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Tarquin was well used to Ashur’s snake form by now. When he first transformed, Tarquin laughed for a solid minute. The infamous Viper was actually a cute little hognose snake with an upturned snout. Snakeshur, as Tarquin mentally called him, puffed up a little and gave the tiniest little hiss and Tarquin lost it. Ashur turned back to his human form, red-faced with his arms crossed over his chest. Tarquin had just patted him on the back, while wiping tears from his eyes, saying, “Well Ash, at least you’ve got the perfect disguise. No one will ever believe the second most powerful man in Tevinter is a harmless, adorable snake with a snub nose.”
While Ashur was embarrassed, he couldn’t dispute Tarquin’s claim, so they planned reconnaissance missions around his shapeshifting. It was handy for getting into places too small for humans or conducting surveillance in the rafters of buildings of suspected Venatori hideouts. Tarquin became his handler of sorts, not having disclosed his ability to anyone other than Shadow Dragon leadership.
This next mission was slightly riskier than before, but the potential payout made it worthwhile. While in the archives, Tarquin had heard whisperings from his colleagues regarding the recent arrival of a heavily guarded artifact. With the way they had described it, he suspected that the Venatori would come sniffing for it. Given his ungifted status, Ashur suggested Tarquin sneak him into the archives in his snake form so he could assess the artifact (and potentially steal it) himself. Thus, Tarquin found himself arriving at work with a satchel full of Snakeshur, muttering to himself, “This is not going to work,” getting an adorable, muted hiss in response.
He arrived at his desk in the archives, and set his satchel gently on the corner of his desk. He started shuffling through his backlog of work, casting a quick glance around the room at his colleagues. Oh great, Tamriel was working this shift, or Tammy the Talker as she was known. He made eye contact with her, then groaned when he saw her get up from her chair. Bracing himself for the inevitable conversation, he tried to look busy.
“Tarquin! It’s good to see you!” Her annoyingly happy voice rang through the room, “We missed you at the happy hour last week. Maybe I’ll see you at the one tonight?” She looked at him with her imitation of shy and demure.
“No, I have plans,” he answered in a dismissive tone. Annoyingly, she persisted.
“Oh but it’d be so nice to see you there, Tarquin,” she leaned her hip against his desk and placed her hand over his paperwork, “or, maybe you and I could just get drinks,” she blessedly said in a lower tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his bag shift. Trying to divert attention away from it, he put his hand on hers and leaned his right shoulder forward, hopefully blocking his bag from her view.
“Listen, while that sounds,” he grasped for anything other than irritating, “…interesting, I don’t think you’d find my company very appealing. Maybe try Davin, or-”
“Oh Tarquin,” she leaned down close to him to whisper, “I find you very appealing.” From behind him, a faint hissing noise could be heard. Tarquin silently cursed Snakeshur and hoped that Tammy the Talker didn’t hear. She suddenly leaned back with wide eyes and asked too loudly, “What was that?”
Tarquin affected his best nonchalant look, responding, “What was what?” Her eyes darted between him and the direction of Tarquin’s bag. He was still leaning forward on the desk with his head in his right hand in what had to be the most fucking awkward display of nonchalance in history, but he had to do something to block her view of his bag. Meanwhile, Snakeshur wouldn’t stop hissing.
Tammy looked at him with wide eyes, “The, the hissing sound!” She pointed towards his right shoulder and took one step back. Their colleagues were now starting to look over at them. He was going to kill Ashur for this. He racked his brain for any possible idea to get her to fuck off as quickly as possible.
“I have a… medical condition. Uh…very contagious,” Tammy took another step back at this. “That’s my… inhaler! For my uh… condition. It must be uh… leaking,” she took another step back, placing a hand over her mouth. “I should, uh…check on it.” He quickly stood up, snatched the bag, “Excuse me,” Tammy leapt backwards to get out of his way. He kept his head down and very sanely walked from the room, cradling his hissing satchel in his arms. He shut himself in the communal bathroom and ripped open the lid to his bag to address Snakeshur.
“What the fuck was that, Ash?” He snarled down into the bag. The hognose unwrapped himself from his tight coils and stopped hissing. He raised his head in an inquisitive manner.
“Oh no, you know what the fuck I mean.” Snakeshur tilted his head in an imitation of his human form. “The hissing Ash.” Snakeshur merely rolled his spine and shook out his body. Was that supposed to be a shrug? This little shit. Tarquin gripped the sides of his bag and lowered his face closer to the opening, “Now Tammy the fucking Talker is going to tell everyone about my medical condition.” Snakeshur lifted his little snub nose in the air and stuck out his tongue.
“You little shit, when we get back-” the door to the bathroom suddenly swung open, a wide-eyed Davin looking at Tarquin, who was currently hunched over with his satchel held near his face. Tarquin stared at Davin as he slowly lowered the bag and straightened up into a normal, completely rational stance.
