Chapter Text
Natia's hands shook with rage as she carefully slathered makeup to cover the fresh bruise on her sister's cheek. Rica grimaced a conciliatory smile at her and tried to meet Natia's eyes. Stepping back to examine her work, Natia frowned and avoided her sister's gaze in favor of grabbing another brushful of powder.
"How, exactly, is Rica expected to find a noble if her face is all marked up, mother?"
Kalah was sprawled out on the floor next to the couch. Snorting, she turned her head and spat bloody mucus onto the grimy stone floors. "Maybe if you weren't such a sodding bitch, you could be out there covering for her."
"Mother-" Rica began, only to be interrupted by a shove from her sister as Natia stalked across the room to their mother.
"I knocked you out once, I can do it again!"
Kalah just chuckled, gingerly checking her teeth. "Break my leg next time, then I can be a beggar."
"I won't do you any favors-"
"Natia, please, Mother just-"
"Mother is a worthless alcoholic dependent on us to supply her," Natia spat, taking a deep breath before giving her sister a critical eye. "If she had any sort of intelligence left in her rotten head, she'd know to leave your face alone."
"If she had any worth aside from her pretty face and what's between her legs-"
"Better than your worth, Mother," Natia fumed, "or mine! Her pretty face can get us out of Dust Town. You're useless, and I'm only useful until I piss off Beraht."
"Speaking of pissing off Beraht," a male voice drawled from the doorway.
"Bugger off, Leske."
"Oh? Was this a private conversation? Could hear it down at Tapster's," he teased, leering at Rica starting at her hips. He winced when he got to her face. "Bad luck, beautiful. Beraht won't let you go to the party like that."
Natia glowered at him before tossing the makeup brush she still held at her sister and aiming a halfhearted kick at their mother. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave her alone."
"If I knew what was good for me, I woulda drowned you at birth!"
"Mother-!"
Ignoring them, Natia elbowed Leske aside on her way out the door. Taking a deep breath of the pungent air, she turned to her partner and raised an eyebrow. "What's the deal today?"
"Luckily for your temper, salroka, we get to go beat down some scum."
"Good. I can't sodding wait. Who's the unlucky Duster this time?"
Leske smirked. "Remember that nug-humper who thought he could buy your sister off your mother?"
The savage grin that split her face made him laugh. "So let's go."
"He's in the market district, not far from Tapster's. Some upstart merchant now. Didn't want to pay his protection fee."
Natia practically skipped ahead. "This day has completely turned around, Leske. I might thank Beraht later."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he chuckled. "He's going to be pissed about your sister."
"He can take it out on Mother. Maybe someone else can beat some sense into her."
Leske shrugged. "Only if you want her dead, salroka."
"Don't tempt me," she said, quieter now that they were approaching the guardpost cutting Dust Town off from the rest of Orzammar.
"What's your business in the Market District, Brand?" The guard, Maren, drawled. He already knew who they were; everyone in Dust Town and most of the Market District recognized Natia and Leske on sight now. The dubious honor of being Beraht's main thugs.
"Doing some clean up for Beraht," Natia answered with a wink.
"I hope he doesn't have any overly public messes today," Maren said, stepping out of their path.
Leske walked backwards to answer him, trying to keep pace with his eager partner. "Not any more than usual."
Maren tsked. "Make sure the blood is washed out this time. The new kid was asking questions."
"He'll learn not to, or regret it," Natia hollered back at them without slowing.
Leske grinned and shrugged at the resigned guard. "She's not wrong."
The rest of their short trip was filled with brief pleasantries for the people associated with Beraht, and obnoxiously fake groveling to any upstanding citizens who were offended by a Brand's presence outside of Dust Town. The merchant they wanted was set up near the surface entrance. His wares were displayed underneath a patched and faded canopy, incongruous with the rest of the nearby booths. There was no need to protect from the elements underground.
"I forgot he was a surfacer," Natia admitted, leaning against a cracked stone wall. "This is even better. No kin down here."
"He's jumpy," Leske commented. He was idly picking his nails with a dull shiv, seemingly not paying any attention to their target.
"Think he's realized his mistake?"
Leske snorted. "No. He's probably just uncomfortable underground."
Natia hummed absently and tried to decide how they should proceed. The merchant wandered away from his wares, hollering something at one of his neighbors, and headed towards one of the public pissers.
"Ohh," murmured Leske, looking up from his nails and slipping the shiv into his belt, "it can't be that easy. There's no sodding way it's that easy."
Natia just cackled, already on the move. They skulked from booth to booth, ignoring the alarmed sounds of the merchants surrounding them, and tracked their quarry all the way to the doorway. There an attendant planted himself in front of the entrance. "No Brands."
Natia rolled her eyes and shoved him to the side. "We're not here to piss, you nug-humper. Get the fuck out of my way."
"Hello, honorable piss guardian, why don't we have a little chat?" Leske wheedled as Natia made her way into a dim hall lined with stalls.
There were only two occupied when she entered. "Whoever wasn't stupid enough to tell Jarvia no should leave now!"
