Chapter Text
“Ortwin…” Ma mirrored, her expression matching the tone of her voice. The man at the doorstep— dressed far too fancy for a middle-of-nowhere farm. His robe cascaded in waves of indigo silk-- it was the kind of fabric she would see peddled at the more expensive stands in the market. His sleeves were embroidered with intricate silver runes that Ma couldn’t decipher, and his shoes that she noticed weren’t the best choice for wading through mud and animal dung. How was tthe poor man not swealtering in this heat? Let alone showing up uninvited?
His hand was held out for a moment before Ma decided that there wasn’t any harm in shaking it.
His skin felt soft to the touch, save for the scratchy fingertips that gently and firmly brushed the back of her hand. Judging by his dresswear, probably the result of long days of turning book pages.
Ma pulled away, any longer and it would feel awkward. She straightened herself and focused her gaze upwards to meet the man’s. He brushed a few strands of hair back behind his ear. He looked only a bit younger than she did, with none of the build. ‘A breeze could blow him over,’ she thought.
He smiled as if he had finally been given a gift he had been seeking all day. Acknowledgment. “Ortwin Mummert, yes! And you are?”
“You can just call me Ma.”
Oh, you must have a lovely name-”
“Just Ma, is fine.” Ma affirmed, more purpose in her voice now. The tone she would pick up when pushing against Lace wanting chopped apples in her chowder.
“Exquisite afternoon, isn’t it? The Maker sure is blessing us with her warmth today." He said, his voice reaching over the volume of clucking chickens that were freely roaming the yard. He turned his back to her to gesture to the grounds. “This is quite the well loved home. I can see you put a lot of heart into every flower,” He moved his foot to avoid the hard peck of one of the adventurous hens. “—and every animal.”
“Little point in being here, if I didn’t want to make it home.” Ma’s chest rose and dropped heavily, foot tapping a few times before settling. If this man wanted something from her, she wished he would get to it. So far there was no threat. No reason to object to him being there. Lace was around back weeding flowerbeds. Taash was still out finding out where Mary had snuck off too. Not to forget three pitchforks and several knives in the kitchen that did a lot more than support the household chores.
Besides, what queen couldn’t protect her own castle?
“Do you mind if I—” Ortwin gestured to the inside of the cottage. He took a step forward before halting his stride. He looked down at her expectantly.
The farm was near a trail becoming well known for connecting to River Crossing. It was usually the wayward templar or amateur traveling merchant who needed directions. She liked to think she prided herself on holding hospitality for those that needed it.
Her smile twitched, and Ma stepped to the side, her back against the hinges of the door. “The tea just finished, so I suppose there’s no harm. As long as you can keep your story to the one cup.”
Ortwin let out a sigh of relief and hurriedly walked in, ducking slightly to avoid the top of the door frame. Once inside he straightened to his full height, his eyes darting around the room with curiosity. He finally took a seat unprompted at the table where a tea kettle steamed. He picked up a finely sewed napkin with a studious touch, the red lining just as vibrant as the day it had been gifted to Ma by her own mother.
“Well then, Ma. I will not keep your attention for long. I know when politeness becomes tolerance and I promise to not take advantage of that.” His eyes watched her hands as she sat another teacup on the table and masterfully poured a second cup.
‘The man knows how to cut to the chase, thank The Maker.’ The steam tickled her nose, brushing against the hairs in her nostrils. Peppermint, Lemon, with a hint of ginger. Her favorite.
When she finished pouring, Ma took her place, it was not at the table, but the arm chair a couple of feet away. The cup was hot to touch, but stayed steady in her calloused hands. She blew at the surface, small ripples gently patting the ceramic. “Your tea will get cold.”
“Ma…” The honorific slipped slowly from his lips. His lips curled up into a warm smile, his gaze going from polite to self assured. “How open would you be to a deal involving your landi?”
“About as open to the idea as a nug learning how to drive a wagon.” Ma cut in immediately, leaving no room for convincing. Well, maybe to someone who looked like they would take no for an answer. His expression wasn’t dissuaded.
“Ah, Missus Ma—”
His attempted joke fell flat on her ears. “Ma. Please.”
He finally took a sip of the tea and hastily seethed through his teeth. “Ah, still too hot.” he set the cup back down. “I’ve traveled from Nevarra for two months searching for a tome, that finally I found in a quaint little village market.”
Ma’s cup lowered. Ah. That sounded familiar. ‘Lace Harding, you promised no trouble.’
