much after the troubled nights she had had for weeks). She couldn’t wait to stretch her limbs on solid ground. Furthermore, it was the perfect occasion to meet the other women in the compound.

They were six. A cook, a surgeon, a carpenter, a blacksmith, a sailmaker (which was converting to tailor by necessity) and an engineer. They welcomed her with open arms.

“It’s time we finally have a priestess to arrange things around here. Your guidance is much needed, Ashkaari,” the surgeon said, her friends agreeing with eager nods. “Would you like to lead us in the Greetings?”

“I will tomorrow, if you wish me to, but you’re more familiar with each other for now, so please, lead us.”

The Greetings started with stretching, followed by forms practice and ended with individual fights. Each woman had her own strengths. The cook had a mean punch. The surgeon went for joints and pressure points. The carpenter was very static with an impenetrable defense, while the tailor was constantly moving. The blacksmith strikes were as sharp as a blade, and the engineer seemed to always be one move ahead. It was quite fascinating for Ashkaari, who had more often trained with scholars or priestesses rather than craftswomen. The differences were obvious. Those women had to train more to follow the Antaam in foreign land. They were held to higher standards in self-defense.

Ashkaari’s adversary, the tailor, put her on her back easily. Ashkaari probably wouldn’t win a fight against them before months but, for some reasons, it endeared her to those women who decided to make it their duty to help her adapt to a life with the Antaam.

“First rule,” the carpenter told her as they led her to where she could change and freshen up, “don’t try to give them the silent treatment, you’ll get bored before them.”

“In fact, do the exact opposite: talk their head off,” the cook advised excitedly, “they’ll do whatever you want to make you stop.”

“It’s her specialty,” the blacksmith noted, rolling her eyes. “Second rule: stay in the Arishok’s good graces.”

“We will help. We know everything about his preferences,” the tailor said with a grin.

“He hates squids. There was this one time when it was the only thing we had to eat. I thought he was going to vomit,” the cook whispered.

“He has an old injury to the left elbow that bothers him sometimes,” the surgeon added. “Don’t ever try to ask him anything when it happens.”

Ashkaari had never thought that gossiping could be so useful. Her tutors would have been outraged that she listened to it, but nothing they had taught her would help as much as the tips she got thanks to her new friends.

*

Her first day had been tiring but went remarkably well. Ashkaari was now familiar with the compound and its everyday life. She had taken note of anything urgent needing her attention and knew that she had a lot of work waiting for her.

Everyone had been pleased by her arrival and helpful, although she had no doubt that they were waiting to see what she would do and reserving their judgment.

She had a private room on the first floor, not far from the Arishok’s dwelling. Some exterior stairs allowed her to come and go at will. It wasn’t much: a bed, a trunk, a very small table and a stool, but it was enough. Sleeping and writing were the only things she expected to do here. Currently, writing was her first preoccupation. She had planned from the start to keep a journal during this trip, to record anything of interest she could find. To make it worthwhile, she needed to organize her thoughts however, and it wasn’t an easy task.

She was playing with her quill when Hissrad knocked and immediately walked in. “Hi there.” He sniffed loudly. “Already making a dent in your incense stock?”

Considering that the smell coming from outside in this late afternoon was a mix of rotten fish and sewer, yes, some incense was needed to help her focus… for all the help it was. “I was hoping it would help clear my mind a little,” she admitted, carefully closing her journal on a small paragraph about Kirkwall’s harbor and its heavy chains.

“What? The hot night wasn’t enough? Here go all those rumors about the Arishok’s exploits.”

She glared at him as he lied down without asking on her bed. “Don’t be rude…” She closed the ink bottle and grumbled. “There’s nothing wrong with the Arishok’s… performance.”

He burst out laughing, and she felt the tips of her pointy ears blushing just as much as her cheeks. “I bet there wasn’t. He must have exhausted you if you stayed there all night.”

“Oh, shut up,” she groused. “Do you have something else you wanted to talk about or are you just here to annoy me? How is your work going?”

“Eh, it’s fine. We identified the best spots to find information. Their most notorious tavern, the Hanged Man, will soon be my favorite place in town, I wager.”

“The Hanged Man. Lovely.”

“I won’t offend you by taking you there, my lady,” he teased.

“You better not, or you’ll hear my best imitation of a noblewoman ,” she quipped with a high-pitched and snooty voice. She used the common tongue for that word which had no equivalence in qunlat. Nobility was a basra invention (and not one of their best).

He laughed loudly and sat up to hit his knee in mirth. “You do it so well, I might have to, just for the laughs!”

She smirked proudly. “I heard one of those Magisters once in Rivain. Even in chains, she was despicable.”

“Yeah, that’s them alright. A stroll in Hightown will give you lots of other examples. Nobles aren’t much different here, less magic and slaves, that’s all.”

“I’m not eager to meet them. I have already a lot of work waiting for me in this compound.”

“You’ll do great,” he reassured her, easily picking up on her worry.

“I hope so,” she sighed. “In the meantime, you were right. It is quite colder and drier here, isn’t it? I’m glad for my surcoat. I have no idea how you and the soldiers go around bare-chested.”

“It’s the muscles.”

She snorted. “Of course. Silly me.” She turned around with a small pot of horn balm in hands.

“I will do yours if you do mine,” Hissrad offered, catching her wrist to pull her between his legs.

“Oh, it can take a little long…”

“Because of the ridges, right? I like those. I always want to touch horns which aren’t smooth.”

Ashkaari parted her lips in surprise. Qunari usually considered smooth horns as being more attractive, and the bigger the better: as such the Iron Bull and the Arishok were considered quite handsome. Ashkaari rarely received compliments about her slender ridged horns: considered too frail by most, they weren’t her best feature.

She cleared her throat and opened the jar for him in a silent invitation. It was considered intimate to rub someone else horns. She was pleased that Hissrad felt so familiar with her and that he saw in one of her flaws something he liked. That was… comforting.

He hummed as he made sure that every ridge and hollow was covered by the hydrating salve. Sitting between his legs with her back to his chest, she leaned in his embrace and closed her eyes to appreciate this small comfort.

As he spread salve on the curve before the tips, he commented: “You should get one of those pieces of jewellery with little gold chains, you know? You’d look pretty in chains.”

She covered the bottom of her face with her hands at his not-so-subtle innuendo, trying to stop herself from giggling.

“Or shackles, maybe? One on each side.” He circled each horn between two fingers in demonstration.

She shrugged and ducked her head slightly. “I don’t like to draw attention to my horns.”

His arm went around her belly for a light hug as he murmured in her ear. “Too bad. You would look great.” He kissed her cheek and left it at that. The conversation went back to what he had observed of Kirkwall.  

Chapter Text

The Qunari stranded in Kirkwall were a mess. That was Ashkaari very professional opinion after a week. Back in Par Vollen, they would have all been sent for a brief stay in the temple of healing. Here in Kirkwall, it meant that she spent a lot of time talking about “feelings” which wasn’t easy for most Qunari ‒ in fact, talking to some soldiers was a very laborious process. Still, that was her task, and their duty to the Qun dictated that they had to cooperate so, slowly but surely, she made some progress during that first month.

There were a few interludes.

She had her first trial as a diplomat when an envoy from the Viscount came to ask the Arishok why they weren’t leaving although a ship had finally come from Par Vollen. Apparently, there had been some miscommunication on their departure. The human had seemed quite displeased to hear they still had business in Kirkwall and even more so when they refused to explain what held them back here exactly. The Arishok hadn’t care, annoyed to be bothered by fruitless questions. Frankly, Ashkaari hadn’t been much use here: although she had answered more politely than the leader of the Antaam, the concerns of what bas called nobility had seemed quite unimportant at the time.

Then there were Hissrad’s reports. He was spending most of his days and some of his evenings outside of the compound, looking for information. Regularly, he came to her and told her about what he observed from the bas. Ashkaari was probably one of the only qunari in the compound interested in hearing about it. They discussed his observations and tried to make sense of the weird local vocabulary, habits and customs. She learned a lot thanks to him, although she hadn’t put a foot outside of the compound yet. It was also exactly what she needed: to pursue her path of learning (her fundamental purpose) for some time, instead of pondering how to be a good therapist with the basic theory and small experience she had.

Those who worried her the most were the Arvaarad and their Saarebas. Their difficulties and doubts were more complex than those of ordinary soldiers. Usually, any therapy for them would be done by a specialist in magic. Until now, Ashkaari hadn’t made any progress with them but, still, she tried.

To talk to them though, they needed to be where she could reach them. After she waited several days without finding those she sought, she went to ask the Arishok where they were.

“The karataam has been defeated by Tal-Vashoth,” he explained somberly. "The Saarebas is missing.”

Wide-eyed, Ashkaari tried to deal with the idea that Tal-Vashoth could be strong enough to defeat an infantry platoon. That didn’t sit well with her. She was aware that there were many of them after the shipwreck, but surely it couldn’t be that bad. Still, she knew the Saarebas, he was faithful to the Qun, he wouldn’t have followed the Tal-Vashoth, not if he had any choice in the matter.  “You have sent soldiers to look for him, I presume?”

“Yes.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I wish to accompany them. He might need my guidance.”

“No.”

She raised an eyebrow. That was the first time the Arishok had denied her anything. She didn’t appreciate his finality. “Why?”

“Outside is no place for a civilian to be.”

That got her frowning. “Let me stop any presumption you may have on the matter, Arishok: if you expect me to stay quietly confined in this compound for all the duration of our stay, you can forget it. I have no plan to endanger myself needlessly, but I certainly won’t be restricted in my travels. I will go where I am needed, as is my duty, and you will ensure that I may do so in the best and safest conditions,” she stated in the most commanding tone she could manage.

The Arishok stared at her for a few seconds. The silence stretched as onlookers waited with curiosity the conclusion of this argument. It was hard to read the Arishok, but there seemed to be a spark of interest in his eyes where there had been apathy previously.  “Your escort will be ready in ten minutes.”

She gave him her best smile. “Thank you.” As she turned around, wondering what she was supposed to take for such a trip, she ignored those who had eavesdropped in their conversation. Being confident was all fine, but she didn’t know how to prepare for the outside… Where was Hissrad when she needed him?

*

Three hours later, with a lot of patience from her bodyguards and deep breaths of fresh air, Ashkaari finally reached the mountain path where the track led to.

A karataam was indeed waiting there, but her escort stopped her from approaching when they noticed their brothers were confronting bas. Ashkaari was more focused on the saarebas kneeling by their side, and she brushed away the arm trying to keep her back. “Will you cease this? I will retreat if danger there is but do not presume to tell me where I can or can not go, Sten. Really, this is a bad habit, soldiers.” With a huff, she went down the hill and made her presence known.

“Ashkaari, you shouldn’t be here,” the Arvaarad said, frowning.

Now frankly annoyed, she glared at him. “I will be where I’m needed, Arvaarad. Why are the bas here? Are they a threat to Saarebas?”

“Saarebas has been with them outside of his karataam, they might be all corrupted. They have to be killed. You should leave.”

“You’re too hasty. The systematic elimination of potentially magically corrupted individuals isn’t allowed anymore.”

“In Par Vollen maybe, but here… this land is polluted and chaotic. It should be cleansed.”

“That is not your decision to make, Arvaarad. Wherever we are and whatever the situation, the Qun is law. Unless I say so, elimination isn’t necessary. Stand down.”

It took him a few seconds, but he obeyed.

Satisfied, Ashkaari turned to the bas who were curiously watching the conversation in qunlat. They were a strange bunch: two female humans, an elf and a dwarf. From what Ashkaari had gathered, bas tended to stay in groups of their own species. This was unusual.

“Hello. I’m Ashkaari. Who are you? ” she asked in a stilted and accented common. Writing and reading the trade tongue was no trouble for her, even hearing it was relatively easy when bas spoke well (which… was rare, she had to admit), but she was unused to speaking it.

The elf stepped forward and spoke in basic qunlat: “Shanedan, Ashkaari. Maraas shokra.” He turned to his companions and introduced them before doing the same for himself.

Ashkaari tilted her head in wonder. “The Arishok spoke of you,” she realized, remembering a comment he had made about a female bas more capable than some others accompanied by a white-haired elf knowing of the Qun. She had been intrigued, but meeting them here was unexpected. “Why are you with the Saarebas?”

“We were asked to escort him out of the city,” the Hawke woman with short hair explained. “We aren’t responsible for the deaths of your men, and we have no ill will. ”

Ashkaari stepped forward to reach her kneeling comrade. The Arvaarad stopped her. She rolled her eyes at him but stepped back and waved for him to do his work (like he should have done in the first place). Scanning the Saarebas was slow work.

“He has used magic recently, ” Arvaarad growled.

“We were attacked in the sewers. He only retaliated, ” Hawke explained.

“Did you tell him to? ” Arvaarad asked, glaring at her.

“What? Uh. No. ”

It was quite fascinating to see the human shifting slightly, trying to be honest without putting the Saarebas in trouble, although she probably had no idea of what would do so. Ashkaari was watching the proceedings, hands crossed in front of her. “Do you think of the bas as basvaarad, Saarebas?”

“She’s worthy of following,” the kneeling mage agreed, bowing his head.

“Fascinating,” Ashkaari noted, glancing at Hawke with interest. Before the Arvaarad could take this excuse to ask for their collective death, she waved towards him. “Well, is he possessed?”

“No,” Arvaarad admitted regretfully.

"Good. Then he’ll be brought back to the compound and receive counseling. Come here, Saarebas.”

He eagerly stood up and walked to her, bending down slightly to let her reach his mask.

“Poor dear. Who or what broke this mask? It’s hurting you.” She tutted and took the dagger she kept hidden her belt, using it to carefully cut the rope holding the mask to his horns. She removed the metal and observed his face marred with small cuts and dirt where sweat and dust mixed together. “We’ll take care of you at the compound. Where were you those last days that you are in such a taste?”

“One of their priestess and her guard had me. They weren’t worthy of following. ”

“That is displeasing to hear, especially considering your state. You will tell us more later. How are you feeling?”

“I’m thirsty.”

The Arvaarad immediately and without a word provided a waterskin, which rose him somewhat in her esteem. It was his duty to take care of the Saarebas. His insistence to kill indiscriminately hadn’t been a good sign until now, but it seemed that, with the Saarebas’ return to the Qun, the Arvaarad came back to a better state of mind.

This matter being dealt with, Ashkaari turned to the bas who were still watching them. From the corner of her eyes, she had seen the elf whisper, probably translating what he could understand.

“I’m pleased that the Saarebas found his way back to us uncorrupted. Thank you for your assistance in doing so. ”

“Uh. You’re welcome. What will happen to him?” Hawke senior asked.

“I will help him to recover, and we shall find a new Arvaarad to guide him.”

“Him?”  She pointed at the Arvaarad with a frown.

“No. Arvaarad here has enough Saarebas to take care of. If I remember well, another has recently lost a Saarebas. He will have more time to devote to a hurt soul.”

“So… that’s it? You’ll give him a bath and a meal, talk with him and put him in the care of someone else?”

“Yes, mostly… Were you expecting something else?”

“I heard you stitch together the lips of your mages and cut out their tongue when they misbehave,” she blurted out.

Ashkaari frowned, extremely displeased. “The stitching is an obsolete practice. It has been forbidden for centuries. Tongue removal is a last resort done in case of severe offense. It is extremely rare. I do not know from where your information come, bas, but I wouldn’t consider it as reliable.”

“Yeah… I’m gathering as much,” Hawke muttered.

“I don’t understand,” the younger Hawke with long hair said.

Willing to indulge the bas for the distraction and interesting information they were providing, Ashkaari tilted her head. “What bothers you?”

“I don’t understand how you treat your mages. You put them in chains and masks. There is always someone to tell them what to do, and this one was willing to kill him and us just because he was a few days without supervision…” Bethany Hawke said, pointing at the Arvaarad with distaste.  “But still, you… you take care of him and he’s eager to go back to the Qun. I don’t understand.”

“We all have our role in the Qun. A Saarebas must follow. An Arvaarad must guide and guard against corruption. And I am to ensure the wellbeing of my peers in harmony with the Qun. Those are our duties, and we’re accomplishing them to the best of our abilities. That is what gives us purpose. The way our lives are organized may seem strange to you, but cruelty isn't part of the Qun. A Saarebas is honored for the selflessness he shows by following his path. I would be remiss of my duties if I didn’t take care of him with as much dedication he has shown to his purpose.”

“Are you saying the more he submits and the more you pamper him?” the dwarf asked.

“I am unfamiliar with this word… pamper?”

“It’s like taking care of someone but even more so, a bit excessively maybe.” The dwarf explained without hesitation. A smart man then, an intellectual maybe, someone familiar with words.

“Excess is not in the Qun. But yes, I understand what you mean, and this might be true. Good behavior is always rewarded.”

For some reason, this seemed to puzzle the bas, except for the elf who stayed remarkably unexpressive, maybe because of his familiarity to the ways of the Qun.

*

They left, both going back the way they had come.

Ashkaari was true to her words once they were back to the compound, taking all the dispositions necessary for the Saarebas well-being before going to talk to the Arishok.

By then, he had received a report from the Arvaarad and the Sten, as such she didn’t bother explaining everything and right away noted: “You were right. Those bas are slightly more interesting than the norm.”

Leaning with his arms on his knees, looking at the compound down the stairs, the Arishok hummed slightly. “Yet, it has been twice that they have been involved in our affairs because of an outside party.”

“True. That’s unsettling. As much as the dwarf merchant you mentioned might be annoying, he’s one basra among many others of his kind fascinated by gaatlok. I’m more concerned by the involvement of a priestess in this matter.”

“She is of little consequence.”

“For now, maybe. However, if she is spreading lies about us to their believers, that is not only distasteful but also dangerous in the long term."

He finally glanced at her. She was standing by the side of his throne, making him look up. “All that basra do is lying. How is this any different?”

She crossed her arms. “They mistreated and tried to draw away one of our Saarebas from the Qun, then they tried to frame us as barbarians. If left ignored, they could easily turn the population against us which could hinder our immediate investigation for the Tome as well as complicate a later indoctrination.”

He straightened up slowly. “What do you propose?”

“I should first investigate the depth of this problem by speaking to their high priest.”

“An escort will be at your service.”

“Thank you.”

“You should take Hissrad with you.”

Surprised, she followed his gaze to the shadows where the Ben-Hassrath was lingering.

“Not a bad idea,” the spy agreed. “They’ll try to lie to you.”

She nodded. “Tomorrow morning then.”

*

Tired by such a long day, Ashkaari went to her room, followed by Hissrad. As she freshened up, he leaned with a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. “So, I heard you stood up to the Arishok this morning, got your way, and then scolded an Arvaarad like a mere boy in front of his Tama? Damn, it’s a shame I missed that.”

Ashkaari removed the weapons she had hidden in her clothing and glanced over her shoulder at him. Anything she could have say died on her lips when she met his heated look.

“That would have been hot… just as hot as seeing you with blades,” he commented slowly, stepping forward until his chest was to her back, his hands on her hips and his lips brushing her right ear.

She shivered and put down her dagger. “It’s nothing special.”

He snorted and licked the tip of her ear before stating: “You definitely made an impression today.”

“How so?”