Davin was still holding onto the door handle, his body frozen halfway into the room. “I heard yelling, I thought…” his voice trailed off as his eyes went back and forth between Tarquin’s satchel and his face.
“Yeah my uh… medical condition,” he hedged, desperately trying to come up with something, “it’s frustrating yeah? So sometimes I just need to vent. The bathroom is private enough, but obviously not the most soundproof, right? I mean, we can all hear what Lucien gets up to in here on his breaks.” Davin nodded at this and laughed a little nervously.
“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense,” he looked again to his satchel, “So everything’s alright in here?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” Tarquin waved a dismissive hand in Davin’s direction. He gave a hesitant nod in response and slowly shut the door behind him as he left. Tarquin let out a long, frustrated sigh before looking back down into his bag. Snakeshur was looking up at him with his eyes squinted like Ashur’s looked when he was smirking under his stupid mask.
He leaned back down to whisper at him, “Come on, you little shit. You’ve caused me enough problems today. Let’s go look at that artifact,” he unceremoniously flipped the lid back over his bag and if he secured it around his shoulder a little more roughly than needed, well, who could blame him?
Tarquin ducked past the door to the office and continued down the hall to the secured storage area. His position granted him access to most rooms and items, but not the room with the artifact. That’s where Snakesur was supposed to come into play. The plan seemed easy when they discussed it at the shop - Tarquin would transport Snakeshur to the locked door. He’d slither under, transform, examine the object, then slither back where they’d debrief later and plan a possible heist.
When Tarquin saw two of his armored brethren guarding the door that led to the artifact, he realized their easy plan would require some adaptation. Hoping that Tammy the Talker lived up to her reputation, he added a little limp to his gait as he slowly approached the templars. They eyed him warily.
“Hey guys. Tough shift, yeah?” He pretended to sneeze into his elbow. The templars flinched back slightly. Tarquin continued to shuffle forward. “Heard the gossip about that new item that came in. Is that what they have you poor sods guarding down here?”
The templars looked at each other, then back at Tarquin. He needed to get them to fucking move. He was going to have words with Ashur after this. He shuffled further a little more, then pretended to have a coughing fit. As he bent over, he reached into his bag to tap Ashur twice - the signal to get ready. He pulled out a handkerchief then slowly pulled himself up to pretend to wipe his mouth. The Templars looked nervously at him.
“Ser Templar, you should move along,” one said hesitatingly.
“Yeah, we’ve heard-” the first nudged the second with his elbow.
Tarquin moved within striking distance of the templars, and more importantly, the door.
“Oh it’s nothing to be concerned with. Walking’s good for me they said,” he got close enough to pretend to stumble into one of the templars, his arms automatically coming up to brace himself against his cuirass. In the scuffle, he felt Snakeshur shift from the bag. Tarquin struggled a little more just for good measure before he righted himself, the templar looked at him strangely, which he supposed was a normal reaction.
“Thank you,” Tarquin patted him on his pauldron, “I should maybe get some air, good for my condition.” He started turning to leave when a muffled scream sounded from inside the room. The templars whirled towards the door, one quickly producing keys to unlock it. Tarquin nervously looked on, thinking how the fuck he and Ashur were going talk or fight their way out of this one. The door swung open and the templars rushed inside with Tarquin right behind them.
“What happened!” the first templar demanded. A mouse of a senior archivist was standing on a chair brandishing a quill like it was a sword. She pointed a shaky finger at the floor where an adorable snake with a snub nose was currently on its back with its tongue hanging out, seemingly dead. Tarquin stifled his groan.
“The…snake, ma’am?”
“Yes! It- it appeared out of nowhere! I saw movement on the ground, screamed, and threw my inkwell at it. I think I- did I kill it?” Sure enough, there was black ink splattered on Snakeshur’s turquoise and red markings. He had to get him out of here before this escalated. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
“Ahh, I think I can help. I recognize that type of snake,” he gestured at the dead snake on the ground, “that’s the Qalaba snake. Encountered ‘em all the time during my time fighting the Qunari. Highly dangerous, even while dead,” the templars took a cautionary step back. “Their venom can still infect a person. Fortunately, I gained immunity to it, although it left me with a condition that flares from time to time.” All three people looked at him in horror. The templars took another step back while the senior archivist climbed on top of her desk.
Tarquin bent over Snakeshur and made a show of picking him up with the handkerchief he used earlier and carefully stuffed him in his satchel. Dusting his hands off, he turned back towards the other templars, and announced, “Well, I’ll just dispose of this then. Watch for any itching or uncontrollable coughing. That’s how it starts.” Leaving them to consider his warning, he left the room and headed towards the building exit. Once outside, he made his way to the courtyard and found a secluded area, hidden from view.
He flipped open the lid to his satchel and saw tiny, slitted eyes staring back up at him.