“Bypassing details,” Ortwin talked with an excitement that seemed to grow as his hands gestured with his words. “This tome reveals an artifact that is rumored to be in this area. The power from this tome once harnessed and controlled— why it could make sure that your crops grow year round with bountiful fevor! That your fireplace would never grow cold, nor your livestock grow ill.”
“Thise sound like a lot of lovely tall promises, but I take good care of my garden, can start a fire faster than you can sneeze, and my animals are well fed and cared for.”
“Well—” Ortwin pushed back. “At least consider the chance for some sort of compensation. If you let me research the area further, why you would have enough gold to last you the rest of your days.”
Ma tried hard to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that wasn't a job at her age. “Listen Ortwin. I’ve been here long enough to have seen seedilings grow into oaks. All your promises are treasures I already have in hand. I suggest you find another route to take.”
“I don't think you understand, Ma.” Ortwin took a long sip from the teacup. Wisps of steam told her he still left enough to drink. “This artifact holds the utmost importance to me. I cannot leave without a promise of consideration.” His voice seemed like it was growing to plead with her.
Ma had already finished her tea.
“I cannot imagine the loneliness behind a woman living alone in the middle of a rustic rural area like this. At least consider new ways in which you can spend your days in comfort. In safety.”
Ma smiled politely, the warmth in her expression missing. It was tricky from her sitting position, but she could just barely make out Taash’s horns through the window that peered out to behind the cottage and found herself glad the kids were nearby…just in case.
-o-
There was enlightenment rooted in the smell of wet dirt. Something visceral about the feeling of sifting soil through outstretched fingers, staining the tips and getting underneath the nails. The small pricks and splinters of dried wood laced within. Hard and rough scents of budding seeds, bugs, and earth. Even the weed desired to be appreciated and held.
Harding shifted her weight, adjusting her hips so that her knees could regain their circulation.
“Zeshsaam athtaar lok ashkasaam pekapp. We have come to the store to search for melon…” Harding quietly hummed under her breath, her consonants still clumsy, sloppy even. It was embarrassing knowing that Qunlat still felt so awkward on her tongue.
‘Those crisp consonants are stupid.’
“Shokra toh Ebra” Harding repeated to herself, hearing it often enough from the qunari to get the pronunciation right.
It had been just a little over a week since she and Taash had arrived. Within a couple of days, her mother had already pulled them both into her routine. The same routine Harding had grown up and as she got older, would try and worm her way out of.
This meant setting out hay for the cattle to graze on. Feeding the chickens. Milk cows. Chopping wood. Weeding and tilling the flower beds. Giving Mary extra attention given her age. Dealing with Harold.
Taash had taken to it quite quickly and seemed to enjoy the challenge. Being given the chance to prove themselves. Taash seemed to fall into a routine where their literal strengths could be utilized, little by little.
With Taash putting so much effort into learning more about her, Harding was an eager student to know how to give back in kind. Understanding a bit of Qunlat seemed a good place to start.
It was a small farm, but there was also something warm and familiar to Harding. Most may have seen the stay as just a different setting for the same old monotonous labor. Not much of a vacation at all.
Harding found it home. And to be sharing that with someone that she loved—
Ah. Harding bit her lip. A sigh and she brought her attention back on her task.
She had been focusing intently on the small flowerbed, mostly filled with various simple herbs used for cooking. Wiping sweat from her forehead, Harding’s view was eclipsed suddenly by shadow.
“Hey. Lace.”
“Taash! You--”
Air caught in Harding’s throat. The feeling of being trapped was nothing new to her. She had been kicked by horses and pigs alike. Slapped and shoved by bandits. Made hastily determined escapes from packs of wolves looking to make a dwarven hero their midnight snack. Taken on the blight and all the hideous aforementioned demonic creatures associated. The feeling of nervousness before the reality of a situation set in was a part of the job. Part of existence.
Right now? It felt that she was being smothered gently yet firmly by the Maker herself.
Breathing was no longer necessary for her survival.
Taash was.
Countless times Harding had herded cattle. It usually took some gentle coaxing, maybe a bribe of some days old fruit or gentle pet of the nozzle. Simply hoisting them up over the shoulder wasn’t something that really ever occurred to her. Especially since some of the sheep stood about chest height for her. Maker forbid some of the goats.
The fact Taash was in fact carrying one of the more prized sheep of the flock like it was a sack of potatoes over their shoulder, while griping one hay bale between their arm and ribcage, and a second grasped tightly in their clutches— shirtless except for a loose binding around their chest to at least leave a little to the imagination— poor Harding could only stammer out a few words.