“I heard some people calling you Rasaan.” He nibbled at her ear.

She had to push him away to think about this. Everyone knew that her position as Arishok’s adviser was temporary, an exception for exceptional circumstances. She hadn’t thought over it much, but she might not have been the only one to think less of herself for it.

Reading her easily, Hissrad added: “They respect you as a spiritual leader now.”

“What about the Arishok?”

“He’s letting you handle the bas priestess, isn’t he?”

“Yes. That’s… that’s good to hear.”

He hummed. “Something to celebrate, right?” He was holding her and nuzzling her, but he waited for her to sigh and agree before undressing her hungrily.

When he stubbornly kept her on top during sex, she asked absent-mindedly: “I thought you liked being in charge?”

“What makes you think I’m not in charge?” he breathed in her ear while making her jump slightly on his lap.

She hummed and let her forehead roll on his shoulder. “I meant to say: I thought you liked being on top.”

“Positions matter little.”

“Because you’re in charge no matter what?”

“Yeah.” He lay down slowly, adjusting their position as he went. “And the sight is just as good from top or bottom.” He cupped her breasts to highlight his point.

After a slow moan, she insisted: “But you have a preference depending on your mood.”

He nuzzled her temple. “Do you need me to blindfold you, kadan?”

She whined, aware that she was ruining the moment with her questions. She just couldn’t help it. She wanted to know how he worked, to understand him, and sex was a way to do that.  “Yes, please.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he drawled. “Do you know how good you look, all flushed and waiting for my touch?”

“Tell me.”

“Gladly, Rasaan.”

Chapter Text

Hightown was much more breathable than the rest of the city. Its architecture was also much more pleasing to the eye, but it didn’t soothe the heart. Such a disparity between districts, between different parts of the population, was absolutely unthinkable under the Qun. After walking through Lowtown, Hightown was strangely upsetting. It was one thing to think that all bas live in poverty and degrading conditions. It was another to find that some didn’t and used their wealth for their own gain rather than to elevate others to their status. Oh, of course, Ashkaari knew of such practices outside of the Qun. She had never seen it so blatantly however.

Stepping inside the Chantry didn’t improve her opinion in any way, except for the competency of the craftsmen responsible for such a beautiful edifice.

“Is that their prophet Andraste? ” she asked Hissrad, referring to the gigantic statue in the back.

“Think so, yeah. ”

“Yes, it is,” a human in white armor answered as he stepped forward. He was watching them warily, but he was the only one daring to talk to them. All the priestesses around them had stopped what they were doing at their arrival and were now watching and whispering at distance. “May I help you?”

“You might. I’m Ashkaari, spiritual leader of the qunari currently residing in the city. I wish to speak to your high priestess…” She turned slightly to Hissrad.

“Grand Cleric Elthina,” the Ben-hassrath provided her helpfully.

“I don’t know if she’s available,” their interlocutor admitted, turning slightly to ask one of the priestesses to warn their leader.

Ashkaari studied his armor curiously. “Are you one of the… templars?”

“Ah, no, my apologies, I’m Brother Sebastian.”

“That’s a title for a priest, isn’t it?” Ashkaari asked Hissrad in qunlat.

“Yeah. But men only deal with administrative matters mostly.”

“For once, bas do things right,” Ashkaari approved with a pleased nod and a smile for the Brother. “We will wait,” she told him.

“As you wish… May I offer you to come sit this way?” he said after a glance towards the doors.

“We’re frightening the believers who want to come in,” Hissrad explained with a smirk.

“Oh,” Ashkaari realized, “ far from me the presumption to come between a believer and his faith. Lead the way. ”

Brother Sebastian led them to a bench against a wall, far away from direct sight. Unbothered by what some could consider a slight, Ashkaari sat down. Hissrad leaned against the wall at her right and her four bodyguards took position around in the shadows.

For some reason, the Brother seemed uncomfortable leaving them or staying silent. “You asked about Andraste earlier… Do you know about the Chant?”

“I do,” she confirmed with a calm smile.

It seemed to surprise him. “Really? I… I thought Qunari wouldn’t be interested.”

“I’m Ashkaari, an erudite. It is my duty to know. And there is some wiseness in your Chant… among the rest.”

“Like?”

“Your Benedictions say: Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Those are words the Qunari can appreciate. There are, unfortunately, few of them.”

“Why?”

They were saved from a theological debate by the arrival of the sister sent as a messenger. “Grand Cleric Elthina will receive you in her office,” she said without daring making eye-contact.

“This way.” The Brother led them up some stairs. They passed by more sisters and templars staring at them wide-eyed.

The Grand Cleric’s office was not so grand that it was distasteful, which Ashkaari appreciated. Elthina didn’t wait behind her desk either: she immediately stepped forward to greet them.

Ashkaari’s escort waited in the hallway, but Hissrad followed her and no-one missed the way the Brother immediately stepped inside although he was previously getting ready to wait with the soldiers. The door stayed open.

“I’m Grand Cleric Elthina. What can I do for you?”

“I’m Ashkaari, spiritual leader of my people in Kirkwall. I have concerns about some doings of your priests.” She explained in details what had happened and her concerns, during which the Grand Cleric listened patiently.

“This is the first I hear about it. Although I’m aware that some of our brothers and sisters take your presence too personally, any actions against you are in no way sanctioned, and I do not condone such lies.”

Ashkaari glanced at Hissrad. He nodded, confirming the Grand Cleric was truthful. “Fear most often comes from ignorance. I’d like to talk to you so that we can better understand each other, if you have some time.”

“I’d appreciate such an opportunity,” the Grand Cleric agreed with a smile. She turned towards some chairs in front of a fireplace with a tea set on a low table.

As the women sat down, both men left without a word. Hissrad smirked at Sebastian on the way past him. This time, the door closed behind them.

Talking with the Grand Cleric was intellectually stimulating but also socially pleasing. She was a kind soul, open-minded and attentive. Although they had many disagreements, they learned much from each other, as intended. They could have easily continued their conversation on many others subjects than the most obvious ones to cover if they hadn’t been interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Someone called for templars reinforcements, ” Hissrad explained. “It’s becoming tense, we should probably leave unless you want a diplomatic incident.”

Both women sighed in such perfect synchronisation that Hissrad snorted.

“Thank you for this conversation, Grand Cleric. We should do this again.”

“Absolutely. Shall I see you to the front door?”

“If you please.”

They left the office to found templars every few meters, a blond man standing next to Brother Sebastian with a hand on the pommel of his sword. He was eying the Karashok with distrust but straightened when the Grand Cleric appeared.

“Knight-Captain Rutherford, this is unnecessary.”

“Forgive me, your Grace,” he replied, bowing respectfully. “I follow the Knight-Commander’s orders.”

“Of course,” Elthina sighed. “I apologize, please don’t take this personally,” she said to Ashkaari. “Our Knight-Commander is very adamant about preventive security.”

“And yet your city is crippled by criminality,” Ashkaari pointed out, ignoring the way the Knight-Captain did a double take at her but looked away when their eyes met.

“The templars are not in charge of the city’s security”.

“That’s a shame. Tell me, Grand Cleric, are you so often in danger that you need an army at your beck and call?”

“No, the templars main duties are in the Circle of Magi.”

“Ah, yes. Including, no doubt, keeping Saarebas away from their Arvaarad and mistreating them. Is that how you deal with your mages, templar, I wonder?” They had been slowly walking towards the stairs, but Ashkaari stopped to speak to the Knight-Captain.

“We… ah… we protect the mages from themselves and from others, Ma’am.” Ruthenford replied uneasily. She suspected that looking up to speak to her was throwing him off slightly.

“And do you protect them from yourself?”

The templar looked for words. The Grand Cleric had to come to his rescue. “We talked about this, Lady Ashkaari. Any wrongdoings against your mages are the work of extremist elements.”

“Yes, we talked about this, and you have failed to give me any assurances that it wouldn’t happen again, maybe because you’re unable to. In fact, you don’t seem quite eager to identify and neutralize those extremists you speak of, maybe because you don’t wish to?”

Elthina was taken aback, probably because she had thought the matter resolved when Ashkaari hadn’t pressed the issue earlier. “I assure you any identified offender will be appropriately punished, but pursuing them is not in my purview.”

“Are you not leader of the local Chantry, commander of those, priests and templars, who have wronged my people? If you won’t pursue them, who will?” Ashkaari hadn’t raised her voice but she was relentless. “You would rather apologize for the actions of your subalterns rather than ensure they respect your will.”

“I won’t abuse my authority.”

“Your fear of doing so push you to a laxity that is just as detrimental.”

Elthina hesitated, looked around at those who were listening with bated breath, and deflected: “I won’t continue this discussion in this setting.”

“Those are your templars and priests, Grand Cleric. Tell them to leave.” When Elthina failed to do so, Ashkaari nodded. “That’s what I thought. This is useless. Just pretty words to smother a fire. Meravas.” She gestured to her escort, and they left without a look back.

As they passed by onlookers, Ashkaari noted some familiar bas: there was Hawke’s group from the previous day with the added presence of a red-haired human in armor. That last one seemed aggressive with a hand on her pommel, but the others looked at her calmly, even with a respectful nod from the elf.

It wasn’t enough to mollify her. They gladly left the Chantry and its agglomeration of templars, but Ashkaari walked so quickly that Hissrad asked: “Are you pissed?”

“I am highly disappointed. For those few minutes in her office, I believed she was worthy. I was expecting too much. Her mind is strong, but her will is weak. My mistake.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. You handled it well.”

“This gave us nothing.”

“More than you think. You gave them all a lot to ponder I would say.”

She slowed down and glanced at him. “How so?”

“You were talking, I was watching. I think you hit right where it hurts, for both the Grand Cleric and the Knight-Captain. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t mean anything will change. The religious ones are always stubborn. If you ever need to bother them though… just keep digging there.”

She shook her head. “I’ll let you handle the manipulating people part. As far as I am concerned, I’m done with bas for a while.”

*

That evening, the Arishok invited her to a game of chess, which was clearly a way to get her thoughts away from the bas. He hadn’t been surprised or disappointed by the way her talk with the Grand Cleric had gone. In fact, his exact words were: “You honored them by enlightening them. If they are unworthy, this is their failure.” It was reassuring to see that her people didn’t think less of her for it. On the contrary, her escort had narrated the event to many, and she had only received approving stares since. Still, the disappointment was still there, and the Arishok obviously noticed it.

Ashkaari fought bravely, but the Arishok had years of experience in strategy. She saw her demise come despite her best and desperate efforts. “Vashedan,” she grumbled when her Ariqun was finally cornered.

“You struggled admirably,” he complimented her.

She sighed and smoothed her hair. “You’re too kind. I’m afraid I’m not accustomed to such ruthless tactics as you used. A fault from having learned and practiced with only erudites, no doubt. You might find better resistance with Hissrad. He is more sneaky.”

“I will consider it, but you can learn by practicing with me.”

She smiled softly, her chin resting on the back of her hand. “True. It would be a pleasure, Arishok.” Her mind was pleasantly empty from anything bothering her before and she appreciated his company.

“Arishok!” A soldier suddenly interrupted them. “Hissrad has come back. He has been attacked, and he’s… unstable.”

They stood up simultaneously and stepped out into the night. It was late. The compound was quiet, with only a few torches lighting the way. The air was particularly humid and cold.

They hurried to the gate where several soldiers were surrounding loosely the Ben-hassrath. Hissrad was holding his great-axe tightly and, although he wasn’t really in battle stance, he was growling low. Everyone was staying at a respectful distance, Ashkaari further away even. She had raised a hand to her mouth in distress at the sight. His weapon was dirty, and there was blood on his shoulders and arms, even on his teeth that he was showing in warning.

“There aren’t any severe wounds that we can see, Arishok,” a soldier said, ruling out a blood frenzy.

“It’s asala-taar,” Ashkaari admitted. She hadn’t spoken loudly, but those two words had been heard all around, provoking a heavy silence. Asala-taar was dreaded by most fighters.

“Seheron?” The Arishok asked.

“Yes.”

“Is there fog outside?” he asked the door guard.

“Yes.”

“Being attacked in the fog is a trigger for those who fought the Fog Warriors. The attackers?”

“We followed the trail. Bandits. All dead, from what we could see.”

“Good.” The Arishok stepped forward slowly. “Hissrad. You have eliminated all your targets.”

Ashkaari watched, wide-eyed, as the leader of the Antaam took charge of the situation without hesitation. He waited, patiently, until the Ben-hassrath looked at him.

“Hissradkost. Maaras shokra.”

After a few seconds, Hissrad dropped his weapon and all aggressiveness disappeared with it. He bowed his head and breathed heavily. His lips moved in an inaudible murmur, but they all knew the words: "Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun."

“And the Qun welcomes you. Are you ready to give yourself to the priestess, Hissrad?”

“Yes.”

The Arishok nodded to Ashkaari who stepped forward timidly. “Come, Hissrad.” He followed obediently without looking at her. It was upsetting to see him so apathetic. It had never been this bad in Par Vollen, not even at his worse. Worry seized her. What if he hadn’t been ready to be sent back on the field? If he didn’t recover, he would have to go back to Qunandar. He would be considered unfit for combat and reassigned. She doubted he would be happy this way. Furthermore, no-one would be sent to replace him. Gatt would have to take his place. Considering that she was no therapist, this was entirely possible… but no, she couldn’t afford to think like this, she would help him as best as she could!

First, she knew that being in charge helped, but only once he was capable to do so. Before that, what had he told her? Ah, yes, once he was calm, touch helped him to stay grounded. “Hissrad, take my hand.” She held it out in his field of vision and waited patiently for him to obey. It had the added bonus of helping to steer him towards his room. At the door, when she looked back, she was pleased to notice he was looking at her and not at the ground anymore. She gave him a small smile. “You’re doing well. I’m going to help you wash and stay with you until you fall asleep. Alright?”

He gave a small grunt in reply. Unbothered, she did just as she had said, talking to him patiently while she did. He twitched when she cleaned and bandaged his wounds but didn’t react otherwise. Getting him to fall asleep was a long endeavor during which, anytime she stopped talking or singing, he growled and stared at her until she started again.

She left the room mentally exhausted. The Arishok was waiting for her outside.

“How long was he in Seheron?”

“Almost ten years.”

He frowned heavily. “That is unwise.”

“I know.” No need to remind her. “I helped him during his therapy. He was doing so well until now…”

“Triggers aren’t overcome so easily. He should be better by tomorrow morning. I will speak with him then, but he will still need your guidance.”

“Of course.”

*

After a too short night, Hissrad was the one who found her at lunch. He sat down beside her on the benches surrounding the fireplace and ate roasted deer. Once the friend she was talking to, the surgeon, politely left, he said: “I heard I scared you last night. Sorry about that.”

“I wasn’t scared. I was worried for you,” she clarified, observing him carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“Weary. Annoyed. I thought I was done with that bullshit.”

“Did you talk to the Arishok?”

“Yeah. He’s a good boss, a better listener than you’d thought and a fucking good chess player too. He wiped the floor with me. No thanks for volunteering me,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

“It helps to stop overthinking.”

“Yeah, it does,” he admitted. “I guess I need it.” He stayed quiet long enough to finish his meal before grumbling. “Fucking fog.”

She patted his forearm comfortingly, unsure of what she could say to help.

“Hey, yesterday, did you… I mean, it’s all blurry, but did I imagine you singing that nursery rhyme with the boat to me?”

She cleared her throat and looked away. “Well, you were very insistent I keep on singing until you were asleep and I am no bard, I exhausted my repertoire quite quickly.”

He chuckled. “I like that lullaby.”

She smiled softly. “Duly noted.”

He nudged her. “Thanks, kadan.”

“Anytime, kadan.”

“Yeah? What about now?” He grinned seductively at her.

She laughed and shook her head fondly. “Alright, but I don’t have the time to stay in bed all day.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just find you again this evening and keep you for the night.”

Teasing seemed to be a second nature for him, but he didn’t fool her for long. There was a desperation to the way he handled her, an intensity that spoke of nightmares waiting just behind the corner, kept away by passion (in playing chess, making love, training with the soldiers… everything he did that day was intensive and focused).

He left her breathless and pleasantly aching, pushing her to her limits, but always intent on giving her the best time he could.

“Kadan,” she breathed afterward, resting on his chest with her arms around him, “You will pull through.”

“You think?” he asked, impassive, with an arm behind his head, stubbornly staring at the ceiling.

“Yes. You’re strong, and the Arishok and I will help you.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “It might take time but you won’t be alone for it. The sea can be turbulent, but a lull will come. Just keep your head above the water. You will see the hands held out to you.”

“What if I pull you with me in the water?”

She stroked the base of his horns softly. “Do you think me so weak, kadan?”

He hesitated, met her stare and shook his head.

“Then, just hold on. Trust me to keep you from drifting, like I trust you to keep me from harm.”

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

The Arishok and Ashkaari were in agreement to keep Hissrad inside the compound until he felt better. The Ben-hassrath wasn’t really pleased with this decision, but he obeyed dutifully, focusing on meditation and training. He delegated some of his work to his subordinates, but they had to be debriefed and as such came by more often, when before they could spend weeks away to favor discretion.

Ashkaari hadn’t expected it to mean that Kata would appear randomly with a repetitive “I want to kill X or Y” tune. The first time, the erudite had looked at her, nonplussed, before realizing that the assassin was asking her for the permission to kill whoever she was speaking of. As the highest-ranking member of the priesthood around, Ashkaari was the decision-maker even for those matters. That had thrown her off more than anything else asked of her previously.

After the third time, Ashkaari had a systematic “no” prepared for those requests, and she had gotten used to ignoring the assassin’s sulk afterward.

That day wasn’t different. Ashkaari didn’t even bother to look up from the book she was trying to read. It was written in common, and some technical vocabulary was eluding her.

“Listen to her, kadan, please.”

Surprised, the erudite looked up. Hissrad and Gatt were flanking Kata this time. They looked all very serious and sullen. This probably wasn’t about a noble of tevinter origin blaspheming the Qun then. She put her book down and waited expectantly.

“He’s a Chantry clerk, using his status to lure children and teenagers, kidnap them and assault them before selling them to slavers,” Kata explained, arms crossed. When Ashkaari tried to speak, she added with disgust: “The bas won’t do anything. He has bought the silence of some, and the others will demand proofs that I can’t get. He’s hurting children! Come on, let me kill him!”

Ashkaari looked away, brushing her hair thoughtfully as she tried to collect her thoughts. What did the Qun dictate? That all children and individuals unable to defend themselves should be protected. Even if they’re not Qunari? Yes, because children can’t be held responsible for the error of their ways. She nodded slowly and slid her hands under her sash. “Very well. You’re authorized to eliminate him.” Before the assassin could disappear, she added: “You aren’t allowed to reveal yourself to bas in any way, Katari. This is justice for the defenseless, nothing more. Do not implicate the Qun in this.”

The assassin nodded and disappeared with Gatt on her heels. Hissrad stayed behind and waited until the door closed to lean over, hold Ashkaari with an arm under her breasts and kiss her temple, cheek and neck. He left without an explanation.

Ashkaari shrugged and went back to her reading. The Qun had been respected, and children will be spared.  Asit tal-eb.

