Archive of Our Own ^beta

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."

Chapter Text

Natia took a long pull from the cheap ale she'd stolen from her mother, and sighed as Leske continued the joke he'd been leading up to for the past several minutes. Her attention was readily caught by a beggar hobbling towards them as fast as his shattered leg allowed.

"And the nug farmer said-" Leske immediately tensed when her focus shifted from him, and he quickly turned to see what trouble was coming. "Is that the new beggar? The smith?"

"Not a smith anymore," Natia shrugged, taking another long sip of her bitter beer. Her grimace alarmed the approaching man, and he stuttered to a stop.

"What can we do for you?" He questioned the beggar, who didn’t respond. Leske yanked the bottle from Natia's hand and took a big swig, before coughing and shaking it at her. "That is vile. Where does your mother get that shit?"

"Give it long enough and it'll burn your sense of taste out."

"More like rot your brain," he grumbled, handing the bottle back before turning again to the beggar. "Are you here for a social visit or what?"

"There's nobles."

Leske rolled his eyes. "They unfortunately exist, yes."

"Here. They're here."

Natia sighed. "Great. Today was such a good day, too."

"I mean, it doesn't have to ruin our day," Leske pointed out. "We can go hang out with the crew."

"The crew? Seriously?"

He shrugged. "They like me."

Natia made a rude noise before focusing back on the beggar. "What's your name?"

"Framin, miss." He flinched when Leske guffawed and pointed at Natia.

"He called you miss!"

"What do you want for the heads-up? Money, booze, food?" she asked, firmly ignoring her friend for the moment. She'd make him pay later.

Framin eyed the bottle dangling from her fingers. She immediately tossed it at him, and ignored Leske's snigger when the beggar scrambled to catch it. "Take it with my blessing. It's disgusting, but it'll get you drunk fast enough."

"Now scat," Leske interrupted, miming a kick at Framin as he limped away. He faced Natia and raised an eyebrow. "It's been a day. Think it's our friends from yesterday?"

"Better not be. I'll send them off with worse than a broken nose this time," she grumbled, sliding off the piece of rubble she had been using as a bench.

Leske chuckled. "You're just saying that because Rica isn't here to tell you no."

"She could try," Natia grinned as she headed down a narrow alley between hovels. It parallelled the rutted, muddy mire of a path the casteless used as their main road.

Shoving past other dwarves also skulking along the shadowed alley, Natia sighed happily when she spotted the intruders. "It is them."

It was the same noble from before, of course. Her blonde hair was once again neatly plaited and her armor was so clean it shone, but her nose was a swollen mess and both of her eyes were surrounded in blue and purple bruises.

"Well, salroka, pretty sure you broke the nose," Leske commented.

"I wonder how she explained that to her family?" Natia laughed. "If she'd admitted it was a Brand, the guards would have at least attempted to search the place."

He shrugged. "She's a warrior. Offers a pretty good excuse for most injuries."

"She actually a warrior, or just a noble who fancies herself one?"

"How would I know?" He protested, pushing an overly curious beggar away.

Natia snorted. "Can't be that good. I took her out with one punch."

"Far be it for me to ruin your fun, but weren't we going to lay low when they came through looking for us?"

"There's only two of them, you baby. We can take them."

"Not saying we can't take them, just wondering whether we should."

Natia smiled grimly. "They came looking for us. I'd hate to disappoint them."

"Can't have that," Leske sighed. "I will leave you behind if things go bad, salroka."

She clapped his shoulder painfully hard. "Don't I know it."

"That was a completely different scenario-"

"Still left me for dead, Leske, and I won't forget it."

"You were fine."

"No thanks to you."

He rolled his eyes. "Are we going to do this, or what?"

Natia eyed a crumbling support beam that had fallen from the ceiling to lean against the wall next to them. After testing its stability, she clambered up to the roof and peered at the nobles idling below. They were interrogating a beggar — giving him a silver for some reason — when Leske finally joined her.

Heaving a sigh, he nudged her over to look for himself. "So what's the plan?"

"The plan is to get one of your beggar friends to convince them to head over to Bilter's crossroad-"

"Don't call it that," he protested, rolling his eyes. "Bilter's dead ass doesn't deserve it."

"Well, he should have thought harder before double-crossing Beraht," she shrugged before wiggling backwards. "Not my fault his dismembered corpse makes a good landmark."

"That will be you someday, just wait," Leske warned, following her back down the beam.

She laughed. "Probably."

-

"Here they come," Leske sang under his breath. The woman in golden armor and her warrior companion warily approached the barren crossroad.

Natia had already warned the normal idlers away, and there was only the sullen clacking of Bilter's limbs as a sulfurous breeze brought up from the untamed lava field briefly snaked through the area. This was the worst part of Dust Town, disparagingly referred to as the Ashtray. The people unfortunate enough to live here were covered in a thick layer of soot and small burn scars from the hot ashes that drifted by.

"I can't believe they actually came all the way out here," Leske murmured, turning a serious face to his companion.

Natia shrugged and eyed their quarry. "That's their mistake. Too eager."

"You're not planning on killing them, are you?"

She shrugged again. "If I don't, I'm sure the cretins around here will. I'd do it faster."

"I don't like this, salroka," Leske protested. "I thought we'd mess around a little and then boot them out of here. I don't want anything to do with killing a noble, even one this stupid."

"I suppose we can try your way first," Natia shrugged. "I don't actually care whether they live or die."

"So how are we doing this, then?"

"I don't know. You're the one who doesn't want to kill them, you figure it out."

Leske sighed and looked around. Natia watched his eyes twitch from one point to another and waited. There wasn't much cover in the crossroad itself, where the intruders were heading, but the buildings surrounding it were a veritable maze if you didn't know the way. Snapping his fingers, he pointed at a larger than normal alley — wide enough for two to pass, instead of having to turn sideways and shimmy — where the nobles would have to walk by.

"We won't get there in time," Natia warned, already jogging towards the ambush point.

"Less talking, more running" he called from ahead. They reached their goal just as their quarry passed by, and didn't have time to catch their breath before charging out.

Natia rammed into the noble's shoulders from behind, knocking her slightly off balance, and attempted to kick the back of her knees. The woman, well armored and not a novice, stepped in the direction she was rammed, and used its force to turn around and face her enemy. Natia grinned and swung her hammer at the woman's face, who ducked and took the hit on the top of her helmet instead.

Leske's opponent roared as he dodged around him and attempted to come to the woman's aid. The point of Leske's dagger found a gap under the warrior's spaulder, up towards his armpit, and the man had to turn his attention to his own defense.

The noble reached for her sword, but Natia slammed the hammer into her fingers. "You sodding-" the woman began, dodging the hammer again before noticing the dagger Natia had been concealing in her other hand. She brought her arms up in time to block the dagger with her gauntlets, and then deflected Natia's hammer one-armed as she attempted to reach the shield still attached to her back.

"My lady!" The warrior yelled, forcing Leske back with wide swings from the sword he'd managed to free.

"You let him get the sword out?" Natia hollered, striking again at her opponent's hands with her hammer. She dodged an armored fist, as the noble tired of getting her hands smacked, and turned alongside the outstretched arm to slam the hilt of her dagger into an exposed cheek.

With a choked yell, the woman stepped back and gingerly touched the injury. Natia passed her hammer to her dagger hand. Digging the fingers of her now free hand between the woman's face and her helmet, she attempted to knock it off.

The noble reared her head back to keep the helmet on, and Natia — remembering Leske's desire to leave them alive — took the opportunity to slam the hilts of both her dagger and hammer into the woman's chin. Eyes rolling back, she collapsed in a clatter of armor.

"Sereda!" The woman's companion shouted, shoving Leske to the ground in order to reach her. Natia waited until the man was bent over the fallen woman before swinging her hammer into the gap between his helmet and his neck. He twisted to avoid most of the hit, taking it on the side of his jaw, and thrust his sword at her. She hopped back out of range, and Leske darted in to sink a dagger into the gap between his left pauldron and cuirass. Their opponent bellowed in pain and rage, briefly covering the sound of approaching armored guards.

Leske noticed first. Yanking his dagger free, he hurriedly wiped the blood on his pants and sheathed it next to his other dagger. "Time to go, salroka!"

Natia didn't acknowledge him, as she aimed a kick at the warrior crouched over the noblewoman. He grunted at the impact, and bent lower to cover more of his unconscious companion.

"Sod it, I'm out!" Leske hollered over his shoulder.

Natia leaned down, just out of range of the infuriated man, and hissed, "I told you once to stay in the Diamond District. I won't tell you again."

"I'll find you," the man threatened with bared teeth. "You won't get away with attacking Lady Aeducan!"

Laughing, she took off after Leske, only pausing long enough to holler, "I already have!"

Chapter Text

Natia gritted her teeth as Rica sighed once more. "If you are so miserable here, maybe you should go somewhere else."

Rica jumped and glanced over guiltily. She was opening her mouth to answer when their mother interrupted.

"Who would be here to take care of me then, you sodding bitch?"

Natia growled in response, pleased when both women flinched, and pushed off the wall she'd been leaning against. "Guess I'll go, then. You can wallow together."

"Natia, I'm-"

But Natia was gone, slamming the flimsy door shut with a satisfying 'smack.' It was the same as usual outside: smelly, dark, and miserable. She shrugged. At least it wasn't the Ashtray. With nowhere in particular to be, she meandered her way through the maze of alleys — searching for something to occupy herself.

It had been a dull, boring day. No one to beat up, no errands for Beraht to run, not even any indignities to fume and plot over. She and Leske were laying low after the insanity that came on the heels of the royal guard swarming Dust Town, searching for the princess. Natia found it hilarious that she had beaten down an Aeducan twice without even knowing it. Beraht had been less amused.

Leske had made himself scarce. With no home of his own, he loafed around from shack to shack; resting his head wherever he could wheedle a place. It made it difficult to track him down, which Natia assumed was the goal.

It had been a week. A week of punishment; with Natia unable to bring home any money, and Rica being barred from the parties the other noble hunters frequented. There was a part of Natia that felt sorry for her sister — Rica had been distraught when she heard the news — but mostly she was just bored and angry.

"Where do you think you're going?" the young guard demanded from his post. His belligerent stare wasn't nearly as intimidating as he wanted it to be, and she blatantly ignored him.

Instead Natia frowned, just now realizing she'd reached the official Dust Town exit. Turning to look down the path she'd been following — trying to remember where it started, to see if it would be a viable escape route — she swore she saw red when the guard whistled at her like she was an animal.

