One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival | Part 4 - Necessary Risks | Part 5 - Eleven Years | Part 6 - One Step

Part 7 - Trust (AO3 Link)

Athran released a shaky breath, his skin clammy, his hands curling and flexing by his sides as he walked a few steps behind his escort. The guard was one he’d only seen once before, but it had been recently, and it had been memorable. As they moved down the hallway the large man paused, turning, a thin smile curling up the corner of his mouth.

“Well, you’re looking better than when I left you. You elves must heal up well.”

Immediately, Athran looked down, casting his gaze to the marbled floor. He was meant to show reverence to the guards as well as the guests, and the last thing he needed was to anger the man who’d already beat him senseless earlier that night. His face still ached from where he had been struck for dropping the tray, and part of him wished he’d remembered to apply the salve. It would have helped numb the area; muted the pain.

He supposed a lot had happened between then and now.

After an extended pause, the guard scoffed and turned, continuing to walk. “Didn’t think I’d get many kicks out of this job, short as it is. Should thank you for being a clumsy bastard. Thought I’d die of boredom tonight.”

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One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival | Part 4 - Necessary Risks | Part 5 - Eleven Years | Part 6 - One Step

Part 7 - Trust (AO3 Link)

Athran released a shaky breath, his skin clammy, his hands curling and flexing by his sides as he walked a few steps behind his escort. The guard was one he’d only seen once before, but it had been recently, and it had been memorable. As they moved down the hallway the large man paused, turning, a thin smile curling up the corner of his mouth.

“Well, you’re looking better than when I left you. You elves must heal up well.”

Immediately, Athran looked down, casting his gaze to the marbled floor. He was meant to show reverence to the guards as well as the guests, and the last thing he needed was to anger the man who’d already beat him senseless earlier that night. His face still ached from where he had been struck for dropping the tray, and part of him wished he’d remembered to apply the salve. It would have helped numb the area; muted the pain.

He supposed a lot had happened between then and now.

After an extended pause, the guard scoffed and turned, continuing to walk. “Didn’t think I’d get many kicks out of this job, short as it is. Should thank you for being a clumsy bastard. Thought I’d die of boredom tonight.”

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival | Part 4 - Necessary Risks | Part 5 - Eleven Years

Part 6 - One Step (AO3 Link)

The slave’s quarters remained relatively quiet as Hanin and Athran held each other, neither seeming quite willing to break the embrace, neither wanting to bring to an end something so long in the making. But, eventually, Athran’s shaking became more noticeable, so Hanin helped guide the hunter towards one of the nearby benches, setting him down, dropping into a crouch before him. Silent tears stained his flushed cheeks, and Athran swept them away hurriedly, the corner of his sleeve coming away smeared with a pale colour that left Hanin baffled for a moment before he realised what it was. Slowly, hesitantly, Hanin reached towards Athran. When the man didn’t pull away, he brushed his thumb down the side of his cheek, that strange paint coming away, revealing the faint line of his vallaslin beneath. It was also during that process that Hanin took the chance to properly inspect his clanmate’s face.

 What he saw set his blood boiling in his veins.

 “Who did this to you?”

 Athran gave a wet, disbelieving laugh, pulling away from Hanin’s touch. “Really? After all this time, the first thing you’re going to do is interrogate me?”

It took everything Hanin had not to visibly wince. He needed to slow down. Creators, he knew that, yet there he was, acting like a complete fool. One step. One step at a time.

“Ir abelas. Are you alright?”

A feeble smile flickered across Athran’s lips. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival | Part 4 - Necessary Risks | Part 5 - Eleven Years

Part 6 - One Step (AO3 Link)

The slave’s quarters remained relatively quiet as Hanin and Athran held each other, neither seeming quite willing to break the embrace, neither wanting to bring to an end something so long in the making. But, eventually, Athran’s shaking became more noticeable, so Hanin helped guide the hunter towards one of the nearby benches, setting him down, dropping into a crouch before him. Silent tears stained his flushed cheeks, and Athran swept them away hurriedly, the corner of his sleeve coming away smeared with a pale colour that left Hanin baffled for a moment before he realised what it was. Slowly, hesitantly, Hanin reached towards Athran. When the man didn’t pull away, he brushed his thumb down the side of his cheek, that strange paint coming away, revealing the faint line of his vallaslin beneath. It was also during that process that Hanin took the chance to properly inspect his clanmate’s face.

 What he saw set his blood boiling in his veins.

 “Who did this to you?”

