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There was an old statue of Dumat close to where Rana grew up. They'd pass it on the way to the Chantry, Rana's hand in her mother's. Details worn away by time, scales sanded down by weather and wind, but still huge, imposing, and as a child, Rana had sometimes imagined it unfolding its wings and flying away.
This dragon was bigger.
Minrathous loved its draconian art, its serpents and wyrms, its symbols of Old Gods, of Old Tevinter, of old power. Perhaps it was fitting to see the city ravaged by dragonfire, but that did not exactly make it a comfort. It was her city too, for better or worse.
On the other side of Ferryman's Row, the setting sun caught a glimpse of a drawn sword through the smoke.
Her bow was gone, snapped clean in two like broken glass, but she still had her two blades, one of which she'd left strapped to her belt to keep a hand free. Rana steeled herself for another fight, only to realise a moment later that it wasn't a Venatori waveblade or sickle, but a templar broadsword.
Rana made a point of knowing the names of every templar in Minrathous, and so she knew the man's face when the smoke cleared enough for clear line of sight. She hadn't expected any other templars in Dock Town, and certainly not this one.
"Tarquin," she called across the street, and he lowered his sword when he recognised her as a fellow templar. She didn't ask if it was because he knew her face or that he, like she had, recognised a templar sword when he saw one.
Neve had asked about him once, long ago, while working on a job she wouldn't tell Rana about, and then it seemed like they'd struck up some sort of friendship. She'd assumed he'd perhaps had injuries from his time in the military, or maybe suffered other consequences of seeing too much combat, since he seemed so content to stay off the streets. He didn't look at ease, standing stiffly with the drawn sword clutched in his hand. Then again, it was hard to be comfortable in the middle of a dragon attack.
"We should return to the barracks," Rana told him. "Regroup with the others."
Tarquin's frown deepened. "If you do that, they'll order you uptown. Me, I'm going after the dragon, not away from it."
Rana gritted her teeth. She was already on such incredibly thin ice.
It wasn't something a clerk would understand. No one cared what went on in the archives. Technically she outranked him, but — he wasn't wrong. She had skirted the line too long, she wouldn't, couldn't go against her superiors, but it wasn't possible to disobey orders that hadn't been given to her.
"There's Venatori on the streets," she said. "They're taking advantage of the chaos."
"When are they not?"
"But how did they know? There's too many of them to be a coincidence."
Tarquin gave her a look, as if he was assessing her words. After a moment, she realised he was trying to remember her name.
"It's Rana," she said.
It must have piqued his memory, because he replied, "Savas." The dragon shrieked from somewhere beyond the visible rooftops, and Tarquin straightened. "It's coming back."
The dragon shrieked again, closer now, and then she saw it swoop across the sky. Rana took a step closer to the wall, the beat of her heart rushing in her ears.
It was huge. It was hopeless. She didn't know the first thing about how to fight a dragon.
The only relief in the whole mess of a situation was that it had been nearly a week since she'd last seen Neve in town, because this was exactly the kind of situation she'd get herself involved in. As soon as Rana let that thought settle, however, worry started to gnaw at her. It seemed, all of a sudden, far too likely that Neve was around somewhere.
"Have you seen Neve Gallus?" she asked Tarquin, who had followed her to press against the wall.
"Gallus? She's not here." For a moment he looked like he was about to say something more, but then it passed, face back to its usual angry grimace.
Just because she hadn't been here earlier didn't mean she wasn't around now. Neve's comings and goings as of late defied logic, but Rana couldn't well tell Tarquin about that.
With an ear-piercing scream, the dragon dove down so low she could smell it — the metallic scent of blood, and something rotten — and then a big, clawed foot found purchase on the roof above them, the noise deafening as it was torn into the air and dropped, and if Rana hadn't dragged Tarquin away from his spot, it would have landed on top of him.
She pulled him against another wall, and they watched the dragon rising higher in the air, soaring away from them. The rain picked up, plastering her hair to her scalp in no time, and in the distance, thunder roared as if responding to the loud, terrifying screams coming out of the dragon.
Pressing his back against the wall, Tarquin huffed. "Is that your blood?"
Rana looked down on herself. "Some of it," she said. "It's fine. I need healing, but the potions will keep me going."
