Chapter Text
A traveler asked the Ashkaari: "What was your vision of our purpose?"
The Great Ashkaari replied: "I will tell you a story."
- The Soul Canto
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“So,” Alistair said. “You, uh. You know what you’re doing, right?”
“I do, in fact,” Yara said. “Right now I’m packing my satchel. Hand me that dagger, will you?”
“Ha ha,” he said flatly. “Very funny. Seriously though, are you sure about this?”
“What’s to be not sure about?” she said. With some effort, she pulled the jars of medicinal salve out of the depths of her bag and squished her clothes down to the bottom instead.
Alistair shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just… won’t you be, you know, bored?”
Yara raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I’d be bored?”
“Because I won’t be there,” he said. He pulled a mock-sad face. “You’re going to miss my amazing impressions, you know. I just perfected my sober Oghren impression and everything.”
Yara smiled. “I will miss your impressions, it’s true. But I’ll manage. Sten will keep me company.”
Alistair grimaced. “That’s… kind of my point, actually. It’s Sten. He’s not exactly the most entertaining company you could keep.”
She huffed in amusement. “If I was looking to be entertained, I’d just stay here with Anora’s new court jesters over there.” She jerked her chin at Denerim’s central marketplace – or rather, the spot where the central marketplace used to be before the darkspawn horde had arrived. The darkspawn were gone now, but so was the collection of colourful merchants’ stands that had once stood there. Instead, the remains of a barricade had been piled into an impromptu stage, and on the stage stood Zevran and Oghren, who were entertaining a large and laughing crowd with some sort of increasingly lewd back-and-forth of riffing and insults.
“So what are you looking for, exactly?” Alistair said.
His tone was serious now. Yara finally paused in her packing to meet his eye. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully.
He raised his eyebrows. “And you think that sailing across the entire Amaranthine Ocean with Sten will help you figure it out?”
She gave him a small awkward smile. Alistair’s tone was still serious, as though he was really trying to understand where she was coming from. And although she appreciated his concern, she… well, she didn’t have an answer for him.
“I… don’t know,” she said again. “Honestly, I’m still surprised he said I could go with him.”
“I’m still surprised you even asked,” Alistair said.
“So am I,” Yara said wryly.
“So why did you?” he pressed.
She let out a little laugh. “I don’t know,” she said. In truth, she still wasn’t sure what exactly had compelled her to invite herself on Sten’s journey home. One second he was telling her what the infrequent celebrations were like among his people back home. The next second, Yara was asking to go with him, and he was actually agreeing.
And for reasons that Yara genuinely wasn’t sure of, the idea of sailing off to a completely foreign land with Sten was the most appealing idea she’d had since all of this Grey Warden business had begun.
Alistair scoffed. “And we’re back to the start. Maybe it is good that you’re going with him. You both talk in circles so often it makes me dizzy.”
She chuckled. “Thanks. I think.” She rose to her feet and hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “Where are you going next, then? Are you going to try and find the other Wardens?”
“Actually,” he said brightly, “I thought that me and Oghren and Zevran could travel the country as a triple act. It’s already a set-up for a joke. Zevran had a really good one, actually, did you hear it? A human, an elf and a dwarf are going for a stroll when they stop by the side of a river to relieve themselves–”
Yara gave him a chiding look. “Alistair.”
He tutted. “All right, all right, you got me. Leliana’s going to teach me to become a bard. Can I practice my singing with you? I just need to warm up first.” He cleared his throat loudly, then placed one hand on his chest and began to sing. “Oh, there once was a maiden I wanted to kiss, but she worked in a tavern that smelled just like–”
Yara laughed and pinched his arm. “Alistair!”
He laughed as well, then sighed. “All right, all right, yes, I’m going to join up with the other Wardens. They’re still on their way here from Orlais, so we’ll run into each other, I’m sure.” He tilted his head. “Write to me when you get back, all right? Maybe they’ll let us keep working together. It would be nice to travel with someone who can actually cook.”
Yara hesitated, and Alistair’s smile faded. “Wait. You’re not… you’re not actually going to stay in Seheron, are you?”
She steadily returned his gaze. “I don’t know,” she said quietly.
He stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he stepped forward and hugged her.
She hugged him back and closed her eyes. A few moments later, he sniffled.
Yara drew back slightly. “Are you crying?” she said softly.
“No,” he said defensively. “I just – I smell something bad. I think it’s you. Did you step in Fen’ain’s you-know-what?”
His voice sounded distinctly muffled. Yara patted his shoulder. “Nope, no mabari poop. But it could be the darkspawn guts I rubbed on myself as an exotic perfume.” She patted his back and tried to release him, but he hugged her harder.
