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midnightwind · 22 days ago

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Clipped Wings

Clipped Wings is a slow burn Rookanis fic (our main man and his +1 will be appearing in later chapters) taking place right before the events of the game up until the final scene fates willing.

Summary: Every hero has to start somewhere. For Mirenna de Riva that somewhere is in an alley she wasn't supposed to be in, fighting Antaam she wasn't supposed to be dealing with.

Word Count: 6076

Read on AO3

Chapter One: The Botched Job

The air was acrid, the smoke from the many Antaam bonfires stinging her nose as she clung to the trellis. It was doing a damn fine job drowning out the usual smell of the canals, smothering the food stalls still fighting for coin in the markets. Even the cafes struggled to combat the smoke at times. Treviso had turned into a smoldering mess, all fire and gunpowder. The Antaam checkpoints choked the once beautiful maze of alleys and canal paths, ugly slabs of wood casting a harsh reminder of the occupation on the streets. There were attempts to reclaim them, of course, the splashes of purple and black art serving as the calling cards of the Crows. A few might have even been painted by her hand, but they did little to inspire faith. Things looked bad.

The Crows had begun gathering in the Cantori Diamond to make plans, a strange cooperation to be seen from an order that would kill a House for sneezing wrong. It wasn’t quite war, but the occupation was an affront to their honor. Treviso, all of Antiva, was theirs. So how did an order of assassins deal with it? Apparently by spending days upon weeks discussing where to hit the Antaam, sending out small teams that seemed to more annoy the invaders than actually uproot them, and so much yelling. It was why she was out in the city instead of back at the nest. No open contracts in her name meant she had a little free time and getting away from the Talons arguing over what was the more worthy target was a blessing. As if Viago and Teia in the same room wasn’t exhausting enough, having the First Talon looming in each meeting was terrifying. Just thinking of the woman sent a shiver down her spine.

Shaking herself slightly, she turned away from the grim image of Antiva and pulled herself swiftly to the rooftop. She liked being on the up high, above everything and feeling the wind wrap around herself. Through the haze of smoke she could still see the stars shining down, the moons bright and full. A fine night for a run. If Viago wanted to drag her into another pointless meeting that ended with her giving an Antaam patrol a run for their money, well, tough shit. One of the fledglings would have to catch her first. Or better yet, they could do the job.

There was a daunting gap between buildings caused by the canal that she wanted to finally vault. It gave her a goal that at least felt attainable in the now. Better than lurking in the casino rafters waiting for Viago to send her away when she got too annoying. There was a joke to be made about putting a crow in a cage that caused a wry smile to brush her lips. If she could combine it with a pun she could torture Teia with it at least. But she had a date with the yawning abyss to keep.

A moment of quick stretches and deep breathing had her whirling thoughts finally settle. A stillness came over her before she bolted into motion. The roof flew past in a blur, her feet barely touching the ground as she vaulted balconies and ran along felled beams. She loved the feeling of her stomach dropping when she jumped over the streets and canals, a wild euphoria in the action. Her magic hummed in her veins, quick bursts pushing her a little higher into the air, giving her a bit longer in the jump. A proper burning in her lungs was building as she reached her goal, a sudden darkness of empty air looming ahead. Her destination had a decent balcony one storey down and she had been landing there on each attempt. She was always just short of the roof proper. Usually she would stop before the jump, double check she had a clear landing, then give herself the length of the roof as windup.

Tonight she wasn't stopping. Letting the momentum of the night’s run carry her, she sailed into the waiting darkness. There was a long moment where it felt she simply hung in the air, no tether or fear of falling. As if she truly were a crow flying in the sky. Then gravity latched onto her. She was going to miss again. Frustration had her teeth grinding, but she wasn't one to give up. Magic pooled in her hands as she thrust them down, a bright light and resounding pop following the push of energy. It threw her back up into the air, the lip of the roof finally appearing under her, but now she was wholly unprepared to land.