The potions were standard templar issue and potent enough that her skin was crawling with it, but they'd done their work, dulled the aches and pains and slowed the bleeding to a trickle. It'd been a Venatori sickle, so sharp she'd barely felt it slice through her leathers, and deeper, into the soft part of her gut. And then, predictably, the tug. A fist around her heart, a fish hook in her mouth.
It had made her think about Brom.
Rana was trained to fight blood magic, as much as it could be fought without enchanted gear, but she was outnumbered and bleeding. The dragon had shrieked so loudly above them that she'd fallen to her knees, ears ringing, and she'd looked up to see a long, spiked tail and two big, clawed feet landing heavily on a rooftop above. There had been no time to move as metal and brick collapsed with a shrill whine under the dragons weight — and then the building had come down on top of them.
Her bow hadn't made it, but she'd walked away with only bruises and a few throbbing ribs. Maybe the dragon had saved her life. It wasn't worth the price Minrathous was paying.
"It's going uptown," Tarquin remarked, eyes on the darkened sky. Rain dripped from his nose and beard.
"For now," Rana said. "We should keep going toward the harbour. Someone needs to keep the Venatori off the lower streets."
Tarquin shook his head. "I told you, I'm going where the dragon is now."
"It'll run you ragged running after it."
"I have friends who'll join me."
That certainly put him in a better position than her. "Templars?" she asked, frowning.
"No."
A flash of lightning struck across the sky, followed by a thunderclap. It was close. Maybe it would drive the dragon off, though Rana doubted they were that lucky.
Meeting his eyes, Rana settled on a nod. "Good luck," she said.
He shoved another two templar potions into her hand. "You're going to be dead weight when these wear off. Find somewhere safe to sleep it off, if you're still alive by then."
Tarquin stalked off. Rana took a deep breath and went in the opposite direction.
*
She started awake, instantly alert.
For a moment Rana thought she heard the flapping of wings in the distance, the wind carrying along the rotten stink of it.
Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, she glanced up at the murky sky. Her mind was playing tricks. The alleyway smelled only of rain and ashes and smoke, and when she'd sat down to rest, it had been hours since there'd been any sign of the dragon. It hadn't returned after it went uptown, and either the Venatori on the streets had followed it, or they'd slunked back into whatever whole they'd crawled out of.
Rana closed her eyes again at the sound of footsteps, moving her hands closer to the swords at her side, keeping her breathing shallow, but then — there it was. A noise she'd know anywhere, familiar even behind closed eyes: the click of metal against Dock Town cobblestones.
Rana relaxed her hands in her lap, and opened her eyes to glimpse a silhouette through the lingering smoke in the alleyway.
"Should have known you'd be here," Rana said, and watched Neve stop short.
It took her a moment to take a step closer. "Is that why you're lying on my doorstep?"
"I'm on my way to the templar quarters. I just needed a moment out of the rain."
As much as Rana had hoped Neve was away from Minrathous today, it was a relief seeing her alive. Rana scrutinised her from where she was sitting. No doubt Neve had done her fair share of fighting, yet she looked put together, clothes pristine. Rana wished she could say the same about herself.
Neve chewed on her lip. "How bad is it?" she asked quietly, gaze surveying Rana in a way that made Rana grimace, heart sinking as she realised how grimy and unkempt she must appear.
"I'll live," Rana muttered.
"Let's get inside."
"I need to get back."
Neve gave her an unimpressed look. "Sure. I'll walk you."
It was just like Neve to be so difficult. "I'm sure you're here to have a rest," Rana said. "So go inside and sleep."
"I'm here to make sure my apartment still has four walls, but I'd love to go inside and rest. If you'll join me."
"Neve," Rana started, and then sighed, because she was in no mood to argue, especially not with Neve, who knew far too well how to get under her skin. "Don't."
"I have to, you're blocking the door."
That was a fair point, Rana supposed. With a grunt, she shifted away from the doorway, giving Neve ample space to move past. "I'll be on my way soon."
"Mm-hmm," Neve said as she unlocked the door. "I'll make us some coffee."
She slipped inside before Rana could protest.
Door ajar, Rana could hear her rummage inside, and after a little while, she returned with two steaming cups in her hands, handing one over as she sat down next to Rana on the doorstep.
"You fought the dragon," Rana murmured into her cup, not even bothering to phrase it like a question.
Neve let out an incredulous, weary laugh. "Not what I thought I'd be doing today."
Rana wished she could have seen it. She brought the cup up to her lips, blowing on it and then sipping it slowly. It wasn't very good coffee, but it was strong enough that it didn't matter. "It knocked a building over me," she confessed.
