My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "No, no, keep dancing. We have to look as if there isn't a problem in the world, remember?"

  He growled, but resumed the dance. "I hate this. There is no point to my being here other than to provide entertainment for the Orlesian nobility."

  "Is it so bad?" she asked. With Cullen distracted, another couple swung up from behind them and almost nicked into Lana's shoes. She dodged out of the way by pressing her chest into his. Cullen's arm reached fully around to hold onto her hip upon the other side. It was probably to keep her from knocking him over, but as the couple drifted away, he didn't let go and she didn't want him too.

  "It is worse than I described. I've answered repetitive questions about my personal life so many times I fear I've gone deaf from the echo."

  "I'm certain they're all well papered ladies up there," Lana pulled their conjoined hands closer to her chest. There was very little room for any spirits between them now.

  Cullen snorted, "You make them sound like mabari."

  "No, I would never. Mabari are useful." That earned her a proper laugh and those golden eyes beamed into hers. She ached to kiss him, to have his hands thread through her hair and pull back her head. Instead, she shrugged, "I'm certain one of them would make a proper wife."

  "They're playing," Cullen scoffed, "prodding into the new toy until the next one comes along."

  "Why commander, you are full of surprises," Lana smiled. "It took me nearly three months before I figured out that's what the nobility was trying to do to me."

  His cheeks beamed with pride and he slipped lower to whisper in her ear, "Besides, my interests lie elsewhere."

  "Corypheus," Lana responded, bobbing her head.

  "Ah, right, Corypheus," his body stiffened below her fingers and he stood upright. Duty was the best chaperon they had. Lana glanced over at the women now willing death through their eyes upon the woman who dared to steal the object of their sudden attention away. She smirked, then turned to Cullen, "Spin me."

  "I'm not certain if..."

  "Trust me," she said. He lifted his arm and gave a rather good attempt at it, but Lana rose up on her toes to smack nose first into his arm.

  It wasn't very hard, only the lightest of knocks, but Cullen broke his grip on her to cry out, "Maker, I'm sorry."

  Lana rubbed her nose, "It's all right." She grabbed onto the commander and let him get in a few more steps before she pulled her next move. When he stepped a bit too close, Lana yelped and yanked her foot back. For added effect, she hopped up and down on one leg.

  "What did I...your foot?" he gestured to her hobbling.

  "Pay it no heed," Lana said, returning to the dance.

  "I warned you, I am no dancer," he said, guilt radiating off him.

  Breaking from the plan for a moment, Lana ran the back of her fingers against his cheek ruffling up that scruff he couldn't bother to shave away from the night. The regret slipped away and he glanced up from his stupor to her twinkling eyes. For a brief second she let her fingers trail towards his lips. Cullen kissed them softly. Drum and bass faded away until only the final beats of the lute hummed through the air. The song was coming to its end. It was now or never. "Dip me." Lana pulled her hand away from his cheek.

  "This is unwise," he said, shaking his head.

  "I have faith," she assured him. Fingers digging into her spine, Cullen bent her backwards, Lana extending deeper until her fingers could skim the floor.

  "Drop me," she whispered. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she felt eyes in the palace swinging towards the woman in a backwards swan dive.

  "You cannot be serious," he shook his head, unwilling to break his hold even as she felt him straining from her weight.

  "Trust me," Lana whispered. Blood pooled in her brain from the extended dip, causing the edges of her vision to undulate as if in a smokey haze. Cullen lurched forward, his fingers almost breaking contact on accident. He gritted his teeth and released his hold. Lana parted the fade slightly to cushion her fall, but to anyone watching on the periphery it looked as if Cullen's dance partner smashed to the floor. She lay upon it for a moment acting dazed. Cullen extended a hand to her, a thousand apologies dripping from his lips. Lana took it and made a show of massaging her back.

  "Why did you...? Are you all right? Hurt? How was...?" Cullen begged for an explanation.

  Lana's eyes whipped up to the women who'd surrounded the commander the entire night. They sniffed in disgust at his poor display and wandered off for new prey. Still wide eyed, he watched them then turned back to Lana who was smiling, "You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a west wing to investigate."