With her hands stuck near her knees, she had to twist midair to avoid landing on them. Instead she landed on her side, her shoulder and hip taking the brunt of the impact as she rolled to a stop. Flopping to her back she pulled in gasping breaths, a wide smile on her lips. She raised her hands into the air in victory, wincing as her bruised shoulder protested. She'd probably regret it in the morning, but the exhilaration was worth it.

Her blood ran cold in the next second as the sounds of clinking chains and Antaam grunts echoed up from the street below. She flipped to her stomach, inching to the rooftop's edge to peer down. There was a patrol of the horned bastards leading a dejected train of people in chains. Slaves. They were making slaves of her people. It was only a handful of them, but she felt rage beginning to eat away at her thoughts. Six Antaam guards, half leading and half following. Two artillerists, three axe wielders, and a shield guard. The gunners pulled up the rear and the shield guard seemed to be leading.

Before she could fully process her actions, she was pulling out throwing daggers coated in poison. It was a paralyzing agent, a bit slow to take action but debilitating. Three found their mark as she pushed off the roof, a fourth going wide. Viago would be furious at that if he had been watching. Mageknife in hand, she fell on the farthest gunman. She buried the blade in the soft meat between the head and shoulder, angling it into the jugular. He swung back wildly and she let the movement throw her as the Antaam crashed to his knees, clutching at the gushing wound. As her feet hit the ground, magic pooled in her heels and launched her forward at the next target. That one was gifted a dragging slice from kidney to chest as she spun around him before burying it to the hilt in his heart.

That spent the last of the surprise, the third warrior swinging his axe at her head. She left the mageknife stuck in her last victim, falling to the ground to sweep at the man's legs. It felt like trying to kick a wall, pain lancing up her own leg. The soft meat behind his knee buckled slightly as the swing carried him in a half circle and she scrambled to unsheathe a mundane blade. Her head tilted slightly as a loop of chain suddenly appeared around the Antaam's throat, pulling back heavily. As he scrambled to tear it away, to slip his fingers under the links and pull in a breath, she buried a dagger in his heart and a second in his belly for good measure. She was wrenching her mageknife free before the body hit the ground. The helpful prisoner was grasping at the daggers left in the other corpse, giving her a quick lopsided smile. He was an older dwarf, dressed in expensive looking traveling clothes that had seen better days.

“Lovely evening, isn't it?” He smiled, finally freeing a blade to clutch in his shackled hands.

Whatever response she had wanted to give was lost as a shield bashed her bodily into the wall. She bounced painfully off the building, her bruised hip and shoulder screaming. Her ribs were also protesting from the impact, a few at least cracked if not broken. It made her head swim and she staggered back to her feet with swaying motions as the shield guard's spear lashed out. It cut a burning tear along her cheek from mouth to ear. Warm blood rushed out to meet the cool night air and she absently thanked the Maker he had cut below her eyes. Her dazed eyes watched the remaining two warriors squeeze past him to start swinging at her, one grabbing the length of chain between the dwarf's hands and tossing him like a toy back into the other slaves.

She had managed to hit the axe wielders with her throwing daggers earlier, but she saw the third one stuck uselessly in the shield guard's armor. That made things harder. Tiring out the warriors until the poison took effect was one thing, doing that while also avoiding the charging shield and biting spear was a whole other issue. A trembling smile stretched across her lips. She always had to make her jobs so complicated.

Dancing back, she ducked under the weapon’s swing. The side streets of Treviso weren't made to accommodate the Qunari let alone their massive weapons. That meant they couldn't reach the usual devastating speed. One upside to living in a city that used canals more than roads. It also made it harder for the two warriors to stand side by side to hunt her down. Not that they didn't try, the blades biting at her leathers as she backpedaled faster and faster. She couldn't keep that up, partly because she was getting tired and partly because she was running out of side street. The main thoroughfare would be a death sentence. Thankfully, the stupid bastards had erected their ugly barricades with chunky beams. The wood stuck out with tantalizing footholds and she used them to scramble her way up to the connecting beams of the buildings, bright bursts of energy propelling her above their swings. She peppered the warriors with her orb, the magic sparking along their flesh. They were slowing down, steadily, but she still needed a little more time. Dancing above their heads was definitely an improvement.

