BioWare owns all but what I made up. : )

And the second installment on Ferelden's odd couple. We met Branan, meet Shadow a girl from the wrong side of Denerim. I hope you enjoy. : )

Thanks to all who have put this story and me on alerts and favs. Appreciation goes to skorge (please read her fantastic story, "Journey of a Hurlock" told from the PoV of a darkspawn. It is a great read), Anya Fira, jdpupstar, KikiAries (her story "One Year Later" is recommended too!), gaybounce, naomis8329, Morrolan, and DreGregoire.

My love and thanks to my friends and betas: Ladyamesindy, makillian, Violet Theirin, Stella Smooth, and Piceron. You guys are the best, and I am blessed to have you in my life.

And my love to you all who reviewed. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your feedback. Thank you so much!

And I again, apologize for the lateness of a chapter getting out. In my defense I had jury duty for a week, I finally got that mama kitty with a foster home (put out good energy that she gets a forever home) and work has been killer. I am so sorry for being so late. I love to write, and I love knowing that I am entertaining you all. I feel bad when I can't get a chapter out like I would like. I hope you'll forgive me.

I am such a lucky person to have such great fans. Thanks for the love and your feedback. *HUGS*

Blessings!

She was nothing more than a knife-eared daughter of a local whore. Or the flat-eared daughter of one, depending on which group you spoke to—humans or the Dalish elves.

Having fallen for a round-ear human girl when her family had traded with his clan, her grandfather had left the Dalish. He had married the girl and moved from wandering the forests to wandering with her family, traveling the roads selling goods, including his art with paint under the skin—vallaslin, blood-writing—of his people.

The girl's family had settled in Denerim when she had become pregnant and her family felt that wandering the roads of Ferelden would not be good for her. As it turned out, settling did nothing, as both she and the babe died in childbirth. The girl's father, in his grief, subsequently blamed the young elf and banished him from their sight.

Being an elf and in a city hostile to same, he found himself alone, grieving, drunk, and almost beaten to death by city guards and tossed into the Denerim alienage with the rest of the knife-ears to die.

And so Gran had found him, carried him to her family's little beaten down hovel in the alienage—a cesspit of the city, walled in to keep the flotsam of unwanted elves from bothering humans with their existence, well, until the humans needed some dirty, dangerous, or unpleasant job done that is.

Gran nursed the badly beaten elf for almost a year, healing him both body and spirit. In that time, Gran and Grandy—as Shadow and her twin Cyla called him—had fallen in love. Gran, being a head-strong stubborn elf and not one to give two piles of dung about what others thought, subsequently called off the arranged marriage with the elf from the alienage in Orlais and married Grandy instead—much to the consternation of her parents, and the Hahren at the time, and the twittering of the neighbors.

Gran taught Grandy how to survive as an elf in a city full of hostile round-ears, and he taught her as much of the ancient ways as his people remembered, including dances, language, and the art of tattooing the skin.

Gran and Grandy's union produced three children, a son and two daughters. And they had a happy life, until Grandy died at the hands of rowdy guards who came to the alienage for "entertainment."

Shadow and Cyla's father and Aunt Adaia were both murdered in that "scuffle" as well. The guards had not been punished, of course. The claimed they had quelled an elven uprising, and so all went back to its usual bone-crushing poverty.

That was until Gran, canny old codger that she was, opened a storefront on the docks to give vallaslin to any who had the coin to pay. Many of their fellow elves came to her for their tattoos, along with a goodly number of sailors and drunk noble's brats slumming it at the dockside taverns.

Mamae taught the ancient dances of the elvhen that Grandy had taught Gran, and tattooed with vines, flowers and birds by Gran herself found work at the biggest and most well-known brothel in Denerim, The Pearl, as an exotic dancer. With feathers and gems glued on to the vallaslin, Shadow's mother was considered one of several special shows for exclusive clientele, and show only, unless their mother chose otherwise, or the extra coin was high enough. If not, old Matrell, grand old dame of Denerim and owner of the Pearl, would pluck the fingers off any who broke the rule and make them eat them after her second, Sanga, cooked them over a fire first. Or in the case of the nobles and their brats, both legitimate and not, banished from the Pearl's services for life.