 Athran gave a wet, disbelieving laugh, pulling away from Hanin’s touch. “Really? After all this time, the first thing you’re going to do is interrogate me?”

It took everything Hanin had not to visibly wince. He needed to slow down. Creators, he knew that, yet there he was, acting like a complete fool. One step. One step at a time.

“Ir abelas. Are you alright?”

A feeble smile flickered across Athran’s lips. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival | Part 4 - Necessary Risks

Part 5 - Eleven Years (AO3 Link)

Hanin shifted uncomfortably, tugging down the sleeve of the black and gold uniform until it sat flat on his wrist, wishing pointlessly that there was more than just a thin layer of well-made fabric between himself and a potential blade. Grunting, he gave up trying to manipulate the uncomfortable outfit, and Cassius nodded his approval, arms folded across his chest. The man seemed far more at home in Hanin’s clothes, now that they had completed the awkward exchange. Apparently, smuggling additional sets of household uniforms might have drawn needless suspicion.

Hanin suspected Launcet just thought it would be amusing to make them swap outfits.

“Well, that was fun.” Lyrene, now clad in a matching servant uniform, sighed and twisted, glancing behind her. “Does this make by butt look as good as I think it does?”

Hanin chose not to dignify that with a response. But Daimon, who was currently sliding into Ralon’s shirt across the room, grinned and gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

“Probably the point, really,” Launcet remarked with a shrug. “Not to dampen your spirits or anything, but there’s more to it than just serving food. Talveron isn’t the worst dominus out there, but he’s far from a saint.”

The flippancy with which Launcet said those words sent a chill up Hanin’s spine. He turned to the man, gaze dark with warning. “What, exactly, are you saying?”

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival | Part 4 - Necessary Risks

Part 5 - Eleven Years (AO3 Link)

Hanin shifted uncomfortably, tugging down the sleeve of the black and gold uniform until it sat flat on his wrist, wishing pointlessly that there was more than just a thin layer of well-made fabric between himself and a potential blade. Grunting, he gave up trying to manipulate the uncomfortable outfit, and Cassius nodded his approval, arms folded across his chest. The man seemed far more at home in Hanin’s clothes, now that they had completed the awkward exchange. Apparently, smuggling additional sets of household uniforms might have drawn needless suspicion.

Hanin suspected Launcet just thought it would be amusing to make them swap outfits.

“Well, that was fun.” Lyrene, now clad in a matching servant uniform, sighed and twisted, glancing behind her. “Does this make by butt look as good as I think it does?”

Hanin chose not to dignify that with a response. But Daimon, who was currently sliding into Ralon’s shirt across the room, grinned and gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

“Probably the point, really,” Launcet remarked with a shrug. “Not to dampen your spirits or anything, but there’s more to it than just serving food. Talveron isn’t the worst dominus out there, but he’s far from a saint.”

The flippancy with which Launcet said those words sent a chill up Hanin’s spine. He turned to the man, gaze dark with warning. “What, exactly, are you saying?”

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival | Part 4 - Necessary Risks

Part 5 - Eleven Years (AO3 Link)

Hanin shifted uncomfortably, tugging down the sleeve of the black and gold uniform until it sat flat on his wrist, wishing pointlessly that there was more than just a thin layer of well-made fabric between himself and a potential blade. Grunting, he gave up trying to manipulate the uncomfortable outfit, and Cassius nodded his approval, arms folded across his chest. The man seemed far more at home in Hanin’s clothes, now that they had completed the awkward exchange. Apparently, smuggling additional sets of household uniforms might have drawn needless suspicion.

Hanin suspected Launcet just thought it would be amusing to make them swap outfits.

“Well, that was fun.” Lyrene, now clad in a matching servant uniform, sighed and twisted, glancing behind her. “Does this make by butt look as good as I think it does?”

Hanin chose not to dignify that with a response. But Daimon, who was currently sliding into Ralon’s shirt across the room, grinned and gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

“Probably the point, really,” Launcet remarked with a shrug. “Not to dampen your spirits or anything, but there’s more to it than just serving food. Talveron isn’t the worst dominus out there, but he’s far from a saint.”

The flippancy with which Launcet said those words sent a chill up Hanin’s spine. He turned to the man, gaze dark with warning. “What, exactly, are you saying?”

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival

Part 4 - Necessary Risks (AO3 Link)

Once the shock of meeting their doubles wore off, Hanin had to admit, it put to rest many of the concerns he had raised during their planning sessions on the road. How Leliana had managed to find a group that fit their descriptions well enough in such a short time remained a mystery to him, but he supposed that was entirely the point. The woman had connections in all corners, it seemed. He would do well to stop underestimating her. As it stood, three of them had introduced themselves as associates of the Nightingale. The two siblings, however, had simply offered a coy smile and referred to themselves as friends.