An agonizing blast to her shoulder spun her bodily, landing heavily on the beams and scrambling to hold on to avoid falling. The spear had been thrown beautifully, she had to admit. And then a hand was wrapped around her dangling ankle and she was ripped from her perch and slammed into the cobbled street. Her breath left her in a strangled gasp, the world spotting black as her head cracked against stone. She could barely see the Antaam axe being leveled to swing cruelly down on her, but she grasped the warrior’s leg weakly. Her magic ripped through her mercilessly, an agonized scream slipping free. The electricity caused the Qunari to shudder and jerk, staggering back a step as she kept pouring it into him. His friend was struggling to raise his own weapon, the poison finally kicking in. Better late than gore on the sidewalk.

A crossbow bolt smashed into the frozen Antaam, followed by several more at a blinding speed. That seemed like a miracle, but she wasn't going to question it. Her mark finally crashed backwards as a smoking ruin and she sluggishly crawled to her feet. Just one more big bastard and then she could close her eyes like her body was screaming at her to do. She spat out blood, the metallic tang centering her. The shield guard had scooped up an ax, the weapon pointed at her, but the shield was turned away, facing back at the slaves. The dwarf from earlier had one shackle dangling and the strangest contraption she had ever seen in his hands. That explained the bolts, sort of. Now the Antaam was nervous. Nerves made people sloppy. Her orb flickered and jumped in her hand before settling into the form of a dagger. She held both up in front of her defensively, watching the man’s eyes dart side to side. Her shoulder was white hot pain, but she pushed it down and advanced slowly.

For his part, the guard wasted no time swinging at her. It earned him punching bolts from the dwarf, but it forced her on the back foot. Her blades bounced off his shield with grating strikes, the magic sparking and dancing along the metal. If she could get one proper hit with her mageknife, she could detonate the fizzing energy. He let out a grunt, his knee buckling as a heavy bolt punched into it. She hooked her crackling knife on the shield and tore it to the side, punching the mageknife into his chest. The magic sucked at the lightning sparking along his body before it exploded out of the blade. It threw her back and she landed heavily on the street. The heavy thud of the Qunari collapsing followed shortly after. With a giddy laugh of disbelief, she fell back to the street, blades clanging to the ground and smoking from the magic. And then a shadow fell over her and she almost screamed, about to let loose enough curses to kill a sister. Viago’s furious face loomed over her, a sharp knife in his hand.

“Mirenna de Riva, what have you done?” He hissed, voice laced with a cold rage.

She smudged a hand across her cheek, wincing as she carelessly touched the ugly cut. “Saved some civilians.”

His grip on her good arm was a sharp agony as he pulled her roughly to her feet. She leaned heavily on the wall the second he let go, head lolling to the brickwork. That definitely felt like a concussion. He was jabbing the knife towards her in the next instant and she watched it blandly. If he was going to kill her, that brief contact would have already sealed the deal. The knife felt almost comical and a weak laugh shook her shoulders. She winced at that, too.

“You idiot.” He was always good at making his voice sound like a whip. Usually felt like one, too. “You have no idea what you just stepped into.”

“An Antaam patrol? Vi, I think I can identify Qunari still.” Was she slurring her words? Probably fine.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up to the sky as if to ask the Maker why? “No, you reckless, idiot child. You just ruined weeks of planning.”

Oh. Missing those meetings he told her to show up for had probably been a bad idea. She glanced at the huddling group of civilians still laden with chains. The dwarf was using her dagger from earlier to pry at the locks, but it was slow going. The people were scared, but they also looked at her with deep gratitude. That caused a warm flame to flicker to life in her chest.

“Shit plan that sacrifices our people like that.”

The slap he whipped across her cheek cracked loudly in the night air. It caused her to stagger, knees buckling before she slid to the ground. Maker above, it left her ears ringing. She prodded the reddening flesh, more checking to make sure the skin hadn't broken under a hidden needle or some such. It would be like him to poison her for that offense, but no. He had simply hit her. He was feeling generous. Or maybe it was concern that was making him soft. A grin stumbled across her lips and she clawed at the wall, trying to stand. Her body had other plans, pulling her further to the ground. Oh, he'd hate that. He had slapped her unconscious.