The following morning, she regretted everything.

It was early. She had just finished eating her breakfast and was going to join her friends for the Greetings to the Sea when she had been called to the Arishok’s throne. There was already a gathering there. She noticed Hissrad with his head down, a sure sign that something was wrong.

When she stopped by the Arishok’s seat, Ashkaari had a perfect view of the problem. She sighed deeply. “What part of ‘don’t reveal yourself’ was unclear, Katari?”

The assassin tilted her chin up defiantly and stubbornly hold onto the hand of the young elven girl pressed against her side. “I had no choice! He was going to rape her if I didn’t stop him immediately! No one else saw me, and I covered my tracks. She’s an orphan, and she wants to join the Qun. She’s kabethari. No bas will know we intervened!”

The Arishok growled in warning. “Watch yourself, Katari.”

The assassin looked down in deference and stroke the hair of the girl clinging to her a little more tightly, frightened by the giants looking at her.

“You had your orders. Your interpretation of them is irrelevant. You disobeyed.” The Arishok stated.

Kata seemed to struggle with herself before she nodded and bowed her head. “I disobeyed, but I stand by my decision. I will accept my punishment.”

All eyes turned to Ashkaari, but she was focused on the poor elf peeking from behind long bushy and dirty brown hair. She was ten at most… no, considering she was obviously malnourished and elves were really tiny naturally, maybe twelve… Still so young.

The erudite sighed. “You disobeyed your orders, but you followed the Qun by protecting those who are defenseless, as such you’ll be punished for disobedience and not treason. Yet, despite what you may think, you do the child no favor. We’re not in any position to give her the care she deserves, and her will to join the Qun is as fickle as the affection of a nug delivered from a snare.”

“It’s still better than living alone in the streets! ... Ashkaari,” she added hastily after a glance at the Arishok’s glower.

“It’s planting the seeds of resentment along those of devotion. By saving her, you took responsibility for her well-being, are you prepared for it?”

“I will do what’s necessary.”

“Meravas.” Ashkaari looked around to the brothers and sisters gathered and raised her voice slightly to be heard from all: “The imekari is kabethari.” Nods and grunts of approval acknowledged the addition of a new member to their group. For the child’s benefit, Ashkaari added more quietly and in common: “The child may stay with us but you’re, from now on and until our situation allows otherwise, responsible of her needs. As such, you will provide her with clothes to her size and warm enough to protect her, starting now: a dress, two tunics, two pants, a pair of shoes, a coat and underwear, as well as a blanket and a comb. That should do for now.” She went down the stairs and stopped in front of the child. “I’ll take care of her for everything else. Go now and don’t return until you may honor her with the proof of your dedication.”

Relieved, Katari bowed her head. “Yes, Ashkaari.” She crouched to be at the child’s level and explained: “Ashkaari is wise and kind. You don’t have to be scared, she’ll take care of you. I’ll be back very soon with everything you need.”

“B-but, I don’t need all that,” the girl murmured, wide-eyed.  

“You do, child,” Ashkaari assured. “If you’re to stay with us then you will want for nothing. Katari will see to it. While she’s away, I’ll ensure you’re fed and bathed. You do not need to worry. Every child is provided for and protected under the Qun.”

The elf looked up and up and up to Ashkaari’s face, and she gaped a little before nodding slowly. “Can I really stay with you? here?” While she was distracted, Katari was muttering to herself, trying to measure her with the length of her own hand.

“Yes, child, you will stay here. You won’t go outside, it’s not safe.”

“But… what will I have to do? ... I know how to clean!” The little girl explained eagerly.

“You do not have to clean, not anything else than what belongs to you and should be maintained. Your duty as a child is to learn. I will teach you the Qun, our philosophy, and our language, qunlat, as well as mathematics, history, the common tongue and how to write it if you do not know. That’s to begin with.”

“Really?!”

“Yes.”

“But I’m no lady.”

“There is no nobility under the Qun. You’re a child, equal to all others, with the right and duty to learn like all others.”

“Really?”

Ashkaari tutted and poked the little girl on the nose. “There is no need to repeat that, little one. I won’t lie to you. What I say is what I mean.”

The child blinked then sniffed. “You smell good.”

“I wish I could say the same of you…” Ashkaari looked up when the human assassin stood up to leave. “One last thing, Katari. When you’re done with your duty to the child, you will report to Hissrad for your punishment.”

“Yes, Ashkaari.”

The leader of the Ben-hassrath, who had walked down to listen, nodded his agreement. He gave Katari a stern look, but his face softened when the Imekari looked at him curiously.

“Now, let’s get you a bath, child,” Ashkaari announced. A light growl came from far down. The child patted her tummy. “Or maybe breakfast before that bath…”

*

Taking care of a child was time-consuming. Fortunately, Imekari was relatively autonomous. She was always following Ashkaari around, but when her minder had work to do, she could sit quietly and play with the doll that the tailor helped her craft. She was easy to take care of, which was a relief. Every Qunari adopted her without fuss and took her curiosity in stride, helping her with qunlat and watching over her when she attempted to help. She was without a doubt a craftswoman in the making.

Hissrad, since he had some free time, helped her with reading and writing. It was a good distraction for him, but it wasn’t enough. He tried to hide it, but he was still anxious. He asked for her company nearly daily. When he didn’t, she went to him knowing he was just trying to restrain himself. It wasn’t ideal: Imekari was sleeping in her room now, which meant they had to go to his quarters which were those of the Ben-hassrath, thankfully most often absent.

A solution appeared thanks to unexpected people.

Hawke and her friends had come, bearer of bad news once again. One of the scouts, Ashaad, had been killed on the coast by mercenaries. Still one more death, but at least this one was avenged. After the Arishok expressed his satisfaction at Hawke’s actions and honesty, they nodded respectfully and took their leave.

Ashkaari’s somber thoughts came to a halt when she caught sight of the loyal companion following Hawke. She quickly walked down the stairs to catch up to the bas, calling her back.

Hawke turned around curiously, imitated by Fenris, but the two others, the dwarf and the red-haired warrior, tightened their grip on their weapons.

“Your dog, it’s a mabari, isn’t it?” Ashkaari asked, remembering the tales of the clever dogs that had defected to the Fereldans when Tevinter magisters invaded their land (anything showing distaste for Tevinter was a favorite of the Qunari).

“Yes, he is. He’s called Fang. ” The dog barked in approval, wagging his tail proudly.

“I heard that mabari are war hounds but also great companions, very sociable.”

“They are, yes.” Hawke confirmed patiently, clearly wondering what this was about.

“Would you consider allowing him to play with some of our warriors?”

“Uh…” Hawke blinked and glanced at Fenris.

“In Par Vollen, dogs are great companions for the traumatized. It’s a form of therapy. But we have no dogs here.” Ashkaari explained.

“Therapy?” Varric repeated, sceptical.

“When you are anxious, afraid or angry, after playing with... Fang, don’t you feel better?”

“I… do, yeah. Never thought about it as therapy, I guess.” Hawke admitted, looking down at Fang with a tilt of her head. “So… some of your warriors need company, that’s what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“Well… It’s fine, I guess. What do you think, buddy? Would you like to play with the big horned warriors?” Fang barked his approval and jumped on his paws, apparently eager. Hawked laughed and shrugged.  “Fine with me, then. Just make sure he’s not hurt.”

“Of course.”

“I could stay,” Fenris offered suddenly. “You have to go, but I’m not busy, I can bring him back to your house afterward.”  

Hawke agreed, apparently reassured by the idea. They left the compound, and Ashkaari gestured for the dog and the elf to follow her.

Like she expected, Hissrad was training, although there was no fighting involved but some heavy lifting of flour sacks (two on each shoulder). Ashkaari watched him critically, unmoved by his seductive smirk. “Does the cook know you’re playing with the food?”

“Oh, come on kadan, stop messing with me, I’m not playing,” he whined.

She hid her own smirk while turning to point at Fang. “The Hawke bas agreed to lend you her mabari. Take good care of it… him.”

Hissrad shook his shoulders, dropping the sacks in a soldier’s waiting arms and immediately went to crouch in front of Fang. “You got me a dog,” he breathed in slight awe.

“His name is Fang,” Fenris offered, taking a step forward. The mabari barked when he heard his name and wagged his tail happily when he was petted in return. Ashkaari, whose love for drooling beasts was limited, watched with the satisfaction of a job well done.

“Fang. What a great name.” Hissrad approved, immediately getting licked for the compliment. “Yeah, that’s a good dog. You prefer when I talk in common, right? That’s fine. I can do that. Although it’s not necessary for everyone apparently,"  he noted while looking up at Fenris.

“My understanding of qunlat is limited,” the elf admitted. “I learned in Seheron.”

“You’re an escaped slave, aren’t you? Good for you. Although that’s strange, you’re no Viddathari. How did you learn?”

“The Fog Warriors taught me.”

Ashkaari straightened suddenly, but Hissrad snorted and didn’t even stand up. “Easy, kadan, I’m not going to go on a rampage just at their name.”

“Of course. My apologies. I was surprised.” She glanced at Fenris who was curious about her reaction. She was more likely to say or do something she shouldn’t have than to help. “I’m going to let you talk and train peacefully. Hissrad, when you’re done with the dog, Fenris will accompany him back.”

“Got it. Thanks, kadan.”

She nodded and left to go back to her duties, hoping that the dog’s help wouldn’t be negated by anything else.

When she saw Hissrad again in the evening, he looked more relaxed, and his lovemaking, when he insisted to thank her, was more tender and less impetuous. Apparently, he had gotten along quite well with Fenris and they had planned to meet again as long as Hawke would agree to let Fang join them.

This was a success, she concluded, quite pleased.

A week later, Hissrad returned to his duties outside of the compound, dragging Katari with him. The assassin was a little too determined to teach the Imekari where and how to hit a man to hurt him the most (Ashkaari disapproved: defense had to be taught before attack! and yes, proper order was important!).

*

Months passed without any more disasters.

Ashkaari’s duties never ceased to pile up. As time passed, more and more kabethari came to the compound, asking about the Qun and their ways. She was the only one qualified to answer their questions and soon had to dedicate specific time slots to lessons about the Qun. For those occasions, Imekari was joined by teenagers and adults, mostly elves but some humans of the working class too.

Fenris sometimes joined them. As such, it was no surprise when he came, even accompanied by Hawke and Varric, while she was explaining: “The Qun teaches us that all living beings have their place in the world. Each creature has its own purpose and should be respected for its role. As such, every sentient being is fundamentally of equal importance and only our own personal limitations can design our worth. That’s why Qunari do not have prejudices based on race. It does not mean however that elves, humans and dwarves are held to the same standards as I or my brothers are, simply because we do not have the same physical abilities and qualities. You are capable of different feats than we are, but it does not make you less than we are. ”

An elf raised his hand. Ashkaari allowed him to speak. “Is it only relevant to physical stuff, then? Because… I mean… I heard that Qunari didn’t...  never had…”

“Speak up, kabethari. No questions are unwelcome,” she encouraged him patiently.

“I… I heard that Qunari never married or had, you know, sex, unless it was to make babies.”

“That is not entirely true,” Ashkaari replied, unbothered by her public’s embarrassment. “Yes, Qunari do not marry. Actually, this word doesn’t translate in Qunlat. Qunari do not have romance as most of you imagine it. We have friendships and sometimes friends can have sexual intercourse together, but romance isn’t the point.” She blinked slowly, a little surprised to find her audience hanging to her every word. At the back, she could see Varric sitting with paper and pencil, his friends having respectfully sat down to listen. It was always a little baffling to see how bas took romance so seriously. “We’re however a very sensual species. Sex is talked about and happens with less taboo than in most of your societies. The rules on those matters are different from what you encountered before and some, but not all of them, will apply to Viddathari. As I said, marriage doesn’t exist under the Qun and romances aren’t recognized, but they aren’t forbidden unless it becomes detrimental to your purpose...”

“So... Mh, sorry…” A young woman blushed when she interrupted and quickly raised her hand to fix her mistake. Considering they were all young pupils, Ashkaari stayed patient and let her speak. “Sorry, again. So, about sex, will we have to make babies, no matter what we want?”

“No,” Ashkaari replied firmly. “Although reproduction is one of the duties expected under the Qun, you’re allowed to refuse. However, any conception outside of the planned ones is forbidden.”

“How can you forbid it? I mean, you just said that sex is allowed outside of the making babies business, right? And pregnancies kind of happen whether or not we want it, at least for us, you know…”

Ashkaari looked up and to the side, meeting the stare of her bodyguard. He tilted his head in silent sympathy. Although his Common wasn’t the best, he had determined early on that the kabethari’s questions were primitive by qunari standards. He called them all children when they weren’t around. Ashkaari had mostly disapproved, until now. Sexual education was severely lacking for bas, it was disquieting. “Qunari medicine is much more advanced than what you might know. We know how to avoid unplanned pregnancy,” she chose to explain simply. They didn’t need details during a simple introduction to the Qun.

She dismissed her students soon after. A few of them lingered to ask for clarifications, including a young human named Seamus, one of her most eager and curious students for whom she foresaw great potential as an erudite. Although he was shy, his question was specific: “What’s the Qun’s stance on homosexuality?”

“Every being is free of interacting with another regardless of his sex.”  

“So… you don’t care?”

“We don’t,” she confirmed. “Each Qunari has their own preferences but, from what I understand, bisexuality is much more common under the Qun than outside.”

A little wide-eyed, Seamus nodded slowly and thanked her before leaving.

After him, only Hawke’s group was left. The dwarf immediately waved his notebook around. “So, just to clarify. Qunari don’t love?”

Ashkaari tilted her head and replied patiently: “I love my country, my friends, my Tamassran, my passions, books, oranges, the sea and…”

“Alright, alright. You got me. Let me specify: Qunari don’t do romantic love.”

“Most Qunari don’t,” she confirmed.

“Most?” Hawke repeated curiously.

“Some do.” Ashkaari replied. When Varric snorted and Hawke shook her head, she added: “As humans, elves and dwarves have many different sexual preferences, so do Qunari. There is diversity under the Qun as there is everywhere.”

“Yeah, except you don’t want it to show. What happens to those who want romance?” Varric asked.

“They may pursue their interests as long as it isn’t detrimental to their purpose.”

“What if it is? They end up on the wounded coast?”

“I don’t know, Master dwarf. You, tell me. Is this what romantic love looks like? Frenzied Tal-Vashoth?” she asked, truly curious. That didn’t seem quite as enticing as bas made it seemed like.

Varric winced, having realized what he had implied. “You know what I mean: the Qunari who love, do they leave the Qun?”

“Some do, yes, certainly. There are as many reasons, as many stories, as there are Tal-Vashoth. I do not pretend to understand them.”

“But some people don’t leave. Qunari can love and follow the Qun,” Fenris added, focused on the other side of the coin.

“It isn’t incompatible. What conflicts with the Qun is the kind of selfish codependent love your romantic books seem so fond of. Love, as bas seem to depict it, is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. That is not possible under the Qun. Our duties must be the priority.”

A small silence followed her explanation before Hawke admitted with a frown: “You know what, I think that made sense in a very unemotional way.”

“Of course it does. The Qun is reason.”

“Yeah, well, not always always but sometimes, I guess… even if it’s still weird, it’s logical weird.”

“Your way of speaking is weird.”

“Yeah, I guess, but the way you always talk, proper like, would be too exhausting for me.”

“Trying to understand you exhausts me.”

“It does? Sorry about that.” Hawke rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment. “I picked up bad habits in Lowtown.”

“You will have to watch your mouth now that you’re part of the top of the crop, Hawke,” Varric teased.

They left after that.

When Hissrad came back that evening, Ashkaari relayed the end of the conversation to him, hoping he could explain what it meant.

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that. Hawke and the dwarf, Varric Tethras, they went in the Deep Roads, that’s why we didn’t see them for a while. They came back with enough treasures to get the Hawke family in Hightown. Apparently, they were former nobility or something. The other Hawke daughter you told me about, though? Turns out she was a mage in hiding. She was found and sent to the Circle,” he explained in between yawns with an arm across his face.

“I see.” She hummed and tried to recall what she had seen of the younger Hawke, but in the end, she was no Arvaarad and had no idea if there had been signs of magic. “Thank you for this explanation, kadan.”

“Any time, kadan. Good night. Don’t let the imekari smother you in your sleep with her spidery arms.”

She huffed and walked to the door. “Once, Hissrad. It happened once!”

“Once is all she needs!”

Chapter Text

Their mission wasn’t going well. It had been months since the Ben-Hassrath found anything new, and it wasn’t improving morale. Ashkaari was doing her best to ease tensions, but she was getting tired of the status quo just as much as the warriors; she was simply better at dealing with them in a peaceful way. Hissrad and the Arishok’s support and unshakable determination also helped her to stay positive.

As such, it was a little more distressing than it should have been to find them both fighting in the Circle of Thunder, used to settle disagreements and conflicts with hand-to-hand fights. She stopped to watch them wrestle when she recognized them but, as soon as Hissrad took a fist to the jaw and the Arishok a kick to the stomach, she winced and hurried on her way.

Great, now the two men she was relying on had a tiff. This was getting better and better.

It annoyed her more than it should have. When the cook joyously informed her afterward that the Arishok had won the fight, she replied with a frosty “good for him” that earned her a startled glance. It was unusual enough that everyone learned about it by nightfall (let’s hope that the bas never learned there was no-one better at gossip than bored Qunari, their reputation would suffer).  

Ashkaari was helping Imekari to prepare for bed when the Arishok asked for her. She went to find him in his office, where he only was during the evening or private meetings. She was surprised to find him sitting at a table with Hissrad, playing chess amiably. Their weapons were leaning against the wall, and the Arishok had removed his pauldrons.

“Ashkaari. I’ve been told you were unusually tense. Your mood unsettles the troops,” the Arishok told her blandly when she walked in.

For a few seconds of disbelief, Ashkaari was tempted to throw something at him. She was the one unsettling the troops? The nerve of him! It was short-lived, however, faced with their relaxed attitude towards each other.

It looked like she was the one who had blown things out of proportion. The Circle of Thunder was used to settle problems after all, and once fighters stepped out of it they were supposed to leave things in the past. Both men had made good use of it and, whatever disagreement they had had, it wasn’t affecting their relationship.

She sighed and crossed her arms. “I might have let myself wander. I apologize. It will be resolved by tomorrow morning,” she assured curtly.

“Yes, it will be,” he agreed.

Taking it for a dismissal, she was about to leave, ignoring Hissrad’s shrewd stare, when the Arishok finally looked at her. His pale grey eyes were usually darkened by his brows but, with the torchlight, they were currently shining with a strange intensity. She had never felt so cowed by him, and he was a very intimidating man. With barely a move of his fingers, he urged her to come to him without breaking their gaze. She found herself leaning against his thigh without a conscious thought.

“You were right,” he said to Hissrad as he pulled her on his lap, her back to his chest.

It gave her the perfect point of view to see Hissrad smirk. “People are my specialty.”

Extremely confused, Ashkaari managed a “Whatー?” before the Arishok pushed back her forehead to rest her head against his shoulder. She looked up at him, her nose brushing his jaw.

