Chapter Text
When Brida returned from the Deep Roads, she went straight for Kirun's shop, sneaking through the Carta's tunnels. The slightest noise put her on edge; she knew she was in more danger here than she had been in the tunnels where beasts and darkspawn dwelt. Her body ached, her hands were filthy, and the ragged gash on her arm from her encounter with a deep stalker kept opening and soaking the makeshift bandage. More than anything, she wanted to wash up and lie down. But she didn’t dare take her treasure home with her and have it stolen.
She entered the shop hesitantly. Kirun had a reputation for dealing with casteless, but reputations can be wrong, and this could prove a fatal mistake. "H-hello?"
If he was surprised to see her, he didn't let on. He even looked friendly. "What have you got for me, girl?" She gave him a cloth bundle from her pack. He unrolled it and examined the fine dagger with its intricately carved handle, turning it this way and that. He thumbed the blade. "It's dull."
"It can be sharpened. It's good craftsmanship."
He raised an eyebrow. "And you know good craftsmanship?"
"Am I wrong?" The words came out sharper than she intended and she steeled herself. He could kill her, and no one would care.>
He looked her up and down. "Twenty-five silver."
She knew the dagger would sell for five times that. She also knew she could do no better. "Okay."
He shook the coins out into his hand, but he didn’t offer them to her. "How old are you?"
She tightened her hands into fists to keep her voice from wavering. "Thirteen."
Shaking his head, he closed his fingers over the money - her money, and began unfastening his trousers. "Not even ripe yet. On your knees, then."
She stared at him. He still wore the casual, almost friendly expression, but his dark eyes were hard, unyielding. She trembled.
"Come on, girl. You'll figure it out as you go."
Focusing on the fistful of promised silver, she tried to moisten her lips but her tongue felt covered in sand. Tears threatened and she fought against them as she sank to her knees.
When it was over, he pressed the coins into her palm. She didn't look at him. "I'll see you again."
She knew he was right. Back in the tunnels, she struggled to remain quiet while she spewed her guts onto the stone, bracing herself against the cool, smooth wall, struggling to avoid puking on her boots.
When she’d left home that morning, she envisioned a triumphant return, head held high, proudly providing for her family, no longer a child. She realized now that there would never be triumph in Dust Town, nor pride, and that no one would ever hold their head high. But the silver bought more food than she'd seen in weeks. It also bought ale which almost washed the filth from her mouth.
When she arrived home, her mother greeted her warmly. Brida didn't look at her, either.