  She slipped off the dance floor and faded into the background while the not-quite-so dashing commander was free to return to his drink unimpeded.

  Chapter Eleven

  Face Me

  Only the glow from the towering windows highlighted the silent courtyard. Shafts of light reflected upon the gilded visage of Hessarian's regretful face bent into his hand. Lana glanced back at the bodies of the guards tossed to the ground, cold blood pooling off their throats into the grout of the marble tiles. Whoever did it made the cut clean and quick but judging from how they fell, the attack wasn't from behind. The guards didn't bat at eye at the person who walked up to them and slit their throats. This party got a lot more complicated.

  Slipping the door closed, Lana stepped into the courtyard. Three levels of the Winter Palace circled above her, each balcony walled off by white railing. Ivy clung between them making climbing impossible, not that she was going to manage to shimmy up a trellis in her dress. It'd also cause a horrific amount of noise. Sticking to the shadows, she tried the handle of the first door to her right but it stuck fast, the second beside it the same. Out of all the times she didn't think to bring a rogue... Lana tapped her foot, trying to decide if she should risk the time finding Leliana when a scream broke through the frozen night air. Snapping her hands up and calling forth the fade energy, Lana traced the cry to the story above her.

  A shadow flapped against the cloudy night, its silhouette darker than the grey sky. The creature landed upon Hessarian's head and screamed again, the crest of feathers upon its head vibrating from the call. Great, she was sent here to find a bloody peacock that was now shitting all over the tevinter magister. Lana smiled at the fitting image wishing she could frame it for Corypheus. This is what we think of your rise to power. The bird gave the mage who almost roasted it alive no heed as it extended its wings and again cried into the night.

  Another scream answered it. Not a mate returning the call, this one was low and tucked into the chest - like someone struggling against a gag - and very human. Gathering up her damn skirts, Lana dashed towards the sound emanating from the opposite side of the courtyard. The handle to the door was melted clean through, re-solidified drips of metal dangling through the hole as if someone used a rod of fire on it. Pushing softly on the door, Lana risked peering only an eye inside. Blackness was all that afforded her on either end. Placing both hands against the door, Lana opened it slowly while trying to minimize the noise. She stepped across the threshold when that cursed bird took wing and flew/plummeted almost into her face. Ducking to avoid her eyes getting scratched out, the peacock didn't care a whit. Its body crashed to the floor with a wallop, but the thing rolled back onto its feet and it waddled away.

  "What was that?" a voice called out from the darkness of the hall. Lana dashed to the wall where her fingers found the lip of a table. Cursing her dress and her wound, she shrunk low. The leather corset was having none of her bending over, so she dropped to her knees and scurried under.

  "It was nothing." The first man spoke Orlesian but the second was Tevinter. She'd only managed to pick up the tourist version of the language from her quick travels, which was rather pathetic as she read the damn thing fluently. No one ran towards her from the inky darkness, so Lana slipped out from under the table and inched towards the voices.

  "No, I heard something, I swear," the
Orlesian insisted. Lana froze as the clip of boots echoed across a marble floor. To the left of her down a long hall, the only slip of light peeked out from under a door. She focused upon it while sliding forwards, stifling all noise as best she could. Zevran was good for learning a few tricks. "I'm gonna check."

  "Be my visitor," the Tevinter said, or something close to it.

  The light under the door broke open revealing a burning fireplace which framed the shadow of a fully armed and armored man. He glared into dark night before him. "I think I see...AH!" the Orlesian shrieked. Lana reached into the fade, tugging at her mana and driving for her trusty ice spells. More boots clattered upon the floor as the Tevinter dashed to the Orlesian's side, a staff in his hands.

  "There's something out there," the Orlesian pointed a finger down the hallway.

  Lana cursed under her breath. One she could take on easily, but a tevinter mage... She'd only faced them down once before and had had a templar at her side. For the first time in a year, she wished Alistair was here. She shifted her feet underneath her, attempting to rise as quickly as possible, when a scattering of tiny feet clicked down the marble. The Orlesian shrieked again as the full fury of an interrupted and probably libidinous peacock dashed down the hall and leapt for the man's face. He tumbled back, batting at the thing with his hands while the Tevinter laughed.