“Alright ya bastard, I’m calling this off. Now change back and get out of here so I can scrape my dignity off the floor.” Snakeshur tilted his head to the side, then gave him a slow blink.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Change back!” Snakeshur shook his head and shivered slightly.
“What do you mean, no? I don’t have time to play games, Ash.” He shook his little head again. A growing realization came over him. Was he telling him no because he was a stubborn bastard, or was he saying no because he couldn’t change back?
“Fuck me,” Tarquin groaned in frustration. “Nod your head if you can change back and you’re just being stubborn,” he watched with annoyance as the little snub nose shook from side to side. “Andraste’s tits, you’re saying you can’t change back?” this time he nodded and Tarquin sighed.
“Well the job is fucking off then. We can’t get back in that room today, so we’re just going to have to play it cool and let me work long enough until I can find an excuse to leave.” Snakeshur gave a small hiss and shook his tail. “Yeah I’m as happy about this as you are. Now this time, stay in the fucking bag and behave yourself.” He shook his tiny head and his body shuddered. He attempted to burrow deeper into his satchel, but all that was in there was just paperwork. Confused for a moment, Tarquin watched as he continued to try to burrow, his little body still shuddering.
“Wait, are you bloody cold?” he stopped his burrowing attempt and gave him a meek little head nod. Tarquin raised his eyes to the sky and before he could think better of it, he picked him up, opened his tunic, and stuffed him inside. This time Tarquin shivered as he felt Snakeshur burrow deeper into his tunic, coiling against his stomach. Trying to ignore the mental image of human Ashur pressed against his stomach, he took a deep breath and made his way back to his desk.
Upon his return, he discovered most of his colleagues were gone. There was a note on his desk that read: “Ser Tarquin, it is understood that you are feeling under the weather. You are excused for the rest of your shift.” Well as long as he was still paid the same, he wasn’t going to complain. He packed up some papers for the Dragons and made his way to Docktown to get lunch. When he was close enough to smell the food stalls, he felt a little tongue flickering against his lower abdomen, his steps faltering. Once again, he tried not to imagine human Ashur with his very human tongue doing the same.
Shaking his head, he made his way to Hal’s stand where he purchased fish on a stick for himself and fried frog legs for Snakeshur. He sat on one of the abandoned docks and as discreetly as possible, tore off pieces of the frog legs, opened his tunic, and fed them to Snakeshur. They shared their lunch that way - Tarquin would take a bite of his fish, then tear off a piece of frog leg and feed it to Snakeshur, whose tiny head was now sticking out of his tunic, the rest of his body still coiled against his stomach.
Once they finished with their lunch, Tarquin leaned back on his hands with his face raised to the sky. It was a rare, sunny day and he had the day off. He was going to bask, damn it. Snakeshur mimicked him, raising his little head and closing his eyes in contentment.
Their sunbathing was interrupted by someone calling out, “Ser, you can’t sit here. Also, I think your…snake is hanging out,” Tarquin snickered at this.
“Oh yeah?” he rolled his head lazily over to smirk at the elven man, “You spend a lot of time looking at men’s snakes then?”
The man grew beet red and he sputtered, “That’s not what I-” he closed his fists in frustration, “look ya can’t sit here, so take your…snake, and move!” Tarquin laughed at him and patted Snakeshur on his head.
“Alright, alright. A man can’t even sunbathe his snake without hearing something about it.” He tucked Snakeshur back in his tunic, his tail flicking against his stomach in annoyance. He gathered his belongings and winked at the elf as he passed by.
“Well Ash, should we head to the shop then? Dorian and Mae’ll be there soon enough. I can get caught up on paperwork in the meantime.” He felt a little lick on his abdomen in response.
The day at the shop fortunately passed with much less drama than at the archive - he did not look forward to the mess he’d have to clean up tomorrow. He assumed Snakeshur napped, still coiled against the warmth of his stomach, as Tarquin sifted through the papers on his desk, decrypting Venatori ciphers and updating the financial records.
Finally, Mae arrived, followed shortly by Dorian. Before they could settle into their respective chairs, Tarquin signaled them to follow him into an empty storage room.
“We have a problem,” Tarquin started as he reached into his tunic.
Dorian quipped, “A very interesting problem if you’re about to disrobe for us. Tsk tsk. What will Ashur have to say about this?” Mae smacked his arm fondly while Tarquin just rolled his eyes.
“Yeah yeah, I was already chastised for sunning my snake,” Dorian snorted at this while Tarquin waved him off, “Here’s the problem,” and he pulled out a very sleepy Snakeshur. Looking up at the three humans with heavy eyelids, he began to coil his body around Tarquin’s arm, still seeking his warmth.
“That’s not Ashur, is it?” Mae asked.
Tarquin gave her a look, “Yeah, because I normally walk around with snakes in my clothes.”