“If you do come back, write to me right away, will you?” he said. “Actually, you should write to me from Seheron. Tell me all about your adventures becoming a wild jungle woman.”
She chuckled. “You’ll be the first person to hear about it if I do. You be careful, all right?” She patted his back once more, then stepped back from him. “Dareth shiral, lethallin.”
“You too,” he said softly. “Assuming that meant something nice and not ‘you’re a stupid stinky human’.”
She gave him a tiny wink. “Would it be inaccurate if that’s what I said?”
He laughed, and Yara smiled at him one last time before turning away. She pulled up her hood to hide her long red hair and began silently threading her way through the market toward the docks.
Before she got more than thirty paces, Zevran sidled up to her with Oghren close behind. “My dear Grey Warden,” he purred. “You didn’t think you could slip away from the great Zevran without a farewell, did you?”
“Aye, the elf is right,” Oghren said. “You thought you could – burp – go sailing off without sharing a drink with us?”
Yara gave him a knowing look. “Does sharing a drink with you mean another sip of that horrible liquor you carry around?”
He pouted. “Not if you’re gonna talk about it like that.”
Zevran grimaced at Yara. “You had some of that swill he carries around? He offered it to you?”
She smiled. “I can’t tell if you’re more upset that I had some, or that he didn’t offer you any.”
“The former, of course,” he said. “I have nothing but a sincere concern for your health.”
Oghren harrumphed. “You’re just jealous you never got to take a swig of old Oghren’s special homemade brew.”
Yara raised her eyebrows, and Zevran laughed. “I assure you I have no interest whatsoever in your… special homemade brew.”
His tone was suggestive and pointed. Oghren blinked at him blearily for a moment before wrinkling his nose. “Aw, I didn’t mean–” He gave Zevran a look of deep disgust. “Not in a million years, you dirty Antivan nug-licker.”
Zevran dipped into an exaggerated bow. “The sentiment is entirely shared, my pungent friend.”
Yara gave them an exasperated smirk. “Is there any particular reason you two are following me to the docks? Are you coming to Seheron too?”
Zevran laughed lightly. “I think not. We have no interest in floating Sten’s boat.”
Oghren loudly guffawed. “Aye, we’re not the ones who wanna polish Sten’s oars.”
Zevran grinned at him, then turned back to Yara. “It’s true. We aren’t interested in scouring his deck or trimming his sails.”
Oghren snorted some liquor through his nose, then hastily wiped his face. “Or – or, uh, what’s-it-called, what’s the word – manning his helm! Hah!”
Zevran burst out laughing and clapped Oghren on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you remembered that one. I’m so very proud.”
Yara pressed her lips together hard to stop herself from laughing, then gave them both a chiding look. “Is that what you two have been doing all day? Coming up with dirty nautical one-liners?”
“Not at all,” Zevran said smoothly. “I picked a few pockets as well.”
“And I won another bet against that smug bastard Teagan,” Oghren said proudly. “He had to cough up five royals.” He patted the coin pouch on his belt – or rather, the spot on his belt where the coin pouch was supposed to be.
His eyes went wide. “Wait. Where’s my…” He trailed off and looked up at Zevran with a scowl. “You!”
Zevran innocently held up the pilfered coin pouch. “Come now, you made it frightfully easy.”
“Give me that!” Oghren snapped, and he snatched the pouch from Zevran’s fingers. “Thieving pointy-eared ponce.”
Zevran snickered. Then Yara stopped and turned to them. “All right, boys, we’re here. This is where I leave you.”
“So it is,” Zevran said. He took Yara’s hand and bowed gallantly, finishing the bow with a light kiss to the back of her hand. “As we say back home, bonne niviati. I wish you a very rocky journey with the sea pounding against your prow, if that is your desire.”
Oghren chuckled. “Aye. And I hope you get to rut with the qunari too.”
Zevran snorted delicately, and Yara tsked. “Is sex the only thing you two ever think about?”
“It should be,” Zevran retorted. “If all anyone ever thought about was sex, what a fine world this would be, no?”
“Why are you goin’ to Seheron, by the way?” Oghren asked suddenly.
Yara looked at him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, but his expression was surprisingly sober.
She gave him a small smile. “You follow me from the market all the way to the docks, and this is when you decide to ask me this?”
“You know what, the dwarf makes a fair point,” Zevran said. “It seems rather unlike you to sail away like this. I would have thought you would continue your Wardenly duties.”
Yara blinked at him. “You think it’s a bad idea for me to leave my Warden duties?”
“It’s not that,” Zevran said. “It’s simply… not like you.”
