Chapter Text
Aleksanteri prodded the dead body with a stick, carefully lifting the eyelid with the tip it and tilting her head thoughtfully. “She’s dead.” Obviously, her brain snarked. The fact that there was a gigantic hole in the middle of her chest instead of breasts was sort of a dead giveaway.
She sat back on her butt and drew her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “This is a problem.”
Instead of dying, as she’d so clearly been about to as she skidded headlong into traffic, she’d crashed headlong into a forest filled with dead people. Her bike was whole, if a bit scratched, and the packages she’d been delivering were all whole and with her…
“…”
“Cigarettes and cocaine.” She made a noise of irritation and turned the large bag of white powder in her hand, surrounded by brown paper. Stacked next to her was a pile of over twenty packages of cigarettes. “I don’t know what I expected considering its Anthony’s.” She dropped the bag. “Was Anthony’s, I suppose.” She scrubbed her short hair. “Oh man is he gonna be pissed.” She giggled nervously.
She’d been working for Anthony since he found her ten-year-old self digging through a garbage can and forcefully recruited her. He’d gotten her inked with his mark some long seven months later.
She reached up and touched the underside of her left eye where the thick blocky letters spelled out котенок, the last letter touching just above her lip.
At fifteen she’d rebelled by slowly starting to ink up the rest of her skin. It started with Harley Quinn on her arm, weaving in with Poison Ivy, Catwoman, Batgirl- her right arm had quickly been filled with Star Wars characters and her chest and back had a myriad of different fantasy and sci-fi characters all mixing together with marks and titles from different shows and films. She’d only recently finished her right leg with Dragon Age characters and her left was half-finished with lord of the rings elves, Galadriel staring up at her from her thigh.
Anthony had lashed her the first time he saw them but it hadn’t stopped her from getting more.
… She might have gone slightly overboard.
But they made the loneliness bearable
Shaking her head roughly before her mind wandered down bad parts she rose quickly. Stuffing the cocaine and most of the cigarettes down her satchel she dumped the rest into the basket hooked to the side of her bicycle. “No use hanging around dead bodies.” She rationalised. “Signs of life is always good. And water. What I wouldn’t do for some water…”
About five hours later she was thoroughly regretting only wearing a t-shirt and jeans and not packing a bottle of water or crackers or something.
But then, she hadn’t exactly planned to skid into traffic and end up in the middle of nowhere instead of dying.
“Bad thoughts, bad thoughts,” she hummed to herself.
At least her sneakers weren’t totally useless. Only slightly. As in, her socks were wet from the mud sinking through but at least they weren’t sloshing with water.
“Although if they had been filled with water, at least I’d be able to drink it,” she mused.
She leaned her bike against a large tree after retreating a bit into the forest. Enough that she wasn’t immediately visible but still close enough to keep an eye out. She broke some large branches and piled them up, using her bike to build a rough shelter for the night.
She curled up, huddling up with her satchel close to her chest and one leg half-hooked around her bike.
-
One moment she was dunking her face into a stream and practically sucking the water down her parched throat and two seconds later she was puking it right back up.
Idiot! Her mind howled. She knew better! She did. But she was on her fifth day in this, this limbo and all she’d had was dew carefully sucked from leaves in the morning. She knew hunger, she knew what her body did when it was overwhelmed after days of nothing.
She spat acidic water from her mouth, panting. And then carefully bent down to lap a mouthful of fresh cool water and waited anxiously for her stomach to settle. It took a good two hours before she dared to swallow down one proper mouthful after the other.
She collapsed on the grass, panting.
“Fucking hell, I’m alive,” she grinned up at the midday sun, her stomach aching, but feeling satisfied.
Of course, that’s when she saw the dragon.
One second she was slumbering beneath the sun, the other a large shadow whipped over her with enough force to send her bike crashing into her as she clung wide-eyed to the grass. “Wow.” She gaped at the glittering golden hide of the large creature and clamped her hands over her ears as it roared, loud and mighty. Large claws, a long snout with long sharp teeth and a wickedly long tail with rows of spikes and a thick club of them at the end. There was no mistaking the creature.