"Excuse me?" she carefully enunciated, her tone well-known to the people unlucky enough to cross her. One of the nearby beggars heard, and quietly herded her child further into the district. Natia's smile made another blanche and follow them.

Slowly turning, she locked eyes with the guard. "Do you have something you want to say?"

"I don't need to waste my breath with scum like you," he hissed, leaning closer, "so you should just turn around and go back to the refuse pile you crawled out from."

"My mother has, rightfully, been called many unpleasant things, but I think a refuse pile is new. I'll have to let her know."

"I'm not joking. Turn around. Now."

Natia laughed. "Where's the other guy? He's not as dumb as you. Maybe he can talk some sense into your empty head."

"He's being investigated for accepting bribes," the guard answered with a smug grin, "and I've been given his shifts."

"You are going to end up very dead very quickly," Natia warned. "Beraht won't deal with an annoying splinter like you."

"You won't beat me. I'm not some defenseless merchant or a foolish noble."

"Keep telling yourself that, kid," Natia drawled, walking down the main path towards her home, "but someday someone like me will beat you down into the mud, and dump your broken corpse into the lava fields."

"Is that a threat?!" He hollered.

She stopped and turned back long enough to smile. "It's a promise."

-

"So how much longer do you think he has?" Leske asked, idly thudding his heel against the wall they were leaning against. The young guard — named Veron, apparently — was on duty again, and had garnered a lot of attention with his refusal to allow people in or out of Dust Town. He demanded that they have a clear idea of what they were doing and how long they planned on doing it. Since most of the people traveling to and from the district were running illicit errands, it left many to crowd around their side of the checkpoint and howl their outrage at the new rule.

"Not long," Natia answered, watching as Jarvia frowned at the guard. She had bullied her way through, but none of her thugs were allowed to join her. Jarvia on her own wasn't nearly as intimidating as Jarvia flanked by her crew. "Think someone is going to be fool enough to try and take her on?"

"I think you're one of the few idiots who would even think about it."

Natia shrugged. "She's a bitch, and needs to be put down."

"Well, I will not be joining in on your death wish. You go right on ahead, though."

"I could take her."

"Possibly, but could you take on the rest of the crew? And Beraht?"

Natia waved dismissively. "If I were going after Jarvia, I'd be in a position to take over. It wouldn't be just me."

"Good luck with that, salroka," Leske chuckled, thudding a hand on her right shoulder before playfully shaking her. "I won't be there."

"Would never expect you to stick your neck out for me, Leske. You don't care about anyone other than yourself when it comes down to it."

"Hey now-" he protested, but cut himself off as he spotted a group of nobles heading towards them. "Brosca?"

"Yes?"

"I think we've got company."

She sighed as she spotted the Aeducan brat and her warrior companion. "They have a death wish. They really do."

"Yes, well, we aren't going to help them with that. We're going to go home and hide until they get bored, actually."

"Coward."

"We just got off restrictions," Leske protested, "Beraht will dump our still screaming bodies into the lava fields if we get caught up in noble trouble again."

Sighing, Natia pushed off the wall and headed towards the crowded guardpost. "Let's get back through quickly, then."

The closer they got to the guardpost, the thicker and rowdier the crowd got.

"Let me through!" One voice yelled.

Another voice answered, "Sod off and wait in line like the rest of us!"

"There shouldn't be a sodding line!" Another protested.

Natia elbowed an urchin in the face, and his grubby fingers left off searching for her purse to nurse his bruising nose.

"Was that necessary?" Leske chided, tucking his purse into his shirt.

"Better an elbow to the face than a dagger to his gut. Idiot needs to learn how to pick his targets." She frowned at the boy until he disappeared into the crowd. His watering eyes held a comforting amount of rage. He might make it, if he learned to channel that anger.

Natia was jostled out of her thoughts, and turned to glare at whoever had shoved her.

Jarvia smirked from beside her, an arm slung around a horrified looking Leske's shoulders. "Hello, scum."

Leske muttered something vaguely affirmative, while Natia refused to respond beyond raising her eyebrows.

"I have a job for you two," Jarvia continued, casually turning a friendly arm around Leske's shoulders into a loose chokehold, "and I will pay you well."

"Beraht know about this job?" Natia countered, ignoring Leske's wide-eyed alarm.

"Not yet, but I'm his second and I know he would approve if he were here."

"What's the job?" Leske asked somewhat breathlessly. Natia knew he had been terrified of Jarvia ever since he watched her slash a man's throat for bumping into her.

Jarvia gestured towards the densest part of the crowd, where the guardpost was. "Take care of that guard. Quick, quiet. Do not draw attention to yourselves."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Natia countered. "There are a lot of people here."

"But they can't see shit, can they? Too crowded."

"I don't like -" Leske began, freezing as Jarvia tightened her grip on his neck.

"My boys will provide some distraction as well," she placidly continued, not bothering to look away from Natia as she casually choked Leske. "I trust you'll be able to take it from there?"

Natia glanced at Leske before shrugging. "Sure, why not?"

"Excellent answer," Jarvia smirked as she abruptly released Leske. "Remember. Quick. Quiet."

Natia waggled her fingers dismissively, and waited for the other woman to disappear into the crowd before addressing Leske. "So how are we doing this?"

"You're asking me?!" Leske exclaimed. "Usually you're leading the charge."

"Jarvia said for it to be quick and quiet," Natia pointed out, reasonably. "Which is not how I work."

Leske couldn't help but chuckle. "That's the truth."

"So," she continued, kicking at yet another would-be pickpocket, "what's the plan?"

"Well… I guess you can be bait."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. That guard has it out for you-"

"I don't know why. He's never even seen me doing anything, just makes it up."

"That doesn't matter, at least in his mind. In this case, it means you will be an excellent distraction."

"So what, I just stroll up for a chat and you-"

"And I shove a dagger into his kidney and wander off."

"What do I do at that point?"

"Get the hell out of there as quickly as possible, without looking guilty."

"I never feel guilty."

"That's a lie, but you definitely choose the weirdest times to feel it."

"I don't."

Leske shrugged and melted back into the crowd as the guard came into view. "Make sure to keep his attention."

"You!" Veron yelled.

Natia smirked at him. "Who, me?"

"How did you get out here? I didn't approve it."

"Well see…" Natia drawled, strolling towards him as the crowd parted around her. "I don't need your permission."

He flushed an angry red and pointed at her. "You are not allowed to leave without-"

"Without what?" She challenged, now only a few feet from him. Refusing to look for her partner, she kept her eyes glued to the guard's.

"I thought at first that maybe what I had grown up hearing about you people couldn't be true. That you were all maligned and discriminated against," Veron hissed, leaving his station to walk the remaining feet to stand face to face with her. The crowd formed a semicircle around them, backing up to the guard post.

Natia leaned closer, close enough to feel his breath huff against her face. "And?"

"And then I met you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You are everything I was ever told. Selfish, cruel, lacking in morals. Someone who would tear the Stone apart if it seemed like it might benefit you in any small way."

Natia scoffed. Spotting movement from behind him, she stepped even closer; their chests brushed together with every breath. "Everything I do is to survive; to keep my family alive. Perhaps you can afford to be squeamish, but down here-"

The guard gasped suddenly, his body falling completely against hers. His wide eyes locked on hers as he slowly slid down to his knees. Ignoring Leske as he eased back into the murmuring crowd, Natia lifted a foot and firmly kicked him to the ground. Planting a foot on his chest, she whispered to his corpse, "Down here it's everyone for themselves. If you can't stomach that, then you die."

Taking a step back from the body, Natia groaned when she saw the party of nobles beating their way through the crowd. Her quick glare to the left sent the people on that side scattering quicker than the ones being beaten.

Dashing through the narrow passage the crowd offered her, she pushed her way free and sprinted towards the alley next to Tapster's.

"He's dead!" Someone shouted behind her, spurring her on to even greater speeds. She could hear clattering footsteps following her — far enough back that she was certain she could lose them — as she whipped around a corner of the building and entered the first of many alleys.

The Market District was not the veritable vermin warren that Dust Town was, but it had its fair share of meandering alleys to lose oneself in. Especially if that was the goal.

At the next intersection, Natia hopped over a pitiful fountain and then jumped onto the wall beside it. Balancing along the top — hoping her pursuers wouldn't shoot her — she shimmied her way to a connecting roof and clambered up.

Sinking to her belly, she crawled to the edge and peered down. The noble's warrior companion stood in the center of the intersection; glaring one way and then the other. With a grumbled complaint she couldn't hear, he turned down the alley to the right and stomped off.

Sprawling onto her back, Natia took a deep breath before rolling over and making her way across the roof. The other side was clear, and she quickly lowered herself to a signpost before jumping off and landing next to it. She took a moment to brush her front off — checking for any less than casual observers — and then walked towards the left-hand alley.

She had just started to think she was free, when a familiar set of golden armor appeared out of the corner of her eye. The Aeducan brat hadn't spotted her yet – her back was to Natia – but Natia found herself unable to resist. "You enjoy getting pummeled, my lady?"

Aeducan whirled around — blinking wide blue eyes — and hurriedly pulled her sword and shield. She hesitated before answering, "Only when it's you and your friend."

Natia laughed as she unsheathed her knife and pulled her hammer from her belt. "My friend hasn't done anything to you. Just me."

"Are you able to defeat me without the advantage of surprise?"

"I'm up for the challenge," Natia goaded, approaching the noble with a decided spring in her step, "are you?"

Aeducan's response was a precise slash of her sword. Natia dodged to the right and swung her hammer at the exposed arm. The other woman swung her shield over to absorb the hit, and then used it to push Natia back.

Not fighting the backwards force, Natia let herself get pushed away until the shield pulled back. Swiftly ducking down, she shoved her shoulder into the shield — forcing it towards the noble at an upwards angle — and attempted to slide her dagger behind the shield.

Grunting, Aeducan stepped back to dodge the dagger, and then angled the shield to the left so she could swing her sword over.

Natia rolled under the sword and came up on her knees to slam her hammer into the unprotected area behind Aeducan's right knee. Regaining her feet as the noble stumbled, Natia's next blow was to the sword arm.

The other woman hissed in pain, but didn't drop her weapon. Instead she swung around and attempted another shield bash. The blow knocked Natia back a single step, before she kicked at the right knee.

Aeducan swore and thrust her sword forward. "Why must you always go for the legs?"

"I just like seeing you on your back," Natia jeered, laughing as she jumped out of range.