“Hey…Legs…”
Taash scoffed. Deadpan with a hint of foxish mischievousness. “You’re glowing.”
“Uh, What?”
A knowing smirk crossed their face. Taash’s muscles contracted. Their shoulders squared up, back extending upward. Their body knew it was being watched and almost seemed to delight in teasing the bystander. If there was a way to rile up a farm girl, this was it.
Taash made a small hop, hoisting the sheep off their shoulder and to the ground. A loud bleat and the sheep was on its way, back to the brethren that had stayed put.
The Qunari repeated themselves. Slow. Intentional. Confident cadence and clear emphasis on their words. A growl even dripped if you were hanging onto their words. “You're. Glowing.”
‘Oh. OH.’
Harding really had to work on not giving herself away like that. Becoming one with the Titans didn’t leave a lot of room for secrecy. Sure, there were definitely ways for Taash to put pieces together to figure out just what exactly Harding was feeling- and where. Harding still preferred she at least had some say in it. She found joy in getting her qunari partner worked up. Flustered. For someone who stood full bravado and went toe to toe with beasts— the fact that little Scout Harding could make Taash lose what few words they typically spoke disappear into the fade was a point of pride.
Most women could play coy and brush it off. When your eyes burned holes though the object of your desire and that object could smell the…impatience on you, you had little choice but to come out of hiding.
“You. Me. Barn. Now.”
Taash looked taken aback for a moment. The closer the two grew, the harder it was for Taash to tap into their overly confident airs of seduction. There weren’t any objections. It was attractive. It was enticing. It felt like a challenge.
“Hmph.” Taash dropped the hay bales which suddenly felt as if they were twice their weight and squatted low so that they could be face to face with her. There were new things that deserved their energy and strength. “So this morning wasn’t enough for you?”
“I guess it wasn’t…” Harding slyly grinned reaching forward to pull Taash’s smug face closer. Remembering the morning and how absolutely arduous it had been to untangle themselves away from their cozy bed made of straw. “So…are you going to do anything about that, Taash the dragon Hunter?”
THAT worked. Taash’s face suddenly grew very serious as they closed the gap between their lips. “You tell me.” They murmured, lips pressed against their lover’s.
When Taash pulled away, Harding expected to catch their eyes in a solent pmead for more, but caught Taash’s gaze peering just past them
“Hmm. Does Ma have company?”
Harding blinked, not expecting that to be the question Taash would ask of her after a kiss like that. “I don't think so?” She glanced over her shoulder to see a horse and carriage, some distance away from her cottage.
‘What?’
When had that shown up? Surely she would have heard a horse and wagon approach? The rickety creaks of wooden wheels on rough dirt and rock? The clomping of heavy footed hooves? At least a neigh or two?
‘This doesn’t seem right.’
Harding’s heartbeat stuttered. She stood up. Taash glanced at her and followed suit.
-o-
When Harding walked in, Ma shot them both a look of relief. It was she same look she had seen when neighboring villagers who stopped by to catch up would ask for another cup of tea or wine when the frogs and crickets began to sing together.
Taash had closely followed closely behind, arms crossed tightly and their gaze immediately sticking on the robed man at the dinner table.
Ortwin shifted and picked himself up to stand tall. A brief glance of recognition.
Taash let out an annoyed grunt. “You again?”
Harding seemed about as enthused as Taash. “Ortwin…right? How did you find us here?”
“You know him? Well I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about that. You know everyone, Lace.”
“I do not!”
Taash had taken a place leaning up against the doorframe, close enough in proximity to Harding and her mother.
“What a small, small, small world we live in.” Ortwin gracefully avoided Harding’s inquiry and held his hand out again. Still nothing. He glanced at his extended palm as if checking that it still was human.
“Ma invited me—”
“Mrs. Harding.” Harding interrupted with a hard ferocity that made the air in the room stiff. “You can call her Mrs. Harding.”
Ortwin opened his mouth and closed it again. Smart. He seemed to know when to pick his battles. His head turned with Harding as she moved to the kitchen and arrived back to the table, with a small block of cheese and a butcher knife far that was far excessive to cut it with. One fluid movement and a finely trimmed slice fell off the wedge. Harding hadn’t lost contact with his eyes the entire time.