She came to a few moments later, her world bobbing. Someone was carrying her. No, wait, someone had slung her on their back and was giving her a piggyback ride. Leather with sharp herby undertones tickled her nose. They smelled like home. She almost let out a slicing laugh of disbelief straight into Viago’s ear. Instead it was just a full body shaking wheeze. She felt his jaw twitch in displeasure.

“If you can laugh, you can walk.” He snapped.

“Poor excuse for a laugh in my opinion, sir.”

Who the fuck was that? She cast bleary eyes at the small form walking at Viago's side. It was that same dwarf who had helped her in the fight. His bizarre weapon was wrapped up in a blanket and hanging on his back. A shame, really, she wanted a good look at a crossbow with that kind of firepower. It'd be nice to have against the Antaam. He caught her eyes, giving a knowing smile.

“You liked Bianca’s work, huh?” He gestured back at the weapon. “One of a kind, sadly.”

She let out a little hum, her head lolling slightly. “Does that make me your Bianca right now, Vi?”

He dropped her suddenly, letting her crash to the street like a sack of potatoes. It set her body on fire and she gasped despite herself. He brushed his hands off on his leathers like he had been touching something filthy. She just lay there, letting the agony slowly ebb through her.

“I'd have to approve of your work, I think.” He offered dryly, looming over her again. “And I very much do not.”

He had such a knack for making his words hurt more than any knife. The sheer disappointment in his voice caused a gnawing pit to open in her stomach and she grimaced. Anyone else would be impressed a lone Crow had taken down a patrol and lived. Why couldn't he be like them? A heavy sigh escaped her as she struggled to sit up. Wouldn't be Viago if he gave her any kind of affection. Talons had to be hardasses and he had gotten a head start on that.

“I'm not going to apologize for saving people from slavery. Our people.” She huffed, standing shakily.

“Would you like to explain your reasoning to the other Talons? I'm sure they'd agree that saving a handful of strays justifies losing the intel of where and how the Antaam are shipping in their weapons and gaatlok. Of letting countless other citizens be taken and sold off because we don't know where they're being held. Of how we won't be able to strike at them like we planned because they will be waiting for it now.” His tone was pure ice.

She should have backed down at that, bowed out to his reasoning. Too bad logic had never been a close friend of hers. “I'm a stray, chalk it up to that.”

His hand twitched like he wanted to hit her again. Instead, he jabbed a finger at her face. “No, you are a Crow of House de Riva. Your every action is a reflection of your House. You have not only ruined weeks of planning between the Talons, but you may have jeopardized our standing among them.”

“Ohh,” her voice dripped with bitterness, “I'm sorry, I made you look bad. That is the greatest tragedy, you're right.”

That was a mistake, she could see it in the hard glint in his eyes. “I can't keep covering for you like this, Renn. The other Houses will want blood. How many blades must I deflect for your stupidity? How much more infighting must the Crows survive for your stubbornness? You claim it's for Antiva, but if that was true you'd keep your head down, report when told, and follow orders. You just want to play hero like a child while everyone else pays for it.”

Indignation flushed her cheeks. “Are you scolding me?”

“You act like a toddler who needs it.” He replied coolly.

“You want to act like my da so bad, go wander into the forest and get gutted like him.” She snarled, pushing past him to stalk towards the Diamond.

She had made it three steps before the regret set in, the thought of Viago dead sinking claws into her heart and leaving bloody gashes. She hated that she cared, hated how she started to turn around to try and take the words back. When her leg buckled, causing her to stagger instead, she wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Viago caught her arm before she could fall, forcibly keeping her standing. His face had the usual impassable scowl, the corner of his mouth twitching down as she hung there for a long moment. The words were stuck in her throat. So instead she yanked herself free, stumbling through the next few steps.