"You insolent-"

Taking advantage of her opponent's outrage, Natia dashed behind the shield — too close for Aeducan to bring her sword in — and scraped her dagger against armored ribs. The other woman flinched at the sound and tried to move away, but Natia pressed herself even closer. Snaking an arm between their bodies, she mimed a hit at Aeducan's jaw. When her opponent tilted out of the way, Natia slid a leg behind the other woman's knee and then pushed against her chest.

Thrown off balance, Aeducan fell backwards with a clatter of armor. Natia fell with her — freeing her limbs so she could land on top — and pressed the tip of her dagger against the other woman's throat.

They lay there, panting, for a few moments, before Natia carefully leaned forward. "I believe I have won again, my lady." A scowl was the response, but Natia chuckled and increased the pressure until a line of red began to show around her dagger. "Concede."

Aeducan closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath. "I concede."

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Natia drawled, ever so slowly sliding the dagger down her opponents neck — admiring the red line it left behind, a pseudo throat cut — before pulling it away. Sheathing her weapons, she ducked forward to press her lips to Aeducan's with an obnoxious 'mwah!' before clambering off. "You accept defeat so prettily."

She glanced back once to see Aeducan's response, and had to smother a giggle. Her opponent was braced up on her shoulders with a perplexed expression, watching her go.

Natia faced forward and hopped onto a wall and up to another roof; already relishing Leske's shock and outrage when she told him. He'd never believe it.

Chapter Text

"I don't believe you."

Natia rolled her eyes. "It's been three weeks, Leske. Get over it."

"This isn't just something you get over, salroka," Leske muttered as he sipped his beer. "You kissed a sodding noble, and I wasn't there to see it."

"It was just a peck, nothing exciting."

"Says you…"

Natia sighed and resumed crowd watching. Tapster's was busy this evening. A rowdy bunch of nobles slumming in the Market District drunkenly solicited the busy barmaids, who simpered as long as they could before the bartender's bellows brought them trotting to get the next round of drinks. She and Leske were tucked into the corner opposite the bar, and were enjoying a few drinks before heading home.

"Sodding nobles need to stick to their area of town," Natia grouched, watching her sister and a few other noble hunters attempt to keep the nobles' attention. Rica didn't seem to be trying too hard; absently smiling at the man she was standing next to while sweeping her eyes across the room. She nodded at Natia when their eyes met.

"Makes your sister's job easier."

"No it won't. Whoever she's working doesn't want to be seen with her."

"Is he a purist, ashamed of his side bit?"

"She's not a side bit. Noble hunters don't count for anything until they get pregnant, and they go right back to nothing if the babe is female."

Leske grunted. "You'd think she'd put effort into someone who isn't so mysterious."

"Rica doesn't do anything the easy way if she can help it."

"True enough." Leske chuckled.

Natia glanced away from her sister, back into the crowd, and groaned when she saw Aeducan and her warrior. "Again?"

"What?" Leske asked, leaning to peer over her shoulder. He swore when he saw the noble. "Is she a masochist?"

"I'm starting to think she is," Natia grumbled, trying to hide behind the archway separating their cozy nook from all the other nooks.

"Or maybe she wants another kiss?" Leske teased as he shifted to give Natia more room to move.

"You won't enjoy what I'm going to do to you once they're gone."

"Save the flirting for the princess, salroka. I think she's spotted us."

Sure enough, the two of them were winding their way towards them through the crowded tables and unevenly spaced chairs.

"Are we running?" Leske asked, his body tensed against hers.

"Let's see what she wants," Natia smirked at the approaching noble, who stopped just out of kicking range. "We aren't supposed to pick fights in here."

Leske nodded sagely. "Tapster's rules."

"And you follow these rules?" The warrior scoffed.

"If we want to drink, we do," Natia shrugged, before taking a sip of her drink. "We have to go outside to fight, and I don't feel like fighting right this second."

"It's been a long day," Leske agreed, casually leaning into the wall.

Aeducan braced an arm on the archway above Natia's head. "I'm not here for a fight, actually."

"Oh?" Natia drawled, ignoring the noble's attempt to loom over her. "Then what are you here for?"

"The other nobles are over there," Leske helpfully pointed out the raunchy crowd.

Gorim snorted. "We're not here for those lackwits."

Aeducan dropped down to crouch next to Natia. "I would like to spar with you."

"Spar?" Natia scoffed, joining in with Leske's guffaw. "We don't spar around here."

"Then how do you train?"

"Training is being thrown into a fight and seeing who survives," Natia shrugged. "You figure it out pretty quick."

"Or you die," Leske added.

Natia shrugged again. "Or you die."

"That doesn't seem very… effective?" Aeducan said, seemingly ignoring the side eye her warrior companion was giving her.

"It's very effective. You learn or you die. Simple, easy." Leske

"You forget, my lady," Natia leaned closer to the noble, smiling when her fair brow furrowed, "down here children are just more mouths to feed."

"It doesn't matter how many of us die," Leske agreed, "there's always more."

"But-" Aeducan began, before being cut off by her companion.

"No one cares about Brands, my lady, not even the other Brands."

She frowned at him before turning to Natia. "But we need children. Our armies-"

"Your armies don't take Brands. No one anywhere takes Brands except for the Legion of the Dead, and no one wants to join that."

Leske nodded. "They won't even take us to be front row fodder. Not good enough to deserve the honor of getting stomped into a stinking, slimy layer of sludge."

"Why do you want training from us anyway?" Natia questioned. "Surely you have the best of trainers already?"

The noble pursed her lips before sighing. "I've never been in an actual battle before. It's all sparring and Provings."

"We can tell," Leske jibed. He smirked at her outraged companion.

"My lady!" The warrior protested, setting a hand on her shoulder. "I told you this was a bad idea. We should leave."

"What does being in an actual battle matter?" Natia asked, eyes focused on Aeducan's.

"I will be fighting Darkspawn soon," Aeducan admitted. She paused a moment before adding, "I will be in charge of men fighting Darkspawn."

Natia frowned. "You've never fought Darkspawn before?"

"No."

"Then why are they putting you in charge?!" Leske exclaimed.

"Noble brats are ranked too high to actually earn their way up," Natia pointed out. "Aeducan brats apparently get commands fresh out of the nursery, though."

"How dare-" the warrior began, attempting to pull Aeducan out of the way. She stayed in place, however, much to his frustration. "My lady! If you won't deal with them, let me!"

"There's no need, Gorim. They're not wrong."

"My lady?!"

Aeducan shrugged. "We both know I shouldn't be made a commander yet."

Gorim frowned at them before leaning forward to try and whisper to Aeducan. "My lady, we shouldn't be here. They can't help."

"Trian pushed Father into it, expecting me to fail," Aeducan confided to Natia, "but I am determined to succeed."

"Just stand behind your experienced men," Leske advised, taking a sip of his beer before leaning back into the booth and smiling at Gorim. "They'll show you what to do."

"No. I lead from the front."

"They won't let you anywhere near the front," Leske scoffed.

"Why would you lead if you don't know what you're doing?" Natia demanded. "That's an excellent way to get you and your men killed."

Aeducan placidly smiled. "You wouldn't understand."

"Ah," Leske said, nudging Natia's shoulder, "it's an honor thing."

"Good thing we don't have honor," Natia chuckled.

Leske nodded, pretending not to see Gorim's face flushing a dangerous red. "Honor down here means dead."

"Like that guard you killed?!" The warrior burst out. "The one who wouldn't allow himself to be bribed?"

"Yes, exactly," Natia answered. "He had too much pride and an inflated sense of what honor called for him to do."

"And look who's back in place, still alive and working?" Leske added.

Gorim grimaced. "Guardsman Maren should have been demoted, not immediately given back his post."

"Maren understands this world, though," Aeducan said slowly.

"And so he lives," Leske agreed, raising his cup to her.

Gorim spat on the floor, then quickly swiped at it with his boot — muttering an apology — when Aeducan raised an eyebrow at him.

Sighing, Aeducan looked back at Natia. "I need you to teach me. Please?"

Leske laughed. "Would've never thought we'd see the day when a noble was pleading with us to beat them up."

"It is rather strange," Natia agreed, keeping her eyes locked to the noble's, "but I can see her point."

Sensing a weakening of Natia's resolve, Aeducan added, "I will pay you for your time, of course."

"How much?" Leske asked suspiciously.

"Beraht won't be happy if we're taking jobs from anyone other than him," Natia protested. "He was angry we listened to Jarvia last time."

Leske rolled his eyes. "You're the one acting like you want to do this."

"You work for Beraht?" Gorim asked. He frowned at Natia's nod and turned to Aeducan. "We don't want anything to do with them, my lady. Anything involving that thug is not worth our time."

Natia tsked. "Not really the place to insult our boss. This area is under his control."

Aeducan shook her head. "You really work for him?"

"Not really much choice around here," Natia answered.

Leske chuckled. "Natia could have been a noble hunter, if she weren't such an uncultured bitch."

Natia elbowed him in the gut and then stole his beer, chugging it while he protested.

"Yours is still half full, Brosca!"

A gold coin clattered onto the table, silencing them both. Aeducan stood and stretched her back. "How about we start with that as payment?"

The two casteless dwarves stared at it for a moment, before Leske looked up and narrowed his eyes. "One each."

"How dare-"

"Does he say anything else?" Natia asked, casually ignoring Gorim's sputtering.

"He's talkative when it's just us," Aeducan shrugged. "Though he can't exactly chastise me like that."

"He finds other ways to let you know he disapproves?"

Aeducan shrugged again. "If he thinks it will stop me."

The women shared an amused smile before Leske interrupted. "This is real sweet and all, but I didn't get an answer."

Sighing, Aeducan pulled another golden coin from her purse and handed it to Natia. Leske snatched the one from the table and smirked at Gorim.

The noble smiled. "When do we start?"

-

Some time later Aeducan, sans armor, lay flat on her back in a courtyard near Tapster's. Her blonde hair was frizzing out of its bun and her fine clothes were sweat soaked and grimy with alley dust.

"How am I supposed to learn anything on my back?" The noble grumbled, taking a deep breath before sitting up.

Leske chuckled. "There's a lot a girl can learn on her back, my lady."

Natia would have smacked him, but Gorim charged him first. Shrugging, she turned away from their wrestling match to offer a hand to the other woman.

"Well, my lady-"

"You don't have to constantly 'my lady' me," Aeducan protested, accepting the help with a grunt. "Gorim won't cut it out, but I really do prefer to go by name."

Natia paused. "I don't know your name."

"I don't know yours either, aside from your family name."

"Why do you know my family name?" Natia asked suspiciously.