“You’re wearing yourself out, Ashkaari. I know the signs for warriors, but your strain is of a different kind. Hissrad warned me your mind is overworked. Rest while we finish this game. We will give you release later.”

“Oh,” she breathed in surprise before blushing and looking away (the ceiling was as good a sight as any).

Hissrad chuckled. “She’s not embarrassed by the sex, Arishok,” he explained after a glance at his face. “She’s embarrassed that her fatigue was noticed.”

“I see.”

“Stop talking about me while I’m right here,” she grumbled.

With a finger under her chin, the Arishok tilted her head towards him and took possession of her lips in a long, patient and demanding kiss. When he released her, she was breathless. “Your body is here, but your mind should rest.” His hand was spread over her stomach, holding her without pressing, just a gentle reminder that she could let go and trust him to take charge.

She complied. Eyes closed, limbs limp and nose brushing the Arishok’s neck, she banished any thought and cleared her mind.

The silence was only broken by the pieces moved on the board and the players' peaceful breaths. Each time the Arishok leaned forward to play, he adjusted his hold on her, caressing her bare stomach with his thumb in a soothing motion.

This was the most peaceful moment she had in weeks. She was extremely grateful for it. Time passed by without her notice.

When the Arishok moved her across his lap and shifted to get a better grip, she stirred and hummed questioningly.

“Peace,” he murmured, before lifting her easily in a bridal carry as he stood.

Ashkaari moved her arms around his neck for both their comfort and snuggled closer to his neck. He was warm and safe.

A moment later, the Arishok was sitting back down, on something softer this time. “We’ll handle you now, kadan. I’ll undress you while Hissrad put the chessboard away.”

She was in a haze and hummed as he bent down to remove her boots, wiggling her toes when they were freed. “Who won?”

“I did. Despite his efforts, Hissrad was distracted.”

“Distracted?”

“By you,” he clarified, nuzzling her temple while untying her top.

“I was distracting?”

“Very,” Hissrad rumbled as he stepped into the bedroom. “You submit so beautifully.” He ran a hand through her hair and grabbed the back of her head gently but firmly to get a kiss.

Ashkaari went from a pair of arms to the other as the men undressed, but she was never deprived of their touch. They were a tangle of naked limbs in short time and a concert of heavy breaths soon after.

*

Exhausted, they had all fallen asleep in an organized pile for the sake of their horns: Hissrad on his back at the bottom, Ashkaari curled up against him on her side, and the Arishok mostly on his stomach with limbs around her.

An hour before dawn, a soldier who respectfully kept his head down woke them.

“What is it?” The Arishok growled, his voice vibrating against Ashkaari’s back.

“The saar-qamek’s formula has been stolen.”

They were all immediately perfectly awake, but the Arishok was the first to jump out of bed, unbothered by his nudity. “Was the thief seen?”

“A small shape jumping on the roofs, nothing more. The guards were killed, their throat slit from behind.”

Hissrad gently moved Ashkaari away and went to dress up too. The erudite watched them with a frown but didn’t try to follow. She would be pretty much useless with the matter. Still, she would be unable to go back to sleep. Once alone, she took her time to wash and dress despite the darkness.

The calm hadn’t lasted long, and the night’s benefits would be short-lived but brushing against the tender marks on her skin made her smile. She had a really good night and, as she realized going down the stairs, the whole compound would be aware of it soon. It mattered little, however. They had a thief to catch and, before that, the bodies of their kin to dispose of. Was there going to be a month without death in this bloody city? Oh, how she longed to leave it.

Late in the morning, Ashkaari listened as the Arishok explained the situation to Hawke and her friends. They were their best chance to avoid an accident and catch the thief. Although Hissrad could do it, the city ground wouldn’t be in his favor while this Hawke bas seemed to thrive in it. Furthermore, the Arishok wasn’t eager to use their own people to resolve what he considered a bas problem. They had already lost too many (on that, they agreed).

As it is, they had to call back Gatt and Katari: they weren’t immune to the saar-qamek like Grey Qunari. They couldn’t risk them if the worst came to pass. As such, this theft was more of an inconvenience than the Arishok wanted to admit to the bas.

There was also the fact that someone had entered the compound, killed some experienced soldiers and stolen from them (again). That it wasn’t gaatlok was a small comfort.

Training during the following days was harsher than ever.

The conclusion of this theft was as dramatic as Ashkaari had feared.

It was early in the morning when Hawke came to report her success in identifying the thief. By then, they already had a good idea of what had happened the previous night. Hissrad had given them a grim report. Many in Kirkwall were pointing fingers at them for the poisoning of a whole street.

Neither the Arishok or Ashkaari were in a good mood at the news.

Ashkaari was sitting in the shadows against a wall, too weary to care for appearances. Her counsel wouldn’t be needed, and it was a good position to observe the Arishok. She realized soon enough in the discussion that he was blaming himself for this mess. Because he was wrong about the thief, thinking he was driven by mercantilism, a fanatic had access to a dangerous weapon that he turned against them indirectly, by putting the blame on them.

What followed was therefore not unexpected. He was angry, frustrated and he missed Par Vollen so much… like all of them. He so rarely showed his feelings but they had simmered to the surface. 

“A simple act of greed has bound me. We are all denied Par Vollen until we recover what was lost under my command! That is why this elf and her shadows are unimportant. That is why I do not simply walk from this pustule of a city!” The Arishok exclaimed, standing and stepping forward in his anger. “Fixing your mess is not the demand of the Qun! And you should all be grateful!”

His outburst surprised the bas but Ashkaari, like most Qunari around, bowed her head in empathy.

“Can I help?” Hawke asked, far from being cowed. “To find what was stolen from you? Maybe I can help, so you can leave and everyone would be at peace again.”

The Arishok having overcome his anger, he sat back down and replied curtly: “No. Thank you, human, for your service. Leave.”

Ashkaari had risen quickly at the daring proposition, and she stepped forward to add: “We appreciate your offer, Serah Hawke, but the Qun demands we deal with it.”

“Alright,” the woman relented, appeased by the explanation. “If you ever change your mind, you know how to find me.”

The erudite watched in silence as the bas left. She felt the Arishok came to her, his armor brushing her back as he growled: “Does she mock us?”

“She doesn’t. You know what Hissrad said. The pirate thief didn’t tell her anything about the Tome of Koslun or why she avoids us.”

He snarled and clenched his fists.

“I will go to speak to the Viscount myself,” she offered, grounding him with a hand against his chest. “Soon, the Tome of Koslun will be ours and we will go home. In the meantime, I will make sure the bas won’t hinder us.”

“Very well,” he grumbled, slowly calming down.

*

If this didn’t end up in war, it would be a miracle.

The day had started well: Ashkaari had led the delegation sent to the Viscount, and their talk had been civil, promising. Dumar had been glad to hear they would leave as soon as they could without causing troubles or trying to indoctrinate Kirkwall’s inhabitants (except for those seeking them, Ashkaari insisted, they wouldn’t reject kabethari looking for guidance), and he had promised them to do his best to placate his people in the meantime.

She should have known better than to believe this could be so simple.

With her hands bound before her, Ashkaari watched as her bodyguards were tied to a wall by a Templar and his fanatics followers. She was terrified, but none of those bas would see it. They called them hearts of stone, but they were blind. Her kin though, they could see easily through her, just as she could see their rage at being helpless and unable to perform their duty: protecting her.

For fanatic bas, they had been smart, by threatening her first with a knife under her throat while the Karataam had their swords tied into their sheaths, as demanded by the Seneschal. There were little doubts that they had outside help: too many had looked the other way as they passed by.

This place was stinking so badly, and her stomach was in so many knots that she might throw up soon.

Nothing pleasant would come from this, but the idea that it would result in so many deaths after her own suffering’s end didn’t help her to find comfort in their idiom: "ataash varin kata". She doubted such a death would bring her any glory. Martyrdom wasn’t her personal ambition.

Three of her guards were tied to a pillar when she met the Karasten’s eyes. He looked down at her sash. She nodded imperceptibly. The bas’ mistake was to consider her defenseless because she wasn’t visibly armed. They hadn’t thought of checking her for hidden weapons. She still had her knife.

“Let’s tie this one apart from the others,” the man holding her suggested, pulling her harshly. “Do you see how she’s dressed? No better than a whore! We could have fun wi–”

The Karasten roared and lunged on their abductors, startling them all. The stinking lecher who was holding Ashkaari loosened his grip. She immediately used the opportunity to elbow him in the throat, effectively choking him. She retrieved her knife and grabbed it in her bound hands to cut her way out, slashing left and right.

Running away left a bad taste in her mouth (increased by the pollution around here), but she had no other choice. The few precious seconds of head-start she got allowed her to reach a door before anyone could stop her. However, as she stepped through, an intense pain in her back left her breathless. She stumbled outside, to a place just as stinky, dark and messy.

Instinctively, she chose to hide rather than flee in an unfamiliar and hostile maze. As soon as she found an appropriate place, she stopped and cut the ropes. She was tall and used it to her advantage, to climb where no bas would think to look, despite the pain and panic. The dirt covered her skin as she lied down on her stomach. She hissed and held back a scream each time she moved in a way that put a strain on her injury; but she was hidden when her pursuers passed by, just under her eyes.

When they were far enough, she sighed in relief, eyes watering and limbs shaking. Slowly, she felt around her back. Without surprise, she found an arrow sticking out of her, just under her ribs. Without a good enough grip, she didn’t dare break it. She brought back her bloody fingers to her eyes and gritted her teeth to keep herself from crying.

Leaving Par Vollen to lead a small compound in bas lands had been hard enough, but this? This was as far out of her comfort zone as it could get. She had no ideas what to do. She couldn’t fight, couldn’t flee, couldn’t move or make a noise. Her only option was to wait for help. The Arishok would demand that they be found. It was his duty to ensure her protection. She had to have faith in him.

A scream of pain came from the room she just left, then another. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands against her ears. “Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun,” she recited in thought. Prayers were all that she had.

She’ll have faith.

Chapter Text

Hissrad found the compound buzzing. It was subtle: Qunari murmuring and staring with disappointment when he came through the gates, the tailor glancing at him nervously as she instructed Imakeri in sewing a new doll, the Saarebas’ chains clinking in their unrest… There was only one person they could all be worried about. Hissrad immediately went to the Arishok and found him pacing in front of his seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Ashkaari and the Karataam are late.”

“Vashedan,” Hissrad swore under his breath. A Qunari wasn’t late, Ashkaari even less so.

Before he could offer to go look for them, a gesture relayed by the guards announced the arrival of a visitor. Hissrad stepped aside, arms crossed to channel his impatience, while the Arishok sat down, glowering.

“What do you want, Hawke? I have no interest in adding to my distractions.”

“A courtesy, Arishok. Your delegate and her guards are missing.”

The Qunaris tensed and straightened, the news rippling through in hushed tones. Hissrad clenched his fists and stared at the Arishok as he appeared outwardly unbothered. His voice, when he spoke after a few seconds, was colder than ice: “Anyone else, and those words would have been their last.” He stared at the human, unwavering. “You are handling this? Not your buffoon of a Viscount?”

“I am.”

The Arishok stood and turned to Hissrad, calling him forward. “Hissrad and two of my soldiers will accompany you.”

Hawke glanced at the spy and bit her bottom lip. “They’re not really inconspicuous.”

“Know this, Hawke: the provocations we have suffered have worked,” the Arishok growled. “If this is not resolved, I can fulfill my duty to the Qun with far less annoyance by sifting through rubble.”

“Okaaay. They can come with us,” Hawke quickly conceded, raising her hands in surrender.

“Warn me as soon as my people are found.”

They left the compound in a heavy silence. From the corner of his eyes, Hissrad saw the tailor escorting a crying Imekari away. He clenched his fists harder and breathed deeply. He had to keep his head clear to bring Ashkaari back.

“From what we have gathered, the delegation was spirited away by fanatics led by a templar, with the cooperation of a corrupted city guard,” Hawke explained. “We have a tip on where they might keep them in Darktown.”

“Lead the way,” he replied, not in the mood for banter. The two soldiers on his heels dissuaded everyone from chitchat… or almost everyone.

“So, Hissrad. You look really pissed. Which, you know, is weird considering I was finally getting used to a Qunari joking and laughing,” Varric said, glancing at him. They were relatively familiar with each other considering how often they both frequented The Hanged Man. If Hissrad had to be honest, he liked him. The dwarf had good stories. “So, if we find your people in… less than perfect conditions. How bad would it be?”

Hissrad looked down at the storyteller before glancing at the others: Fenris, the captain of the guard and the Chantry brother. They were waiting for his answer with bated breath. Even Hawke, who was walking ahead, was tense. “What would happen if we had kidnapped and threatened your Grand Cleric?”

“War,” Sebastian replied, echoed by Aveline and Hawke immediately after.

“You’ve got your answer,” he rumbled, not in the mood for chitchat. He was itching for a good fight: pummeling a few heads, cutting a few members, that’s what he needed, and if they had touched Ashkaari he would slice those fanatics really thin.

“Well… shit,” Varric breathed.

“So, that erudite of yours, Ashkaari… She’s really your equivalent of a Grand Cleric?” Sebastian asked.

“As close as we have around here,” Hissrad admitted with a shrug. “More important for you, though: she’s the only one able and willing to stop the Arishok from razing this place to the ground.”

“Alriiight. Let’s walk a little faster, shall we?” Hawke offered, lengthening her stride.

The dwarf had to jog to follow, but he never complained.

Finding the fanatics was easy. Killing them was easy (and satisfying… for a short while). All the rest was not. Hissrad sent the two soldiers back to the Arishok to inform him of their findings, while Hawke sent Sebastian and Varric to warn the Viscount.

Hissrad slowly walked around the bodies, looking for answers.

“Your delegate is not among them,” Aveline noted, staring at the four Qunari they had been unable to save.

“Did she manage to flee? Or did they lock her away?” Hawke added, looking in every nook she could find.

“It would be a good time for you to pray if you’re a believer,” Hissrad suggested as he walked away from the bodies of his kin. “If she’s dead and her body defiled in a similar way to the Karataam, Kirkwall is already ashes.”  That the soldiers had been tortured was one thing, but if Ashkaari had been too, it was much worse. As an erudite, her body was the receptacle of her soul. If the body was damaged before her death then the soul would be too. It was a profanation that the Arishok wouldn’t tolerate, that no Qunari would tolerate.

This shouldn’t have happened: that’s why anyone else but soldiers and Ben-hassraths stayed away from bas. Non-combatants were supposed to be safe in Par Vollen or at least behind fortified walls. If they found Ashkaari alive, the Arishok would probably never let her out of his sight ever again. To be honest, Hissrad would agree.

Despite the blood on his blade, he still felt the need to pound something. His skin craved the comforting touch of Ashkaari. He had to resort to his Ben-hassrath training and years of compartmentalization to stay calm enough to focus. For all the good it did him: there was nothing here. Darktown was so dark, smelly and dirty that looking for a clue was harder than navigating the fog… all right, maybe not harder but close.

By the time that the Viscount and the Arishok had arrived, Ashkaari was still nowhere to be found. Hawke had sent Fenris to fetch Fang, hoping the dog could find her scent despite the ambient stench.

After a glance at the Karataam’s bodies, the Arishok spat in disgust. “How do you explain the condition of their bodies?”

The Viscount glanced nervously at Hawke, who promptly replied: “A fanatic used them to incite others of his kind.”

The Arishok growled but nodded and gestured for his men to take the weapons of the fallen without another word.

If Hissrad wasn’t worried and angry, he’d have found the bas’ nervous faces quite funny. As it was, he might have to ask a comrade to hit him with a stick later, if this itch didn’t disappear. He had discovered it helped hold back the madness and all the soul-sickness’ anxiety. It grounded him as much as sex if not more. If he hadn’t Ashkaari, he’d need to be hit often.

“I’ve seen every vice and weakness of your kind, and how few of you take responsibility. Lies are a tool of the weak.” The Arishok was explaining to the baffled bas.

With perfect timing, Fenris and Fang walked in. The dog was staying close to the elf, his muzzle as high as he could get it. Darktown’s air didn’t seem to agree well with him.

“Fang, my boy, come here,” Hawke called, crouching to grab his head in her hands. “I have a very important task for you. Do you remember Ashkaari? The tall grey lady who wanted you to play with a warrior?” Fang barked and wagged his tail happily. He glanced at Hissrad, probably hoping they could play again. Hawke kept him focused on her. “She disappeared. It’s very important we found her. Can you find her scent?”

There was something a little surreal in the following scene: all eyes on a dog, everyone waiting with bated breath for Fang’s verdict as he sniffed around the Qunari corpses.

When he barked and bolted out, the ambient stillness was suddenly broken, and they scrambled to follow as if a paralyzing spell had been lifted from them.

***

Ashkaari was feeling faint; from pain, blood loss or shock, she didn’t know, but it was getting bad enough that now she was hearing things. She had flinched several times because of small noises, false alerts and false hopes. Time seemed so slow that she couldn’t say since how long she was hiding.

Some time ago, she was pretty sure she heard shouts and battle sounds coming from the fanatics’ refuge, but it had quieted down and nothing since. Maybe one of her kin had freed himself and died fighting? She hoped it was so. Such a death would be worthy of them.

Right now, she was hearing a dog’s barks. What a strange idea: a dog in those sewers! Those animals were smarter than bas and would have avoided this place and its poisonous fumes.

She might be dozing and starting to dream… but those annoying noises definitely were becoming louder and closer.

“She’s here? Where, Fang?”

Ashkaari startled. She wasn’t dreaming, a bas was here! She had to stay hidden!

Scratch noises came from below with more barks. Urgh. Dogs. Hissrad forgave her, but those blasted animals were…

“Kadan?!”

She raised her head suddenly, knocking her horns against the ceiling of her hideout. “Hissrad?” She saw the tip of his horns first before he went on tiptoe and became eye-level with her.

“The Qun be praised, kadan. You gave us a fright.”

There were exclamations behind him of bas and qunari alike: “It’s her! She’s here! She’s alive! ”

Ashkaari ignored them, offering her hand to Hissrad and forgetting it was covered in blood.

“Shit, kadan. Are you hurt?”

“Oh, yes. An arrow in the back,” she explained, detached. “It hurts, and I’m woozy.”

A few seconds after that admission, two other Qunari appeared to help carry her out of her hideout. Despite their carefulness, it hurt terribly. She bit her bottom lip to stop a scream. When they tried to keep her upright, she blacked out. Hissrad had just enough time to anticipate her fall.

Ashkaari woke up on a makeshift stretcher with a blanket over her back. The growling voice of the Arishok wasn’t a very good lullaby.

“Arishokost,” she grumbled, turning her head towards him.

The growls stopped. Heavy steps came closer. “Peace? There is no peace. I should raze this city to the ground for this new offense. How many Qunari will fall to their chaos?”

She closed her eyes and sighed at this confirmation that the Karataam hadn’t survived. She clenched her fist before forcing herself to relax, reciting the verses which had kept her sane: “Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Their deaths will be honored when our duty will be fulfilled. If the Tome of Koslun gets damaged or burned by your warmongering, Arishok, you’d fail us all and I swear to Koslun that I’d personally bring your soul back to Par Vollen. We did not come all this way to lose the sacred tome in the middle of a battlefield!”