Neve gave her another look-over, hands clutching her cup. "It could have been worse," she said. "It should have been worse. Rook showed up. She's the one who drove the dragon off."
"Rook did? How?"
"It's a long story."
"And you're not going to tell me."
Neve flashed her a smile. "Some other time."
Some other time always seemed to mean never.
Sometimes Neve kept her in the dark out of a misguided attempt to keep her out of trouble. Sometimes it was to make sure Rana did not report something to her superiors. And sometimes, Rana suspected it was simply out of habit.
Lately, it had been worse. Neve spent so much time away from Dock Town that Rana no longer expected to see her on her rounds. The thought had occurred to her to launch her own investigation, since Neve wouldn't talk to her.
But Neve didn't want her to know.
Rana had always made a point to not interfere when it was clear Neve preferred to keep that distance. Sometimes she had to work hard to not put two and two together, to put all the little clues in a box inside her head and close it. Sometimes she wondered if it was the right thing to do, after all.
"Is the dragon really gone?" she asked instead of pushing for answers Neve didn't want to provide.
"For now. If it comes back, we'll be more ready."
"I suppose we ought to celebrate then."
"Wouldn't that be something?" Neve nudged her shoulder with her own. "You get the booze, I'll light the candles."
"Don't forget the cake."
"I prefer pie. Make it gooseberry and I'm there." Neve's smile faltered, and she looked down into her cup. "There were two dragons. One went here, the other to Treviso. It's worse there. I don't know how bad yet."
Rana leaned her head back against the door frame.
She'd pointedly not asked how it was that Neve came and went lately, without any signs of travelling or being on the road. She'd checked on her apartment often enough to know she was barely ever sleeping there, and yet she seemed to be around more than not.
She'd asked her weeks ago if she had a new place, and Neve had laughed and answered, cryptically, "Not in Minrathous."
How was it possible they'd already had word all the way from Antiva?
At this point, no matter how much Rana was trying to not connect the dots, she'd be fool not to know that there were things happening that went beyond the ordinary.
"Neve," she started, hesitating. "Whatever you're involved in… it's madness."
Rana hated how her voice sounded, like she was pleading for something Neve would never give. Neve looked like she was about to say something, lips parting on a breath, and then promptly changed her mind, mouth snapping closed.
"I'll tell you about it," Neve said. "Eventually."
Rana wasn't sure if she believed her. It was more likely she would simply not return one day. She'd be on a list somewhere of people gone missing without a trace, and all Rana would have would be the nagging uncertainty that if she'd pushed harder, maybe things would be different.
She cradled the cup in her lap, the heat of it warming her fingers.
With her other hand, she reached out until she found Neve's. Her hand went stiff when Rana clasped it. It seemed so absurdly intimate, and part of her immediately regretted it. The other part of her, the bigger part, held on tighter.
Staring down into her cup, at the little bubbles floating on the coffee, Rana wondered how long Neve would humour her before pulling away. She closed her eyes, and felt Neve flex her fingers.
For a moment, it seemed like she was going to let go, but then, Rana felt her squeeze back, tight, tense.
Maybe that meant she was worse off than she thought. No one would deny a dying woman a hand to hold. But — it didn't seem very dire. The potions had done their job and the bleeding had stopped hours ago. Her ribs might be bruised or broken, but it wasn't a dangerous sort of hurt, only inconvenient and cumbersome. She'd find a healer in the Circle when she got back to the templar quarters.
Maybe it was simply the sort of lapse that could be forgiven, forgotten, and pushed down into the deepest parts of her memory. The sort of thing that Neve would never dare tease her about.
The dark alley gave way to something sweeter, a haze that was warm and pleasant to sink into; hot water in a bathhouse, a warm bed, a sheltered place in the sun.
Narrow Chantry benches on cold mornings, and visiting the Wall of Light to make sure the light that her family kept for their lost ones was still lit. The Savas light was always big and bright. If she'd been less lucky today, she wondered if they'd still include her among her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Blood connections. Family ties.
Brom's light had dimmed when she was last there. The last few times she'd paid to have it relit. She still visited his parents once a month for dinner; they were good people, better than most, but Maker knew they couldn't afford to keep his light on.
Sometimes she toyed with the thought of asking Neve. Rana wasn't foolish enough to think that Neve had held him in any particular regard, but even to her, he must have left a gap, one that was placed squarely between them.