Ortwin adjusted the cuff of his sleeves, tugging at the button that was halfway coming loose. If he was feeling intimidated, he wasn’t showing it.“Mrs. Harding…these two were the ones who roughed up the thief that tried to make off with— well, I owe them a pretty coin. I certainly intend to keep that promise.”
Harding raised an eyebrow as Ma caught her eye. When Ma shook her head, Harding gave a gentle nod. Harding’s expression only softened when she took a bite of the cheese. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Mummur.”
“Mummert. And nonsense. At least take it as a token of appreciation and remembrance. I refuse to hear any objections.” Ortwin pulled out a swollen sack of coin and sat it gently on the table, giving them a small smile before letting it go. It looked heavy. “Ma here may have pushed me away, but I’m no rube and intend to follow my word. Hopefully this amount will suffice.”
Taash let out a small growl.
Harding chopped another slice of cheese.
Ma rubbed the bridge of her nose. The last thing she wanted was to be held at some sort of ransom, but he seemed genuine in his gratitude. Hopefully the gold meant he would heed her refusal for collaboration without push back. She didn’t actually have a need for it, but there were some folks in the village who could use it. The neighbor who had been looking a bit thinner as of late…
“Well, Mr. Mummur—” Ma began.
“Mummert. Ortwin Mummert.”
“Ortwin. We have a busy day of chores ahead of us. Some of us find it hard to keep our clothes as clean as yours. Let me send you off with something for the road.” Her way of shooing away company that overstayed their welcome. She quickly moved to the kitchen. Her patience was worn thin, had frayed, and cracked around the edges.
Ortwin tapped his chin, stepping up to Taash. He didn’t seem at all swayed by their tensing muscles and the way they staggered their feet as he drew closer. “Hmm. You're an aadari, aren't you?”
Taash furrowed their brow. “And why does that matter to you?”
“It's not everyday you meet a fire breather! Why, I'm sure you're quite the threatening opponent. That thief certainly thought so. He had some colorful words about you as the guards dragged him away.”
“You looking to find out?” Taash growled, ignoring the praise. They stepped forward to close their distance until the scholar held up his hands in peaceful surrender.
“I simply just find it intriguing. As well as the curious aura coming from your…friend here.”
Ortwin glanced down at Harding who’s fake smile seemed to placate him. For a brief moment his mouth pursed and eyelids lowered.
Taash looked like they were about to throw a punch before Ma came back with a small sack. She sat it on the table before she took the butcher knife and chopped a slice. This time slowly and methodically. Ma placed the slice into the sack and moved to the doorway, standing at its threshold.
“Well, Mr. Mummur—I’m sure that tea is quite cold by now. We appreciate you stopping by.”
Ortwin stood up, doing his best to keep his gaze forward instead of on the two warriors who seemed ready to pounce if his pace wasn’t quick enough.
Taking the lunch bag from her, he finally stepped back out to the hot sun. “I promise, I’ll convince you all yet. It really is a miraculous opportunity for us all.”
“Can't say I know about any of that, but if come around, you’ll be the first to know.” Ma’s hand on his back gave him a gentle yet forceful shove and hurried Ortwin to start his pace. His horse seemed as inpatient as she was and was nudging the fence post he was tied to, seemingly uninterested in the bale of hay out in front of him.
“Should’ve punched him.” Taash griped.
“Oh, we all could have, Taash. You’re a sweetheart, but there was no need.” Ma breathed, settling back inside and sitting at her chair. She leaned over to open a basket at the chair side to remove two long knitting needles and yarn that was a deeper red than their sash.
Harding caught her mother’s glance again, studying her face. “Ma…”
“We’ll talk later about it, Lace. I’m just a little worked up right now.”
Taash stayed quiet, studying the difference in expression between the two.
Harding placed a hand on Ma’s shoulder and Ma placed her hand atop hers.
"Later, Lace.”
-o-
Clink!
“It’s just…how dare he?” Harding prepped another arrow.
Taash picked another soft stone tile and hurled it up and over the cliffs edge. Within a moment, another arrow flew effortlessly through it. The cheap arrow plummeted somewhere deep into the canyon below. Into the densely backed trees below. If Taash listened closely they could hear the rustle of branches being town apart.
Clink!
“And how weird is it that we didn’t even hear him come in? That’s weird, right? That’s not natural. He has to be hiding something. There’s no doubt he’s a mage.”
Another tile tossed. Another tile effortlessly marked by Harding’s arrow and broken.
It had really just been a casual offer. Go wreck some things. Yelling. To take anger out on anything instead of stewing in silence.