"Your companion has called you 'Brosca' a few times. It doesn't sound like a given name."

Natia hummed in thought for a moment before shrugging. "I'm Natia. That's Leske."

The noble smiled. "I'm Sereda, and my second is Gorim."

Natia nodded, then swiftly swept the noble's legs out from under her again.

"Sod it all!" Sereda yelled, scowling up at Natia. "We weren't fighting then!"

"Yes we were, you just forgot."

"You haven't answered my question," Sereda grumpily pointed out. "Why are you just knocking me down constantly? Why aren't we wearing armor or using weapons?"

Natia held a hand out once more. "If you get knocked on your ass, then you're probably dead. Especially in full armor."

Sereda groaned as she regained her feet.

"So you first need to learn how to not get knocked on your ass," Natia continued, kicking at the noble's right ankle.

"And then?" Sereda dodged and swung a fist at Natia, who blocked it.

"Then we'll teach you what to do if you do get knocked down."

"I thought you said we would likely die," Sereda protested.

Leske grabbed Sereda's arm from behind and attempted to flip her over his hip. He chuckled when she shrugged out of his hold and jumped back. "In your armor? Definitely."

"But you can still fight even down there," Natia said, hands on hips. "You think we don't get knocked off our feet occasionally?"

"Everyone tries for that," Leske agreed. He grunted when Gorim tackled him to the ground. Elbowing the warrior in the face and rolling back up to his feet, he continued slightly breathlessly, "Easiest way to take someone down."

Brosca nodded. "But the most important thing is to NOT lose your footing."

"That's how you've gotten me, the other times we fought," Sereda mused.

"Yup. Which is why we're working on that now."

A shuffle of feet from behind alerted Natia to the people sneaking up behind them. She sized them up — no one she knew, but definitely thugs — before one stepped forward and spoke.

"Sister dearest?"

Natia had a moment of bafflement before Sereda joined her. "Yes, Bhelen?"

"A guardsman was kind enough to let me know that Trian is looking for us."

Sereda swore as she crossed to her pile of armor and began putting it on. Gorim helped her before starting on his own, with Sereda assisting him in return.

She paused for a moment before looking to Natia. "Do you even wear armor?"

"Us?" Leske guffawed. "Why would we wear armor?"

"The casteless aren't allowed armor, Sereda," Bhelen added with a cool, soothing tone to his voice. "The smith caste would never sully their work like that."

"We have bits of leather," Natia shrugged. "I have a wide leather belt and a gorget I wear when I know I'm going into a fight."

"But otherwise we just dodge," Leske said, standing behind Natia.

"You can't dodge everything all the time," one of the warriors with Bhelen protested.

"Try me," Leske boasted. He smirked when Bhelen stopped his men with a hand gesture.

"Of course we get hit sometimes," Natia admitted, looking to Sereda. She winked and added, "I'll show you my scars some time."

Smirking when she saw the blush on the other woman's cheeks, she nodded to Leske. "Time to go."

"Will I find you here again?" Sereda called, ignoring Gorim's hand on her arm.

"We'll be around," Leske promised.

Natia gave a quick wave and then left without saying a word.

Leske followed at her heels. "Not going to flirt some more? I think she was into it."

"I'll flirt when I feel like it, Leske."

"So you ARE flirting?"

Stopping in her tracks, Natia stuck out a foot and tripped her friend. Leaning over him, she poked a finger into his forehead. "I do what I want, when I want, and don't need any input from you."

"I'll have you know I'm a champion flirt," Leske grumbled, accepting her hand up. "Everybody likes me."

"I don't need any help."

He shrugged. "Fine, alright. You do whatever it is you're doing. I'll laugh at your sorry ass when you fuck it up, though."

"I'll make you regret it," Natia warned, making her way towards Dust Town.

Leske chuckled ruefully. "You always do, salroka."

Chapter Text

By the time a month had passed, Natia found herself seriously questioning the superiority of the Warrior and Noble castes. Not that she had ever thought they were as good as they portrayed themselves to be, but she had, at least, believed them to be proficient in their weapons training.

A large part of Sereda’s problem was purely that she was an Aeducan – being her father’s favorite hadn’t helped, either – and so the men in charge of her training had been more lenient, and willing to rain unwarranted praise upon the princess.

Gorim had better training - proving Natia’s point that Sereda’s position was at fault - but even he hadn’t been trained to street fight, and so fell for every dirty trick in the book.

The public narrative of brave warriors being overcome by sheer numbers of Darkspawn seemed slightly less plausible now.

There was a beggar, a warrior who had deserted and been caught and made casteless, who could attest to how wiley the Darkspawn were. Natia had listened to his drunken ravings with more than a little skepticism, but now she wondered how much of it was truth. Sereda’s life depended on it, and that thought made Natia uncomfortable.

Deciding she had done enough thinking, Natia casually walked up behind the princess and attempted to kick out the back of her left knee. She was pleased when Sereda shifted away and swung her shield back between them. The side of the shield clipped her shoulder as Natia stuck to Sereda’s back, following her movements and staying out of range.

"Natia!" Sereda yelled exasperatedly. "You said you weren't sparring today!"

Natia laughed. "All this time, and you still believe me."

"Never trust Brosca," Leske warned, taking advantage of Sereda's distraction to rake his dagger against her right vambrace.

Sereda growled and swung her sword out wide to shift him out of her space. She then spun the opposite direction to try and shield bash Natia.

Natia jumped out of range in time to duck under Gorim's swing. She jeered, "Thought you had me, huh?"

His response was to hack straight down towards her, his heavy sword gripped in two hands.

"Too slow," Natia taunted, easily rolling away and coming up to his right. She slammed her hammer into the gap where his vambrace and rerebrace met on the underside of his arm.

"You sodding bitch!" He exclaimed, almost dropping his sword. Shaking his hand out, he swung back in a wide arc.

Leske appeared on Gorim's left and tapped the hilt of his dagger into the warrior's armpit. "Dead!"

"I am not-" Gorim started, but Natia tuned him out in favor of resuming her fight with Sereda.

She turned just in time to get a shield directly into her face, almost knocking her to the ground. "Fuck! Ow!"

Sereda — who had pulled back as soon as she realized the shield was no longer aimed at the back of Natia's head — have her guiltily look. "I'm sorry, Natia! I didn't think you were going to turn like that!"

"Get distracted, salroka?" Leske jibed. He had carefully spaced himself out of range, and laughed as Natia scowled at him.

She was contemplating throwing her hammer at him — he was close enough that she could probably manage it, but the risk of missing and being laughed at was higher than she would like — when stomping feet and raucous voices alerted them to an incoming gang.

"Well look who it is, Brosca!" Leske cried. Striding forward, he clasped hands with a few of the men. He grinned back over his shoulder at her. "It's the crew!"

Natia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Leske, I know who they are."

"Heard you were tumbling around with some nobles," Hagrir commented, calmly surveying the four of them. "We thought we might join in."

"Yeah," a newer guy, one whose name Natia didn't know, added with a leer, "wouldn't want to miss out on all the fun."

Leske awkwardly chuckled and tried to place himself between his usual friends and his current companions. "You guys know Brosca doesn't play well with others."

"Seems to be doing well enough with the nobles," another man observed. "I think you been lying about her."

"Whatever dire warnings he's given you," Natia hissed, "they are NOTHING compared to the reality."

The gang laughed, ranging from full-blown guffaws to nervous chuckles, and their disunity was obvious in the way they shifted against each other; some moving closer to her and others trailing behind. Some of these people knew what she was capable of. The others would learn.

"Wait!" Leske yelled, whirling around to face her. "I've got an idea!"

"What kind of idea?" Gorim growled.

Natia didn't respond beyond a raised eyebrow.

Their lack of enthusiasm didn't faze Leske. "We can have a team battle!"

"A team battle?" Hagrir repeated slowly.

"Yes," Leske confirmed, turning to face Natia. "You were just telling them how bad they'd be against a group — like the Darkspawn tend to travel in — so we can give them some practice."

Sereda was nodding thoughtfully, but Gorim was not convinced. "I will not have a bunch of Branded thugs attacking my lady."

"Gorim-"

"No, my lady! It's bad enough with just two of them. We're not adding more."

"You heard the man," Natia shrugged. "No fun to be had around here. Maybe you should all go back to Dust Town?"

"Maybe you're as tough as they say, and maybe you aren't," one of the young men warned, "but you definitely don't get to tell us what to do."

Leske sighed gustily at the grin on Natia's face. "Did you have to say that?"

Natia charged at the group, scattering them, before twirling around to smack her hammer into a flabby stomach. The man hunched over and began to vomit, as she swung the hammer out wide to fend off two of the man's friends.

Hopping back out of range, she thrust her dagger forward into another man's shoulder. She sidestepped a wild blade and brought her hammer down onto the head of the man she had stabbed. His screaming stopped, and the man who had been trying to run her through tripped over the unconscious body.

"Don't kill anyone, Brosca!" Leske hollered.

Natia didn't bother answering, yanking her dagger out of someone's thigh to block a woman's dagger. Her hammer forced the other woman to take a step back. Natia thrust their daggers up high, and aimed a savage kick at an exposed knee. The woman collapsed, clutching her leg.

The flat of a blade slammed into Natia's chest, knocking the breath from her body. Wheezing, she reeled back into an armored body.

"Move, Brand!" Gorim yelled, lifting his shield overhead to catch a blow that would have split her head open. He elbowed her to the side and advanced on Hagrir.

The throbbing ache across her chest pissed her off, causing her to hit harder with the hammer and to use her dagger more than she normally would have. One unfortunate opponent was disarmed by a hammer blow to her dagger hand, and then was knocked flat on her back by a kick to the gut. Natia stomped on the other woman's dagger hand, then kicked dust at her face.

A shield slid from the left into her peripheral vision, and she turned to watch Sereda bash a long-haired opponent into another dwarf. Sereda took a second to smirk at her. "No thanks necessary."

"Good," Natia answered, using her hammer hand to backhand the woman from before to the ground once more, "because I wasn't going to thank you."

Sereda laughed as her shield smashed someone's nose, and Natia felt a shiver shoot down her spine. A dagger sliced through her pants, leaving a shallow scratch on her right thigh, and Natia decided to ignore whatever that feeling was for now. There were still idiots to educate.

"Come on guys!" Leske shouted, "I think we've had enough fun! Cut it out!"

"Brosca attacked first!"

"Come here," Natia hollered, trying to pinpoint who had said that, "and I'll make sure to finish with you!"