It was a long walk home, the air simmering between them. The queer dwarf followed along silently, though his brows were gently knit with concern as he glanced between the two of them periodically. Part of her wanted to ask why he, specifically, was trailing along and why it seemed like Viago was leading him straight to the Crow’s gathering place, but that would mean talking to Vi. She didn’t think she wanted to do that for the next week. When they reached the first trellis that started the road home, she hesitated.

“You gonna be able to climb that, kid?” The dwarf asked softly.

A cold calm shivered over her. “I’m a Crow.” She stated bluntly. “This is just another Tuesday.”

Without waiting for further comment, she started the agonizing climb. The man sucked air through his teeth. “Hell of a Tuesday…”

The climb was pretty bad, her gently stabbed shoulder screeching at each handhold. The ziplines weren’t much better, but she could at least loop her cape around the bar in an attempt to spread her weight better. She landed with staggering steps on the Diamond’s rooftop balcony, barely resisting the need to collapse in a heap. Viago landed silently and stalked past her without a glance.

“Find Teia.” Was all he offered her. “Mr. Tethras, follow me. We’ll discuss your business inside.”

The dwarf did look her way, offering a weak smile. “Sorry, kid.”

And then he too was gone, disappearing into the golden light that spilled from the stairs. She leaned against the wall, letting the cool stone press into her cheek. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be like this. She just wanted to go for a run, to have a few hours to herself. Vi was right, she was an idiot. She left a smear of blood behind on the wall as she pushed herself into motion, staggering past the other Crows gathered outside. A few cast curious glances at her state, but no one even twitched a finger to help her. That wasn’t unusual, but it did make her a bit more bitter.

When she did finally stumble inside the Diamond, Teia was waiting for her. The Crow ducked under her good arm, wrapping her own around the mage’s waist and supporting her further in. Renn melted into the touch, an ugly sob trapped in her throat. She had almost died, run herself ragged to save a bunch of people she didn’t even know, and that one stupid act of selflessness might’ve doomed Viago. She owed him better than that.

The Seventh Talon pulled her off to a side room where medical supplies were laid out next to a water basin; the makeshift infirmary of the Diamond. She collapsed in the chair, huffing for a moment in a vain attempt to school herself back into order. It partially worked. As Teia soaked a towel in the basin, she began shucking off her leathers. They stuck agonizingly to her shoulder, forcing her to slowly peel the ruined material away. She’d need stitches, probably for the aching cut on her cheek, too. Teia crouched in front of her, starting the arduous process of cleaning the wound. She at least had a soft touch.

“I fucked up, T.” She wobbled out, resting her face in her free hand.

“I know, little wren.” The Talon’s voice was soft, but there was a note of disapproval hidden in it.

It made her throat squeeze shut, strangling her words. “How do I fix it?”

“Vi will handle it.”

“He shouldn’t have to.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

The pressure on her shoulder tightened, but she leaned into that touch, too. She had earned that pain. It disappeared almost instantly as Teia returned to her ministrations.

“I think it’s a bit late for that sentiment, Renn.”

Her next breath was shaking, barely disguising how close she was to crying. “If he presents me to the Talons for punishment-”

“You know he never would.” Teia cut in sharply.

“He should. It was my fuck up.”

“And his responsibility to keep you updated and under control. It looks bad if he takes the blame, it looks bad if he throws you to the Crows. He has survived worse than a shameful underling and he'll survive this too.” Teia pressed her shoulder back against the chair, holding up a hooked needle. “You are far from the worst thing to happen to House de Riva.”

With trembling fingers, she tried to conjure a small flame. The magic sputtered and fizzled. The Talon pressed her lips into a thin line, leaning over to use a candle instead.

“You used too much magic.” It wasn’t a question.

A wobbling laugh slipped free. “Yeah, used a bunch to make a stupid jump then had to fight six Antaam. Fingers feel all numb and tingly still.”

“He warned you not to do that.” She pressed, needle biting into the young Crow’s flesh.

Renn flinched slightly, watching the process numbly. “It’s not that much nerve damage and I won’t feel it for a few more years. The work now is more important.”

“I wish you hadn’t picked up his stubborn workaholic streak.” The Talon sighed.