She struggled out from beneath her bike and stared up at the circling… dragon…
“…”
“It’s gonna try and eat me, isn’t it?” It landed, earth shaking and Alek swallowed thickly, grabbing her satchel and hugging it close as she stumbled back. “Called it.” She spun, yanking her bike up and straddled it in one go, desperate to get it going. "Worst fucking afterlife ever."
She skidded left violently, narrowly dodging a blast of ice cold frost tearing past her. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BREATHE FIRE!?” She shouted at the dragon, wide-eyed.
The dragon roared in response.
There were no trees and Aleksanteri peddled fiercely towards the large rocky outcrop that looked vaguely like she might lead to a cave-
That’s when fire whipped past her.
For one bewildered second she thought that the dragon had decided to be a proper fire-breathing dragon – but then there was a man with a stick and the most beautiful moustache she had ever seen. And there was a short haired woman with shield and sword and brilliant white eye on her chest and –
Bloody fucking hell, her limbo was Dragon Age.
She came to a skidding halt before she managed to drive right into a hulking Iron Bull and stopped, gaping. “Not what I expected when I woke up.” She blubbered somewhat nervously to herself as Iron Bull roared and tore past her to heave his large hammer against the unprotected side of the golden beast.
“Get back!” A Nevarran accented voice snapped at her in irritation and Aleksanteri squeaked, her heart leaping at seeing Cassandra Bloody Pentaghast in person.
But then cold blasted past her and she figured her admiration could wait until she wasn’t being contemplated as food for a fantasy creature in a video game.
“I’d keep well out of the way with that strange contraption of yours if I were you.” A Tevene accent drawled and she swallowed as she turned to look at Dorian Pavus in the flesh, his staff raised as he kept his protective shield over the three fighters down by the dragon.
She rolled forward, closer, and peered down at the Iron Bull and the Seeker and the unfamiliar qunari she’d been too distracted to take note of properly. The sparkling of its left hand was sort of a dead giveaway to just who she was looking at.
Fire magic and electricity slammed into the beast and Aleksanteri felt a bubbling of respect for the way Dorian manipulated the elements. The brute strength of Iron Bull and the finesse of Cassandra as she masterfully slammed her shield into one dragonling while beheading another and spun to bury her sword into the thigh of the large beast.
The Herald twirled a magic staff in their left hand and a sword in their right, skin so grey it was practically purple.
“Get down!” Dorian shouted and Aleksanteri, who knew that tone, fell flat before the words thoroughly registered. “Don’t just stand there.” The mage berated once the blast of ice had passed. “You’ll end up colder than our dear Ambassador in the morning.”
Half of her mind went; omghe’stalkingaboutJosephine while the other got her stumbling towards the Altus who spared a curious glance from the corner of his eyes.
Alek nervously edged down the right leg of her pants with the tip of her boot, suddenly feeling oddly stalkerish. She was very thankful for the life choices that made her get into DC and Star Wars long before she discovered Dragon Age.
Although, knowing Dorian’s ego he might just appreciate his beautiful face smirking from her calf.
That, before he left her in Leliana and Iron Bulls clever hands.
She stuck close to Dorian, sprinting when he did, kicking dragonlings as they swarmed around them until someone but her got a weapon into them, and generally tried very hard not to be a nuisance.
She yelped when she was hoisted into the air before she could be severed by arm long claws and found herself on a giant back. “Stick tight.” Iron Bull grumbled to her and Aleksanteri looped her arms tight around a thick grey neck just as the dragon shrieked.
Only sheer stubbornness kept her from sliding boneless to the ground. Iron Bull stumbled but kept up and Dorian was shielded by a scowling Herald as Cassandra knelt behind her shield, teeth clenched tight as she struggled against the effect of dragon magic washing over them.
Cassandras sword finally drove past the stubbornly thick hide as Iron Bull drove his hammer down its head and Dorian and the Herald cracked the air with thick electrical magic.