Her belly twisted slightly. He wasn’t wrong. Everything she’d done in the past year had been in the service of the Wardens. And even before that, she’d always done her best to serve the needs of her clan. The one time she’d done something even a little selfish was when she’d followed Tamlen into those ruins…
Tamlen. Her gut twisted again, this time with guilt and grief along with uncertainty. And as always, she pushed the feelings aside. No time, no point, she thought. Instead, she smiled at Zevran. “Are you calling me boring?” she said.
To her mild dismay, he didn’t smile. “Not at all,” he said. “I am calling you a woman of duty and honour. Dashing off on an impulsive adventure to a strange land where you’ve never been before, at great risk to yourself?” He shrugged elegantly. “You can see why I might express a concern.”
“It worked out well enough for you,” she reasoned.
“I had the great fortune of being defeated and dominated by you, my dear,” he said. Then he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though it seems you might be able to claim the same fortune with our giant stoic friend, if you flex your feminine charms. Of which you have many, might I add.” He slid a salacious look over her body.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Yara said wryly. She playfully tweaked his ear. “Be good, all right?”
“Impossible,” he purred.
Yara gave him a chiding look. “It’s not, and you know it.” She turned and smiled down at Oghren. “And you. Be kind to Felsi–”
“Hey, not so fast,” he interrupted. “You didn’t tell us why you’re goin’ on this trip. If you’re not trying to climb the qunari, then what’s the big idea?”
Yara sighed and pushed back her hood. “I… don’t really know,” she said.
Zevran and Oghren raised their eyebrows, and Yara shrugged helplessly. “I just… it just feels like the thing to do. Call it a gut feeling.”
Oghren nodded slowly. “All right, a gut feeling. I can see that. I get those sometimes. That’s how I knew I had to leave Orzammar.” He scratched his chin. “Though sometimes it just means I have to drop a load.”
Yara barked out a surprised laugh. Zevran lifted his eyes to the sky for patience, then gave Yara a charming smile. “On that delicate note: farewell, Yara Mahariel. May you find that which you seek during your journey.”
“Aye,” Oghren said. “Find whatever you’re looking for, you hear?”
“I will,” Yara said. “I hope.” She playfully tugged Oghren’s braided beard, then gave them both a warning look. “Be good, both of you.”
Zevran winked roguishly, and Oghren chuckled. Yara smiled at them, then turned and made her way along the docks toward the Rivaini ship that Sten had hired for his journey home.
Sten was waiting for her with his customary stern expression, but he wasn’t alone: Fen’ain was sitting at his feet. As soon as the mabari caught sight of Yara, his tail started to wag, but Sten spoke to him before he could move.
“Remember what we discussed,” he said sternly.
Fen’ain shifted slightly but remained seated at Sten’s feet, and Yara smiled at Sten as she approached them. “You’re the only other person that Fen’ain listens to other than me,” she told him.
“This mabari follows wisdom and strength,” Sten replied. “It is a shame that humans are not more like him.”
Yara huffed in amusement. Then Sten folded his arms. “I was not aware the mabari would be accompanying us as well.”
She winced. “Is that a problem? Can mabari not come on the ship?”
“They can,” Sten said. “But he must remain on the deck. I will not have his smell in our cabin.”
Her belly jolted in a funny way. “Our cabin?” she said.
Sten nodded. “I paid for one berth. I did not expect company during the journey. You are welcome to share with me, or you can arrange for your own place to sleep.”
Her mouth was suddenly dry. Somehow she hadn’t thought about the logistics of what it would mean to travel on a ship with Sten. Not that she’d really thought about any of this at all, but still – the idea of sleeping in the same cabin with him…
She glanced at the Rivaini ship. It wasn’t that big. Did cabins on Rivaini ships have more than one bed? Did they even have beds, or did people sleep in hammocks or something of the like?
Her mind was spinning, but Sten was waiting for an answer. She licked her lips. “You… don’t mind sharing with me?”
He frowned. “Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know,” she said. Then she laughed nervously. This seemed to be the only thing she could say today.
He continued to frown at her for a moment longer, then shrugged and unfolded his arms. “I’ve grown accustomed to your presence at night in camp. You are welcome to stay.”
She smiled at him. “It almost sounds like you enjoy my company, Sten.”
He peered carefully at her. “Is that flirting?”
She burst out a surprised laugh. Fenedhis, her cheeks were turning warm. “Why, um… why would you say that?” she said.
“The other elf advised me to look for it,” Sten said. “Was that flirting?”
Bloody Zevran, Yara thought. She swallowed before replying. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I… I don’t know.”
Sten lifted his chin slightly. “It seems that there is a lot you don’t know, kadan.”
She laughed and idly tugged a lock of her hair. “So it seems,” she said ruefully.