Shadow, and her sister, Cyla, spent their days in the Pearl's common room, or wine cellar, or even sneaking into empty bedrooms sometimes to listen at the walls and giggle at the funny noises coming from the neighboring room—provided they didn't get caught at it by Matrell or Sanga and have their ears boxed soundly.

While other children, even the elven ones in the Alienage, learned games like roll the hoop, or hopscotch, or stone toss, Shadow and her sister were learning to play Diamondback or Wicked Grace. Patrons of The Pearl thought it was cute to teach two little elven girls to play cards—at least, until they started winning.

Sometimes Matrell or Sanga would pay them to do some chores, sweep, polish, or wash glasses, wipe down tables. They would eagerly spend their money at Alarith's store—helped to exist in part due to a loan from Gran—on candy or honey sticks, jerked meat, or playing cards. Once, they pooled their monies and bought a set of throwing daggers from some down-and-out thief and assassin turned full-time drunk.

With the knives, they learned to play and bet on the game called Bodkin Johnny, which involved aiming and hitting various parts of the image of man painted on the wall of the Pearl. Hitting different parts of the man earned different amounts of points, depending on the difficulty and accuracy to hit the target being aimed for. Shadow and Cyla became so proficient that only strangers to Denerim and The Pearl would challenge them.

That was when they weren't at Gran's tattoo parlor on the docks. But the twins preferred the Pearl with all the potential goings-on and money to be had.

It was at The Pearl on a Fereldan spring day with the common room packed with the usual patrons as well as unfamiliar faces. The air was thick with pipe smoke, the smell of unwashed bodies, beer and spirits, the meal of the day offered by Matrell's ancient elven cook Tilly, and the incense Matrell lit for ambiance, or as Sanga liked to say, "To put perfume on pigs."

Matrell loved days like this, as the men and women spent their coin on food, drink, or whoring to stay out of the rain. No coin, and Matrell would have Gan, a giant wall of walking muscle and the doorman of The Pearl, toss the offender into the street—the tossing being literal, not figurative, with bets being taken, when the occasion arose, on how far and how many times a displaced patron would roll.

One of the visiting strangers in question, dressed in finery, wore the dark complexion and black curly hair of one from Rivain, yet spoke Fereldan with an Antivan accent. His appetites included not only fine clothes, but the coin to enjoy a private room with two of Matrell's best, a brother and sister who brought in much coin—they were a team act—for not just half the turn of an hourglass, but four full turns.

Their well-to-do customer was taking a break in the common room playing Diamondback with Topper, master of the Denerim's thieves guild, her apprentice Slim Couldry, a young skinny red-headed lad, Matrell, Sanga, and Gran, who was spending time with her old friend Matrell and drinking fine Fereldan Whiskey. Shadow and Ceyla were hovering nearby, watching the adults play the game.

Shadow could never pinpoint it, the exact moment when all was quiet with the gentle murmuring of conversations, or the gentle thwacks of daggers embedding in the wooden wall, or the gentle hiss of rain or the rumbling growl of thunder ceased to be the background music in the room. Not the moment when the table was overturned and the room was filled with the clinking of coins hitting the worn wooden planks of the common room floor, and the shishing sounds of daggers and swords being drawn all around the room.

The handsome stranger stood grasping the wrist of one of the poorer thieves in Denerim, Glew—poorer in skill and coin, yet rich in misplaced ego—Topper wouldn't even have the man in the guild.

The stranger kept his voice low, friendly even, yet it carried to all corners of the room. "It would be a pity for a man with your skills to lose his fingers for stealing from me, as you need all the help you can get, no?"

Glew's friends and fellow incompetents, who all together were un-affectionately called "The Three C's"—calamitous, clumsy cretins—by everyone who knew them, closed in around their mate.

Both Hael and Penvro put hands to daggers, which only made the stranger chuckle and grin, and had Old Matrell burst into deep-throated guffaws. "You lads have always been all foam and no beer."

Gran slapped Matrell on her meaty arm, nodding in agreement while addressing Glew, Hael, and Penvro. "I've seen smarter things fall out of a chicken's arse than you boys. Stealing from an Antivan Crow is about as dense a thing as you could do."