A heavy silence followed.

Ashkaari checked her surroundings. Considering the smell and the darkness, she was still in Darktown. She probably hadn't been unconscious for long. To discover that there were still bas around to hear her ranting at the Arishok (even if they didn’t know what she said) was a little embarrassing.

“Understood,” the Arishok replied, impassive. He turned to the Viscount. “You may live another day.”

A throat clearing on Ashkaari’s other side got her to shift until she caught sight of Hissrad’s smirk. He crouched to talk to her in a low tone: “How nice of you to wake up and save the day, kadan.”

“How nice of you to find me before I die of infection,” she grumbled tiredly.

“The Viscount freaked out and put Hawke on the job. She warned us so we tagged along.”

Ashkaari hummed her understanding before sighing tiredly. A warm breath on her hand got her attention. She looked aside to find Hawke’s mabari staring at her with… worry? “You’re the one who found me,” she realized, opening her hand to scratch his chin. “Thanks…” He barked happily. She groaned. “Not so loud.”  It got her a small whine and a lick of her fingers in apology. She huffed and smiled softly. Dogs might not be so bad… when they were as smart as this one.

The Qunari were getting ready to leave and bring her back to their compound where she could be healed, when a commotion drew everyone’s attention.

Ashkaari couldn’t see anything from her position, but she heard armors clinking. She nudged Hissrad and asked: “Who?”

“The templars.”

She tensed and immediately hissed as pain sparked from her wound. “What of the one who brought us here?”

“I killed him,” Hissrad replied with a satisfied smirk, “beheaded him, to be exact.”

“(...) We’re here in behalf of Grand Cleric Elthina, to witness the scene,” she heard, drawing her attention to the face-off between a templar and the Arishok. It took Ashkaari a few seconds and a glimpse of blond hair to recognize the Knight-Captain. What was his bas name? Those were so hard to memorize, they had so many… Ah, yes: Cullen Rutherford.

“Do your duty,” the Arishok allowed, raising a hand toward a part of the room she couldn’t see, “witness the madness of your own.”

The Knight-Captain moved away, but in the silence, she could hear his shocked intake of breath.

Hawke stepped forward. “I was there when Varnell killed the last Qunari, Knight-Captain. He was the one leading those fanatics, there’s no doubt. The Guard Captain can confirm.”

“I do. He also corrupted one of my guards by using the seal of the Grand Cleric,” a female voice stated with clear distaste.

“I… see. I’ll inform Knight-Commander Meredith. Ser Varnell will be stripped of all rights of honor. I assure you, Arishok, that the Templars do not condone those acts in any way.”

“This mean nothing to me, bas. I have heard only meaningless words and promises as the provocations pile up. Your order is as chaotic and honorless as the rest of this city.”

Ashkaari nudged Hissrad’s leg to get his attention, feeling too weak to speak up herself. After a few gestures, the Ben-hassrath got her meaning and announced for all to hear: “Arishok. Ashkaari wishes to speak to the Knight-Captain.”

After a few seconds (and probably a glare of warning for the bas), the Arishok moved from his position between her and the templars, allowing their leader to step forward cautiously. When he caught sight of her on the stretcher, he faltered slightly and stopped a few steps away. “Are you alright, my lady?”

Ashkaari waved her hand at Hissrad, who fold up the blanket long enough for the human to see her wound (although she couldn’t see it, there was no doubt they had broken the arrow’s shaft and dressed the wound, leaving it as such until she could be treated; for a soldier it should speak for itself).

There was this little intake of breath again, the only sign of shock the Knight-Captain showed before speaking honestly: “You have my deepest apologies for the actions of one of our own.”

She waved to stop his empty regrets and get him to come closer. “You’re here on behalf of the Grand Cleric, are you not? I have a message for her, if you can ensure it reaches her, word for word.”

“I will, absolutely,” he agreed immediately, crouching to her level.

“Under the Qun, there is one choice: to do or not to do. And there is change, for every day is a reassertion of your choice. The absence of change is a choice, the easiest maybe but not necessarily the wisest. To change is a choice, the hardest without a doubt but, if well thought out, rarely a mistake.” She stopped briefly to clear her thoughts despite her tiredness, this was something she had reflected on and needed to convey to the Grand Cleric. Whether or not it would make a difference was unclear but enlightening others, even bas, was her duty. “Sometimes, the world forces our hand and demands change. When it is so, we have a saying: only a fool will go against the flow, the wise will read the sea and rise with the wave.”  She hissed as a slight shift provoked a flash of sharp pain, and she gritted her teeth for a few seconds before the pain receded enough. Somewhere on her other side, Hissrad was hovering, but she ignored him to look the Knight-Captain in the eye. “This is my message. Also, let her know that peace would be compromised in the event of another incident, if that’s not obvious enough...”

“It will be done, my lady.” The templar walked away, looking disturbed for some reason. Behind him, Varric was writing something hastily.

Ashkaari was feeling worse and worse. Her kin didn’t miss it. Her stretcher was picked up without delay.  

She had no recollection of the walk back. She dozed for most of it.

Chapter Text

Two weeks after she got hurt by the fanatics, Ashkaari took up her duties again. Qunari simply didn't do coddling. She was able to walk so she was able to work. Since she was her own boss, she was the one deciding her own schedule and pace.

If there was always someone to keep an eye on her wherever she was, well... she indulged her kin's need to watch over her.

Imekari, in particular, spent most of her days stuck to Ashkaari's side. When she was leaving to spend some time with her friends, it was only after she was certain that the injured woman was well care for.

Hissrad found this extremely endearing and amusing. He watched the girl leave with a smirk despite the lecture she just gave him. "So, did you drink enough, Ashkaari? Does your back hurt? Do you need to lie down? Should I carry you?" He leaned down to reach her ear despite the fact that she was sitting on a crate. "Or do you need a massage?" He whispered.

Ashkaari huffed and gently slapped his arm. "Oh, hush, you. I'm fine. I'll see my bed tonight and it'll be much too soon." Being hurt in the back was a pain to deal with. Lying on her stomach for days became very quickly annoying.

"You can always see my bed... or the Arishok's. I'm sure he would oblige."

"Don't you dare," she growled at the mere mention of getting the Arishok involved. He was usually a reasonable man but these last weeks, if she was showing any sign of fatigue, he would systematically get her to lie down and none of her reassurances could convince him otherwise.

Hissrad laughed at her and very gently patted her shoulder. "There, there, kadan, I won't get the enforcer if you're a good girl."

She poked him in retaliation and glared with all her might but he took a step back, still smirking.

"It's good to see you so fierce, kadan," he admitted after a few seconds, his eyes softening. "You gave us all a fright."

"I know," she sighed before gesturing for him to come closer. When he indulged her, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Don't fret. I'm well and overprotected, like you all prefer."

"Damn right." His forehead rested against hers for a few seconds before he got himself together and straightened. "It seems like your little speech for the Grand Cleric had some effects."

"Is that so?"

He hummed and nodded. "I talked to Hawke. The priestess responsible for the hate against us was demoted and exiled to some remote convent."

Ashkaari pondered it out, looking over the compound thoughtfully. Her kin was going about their business in their usual organized manner. There was no hesitation in the Qun. "A concrete action, at least. That's good to hear. The Grand Cleric might wake up from her lethargy."

"Not sure if it will change much now though, it's a little late. The harm has been done."

Ashkaari shifted and a spark of pain going up and down her back agreed with this statement. "Yes, indeed, but better late than never. We shall see."

A human, one of her disciples, slowly walked to her. "I'm sorry, Ashkaari, may I speak to you or should I come back later?"

"I'm listening, kabethari."

Hissrad took a step back, leaned against the wall and stayed quiet.

"I... uh... I was thinking about converting to the Qun."

Ashkaari watched him thoughtfully. This human, she knew, was the son of the Viscount, named Seamus, heir to the city. While the Qun didn't care about the bas hierarchy, Ashkaari couldn't help but think that such a convert would bring trouble to an already difficult situation. She shouldn't care, she knew. Bas politics have little importance compared to the sacred mission of bringing kabethari into the Qun, and yet... She could literally feel Hissrad's thoughts on the matter, warning her of "trouble, trouble!"

"Tell me about your decision, kabethari. Why do you wish to follow the Qun?"

Seamus shifted his stance uneasily but kept his chin high and didn't hesitate in his answer: "I don't believe in the Maker. I didn't for years now, and the Chantry lies and protects its own interests. The Qun is fairer. It says that all Qunaris are equal, regardless of their race, sex or birth. It gives education to all and take care of everyone's basic needs. Everyone is equally necessary to the society and has a purpose. I believe that's how a society should be."

"You understand the main principles of the Qun, kabethari, but you omit the notions that bas usually consider abhorrent to them. What of them?"

He blushed slightly and looked at the wall to avoid their eyes. "I... I'm not bothered by the Qun's stance on personal relationships. On the contrary. I like men, which wouldn't be approved of here since people expect me to get married to a woman and have children. I mean, I could have children if the Qun wants me to, although I know I wouldn't be the one to raise them, but... ah... I don't think I could have a family like the Chantry wants me to, but I could follow the Qun's rules."

"Could you? Your heart loves fiercely, kabethari. I'm aware of the feelings you had for Ashaad."

His blush covered all his face but still he stayed put. "Yes, but I wouldn't neglect my duty regardless. I know about duty."

"Do you?" Ashkaari insisted (she wouldn't have if he had been any other bas; maybe it should have bothered her but her purpose wasn't to convert, it was greater: she was in charge of all the Qunari's well-being in Kirkwall). "Won't you neglect your duty to your people and your family by following the Qun?"

Seamus looked down to his feet, clenching his hands behind his back. "I'm not... I'm not fit for ruling. I wouldn't be a good Viscount. I know it. I've always knew it. Father told me it could be learn so, for a while, I tried, but I know that Kirkwall would be better with any other ruler than myself. Isn't it my duty to make the best decision for everyone, regardless of this archaic feudal system?"

She looked at him, truly looked at him, went past his birth and the difficult context they were in. He found the courage to look up and stare at her. There, in his eyes, she found the answer. He belonged to the Qun. There were no doubts. This, somehow, made things harder. If his faith had been feeble, then she could have rejected him and avoid any trouble following his conversion.

She breathed in, gently rolled her shoulders and neck to relieve their tension, before nodding. "The Qun welcomes you, Viddathari."

The convert's joy was obvious for all to see. He bowed low with a hand over his heart and said in hesitant qunlat: "Thank you, Ashkaari." When he straightened, he looked around. "Does it mean I can stay here?"

"You can, Viddathari, our home is your home. However, don't be too hasty. As welcome as you are in the Qun, your purpose for now is elsewhere."

"What do you mean?" He blinked at her, looking for answer, for guidance.

She gestured for him to come closer and he stepped forward until she was able to brush his cheek. Surprised, he leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. He was a soul deprived of touch and casual comfort.

"You're aware that our position, here, in Kirkwall, is difficult."

He nodded slowly and looked at the bandages visible around her torso. "You were hurt by a Templar and fanatics." He scowled. "This show how low the Chantry has fallen, that they hurt a woman of knowledge and faith."

She hummed gently and rubbed his brow. "An official conversion from you will accentuate tensions between bas and Qunari." Hiding the truth was useless. He was Qunari now, he was their equal.

"You... you want me to lie? to spy?" He asked, suddenly worried.

"No, Viddathari , your heart is too open, you are no liar."

"What should I do then?"

"There will come a time when you'll be able to join us openly and fully embrace the Qun. This time hasn't come. For now, you'll learn and observe in silence. Learn about the Qun, observe bas, contemplate your decision and find peace, so that when you'll have to leave this world behind, you'll be able to do so with no regrets."

"I... think I understand. What about my father? What should I tell him?"

"This is your decision, Viddathari . What does your heart tell you?"

"That I should tell him, but only him, that I'll leave him. I love him and I'll miss him but this is what I need to do."

"Your heart is in the right place, Viddathari . Go and enjoy the time you have left with your kin."

He took a step back to do just that but faltered and suddenly jolted forward to lean over her lap and briefly hug her waist. "Thank you, Ashkaari! I won't disappoint you!" He ran away in a rush, announcing loudly "I am Viddathari!" to any Qunari in his way. A few patted his shoulder in congratulations and he beamed at them.

Hissrad chuckled behind her as Ashkaari rubbed her back with a wince. "Well played, kadan, well played. That was nicely handled. Ready to go bed now?"

She sighed and raised a hand. "Help me to stand up. I'm going to borrow the Arishok's bed. His pillows are better."

"Damn right they are, the lucky man."

*

Ten days later, Hissrad walked into the Arishok's office where they were finishing dinner.

"We might have found the Tome of Koslun," he announced suddenly

The Arishok was immediately on his feet. "Where?"

"Not far, but we've to hurry, the thief and Hawke went to get it."

"Hawke is helping the thief?!" the Arishok growled.

"Details on the way," Ashkaari suggested, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders. "Let's go."

"You're not leaving the compound," the Arishok ordered as they left the house.

She glared at him. "If you think anything or anyone can stop me from getting the Tome, you're mistaken, Ashirok. Get your men, we're leaving in two minutes." She went to her room to fetch her weapons without waiting. She was at the gates before the Arishok himself and dared him silently to stop her.

He stopped in front of her and leaned down for eye-contact. "You stay by my side."

"Fine," she agreed, arms crossed. "Get me the Tome."

They left the compound with their usual efficiency, quick and silent in the dark streets. Hissrad led them through Lowtown as he explained that the Tome was supposed to be sold by an ex-member of the pirate's crew to Tevinter agents. The thief Isabella had heard of the exchange and asked Hawke for help, but Hissrad had been faster. He had already sent Gatt and Kata as well as several soldiers to take position in the building.

On his advice, the rest of them waited outside of the old foundry, taking position all around to make sure that there was no escape possible.

The thief ran right into their trap. She was outnumbered and brought down with only a quick struggle. Thrown to the ground, she had to let go of the Tome. The Ashirok stepped forward to retrieve it and respectfully brought it back to Ashkaari.

The erudite opened it as the foundry's door opened brusquely to let out Hawke and her crew, who were immediately surrounded. Ashkaari ignored their swearing, the pirate's insults and everything else, her focus narrowing to the sacred book and its writing. Reverently touching the paper, the illustrations and slowly reading the first lines, she leafed through it to the last page, studying the prophet's signature carefully. After a few minutes, she closed the book and held it to her chest. "This is the Tome of Koslun," she confirmed reverently to the Arishok, ignoring all eyes on her.

Her people's attitude changed slightly but so obviously to her eyes: small smiles of victory, relaxed shoulders and fists closed in elation. After years of exile, finally... they succeeded and could hope to go home.

The Arishok smirked before turning to glare at the thief. "Take her back to the compound," he ordered.

Isabella was hauled on her feet. Her wrists were bound behind her back and two soldiers held her by the arms.

"Wait! " Hawke tried to step forward but was kept at distance by the spears surrounding her and her friends. "What are you going to do with her?"

"She stole the sacred Tome of Koslun and provoked our exile here. She'll be brought to Par Vollen, where she'll face judgment," the Arishok announced, frowning at Hawke in displeasure. "You have proven worthy until now, basalit-an, and I've been told that you weren't aware of the thief's crime. This is the only reason you won't be killed for your collaboration with her . Stay out of it."

"You have the book, don't you? Keep it and let Isabella go," Hawke offered, ignoring his threat.

The Arishok straightened, a menacing figure with the moon at his back and an army of angry Qunaris at his beck and call.

"I hate to say it, Hawke," Varric said, looking around warily with his crossbow pointing at the nearest Qunari, "but we might not be in a position to make demands."

"I suggest you listen to your friend, Hawke," Hissrad said, moving out of the shadows with his great axe on a shoulder. "At least this one didn't abandon you in a room full of his enemies while he ran away with the prize."

Isabella threw a slew of invectives in Hissrad's direction.

Hawke faltered but shook her head. "This conflict has brought enough blood and death, Arishok. You have a chance to end it peacefully."

"This conflict was her doing, Hawke," the Arishok spat. "All the losses of lives were ultimately provoked by her theft, but she selfishly stayed away from it, didn't she? Lying to you while you struggled to mediate her mess. And you're asking me to let her go without justice?! I might have misjudged you, bas."

Hawke bit her bottom lip and stared at Isabella while the pirate didn't dare to meet her eyes. "She told me that she had no choice. A powerful merchant ordered her to bring him your sacred book for her life to be spared. Isn't he the one responsible? It should be him you should hold accountable!" Hawke tried again.

"Everyone has a choice," Ashkaari interrupted finally, stepping forward to stand at the Arishok's right. "To act under threat is still an act you're responsible of. You raise an interesting point however, Hawke. Tell me, this merchant, is he here? Can he be brought to justice?"

Hawke shifted and rubbed her head with a groan. "No."

"Then this is a moot point, isn't it? We have the thief here. She'll be judged. We shall deal with the puppetmaster when we have the opportunity to do so."

"What if I bring him to you?"

" Castillon is in Antiva," Hissrad pointed out, "do you have incredible magical transportation abilities that we're unaware of, Hawke?"

The human stayed quiet. The Arishok went to turn away, but Ashkaari was watching the basalit-an thoughtfully. "You're quite determined to save someone who ultimately betrayed you, Hawke. Why?"

"I told you. There have been enough deaths."

"No, that's not it," Ashkaari dismissed the idea and turned to her friend. "Hissrad?"

"Her mother was killed two weeks ago," he explained, using the Common word since it didn't exist in Qunlat. "She wasn't able to save her. She probably needs to save the thief to compensate. In a way she's truthful: there have been too many deaths to her taste recently."

"I only understood one word from what you just said but, just from that, fuck you," Hawke grumbled at him.

"Gladly. Your sweetheart can participate."

Hawke and Fenris blinked and pointedly avoided staring at each other.

The Arishok grunted, glared at Hissrad and then turned to Ashkaari. "Do not let the basalit-an's feelings tamper with our mission."

"Of course not," Ashkaari scoffed. "This isn't about her feelings but about her will. She's basalit-an as you said, her word is worthy of attention, and she raised a point. The merchant should be dealt with. If she can do it, and she has proven that difficult missions are her forte, then shouldn't we take advantage of that?"

"At the cost of the thief?"

Ashkaari elegantly brushed away the argument with a wave of her hand. "The thief is worthless. She won't convert to the Qun. She would end up dead or viddath-bas after giving every information she has. Information that she would willingly share with Hawke somehow."

"What of her judgment? The Ariqun and the Arigena would want to judge her in Par Vollen," the Arishok reminded her.

"They wouldn't approve," Ashkaari agreed, "but getting the thief to Par Vollen would be too much effort in my opinion. A prisoner is always a hassle. One that evaded us for so long and which Hissrad acknowledges as potentially troublesome, even more so. If the merchant is dealt with, it would be worth it."

"It's a big if. Are you willing to put your faith on bas?"

"On bas? No. On this basalit-an? Yes."

The Arishok hesitated and stared at Hawke long enough to bother anyone else, but the woman, somehow feeling the importance of this moment, stared back fiercely. "You may have a point, but would you let the thief go unharmed?"

Ashkaari hummed and turned to Hissrad. "If the thief is free to go and an agreement fails, could you kill her promptly?"