The stall closest to her slammed open and a nondescript dwarf stumbled out, still tying his laces. "Pardon me. Give Beraht my best," he muttered as he gingerly passed by.
There was complete silence as his footsteps retreated. Natia took a deep breath, shook her head to clear the likely maniacal grin from her face, and approached the remaining occupant. "Come out, come out! If you make me break in there, they'll find your head stuffed into the hole with all the other refuse."
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"Me?" Natia scoffed. "I'm no one. Just a Duster doing her job. I don't want anything. Beraht, however, doesn't appreciate his second being disrespected. Jarvia won't dirty her hands with scum like you, though, and so here I am."
"What- what are they paying? I can-"
"Now see, I rather like living. Dusters who try to take bribes end up very, thoroughly dead. Sometimes their families join them. You wouldn't do that to my family, would you?"
"I can help you get out of here-"
Natia snorted. "If I wanted to be a cloud-gazer, I would already be long gone. I'm happy where I'm at."
"You're happy-?! You like being a small-time thug?!"
"Why not?" She shrugged, stopping outside the still closed stall. "How else would I get paid to beat jumped up scum like you?"
"You're a monster."
"I'm not the one who tried to buy a teenage girl from her mother," Natia hissed, slamming her hands into the stone door. "Now open up, before you really piss me off."
"I-"
"One."
"Please, you can't-"
"Two."
"I didn't mean- I don't know what you're talking-"
Natia yanked the peg out of the top hinge, and the door tilted out of place. "Three!"
"No! Wait!" A rattle as the chain was slid out of the lock. The door shifted further out of place and leaned drunkenly against the frame. It scraped against the wall as the merchant shimmied out of the stall. "I'm here, please-"
Natia cut him off with a punch to the face. He shrieked and tumbled to the ground. Laughing, she kicked his gut and then stomped on his head. He curled into a ball as she continued to pummel him. Kneeling next to his weeping form, she rolled him over to slam a fist into his face again.
His hands were clenched over his nose. One freed itself to flail at her, trying to keep her from hitting him again. Grabbing his arm, she pulled it back at an angle that had him squealing. There was a satisfying 'pop' as it slipped out of its socket, and she marveled at just how high pitched he could scream.
"Salroka!" Leske sang out from the entrance. "We're just supposed to maim him. No murder today."
"He's fine," she hollered back. "I just dislocated his shoulder."
"Well in that case, we still need to leave. Piss guardian didn't like the sound of that, and has run off for the guards."
"Sod it. Was just starting to have fun."
"He's probably learned his lesson."
"Well," Natia murmured, leaning down to speak directly into her victim's ear, "have you learned anything today?"
He wheezed, blood trickling from his split and swollen lips.
"Was that a yes? I can probably give you a couple minutes more teaching, before the guards will be bothered to come check things out."
He gingerly nodded his head and sputtered something that sounded affirmative.
"Well that was a nice, pleasant chat we just had," Natia said, standing up and rubbing bloodied fists on her brown tunic. "If you would like to avoid future communications with me and my associate, then you will limp your sorry ass to Jarvia and apologize profusely. I'm sure she will be pleased with your sincerity."
"Brosca!"
Resisting the urge to kick the merchant again, Natia jogged down the hall and out into the market. Leske immediately joined her, and they loped down the narrow path towards Dust Town.
A couple of guards strolled the opposite way. One of them was Maren, and he pointed at his shirt and frowned at Natia before continuing on his way. The younger one tried to peer over his shoulder, but Maren nudged him forward.
"Seems like you've made a mess again."
Natia sighed and turned off at a path leading to one of the few fountains Brands could frequent with only minor censure. She tugged her shirt out far enough to see the dark smear and shrugged. "It's not that much blood."
"It's noticeable, salroka."
"Wouldn't be in Dust Town."
"We're not in Dust Town yet. Gotta make it through the Market District first, and they pretend they aren't used to it," Leske said, sauntering into the small courtyard after her.
"Not used to respectable Dusters like us?" Natia gasped, widening her brown eyes comically before stopping next to the fountain. She pulled her tunic off and, ignoring Leske's whistle, eyed it critically. "Huh. There's more than I thought. Must have bled like a stuck nug."
Leske chuckled. "He certainly sounded like one. The echoes coming down the hall were beautiful. You would have loved how pale the piss guardian got before he ran off."
"Paler than me?" Natia joked, dabbing at the bloody streaks on her shirt.
"Paler than your sister, even."
"That's pretty pale," she laughed, flipping her tunic inside out and showing it to her partner. "Acceptable?"
"Yeah. Now you just look like a particularly grubby Brand. They'll love it."
"We live to please," she shrugged before pulling her damp shirt back on. She shuddered in disgust for a second, then shook her head and gestured for Leske to head out. "Back home, or do you think we have enough time to stop at Tapster's before Beraht expects us?"
"I wouldn't test him today," Leske cautioned. "We don't know how he's taken your sister's injury."
Natia grunted and picked up her pace. "My sodding mother better keep her hands to herself from now on."
"Can't have her spoiling such a beautiful work of art," Leske agreed, ducking away from Natia's retaliatory swing. "Then I'd have to go back to swooning over your good looks."