  "You fool, it is a chicken."

  "It's not a damn chicken, it's some void spawned bird. Get it off me!" he screamed, talons digging into that meaty face.

  "Well, hold point," the Tevinter sighed. He waved his staff towards the bird, but the peacock must have sensed it was about to be attacked and flew off deeper into the room. Both men turned away from the dark hallway into the bright light of the room to chase the bird.

  Rising to her feet, Lana slipped off her shoes and padded with a sure stride towards them. With each step she threaded every ounce of the fade into her body, channeling it down to one spell. If she was lucky, she could hit both at once. If she was unlucky...it was best to hope for luck. The Tevinter tossed a few haphazard ice shards where the peacock was instead of where it was going while the Orlesian chased after it, his arms flapping in the air and missing by miles. Both chuckled at their being outwitted by a bird, when the Orlesian hopped up to catch the peacock and landed facing out the door. He must have only been able to see the silhouette of a woman standing there, Lana cloaked in the darkness.

  He raised his finger, about to call to the Tevinter. Lana rolled both her hands together and cast the men into a crushing prison. The Orlesian screamed first, his head thrown back in agony. The sound of his bones shattering and popping like kindling on the fire stampeded over the shrieks falling silent as his body compacted down in upon itself. After a time, the neck would snap leaving nothing left to scream. Exhaustion rolled up Lana's legs and across her chest, trying to yank down her arm to cancel the spell, but she gritted through it. Maintaining one crushing prison was child's play, but two. She rarely tried it outside of extreme measures, and the Tevinter was fighting her. While the Orlesian cracked in half like a matchstick boy, the Tevinter twisted his arm around, trying to aim his staff at Lana. She bit down on her tongue and drew forth more power from the fade, enough to light all of the Winter Palace on fire. In a quick move, she dropped the crushing prison, momentarily releasing the men, then smashed an invisible fist from the ceiling into their mutilated bodies. The Orlesian was gnarled, his lips frozen in a scream, the eyes lifeless. But the Tevinter moaned, struggling to breathe through Maker knew how many shattered ribs.

  Lana turned away from them to the woman perched upon the floor. Her hands were bound behind her and she was gagged, though she managed to work the towel out enough to let out that first scream. The Inquisition's symbolic eye gleamed off her chest. Snatching up the dead Orlesian's sword, Lana undid the bounds upon her wrists. The woman yanked off the gag, then spat in the direction of the men.

  Her wrath didn't fade, but she slipped it onto the back burner while eyeing up Lana, "Thanks. I assume you're Inquisition, too."

  "Something like that," Lana said. "Incognito."

  The woman rolled her eyes. She moved to stand, but tipped to the side. Lana grabbed onto her hand to help her to her feet. "Bastards had me tied up for near an hour." Steadied now, the woman yanked her stolen scabbard off the floor and unsheathed her sword. "That one dead?" she asked, gesturing to the Orlesian. Lana nodded. "That one ain't." Before Lana could object, the woman kicked the Tevinter mage over. With a quick thrust, she slit his throat. "Fucking Venatori," she muttered. "I swear, their blood's poisoned or some shit. It'll stain your blade fast if you don't clean it." She yanked up the bottom of the dead mage's robe and wiped his own blood back upon it.

  "What's your name..." Lana's eyes hunted over the uniform for a sign of rank, "lieutenant?"

  "Andrea, ma'am. And I was supposed to see our people into the palace. Easy and quick job until these jackasses popped up."

  "Lana," she pointed at herself. "What can you tell me about them?"

  "Venatori, at least six. Maybe more. We sure as shit weren't expecting an attack and they caught us blindsided while shimmying over the gate."

  "You climbed the gate?" Lana thought back to the twelve foot tall iron fence circling the grounds topped with proper Orlesian spikes.

  "Weren't nothing," Andrea shrugged. "Not until it's all ice this and fire that. Mages," she spat, then blinked at Lana, "excusing present company."

  Lana chuckled, "Oh, I'm far worse than them. Do you know how to fight Venatori?"