Those thoughts bled out of her, blurred around the edges, watered down by the sound of the rain, the light, rhythmic tapping that made up the heartbeat of Minrathous.
*
Rana woke to a sharp tug in her gut, one that made a pained noise slip over her lips before she could stop it, and the eerie sensation of flesh knitting together, magic she couldn't see or sense weaving an invisible web around her, until she was caught, cornered, choked.
"Stop that," she groaned when she got her voice to work, inching away from Neve's hands with a shove, the cup in her lap toppling and spilling cold coffee over her legs before falling against the cobblestones.
"Don't say you don't need it."
Neve held her hands out, as if she was trying to soothe a spooked cat, which was doubly irritating. Rana wasn't scared. But she was covered in dust, dirt and ashes, and she'd been sweating and bleeding all day. The thought of it made her neck hot with embarrassment.
"Don't touch me," she said. "I'm… disgusting."
"Do you think I'm afraid of a little blood?" Neve said, voice incredulous, eyebrows arched.
"Let me be vain about this."
Neve dropped her hands into her lap, and Rana could practically hear her grind her teeth. It was, in fact, fairly gratifying, considering how often in the past Neve had done the same to her.
"If you come in," Neve said, "you can wash off."
Rana stared up at the dark sky, thinking about the walk back to the templar quarters. On any other day, she could do it in her sleep. Right now, it would take a minor miracle. "You should have led with that," she said finally.
Neve held out her hand, and Rana took it. With a great sigh, Rana heaved herself to her feet, ribs retaliating with a crack of pain, and then she had to brace herself against the door frame for a long few moments.
Neve kept any comment to herself. She held the door open until Rana was ready to move, and then closed it behind her.
"You can take the bed," she said, and Rana went, hobbling stiffly across the room.
The cot was pushed up against the far wall, and Rana sank down on it, carefully, mindful of both her injuries and the state of Neve's furniture. A magical lamp floated on the ceiling, the light soft and yellow.
Neve pulled up her desk chair next to the bed, and fetched a basin with water and a bar of soap from the bathroom. "There's no hot water right now. Do you want me to warm it?"
"It's fine."
Rana cupped her hands in the water, and bent over to wash her face, scrubbing her fingers over her skin. It stung. Her cheek was bruised and blood came away along with ashes and dirt into the water.
When she glanced up, Neve was watching her, a frown pinched between her eyebrows. "I thought you'd have gone uptown with the other templars."
"I was on my way."
Neve's frown deepened, mouth twisting into something a little surly. Neve had never much cared for templars, and Rana sometimes flattered herself that she was the exception, and sometimes wondered if Neve preferred to simply not think about her in those terms.
Rana didn't go out of her way to remind her.
Neve turned her back, tugging her coat off and tossing it on her already messy desk, hands moving to her hat, which was fastened to her hair with an innumerable amount of pins. They made little plink noises as she dropped them one by one in an empty cup on her desk.
Casual and mundane.
It was hard for Rana to tear her eyes away from it, but she managed, looking down to unbuckle her belt and undoing the buttons hidden on the side of her leather doublet. The next step involved moving parts of her body that did not want to moved. She started sweating at the thought of it.
When she looked up, Neve had turned around, leaning against her desk.
"Do you want some privacy?" Neve asked, and then added, "Or some help?"
Under her scrutiny, Rana felt her cheeks heat up. She considered how much she would embarrass herself by attempting to remove her clothes by herself, compared with how mortifying it was to ask for help.
"If you're up for it," she said finally.
It was an exercise in humility.
She got to her feet, not without effort, and let Neve peel her layers off until she was down to her bare skin. Neve was careful, but it didn't make the experience pleasant. Rana kept quiet and endured, her ribs throbbing, and she thought about her bow, broken in half.
Her clothes were not exactly in the best condition, but she was grateful when Neve folded them over the back of the chair rather than leaving them on the floor.
There was a rag, frayed but clean, hanging over the edge of the basin, and Rana wetted it in the cold water, pressing it to her neck.
Neve hovered next to her, arms crossed. "Let me do that, or we'll be here all night."
Rana glared back at her, pushing the rag out towards her. "You're the one who asked me to come in."
"Stay still."
Neve ran the wet rag over her skin, over cuts and bruises. It was quick and efficient. It was humiliating. It was cold.