He studied her silently in that way he had, like she was a puzzle that he was trying to solve, and Yara waited tensely for him to speak. Usually she didn’t mind his silence; it was one of the first things that Yara had come to appreciate about him, in fact.
That wasn’t to say she was bothered by everyone else’s talking. She enjoyed the others’ chatter, and the moments when they’d sat by the campfire talking together as a group were the moments when she’d felt most at home. In those precious moments, when Leliana was strumming her lute and Wynne was knitting a scarf and softly scolding Alistair while Zevran and Oghren insulted each other, Yara could almost fool herself into thinking that this was similar to sitting with Tamlen and Ashalle and Fenarel while listening to Hah’ren Paivel’s stories after the evening meal with her clan.
But as time went on, with the Ferelden civil war and the Blight growing more urgent and more gruesome, Yara had found herself gravitating more and more toward Sten. There was something about his stillness that called to her: the aura of calm that he maintained, no matter how terrible things became. Whether they were in Redcliffe trying to deal with demons, or being ambushed by bandits or darkspawn or giant spiders while travelling or while trying to find their way through the damned Deep Roads, Sten always maintained this enviable sense of quiet, even though Yara knew he was constantly thinking and processing everything that was going on. Even when he was irritated, even when he made his sarcastic remarks and questioned her actions, he still had this perfect sense of stillness and calm.
And Yara, in turn, found herself feeling more calm when she was around him.
At this moment, however, she wasn’t feeling particularly calm. Sten was still studying her with his particular brand of focused curiosity, and her heart was thrumming in an unnerving sort of way.
Worse yet, now she couldn’t stop thinking about Zevran and Oghren’s stupid nautical dirty one-liners.
She finally caved in and spoke first. “So, er, how long is the journey to Seheron?”
He raised his eyebrows slightly. “We are not going to Seheron. We are going to Par Vollen.”
She blinked at him in genuine surprise. “We are?”
“Yes,” he said. “I must report to the Arishok.”
“Oh,” she said. “No, I mean, yes – o-of course. That makes sense.” She rubbed her nose, feeling foolish for not realizing that Par Vollen would be their destination. But her chest was really jangling with nerves now. Going to the war-torn island of Seheron was one thing; she couldn’t imagine that stepping into a perpetual war zone would feel that much different than the horrors of the past year. Going straight to the qunari homeland was another matter, however.
“You are afraid,” Sten said.
He was frowning once more. Yara squared her shoulders. “Yes,” she said truthfully. “But I’m still going to come with you.”
His expression softened slightly. “It is good to master your fear. Your courage does you credit. I will show you our cabin.” He took a step toward the gangplank.
“Oh,” Yara said quickly. “Before I forget, I – I brought you something.” She shrugged off her bag and pulled out a rectangular packet wrapped in a piece of thin cotton cloth, then handed the packet to Sten.
He untied the cotton cloth and peeled back the corner of the protective waxcloth. “What is…” He trailed off, and his eyebrows rose.
“It’s cake,” Yara explained. “Dalish fruit cake. I made it last night. To make up for the lack of cake at the feast.”
Sten blinked, then lifted his gaze from the cake to her face. “Thank you.”
She waved dismissively. “I hope you like it,” she said. “It’s – I had to improvise a bit because there was no butter left in Eamon’s kitchen, not after the big feast, so I had to use applesauce which isn’t nearly the same, but–”
Sten interrupted her. “I like it,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side. “You haven’t even had any yet.”
“It is a thoughtful gift,” he said. “I appreciate it, kadan.”
His tone was slightly softer than usual, and Yara’s heart fluttered with pleasure. She smiled at him. “You’re welcome, Sten.”
He nodded, then carefully wrapped the waxcloth back over the cake. “I might even share it.”
She chuckled. “I would hope so. It’s a rather large cake.”
“I am a large person,” he said. “Compared to the rest of you bas, at least.” He jerked his chin at Fen’ain, who was still sitting attentively at his feet. “Go.”
Fen’ain bolted up the gangplank onto the ship. Sten looked at Yara once more. “Are you ready to depart?”
Yara took a deep breath and glanced back at the Denerim docks, which were bustling with activity. People were cleaning debris from the darkspawn destruction, using fishing nets to drag debris from the water and repairing broken boats at the dock and calling out to each other, and their children were running around and shouting and playing despite the mess. There were Chantry sisters and brothers giving out food and reciting bits of the Chant, and a few opportunistic merchants trying to sell goods that had likely been gained by ill means, and it was all so incredibly loud.
She turned to Sten, who was standing silently at her side. She looked up into his stern violet eyes and nodded. “Yes,” said. “I’m ready.”