"Enough!" Someone bellowed. Everyone shifted away to reveal a rather disheveled Hagrir. He spat at Gorim's feet and glared at Natia. "Now look what you've done!"

A collective pause — broken by their haggard breathing — as they glanced around to find themselves surrounded by a murmuring crowd.

"Why are you stopping?" A man demanded. He pointed at Gorim. "I had money on him winning that fight!"

Hagrir — who had been Gorim's opponent — spat again and glowered at an unrepentant Natia. Dragging his eyes away, he scowled at the three dwarves lying on the ground. Gesturing for one of the young men to examine them, he grunted when told they were alive and met Natia's eyes again. "You are a sodding bitch."

"That's what we tell people," she shrugged, "and yet they still just have to try me."

"I think we're good for today, though, right?" Leske asked, insinuating himself into the conversation as he stood between them. Neither answered, too busy scowling, and Leske firmly slapped his hands together. "Let's just head out, then?"

Sereda's armored hand landed heavily on her shoulder. "I agree with Leske."

"Who asked you?" Someone from the crowd grumbled as everyone dispersed.

"You alright, my lady?" Gorim asked without looking. He watched as their opponents slowly scattered, still holding his unsheathed sword tightly. It wasn't returned to its scabbard until the injured dwarves had been gathered up as well.

Sereda's sword had been sheathed as soon as the fight ended, and she was meticulously checking her armor for dents and scratches. She noticed Natia's regard and blushed a pretty pink. "This armor was a gift from Father. It's very pretty, though not all that practical."

"Prince Bhelen certainly derived some amusement from it," Gorim grumbled.

"Yes, Gorim," Sereda sighed, her tone suggesting that this was a long-standing argument, "I'm also certain he was the one who put the idea into my father's head, but Father was the one who commissioned golden armor."

Leske snorted. "Golden armor. What will they think of next?"

"Can we go?" Natia asked, shifting her weight off her right leg. "I don't particularly want to take my pants off in public."

Sereda blinked. "Why would-?"

"How bad is it?" Leske demanded, kneeling next to the injured leg.

"Just a scratch," Natia grumbled, "but it's getting blood all over my good pants."

Gorim's unimpressed expression said that there was nothing good about those pants. Sereda smacked his shield arm and took a step towards them. "Will you be ok?"

Natia waved her concern off. "Nothing a bandage and some booze can't fix."

"So where are we doing this?" Leske stood, slapping the dust from his knees. "We going back to Dust Town?"

"I want to come with," Sereda declared.

The two casteless dwarves shared a glance before simultaneously shrugging. Natia shook her head. "Not Dust Town, then, if you're coming along."

"Why not?" Gorim growled. He'd finally sheathed his blade, and was now obviously eager to leave.

"Because that's where our friends from earlier are going," Leske pointed out. "They'd leave Brosca 'n me alone — we live there too — but would stir up trouble if nobles came along for a friendly visit."

"I'm not a noble," Gorim protested.

Natia rolled her eyes. "As if they care. We going to Elindo, then?"

"Yup," Leske agreed, popping his 'p.' "See if we can convince him he still owes us."

"Owes you for what?" Sereda inquired.

"This 'n that," Natia evaded, giving Leske the stink eye when he chuckled.

"Alright then," Sereda said slowly. "So which way?"

Luckily for them, their destination was close by. Lucky for Natia, anyway, as her thigh began to burn by the time they got there. Their healer friend — a trainee drop out — patched her up easily enough, and examined everyone else while he was at it. Declaring himself free of any nonsense debts, he firmly sent them out the door as soon as he was finished.

"Well, he was… thorough," Sereda commented, rubbing at the goo he'd spread across her forehead "I hadn't even realized I had a bruise there."

Natia stretched her legs out and then jumped up and down. She shrugged at their confused expressions. "Making sure I'm good to go."

"So where to next?" Leske asked.

Gorim grunted. "We go our separate ways."

"You can go if you'd like, Gorim, but I would like to stay with Natia."

"Hey! What about me?" Leske demanded with a pout.

"We're stuck with you," Natia grumbled. "The only sure way to get you to leave, is to be in mortal peril. And I've had enough of that today."

"Agreed," Sereda sighed. Giving Natia a sidelong glance, she added, "I think talking about past death defying adventures could be fun, though."

"Oh yeah?" Natia laughed. "Where did that idea come from?"

"She's just curious about all your scars, salroka. I saw her eyeing them when Elindo was patching up your boo boos."

Sereda's cheeks colored, and she kicked dust at him. "That's not-"

"You impertinent scamp!" Gorim growled. He stepped between Leske and the women, and began arguing with him.

The women strolled along in peace for a few minutes — ignoring the grumbles from behind them — before Natia smirked. "So what scars are you interested in?"

"All of them."

Natia laughed. "I'm not going to give away all my secrets. You need to choose a few."

"Ask about the one on her right eyebrow!"

"We agreed never to speak of that!" Natia yelled without looking at the men.

"I didn't agree," Leske pointed out. "You threatened me. There's a difference."

Sereda's lips quirked up into a bemused smile. "So what's the story?"

"I am not telling the story," she paused to glare at Leske. "NO ONE is telling the story. I will say that a nug did it, and that is as much information as anyone needs."

"A nug?" Gorim questioned disdainfully.

Natia shifted her glare from Leske to the warrior. "I was three."

"And it was a big nug-"

"Shut up, Leske."

Chuckling, he let it drop. "Pick another one, my lady."

Natia watched Sereda's eyes dance across her face, before the noble pointed at the scar on Natia's left eyelid.

Shrugging, Natia pointed at Leske. "He led me-"

"Us!"

"-into a trap, where a surprisingly nimble old man almost cut my eye out."

"You're exaggerating-"

"Tell that to the scar on my literal eyelid, Leske. You can't get much closer to an eyeball without actually cutting it."

"Well, he wasn't trying to blind you on purpose-"

"What do I care about his intentions?!"

"We're at the upper Market District," Gorim announced to no one in particular.

This area of town was home to the high ranking families who weren't good enough for the Diamond District, primarily the Warrior, Merchant, and Smith castes. The streets were swept clean twice a day, the guards patrolling the area fined anyone they found leaving trash lying around, and the fountains ran with clear, cold water. Brands were not normally allowed in the area, and, even with a noble and warrior escort, Leske and Natia were getting dirty looks.

"Seems like the only trash around here is you and me, salroka," he stretched casually, pretending to not notice the guards.

Natia shrugged. "What are they going to do? Slap my lady's hands and tell her to make better choices?"

"They might," Sereda laughed as she led them back towards the Market District proper, "so don't give them any ideas."

"My lady-" Gorim protested. "We need to return to the palace. Prince Trian-"

"I don't care what Trian wants, I want to be with my friends."

There was an awkward pause in conversation as they waded through the crowded streets. Natia spent the time wondering what Sereda did when she wasn't with them. She never seemed in a hurry to leave, and often found reasons to linger. Gorim usually had to drag her back to the palace.

"I know the last scar I want to ask about today," Sereda announced, ushering Natia into a recessed cubby with a small bench. She stroked the scar along Natia's jaw. "This one."

"It was my first solo mission," Natia began, swallowing at the sensation of the tender touch. She batted Sereda's hand away when she continued running her fingers up and down the long scar. "Leske had just gotten me a gorget. I didn't get it tied on properly, and almost had my throat slit."

"And ruined a very expensive gift!"

"It wasn't ruined," Natia argued, trying to ignore Sereda's soft expression, "I wore it for months afterwards."

"Because you were pigheaded and stupid."

"How long ago was this?" Gorim drawled. "It doesn't sound much different from now."

"Ha, ha," Natia deadpanned. Leske guffawed in the background.

"Well," Sereda began, running her fingers down Natia's throat once last time before moving back, "I, for one, am glad you've survived."

"Yeah," Leske agreed. "That nug, though-"

Sereda laughed as Natia shoved him.

Gorim shook his head. "Nugs."

Chapter Text

Natia knew it was going to be a bad day when Beraht came knocking at her door. She had spent the morning listening to her mother alternate whining about her daughters and begging for more booze — with Rica attempting to cajole her into a reasonable mood — and had been debating leaving the house without waiting for Leske when the door slammed open.

"Knock, knock," Beraht intoned, gesturing for his lackies to stand outside the doorway.

"Beraht!" Rica exclaimed. She hurriedly stepped around their mother while guiding him towards their seating area. Kalah was passed out on the far end of the couch.

Beraht shook his head when Rica motioned for him to take a seat. "I'm not here for long, girls, just checking in on my investment."

"What's the plan for Rica today, then?" Natia asked. "Since I'm assuming I don't count as an investment."

Ignoring her, Beraht looked Rice up and down and tsked. "I can't keep gambling on you forever, precious. You haven't been putting any effort into catching anyone's eye recently."

"I already have someone," Rica blurted, flushing when her sister and Beraht both stared at her, "or at least I think I do. He seems interested."

"And why haven't I heard about this, then?"

"I didn't want to presume- Someone like him… I thought I was imagining it, perhaps, or taking things too seriously."

"Who is it?" Beraht prodded, attempting to sound patient.

Rica shook her head. "I don't want to say yet, in case I'm wrong."

"I'll give you one week," he said eventually. His eyes were hard and calculating. "You have never led me on before, precious, and you better not start now."

"Then leave her alone and tell me my job for today," Natia interrupted, not liking the way he was eyeing her sister.

"Your buddy Leske is waiting outside. He has the details," Beraht frowned at her. "Don't mess this up. I don't have a lot of patience left for your family."

Nodding at his guards, Beraht marched off, leaving the door open. Natia glared after him, wishing she was able to tell him to bugger off like she did Leske. Turning back to her sister, she was surprised to see the melancholy expression on her face.

"I hate what this place is doing to you," Rica shook her head and sighed. "You were such a loving child."

Natia snorted. "I don't think we remember our childhood the same."

Rica paced, eyes shifting from the floor to Natia and back to the floor again. "I haven't wanted to worry you, but Beraht has been impatient with me for a while."

"Some warning would have been nice," Natia said slowly, watching her normally calm sister's restless movement. "Beraht expects too much from you, though."

"You know how desperate the nobles are for sons," Rica continued as if she couldn't hear her. "If I can bear one of them a son, then we will be raised up from here, all of us, and never worry about anything again."

"Does everyone include me?" Leske joked, leaning in the open doorway.

Natia picked up a rock and chucked it in his general direction, smiling at his surprised yelp.

Rica shook her head. "You should get out of here, before Beraht finds out you haven't left yet."

"You said there was a noble?" Natia prodded, disliking her sister's secrecy.