The bathhouse in the templar barracks was bare bones and cramped compared to the public baths, but it was free to use and it was always hot. Rana couldn't remember the last time she'd had to wash up in cold water. She shook, keeping her jaw clenched so her teeth wouldn't chatter.
She thought about the quickest route back to the barracks, and the many, many footsteps included. She walked them in her head, back and forth, step by step, until Neve found the tender place in her gut left by the Venatori blade, and then she lost her way.
The potions and Neve's healing had closed the wound, rendering it little but a memory. It was better than stitching, quicker, more efficient, leaving less of a scar, but sometimes the memory of it stuck around longer.
She put her hand on top of Neve's, stopping her before she could get to her side, where the worst of her pain was lodged.
"Not there," she said. "It's… sore."
Neve plonked the rag down into the basin, and grabbed the blanket from the cot, wrapping it around Rana's shoulders.
"I'm going to heal your ribs now," Neve said and Rana wondered if that had been her plan all along.
"Fine." Rana sighed. "It'll make the walk quicker."
Neve put her hand on her side, sliding it under the blanket. Her fingers grew cold as she pulled on her magic, the chill permeating Rana's skin and soothing the ache in her side. Neve shut her eyes, mouth pressing into a line, brow furrowing in concentration, and Rana felt her magic take hold, tugging, bone-deep.
"I'm not that good at this part," Neve warned.
"Comforting," Rana replied, and then she had to grit her teeth as she felt something shift. It wasn't natural and her body fought it, clenching like a fist.
She'd learned to bear a mage's healing without protest, but Maker knew it wasn't an enjoyable experience, not even when it was done by those who were trained for it. Most of the time, she preferred the potions, poultices and salves that were abundant in the barracks.
"Stop, please," she begged when she couldn't take it any more. "That's enough."
Neve did as she asked, pulling her hand out of the blanket, and Rana just breathed for a few moments. Neve looked at her, the deepened lines and shadows on her face showing just how worn out she was. Who knew when she last slept, and then she'd gone and fought a dragon, as if it was nothing.
"Will you sit down already?" Rana muttered.
For once, Neve did as Rana asked, moving to sink down on her cot.
"Well, that's all done," Neve said, "maybe we should celebrate after all."
Rana was immediately suspicious. Sometimes, if things went well, they'd go out for a meal and a drink at the Cobbled Swan or the Lamplighter. Even if they'd been open, which seemed unlikely, she didn't think that was what Neve had in mind this time.
"Breaking out your secret stash of vintage red?" she asked.
Neve crossed her legs and leaned back on her hands, an impish smile growing on her face. "Turns out, I don't have any wine. Or, well, anything else, really. You had my last coffee."
It was the sort of dogged smile Neve would give her when she'd made up her mind that she was going to do something ill-advised, and Rana was going to have to go after her, because if she didn't, no one would. Neve was never reckless, but she didn't compromise on things she cared about, not even if her own safety was on the line.
Not that she asked Rana for help any more. Not since Brom.
These days, it was always Rana who asked, persuaded, and sometimes pleaded.
Neve could be so charming when she wanted to, playful and coy. There was a lot in those words, implications and insinuation, all in the tone of her voice, and the sly way her mouth quirked.
Rana licked her lips, trying to find her voice. "I don't think that's a very good idea."
"It wouldn't be the first time." Neve shrugged. "Or did you forget?"
How could she possibly?
It had been years.
Years, and what a sobering thought that was. Years of pointedly not revisiting the topic. Years of Neve teasing and pushing and needling her in every way except about that.
Neve had moved four or five time since, but, as Rana let her gaze slide off of her, darting around the wall, the floor, before settling on her crossed legs, she realised that it might be the same cot.
She'd made a point to tuck away those memories into a hidden corner where they could gather dust. That did not mean that she was in any way likely to forget.
"If you want to sleep with someone tonight," she said, trying to sound casual about it, "there are probably better options."
"Anyone you know?"
"Neve," Rana said sternly; a warning backed up by absolutely nothing. She felt acutely aware of the fact that she was entirely naked under the blanket wrapped around her.
"We're friends, aren't we? It doesn't have to be complicated. But if you don't want to…"
"It's not that." Rana took a few controlled breaths. "I'm not… at my best."
Neve gave her a long look, and then uncrossed her legs, opening them in a wordless invitation. At least Rana thought it was an invitation. Neve raised her chin, haughty and stiff, and looked up at her.