Aleksanteri slowly slid down the large qunari’s back, stumbling woozily.
“That’s one way to spend one’s Monday.” She reached out to study herself on a rock. The sound of a sword sheeting made her look up and squint at the Herald.
Qunari, golden eyes, long black hair braided back and large curling horns. Golden rings dangled from both ears and he looked… kind, in a way that felt very un-qunari and she blinked at the warm smile the blood covered oxman gifted her with.
“You okay down there?”
She gave a weak thumbs-up. “Up there?”
His smile grew. “Other than the giant green breach in the sky and the fact that the fate of the world rests on my shoulders I can’t complain.”
“Herald.” Cassandra sounded exasperated.
Dorian, meanwhile, had wandered off to study her bike. “What a curious contraption.” Aleksanteri sincerely hoped he didn’t make any attempt to peer into her bag. She wasn’t sure cocaine was supposed to be introduced to the world of Thedas. “I have never seen such a thing like this.” He’d found the bell and flinched back at the sound it made.
She valiantly smothered a laugh with a cough.
“A friend made it for me.” She lied, waltzing towards him to inconspicuously grab her bag. “She said to me, ‘Aleksanteri, you move too slow, like a slug’.”
“So your name is Aleksanteri?” Iron Bull ambled towards them. “Quite the mouthful.”
“Most just call me Alek.” Untrue, she didn’t think anyone had ever called her Alek, it had always been Al or Ale when someone caught her downing too much… Ale.
Iron Bull studied her in consideration, his eyes lingering on the grinning face of Harley Quinn and the bedroom eyes of Poison Ivy.
She could practically hear his spymind working overtime.
“Thank you for not letting the dragon kill me.” She said, turning abruptly to the Herald. “I thought I was dragon meat there for a second.”
“That’s what we do.” He said easily. “Name’s Kaaras Adaar.” He hitched a thumb towards Dorian. “That nosey mage is Dorian Pavus, this gallant lady Cassandra Pentaghast and the one you hitched a ride on is no other than the Iron Bull. We’re from the Inquisition.”
“What he’s not saying is that he practically is the Inquisition.” Dorian said smoothly. “Herald of Andraste, Leader of the Inquisition, in the flesh.”
Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “What are you doing out here on your own?” She demanded.
“Adventuring.” Alek answered immediately. “On my bike.”
“I would say you’re doing mighty fine on your own but I saw you puke up water not three hours ago.” Iron Bull grinned.
“I was robbed.” Alek lied, unperturbed. “My food, water skin and money all stolen- hey,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “you didn’t think of offering some help when you saw me puking up my guts?”
The qunari shrugged. “We were having a break,” he answered, grin widening as her gaze darkened.
“You’re welcome to come along back to camp.” Kaaras stepped in, ignoring the resigned ‘Herald’ from Cassandra.
Rationally she knew, BAD IDEA. But on the other hand…
Her stomach grumbled loudly and she was reminded of the fact that she hadn’t eaten in five days. “If-If you don’t mind terribly.” She smiled sheepishly.
-
“I would love to know the name of the friend of yours who made this contraption, bike, you called it?” Dorian pinched the wheels and touched the chain as Alek very carefully spooned some soup into her mouth.
“She is very dead.” Leah, from whom she’d stolen the bike from, was, in fact, very dead.
“A great loss.” Dorian frowned and retreated back to sit down beside her by the fire. Alek suspected he itched to take her bike apart and learn everything he could about it.
In the silence she could hear Cassandra scolding the Herald for being so careless to invite strangers along. From what little she’d played of the game it seemed quite in character for the Inquisitor to sort of pick up companions randomly. Kaaras, for his part, looked sheepish in the face of the Seeker’s wrath.
“Those are some interesting tattoos.” Iron Bull rumbled, sitting down with soup and bread. “Never seen anything quite like them. More friends involved?” There was more weight to the question than Alek liked.
“No.” She swallowed, willing her body to keep the broth down. “I just paid for them.” Unbidden her hand rose to the letters on her face.