Her mouth quirked with a weak smile. They sat in silence as the wound was dealt with, Teia’s stitching even and clean. The mage pulled in a steadying breath before turning her sliced cheek to face the woman. She hated face injuries. They hurt the most. She tried to disconnect herself from the moment, focusing on better things. The warm sweet rolls from the market, strong coffee before a stake out, that euphoric moment of hanging in the air mid jump. It barely dulled the pain, but it let her sit still for the process. When she was finished, Teia took her hands in her own and gently massaged her fingers. It was a vain attempt to coax feeling back into them.

“Thanks, T.” She offered up softly.

“I’d like to stop stitching you back together, little wren.” Her mouth slanted unhappily with worry.

“I think you’d need to clip my wings for that.”

“Don’t give Vi any ideas.” She shook her head, hair bouncing with the motion. “You can go see if he’s done with his meeting. I have letters to start.”

Guilt gnawed at her as the Seventh Talon slipped away. She’d made a proper mess this time. Instead of looking for trouble, she stood on wobbly legs and walked to the water basin. She spent long minutes washing the blood from her leathers, squeezing them dry and patting them down with a towel before wrapping herself back up. She couldn’t do much to hide the stitches on her cheek, but she could cover every other injury up. She almost laughed at the notion. It was another quirk she’d inherited from Viago, the need to hide behind thick leathers and cloth as if they’d dull any blade diving for their backs. It did make her feel a little better though.

With her feet only dragging a little, she shuffled her way back out into the Diamond proper. She could see Viago and the dwarf still talking at the long table stashed in a large alcove. The smaller man was more animated, hands gesturing up and down as he talked. Viago was still as always, only his face changing with small twitches and scowls as the discussion continued. Interrupting that was maybe the worst idea she could have. So instead, she pulled herself up into the rafters of the casino with a grunt, her shoulder protesting again. She liked it up there, the golden light lost to the gloom in the dome at night. Voices bounced in curious octaves, murmurs crawling along and whispers tickling your ears. It felt like a place of secrets. With quiet steps, she crept along the rafters until she was over the table, laying down flat on her stomach so she could hear better.

“... this mage is a problem, sir. If you have any Crow to spare, someone who can help find and deal with him, maybe the-”

“My House is the wrong one to come to for this.” Viago interrupted sharply.

“I tried to find the famed Mage Killer, but I got turned away at every door.”

That caused the Fifth Talon’s eyes to tighten, his jaw twitching. There was more to that, Renn noted. Viago knew something. She leaned a little closer, hoping to catch a snippet of a whisper maybe, something that would reveal just what he knew about the First Talon’s best assassin.

“House Dellamorte is expensive, even by your standards. Your mark seems nebulous at best, as well. Claiming an Elven god disguised as a Dalish mage is trying to plunge the world into chaos by tearing open the Fade sounds ludicrous.” Viago’s tone was dismissive. He wanted this conversation over with forever ago and his patience was slipping.

“I know how it sounds, I’ve been spouting it for months now while trying to find him. But no one wants the world filled with demons and wild magic, trust me.” The dwarf sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll be in town for a week or so. If you can think of anyone who can help, a Crow you wouldn’t mind letting loose for a bit, I’ll pay good coin. I’m good for it, my title backs it up. I’ll stop by again before I leave the city, if that’s all right.”

Viago gave a minute shrug. “A wild goose chase is expensive, Mr. Tethras.”

“Good thing I’m not hunting a goose.” He sighed, offering the Talon a wave as he turned to leave.

Viago watched him go silently before his eyes turned to the papers on the table. Probably details about the potential contract. She was too far to read those, especially as he picked them up to shuffle through them. After a long moment, he crooked a finger up towards the rafters, beckoning. She swallowed thickly. Her usual smooth movement to dismount the beam to the floor below almost dropped her unceremoniously on her face as her shoulder refused to hold her weight. She barely caught herself on the edge of the table with her good arm, leaning on it in a poor attempt to cover the fall casually.

“You,” he started bluntly, pointing at her, “are to return to the apartments and stay there until I say otherwise.”