She couldn't quite interpret the look on her face.
"What makes you think," Neve murmured, "that I only want you at your best?"
She said it like a challenge. It was rather more than Rana was willing or able to consider. It caught her in the throat, squeezing.
She moved the blanket off her shoulders and folded it quickly, placing it down at the foot of the cot. The cold air of her apartment brought her goosebumps back, but she'd get warm soon enough. Neve watched her with the sort of rapt attention that made Rana want to move slower.
She stepped between her legs, putting one hand on her shoulder, watching as Neve's lips quirked in a triumphant smirk. It almost made Rana step back again. Rolling her eyes, she bent down and kissed her instead.
Neve was tense like a spring but she kissed back with a fidgety kind of urgency. Her mouth tasted faintly of coffee but the smell of rain and smoke on her hair was stronger. Neve put her hand back over her side, where she was still sore, and Rana twitched, from the tender way it ached, from the memory of the pain, and from something else entirely.
There were things to be said. She didn't know how to phrase any of them. In another world, perhaps it would take more than Neve asking. In this one, it would probably take less.
"There's a lot I don't want to think about right now," Neve said when they parted.
It was more of an admission than Rana had expected from her.
Rana didn't want to think about the dragon either. She didn't want to worry about how many Venatori were still out there. She didn't want to trudge across town to get back to the barracks. She certainly didn't want to think about facing her superiors.
She slid down between Neve's legs. The hard floor dug into her knees. That was all right. It was a grounding sort of pain, anchoring her, keeping her head firmly in the realm of the here and now. She put her hands on Neve's knees, glancing at her metal leg.
"I'm keeping it on," Neve said, and Rana wondered if it was because she didn't want to waste any time, or if it was so she could make a swift exit. Neve put her hand on her shoulder, fingers tight on her skin. "Don't say it."
"I wasn't going to."
Neve's grip softened, and then she bent to tug her boot off, lifting her hips enough that Rana could slide her trousers down her thighs, freeing one leg and leaving them hanging off her prosthetic.
A muscle in her leg jumped when Rana urged them further apart, enough that she could press her nose to the soft skin of her inner thigh. She wasn't very wet yet, but Rana could feel her thighs tremble, and hear how her breath went shallow.
Rana shook too, the anticipation making her dizzy. She pressed her mouth to Neve's other thigh, lips and tongue tracing a line of kisses, back and forth, until she moved in to spread her wide with her hands on her legs. Neve twitched when Rana put her whole mouth on her, dragging her tongue through her folds, the taste of her making her heart pound between her legs. She kept it up as Neve grew wetter, slicker, her taste headier.
The hand on her shoulder disappeared, and when she glanced up, Neve was dragging her shirt over her head. Rana pulled back to look — her hair that had come loose and tangled in her earrings, the lines of her collarbones, her breasts, the curve of her stomach and the jut of her hip bones — and her chest felt so tight, so hot, like there was no room for air left at all.
Neve looked down at her. "I didn't mean that you should stop," she said, sounding equal parts breathless and annoyed.
Rana bit back a comment about it, and instead, yanked her leg up to rest on her shoulder, giving herself room to work her hard and fast. It was easy enough to let her thoughts slide as she dipped down to push her tongue inside of her, and then up, finding a spot just under her clit that made her squirm.
Neve's hands were on her shoulders, and Rana wondered, if pushed, if turned on enough, if she flipped the tables and managed to tease her for once, until she was shaking and desperate, if Neve would wrap her fingers around her braid and tug.
It was probably for the best that she'd never know. She didn't even want to think about what state her hair was in.
Neve's hand went to her neck instead, thumb pressing against something, a bruise or a cut, that stung at her touch. Her breath had gone ragged, and the sound of it made Rana breathe quicker too, the pull of desire turning her thoughts slow and syrupy, until the clench of Neve's hands turned into a push.
"Wait, wait," Neve mumbled, a frustrated groan spilling over her lips.
She pushed Rana further away, reaching down for her leg and pulling her trouser sleeve up, fumbling with the buckles and straps.
The moan from her throat when she yanked the leg off was more profound than whatever noises she'd made with Rana's mouth between her thighs.
She wore a sleeve of sorts — a sock or stocking perhaps — over her stump and up over her knee. The long scar on her leg emerged from the lace on the top and ran up almost all the way to her hip. Neve rubbed her hand below her knee for a moment, before she put her hand on Rana's jaw, thumb delicately running over her wet chin and across her wet lips.