Taash remembered when the two would do this at the Lighthouse. They would throw a stone or something easily broke and Harding would pierce it with her arrows. Practice and venting. Two birds with one stone. For a while it was completely innocent. Taash took in the opportunity to pine and savor the scent of a frustrated Harding. When they made their relationship official, archery practice usually turned into releases of another sort.
“No. You’re right. It’s va-”
“Vashedan! Right!”
Taash stifled a laugh. Qunlat sounded sweet from Lace’s lips. It was really hard to focus on throwing the tiles, let alone her words when she was angry like this. All riled up and—
“Taash, could you?—”
“Right. Sorry.” Taash threw another tile into the air and it shattered with another satisfying clink.
“And he asked to just paw through the farm like some kind of raccoon? How dare he think that some old lady is just going to let him ransack her home like that? Ugh. The entitlement! School of Nines. More like…”
“School of Zeros?” Taash offered, pausing before throwing another tile. Harding had lowered her bow—one from their time at the lighthouse. A gift from Rook before everyone had parted ways.
Harding laughed stifly.
“Worst of it is, Ma was so nice to the guy! Did you see what kind of stitch she was doing? A lace stitch!”
Taash’s expression reflected their confusion. “I thought she was the one stitching.”
Her laugh was a little less stiff now. “It’s a stitch, Taash. A really hard one. She only does it when she’s really worked up about something. I just-” Harding paused. “I just don’t like holding all of this. Not knowing what to do with being so angry. How do I carry all of this?”
“You don’t need to hold it all. Let me carry some of the heavy stuff.” Taash’s smiled with a fondness that they hoped would be conveyed without having to press the words themselves. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Taash did their best to read the small changes to Harding’s expression, her lips parting ever slightly. It felt like a mix of shock. Surprise, maybe? Whatever it was it was enough to make her drop the bow to the forest bed and slump her shoulders.
Taash took their crouch to a sitting position on the ground and waved for Harding to come over to them. Once she did, Taash wrapped her into a firm embrace. The only position where Harding was tall enough to peek over the top of their horns.
It was hell to not squeeze her tighter and inhale her scent. To help soothe the anger that they knew she deserved to have. This wasn’t about their raging libido though. This was about Lace.
She still smelled good. Really good.
“It’s just not fair, Taash. The one time I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet, and trouble finds its way back to me.” Harding mummered against their shoulder.
“Well. You’ve got that right now. Peace and quiet. We’ll take him if he comes back. He wont let him lay a hand on you or Ma.” Taash reached up and ran their fingers through the hair on the back of Harding’s head, mussing up her braids.
“Taaaash…” Harding huffed, her tone sounding more like a whine a child would make when being told no over extra dessert.
“You okay? Got it all out of your system?’
“Maybe…”
Taash couldn’t help to let a wide grin sneak up on their face. Lace looked far too adorable, even when she was angry. When she let herself just exist as herself. “Give me your toughest growl.”
Harding puffed out her cheeks and gave an enthusiastic roar that made Taash laugh the hardest they had in a while. They placed a kiss on Harding’s forehead.
“Good little scout.”
Taash felt Harding shiver against them.
“Can you…say that again?”
“Later.”
-o-
“There’s something over there on the table for you, Taash!” Ma called from the kitchen, overlooking a pot of stew. The smell alone was enough to make their stomach growl.
Taash noticed a neatly folded red cloth on the dinner table, next to a steaming cup of tea.
“Ma! Did you knit this? Like, in the time we were gone?” Harding poked at the cloth before moving behind Ma to hug her from behind.
“Oh you know me. Once I get started, it’s hard to stop!” Ma’s mood seemed in higher spirits. “That sash of yours is bound to get roughed up and dirty. You can wear this one whenever you get bored of the dust in that one.”
Harding sighed, sounding relieved that at least her mother was able to decompress. She peered over Ma’s shoulder to try and sneak a spoonful of the steaming stew only to be shoo’d away by a swat from Ma’s wooden spoon.
Taash picked up the finely knitted sash. They’d always admired ones who were able to craft with as much precision as this. Crocheting or knitting would only feel clumsy in their large hands.
Once the unrolled the sash, they noticed a small embroidered creature on the end they were holding. In gold thread was probably the worst rendition of a dragon they’ve ever seen. The gesture brought up a fleeting tremor of emotion— teetering on the verge of joyful tears. Taash was experienced enough to push down the feelings and instead gave a soft grunt of amusement.
‘Yeah. Quiet is good.’