“You can share a tent with Cassandra for the night.” Kaaras said when he returned. Cassandra didn’t look very pleased by that and her eyes held a warning when they landed on Alek.
Despite Cassandras clear displeasure at having a stranger in their midst, especially someone like her, the woman handed her a tunic to borrow and Alek pulled it on gratefully. It was long sleeved and warm and she sighed in pleasure as she crawled into the sleeping bag she’d been allowed to borrow.
.
She woke with a swallowed cry, panting, a hand on her shoulder and a voice in her ear. For a moment she couldn’t make sense of the world but then Cassandra’s furrowed eyes slowly came into view and she scrambled into a sitting position.
“I-I’m sorry.” She choked out, desperately fighting down a whimper.
“Go back to sleep.” The warrior woman said simply, rolling over to give her privacy.
Alek willed her heart to slow and memories to fade.
-
They met up with Inquisition soldiers the next day and Alek found herself seated behind Dorian on a horse. She had never even seen a horse in her life and now she was sitting on one, clinging to Dorian for dear life as her rump rose and fell with its movements.
“W-why couldn’t I stay on my bike?” She demanded, squeezing Dorian and wishing feverishly for the day to end.
“Because we’ll be passing through a swamp, my dear. And that contraption of yours would hardly been any good there.” Dorian said with clear amusement. The Altus looked perfectly comfortable despite her clinging to his waist like an octopus. Alek felt a stab of envy.
“You have to raise them pretty hips of yours with the movement of the beast,” Iron Bull sided up beside them. “Like you’re fucking it.”
“That is not how you ride a horse, Iron Bull.” Kaaras exclaimed at the same time Cassandra made a disgusted noise. Iron Bull merely grinned.
Dorian did attempt to teach her the basics and Alek did try to mirror his movement, but it was hard, and by the time Skyhold came into view a week later, her thighs ached so fiercely that Kaaras had to lift her from the horse that had become her object of her spite. “Never again.” She swore as the sympathetic Herald patted her on her shoulder.
Before he left he promised to send someone to show her a room, “just stay with Iron Bull for now and someone will come along,” before ambling away with Cassandra after Dorian who had already left to take a long bath.
She was too tired to think too closely on why she’d been stuck to Iron Bull and was merely thankful to stumble along to the tavern and collapse with a groan on a proper, unmoving, surface.
“I told you to fuck the horse.” Iron Bull said helpfully, sliding a tank of ale and a bowl of meat and potatoes and half a loaf of bread.
A laughter Alek would have recognised anywhere broke from her left and she turned wide-eyed to a grinning Varric Tethras in the flesh. “I don’t know what they teach you under that qun of yours but that is most certainly not how you ride a horse, Tiny.” Varric watched her with intelligent eyes and Alek smothered the urge to fix her hair.
“That is some fine chest hair,” her tired mind conjured as a greeting.
“Ah, it is – isn’t it.” Varric grinned at her. “This is some unusually perceptive company you’re keeping here.”
Alek missed the look exchanged above her head and the way Varric’s eyes narrowed before relaxing.
“Aleksanteri’s the name.” She offered, spooning some meat into her mouth and chewing hungrily. She drowned the mug of ale and closed her eyes as she slowly relaxed into her seat.
“Varric Tethras at your service.” He bowed theatrically, while waving another mug of ale for her.
Alek downed half before spooning more food into her mouth. She blinked tiredly.
“So where are you from?” Varric made himself comfortable on the bench.
A distant part of her thought that all that was missing was Leliana, but that quickly faded as tiredness overcame her.
“Detroit.” She mumbled out. “’s in the west.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any… Detroit.” Varric pronounced the word carefully. “Good place?”
“Bloody awful.” Alek drowned more ale and before she could blink there was another one before her. “I don’t recommend it.”
Varric hummed. “So how did you end up here in Skyhold?”
Alek furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t know.” She pouted. “Chance?” The words slurred oddly in her mouth. “I died and then I didn’t die and then I was there and everything was gone.” She thought of Anthony in her dreams and swallowed down her panic. “I didn’t mean to be here.” She didn’t mean to be anywhere.
