Chapter Text
Unsurprisingly, she was laughing when Carver walked in. What was surprising was that she was doing so with a fucking enormous Qunari.
It was only because she was laughing that he hadn’t drawn his sword by the time she saw him and waved him over.
His expression was even as he looked at the Iron Bull.
“Raina,” he greeted her as he joined them at the bar. She grinned up at him, her eyes bright.
“Carver! This is The Iron Bull. The Iron Bull, this is Carver.”
“No last names, huh?” The Qunari said, signaling to the barkeep to bring another ale.
“We’ve sacrificed our family names in honor of Andraste,” she said solemnly. Carver gave her a look.
“Yeah, that’s not a thing,” the Qunari said.
She burst out laughing.
“You’re supposed to play along,” she chided the shirtless behemoth.
Carver’s brow arched. The Qunari grinned.
“Please, your guy knew the minute he saw you cracking up that you’d blown your cover.”
Her jaw dropped, then she looked at Carver.
“I did not blow my cover,” she told him.
The Qunari snorted.
“She got made as soon as she walked in,” he said.
“That is not the same,” she said, pointing up at the Qunari. She turned back to Carver and said,
“I’m quite certain he works in intelligence. He keeps trying to tell me he’s just a mercenary, but also can’t resist telling me all the ways he knew who I am, when really, he probably just intercepted Leliana’s agents, or more likely, she decided it was best to let him think he had so that he didn’t give me the full screening process he probably would have had planned.”
Now the Qunari’s jaw had dropped, and she turned to grin smugly up at him, and he threw his head back, laughing.
Then he looked at Carver, genuine mirth in his eye.
“I like your boss here, guy. And not just ‘cause she seems to win Qunari hearts and minds wherever she goes.”
She snorted. “I may have won Sten’s respect –”
“He’s Arishok now,” the Qunari told her. Her smile was genuine, fond, and a bit proud.
“Unsurprising,” she said, then continued, “I may have won Arishok’s respect – and maybe his heart, a little –” another little smile, but then her expression became more serious, her eyes wide. “But his predecessor in Kirkwall? No, no. No hearts or minds were won there.”
“I can attest to that,” Carver agreed.
“Well, since everyone left that meeting alive, by all reports, odds are likely that the fact that you’d worked closely with and won over a well-respected Sten earned you some cred with the Arishok you met in Kirkwall,” The Iron Bull said as the bartender put another tankard of ale in front of him. He handed it to Carver, then took a swig of his own. “I mean that, and the whole saving the world thing.”
“I suppose that could be,” she mused. The Iron Bull laughed.
“What?” she said defensively. “I don’t work in diplomacy, typically.”
Carver snorted.
“Only because we stay on the road and out of all the trouble you’d get us into,” he said, nodding at the Qunari in acknowledgment and raising his drink to him before taking a pull.
Her affronted look was well-practiced and familiar.
“I would not get us into trouble,” she said, indignant.
“That would probably be true if you weren’t Grey Wardens,” The Iron Bull acknowledged. “But you’ve got a whole loyalty or principles thing that’s a problem if you’re supposed to be neutral.”
She looked at him narrowly.
“I am absolutely capable of remaining neutral in a conflict.”
Carver took a long drink of his ale.
She sucked her teeth.
“Oh, shut up, both of you,” she said, then laughed. “Carver, you are a disloyal lout of a traitor, and you, The Iron Bull, are a cad and a brute.”
“Not a brute!” the Qunari said, putting a hand to his chest with a gasp.
She laughed some more.
“The cheek,” she lamented, shaking her head.
Carver smirked, taking a swig of his ale.
“Not that I wouldn’t like to stay at the tavern and get smashed, but oughtn’t we find your friend and have ourselves introduced?”
She squinted at him.
“Just let me finish this?” she asked. He arched a brow.
The Qunari was sipping his own drink, eye following their conversation.
“It’s only the second, I’m fine,” she said. Carver said nothing, just took a sip of his own drink.
She scowled at him and set the tankard down, then looked at the Qunari, pointing a finger at him.
“Not a word out of you,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a grin.
She descended from the barstool with a graceful little hop.
“All right,” she said, gathering her pack and her staff. “So, The Iron Bull, since you seem to be a Knower of Things, where might one find the lovely lady Leliana?”
“Oh, she’s up at the top of the tower. But she’ll probably be waiting for you at the entrance to the castle by the time you get there.”
She smiled then.
“Oh, she’s so lovely.”
The Iron Bull laughed, then turned to Carver.
“Is she for real?” he asked.
“Oh, most definitely,” Carver nodded, setting his drink down.
Raina scoffed.
“You know, it is possible to be a competent and skilled person without having to be a Rough and Hardened Danger Cynic,” she said, pointing at the Qunari.
“Apparently,” the Qunari said with a thoughtful smile.