“Oh Maker, you’re a bubbly one , aren’t you?” The blonde woman, Krissa, was sitting across from Lyrene, her scowl so fierce it reminded Hanin of a roused bear. But Lyrene just laughed, seemingly delighted by the entire affair, leaning forward in excitement in front of her double.

“Sure am! You’re going to have your work cut out for you. C’mon, let’s hear a laugh…”

The other four members of the squad were also spending a bit of time with their doubles, comparing mannerisms with varying levels of comfort. Ralon took to the idea without hesitation, and was in the process of pulling Daimon’s hair back into a style similar to his own, already laughing and joking with the man as though they had known each other for years. Connors was teaching her double, Livia, how to be silent. The other woman appeared to struggle with the concept, almost vibrating with the need to break the extended pauses with an awkward joke or question. Darren, for his part, was actually doing his best to mimic his double’s accent, the elven man apparently a Starkhaven native. The heavy syllables were impossible to mistake as they rolled off Ayden’s tongue between bouts of laughter, Darren’s face scrunching in effort before he mercifully gave up on the project and moved on to more relevant things. Cyrus seemed to take no interest whatsoever in his double, Kian, but the dark haired man had already perfected the Orlesian’s prickly attitude, his back to the wall, an irritated scowl affixed on his face.

As for Hanin, he was busy conferring with Launcet and his double, Cassius.

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival

Part 4 - Necessary Risks (AO3 Link)

Once the shock of meeting their doubles wore off, Hanin had to admit, it put to rest many of the concerns he had raised during their planning sessions on the road. How Leliana had managed to find a group that fit their descriptions well enough in such a short time remained a mystery to him, but he supposed that was entirely the point. The woman had connections in all corners, it seemed. He would do well to stop underestimating her. As it stood, three of them had introduced themselves as associates of the Nightingale. The two siblings, however, had simply offered a coy smile and referred to themselves as friends.

“Oh Maker, you’re a bubbly one , aren’t you?” The blonde woman, Krissa, was sitting across from Lyrene, her scowl so fierce it reminded Hanin of a roused bear. But Lyrene just laughed, seemingly delighted by the entire affair, leaning forward in excitement in front of her double.

“Sure am! You’re going to have your work cut out for you. C’mon, let’s hear a laugh…”

The other four members of the squad were also spending a bit of time with their doubles, comparing mannerisms with varying levels of comfort. Ralon took to the idea without hesitation, and was in the process of pulling Daimon’s hair back into a style similar to his own, already laughing and joking with the man as though they had known each other for years. Connors was teaching her double, Livia, how to be silent. The other woman appeared to struggle with the concept, almost vibrating with the need to break the extended pauses with an awkward joke or question. Darren, for his part, was actually doing his best to mimic his double’s accent, the elven man apparently a Starkhaven native. The heavy syllables were impossible to mistake as they rolled off Ayden’s tongue between bouts of laughter, Darren’s face scrunching in effort before he mercifully gave up on the project and moved on to more relevant things. Cyrus seemed to take no interest whatsoever in his double, Kian, but the dark haired man had already perfected the Orlesian’s prickly attitude, his back to the wall, an irritated scowl affixed on his face.

As for Hanin, he was busy conferring with Launcet and his double, Cassius.

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter |  Part 2 - Cope | Part 3 - The Arrival

Part 4 - Necessary Risks (AO3 Link)

Once the shock of meeting their doubles wore off, Hanin had to admit, it put to rest many of the concerns he had raised during their planning sessions on the road. How Leliana had managed to find a group that fit their descriptions well enough in such a short time remained a mystery to him, but he supposed that was entirely the point. The woman had connections in all corners, it seemed. He would do well to stop underestimating her. As it stood, three of them had introduced themselves as associates of the Nightingale. The two siblings, however, had simply offered a coy smile and referred to themselves as friends.

“Oh Maker, you’re a bubbly one , aren’t you?” The blonde woman, Krissa, was sitting across from Lyrene, her scowl so fierce it reminded Hanin of a roused bear. But Lyrene just laughed, seemingly delighted by the entire affair, leaning forward in excitement in front of her double.