Careening out into traffic… it hadn’t horrified her as much as come as a relief.
Iron Bull and Varric were talking beside her and she did try to answer the questions but eventually she blinked through the cotton in her mind and tipped sluggishly. The qunari caught her before she could slip off the bench. “Easy there.” He murmured. He said something more but Alek was already deep asleep.
-
“Kitten.” Anthony stroked her cheek gently. “You know I don’t like it when you run.”
She was twelve, staring up at the man who’d decided she belonged to him. “I’m sorry.” She said, knowing it was useless before even opening her mouth.
Anthony shook his head in disappointment. “I really thought I could trust you this time.” He said mournfully. “You know how I hate to punish you.”
“I’m sorry, Master.” She swallowed.
The whip uncoiled with easy precision. “I only do it for your own good, you know that right?”
“Yes, Master.”
His grin was fiendish with pleasure as she turned and removed her clothes, baring her ruined back to his hungry gaze.
-
“I need to stop drinking.” Alek blinked at the ceiling, promptly rolled over and fell back to sleep.
-
Skyhold was… strange. She’d sort of expected Haven but she knew it changed later in the game from Francis chatter so wasn’t terribly thrown by it.
She hadn’t seen the Herald since their arrival but she could see Cassandra each morning by the recruits and she’d bypassed the tavern enough to know where Iron Bull spent most of his time with his chargers when he wasn’t training them.
She’d quickly been put to work and given a tent to sleep in with two other girls who kept away from her as if she was something diseased.
In fact, other than Iron Bull and his chargers, most seemed to regard her with great caution and outright distrust.
It hadn’t hit her on her journey to Skyhold because she’d been treated kindly by both Kaaras and Dorian. But her tattoos and her short blood red hair and her accent made people look twice. At least she’d been allowed to keep the tunic Cassandra borrowed her and a pair of leather pants and boots courtesy of Varric who’d taken pity on her. But she still stood out like a sore thumb and her 21st century behaviour was doing her no favours.
And, alright, maybe decking the soldier hadn’t been the best way to blend in but really, the prejudice against mages were ridiculous.
And maaaybe calling that Templar at the tavern out on his sexist behaviour hadn’t exactly made an impression with the soldiers.
But for the first time in her life she was free from Anthony and she’d be damned if she let anyone walk right over here.
Even if… even if it left her a bit lonely. It wasn’t like it was anything new.
She stroked her thumb over Morrigan and Leliana, past the characters from Origins and Dragon Age II to Josephine and Sera all down by her foot.
She didn’t think Anders by her knee would earn her any favours but she stroked an admiring finger down Isabela’s sultry grin and intelligent eyes.
“They don’t know me. I know me.”
She blew air through her nose and straightened. She wondered if she could get a piercing like Isabela, only in silver. She already had a row of hoops in her left ear, it’d match.
She amused herself by such daydreams throughout the days, helping wherever she could in lack of any constructive way to dealing with her life. She didn’t have any background, life, family or friends in this world and the only people she actively talked with was a qunari spy and a dwarven author when she happened across him.
And even those two she was talking less and less with, disappearing into her head and daydreams as she’d done when Anthony had his bad days and kept her locked up.
Bad habits, Leah had said when she’d stopped by to patch her up and found her staring at the wall.
So it came as a bit of a surprise when four months after her arrival to Skyhold Kaaras shouted her name across the courtyard and jogged up to her, clearly pleased to see her. He’d been chatting with Leliana who was left blinking in surprise on the steps of Skyhold.
“Kaaras.” She had to clear her throat, shaking her head to clear away muddled thoughts of Rivendell, elves and evil rings. “How are you?”
“I could ask you the same.” He frowned at the dark bags under her eyes “I’m glad you decided to stay.”
She shrugged a bit helplessly. “Don’t really have anything else going on. And, you know, fighting an evil entity trying to take over the world feels like a mighty cause as any. Even if I’m not… you know… doing any real fighting.” She scratched the tip of her ear.