She spluttered at that, wanting to argue. She was one of the best earners for the House. She did terribly with idle time. Locking her up in her room was akin to torture. She didn’t voice a single one of those thoughts, mutely nodding. Disobeying his orders was what had caused this whole nightmarish evening. She was still furious at the plan, still wanted to scream at him over how cruel it all was. But they were both stubborn, so she stayed silent. It caused him to raise an eyebrow at her.

“Not even a single note of protest?”

She shrugged, wincing at the gesture. “I got banged up. I can mope in my room for a few days about it.”

His eyes fell back to the contract in his hand. “Off with you then.”

She didn’t need another warning, disappearing in the next breath. She was exhausted and crawling into a proper bed sounded heavenly. It would be easier to sneak a peek at that contract when he wasn’t studying it like his latest potentially poisoned meal. Besides, he couldn’t keep her in the apartments forever. She was a pain in the ass, but she was an effective pain in the ass. No one could keep up with him like she could.

Limping along, she stuck to the busier streets instead of the rooftops, dawn starting to color the sky. The apartments Viago had paid for were only a few blocks away from the Diamond, a collection of rooms for the handful of de Riva Crows that followed him from Salle to Treviso. Plenty of the fledglings stayed at the Diamond, but the proper assassins preferred their own home base. Especially assassins who belonged to a House like de Riva. Poison maniacs, the lot of them, without an ounce of trust in their veins. She gave a brief greeting to the kitchen staff, accepting a warm sweetroll from one of the chefs. Fifty-fifty on it being laced with something, but turning them down was a harder fight.

The door to her room opened on silent hinges, but she stepped over a poorly hidden tripwire waiting for her. They had to at least make it look like they tried to kill each other or they weren’t real Crows or something. The poisoned darts were a nice present from whoever had left her the surprise. A simple once over of her bed revealed a strange dusting on the pillow that she shook loose out the window. At least they had kept it simple. She collapsed in the soft embrace of her bed, the exhaustion claiming her almost instantly.

She spent the next few days in a slight daze of recovery. Simple exercises to keep her ruined shoulder from getting stiff, lighter magic usage to avoid letting her system get too used to the lack of it, and she even went back to distilling fresh poisons when the boredom set in properly. At the start of week two with no word, she took to feeding Viago’s snakes for the house staff just to have something to do outside her room. When that got old, she took to trimming and harvesting her little garden of poisonous plants strewn around the windows. Week three she felt like she might die from the lack of things to do. She was hanging halfway off her bed, head dangerously close to the floor when the air in the room shifted.

“Please tell me you have a job for me, Vi.” She whined, flailing a hand into the air.

“In a sense.” His voice came from the other side of the bed, not a single noise to his steps as he entered the room.

“Oh, that’s ominous.” She pulled herself upright back into the pillows. Part of her still simmered when she looked at him, another part screaming at her to apologize for what she had said that night. She was obstinate to both feelings. “What’s my doghouse assignment? Please tell me it’s not canal work again.”

“You’re going to leave Treviso for a while.” He started carefully.

“You can’t.” She shot back instantly, disbelief sharp. “We’re being occupied! I’m needed here-”

“You are needed where I say you are.” He snapped. “You angered a lot of people. It’s better if you aren’t lingering here to tempt any blades.”

“You’re sweeping me under the rug.” She couldn’t keep the betrayal from her voice, before a heart wrenching thought occurred to her. “When can I come back?” Can I come back?

“It’s a contract. Finish it and you can come home.”

“What…” she faltered for a moment, “what’s the mark?”

“An elven god.” He offered blandly, passing her the official write up. It was signed in a sweeping hand. Varric Tethras. “Be ready to go within the hour.”

And then he was gone, leaving her with a contract that seemed impossible to finish. Elven gods weren’t real. He was kicking her out of her only home. It would have hurt less if he had simply buried a knife in her heart and moved on. Better to die a Crow than be cast aside. Was this supposed to be a mercy? A cruel, numbing draught to forget her with? She crumpled the pages to her chest, furious and despairing. Varric Tethras was going to regret making this contract.

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