“Sure am! You’re going to have your work cut out for you. C’mon, let’s hear a laugh…”

The other four members of the squad were also spending a bit of time with their doubles, comparing mannerisms with varying levels of comfort. Ralon took to the idea without hesitation, and was in the process of pulling Daimon’s hair back into a style similar to his own, already laughing and joking with the man as though they had known each other for years. Connors was teaching her double, Livia, how to be silent. The other woman appeared to struggle with the concept, almost vibrating with the need to break the extended pauses with an awkward joke or question. Darren, for his part, was actually doing his best to mimic his double’s accent, the elven man apparently a Starkhaven native. The heavy syllables were impossible to mistake as they rolled off Ayden’s tongue between bouts of laughter, Darren’s face scrunching in effort before he mercifully gave up on the project and moved on to more relevant things. Cyrus seemed to take no interest whatsoever in his double, Kian, but the dark haired man had already perfected the Orlesian’s prickly attitude, his back to the wall, an irritated scowl affixed on his face.

As for Hanin, he was busy conferring with Launcet and his double, Cassius.

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter  |  Part 2 - Cope

Part 3 - The Arrival (AO3 Link)

Blond hair, long enough to tumble past strong shoulders, long enough for Hanin to thread through his fingers as Athran lay against his chest. The hunter’s breathing was slow and calm, his eyes closed, his face tucked into the hollow beneath Hanin’s chin. There was something to be said about slow nights. They were the kind that lingered like an uncertain touch, reaching out yet unsure of how long to stay. How long to hold on. Instinctively, Hanin shifted, tightening the arm he had draped around Athran’s waist, drawing the man closer. Athran murmured something in his sleep, but did not wake, choosing instead to nestle against Hanin and welcome the shared warmth.

Slow nights were difficult to come by. Perhaps that was why Hanin had grown to love them so much.

The sound of a horn startled Hanin from his reverie, his horse skipping a step forward as he accidentally jerked the reins. Glancing about, adrenaline spiking at potential trouble, Hanin waited for an additional signal. One that would tell him what to do.

“No need for alarm.” A deep, almost melodic voice sounded to Hanin’s right, drawing his attention across to Tahl. The Avvar was dressed in his usual furs and leathers, although a somewhat lighter version than was typical, given the warmer climate. “The forward scout has spotted your city. Perivantium.”

Sure enough, as Tahl finished his sentence, two short blasts from the horn set the procession of soldiers and representatives at ease, postures immediately relaxing in saddles, hands drifting away from the hilts of blades. Their destination had been sighted. If all went well, they would arrive by nightfall at where the meeting was to be held.

The estate of altus Talveron Idaris.

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One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter  |  Part 2 - Cope

Part 3 - The Arrival (AO3 Link)

Blond hair, long enough to tumble past strong shoulders, long enough for Hanin to thread through his fingers as Athran lay against his chest. The hunter’s breathing was slow and calm, his eyes closed, his face tucked into the hollow beneath Hanin’s chin. There was something to be said about slow nights. They were the kind that lingered like an uncertain touch, reaching out yet unsure of how long to stay. How long to hold on. Instinctively, Hanin shifted, tightening the arm he had draped around Athran’s waist, drawing the man closer. Athran murmured something in his sleep, but did not wake, choosing instead to nestle against Hanin and welcome the shared warmth.

Slow nights were difficult to come by. Perhaps that was why Hanin had grown to love them so much.

The sound of a horn startled Hanin from his reverie, his horse skipping a step forward as he accidentally jerked the reins. Glancing about, adrenaline spiking at potential trouble, Hanin waited for an additional signal. One that would tell him what to do.

“No need for alarm.” A deep, almost melodic voice sounded to Hanin’s right, drawing his attention across to Tahl. The Avvar was dressed in his usual furs and leathers, although a somewhat lighter version than was typical, given the warmer climate. “The forward scout has spotted your city. Perivantium.”

Sure enough, as Tahl finished his sentence, two short blasts from the horn set the procession of soldiers and representatives at ease, postures immediately relaxing in saddles, hands drifting away from the hilts of blades. Their destination had been sighted. If all went well, they would arrive by nightfall at where the meeting was to be held.

The estate of altus Talveron Idaris.

Keep reading

One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter

Part 2 - Cope (AO3 Link)

The week moved so slowly Hanin thought he might go mad. His routine, which had once brought him the comfort of familiarity, suddenly became an arduous chore, each step taking too long to complete, each piece not quite fitting into its proper place. Morning training with the squad passed in a blur, the rest of the day little more than a series of back-and-forth pacing, the letter in his pocket a weight he could not ignore. Meetings occurred, majority of which he was invited to attend. Majority of which he had no memory of once they adjourned. Frustration followed, knowing they were important. Frustration remained, knowing that didn’t seem to matter.