Carver smirked and gave The Iron Bull a salute as he followed her out of the tavern and toward the castle.
--
Her heart swelled when she saw her favorite redhead leaning against the doorway into the castle, and despite her strongest impulses, greeted her with a nod.
Leliana acknowledged her in kind, then motioned for her and Carver to follow. She took them through a side door, through a winding maze of stone, candle-lit corridors. Finally, they reached a rather large, well-appointed antechamber where, grinning hugely, she launched herself at Leliana. The spymaster caught her in a tight hug, laughing.
“Raina, you are absurd!” she said. Then, pulling away to look at her, “How have you managed to survive this long being so ridiculous?”
She leaned up to kiss Leliana’s cheeks and replied with a grin, “By only being so ridiculous with the very best people.”
She let go of her friend so that Carver could greet her properly. Leliana gave him a warmer than polite, but not quite friendly smile.
“Ser Hawke,” she said.
“My lady Leliana,” he replied with a bow.
Leliana smiled wryly.
“Hardly a lady,” she replied.
“We’ll have to disagree,” Carver said.
“How lovely,” Leliana remarked. “Are all Wardens so chivalrous, then?”
“Hardly,” Raina replied wryly. Carver gave her a look . She ignored him but smiled. “But Carver is one of the best.”
“Indeed,” Leliana said with a slight, thoughtful smile. “Now, let’s get the introductions out of the way so that we can catch up, no? You can leave your things in here, they’ll be taken up to your rooms.”
“Oh my, our rooms,” she said. “I hardly know what to do with such finery!”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Carver said.
“I’m sure you’re right,” she replied, casting him a grin. “But I should at least pretend humility. I thought I might offer to sleep on a straw pallet in the stables first.”
Leliana laughed. “We’ll just pretend we went through a cycle of humble refusals and hospitable insistence,” she said.
“Perfect,” she grinned, and Carver shook his head, though his lips were curved slightly.
“What’s this I hear about a strange little visitor?” a smooth, resonant voice emerged from a door across the room.
Raina’s eyes widened and a huge smile spread across her face.
“Excuse me, madam, I am neither strange, nor little – I can’t help it if your race is a bit on the oafish side,” she said as she turned to another old friend. Politely, she gave a little curtsey, still grinning.
“Oh, don’t be stupid, come here,” the witch demanded in a convincing rendition of irritation – though the tightness of her hug when Raina grinningly launched herself at her said otherwise.
“I missed you terribly, you horrible woman,” she chided her.
“’Twas not I who decided to go gallivanting all over Thedas,” Morrigan reminded her.
She pulled back to give the dark-haired witch a look.
“No, just between dimensions through dodgy ancient magic,” she said.
“The magic of your people, pet,” Morrigan pointed out.
“Don’t remind me,” she said with a sigh. “If not for this stupid curse, I, too, could be learning the lost secrets of Elvhenan and the former glory of my people.”
There must have been something a bit too real in the wistfulness of her tone, because Morrigan said,
“Well, then, do hurry up and unravel all that Taint nonsense so we can get down to the serious work, hmm?”
“Yes, madam,” she said, giving a little salute.
Leliana, during this conversation, had been speaking quietly with Carver, who was smiling as she hadn’t seen him do in quite some time. Morrigan rolled her eyes.
“Gods, she’s so delighted to have someone not affiliated with the Inquisition to flirt with,” she said.
“Oh, come now, Leliana was never really a flirt,” she replied, watching the exchange.
“Oh please, all that doe-eyed eyelash batting, I’m surprised she didn’t develop a twitch.”
“Morrigan! You can’t still be so easily annoyed.”
“I’m not,” she admitted with a small grin. “But it’s amusing to pretend.”
She looked up at Morrigan with a slight smile.
“So how’s being a mum?” she asked; Morrigan’s expression softened, and the smile that curved her lips was of a nature Raina had never seen on her before.
“Quite extraordinary,” she said softly. “You shall meet Kieran anon. But I imagine you should at least put in an appearance with the Inquisitor first.”
“What’s she like?” she asked.
“Quite a bit more serious than you, I’d say,” Morrigan said with a laugh.
“That’s not a very high bar,” Leliana chimed in with a grin.
“Well, running a whole Inquisition seems like it must be quite serious, as far as serious business goes,” Raina pointed out.
“No more serious than building an army and defeating an Archdemon to end a blight,” Leliana said.
Raina waved her hand.
“That was ages ago,” she said.
“And you were no more serious then than you are now,” Morrigan said with a smirk.
“Never has been,” Carver added.
Raina drew herself up with great dignity and grace.
“All my dearest companions betray me,” she said with a feigned huff, then laughed.
“Come,” Leliana said, moving toward two grand oak doors at the center of the far wall. “You’ll like her. And she’ll adore you.”