"Keep going," she said, half demand, half question, arousal heavy in her voice, and rather than answer, Rana moved back between her thighs.
It was an easy thing to get lost in. The power of it always made her lightheaded. Deeper, harder, and she wanted it so much it made her clumsy, but she didn't let up until one of Neve's hands was clutching the blanket she was sitting on. The other had returned to its place on Rana's shoulder, tight enough to bruise.
"Like that," Neve hissed, and then, blunt nails digging into Rana's shoulder, "You should have gone with the other templars."
For a moment, Rana wasn't sure she'd heard her right. She couldn't very well ask, or answer, not without taking her mouth off her. She wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Nothing was more important to Neve than Dock Town, and when she wasn't around, what else was Rana supposed to do if not honour that pledge.
She buried her face deeper between her legs, held onto her hips tighter, as Neve ground against her, doing half the work herself. Rana would never tire of this, of having a woman chase her own pleasure against her. And when she felt Neve's thighs tighten around her head, she went slower, harder, making it last longer.
She knew Neve was going to come; she could feel the tension ready to snap, the rise and swell of it.
"Yes," Neve hissed and, "Ah," and then — something high-pitched and wordless, something so raw and unfiltered that Rana felt it catch on every notch all the way down her spine.
Her legs shook as she came, and Rana slowed, but didn't let up entirely until Neve stopped clutching at her shoulder, and started stroking instead, petting her softly like a cat.
Neve gave a little chuckle, deep in her throat. "I needed that."
Rana wiped her mouth on her arm and sat back, knees making a sound she hoped Neve didn't hear.
She let Neve pull her up until she could lie beside her on the cot. Neve was soft and flushed in the aftermath of her own pleasure, relaxed in a way she rarely was, in a way Rana wanted to bask in. The hair that clung to her neck was damp with sweat and Rana found her lips curling in an involuntary grin, proud of a job well done.
Neve pulled them closer together, draping herself halfway over her, the unexpected weight of her body against her sore ribs forcing a gasp out of her. It couldn't really be masked as anything but pained.
A sound burst out of Neve's mouth, almost a laugh, high-strung and giddy, eyes wide and surprised. "We shouldn't be doing this, should we?"
"I will never forgive you if you stop now."
"Fair enough. Don't move."
Neve descended, sucking kisses into her hip and thigh, and then — that sharp tongue, those lips that she sometimes found herself looking at too long. Rana knew she was soaked, and she tensed, wondering if Neve would comment about it, but Neve only moaned into her cunt, her nose pressing against her inner thigh. Maybe if she pressed even closer, Rana would be able to feel the curve of it.
Unbalanced, untethered, Rana shook against her, putting her hands over her face rather than holding onto Neve. It was better like this. She could be anyone. Someone from a poorly lit bar, someone nameless and anonymous. That's what she'd been once, after all.
No doubt Neve would find a way to blame this lapse on something tomorrow. There was a charm in it. In accepting it as a fact. It was easier than other paths, and it still got her what she wanted, or at least a shadow of it. Something to grasp in the dark, that would flee if you shone a light on it.
Neve pulled back suddenly, sitting up on her hands and knees, hair spilling forward. The lamp up on the ceiling had floated away into a corner — or maybe Neve had moved it with her magic at some point — and the dark made it impossible to make out the look on her face.
It was such an abrupt change that it made Rana's head spin.
Neve's eyes were soft, too soft, pinning her in place. It was a relief when Neve bent down to press a kiss to her mouth and Rana could close her eyes and see nothing. Her taste lingered on Neve's lips, the taste of sex, of pleasure and of how much she wanted. She moaned into it, felt Neve's smile against her mouth.
"Better?" Neve asked, brushing her nose against Rana's cheek. She pulled away to lay down next to her, When they parted, Neve laid down next to her and Rana shifted onto her good side to slot against her. Side by side, face to face.
"It wasn't bad before."
Neve reached for her knee and draped her leg over her hip, fingers trailing down toward her inner thigh. "What would you like? Inside?"
"Yes," Rana said. "If you want. I'm… flexible."
Neve made a little noise into her neck, and it took Rana a moment to realise she was laughing. "Is that so?"
"What?"
"Never in my life," Neve started, pulling back to show off the sly smirk on her face, "have I heard you use that word about yourself."