“Inquisitor.” Leliana sidled up beside Kaaras, all pleasant and inquisitive eyes. Alek wasn’t fooled for a second. “You left so suddenly.”
Alek swallowed deeply at the sight of one of her heroes, the woman she’d romanced on her first playthrough of Dragon Age Origins home at Francis three years ago.
“Alek, this is Leliana – one of my advisors. Leliana, this is Aleksanteri.”
“Ah, the woman with the bike,” the beautiful Orlesian drawl sent a shiver down her spine,“it is a pleasure to meet you.” Her bike, parked carefully outside her tent, was a frequent topic of gossip.
“Just call me Alek,” she waved a hand in greeting.
“What are you doing out here?” Kaaras asked curiously.
She held up the pile of clothes in her arms. “Helping the Inquisition?”
She wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that. One moment she was chatting with Kaaras and holding a pile of clothes and the next she was standing before Josephine Montilyet with Kaaras gesturing enthusiastically towards her and chatting a mile a minute. Leliana hoovered in the doorway beside her as she blinked owlishly at the happenings, arms empty.
“He must have taken a real liking to you,” Leliana murmured softly, her eyes lingering on the inked frown of Leia and the gun in her hands.
“I haven’t seen him in four months. I didn’t think he remembered me,” she said a bit shellshocked.
Kaaras clapped her on her shoulder and grinned at her. “I leave you in Josie’s capable hands. Let’s have dinner down at the tavern later.” And then he and Leliana was gone, the redhead no doubt about to squeeze Kaaras for any information regarding her.
“Lady Aleksanteri.” Josephine beckoned her towards the desk. “My name is Josephine Montilyet, ambassador of the Inquisition.” Her Antivan accent rolled pleasantly from her tongue. “Kaaras said you were looking for some other duties around Skyhold.” They both knew that wasn’t exactly the case but Aleksanteri nodded anyhow.
“Anywhere I can be of more help, really.” She looked around herself, admiring the plush red sofa, the piles of documents carefully sorted and the elegant feather sticking up from a stop of ink. Josephine’s fine golden clothes was the most beautiful thing she had seen since she arrived to Thedas and she itched to smooth her hands down the soft fabric and those beautiful curves…
She forcefully tore her mind back to the presence, feeling vaguely disgusted by herself for so blatantly ogling the other woman.
Josephine asked a lot of questions and Alek scrambled her brain to answer them. She’d become something of a Jack of All Trades under Anthony, and while not everything could be applied to Thedas there was plenty that could.
Like the fact that she could read and write in common-tongue (English), Orlesian (French) and Antivan (Spanish). She also spoke fluent Russian which she was sort of half-connecting to Cassandras Nevarran roots but decided to keep to herself as she wasn’t completely sure. She was quick and already had most of Skyhold mapped out from delivering laundry absolutely everywhere.
Josephine tapped the table thoughtfully, studying her.
Alek wandered what she saw, if she looked as strange to the Antivan woman as the rest of Skyhold.
She’d been a bit taken by Josephine from the very first scene in Inquisition where her accent had practically made her melt against the couch. She’d been well on her way to romancing Josephine before Francis was killed and shit went a good way south for a while.
She wasn’t sure if it was a relief to not have finished the game or unnerving knowing that everything always got worse in the Dragon Age games. She was just waiting, having heard rumours of at least one character being some traitor of sort, and kept her ear out for gossip.
But Leliana’s agents were good and she didn’t get nearly enough information filtered from the top.
Which…
Which was good... if an inconvenience to her.
-
“Well, this is a surprise.” Alek wasn’t exactly sure who was more surprised, Dorian or her. The Altus mage was looking her up and down slowly after Josephine had dropped her off. “To think the stranger from the plains would be fluent in Orlesian and Antivan. You don’t have any qunlat hidden away in that brain of yours? Some Tevene?”
“Vishante Kaffas?”
Dorian’s laughter was delighted.