"Kata?" The spymaster didn't move a muscle.

The assassin dropped from the roof at the call of her superior but stayed in the shadows. "I know all her bad habits. As long as she's on the ground, it would be easy. On sea? Trickier. You'd have to put all the navy on her, just enough to make her life a living hell."

Ashkaari nodded her acknowledgment and turned to the Arishok to suggest: "A brand and a contract on her head against her life and the death of her backer."

"... Agreed," he grunted before staring at Hawke. "Very well, basalit-an, your pledge has been heard. Here is our offer, take it or leave it."

All bas waited quietly. Even Isabella had stopped her insults and her attempts to free herself (her guards had to tie back her wrists once and threatened to break her legs twice) to listen.

"The one you call Isabella is a thief and will be branded at once as such for all Qunari to acknowledge. She will be otherwise free to go as long as you, Hawke, swear to kill the one responsible for the theft, named Castillon. If the merchant isn't dead by the end of the year, all Qunaris will have for order to kill the thief and to take you for conversion."

"This is madness!" Varric immediately protested.

"Be glad, bas, that the word of Hawke is worth as much," the Arishok growled warningly. "Any less and you all would have been killed for interfering in our affairs. This is Ashkaari's offer. Take it or leave."

"If I fail, do I have your word that anyone else but me and Isabella won't pay the price for it?" Hawke asked, ignoring her friends' attempts to stop her from even considering the thought.

"If you fail and are converted to the Qun, I doubt you would be separated for long from your kadan," Ashkaari pointed out.

"Kadan?"

"She means me," Fenris said, "and she's right. I won't leave you alone in this mess, but remember that you don't owe Isabella anything. She betrayed us first."

"What about the others?" Hawke insisted.

"The others will be free as long as they don't try to oppose the enforcers of the Qun."

"... Good enough. I'll do it."

"Hawke!" Varric groaned. "Fuck. Aveline is going to be so mad."

"Yeah, mh... Let's not say anything to Bethany either, okay?"

Ashkaari lost interest in the bas and nodded to the Arishok. He pulled a knife from his sash and walked to the thief.

"You stupid hunk of an ox-man, stay away from me," Isabella hissed at him, pulling on her guards' grip.

"If your struggle makes the knife slip on your throat, thief, it won't be a great loss," the Arishok pointed out, unmoved. He held out the blade toward a Saarebas who stepped forward with a flame in his hands to heat the metal.

Ashkaari didn't look at the branding and ignored the screams of pain (surprisingly short, the thief might have more strength of will in her than she previously showed). She was focused on the Tome of Koslun, which she leafed through, soft-eyed. She was the first Qunari to read it in ages. It was moving beyond words.

"Kadan," Hissrad murmured beside her.

"Mh?"

"It's time to go."

Ashkaari looked up to see the thief being welcomed in her friends' group, leaning heavily in Hawke's embrace.

The Qunaris were closing around the erudite and the Arishok stopped by her side, waiting for her. She smiled at him. "We have the sacred scriptures. Let's celebrate and get ready to go home."

For the first time, she saw him smile.

Chapter Text

One week after they recovered the Tome of Koslun, the compound emptied.

The Qunari walked in closed ranks through the streets of Kirkwall under the wide-eyed stares of the bas who hurried out of their way.

While the news had been released that the Qunari were leaving (news greeted with a lot of relief and celebration), many Kirkwallers were seeing Qunari in a large group for the first time. There was a lot of gaping and pointing. Admiration, awe, fear.. all those emotions could be seen on the bas' faces. Some dared to shout variations of "Good riddance!" at their back. Many gawked unabashedly, reassured by the presence of guards and templars along the way.

It was of little consequence for the Qunari, who were even more relieved than the bas to leave this wretched place.

Ashkaari was walking by the Arishok's side. They stopped in front of the city's gates. Without surprise, there weren't any officials to see them out. No-one else than Hawke and some of her friends.

"Basalit-an," the Arishok said, "you proved yourself worthy in a land where honor is rare. See that your debt is paid in time, unless you want to demonstrate the unreliability of your kind."

"It will be done," Hawke replied with a stubborn rise of her chin, her arms crossed defiantly over her armor.

The Arishok grunted, nodded his head and said "Panahedan" before taking the lead of the army through the gates.

Ashkaari remained while the soldiers walked ahead. Hissrad took a step outside of the group to stay by her side.

The bas watched her suspiciously, but she ignored most of them, only interested in the white-haired elf who stared back at her.

"You have found purpose at your kadan's side, but love is fickle. Should it ever fail you, the Qun will welcome you and bring you peace, kabethari," she told him.

He replied by a simple nod of understanding. She smiled softly. There was potential in him, she could see it.

Beside her, Hissrad had crouched down to greet Fang, the mabari. Their farewell included a lot of play-fighting, barking and muttering. Ashkaari pretended she didn't see or hear any of it, for Hissrad's dignity.

She turned toward Hawke and was met with open hostility.

"Are you going to tell me to keep my word too, 'or else'?" the human asked.

"That would be unnecessarily repetitive, wouldn't it be?" Ashkaari replied with a tilt of her head. "I meant to say: ataas shokra, basalit-an."

Baffled, Hawke glanced at Fenris. "What?"

"Ataas shokra means 'glorious struggle'. It can be used in several ways, but here... it's a wish of good luck?" Fenris tried to translate.

Ashkaari bowed her head. "It is. You may not see it, Hawke, but there is more to your debt than justice's execution. It will have greater consequences than you foresee."

"That's not foreboding at all," Hawke grumbled. "What kind of consequences?"

"That depends on you. Change doesn't happen by chance."

The dwarf muttered: "Ooh, good one. Need to write it down."

Ashkaari took her leave. "Panahedan. May we meet again."

*

The Qunari made camp near a wide open beach, east from Kirkwall. They had warned Par Vollen as soon as they had retrieved the Tome, which mean that they will have to wait at least two weeks for the ships to arrive.

It was just as well, though. Two weeks weren't too many for Ashkaari to welcome and organize their new converts. Few had left Kirkwall at the same time as the army, but several Viddathari joined them each day. They had taken the time to settle their past life before moving forward, towards their new life under the Qun.

Seamus was one of them. He arrived before dusk, a week after their departure from Kirkwall. Ashkaari only took a glance at him before opening her arms to let him unleash his sorrow. Without a word, she hugged him, until he straightened up, dried his tears and sighed.

"I'm ready to serve the Qun."

"The Qun welcomes you, Viddathari," she said before gently fixing his hair. "We're your new family."

Three ships arrived exactly when expected. The orders they brought didn't surprise Ashkaari as much as they should have. The Arishok, Hissrad and she glanced at each other silently. They were already paying the price of their decision.

Hissrad had to leave for Orlais.

The Arishok was called back to Par Vollen.

Ashkaari was sent to Seheron.

She closed her eyes. Asit tal-eb. It is to be.

The Arishok stepped forward, touched their foreheads together and said: "Thank you for your guidance, Rasaan."

Hissrad stepped forward, touched their noses together and breathed: "May the sea bring you back to me, kadan."

They left without looking back and, for more than half a dozen years, stayed in solitude as the Qun ordered.

***

9:35 Dragon – A year after the Qunari left Kirkwall

Hawke,

It pleased me greatly to hear of the fulfillment of your promise. As expected, you were true to your word and proved your worth. For this and all your actions in Kirkwall, you are considered basalit-an by the Qunari. Shall you ever face one of ours, he'll know of your name and your deeds. You will be treated with the same respect as our kin.

As promised, your friend Isabella and yourself are now free from any expectations of the Qun.

I wish you good winds and fair sea,

Ashkaari.

9:36 Dragon

Hissrad,

I apologize for taking so long to answer you, kadan. As you may have learn, the Arishok was demoted to Kithshok and sent to the Tevinter war front while I was exiled to the deepest temple of Seheron.

I won't do you the affront to pretend that the beginning of my new mission wasn't draining. During the darkest hours of night, I often admired and wished for the mental strength which allowed you to carry out your duties for so long in this difficult place.

The news of Castillon's death reached me three months late, after a long period of silence. The Triumvirate acknowledged the success of our decision, and I was transferred to Seheron City for a consulting position in the Viddathlok, before finally being brought back to Par Vollen. It has been eight months now, and I received all your letters, at the same time, a week ago.

Do not worry about me. I have settled well here. I organized a pet therapy, since it has worked so well with you. Some of the warriors showed traumatic reactions when faced with dogs, however, which was unexpected. I had to raise a litter of cats for them. You know me, I'm not really fond of dogs and any beast in general. Yet, I have to admit that those "furballs" (that's how the soldiers like to call them) grew on me. A Viddathari told me that I was a cat person. That's a bas saying apparently. You're a dog person. We aren't supposed to get along. Bas and their strange beliefs...

The news of your loss pained me, but I have no doubt that you're still a sight to behold (a eyepatch, kadan? how fetching !) on and out of the battlefield. I will witness it, the prophet's legacy willing. I will be your eye if you would be my shield.

Your heart seems at ease in the midst of those you call Chargers. It seems to me that you created the Antaam you need. Some might question its legitimacy but we, more than anyone, know of the difficulty of keeping our faith and soul healthy on foreign ground. None can judge you for doing what you were ordered to do better than expected.

If those Chargers bring you peace, then they might be some of those bas worthy of thought. Koslun knows that if anyone can found a group of such mercenaries, it is you.

My heart is with you, kadan,

Ashkaari.

***

The letters came irregularly and discreetly. There were probably many that Krem never caught sight of. Most of them were read without The Iron Bull batting an eye. Some provoked a smile, a snort, or a fit of anger that only showed when the chief dragged them out for training and left them tired and aching.

Krem couldn't remember a letter that had produced all those reactions successively and ended up in brooding. No, it was just this one: the letter that the chief kept safely tucked in a pocket.

Usually, Krem didn't pry. With the Iron Bull, it was useless anyway: you knew only what he wanted you to hear. This was different. This was personal. So, an evening, when they were both barely tipsy, he asked: "What's the deal with the letter, Chief?"

The Iron Bull didn't pretend he didn't know what Krem was talking about. Their relationship was better than that. The chief was better than that. He sipped his drink and stared at the tavern's fireplace. "In Qunlat, we have a word... Kadan. It means 'where the heart lies'. That's how we call someone important to us, the kind of people who stays in your heart wherever you go... you get me?"

"Yeah." Krem nodded, leaning forward.

"I have one," Bull admitted before he tensed. "She was sent in the worst place on Thedas for doing what she believed was right."

"Seheron?" Krem guessed. There was only one place that the boss hated so much.

"Fucking Seheron," the Qunari growled.

"The letter was from her?"

"Yeah. I've been sending her letters since we separated. Never got any reply back, until now. Turned out they kept her from outside contact. Punishment for doing her fucking job," he grumbled.

Krem pondered these news for a few minutes, rolling his glass and watching the liquid swirl. "Want us to raid Seheron and free her?"

Bull snorted then burst out laughing. "Tempting," he said once he calmed down, "but nah, we'd go there and she'd just look at me with that exasperated look of hers before shooing us out. Anyway, seems like the worst of it is over. They got proof that she did the right thing. She's safe in a temple of the capital now, and she's writing back."

"So, you're pissed because of what she went through."

Emphasized by shadows, the chief's expression was somber. "She shouldn't have had to go there. Not her."

"What is she like? What's her name? I mean... her title?"

"Ashkaari. She's... an erudite. Soft. Wise. Fair. Dedicated. Open-minded. Thinks too much. Doesn't like dogs or horses but cats are fine apparently."

"What in the void does she like in you?"

"Fuck if I know." Bull tilted his head. "Must be the sex."

Krem snorted before realizing: "Oh, so she is your lover! Never can be sure with you, Qunari."

"Yeah, she's the fun kind of kadan." A smirk and the chief went back to his silent brooding. That was fine: everyone could be homesick, even a Qunari.

***

9:41 Dragon

Hissrad,

I am glad for the delay that let me know of Haven's destruction at the same time as your survival. I would like to use the opportunity to remind you that you are not allowed to die before I see you again. It's an order from the Rasaan... me.

Oh, I wish I could see your face right now. Yes, kadan, you read that right. I am Rasaan. What a strange twist of fate that someone who used to be scorned and punished by an Ariqun is now heir to the title, isn't it?

It's a long story. You might have heard that the previous Rasaan was seriously injured three years ago, when the Arishok assaulted the fortress of Ath Velanis in Seheron. She was unable to perform her duties for several months. I was called by the Arishok to replace her, due to my experience in Kirkwall (the previous Arishok honored me by recommending my work to his successor).

A few months ago, the Ariqun was relieved from his duties and the Rasaan found unfit to take his place. A new Ariqun has been chosen, and I have been appointed as her heir with the full support of the Triumvirate. This honor surprised me, as you can imagine, but it's also a heavy responsibility that I'm doing my best to deserve. It won't be a surprise to you that I have spent most of my free time reading to prepare myself to my new duties. This explains why it has been so long since I have written, kadan. I apologize.

I am in Qunandar and met the Kithshok yesterday. He is as surly as he ever was in Kirkwall but congratulated me on a (I quote) "well due promotion". When I mentioned my doubts, he decided to thoroughly distract me. You would have approved.

It might have been effective. I am writing to you right now, instead of reading the Tome of Koslun yet again, after all.

I will be leaving with the Arishok soon. The Inquisition's increased importance hasn't escaped Par Vollen's notice. We are going south. We shall see each other again soon enough, kadan.

Remember: no dying. Rasaan's orders.

Your kadan.

***

"Chief? Good news?"

"Best news I've ever read, Krem. Come on, Chargers! Drinks for everyone! I'm buying!"

Chapter Text

It had started well and gone south really fast.

The smuggling ship was at the bottom of the sea, but Venatori were converging towards the Chargers' cliff.

"They have still got time to fall back if you signal them now," the Inquisitor, Kaaras, pointed out.

"Your men need to hold that position, Hissrad," Gatt reminded him.

Bull clenched his fists. Indecision wasn't a familiar feeling, and he hated it. This was his worst nightmare happening: a choice between the Chargers and the Qun. An impossible choice.

"Call the retreat."

There was a moment of hesitation while Bull realized that it wasn't the Inquisitor giving the order, but a voice which he hadn't heard in years. He spun around with the others to see three Qunari making their way through the empty Venatori camp to join them. Two of them were soldiers, elite bodyguards from the look of their armor and vitaar. The last one...

She was protected from the rain by a hood covering her slender horns and white hair, but her face had visited his dreams so often that even years of separation couldn't make him forget.

"Rasaan," Gatt breathed on his right. "Why...?"

"Call the retreat, Hissrad. It's an order," she repeated.

Orders were good. They pushed any doubt away.

Bull blew the horn to get his Chargers to retreat.

Rasaan had passed by the Inquisitor, Solas and Varric to stand on the edge of the cliff, a lantern in hand. She raised it high in the dreadnought's direction. By pulling on a lever, she opened and closed a metal shutter in a precise pattern. When she put it down, she waited, watching attentively until they all saw a light signal coming from the dreadnought.

"I suggest taking a few steps back. Shields and barriers might be necessary," she informed them casually when she turned around. Her bodyguards stepped forward and raised their shields. She gracefully crouched down, head tilted downwards, and they covered her without a care for their own safety.

They were all a little late to understand what she meant. The dreadnought firing was what made them caught on. They all immediately dived to the ground, Solas raising a barrier hastily.

A storm of fire struck the opposing hill and the beach between them in a thunder of explosions. Sparks and fragments fell around them for several seconds, hammering Solas' barrier.

When it calmed, they all hesitantly stood up to watch the damage. Bushes and trees were on fire, but the rain would soon extinguish them. The Venatori though... they were all dead or dying: the furthest of them were covered in burns when they weren't simply burning.

"Oh, shit," Varric breathed.

"Right on target," Rasaan noted casually as she adjusted her hood. "Excellent. The dreadnought can now leave safely." She went back to the edge and raised the lantern for a new signal. As soon as she was done, the Qunari ship moved toward the open sea.

Bull walked to her. "Kadan."

"Yes?" She turned to him.

He caught her chin and kissed her. It wasn't one of his best kisses: it was frantic and hurried, but he poured all his passion into it. He was pretty sure that he managed to convey just how much he'd like to have his sweet time alone with her right this instant...

When he released her, she had to catch her breath. "That wasn't very professional," she chided him, but her upturned lips negated the reproach.

"I'd show you unprofessional if we had the opportunity," he growled under his breath so that none other than her could hear him.

She hid a blush by tugging on her hood and clearing her throat.

"I fucking missed you, kadan," he said louder, "you have a knack for finding a solution no-one was thinking of."

"Faced with an unsatisfactory choice, you have to make your own way."

"An interesting quote," Solas said, reminding them of the group surrounding them.

"Our prophet's words, as transcribed in the Tome of Koslun," she explained before looking down to their smallest member. "Varric Tethras, a pleasure to see you again."

The dwarf bowed his head. "Sorry, I'm not sure I know how to call you anymore..."

"Rasaan is my new title," she replied with a smile.

"The pleasure is mine then, Rasaan. If Tiny isn't going to make the introductions, let me introduce you to Solas, expert on the Fade..."

They politely nodded to each other.

"... and this is the Inquisitor, Kaaras Adaar."

"Inquisitor, congratulations on closing the Breach."

"Thank you," the Vashoth said before glancing at Bull. "Shall we meet with the Chargers, check if they got away unscathed?"

"Yeah. I'm right behind you, boss," Bull agreed, letting the members of the Inquisition walk ahead while he followed with Gatt and Rasaan, her two bodyguards a step behind.

"That was risky, Rasaan," Gatt told her.

"As the rest of this mission was. I admit that when I spent our trip learning about light signals, I wasn't exactly expecting to put it into practice so soon, but I'd say this was a success. I shall advise making this method common knowledge for the Ben-hassrath. It seems quite useful, isn't it?"

"Damn right," Bull agreed. "Fire signals are too basic. Can you imagine what we would have been able to do with this in Seheron, Gatt? It would have made things safer, that's for sure."

The Viddathari relaxed somewhat and nodded. "That's true. Even on the ground, we could relay messages and warnings more easily this way."

"I shall mention it to the appropriate individuals," she promised.

"Of course you will, now that you're Rasaan," Bull said, insisting on her new title. "Am I going to hear how that happened exactly, kadan?"

"I will explain later," she promised. "In the mean time, let's say that we weren't stranded in Kirkwall for years for nothing."

"The book?"

"The tome of Koslun, yes."

Bull hummed and nodded, agreeing to wait until later for more information. "How long are you staying?"

"For now, not long, but if the alliance goes as planned, we shall see each other again soon enough and for much longer."

"Yeah?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. If he had a choice, he wouldn't let her go.

Probably guessing his thoughts (and sharing them), she smiled at him softly and nodded in a silent promise.

They reached the meeting point. The Chargers were already waiting for them. Bull sped up while he visually checked that they were all there. "Krem! Report!"

"Chief! We're fine. A few scratches from the fight, some bumps and burns from the explosion. Nothing Stitches can't handle."

"Good!" Bull squeezed his lieutenant's shoulder in relief. That had been close. If Rasaan hadn't been there... he didn't even want to think about what he would have done. He didn't know. The possibilities were fodder for nightmares.