"And deadly, which will at least keep them from siring any progeny and cease giving proper thieves a bad name." Topper cocked an eyebrow while snorting in derision.

Penvro had enough sense to pale considerably at Gran's words about who the stranger was, but Glew just glared and ripped his hand from the stranger's grip. "Crow, chicken, or sodding bluebird, what's it to me, eh? Prove I stole from you!"

Penvro tried desperately to talk sense to his friend, as he obviously knew just how dangerous Glew's pick of a mark was. Hael just continued to look confused and swig his ale, no surprise there.

Glew ignored his friend and continued to glare at the stranger, who merely looked amused. One moment the stranger was standing and grinning, the next minute Penvro was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, Hael lay on a table grasping his throat and choking, while Glew found a very sharp knife pointed under his chin.

The Crow grinned at Topper. "Not just any assassin, but a Crow, dear lady. We are the best, after all."

Shadow, being the bolder of the twins, walked up and gently tugged the lace edged sleeve covering Topper's arm while holding up the heavy leather purse she had "procured" from Glew's person. The bag was of fine leather, heavy with coin, and painted with a beautiful design.

Topper grinned and took the bag, gently chucking Shadow under the chin. "Now, did you happen to find this in Glew's pocket, love?"

Shadow grinned and nodded. The assassin winked at her before using the pommel of the dagger on Glew's head, knocking the man out. He came to kneel before Shadow, putting gentle hands on her shoulders. "Thank you, cara mia. The coin's loss would have been an annoyance to be sure, but the papers I am delivering would have meant my life." He stroked her cheek softly before rising up and taking the sack from Topper.

Matrell stomped her foot at Penvro and Hael getting their attention before waving a hand at Glew. "Oi, you lot, take this pile of dung you call your friend out of here, and don't ever come back. Consider yourselves lucky you're all still breathin'."

Matrell turned toward her doorman, Gan. "Gan, see that these men find their way out, and remember their faces. They stick their noses in this door ever again, flatten them."

Gan merely nodded and went behind Penvro and Hael as they dragged Glew between them, placing a meaty hand on their shoulders and guiding them towards the door.

Matrell spoke to the stranger as she righted the table with Gran and Sanga's help. "Thank ya', lad, for not making them bleed on my floor more than ya did. Add to that it's rainin' somethin' fierce and poor Gan would get good and soaked takin' out the trash."

The Crow grinned and nodded as he sat back down and began shuffling the now replaced deck of cards. "Si, they were truly not worthy of my skills and I am here for relaxation and amusement. Killing them would not have provided either."

Shadow poked Ceyla as the adults settled themselves once more, and her twin quickly placed the small leather bags she and Ceyla had stolen from the Three C's while they were busy with the Antivan. Shadow walked boldly up to the table and began to place their booty purloined twice over on the scarred wooden surface.

Topper snorted and slapped her young apprentice Slim on his back hard enough to topple him slightly before gently tugging on one of Shadow's braids. "See here, Slim, this is why you are an upstairs man and not a pickpocket!"

Slim blushed furiously. "Indeed, my fingers are not nimble for pockets, but they are good at locks."

Gran grinned and shook her head. "So, you thought one good turn deserves another did you?" Gran winked at Shadow and Ceyla as they both nodded obediently.

Matrell snickered. "You know that now they know they can, and do it well, they will do it again. Best send them to Topper and the guild for training and protection, Gran."

"Indeed, talents should never be wasted and this is a dangerous world, best they learn how to make their way in it, no?" The assassin winked and proceeded to pull up a chair which Shadow and Ceyla knelt on together. He proceeded to deal the cards.

Gran gave the twins an appraising look. "We all have to make our way best we can, that is true." She turned to Topper. "I don't see their mam disagreeing; we do what we must. Topper, will you train them and give them the protection of the guild?"

Topper smiled at Gran and nodded, winking at the girls. "You start tomorrow, little ones. Come to the guild hall. Not too early, mind you. Morning is only good to keep night and afternoon from bumping into one another."

The comment elicited chuckles from around the table as they settled down to play cards while the storm raged on.