Rice smiled and blushed. "Yes, at least I think so. He's charming and kind. He treats me like a lady, not just someone to tumble and forget."

"Who is it?"

"I don't want to say, in case I'm wrong. I can't believe one of the most important men in Orzammar could be interested in me…"

"I'm an important man," Leske called, safely out of sight now.

"Leske, you nug-humper, if you don't butt out-"

"It's fine," Rica interrupted, "I need to get dressed anyway, and you really do need to go."

"We do!"

Natia rolled her eyes and gave her sister one final look. "You going to be ok?"

"Of course," Rica smiled. "Now get out of here. Stay out of trouble. I'll see you tonight."

"Pretty sure our job is trouble," Leske drawled as Natia headed towards him.

Rica scoffed and went into her room.

Kalah lurched awake as Natia passed her. "Whozzat? Why are you bothering me?"

Natia snorted. "It's the king of Orzammar. I heard you were single."

Her mother didn't seem to hear Leske's snickers, instead scowling at her daughter. "Don't you sass me, you ungrateful brat! I made you, and I can make another just like you."

"Never mind," Natia said through gritted teeth. "Sleep it off. Again."

"Always bothering me," her mother grumbled as she drifted again, "I've got important things to do..."

Leske's snickers turned into full-blown gales of laughter as Natia finally made it to the door. "Important things to do-"

"Ha ha," Natia muttered, elbowing him in the side. "Just tell me what we're doing. I want to get this over with."

"We're off to beat yet another Duster for trying to cheat Beraht."

"Where does he find these idiots?" She grumbled. "What sort of goods?"

"No idea. That's what we're going to find out."

"Lovely," she sighed. "I do so enjoy trying to figure out what Beraht wants from some lying idiot. Who is it?"

Leske shrugged. "His name's Oskias. Haven't heard of him."

"Know where he's at?"

"I was told 'find him,' so no."

"Even better," Natia sighed again. "Start at Tapster's?"

"Might as well."

The trip to Tapster's was short and easy this time of day. Most people were either still sleeping off the excesses of the night before, or were already working. Guardsman Maren nodded at them as they approached. Nodding back, the two of them passed by without saying anything and continued on towards the bar.

"Leske!" A woman's voice called.

He whirled around, hand on the hilt of his dagger, before spotting the woman calling to him. "Olinda!"

"You old scamp! What're you doing here?" She asked, before giving him a flirtatious sidelong glance. "Trying to charm me out of more fripperies for your girl?"

"My girl? I don't have a girl, Olinda! You know my heart's breaking for you."

The older woman giggled. "Don't you go saying that around my husband."

"My offer to duel him for your hand still stands."

"Oh, stop," she waved a hand at him with a smile. "You've got a girl right there!"

Natia pretended to look behind her before turning back and pointing at herself. "Who, me?"

Leske groaned. "No, not Brosca. She emasculates me as it is. I don't need to give her anything else over me."

Both women laughed, and Olinda waved them off as a customer approached.

"Can we get back to work?" He whined.

Still chuckling, Natia turned around and headed towards Tapster's. "Good thing she's already married. She's too good for you."

"I am very good at what I do," Leske grumbled behind her.

"No casteless!" The bartender hollered as they entered, barely looking up from his cleaning.

"Better look again, friend," Leske hollered back.

The bartender, Bolin, glanced up, ready to insist, when he finally got a good look at them. "Oh. It's you two. Don't you have work to do, or something?"

"We're here on the hunt, actually," Natia answered, sidling up to the bar.

Bolin gave her a swift, appreciative glance before sniffing. "Who're you looking for?"

"Guy named Oskias."

"He's here actually," Bolin shrugged, pointing to a center table out in the open. A man sat by himself at a table that normally sat six.

"Well that's convenient," Leske said quietly. "They don't normally make it this easy."

"Been nursing that same mug half the day," the bartender commented. "Paid up front, though, good silver. What's he done?"

"Made Beraht unhappy. Not a great idea."

"I'll say," Bolin sighed. "You go do what you have to, just try and keep it neat. I'm still paying for this space."

"No promises," Natia warned.

Leske rolled his eyes and added, "We'll do our best, however."

The bartender nodded and stepped back from the bar, watching them as they approached their quarry.

Natia slid into the seat across from Oskias, raising a brow when he sputtered at her.

"Hey! I was saving that seat!"

"Well that's really thoughtful of you, Oskias. It's tiring work tracking down idiots who piss off Beraht."

Natia chuckled at his instant horror. "Did you think Beraht wouldn't find out you're cheating him?"

"Cheating? No! I've always been loyal to Beraht. He's been good to my family, I know that."

"And won't your family be oh so sad when they find out what happens when someone double crosses him?" Natia asked with a razor sharp smile.

Oskias shuddered and turned to Leske, as the less threatening of the two. "I- I haven't done anything!"

"Search the bag, Leske."

"My pleasure."

"Wait! I do have some lyrium ore!" Oskias shouted. He pulled his bag out from under the table and rummaged through it. "I worked out a deal with one of the mining families. If it worked out, I was going to bring Beraht his cut."

"I'm sure if you had told him that, Beraht would have been content," Leske pointed out, watching the man's bag, "but you didn't. How long have you been cheating him?"

"Not long!" Oskias finally found whatever he had been searching for, and handed something small to Leske. "I mean, I'm not cheating him! This is my first time."

"We cut you some slack, and Beraht is after us next. Leske?" Natia glanced at her friend, who was examining something small.

"Oh please don't kill me," Oskias begged, despite their clear indifference.

Leske pocketed what he had been given and shrugged at Natia's curious look. He hopped up on a chair and yelled, "Could everyone who isn't about to die please turn around for a moment? This may be unpleasant. Thank you."

"Y-you can't do this! Help! Call the guardsmen! This is murder!" Oskias lurched to his feet, letting his chair fall to the ground.

Bolin, already hurrying out of sight, waved a hand over his head. "You two let me know if you need anything. I'll be in the back."

"It's just a bunch of rocks!" Oskias cried. He tripped on his fallen chair and scrambled backwards. "You're going to kill me for that?!"

"Sorry, salroka," Leske said, stepping off the chair and landing next to him.

"A job's a job," Natia finished.

Oskias fumbled while trying to unsheathe his sword and get to his feet at the same time. Natia swept her hammer to his left, feinting for the arm he was bracing himself on. Leske came in from the right, slashing his dagger across the other man's throat while he was distracted.

"We need to get this back to Beraht before he starts wondering if we're cheating him too," Leske leaned down to wipe his bloody dagger on the still gurgling man's pants. He pulled two nuggets from one of his pockets and held them so Natia could see. "Two little rocks, and now he's dead."

Natia watched the blood flowing from Oskias' neck slow to a trickle, waiting until she could no longer see his chest rise. "He should have known better."

"I guess," Leske shrugged. "We ready to go?"

"We've got the goods and he's dead, so we should be good," Natia answered.

"Are you going to clean that up?" Bolin demanded, poking his head out from the back room as they walked towards the exit.

"Add it to Beraht's tab," Leske offered.

The bartender scowled as he disappeared again.

"I think he's going to hold that against us," Leske whined. Turning to Natia, he jutted out his lower lip. "Where will we drink now?"

Natia shrugged. "He'll let me back in. I didn't sass him."

"I gave him an honest answer, salroka. We weren't told to clean up."

They exited the building and turned right towards Beraht's shop. It was only a few minutes walk away, on the other side of the plaza and past a public fountain.

"Watch yourself!" A drudge yelled from their left. She was crouched next to the fountain with a basket of wet clothes.

Natia gave her a nasty look and continued on her way, but Leske stopped long enough to kick some dust at the clothes the drudge was washing.

"You horrid deviant!" She shrieked, tossing a lump of gluey soap at him.

Leske cackled as he hopped out of the way and caught up with Natia. He adopted an unflattering falsetto. "You horrid deviant!"

"Fucking stuck up, bitch," Natia grumbled as she tapped on the shop door. Someone tapped back, a series of three sharp knocks and one soft, and Natia answered back with an open-handed slap and another two knocks.

The door opened just enough for her and Leske to squeeze through. Nodding in greeting, they passed by the two door guards and entered the main room.

"The king is old. His rule won't hold much longer," Beraht's voice said as they approached.

Jarvia's eyes flickered towards them as they entered the room, but otherwise she ignored their presence. "Prince Bhelen seems far more sympathetic to our interests than Trian."

"Trian isn't sympathetic to anyone," Beraht scoffed, "while Bhelen has some tastes of his own that I know I can provide-"

"We should finish this later," Jarvia tilted her head towards them, and Beraht nodded.

"It's about time you two showed up. What happened with Oskias?"

"He had a side deal going for lyrium," Natia answered, tossing the nuggets to Jarvia. She rolled them in her hand before passing them to Beraht.

"He should have known better," Beraht glowered at the nuggets. "You don't lie to me. You don't cheat me."

"Is this all he had?" Jarvia demanded, glowering at them as if she could sense any dishonesty on their part.

"Just those two," Leske confirmed. "He said the rest of it was topside."

"Smart of him to keep the bulk of it out of reach," Beraht commented, absently knocking the nuggets against each other. He looked up and asked, "And what about Oskias?"

Natia met Beraht's gaze evenly. "He's making a mess of Bolin's floor."

"It's a bar," Jarvia scoffed, "it's always dirty."

"I think he tries to keep the bloodstains down," Leske offered, only to immediately shut his mouth when Jarvia glanced at him.

"Excellent. I'll send someone out to… handle the clean up. Not you, though," Beraht said, glaring at them even though they hadn't moved. "I have another job for you."

"Do we get to make another Duster cry?" Natia drawled, only to step back in alarm when Beraht slammed his fist on the counter.

"Not if you know what's healthy for you!" He rumbled. His fingers flexed against the crushed remnants of the lyrium he had been holding. Calmly dusting his hand off, he continued, "This one I want you invisible."

Natia exchanged a quick, frantic look with Leske before Beraht continued.

"The Warrior caste is holding a Proving today, in honor of our new commander."

Natia kept her face blank, not daring to let slip her connection to the princess. Beraht hadn't asked her about Sereda yet, and Natia had no intention of drawing attention to herself.

"It's not often we get every name fighter in Orzammar lined up like this. There's a lot of coin to be made when people get the fever up," Beraht said conversationally, as if he hadn't been making threats to them all day, "Mainar is the favorite, veteran of four Darkspawn campaigns. Everd's a longshot, just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. There's a lot of money riding on him, and I expect to see that eight-to-one pay off. Understand?"