Solas went to help Stitches in healing the injured. They all squeezed under the awning keeping most of the rain away (as much as possible on the Storm Coast anyway).

"The fireworks were a nice touch, chief. A bit unexpected though. The retreat wasn't a moment too soon," Krem subtly commented. He was glancing at the newcomers pointedly.

"Krem, this is Rasaan, who saved your ass today. Kadan, this is Cremisius Aclassi, Krem for short, my second."

"Kadan?" Krem immediately picked up, staring between them with raised eyebrows. "Like..."

"Yeah. She's Ashkaari," Bull confirmed. "She went and got herself a promotion and everything while I was putting up with you, guys."

Rasaan shook her head in fond exasperation and finally removed her hood.

The first thing Bull noticed were the golden chains decorating her horns. She had stubbornly kept them nude before, too ashamed of their thinness. It was pretty, but more than that, it showed how much she had changed. He was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to be alone with her, to talk to her, to kiss her, to touch her...

"I have read much about you. It's a pleasure to meet you at last," Rasaan said to Krem with a small smile. She was probably thinking of the few anecdotes he had mentioned about the Chargers.

"Same here."

The Inquisitor walked up to them. "It's getting late and we all need to rest. We'll camp here tonight. Are you and your men staying, Rasaan?"

"No. The sooner we leave, the sooner the details of our alliance can be arranged."

Bull held back a groan of displeasure. It wasn't a surprise: his kadan always did the right thing, no matter her heart's preferences. He wished he could have kept her for the night, but it's not like they would have had any intimacy. Having her close without being able to touch or talk to her like he wished to would have been worse torture than seeing her go.

"Soon, kadan," she whispered in his ear when he bent down to hug her. This promise and the memory of her soft smile were his lifeline during the weeks that separated them.

*

"You ready, Chief? You spent so much time in that bath, I hope you thought of cleaning behind your ears at least," Krem teased.

"Ears aren't the problem, Krem," Bull replied as he adjusted his eyepatch. He could feel his second wincing in preparation for something bawdy. He smirked. "It's the horns. No Qunari would take another seriously if they don't take good care of their horns, especially Tamassrans."

"Yeah? What about those who don't have horns?"

"Usually, they have fancy hair. They keep it longer and braid it, or something of the sort."

"I didn't think the Qunari were vain."

"We aren't, but there's this quote of the Qun that says we shall all thrive to be 'a healthy mind in a healthy body'. Taking care of your horns or your hair is a show of self-respect. If you don't then either your mind or your body is failing," Bull explained while putting on his boots.

"Well... your horns don't look different than usual to me," Krem admitted.

The Qunari snorted. "Believe me, Rasaan will notice. I bet she'd have scolded me about it if we had been alone last time we met. I was short on horn balm."

"It seems... a little strange. You haven't seen each other in years. What about your new scars or... your eye? or even your new tattoos? Shouldn't those be more important?"

"I already told her about the important ones. Details spoke volumes."

"More than a missing eye?"

Bull stood up and caught Krem by the back of the neck. "That missing eye told her that I couldn't stand by when a bunch of Tevinters tried to maul your ass. That's nothing she doesn't know, and if you think for a second that she'll think less of you for it, you're a fool."

Krem groaned softly. "That obvious, uh?"

Bull chuckled and stepped outside of his room. "It's cute, how you and the Chargers fret over Rasaan liking you. Want a few tips?"

"If you knew, why did you wait until today to offer that?!" Krem whined, raising his hands in frustration.

"Like I said, you're cute when you fret."

"You're the worst, Chief. Go ahead then. Any tips?"

"Don't call her my girl or my anything. No 'Madam' or 'Lady'. No nicknames either, no matter how nice. She's Rasaan. Use her title, that's it. Same goes for any Qunari. Always use their titles, nothing else."

"It's insulting?"

"No. It just makes you look like a fool, in the same way that calling a cat a dog would."

"Oookay. What else?"

"That's it."

"What? Come on, chief, there must be something else."

Bull stopped in the middle of the yard and looked back at him. "Listen, Krem. If this was any other Qunari, I'd give you a list so long that you couldn't remember it all. It would be useless. What do you remember of The Tale of the Champion? Don't bother to deny it, I know you read it together and gossip about it behind my back."

"Well, we wouldn't have to if you had told us that you were in it in the first place! Why did we have to find out by Varric that you were one of the Qunari in his book?"

"You knew that I was in Kirkwall before meeting you, Krem. If you didn't make the connection, it's on you,” Bull rebuked him with a sweep of his hand. “Focus. How did Hawke manage to be respected by the Arishok?"

"She... was honest. She told him the truth even when it made her or someone else looked bad. She did what she promised she would..."

"Honesty. Remember that. Honesty and respect. That's it, that's all you need to talk to Rasaan. For the rest, you'll do just fine." Bull clapped his second's shoulder and left.

He joined Josephine and Kaaras as they walked down the stairs to the lower courtyard. Cullen was talking to Dennet with his arms crossed and turned to them when they arrived.

"They were sighted from the battlements, they should be here in a few minutes."

"Any last advice, Bull?" Kaaras asked.

Bull looked at Dennet and the stablemen waiting. "Don't hold their horses for them. Wait for them to hand them over to you. Those who aren't good enough riders will be helped by the others. They won't appreciate any outside help."

"I was asking for myself," Kaaras murmured with humor, just low enough to be heard by his advisors and Bull.

The Qunari squeezed his shoulder. "Stop overthinking it, Boss. I told you, they don't have any issues with Vashoth."

"We'll see," the Inquisitor replied doubtfully.

The sounds of hooves beating the wood and stones of the bridge drew their attention. Bull caught sight of the Arishok riding in the front, recognizable to his red pauldrons. Rasaan was without any doubt in the middle of the formation, covered on all fronts.

The riders trotted into the courtyard and stopped in perfect synchronization.

From the corner of his eye, Bull noticed that many members of the Inquisition were looking at the new arrivals. The Chargers didn't even try to be discreet, lining against the upper courtyard’s wall with Sera. Leliana, Dorian, Varric and Solas were also staring, no doubt, if not in full view then from the library. An alliance with the Qun had surprised many, and their emissaries intrigued.

The Arishok dismounted, his Asaarash horse staying still. They all did, except for Rasaan. She was the last one sitting, looking perfectly poised in more dignified attire than he had seen her wear at the Storm Coast. The weather was sunny but cold at Skyhold, and she was completely covered by a white cloak lined with matching fur on the shoulders. With her white hair and her horns decorated with gold, the sight was striking.

It was also conveniently what everyone focused on.

The Arishok handed over the reins of his horse to a soldier and walked to Rasaan. He kept the horse steady with one hand and offered the other to the horsewoman. With ample movements from her arms, Rassan pulled back her cloak and gracefully dismounted.

Bull stepped forward. "Rasaan. Arishok."

"Shanedan, Hissrad," the Arishok greeted him with a nod of his head. He had grown out his facial hair since Bull met him as Kithshok. It fit him.

Rasaan smiled warmly and offered her hand. Bull immediately caught it and squeezed her fingers gently, fighting the urge to drag her into a long hug. She wouldn’t appreciate it in those circumstances.

"Let me introduce you to the Inquisitor, Kaaras Adaar, the Commander, Cullen Rutherford, and the Ambassador, Josephine Montilyet."

"Arishok, Rasaan, welcome at Skyhold," Josephine quickly greeted them with a little bow. She visibly restrained herself for saying or doing more, remembering Bull's advice on "less being best". It was going against everything she knew about diplomacy, but she had been extremely eager to discover Qunari's customs.

Kaaras and Cullen nodded in agreement. The Commander liked to avoid greeting guests and often got away with it, Orlesians caring little for the Inquisition's army, but to Qunari it was the contrary: the Commander's absence would have been a show of weakness. Bull had made sure to explain the importance of an army leader in foreign negotiations.

"Thank you, Ambassador. Inquisitor, Commander, it's a pleasure to see you again," Rasaan replied politely.

Cullen squirmed slightly under the attention. Bull tried to remember the last time they had seen each other. Was it...? Oh. Yes, yes, it was when Rasaan (Ashkaari at the time) had been hurt by a fanatic Templar. He was probably remembering it vividly.

Josephine cleared her throat. "I'm sure your trip was tiring. Shall we get to work right away or...?"

"We shall," the Arishok replied before she could offer letting them rest. He barked an order, and the five soldiers escorting them lined up expectantly with the horses in front of the wide-eyed stablemen. There was a second of hesitation before Dennet waved toward the stable. "This way," he said, deciding that if the Qunari wanted to do all the work and dispense with the usual fancy talk, it was just fine with him. Bull had no doubts that he'd get along well with the soldiers. All that mattered to them all was getting the job done.

Kaaras led the way to the hall without waiting, Cullen on his right and Josephine on his left. The three Qunari followed, Bull on Rasaan’s left, still holding her hand, although more discreetly.

Their eyes met, and she squeezed his fingers gently, her lips stretching in a tender smile. They didn't need words to convey how much they had missed each other and how happy they were to be together again. Less worried about appearances, Bull frankly smirked at her, knowing that it came as sultry considering how much he just wanted to ravish her here and now. She blushed and looked away, which made him chuckle.

"Do not distract Rasaan, Hissrad," the Arishok rebuked. "I need her mind in working order to handle the bas."

"My mind is always working, Arishok," she replied, quickly recovering.

"I can confirm that. She needs more than a little teasing to get her derailed. You're safe with her counsel, Arishok."

"What is their stance on the alliance?" The army leader asked abruptly. Bull couldn't guess if it was because the previous subject bothered him or bored him.

"They have reservations," Bull admitted. "The Ambassador worries this would unsettle their allies and the Chantry, although she's quite enthused about being the firsts to get an alliance with the Qun. The Inquisitor has doubts about your motivations. The Commander and the Spymaster appreciate what you have to offer, but they're careful."

The Arishok grunted in understanding.

"We can work with this," Rasaan said serenely. They reached the upper courtyard, and she noticed the Chargers leaning against a wall, staring indiscreetly. She stopped. Krem, who was standing the closest, straightened. “Lieutenant. Are the Chargers well recovered from the Storm Coast?”

“Yes, Ma- Rasaan. Everyone is fine.”

“Excellent. I’m looking forward to seeing you spar with the Arishok’s soldiers.”

“Wh-what?” Krem stuttered.

Rasaan was already walking up the stairs to the hall, apparently oblivious to the Chargers’ sudden agitation.

Bull snorted. “Harsh, kadan.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You were after all already planning to use the opportunity to test your subordinates, weren’t you?”

There was a slight undercurrent of steel under her apparent humor. A warning. Bull glanced briefly at the Arishok, who appeared unconcerned by their conversation. Maybe he was. If anyone was going to doubt the Chargers, it wasn’t him but Bull’s direct superiors, who were now under Rasaan’s guidance.

“Yes, of course,” Bull replied automatically, already thinking of the ramifications.

They stayed quiet as they stepped into the castle. Rasaan looked up at the ceiling in interest, completely ignoring all the onlookers staring and gawking at them (and her in particular: she was the first female Qunari that most of them had ever seen).

“This place is quite interesting,” she noted distractedly.

“Solas might be able to tell you more about it,” Bull said, knowing her well enough to translate the simple sentence into an “I want to know everything about it”.

“The elf apostate, yes? The one who knows more than any other bas on the Fade?”

“Yes. He doesn’t like the Qun much, I warn you.”

“Oh, I foresee philosophical debates. How exciting,” she said happily, grinning.

If he didn’t know her so well, he might have thought that her show of delight was entirely genuine. It took him a few seconds to realize that she was exaggerating for the onlookers’ sake. By now, they were all looking at her rather than at the stony Arishok. From her attire to her behavior, everything was chosen to focus the stares on her. It wasn’t the Ashkaari he had known in Kirkwall, the introvert woman who didn’t like to make herself conspicuous. This was an Ambassador of the Qun, one who needed to show to foreigners who had only heard rumors of their people that the Qunari were more than soldiers determined to conquer the world.  By her simple appearance and behavior, she was challenging their preconceptions.

It was working.

Bull caught sight of Solas, Dorian and Vivienne, watching together. He had no doubt that somehow the two humans managed to comment on Rasaan’s clothes with some kind of “at least, she dresses better than you” addressed to the elf. It would be immediately followed by a review of Qunari fashion with its qualities and flaws. Those two were predictable. Their first judgment was always superficial, even if it would be amended later on. Solas was more cautious. While he had approved of Rasaan’s intervention at the Storm Coast, he was extremely dubious about the alliance. He met Bull’s eyes and nodded politely before leaving the crowded hall.

The Inquisitor led them into the War Room, where they found some peace at last. Two persons were already waiting for them inside.

“Let me introduce our Spymaster, Lady Leliana, and I believe you already know Master Tethras. We asked him to join us for his insight,” Josephine explained.

Before Rasaan could reply to Josephine, the Arishok asked: “Shall we expect rain even under your roof, Leliana?”

To their surprise, the Spymaster laughed at the jibe and pushed back her cowl. “It’s good to see you, Sten.”

“Likewise. One less incompetent to worry about.”

“Higher praise has never be told by a Qunari,” Leliana replied cheerfully. “Welcome Arishok.”

The Arishok nodded before glancing at Varric. “Dwarf. You always find yourself in the most troublesome places.”

Varric groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Which is a good thing considering your talent for words. I do look forward to your retelling of the story of Ath Velanis as well as the tale of the Inquisition,” Rasaan said.

“Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“That I read the Tale of the Champion? Most certainly. The Arishok did too. It’s a new favorite in Par Vollen.”

Varric gaped at her. “You’re kidding me. The Qunari read it?”

“Yes. Considering that it is one of the few bas texts which don’t demonize the Qun and relate part of our history in a truthful although slightly exaggerated way, it is a reading approved and recommended for all Qunari.”

Flabbergasted, Varric was going to ask more when he met the Inquisitor’s eye and cleared his throat. “We’ll definitely talk about this, later.” He muttered to himself: “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Josephine chose some papers left on the War Table and started the meeting: “We have gone through your proposal for the alliance and agree with your terms considering what you may offer to the Inquisition. Did you receive our reply on the matter?”

“Yes,” Rasaan confirmed, pulling back her cloak to show a small bag from which she took a letter. “We agree with your demands.”

“You… do?” Josephine stumbled, clearly surprised that they didn’t want to negotiate on anything. That wasn’t how Orlais (or anyone else for the matter) conducted negotiations. First drafts were never accepted as such, there always was at least some nitpicking involved, adding exceptions to rules and what not… If you didn’t negotiate, you appeared too eager. Even Ferelden had learned to get used to this frustrating habit.

The Qunari couldn’t care less about bas customs, and Bull felt the need to explain it before Josephine imagined the worst. “Qunari don’t negotiate as a rule, Josie. We’re straightforward about alliances. If what you offer is okay then it is and that’s it.”

“So you won’t proselytize in Skyhold, with any member of the Inquisition or their allies, or while involved in an Inquisition mission ?” Kaaras insisted.

“No, we won’t,” Rasaan replied calmly.

When she didn’t try to say more despite the Inquisitor’s scepticism, Varric cleared his throat. “The Qunari made a similar promise to the Viscount of Kirkwall when they arrived in the city,” he explained, “and they kept to it.”

“Dozens of Kirkwallers converted to the Qun!” Cullen objected.

“Yes,” Rasaan confirmed, “but we didn’t look for them. They looked for us.” She leaned slightly against the table to look directly at the Commander. “They had lost their way, their hope, their purpose. They were intrigued by the Qun. They chose to learn about it and to embrace it, purely of their own volition. As Varric stated, no Qunari went through the streets of Kirkwall with the purpose to convert its inhabitants. If they wished to learn, however, we didn’t turn them away and we never will.”

Kaaras nodded. “Alright.”

“Inquisitor!” Cullen protested.

“No. That’s fair,” Kaaras said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “When I was a kid, I used to hear that the Qun was evil from the Chantry’s clerics. I asked my mum and she said…” He shifted on his feet, looking up to the light coming from the windows. His voice took the soft tone of reminiscence. “That the Qun gave equal purpose when the Chantry gave elusive hope. You can’t deny a man purpose or hope but most will value one over the other. It doesn’t make them evil but different. To deny them the right to choose is the evildoing, and both are guilty of it. Accept both and you’ll find peace.” He glanced at them all and, embarrassed, shifted with his arms behind his back. “The Inquisition isn’t part of the Chantry. We endeavor to accept all races and treat them equally. I say we shall do so with all faiths as well. What anyone chooses to believe in is their private choice. As long as both Chantry and Qun do not interfere with the Inquisition’s business they will be tolerated.”

Silence welcomed his speech for a few seconds before Josephine nodded in approval. She wrote quickly on her clipboard, no doubt trying to record the Inquisitor’s words. “It would be appropriate. The Chantry won’t approve, of course, but dwarves and Dalishes approve of religious neutrality.”

“We shall all value acceptance of others’ differences,” Leliana agreed thoughtfully, the subject apparently giving her food for thoughts.

The Commander sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you think that’s best…”

The Arishok and Rasaan didn’t bother to comment, but Bull noted that both of them, especially Rasaan, were staring at Kaaras more intently than before. She seemed… contemplative and curious. Somehow, the Inquisitor had scored points with them.

“If we all agree, then I shall prepare a first draft of our alliance for tomorrow,” Josephine offered. “We’ll discuss the finer points when we’ll all be rested.”

“Agreed,” the Arishok said, “I shall explore your stronghold in the meantime.”

“I’ll show you around!” Leliana immediately offered with a mischievous grin.

Somehow, that made the Arishok sigh. “As you wish.”

“I’ll handle Rasaan,” Bull offered without waiting, pushing her toward the doors. “See you tomorrow, Boss.”

“Hissrad,” she protested once they were alone in the hallway. “That wasn’t very…”

“Bite me, kadan,” he growled gently, still pushing her. “No, wait. Bite you.” He bent down to reach the tip of her ear, grazing the sensitive skin.

She squeaked and walked quicker. “Not publicly!” she hissed, her cheeks blushing brightly. She glanced at him above her shoulder, noticed his smirk and looked away with a smile. “Fine, fine. Where are your rooms?”

He chuckled and went to embrace her, but she slapped his arms away.

“Hands off until we have some privacy!”

Needless to say, Bull took the fastest shortcut and ignored anyone who tried to talk to him. He avoided entering the tavern because it would have involved more talking and delay, instead passing by the battlements. When they were in his rooms, he locked every door before finally being allowed to catch her.

He lifted her by her thighs, allowing her to lock her legs around his hips while her hands cupped his face. Her lips brushed his gently, but he needed much more. He was parched for her. He walked to a wall and pressed her against it to be able to focus on kissing her rather than holding her. He needed to taste her, to devour her, to relish her.

He only realized how frantic he was when he noticed her soft humming and petting. Her fingers were gently stroking his skin, all around his face and horns, and he hadn’t even taken note. He stopped licking her neck (and when had he even started? damn, he was slipping) to rest his forehead against her cheek.

She kissed his temple, ear and cheek. Gentle butterfly kisses, patient and sweet.

“Vashedan. Sorry, kadan.”