It was the day before their scheduled departure that Hanin was summoned to Riven’s personal quarters.

He had just finished up the morning spars, giving the squad the rest of the day off to pack and ready themselves for the journey north. The usual messenger arrived, breathless and red-cheeked, although far more used to Hanin’s gruff acknowledgement than he had been on their first meeting. As a result, the exchange was mercifully brief, and soon Hanin found himself at Riven’s door.

“You asked for me.”

The Inquisitor, who had been sitting at her desk pouring over a stack of papers, started slightly, apparently so absorbed in what she had been doing she had not seen Hanin’s shape darken her doorway. “Oh, yes. Come in, lethallin.”

She rose as he entered, crossing in front of her desk, their paths meeting at the centre of the large rug that adorned the floor. They stood there for a moment, Hanin looking down at Riven, Riven’s eyes raised to meet his. There was a tension there, but neither seemed to know what to do with it. 

It was a tension of questions left unasked.

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One Last Chance

Part 1 - The Letter

Part 2 - Cope (AO3 Link)

The week moved so slowly Hanin thought he might go mad. His routine, which had once brought him the comfort of familiarity, suddenly became an arduous chore, each step taking too long to complete, each piece not quite fitting into its proper place. Morning training with the squad passed in a blur, the rest of the day little more than a series of back-and-forth pacing, the letter in his pocket a weight he could not ignore. Meetings occurred, majority of which he was invited to attend. Majority of which he had no memory of once they adjourned. Frustration followed, knowing they were important. Frustration remained, knowing that didn’t seem to matter.

It was the day before that Hanin was summoned to Riven’s personal quarters.

He had just finished up the morning spars, giving the squad the rest of the day off to pack and ready themselves for the journey north. The usual messenger arrived, breathless and red-cheeked, although far more used to Hanin’s gruff acknowledgement than he had been on their first meeting. As a result, the exchange was mercifully brief, and soon Hanin found himself at Riven’s door.

“You asked for me.”

The Inquisitor, who had been sitting at her desk pouring over a stack of papers, started slightly, apparently so absorbed in what she had been doing she had not seen Hanin’s shape darken her doorway. “Oh, yes. Come in, lethallin.”

She rose as he entered, crossing in front of her desk, their paths meeting at the centre of the large rug that adorned the floor. They stood there for a moment, Hanin looking down at Riven, Riven’s eyes raised to meet his. There was a tension there, but neither seemed to know what to do with it. 

It was a tension of questions left unasked.

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One Last Chance

I had some lovely people asking about Athran’s situation and the possibility of Hanin embarking on a rescue mission of his former lover. So, without further ado… here it is (or, at least, the first part of it).

Inquisitor Riven Lavellan and Tahl Hildessen, of course, belong to @chaitea09​ (who I would also like to thank for beta-reading this for me)!

Part 1 - The Letter (AO3 link)

Most mornings for Hanin were spent in a kind of simple routine. First, he woke, stretching out stiff muscles against linen sheets, arching until he felt his spine reach its natural limit. Rising, he would wash his face, a bowl of water ready and awaiting his attention, letting the water run slightly down his neck and chest before wiping it away with a cloth. That done, he would dress simple and clean, his shirt and trousers laid out from the previous night, ready to be slipped into at a moment’s notice. His boots were much the same, unlaced and waiting, the worn leather begging for replacement. Another thing to tend to that day.

But it was Hanin’s hair that always took the most time.

It was the only thing he could not prepare in advance. Before sleeping, he would release it from its braided knot, finding it far simpler to start afresh than attempt to resurrect a night’s worth of wear. That meant in the morning, dressed and awake, he spent at least ten minutes sitting cross-legged on his bed, his hands working away, his eyes attempting to catch his reflection in the glass of the window by his bed. Some days were easier than others. Luckily, even on the days where the sun made seeing himself nearly impossible, muscle-memory served its function.

It was during one such process, just a few moments from finishing, that Hanin received a sharp series of knocks on his door. Surprised at the frantic pace - he was unused to even being disturbed before noon now that Corypheus had been defeated - Hanin stood, fingers still working at his hair. By the time he reached the door and opened it, he had secured it in place with a final twist of his tie.

Before him stood one of Leliana’s scouts. Hanin’s expression immediately shifted into a frown and the man tensed, standing a little straighter, moving into a shaky salute.

“S-Sir Lavellan, uh, sir!”

Creators preserve him.

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