Leske cleared his throat. "How are we supposed to help?"

Jarvia held a canteen out to him. "Slip this into Mainar's water. It'll slow his reflexes just a hair, enough for any reasonable fighter to take advantage."

"When I say I have coin riding on this, I'm not talking about some pittance, like the value of your life," Beraht drawled as they were leaving. He waited until they turned back before continuing. "If I don't see Everd's name on the winner's sheet, you'd better make sure I never see you, or your sister, ever again."

Natia grimaced and nodded, ushering Leske out in front of her.

He waited until they were out the door before muttering, "But I don't even have a sister."

"Bugger off, Leske."

The path from the Market District was more crowded than usual, and only became more congested as they approached the turn off to their destination.

"You can't leave your wagons here!" A guard yelled at a distraught merchant.

The merchant threw his hands in the air and pointed back towards the Diamond District. "They threw us out to clear the way for Lady Aeducan!"

The guard shifted his helmet out of the way to roughly massage his temples. "Fine. You may stay here for now, but keep your wares together and out of the way. You're to leave as soon-"

"As soon as I may, I swear to the ancestors -"

"What are you doing here, Brand?" The guard interrupted, pushing the merchant aside. "Your kind aren't wanted here on the worst of days, much less one as joyous as this."

"We're to clean at the Proving Grounds, guardsman, sir," Leske cajoled, holding out the passes one of Beraht's men had given them on the way out of the shop.

"Everything looks to be in order…" the guard temporized. Squinting, he shook his head and gave them back. "Stick to the trenches. No one wants to see a Brand."

"Of course, guardsman, sir. No one will even notice us."

"Better not," the guard grumbled, already turning to his next problem.

Leske grabbed Natia's hand and hustled them forward. "Hurry! Before someone else stops us!"

The guards at the door gave them less trouble than the first one, and waved them through as soon as they saw the passes. One winked at Natia when she glanced back, and chuckled at her furrowed brow as the door closed.

"Do we know that guard?" She whispered to Leske.

"Maybe not, but they obviously know us," he said, leading them through the crowd as stealthily as possible, "and if they know us, that means they belong to Beraht. So we better get our asses in gear."

Natia let him hold her wrist and tug her along, giving herself permission to check out their surroundings. It wasn't likely she'd ever be allowed back inside these hallowed halls. The high ceiling could have felt airy and open, if the space wasn't broken up by towering pillars and heroically posed statues. Sound bounced around in erratic bursts; the echoes cut off from one another.

Their progress was suddenly halted, and she walked into Leske's back with no warning. "Leske?!"

"Stone's embrace! That's a Gray Warden!" He quietly exclaimed, pointing at a man who was twice as tall as the average dwarf. The crowd left a respectful ring around him. Leske elbowed her side. "I dare you to talk to him. 'Welcome to Orzammar, sir. May I drink your bath water?"

"We have work to do, Leske! Beraht-"

"Aww, is widdle Natia so scared of the big, bad human?"

She glared at him. "We don't have time for this! We need to drug Mainar and get out!"

"Poor, scared Natia," Leske continued, tugging her towards the Gray Warden, "I'm sure he won't bite."

"I will end you," Natia spat, allowing herself to be guided, and then abandoned, in front of the human.

He smiled down at her. "Stone-met and blessings on your house."

Natia paused, wide eyed, and tried to come up with a response.

She must have been quiet too long, or her expression revealed her confusion, because he sighed and spoke again. "That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you're looking at me strangely?"

"In my part of Orzammar," Natia began, clearing her suddenly dry throat, "we just go with 'Hello.'"

"We do the same in my part of Fereldan," he responded, smiling again. "My name is Duncan. Pleased to meet you."

Leske hissed in the background. Natia glanced at him — noting the frowning guard he was subtly pointing out — and resumed the conversation. "Sorry, I only came over because my friend dared me to-"

"Then you have certainly proven your courage," Duncan chuckled, "though I hope I'm not quite so fearsome as all that."

Leske hissed again, and this time Natia turned to see a flash of distinctive armor. The princess was here. Smiling the brightest, fakest smile, she could manage, Natia added, "I have to get to work, sorry to waste your time like this."

"No apologies needed, my friend-" Duncan began, but Natia had already hurried back into the crowd with Leske close on her heels.

"Are you happy?" She grumbled. The tunnel leading down to the fighters' wing was clearly marked, thankfully. "We're kind of in a hurry here."

"I wasn't expecting you to have a sodding conversation with him!" He exclaimed, then quieted when some of the warriors started glaring at them. Quieter, he added, "I thought he'd tell you to bugger off, and we'd be on our way."

"Shows what you know," Natia muttered.

Leske pointed to the right. "That's his door!"

She slapped his arm out of the way. "I can read, thank you."

Whatever comeback Leske had planned was cut off by the sight of the drunken man drooling on the stone floor.

"Sod it! He's stone drunk!" Leske yelled as Natia quickly shut and locked the door. He began pacing, kicking over anything that got in his way. "He could draw a dead man for his bout and still lose. Beraht is going to kill us."

Natia tugged on one of her braids irritably. "There has to be something we can do! He said he's going to hurt Rica!"

"Wait! I have an idea!" Leske cried on his third time pacing the room. He stopped and smirked at her. "So you've been doing a lot of bragging lately, right?

"Not bragging if it's true," Natia protested, uncertain of where he was going with this.

Leske pointed at the pile of equipment lying on the floor by the wall closest to the entrance. There was an empty armor rack right next to it. "Everd's armor is over there and you're about the same size…"

Natia paused for only the briefest of moments. "Go drug Mainar while I get this sodding armor on."

"I'm on it," Leske promised, already halfway across the room.

Natia had never worn armor, and the only experience she had with it was when she'd watched, and eventually assisted, Sereda and Gorim with theirs. Everd's armor was much heavier, and reeked of booze and musk.

She had the cuirass and accompanying chest armor on, and was finishing off her legs when Leske reappeared.

"By the ancestors! Are you not ready yet?"

"Stop bitching and help me!" She yelled, pointing towards the vambraces. He tossed all the remaining pieces at herz and they scrambled to find a place to attach everything.

"Bout three is next. Officer Mainar versus the warrior Everd! Fighters, report to the ring."

"No more time!" He exclaimed. Wiggling on of the spaulders, ensuring it was on correctly, Leske stepped back and shoved her towards the door. "Make sure you've got everything and tell the guard you're ready to go."

Natia took a single step before he jammed the barbute style helm on her head. She gagged at the smell and had to wiggle the helm from side to side to center it enough for her to see out the tiny slits. "How do they fight in these?!"

"Don't know, don't care," Leske declared, shoving her towards the door again. "No matter what, don't forget to keep your helmet down!"

Natia took a deep, calming breath — praying that she became accustomed to the stench quickly — and headed towards the arena door. There was a crowd of warriors loitering there, who were obviously sizing her up. Grateful that she was tall for a woman, and that Everd was short for a man, Natia cooly passed them by. All she needed to do was win this one match, and then she could leave.

"May fortune favor your fight, Everd," The guard at the door said quietly. She could feel the rumble of thousands of voices clamoring against each other just outside that door. "Are you ready?

Natia gave an exaggerated nod, and the door was opened for her. She had to take a moment to blink her eyes, accustoming herself to the surprisingly bright light, and stepped out into the roaring crowd's view.

A voice from high above echoed through the arena. "This is a glory proving. Fought under the watchful eyes of our ancestors for the honor of lady Aeducan, our new commander."

Natia's throat was dry and tight, her eyes watering from the rancid stench of the helm and the brightness of the light, and the weapons and armor weighed heavy on her shoulders and back.

The sudden hysterical thought came to her, ever so briefly, that she couldn't do this. That she would make a fool of herself in this borrowed armor, would fall flat on her face in the sand, would flail the sword like a child and trip on her own shield. And, worst of all, Sereda would watch her do it.

"You honor me with this fight," a male voice broke through the fog of self doubt and desperation she was wallowing in.

Natia peered out the slit of her helm to see the man she assumed was Mainar bowing to her. She bowed a moment behind.

He paused for a long moment, and then continued, "May the Stone show the boldest heart through the strongest arm."

There was another pause, and Natia realized she was expected to answer. Unsure of what Everd's voice sounded like, she cleared her throat and spoke in only a slightly lower tone than normal. "Uh, right back at you."

This time she knew he was confused, but was thankfully saved from answering any questions by the Proving Master.

"First warrior to fall is vanquished… Fight!"

Mainar rushed forward and led with a strong swing of his sword. Natia partially blocked the strike with her shield, and deflected most of the force to her left. Angling herself to the right, she swung her sword down across her body. Her bid to get past his shield failed, and he not only blocked the strike but shoved her back as well.

Scrambling for purchase in the soft sand, Natia bent her knees and thrust herself up into his shield. Her hopes of pushing him away, like she did Sereda, were quickly crushed, as he let the shield slip to the side only to bring his sword in. She barely twisted behind her shield in time to avoid the hit.

It seemed impossible to breathe in the smothering confines of the armor, and Natia fought to keep herself from hyperventilating. Her every movement was painfully slow and overly exhausting. Anyone who fought like this was insane, she thought, as she hid behind her shield again.

The roaring in her ears could have been from the crowd, or from the rush of blood surging through her body in an adrenaline fueled frenzy. She bashed forward, locking herself to her opponent shield to shield. Allowing herself to be driven down, Natia gave one last thrust up to fully meet his downward force and then slid away.

He stuttered forward — losing his balance and almost falling when there was suddenly no resistance — and Natia took the chance to tangle a leg between his in an attempt to trip him. It worked, and even before he had finished falling to the ground, Natia had straddled his back and was pressing her sword above his gorget and into his jaw.

"Yield," she demanded, applying more pressure when it took him a moment to answer.

He bucked up onto his hands and knees, tucked his chin to escape her sword, and used his helmet protected forehead to safely trap her sword in the sand.

"Sod it all!" She exclaimed — forgetting for a moment that she was impersonating someone — and released her sword. Leaning back, she stretched her arms up as far as she could and, with both arms, slammed her shield down into his head.

He collapsed with a grunt, and Natia unsheathed her dagger and again pressed the edge in above his gorget. "Yield, damn you!"

"I yield," he eventually grunted.

Relieved, she clambered to her feet and even offered him a hand up. Instead of accepting her aid, he handed her the sword and then got up on his own.

The crowd murmured in a mixture of surprise and dismay. It took a moment for the Proving Master to realize they were done.

"The winner is… Everd?" The master was interrupted by a series of boos and cheers. When the tumult had mostly died down he continued, "A truly… memorable fight. The young cadet vanquishes the wily veteran."

"Now is when you raise your sword and wave to the crowd," Mainar advised.

Natia hastened to comply, and was shocked at how much louder the cheers were than the boos. She glanced at her opponent, smiling under her helm, and was surprised to find him watching her.

"We'll have to spar again some time," he said eventually.

Relieved, Natia nodded before trudging towards the door. She had to whip around again when he hollered at her.

"Everd!" When she had turned completely around, Mainar yelled, "Forget the barbute next time, and wear an open helm. The crowd likes to see their champion's face."

She nodded again and tromped her way through the sand and into the soothingly dim light of the tunnel.

Her return to the room was slowed by everyone wanting to talk to her, and Natia had to nod and shake her head, grunt, and attempt to shrug in plate armor to communicate as well as she could without actually speaking. Mainar's reaction had her convinced that her impersonation was pretty poor.

Finally making it through the door, she slumped against it until Leske pulled the helm off her head.

"Oh blessed Stone," she murmured, "I can breathe."

"Phew," Leske exclaimed, holding the helmet away from his face. "You stink!"

"Most of that isn't me," she protested. Too tired to argue further, she sank to the floor and leaned her head back. "I'm never wearing armor again. They're all insane."

"You don't want to try and win the whole Proving?" Leske teased, poised to help set her free.

She held out a limp wrist. "Beraht said Everd needed to win this specific fight. Now that that's done, we're going to leave Everd to his smelly armor and drunken stupor."

"Everd!" A familiar voice yelled from the other side of the door.

"Fuck!" Leske whispered as he jammed the helm back on her head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-"

Natia shushed him and opened the door. Gorim stood on the other side, as grumpy as ever. She stepped out and closed the door behind her. It wouldn't do for Leske or the actual Everd to reveal themselves.

"Greetings, Everd," he said in the polite tone she only heard him use around Sereda. "My lady would like to challenge you to a bout."

"Me?" She asked, almost forgetting to lower her voice.

Gorim gave her a funny look, then nodded. "Yes, she would like to challenge you."

"Perhaps another time, the fight with Mainar-"

"Today. Right now, actually," he interrupted firmly.

Perhaps the real Everd could have said no, but Natia couldn't risk making a fuss and revealing herself. And that's how she found herself standing across the area from the Aeducan princess, once more facing her as a stranger.

From this distance the crowd was a jittering mass of excitement; a blanket of shimmering colors bouncing in their seats. They were so loud that Natia could barely hear the Proving Master.

"This is a glory proving. Fought under the watchful eyes of our ancestors for the honor of lady Aeducan, our new commander. Today she fights in her own honor, against cadet Everd."

She and Leske had roughly scoured the inside of the armor in an attempt to even mildly improve the stench. They'd also hunted through Everd's scattered armor to find her options that weren't plate mail. The result looked similar to his full armor, but it weighed less and didn't reek.

"Ready?"

Natia took a deep breath, despising the barbute helm she was forced to wear, and slowly exhaled.

"Fight!"

This time there was no rush forward. They stood in place, each waiting for the other to go, neither of them willing to break the impasse.

"My lady!" Gorim yelled from the sidelines, "you better use some of those tricks you've been practicing!"

Sereda grinned at him, and her smile was still intact when she faced Natia again. It faded fast, however, when she realized Natia was charging her.

Sword held tight to the side of her shield, Natia waited until just before impact to flick it towards Sereda's head. The princess sidestepped the shield and deflected the blade with her sword, before thrusting in the gap between Natia's wide flung sword arm and her too close shield.

Natia muffled a breathless scream when the blow smashed into her breastplate. She maneuvered her shield between them again, and then dropped it as Sereda tried to press forward. Grabbing her dagger, Natia attempted to stab Sereda when the princess tripped on the fallen shield, only to be thwarted by her opponent shifting to take the hit on her upper arm.

Sereda swore and swept her shield to the side — knocking Natia back — and Natia brought her arm in enough to smack the flat of her sword into the side of Sereda's helmet. They both took a single step away, just to swing their swords back in a rapid flurry of strikes.

Sereda blocked Natia's sword with her shield, and in return Natia blocked her opponent's sword with her dagger. Pressing her arms out wide — forcing their weapons to either side — Natia slammed her head into Sereda's face.

Sereda faltered for a moment, and Natia attempted to hook one of her legs and shove the princess to the ground. Planting her feet, Sereda dragged her shield arm between them again and forced Natia to give her space.

By this point Natia was gasping for air. Her breastplate was dented from the blow at the beginning of the fight, and there was a sharp pain with every jagged breath. The helmet smothered her, the weight of the armor dragged on every part of her body, and her arms ached from wielding such different weapons from her normal dagger and hammer.

Sereda didn't seem to be having these problems, but that was expected since this was her normal gear. Instead she was grinning while she panted, seemingly unfazed. "Feeling alright, Everd?"

Even if she wasn't impersonating a warrior, and could speak her mind, Natia was pretty certain she still couldn't have thought up a witty response. Her sword answered for her, jutting forward as she resumed her assault.

The princess twirled her sword around Natia's and it went flying from her grasp. Continuing her charge, Natia raised her left shoulder up to take the hit from her opponent's sword, and then brought her dagger up towards Sereda's throat.

Her shield too far out to block, Sereda instead pulled it in close to trap Natia against her chest. Natia's dagger arm was caught between their breastplates, with the dagger pressed into Sereda's gorget.

Sereda dropped the shield down below Natia's waist, and then pushed her over the top of it to land on her back. Natia didn't get a chance to draw in a breath before she felt a sword slide against her gorget and catch under the edge of her helmet.

"Yield," Sereda demanded, every inch the golden princess posed above her vanquished foe.

Natia couldn't catch her breath, and gave a shaky nod instead.

"You need to say it," Sereda commanded. "Say it so all can hear!"

"Hey!" A male voice drunkenly yelled. Natia couldn't see what was going on, but it sounded like there was a struggle happening near the tunnel leading to the warrior's entrance. "That's my armor!"

"Who are you?" The Proving Master's voice resonated with indignation. "How dare you disrupt this sacred-"

"That's Everd…" Sereda answered from above her. "But if that's him, then who did I just fight?"

"Remove your helmet, warrior, and let all who watched you see your face," the Proving Master commanded.

Natia shook her head, but couldn't find the energy to stand. The light against her eyelids was blocked, and she opened her eyes to see Sereda looming above her.

The sword at her neck was removed, only to be replaced by fingers. She took a deep breath as it was removed, and reopened her eyes to find Sereda's stricken face.

"Brosca?"

Natia carefully nodded her aching head before speaking. "We not using given names anymore?"

"Of course it's you," Sereda laughed, kneeling next to Natia to wipe the sweat from her brow. "That makes much more sense than Everd."

"Well, you've finally beat me," Natia said, clinging to this small moment of comfort. In the background she could hear the Proving Master arguing with someone, as the agitated crowd murmured. "Cheated a bit though."

"Cheated?!"

"Yeah," Natia laughed, "I've never fought in armor before today."

"That sounds like an excuse to me," Sereda chuckled.

"My lady Aeducan?"

They looked over in unison to see Gorim standing in front of a group of grim faced guards. He had an apologetic expression on his face, and Natia knew what was coming.

"You're under arrest, Brand!" One of the guards yelled.

Sereda got to her feet and stood in front of her friend. "For what?"

"For impersonating a warrior and defiling this Proving, as well as shaming lord Everd."

"He deserves to be shamed," Natia muttered, slowly getting to her feet.

"You're not helping," Sereda hissed before returning to the advancing guards. "I'll deal with her."

"We can't let you do that, my lady Aeducan," a different guard said regretfully. "There are laws in place to protect our traditions, and this Brand is going to be punished according to them."

"I won't let you take her!"

"My lady-" Gorim tried again, only to be interrupted.

"What foolishness is this, sister?" A nobleman in full court regalia demanded. The guards parted around him, respectfully bowing as he passed.

"Trian-" Sereda began, only to be cut off.

Striding forward, he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from Natia. "Leave this casteless scourge to the guards."

Sereda attempted to free herself from his grasp, just to have Bhelen grab her other arm. Gorim looked away from her pleading eyes. "We should go."

"No!" She yelled, throwing her body backwards in an attempt to break free. "Natia!"

The guards quickly stepped between Natia and the nobles, ignoring the princess' cries. Natia held her arms out and didn't resist when they roughly threw her to the ground. The crowd jeered as the guards stripped the armor from her body. One guard attempted to take her shirt as well, but another guard smacked the back of his head and shoved him away.

"Get up, scum!"

Natia was dragged up by her arms, and she grimaced in pain as the bruised muscles in her chest were pulled.

"Wait!"

Natia opened her eyes to see the human — the Gray Warden — standing in front of her.

"I am conscripting this woman in the name of the Gray Wardens!"

An old man, whose voice declared him to be the Proving Master, scoffed. "This woman has trampled on generations of tradition! Her presence here has defiled the Proving Grounds and the honor of the Warrior caste."

"She will be put to use fighting the Darkspawn. We need warriors like her-"

"She is no warrior!" The Proving Master bellowed, stepping up on his toes to bring himself closer to the human's face. "And she will not be going with you! She will be punished according to our laws, and not given the honor of serving the Gray Wardens."

"There is no need-" the Gray Warden protested, following them step for step as the guards led her away. He stopped only when they closed the door in his face.

Natia was tossed into a small room filled with cleaning supplies and left alone for a time. The numbness that had overtaken her at first was slowly fading. Rica. Beraht was going to hurt Rica.

Pacing the meager space, she was trying to decide what to do when the door opened a crack and a familiar looking guard appeared. Holding a finger to his lips, he gestured for her to follow him.

Unsure why one of Beraht's guards would be helping her, Natia followed him anyway. Wherever he was leading her couldn't be too much worse.

They quietly passed by other guards, all facing away from them, and stopped at a dead end. The guard dug his fingers into a shallow crack in the wall, and pulled open a door.

He had her go first, and Natia hesitantly stepped into the surprisingly clean tunnel.

"Where are we going?" Leske's panicked voice demanded.

Natia's eyesight went black for a moment when she whipped her aching head around too quickly. Just as it cleared up, the guard slammed her into the wall and pressed a sweet smelling rag to her face.

"Beraht sends his regrets that he couldn't be here, but he promises to see you soon," the guard crooned as she slowly succumbed to the sleeping potion. "He always keeps his word, and he owes you and your sister a nice, private chat."