  Andrea narrowed her eyes at Lana and she slapped back on her scabbard, "Aye, why are you asking?"

  "Because I haven't encountered them before. I need you to tell me every single trick they have." Lana kicked over the body of the mage and picked up his staff. It was fancier than she preferred, indentations carved into the handle for fingers to fit and whittled through the middle to give the illusion of a shapely column which rendered the integrity of the core brittle. Pretty to gaze upon, but ascetics didn't kill darkspawn. She hovered her fingers over the top searching for any hidden curses built in by the owner but nothing popped up. Either the Tevinter didn't believe anyone would defeat him and steal his staff, or he cheated the carver. Twisting it around in her arms, Lana got a feel for the staff. There was no blade, only a weighted edge bulging off the bottom. With enough force it should crack a few bones.

  "This will do," she pronounced. "Take me to the rest of your people."

  "Of course, but," Andrea jerked her finger towards the edge of the room, "what should we do with the bird?" The peacock screamed at them in response then haphazardly flapped up to land upon a bust over the door.

  "I suspect it's just as happy as we are to have the invaders gone." Lana bowed slightly to the bird, earning a sigh from the lieutenant, and dashed back into the hall. She slipped on her shoes while Andrea directed her down the blackened hallway, around the corner, down another light-less hall, and past a statue of some famous Orlesian.

  "Hold up here!" Andrea tugged on Lana's dragon wing sleeve and shout-whispered. "Last I saw they had our people tied up outside this door."

  "Why weren't they killed?" Lana asked.

  Andrea shrugged, "Dunno. Not gonna question their great big plan if it keeps my people alive, though. They wanted me to give the signal to the others, send 'em all through so they could pick 'em off."

  "What'd you do?"

  She smiled wide, her teeth glinting in the scrap of moonlit, "Bit one's nose off, kicked the other in the knee. Was aiming a bit higher, but you take what you can get. Since I wouldn't play nice, they bundled me off to their little parlor while trying to convince the rest of my people they killed me."

  Lana glared through the dark night trying to see past the wood. Why wouldn't the Venatori slit everyone's throats? It made the most sense to knock off the soldiers fast unless...unless they planned to blame the Inquisition for the Empress' death. Perhaps not enough for a proper conviction in any court but it
would seed chaos among a mourning country. "We have to get them back, all of them."

  Andrea eyed her up, "That was my plan all along."

  "Right, good. Venatori, what's their main school of magic? Entropy? Primal? Spirit?"

  The lieutenant blinked slowly at her and leaned back, "Fire."

  "Fire?"

  "Lot of fire, one of them does this sprint spell that leaves a wake of fire behind him. Melts the boots if you're not quick to leap away. Damn pain in the ass. Do you have any idea how expensive resoling is?"

  Lana slipped her eyes closed and leaned into the door. A sound echoed through the wood, but it was muffled and incoherent. Could be Tevinter, but was just as likely to be two lost Orlesian party guests taking a piss in the bushes. What she needed was a view of the surroundings to plan the attack. "Could you...?"

  "Find a vantage point? Yeah, I've already got an idea." Andrea unearthed a dagger from her belt and jabbed it into the mortar between bricks. What was she doing? That would take hours to dig out enough... The brick lifted upon her blade and carefully the lieutenant drew it back, exposing the courtyard beyond the door. "They always leave peepholes around these places. Orlesians and their games. Here, have a look-see."

  Lana scooted to take Andrea's place, dropping to a knee to eye up the courtyard. It was much the same as the one she spotted the peacock in, though this had a statue of Andraste bathed in flame. Rather fitting. Trussed up at her feet were Inquisition soldiers, their heads bent as if in defeat but she suspected they were trying to share signals without their captors catching on. From her narrow window she could only see the taloned shoes of two Venatori pacing in front of them. One carried a staff which he kept banging into the ground every other step. Good way to completely destabilize the aura. Lana clicked her tongue at the bravado then tried to lay flatter upon the ground to get a look at the upper floor.

  "Damn, I can't see if there are any archers."

  "Three on the roof, though one of 'ems always facing the south," Andrea repeated. "What? I was just out there."