She teased her fingers over Rana's clit, undermining the glare Rana was trying to muster. "Insults?" she managed to say, forcing her voice to stay even. "Wow. You're good at this."
"Got me there. Does that mean you want me to stop after all?"
"It means I want you to stop talking."
Neve laughed, sliding two fingers just inside of her, more teasing than anything. "Then tell me what you want."
Rana arched her back, ignoring how the movement pulled at her ribs, because it made Neve move her fingers deeper, until she found a spot to rub against.
Rana grabbed a hold of her elbow. "There. Harder."
With another little chuckle, Neve relented.
Rana knew there was nothing difficult in how her body was wired, and pleasure always was easy to come by. Neve hooked her fingers just right, thumb finding a rhythm against her clit, and Rana fell into it. Her ribs burned, made worse with every roll of her hips, but she focused beyond it, leaning her forehead against Neve's and Neve let her, somehow, because sex bent every rule that mattered.
She put her hands on Neve's waist, on the curve of her hip, holding her closer, and Neve kissed her nose, her cheek, her mouth, and the ache in her side spread and turned sweet. It bloomed between her legs and in her throat, which seemed too tight to hold it. One breath traded for another, and this was, in fact, much worse than before.
It was a bad idea. It had been a bad idea from the start. It had been a bad idea years ago, but she'd lived with it. She'd have time to regret this too, and when she was rested and healed, perhaps it would seem like a smaller regret, or perhaps it would seem bigger, when nothing else hurt.
"There we go," Neve said, looking smug and turned on and better than words.
Shutting her eyes tight, Rana yielded to it, to having some part of herself rearranged and altered, to the fact that she was undeniably, irrevocably fucked.
She rode the edge of it, as if her body couldn't quite let go, until nothing could hold her back from tumbling headfirst across and down, rolling her into a long, clenching, shuddering orgasm, pain and relief rolled into one.
She kept her eyes closed until she couldn't bear it any longer. Thoughts still a jumble, the haze of sex keeping her mind slow, but she made an effort to sort herself out.
Neve slid her fingers out of her and pulled away, putting distance between them.
Rana made sure to keep her gaze locked on the ceiling when Neve pulled the blanket over her, tucking her in with meticulous care, as if she needed the physical barrier between them. Neve had been good at building up walls.
"You can go to sleep if you want," she said.
There was an implication there, one Rana knew Neve well enough to hear advertised loud and clear. Perhaps she needed less rest than Rana estimated, or perhaps she was just that stubborn, enough to keep going until she keeled over.
The sex had drained the tension from her limbs, and Rana embraced that sweet, boneless state. Behind half-closed eyes, she saw Neve reach down to massage her stump, getting herself ready to go, and then she let her eyelids drop.
*
The next time she saw Neve, Rook was in tow, along with a Grey Warden Rana hadn't seen before. He drew attention on the streets of Dock Town. Rana knew better than to ask.
"Rana," Rook said, big smile on her face. "How're you doing?"
Neve's gaze flickered up at the sky, which was clear for once. A bird cried out somewhere over the rooftops.
Rana smiled back at Rook. "I was injured during the dragon attack, but I'm healing well."
She remembered Neve's words — had, in fact, spent the last few days turning them over in her head. Ever since Neve had swanned back into town, black-and-blue and a forehead lined with stitches, Rana had found herself blaming Rook for every bruise, scratch and scar on Neve's face.
It made her feel a little guilty now, knowing it was Rook who'd turn the tide during the dragon attack.
"I don't know where we'd be if the dragon hadn't been driven off," she continued. "I know you helped with that. Thank you."
Rook looked a little surprised by her words. Perhaps her part in it was not meant to be known to the public, but Neve hadn't asked her to keep it quiet.
Neve tore her gaze from the sky to give both her and Rook a teasing look, smiling slyly. "I was here, too."
Rana had woken to an empty apartment, which was no less than she'd expected. It was easier than having to face waking up together, with everything that entailed. Her head had pounded as if she'd been hungover, and the healer she'd seen after she returned to the templar quarters was still having her drink the most vile tinctures twice a day.
Neve's spare key had been placed on top of the blanket she was wrapped up in, and she supposed she ought to give it back, if she could figure out how to do so without it being an awkward affair.
Rana looked at Neve, all that bluster and charm, confidence that would shatter like glass if pushed. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and laughed softly, watching Neve's smile falter.
"How could I forget?"