"And wouldn't that be terrible," she agreed with a roll of her eyes. "I'd hate to break your arm for trying to grope me again."
"It was one time," he protested, "and I apologized."
"You apologized after I broke your finger."
"It was a heartfelt apology."
A commotion ahead of them distracted from their banter. A crowd was gathered in front of Tapster's, which, while not an uncommon occurrence, was strange for this time of day.
"What's going on?" Leske questioned a nearby man.
The man frowned at their brands before gesturing towards the crowd. "Some Brand is causing problems."
"What kind of problems?" Natia asked with a friendly smile.
The man tsked. "The sort involving nobles."
"Nobles? Down here?" Leske chuckled. "Didn't think it was that season yet."
"This Brand looked kinda like you, actually, girl."
Natia's eyes narrowed. "A Brand with red hair in a braided bun? Pretty little thing? Bruise on her cheek?"
"Could be your twin, if you pretended to be a lady."
Leske smothered a guffaw as Natia glared at the man. Flexing her sore knuckles, she decided to ignore them in favor of shoving her way through the crowd. Most of them shifted out of the way with minimal argument as soon as they recognized her, and it didn't take long for Natia to get a glimpse through the thinning crowd. It was, indeed, Rica.
It was obvious who the noble was. She was a blonde woman — shining bright in golden armor almost the exact shade of her braided updo — who was standing far too close to Rica. Rica, for her part, was keeping her gaze firmly on the ground and speaking only when spoken to.
The noble leaned further in, until their faces were only inches apart. Whatever she said caused Rica to whip her eyes up and open her mouth in shocked horror. The noble's warrior companion grabbed Rica's arm and shook her like a drudge with a dirty rag.
"You should probably-" Leske began from behind, but Natia shrugged his hand from her shoulder and stalked towards them.
The gathering crowd parted around her — knowing better than to get in Brosca's way when she had that look on her face — and she was able to rush forward at full speed. Slamming a fist into the back of the warrior's head, she shoved off of his limp body and twirled to face the noble.
"What are you doing?!" Rica had time to shriek as Natia yanked her towards Leske, and then threw a solid punch at the noble's nose. It landed with a glorious 'crunch' that set the woman reeling back.
Natia cherished the shock on the noble's face as blood dripped between the fingers she had clenched around the injury. Dazed, the woman swayed in place before her warrior companion got around Leske to hold her up.
"Don't touch my sodding sister, bitch. Get the fuck back to your part of Orzammar!" Natia yelled, as Leske grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away.
There was a sudden loud yell and the crash of stomping feet, and Natia swore when she saw guards running their way. Beraht's name wouldn't protect her from the repercussions, and he would make her regret it if he was ever connected to this. Shrugging her friend off and grabbing Rica's hand — her sister surprisingly compliant — Natia followed Leske's heels as he tore off towards Dust Town and safety.
Her last glimpse of the noble was of rapidly bruising blue eyes peering around the man gently tilting her face up. Natia smirked and turned away. Sodding nobles.
They made it just inside Dust Town before Rica decided to make her opinions known.
"Natia!" She shouted, yanking her hand from her sister's grasp and turning to face her.
Natia rolled her eyes. "What?"
"You hit a noble!"
"I sure did."
Leske guffawed and clapped a hand on Natia's shoulder. "And she'd do it again, too!"
"Shut up, Leske," she warned, shrugging his overly friendly hand off.
"I'm going to leave before you find someone else to punch," he laughed again before walking away. "See ya tomorrow."
The sisters ignored him, silently glaring at each other until he was out of sight. Rica sighed and spoke first. "If they tell the guards that a Brand was the one who-"
"They won't say shit!" Natia scoffed.
"How do you know that? How can you possibly think-"
Natia leaned forward, backing her sister into a crumbling wall. "Because they won't want to admit that a Brand got one over on them."
"Nobles have come through here before-"
"And they didn't find anything we didn't want them to. They kill a couple beggars and whoever else Beraht considers expendable, and then they happily go back to the Diamond District."
Rica ran soothing fingers through her ruffled hair. "But what if Beraht decides you-"
"He won't."
"But what if-"
"He. Won't." Natia said firmly, staring her sister down.
Rica looked away first, visibly deflating. "Fine. Let's go home."
"What were you doing out there anyway, Rica?" Natia asked, allowing her sister to step away from the wall.
"I was supposed to meet-"
"With your face like that?"
Rica blushed, the color mixing strangely with the mottled purple bruise slowly spreading across her cheek. "He wouldn't care."
"Sounds like an asshole."
"I didn't mean it like that!"
"Oh?" Natia grinned. "Does he love you? Is he trying to put babies in your belly?"
"Not yet," Rica flushed again, firmly staring at the ground, "but he does like me, and wanted to see me."
"Too bad for him," Natia shrugged. She paused in front of their hovel, wrinkling her nose at it before turning to her sister. Gently tilting Rica's face up, she smiled. "Hopefully he likes you enough to wait a couple days."
Rica sighed. "I hope so."