#i lov how sten calls all his dear friends kadan so jabeen does too

[atypicalacademic]

Kith

(A/N: Though her parents and kin have left Seheron due to the war making them fear for their lives, Jabeen Adaar and her Valo-Kas grew up in a community in Free Marches who still abide by the teachings of the Qun as best as they can. As such, they consider themselves Qunari, rather than Tal-Vashoth. Hesra Adaar belongs to @greyvvardenfell)

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: all the npcs are fuckin racist to qunari man it pissed me off

*

The Rivaini say that Qunari have a certain kindness to them, or at least a conspicuous lack of cruelty. -From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi.

*

Haven was a war Jabeen waged alone.

Pressing with both hands to calm her aching temples, she had prepared herself the quiet armour that she wore beneath her vitaar. The solid, tired resilience she grew like second skin, of gritting her teeth and straightening her back when they demanded that she bow her head, shrink herself, hide her horns instead.

She steeled herself with a steady breath, chanting enough of what her Tama had taught her to drown out what would begin with the morning, from the subtle flinch of the quartermaster to an arched brow of surprise at the War Table when she let her voice carry more than they wished it to.

Val Royeaux still twisted like knives between her ribs, every word hurled across the cobbled streets gathering dirt in the grooves of her plates, stains clinging even when she washed her hair and her palms again and again and again until they froze and shrivelled.

"That horned thing was drenched in the Divine's blood."

Maraas kata.

"We don't back away from you oxmen."

Maraas shokra.

"I didn't expect you to be-"

Anaan esaam qun.

*

They arrived at dawn, before the first rays of burning sunrise made its way through Jabeen's window, burnishing the wooden cabin, and drawing her from an exhausted slumber.

They arrived with their heads lifted, their weapons strapped to their back, scarred skin streaked with vitaar beneath the coat of another layer against the cold.

Lost in her effort to scan through the crowd for a safe place to stand, Jabeen would have mistaken Hesra's snowy curls for snow itself, or an apparition cast from her own hunger and homesickness. Had Hesra not turned, tentatively, always startled by a gaze upon her, even one so familiar.

Had Dilrosh not followed, pushing through the small crowd gathered to whisper about them, striding through the space between them, his staff clutched in his hand.

Then the rest, Mehak with her bow, Geetar with his sword and shield, Behar with her spear planted like a flag in the ankle-deep snow.

And just so, the cruel, cold grip of despondency shattered like thin ice.

She was alive again.

*

"Shanedan, Sataareth. You look like you've seen a ghost." Dilrosh smiled at her, and rolled his eyes when Jabeen touched his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't vanish into mist.

Sataareth. That was the title they had given her. Who she was. Enforcer, not merely in strength but their rallying cry- their refuge from harm and the home of all their homes.

She looked past him at Hesra, who stood a pace away, half-hiding behind Geetar, who was the only one tall enough to shield her. Other than Jabeen herself.

"Are you alright, kadan?" Jabeen's voice was thick with tears she hadn't let fall. "I worried so much for you."

She was rewarded with a tentative smile and a nod. It warmed her twice-frozen heart as sure as Hesra's healing hands.

Who she was. Trusted. Prized.

"Ah, here we are." Geetar cut her off before she could press further. "Playing favorites with the mages again."

Jabeen sniffed, with a shaky smile, reaching up to tug his ear. "I do not play favourites."

"Hey, the Templars would've taken me, as well." Dilrosh summoned a small flame to his fingertips.

Jabeen's face fell, and her lip trembled. "Don't even joke about it. I would've lost all of you."

It was the sickening terror she'd opened her eyes to in that horrid dark cell, overtaking any thought of her own fate, or even the damned tear in her hand. It was the first phrase that rose to her lips when she could summon her voice speak to the Seeker. A demand, a threat, knowing full well what demands and threats would inflict upon her at the hands of humans. "Where are the Valo-Kas? What did you do to them?"

Dilrosh winced, instantly setting his magic aside to lay both hands on her shoulder. "Jabeen, no. We're fine. No injury our Hesra couldn't patch up." His eyes glazed over with a pain that mirrored hers. "We were so scared we lost you."

Who she was. To her kin, she could not be lost.

Jabeen steadied herself, meeting their eyes in turn. "You haven't."

"Don't we know it." Mehak relaxed, though behind her, Hesra's brows were furrowed in concern. "We knew you wouldn't abandon us, Sataareth."

"I should've never accepted this. This job endangered all of you. I should've-"

"Sataareth." Behar rolled her eyes. "We're not scared of humans."

"I know, but-"

"The sky's torn open. Where d'you think is safer than at the side of the woman who can close it?" Geetar set aside his shield. "Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit. You are kadan to us, and there is no duty for us away from you."

"So you'll...stay?"

"What did he just say?" Mehak teased. "Besides, I hear the Bull's Chargers were asking after this- Inquisition. If they chip in, and we don't? You won't let us be shown up by competition, would you?"

Jabeen sighed fondly, relaxing into Dilrosh's open arms, then kissing Mehak on the cheek. Relief washed over her like water, running her clean of bleeding wounds swifter than a stream, leaving only fading scars in their wake.

*

Hesra ran a careful eye over her, looking for injuries she'd neglected out of habit. The question in that look was silent, but Jabeen knew they all waited for an answer.

"It's..the usual."

Dilrosh's jaw clenched, and Behar's hand flew to her spear.

Jabeen shrugged. She had taught them by example to never hide their pain. "At best, they treat me like eight feet of muscle and a pair of horns they can't do without. At worst..." Her gaze slid to Hesra, whose frown deepened, her eyes gentled with an old sadness. "Well. You know."

Mehak touched the base of her own broken horn, then tucked a strand of Jabeen's hair behind her ear.

They did. How it burns her, how it saves her, that they did.

*

"You would..." Cassandra blinked, sharing a glance with the Commander looming behind her. "Have them stay?"

Jabeen clenched her fists by her sides. "Yes."

"They are an impressive force, Cassandra." Leliana ventured a smile. "Why do you think I hired them for the Conclave in the first place?"

"We will need to consider it."

"Consider all you like." Jabeen straightened to her full height, the tip of her black horns glinting in the morning sun, flanked by her company who had fallen to place behind her. "But know this." She held up her hand, a flash of glowing green to remind them of what they stand to lose. "Where my kith go, I follow."

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. "I...see."

"Do you?"

Jabeen levelled her gaze at Cassandra, who held her silence for a moment more, and nodded.

*

Hesra's voice carried no higher than the breeze, but reached inward as a tree to its roots, and she smiled as Jabeen joined in, murmuring words they always had to stave off cold and fear and loneliness, the pain of battle and the wounds of all the world.

"Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun."