My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  At that the Queen honed in hard on him. "Amell? As in...?"

  "Yes, the Hero of the Blight. She's my mother, though she doesn't like a lot of people knowing that."

  Nerazda snickered at the thought. "Vedrick was the same. Always throwing around his aliases so none would know he was of house Harrowmant. What did he call himself on the surface?"

  "Snowy," Gavin said and the woman tipped her head in confusion. "It's a thing we have on the surface...when water freezes but rains."

  "You mean ice?"

  "Not exactly, more white and fluffy. And..." Maker did he feel stupid trying to explain snow to dwarves while standing beside her dead son's body.

  Nerazda watched him, Gavin limply banging his hands together while he stared down at the eyes he poorly sewed shut. His hands shook the whole time from the cold of the runes and...it felt wrong, even if there was no other option. To puncture his friend's skin over and over with a needle and thread.

  A small, metal-encrusted hand gripped onto Gavin's elbow. He glanced down to find the old woman staring at him. "You cared for my son?"

  "He was...a friend, a close friend, though he never told me about his past."

  "That is unsurprising given how he left," she tipped her head to her boy and frowned. Despite being a dwarf, her face was more angular than round, even the nose prodding out rather far. Was that age or grief sinking in her cheeks so deep?

  "Tell me something, Gavin of House Amell," he winced at someone calling him Amell. His mother would scold him to next Sunday for it, even if it felt right. "How did my son die?"

  "Did you know anything of his life on the surface?" Gavin asked, turning to her.

  "No," she admitted, "nothing."

  He could tell her anything he wanted. Say that Snowy died heroically trying to save an entire village. Or that they were fighting off darkspawn. Surely the dwarves would believe a story about darkspawn. Anything but the truth that the caravan of the Princess got him killed.

  Gavin sucked in a breath, "He was a squire, operating under the King's banner. The King of Ferelden not..."

  "Yes, we have been without a King for some years. I assumed not ours," Nerazda said with a dry wit. "Please, continue with your tale."

  The darkspawn, they'd believe that. They're everywhere and everyone hates them. A common enemy. It could bind the dwarves and humans together, perhaps open up negotiations. No one could argue with him for the lie.

  "He was stabbed in the throat by an assassin," Gavin said, turning away from the poor woman. "His back was turned to her, he had no idea it was coming... I don't know if that helps at all."

  The Queen blinked a moment and closed her eyes, "An assassin? Do you have any intention to catch this murderer?"

  "Every," Gavin closed his fist, the knuckles popping white as he thought of the justice burning in his heart. All the swords shifted closer at his threatening move, but Nerazda chuckled a moment.

  It was so out of place, he blinked rapidly and released his clench. "Thank you, young man, for the truth. It is very rare to receive when you have no good reason to give it."

  "I..." he look around, hoping for some semblance of sense to arrive, "I just did what I thought was right."

  "You are very rare, and very much your mother's son," the woman said, confusing Gavin. What would she know of his mom beyond the name and reputation?

  "Heely," the Queen raised her hand higher, "open the gates. I believe it is time I take commune with the...?"

  "Princess," Gavin answered, "Princess of Ferelden."

  "Her and her advisors."

  "Your Majesty," Heely gasped in surprise, "Is this wise? They're surfacers..."

  "Who returned our lost prince to us. And I suspect may have more to tell. Come," she lifted her head and began to walk out of the room. Gavin stood confused beside Snowy. Should he leave or would taking a step cause all the guards to attack him as one?

  A few dispersed with the Queen automatically but most remained with their swords trained upon Gavin. At the exit, Nerazda turned back to him. "Men, we can trust our friend here. Stand down." In one slick move, all the swords returned to their scabbards, the air sliced into a thousand pieces. "Would you," she leaned closer, her eyes only upon Gavin as if no one else was there, "sit with Vedrick until we are ready for the ceremony?"

  He knew it wasn't a queen ordering him, but a mother asking. Nodding slowly, Gavin bit into his lip and turned to Snowy's bloated visage. Behind him he heard the tramp of booted feet as the Queen and all her guards vanished leaving him alone with his dead friend. Slowly, Gavin slipped the sheet back over Snowy's face, then he dropped to his knees and prayed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Worry

  "Cease pacing."

  It grumbled out of Rosie's mouth straight at her assassin, but the woman barely acknowledged it. She was pointing around the walls, muttering things under her breath in her native tongue while her dominant hand kept itching back towards her weapons.

  They stood there before the shut gate for what was quickly feeling like an eternity, Rosie stock still while Myra was quickly coming to Anjali's side. "He's been in there for a long time," she said, her hands wringing together while she wished she had a staff.

  She couldn't do a lot with it, but even just the appearance of one could startle some people who were freaked out by mages. No doubt a few dwarves would be put off if she started slinging fireballs around. "I should get their attention," Myra lifted her palm, the veil splitting, when Rosie grabbed onto her.

  "No," she insisted. Everyone was getting twitchy, well aware of what it looked like when one of their own walked through the big scary gate that slammed shut and didn't come back. But not their Princess. She stood frozen the whole time, her hands locked in place as if she was waiting for someone to lay a blanket of rose petals at her feet before she could start walking.

  Myra sneered at her sister and tried to shake her hand off, "What if they're mad about the dead dwarf? What if they're hurting him right now? We need to do something."

  Her sister sighed and shook her head slowly, "We must trust in diplomacy."

  "Sod that," she managed to yank her fingers free, practically slapping the Chamberlain growling behind her. "I can get in, I think. Stone walls, not too high. Down might be an issue if I'm spotted but..."

  "Blighted hell, Myra, you are not climbing their walls. We cannot be seen infiltrating the dwarven compound," their princess was practically shrieking in exhaustion.

  "And if he's in trouble? I'm not gonna sit around with my thumbs up my ass while Gavin's hurt!"

  It wasn't Rosie who responded but Anjali that sighed, "More than likely, given how much time has passed, if they wished him dead he would be."

  Myra spun her head fast at the twitchy assassin and snarled, "I can see why so many people want to punch you."

  Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, probably whispered a few prayers to her version of Andraste before glaring. "My concern is the assassin."

  "Tie yourself up, problem solved," Myra hissed.

  "Helpful as always," Anjali groaned.

  Rosie turned towards the tall walls and patrol's heads barely bobbing along the top. "If we can't get in, neither can she."

  "Eh..." Myra bobbed back and forth on her feet.

  "What?" her sister circled around her, suddenly very interested in Myra's outbursts.

  "Just, I wasn't kidding. Stone walls, easy as spit to climb. Don't even need a rope. Well I wouldn't. Most others would probably jam a piton in there or something. Scurry up. Problem is the top, but kill a guard, steal the uniform, slip in..." Myra could see how rather flimsy their defenses were. Patrols moved, but not enough. There were gaps if you were clever and quick. Though, it was hard to say if this other mysterious assassin was.

  Anjali turned to follow Myra's line of sight, "Tenna may already be inside, could be causing trouble right at this very moment."

  It made some sense, though given how cautious this Tenna seemed to be Myra
doubted it. She was waiting for them to get inside. She wanted the confusion of humans mixed in around dwarves. Easier way to stir up the nest. But Myra wanted in and if she had to side with the assassin for it, she would.

  Rosie, however, was having none of that, "If I, or any of you in my care, even attempt to lean against those walls, all of Ferelden will be tossed into..."

  Her doom and gloom faded away as the gate opened smoother than before. This time it wasn't one guard standing in the gap but a multitude fanned out in a V form. At the lead stood a lady dwarf in shiny golden armor. Her cheeks and forehead sagged like parchment you dropped into water, then let dry in your pocket. A helm as flat as a river rock perched upon her head, keeping the woman fully in shadow. As she stepped forward, so did every single guard who looked very very armed.

  Myra staggered up on her toes, foolishly trying to peer behind the line of short dwarves to find the impossibly tall Gavin. If he was there, he'd be standing out like a sore thumb. She got a quick view of the inside workings before nothing, the gate slammed closed behind what had to be the Queen of the dwarves and her retinue.

  By the time the woman got close to Rosie, every single squire and Knight shifted tight on their heels, hands gripping onto grips with gripitude. Tension whipped through the ranks so thick, even Myra wanted to reach for a blade or two.

  "I am Queen Nerazda," she spoke, her voice booming through the pitted ground stripped of all green save a few pitiful leaves on dying trees.

  "Your Majesty," Rosie grabbed onto the sides of her dress and curtsied deep. As she reached the near bottom of her dip, Rosie's eyes shot over to glare upon each side. Slowly, the advisors, knights, squires and Karelle all took a slow bow to the dwarven Queen. Anjali remained rigid, her arms crossed and head whipping through the guards as if she expected to find an assassin hidden amongst them. Myra didn't give two shits, and felt like making that obvious.

  "For all you have done for us, I am granting you an audience," Nerazda said, barely blinking at Myra's obstinance.

  "Thank you, your Majesty," Rosie moved to take a step forward as if to pull the woman into a polite conference, but every dwarf shifted and pointed sharp weapons at the Princess. Not taking kindly to such an idle threat, Daryan and her mass of squires unsheathed their swords across the void.

  "We come not to fight," the only cool head said, before glaring back at Daryan's move. The knight acknowledged it, but didn't call her people off. "But to give you a warning, you and your family are in danger."

  Nerazda eyed up Rosie slowly, crystal blue beams of light all but dicing up her sister as if she could read truth on her face. Only the wind whipped past them, carrying specks of black and brown dirt on it. Every voice faded to nothing, every breath held tight in the chest. No one wanted to break this sudden stalemate.

  Except for Myra.

  Launching forward to stand next to her sister, Myra's movements were so surprising the dwarven guards forgot to twist their blades to her. She got close to the Queen's face and struck a finger out. "Where is he?"

  "Who?"

  "Who?" Myra gasped, "The boy that went inside your gates and hasn't come out. That'd be who. Cause you better not have done anything to him."

  The dwarven Queen tipped her head a moment in thought, "You are concerned for him?"

  "Damn right I am. He's ours," Myra thudded a hand into her chest, while Rosie grabbed onto her shoulders as if she was about to throw her sister back.

  "Please," the diplomat in the family cajoled and begged, "forgive her. She's...rather mercurial at times. You rarely know what to expect when it comes to Myra."

  The royal fingers kept trying to tug her away, but Myra wasn't budging. "No, I want to know now. Before things get bad. So help me if you killed him..."

  "The young man is safe," Nerazda chuckled a bit as if she found the whole thing humorous.

  "Oh yeah? Prove it."

  "Myra! Maker's sake," Rosie was already waving Karelle over, trying to find anyone that could corral her sister into a collar. "Your Majesty, you do not need to..."

  "All right," Nerazda tipped her head to the side and shrugged.

  "What do you mean? Just...what?" Myra gasped. She expected a drag down fight, perhaps having to scale the walls quickly and fight to find Gavin holed up somewhere near death or chained to a wall.

  "Someone," the Queen turned to her entourage, "Ah, Heely. Take this woman to her young man," she instructed, pointing a finger at Myra.

  Her tone struck hard and Myra couldn't stop the stupid blush rising on her cheeks. "He's not mine, just..."

  The older dwarf blinked a moment before sighing, "My mistake. But if you wish to learn the truth," she waved towards what had to be Heely who looked as cookie cutter as the rest of the guards.

  Myra turned to her sister whose eyes were wide, but she had no idea what to say. It could be another death trap, the dwarves skinning humans for whatever dark purpose they wanted. Whipping her head over to the Queen, Myra nodded hard, "Yes. Take me to him." She felt Rosie clenching at her commanding tone and Myra tacked on, "Please."

  While Heely guided her through the opening gate, she heard Rosie begin her spiel about an assassin coming to take out the dwarven royal family. Myra didn't care, she'd heard enough to piece the bits together. It'd depend on Rosie's skill if she could convince the Queen the truth of it. All in all, it seemed rather far fetched, if you ignored her dead son and the other assassin they had in tow.

  Whether it worked or not, that was Rosie's problem. Myra was too focused on finding Gavin and making certain he didn't get himself into trouble. Heely was as chatty as one expected from a dwarven guide -- grunting when Myra lagged behind, stomping if she was pressing too close, and farting to really seal in how annoyed he was. Maybe she should have been impressed with the runes lighting up as they dipped into the deep roads, or been slightly panicking that she was in the deep roads, but her head was too busy pivoting back and forth to try and pierce the darkness.

  More dwarves came to gawk at the lanky human stomping through their home, heads prodding out of hidey holes and the like. By the time her guide stopped, Myra was fully turned around and walking backwards so she could keep a line on all the dwarves scurrying around. She didn't realize Heely stopped until she ran into him.

  Grunts erupted, practically on top of each other, and the dwarf spat out, "He's in here."

  Shoving open the door, Myra's breath caught as her eyes tried to adjust for the even more limited light. A single torch lit upon the back of Gavin's shirt and head. He was upon his knees, the torch giving the illusion he was moving. What if he wasn't? What if they killed him same as Snowy? While he was in prayer?

  What kind of bastard would you have to be to do that?

  Myra scampered across the floor quickly, hoping to solve the problem, when she got close. Most of her was certain he was fine, just distracted. Really distracted. To the point he wouldn't hear a clumsy human hopping along the sidewalk. But a small part in her heart was shrieking in a panic. Her hand cut across the dark void, trembling like a ship in a storm.

  What if he was cold? What if his body already went rigid from death's grip? What if she got him killed?

  Warmth radiated up her grip, and her hand shifted as Gavin took in a breath.

  Thank you sweet Maker!

  She was acting like an idiot and nothing more.

  Gavin seemed to be started out of a trance as he tipped his head up from her touch and then glanced over to find her. "My..." he stuttered, attempting to rise to his feet. "Myra?" It wasn't going so well, so she fished an arm under his to help.

  Blessed Andraste, the man was like trying to heft up a druffalo. Her arms squealed at the weight but as Gavin got his own legs under him, he took it all back. "What are you...?"

  "That Queenie of theirs is outside with Rosie right now. And I...um," Shit. There was no easy way to spin this.

  Gavin blinked a moment, and an unnaturally sly smile lifted his lips. "You were concerned?"


  "Walk into some dwarven compound no one's breached since they broke out of the ground without anyone following to watch your back? Yeah, I was 'concerned.' Hard not to be, really. I mean..." her heart caught in her throat from the look he was giving her and she whipped her head away. This was over, remember. Done. Dead. Then why did her stupid cheeks burn like dad trying to roast rabbit every time he glanced at her?

  Untacking her tongue, she muttered, "Lambert was real concerned, all pacing back and forth. Uh, threatening to climb the walls to find you. That sort of stuff." Her eyes honed in on her languid fingers pawing through the air. It kept her from stupidly staring dumbstruck at him.

  "That sounds exactly like...Lambert," Gavin whispered. He was kind enough to not call Myra on her shit, for which she was eternally grateful.

  Getting her bearings in place, she turned to him and finally asked the real important question, "What are you doing here?"

  "Sitting with..." he began before biting on his lip and pointing towards the altar she just realized was holding up a dead body.

  Maker's breath, Myra. Just because there's a cute boy in the room doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to see a corpse! She could hear all of her mother's tongue whacking for that one in the back of her head. It only happened once, and they didn't lose the suspect because of it. Just had to chase him down on horseback...outside of Denerim, for a couple days. Not a big deal in the end.

  Turning away from Gavin as much to try and pin her stupid fluttering heart down as anything, Myra focused on Snowy. If that even was his name. "Is he really...?" she began.

  "Yes. I don't know how I missed it," Gavin whispered.

  "You're not the only one. By the void, a prince. Right there, the whole time. And I didn't get a thing, not even a whiff that he was... He seemed so, I want to say common but that's not right." She knew dockworkers who walked about like sophisticated gentlemen and Arls that ate their own nose gold and thought farting to be the height of hilarity. Common was one of those words people used to define a category that they got wrong.

  Myra glanced over from her mad musings to see the boy that'd been sleeping in her tent -- not like that -- for the past week. He was better from that first night, but not by much. "How are you doing?" she asked.