The afternoon sun poured in the large open windows of the cottage on the northern Antivan coast. Beyond the small front garden was a steep, narrow road that led down to the Rialto Bay. Violet, her short-cropped hair nearly as gold as the Rivaini jewelry about her throat and wrists, was practicing with one of the throwing knives that her partners had given her. With a thud, it clattered against the wall several inches away from the target, scratching the plaster, and fell to the floor.

Fenris, who was watching from the nearby window ledge, snorted.

"What am I doing wrong now?" she asked as she retrieved the knife.

"Missing the target." But he came up behind her, used his hands to guide her hips into a slightly better angle and adjusted her grip on the knife. "Your stance is better like this. Just hold it as I showed you and don't forget to let go."

"Thanks," she said drily. Once he was out of the way, she tried again. This time the knife sank into the edge of the target.

"Better," he said. "I still don't know why you aren't asking Sebastian to help you with this."

"I want to be better by the time he gets back, to surprise him. Until then I'm stuck with you, and your miserable teaching skills." She pulled the knife out of the target and prepared to try again.

Fenris ignored her commentary. "I still think I should have gone." He returned to the window seat. He pretended to be comfortable there, but she knew he chose it because it commanded the best a view of the garden gate.

"You know how restless he's been since we heard about the conclave," she said. "He'll be able to find the latest news in Antiva City." She frowned. "Have you thought — if Elthina had been alive, they might both have been there?" That had been a middle of the night realization for Violet. It made her shiver. The whole fabric of her life now could so easily have been different.

"I had thought that," Fenris answered quietly.

Violet turned back to the target, and let the knife fly. With her fear for what might have been behind it, it sailed clean and true, landing in the second circle.

"You've been practicing," a voice said from the doorway.

Violet and Fenris exchanged delighted looks. Sebastian was home. Violet dashed to the door, with Fenris following at a more sedate pace. But there was nothing sedate about the greeting they gave him. He dropped his pack on the floor and wound his arms around them both.

It was quite a while later when he said, "I almost forgot. Violet, there's a letter for you from Varric."

She frowned in concern and went to retrieve it.

"Not more fiction," groaned Fenris, covering his face in mock dismay.

Violet broke the seal and read. "Actually, no. This is very straightforward." She stopped and read it again, her brows creased in concern. "He's in Ferelden, with something called the Inquisition? And he needs my help."

#

And there ends our tale. I have some ideas about their future, but that is fodder for another story. In the meantime, you can pretend that Violet bounced down to Ferelden, left Stroud to deal with the Fear demon, and promptly moved back to Antiva and her friends, if that's what makes you happy. I won't judge. :)