Humming, she scratched the base of his horns, getting a groan out of him. “It’s alright. Take a deep breath,” she guided him, waiting for him to obey before continuing. “Hold it for five seconds… and let it out, as slow as you’re comfortable with... Very good. Again… Breathe in... Hold... And out.... One last time… Excellent.” She dropped a kiss on his nose before poking him between the eyes. “Now you can take me to bed, kadan.”

He didn’t know how she did it. When he felt like he was going to explode, like he was a mess bigger than what his body could contain, she managed to see it and pull him back together, gently guiding every piece of him at its rightful place. It wasn’t enough, not yet, but he knew that, as soon as she had grounded him with a good round of sex, she would take her time to untangle all these little knots that had accumulated over the years. He needed it.

Oh, how he had missed her...

Chapter Text

 Leaning on an elbow, Rasaan was exploring her lover’s body attentively, taking note of every change, every scar, every detail of his tattoo. She traced the ink’s path, mesmerized. She hadn’t expected this to fascinate her so much, but she found that on Hissrad the sight was quite dashing.

He shifted, grunting as he woke. She looked up to his face and the scared eye-socket. Her fingers brushed his cheek and eyebrow, softly going around the eye.

A press of his fingers on her thigh let her know he was awake.

“Does it hurt you still?” she asked.

“Sometimes. Like most scars, there are some days worse than others.”

She hummed in understanding before leaning down to kiss the mark going down his cheek. “It pained me so, to read of it, and my heart aches still. But, as I thought, you’re quite dashing, kadan.”

“Yeah?” He opened his good eye and smirked. “Gives me a pirate look, doesn’t it?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Certainly not. Pirates are uncouth. You’re the picture of bravery.”

He laughed, and she worried for a second that he mocked her, but he pulled her close and kissed her temple. “I missed you, kadan.”

“So did I,” she breathed. She spread her fingers over his cheeks and slowly leaned her forehead against his. “So much.” Her voice failed her before she could say more, tears coming to her eyes and throat tightening.

He held her tighter, and they breathed the same air for a few minutes. His big hand smoothed her hair from her horns to the back of her neck.

“There are a million things we need to talk about,” he said.

She hummed in agreement.

“I’ll start with the most important question.”

She tilted her head questioningly.

“Did you meet anyone better at sex than me?” he asked, dead serious.

She groaned in annoyance and slapped his pectoral before he burst into laughter and rolled them over.

“You said you met the Kithshok a few weeks ago. Was he still good? Uh?” he teased her, dropping kisses all over her face, hands and arms when she tried to push him away. His humor was catching, and she giggled at his antics and the slight tickling he bestowed on her belly. “This is serious, kadan. I need to know if I have to up my game and how.”

She slapped her hands on each side of his face and held him to catch his eye. “None of them made me laugh.”

The scarred corner of his lips tilted up smugly. He leaned on an elbow and raised a hand to tenderly brush her hair around her horns. His eyes darkened as he tilted his head and asked: “Did you ever laugh?”

“Kadan….”

“Don’t. Just… Don’t try to downplay it. A year in Seheron? Then eight months of epistolary withdrawal? How was that appropriate?”

“It wasn’t,” she agreed easily. “The previous Ariqun wasn’t exactly fair. But it is over, kadan, and I would rather not remember those difficult times, not when the present is much more agreeable.”

He kissed the fingers brushing his skin and nodded in understanding. He could relate. He wasn’t fond of remembering his own experiences in Seheron. If she ever wished to speak of it, he would ensure that she felt comfortable doing so with him later. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but insist on one detail. He rested his hand on her belly, where it was slightly less firm than in his memories and the light skin showed stretch marks. “What about this?”

Rasaan looked down at his touch and put her hand over his, intertwining their fingers. She explained calmly: “I was enlisted for procreation after Seheron.”

Hissrad nodded in understanding. “Did it go well?”

“The baby was a healthy boy,” she confided with a small smile.

“Well done,” he approved. “What about you?”

She tilted her head and didn’t meet his eye.

“Kadan. I can calculate. You got my letters during your pregnancy, probably last trimester. Was it related?”

“I was… not well. A form of soul sickness,” she admitted with a shaking voice. “Your letters were granted to me in the hope that it would relieve the ache.”

He frowned and leaned closer. “Did it?”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I thought… I knew they barred me from receiving letters at first, but I hadn’t realized it was still in effect at my return. I thought…” She swallowed with difficulty, tears coming back to her eyes. “I thought you had stopped writing when you didn’t receive any reply.”

He swore under his breath and sat back, pulling her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face to his neck, holding back tears.

“Never, kadan. I never stopped.”

“I understood that when they gave them all to me, and it lifted a great weight from my soul. The thought of you gave me strength in Seheron. I couldn’t… I thought I had lost you, and with everything else, it was too much.”

He kissed her forehead. “It’s over now, kadan. I’ve got you.”

She nodded and sniffled.

Rocking them gently back and forth, Hissrad waited before asking to change the subject: “Did you know the sire?”

She hummed. “The Kithshok, previous Arishok.”

“Seriously?”

“It was his fifth. He’s a popular genitor, although less after his demotion.”

“You saw him recently, right?”

“Yes. He asked after my health and the baby’s birth, but he didn’t want to know his gender.”

“Professional as always.”

“Of course.”

Hissrad nodded thoughtfully before kissing her forehead. “So… my Chargers. What do you think?”

“An eclectic bunch. I shall not judge them before spending time with them and seeing them in action.”

Hissrad smiled with a little huff. “You didn’t change.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Should you really draw such a conclusion so soon? You might be surprised.”

“I like surprises.”

oOo

“I hate surprises,” Krem grumbled a few hours later.

Bull patted his shoulder distractedly, mostly focused on Skinner’s fight against a Karasaad, a melee warrior. “You were warned yesterday.”

“You call that a warning? Geez, Chief, we’re mercenaries, not Chevaliers.”

“Don’t fret. They know that.”

“Do they?” Krem asked, sceptical, as Skinner avoided a blow strong enough to behead a horse.

“They don’t expect you to win, just to hold your own.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” Krem drawled as he rubbed his arms. As second in command, he had gone first against the Qunari. He could barely feel his arms anymore, especially his shield arm, which had taken blows that reverberated all the way to his spine. He had managed to keep his feet under him, but it had been a small feat. One more minute of single combat and he would have crumbled. That was probably why the Arishok had ended the fight at that time.

None of the Chargers had been able to do better than him, mostly because their combat styles were different and didn’t rely on blunt force (that was Bull’s speciality).

The Arishok called back the soldier fighting Skinner. None of their faces let them know if they were impressed or not by the Chargers. They didn’t look too scornful, at least.

“I believe there is one more of your Chargers, Hissrad?” Rasaan said from her position on the Arishok’s right. “The one called Dalish?”

Krem tried not to react. Dalish could not compete against the Qunari, not when her strength was magic. He had been worried about that, but the Chief had told him he would take care of it. Showing his worry would betray whatever was planned.

“Sorry, kadan, Dalish hurt herself. She won’t be in fighting condition for a while,” Bull said, unflappable.

Sitting on a crate a few steps away, Dalish did her best to look like a tired cripple. It was a bit over the top.

“I see. Very well. This concludes this training session then. Thank you all for your cooperation.” Rasaan nodded, smiled, and left with the Arishok and his men for more traditional training.

“Did you just lie to your kadan?” Krem hissed between his teeth.

The Iron Bull looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I earned my name, Krem.” His lieutenant knew perfectly well what ‘Hissrad’ meant. He had asked, he and all the other Chargers.

“I thought the Qunari hated lies?”

“Some of us need them to do our job.”

“What happens if Rasaan learns you lied to her?”

“She’ll make a disappointed face at me, ask why, and let it go when I say it’s necessary for the good management of my assets —that’s you, by the way.”

“Just like that?”

“Blowing things up out of proportion is a bas’ speciality. Qunari like to think they’re better than that.”

“Are they?”

“Rasaan is.”

“Does Rasaan have any flaws?” Krem asked, deadpan.

“No.” The Iron Bull went to make a round of congratulations to his troops for not embarrassing them all.

Krem tilted his head before following. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe. Or maybe she’s the reincarnation of Koslun. I like to think so.”

“Do Qunari believe in reincarnations?”

“Nope.”

“Damn it, Chief!”

oOo

Josephine offered to conduct the negotiations during lunch. Bull jogged to catch up to Rasaan as she went through the Ambassador’s office.

“So, the Chargers?”

“The Arishok approved of their fitness. I’ll let your handlers know your troops are a good asset.”

“Good,” Bull murmured, freed from his last doubts.

Rasaan’s bodyguards opened the door and checked for any danger before letting them through, staying outside. They were the last to arrive. A new table had been brought to the room for the meal. With only eight seats, it kept them all close together. The Inquisitor and the Arishok were at both ends of the table. Rasaan sat to the Arishok’s right and Bull on her other side. Varric completed this side while the advisors were opposite, Leliana on the Arishok’s left, Cullen next to the Inquisitor, Josephine in the middle.

“Thank you for joining us,” the Ambassador greeted them before sending the signal for the servants to begin.

The first part of the meal was spent sharing information and observations regarding the Inquisition and past dealings.

“So what happened to the Rasaan before you?” Varric asked her.

“She has been reassigned.”

“Did she do something wrong?”  

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh, you know... We didn’t exactly leave in good terms, she and I, so I’m glad to see you instead, but I’m curious… for a friend.”

“The pirate,” Arishok commented for Rasaan’s benefit who tilted her head in understanding.

“She was unfit to become Ariqun and thus unable to continue with her duties as Rasaan.”

“Does that mean you’re fit to become Ariqun?” Josephine asked, interested in learning more about the Qun.

“That is for the Triumvirate to determine when the day might come, if it ever does, but I’m considered a satisfactory substitute at the Arishok’s side.”

“Is she, Arishok?” Leliana asked with a mischievous smile.

The Arishok threw her an unimpressed look. “Rasaan’s service is an honor to the Qun. Her wisdom guides the Antaam. But what the future holds for her, like for us all, can’t be surmised. We shall move to the matter at hand.”

“Oh, but Arishok, you haven’t tried out the dessert yet,” Leliana commented teasingly.

The Arishok froze at the plate set in front of him.

Rasaan glanced at it curiously. “What is it?”

“Cookies,” Hissrad answered.

“The Arishok’s favorite dessert,” Leliana said with a satisfied smile.

“Bas dessert,” the Arishok tempered but didn’t deny. He reached for one without hesitation.

Since Hissrad took one too, Rasaan followed their example. The sweet was novel and satisfactory. She could see its appeal, but she ate it in small bites to better appreciate it.

“What about the book?” Varric asked, indifferent to the cookies he had eaten many times before. “The Tome of Koslun? Were the Qunari happy about getting it back?”

“Of course,” Rasaan replied.

Noticing her tenseness, Hissrad glanced at her curiously.

The Arishok changed the subject before anyone else could pick on Rasaan’s uneasiness.

They agreed on the final details of the alliance quickly enough (for such a diplomatic event, it was probably a time record in the south). The Qunari left the Herald and his advisors to discuss. Instead of going back to the Chargers, Hissrad followed Rasaan and the Arishok to their rooms.

“What’s going on with the Tome?” he asked as soon as they were alone.

Rasaan didn’t reply. Avoiding his eyes, she went to look out of the window. The Arishok sat down on the bed and stayed quiet as well.

Alright. Hissrad could do silence. It had been a while since he had to do it, but he could do the Qunari way. He shifted his feet for a wide stance, crossed his arms, and prepared to wait.

After a few minutes, the Arishok glanced at him. Leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, he studied Hissrad for a while before tilting his head toward Rasaan. “Tell him.”

She turned around, leaned back against the wall and crossed her hands. She explained: “After we retrieved it, the Tome of Koslun was brought back to the Ariqun. It was meant to be repaired if need be, studied and then displayed in the Great Library of Qunandar, as it used to be. The people were impatient for it.”

“What happened?”

“Five years after the Tome was brought back, the Ariqun still insisted it wasn’t ready to be displayed yet. The people got impatient. The corporations asked for the Arigena’s intervention. The Arigena demanded to see the Tome. The Ariqun refused, stating that it was too delicate to be left in untrained hands.”

“Oh, I don’t like where this is going.”

“Some months later, the Arishok came back to Qunandar. The matter was brought to his attention by the Arigena and together they asked to see the Tome. The Ariqun refused once again…”

*

“This has been going for too long!” The Arigena stated, infuriated. “The Tome of Koslun has been missing for centuries. It needs to be brought back where it belongs, where the people can learn and grow from its wisdom!”

The Arishok turned away from the squabbling between the two other members of the Triumvirate. He had returned to Par Vollen hoping for some peace among its walls. This was displeasing. He walked to the windows of the round room where the Triumvirate often met at the top of the main dome of Qunandar. He glanced outside at the wooden pathways. He had missed his home’s architecture, unlike anything the bas could produce. Resting a hand on the windowsill, he tapped it with a finger.

“Centuries in the hands of the bas heavily damaged its pages. The Tome can only be consulted by specialists,” the Ariqun was insisting.

“Fine.”

Arigena and Ariqun turned toward the Arishok. The first looked frustrated, the second triumphant. The Arishok watched them both impassively.

“It should be consulted by a specialist, then. Ashkaari, temporary Rasaan in Kirkwall, the first Qunari to have touched the Tome of Koslun at its retrieval, will judge of the Ariqun’s advancement.”

“Excellent idea, Arishok”, the Arigena approved with a sharp smile.

The Ariqun looked like he had swollen a bitter pill. He tried to find a reason why it couldn’t happen, but the Arishok ignored him. He left the room, asked one of his men to bring Ashkaari, and walked to the Great Temple, where the Tome was kept.

Ashkaari joined the Triumvirate in the sacred Archives and saluted them. They weren’t alone. The archivists had stopped their work, and soldiers and priests had gathered, eager to get a glance of the Tome if they could.

“Ashkaari”, the Arishok greeted her. “You were the first to see the Tome of Koslun in Kirkwall. You studied it. Correct?”

She bowed her head. “Yes.”

“What was your appreciation of its condition?” the Arigena asked.

“It was in a relatively good state. There was some water damage, certainly due to the shipwreck, but it had probably been protected in a box as only the edges seemed to have suffered.”

“In your opinion, was it possible to fix it in the last six years?” the Arigena insisted.

“I’m no specialist,” Ashkaari tempered, all too aware of the glare of the Ariqun.

“Speak up,” the Arishok demanded.

“Yes.”

“You’re to assess the condition of the Tome,” the Arishok ordered, shifting to let her pass by him toward an unassuming door.

In complete silence, Ashkaari walked to it and tried the handle. It didn’t move.

“Ariqun. The key,” the Arishok demanded.

The Ariqun threw the key to Ashkaari’s feet, who had to bend down to retrieve it under a bookshelf. She didn’t comment and opened the door to be done as fast as possible with the ordeal.

The scriptorium was small and without window. With the light coming from behind her, Ashkaari could see a thick book on a desk and that was all. She turned around to ask for a candle. It was brought to her by a soldier before she could speak. The whole audience stayed in complete silence as she walked forward and slowly opened the book.

For several minutes, she studied the pages. She put the candle down, raised the book and tilted it under the light. Finally, she put it down with a deep breath. She took the candle and walked back into the adjacent room.

Under the watchful eyes of the Triumvirate, she licked her lips and announced:

“It’s not the Tome of Koslun.”

The following outcries were deafening.

“SILENCE!” The Arishok roared. Once he was obeyed, he demanded of Ashkaari: “Explain!”

“It is not the Tome of Koslun we reclaimed in Kirkwall. It’s a copy, at an advanced stage but unfinished and… modified.”

“Nonsense!” The Ariqun replied, stepping forward and reaching for Ashkaari. He was abruptly pulled back by his golden necklace toward an enraged Arishok.

“You, stay quiet.” The Arishok hissed into the Ariqun’s face before glancing toward Ashkaari. “You, continue.”

“Some words, sentences, or even whole pages have been changed from what I have had the honor to read in Kirkwall. It’s an edited and censored version of the original Tome.”

“For what purpose?” the Arigena asked.

Ashkaari glanced at her superior officer, the archivists and the priests standing around them. She breathed out slowly before replying: “I’d say to better serve the skewed conception of the Qun advocated by the Ariqun.” Before anyone could ask her to explain or try to interrupt once again, she forged on: “Since the Tome was lost, due to the lack of complete copies of it, the Tamassran had to teach and study the Qun with only parts of Koslun’s words for guidance. It was inevitable that we strayed from the true path. I noticed it at first read. There is no doubt that the Ariqun and many of the archivists gathered here noticed it too. But instead of changing our teachings to bring us back on the right path… he decided to change the Tome.”

*

“Oh, shit,” Hissrad breathed. He had sat down next to the Arishok with a foot lifted on a stool to relieve his bad ankle. “That’s messed up. What happened then?”

“The Ariqun was found guilty of high treason, along with several other members of the priests. They were sentenced to take qamek.”

“The former Rasaan too, right?”

“Yes.”

Hissrad nodded in understanding. “Reassigned. That was appropriately vague.”

“I’m aware that the bas don’t like the use of qamek.”

“Hypocrisy,” the Arishok commented. “Here, high treason leads to torture and death. Is their waste of lives better?”

“The Tome of Koslun was found, intact, and is currently displayed in the Great Library,” Rasaan continued. “The Tamassrans all had to follow lectures to bring them back on the right path.”

“Who is the new Ariqun?”

“One of the archivists. She protected the Tome and was at the origin of the movement asking for the Arigena’s intervention. Her work was essential to the discovery of the Ariqun’s treason.”

“Sounds like you were too,” Hissrad commented pointedly.

“I was but a tool to bring forth the truth,” she replied humbly.

“And you didn’t want to be,” the Arishok pointed out.

“There was that,” she admitted without shame.

Behind the Arishok’s back, Hissrad winked at her in understanding. She turned around to hide a smile.

After all, as Ariqun she wouldn’t have been able to come and see him in the South.

oOo

A few days later, the Arishok and his retinue were to leave Skyhold. Hissrad and Rasaan made their goodbyes in his room.

“I’ll miss you, kadan.”

“And I, you,” she replied with a soft smile. “But we shall see each other again soon, kadan. With this alliance, the Arishok won’t stray far from the south. We’ll have occasions to see each other regularly, I do not doubt it.”

“You think it will last? The alliance?”

“The Tome of Koslun… changed a few things. Whether that change is long-lasting and whether the bas would know to take advantage of it, that, I can’t tell, but it is currently to our benefit to keep this alliance going for as long as possible.”

They kissed for a long time before Hissrad escorted her to the lower courtyard for her departure.

As she predicted, they had more opportunities over the years to see each other.

Two years after the defeat of Corypheus, History was marked by an act without precedent: a Qunari delegation was received by Empress Celene following the Exalted Council (during which the Inquisitor disappeared mysteriously for many hours before deciding to disband the Inquisition). This official meeting between the Arishok and the Orlesian Empress, guided by the Fereldan King Alistair, sparked much gossip in all the diplomatic spheres of Thedas. It was said to be surprisingly cordial and facilitated by quite an impressive selection of cakes.

Whether the change would last… only time would tell.