Between laughs, Dorian asked the obvious question, “And why,” he laughed again, “why is our Viper still in this state?” Mae looked over at him in annoyance, muttering under her breath, “boys.”
“Well, I don’t bloody know. I’m not a mage now am I?” Tarquin put one hand on his hip, the other occupied by a contented Snakeshur. “All I know is when we left the archives and I asked Ashur to turn back, he indicated to me that he couldn’t. So what’s wrong with him?”
The two mages sat there, contemplating. Tarquin, meanwhile, nudged Snakeshur further up his arm. He was small, but getting heavy on his forearm. Snakeshur took that as an open invitation to burrow into his hair and drape himself around Tarquin’s neck. He patted his side absently, signaling it was ok. When he made eye contact with Mae, she had an amused smile on her face.
“Has this ever happened before?” Dorian finally mused aloud.
“No. He’s usually able to change right back.”
“How long does he usually stay in his form?”
“I don’t know, an hour or so?”
Dorian tapped his mustache, considering. “And how long was he in this form today?”
Tarquin thought back to their day and mentally calculated, “Well, we met about a twenty minute walk from the archives and he changed shape there. When I took him outside again to change, it was probably three or four hours later?” Dorian and Mae both looked at each other, their eyebrows raised.
“Do you think-”
“It’s probable.”
“But Ashur’s-”
“Mae, I’ve known him for years-”
“Yes, I know, but he’s-”
“One of the most powerful mages of our generation, I know.”
“So then-”
“Shapeshifting is very rare and from what I’ve read, only done in short stints. Three hours could do it.”
“Then what-”
“Enough!” Tarquin interrupted them, slapping his hand against a shelf, “Will one of you tell the ungifted Soparati what the fuck is going on?” Mae nodded to Dorian.
“I’m sure you don’t want to hear the particulars,” Tarquin’s glare confirmed this for him, “so I’ll spare you the details. Essentially, shapeshifting is an old and ancient magic. Not much is known, but from what is written, shapeshifters aren’t known to spend much time in their forms. I believe Ashur spent too much time in his snake form today and the spell needs time to wear off.”
“How long?”
“I haven’t the foggiest, but surely no more than a day.”
Tarquin raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief, “So you’re telling me the bloody Divine is stuck like this for possibly the next Maker-knows-how-long? What the fuck do you expect us to do, sit around, read serials, and hope he shifts back?” Dorian grinned and nodded at him, the bastard.
“Well, yes, that’s exactly what you should do!”
Mae cut in before Tarquin could do something he’d regret, “I’ll make excuses for him. I’m close with his steward who can attest to His Perfection suddenly taking ill. Dorian will handle the Magisterium. You watch over him in the meantime. He’s vulnerable like this.”
“You don’t have to tell me! He had an ink bottle thrown at him today!” Both mages' mouths dropped.
“He what?”
“Yeah long story, but the mission was a failure, but let’s wait for Ashur to shift back for the full details.” Snakeshur nuzzled his head against Tarquin’s throat at the sound of his name. He gave his head a little pat, murmuring, “I know, I know,” he felt his little tongue brush against his throat in response. The two mages observed this, sharing a look between them. Tarquin chose to ignore them.
“Alright, I’ll keep him with me, and take him back to my place. He’ll be safe there. We didn’t have a mission planned for tonight anyway, so we can go home early.”
Mae shifted subtly, signaling the end to their meeting, “I should make my way uptown to make his excuses,” gesturing towards Tarquin’s throat.
Dorian sighed, “Yes, this has been quite amusing, but I should also make preparations.” He turned to Tarquin, serious for a moment, “Keep him safe, will you?” Tarquin narrowed his eyes at him, placing his hands on his hips. Normally, he’d make a menacing figure. With a cute hognose curled into his hair, dozing around his neck, Tarquin wasn’t certain that remained true.
“Of course I will. I always do, don’t I?” Dorian smiled and shook his head at him, Mae patted his shoulder on her way out. Left alone again, Tarquin gently stroked Snakeshur’s body.
“Alright, Ash, I need to put you back in my tunic for a while, then we’ll go home, ok?” He got a gentle nuzzle against his neck and then a nudge at his chin, before Snakeshur began uncoiling himself from his neck. He slithered down the front of Tarquin’s body and once again burrowed his way into his tunic and curled along his abdomen. Tarquin forced the mental image of human Ashur snaking his way down his body from his mind, then, ensuring his tunic was closed and Snakeshur covered, he left the room.
The day passed uneventfully, along with their walk to Tarquin’s apartment. He stopped for noodle soup on the way and picked up a braised dormouse for Snakeshur. They ate their respective dinners at Tarquin’s dining table, this time with Snakeshur coiled in his hair, playfully attempting bites at Tarquin’s soup. Tarquin gently swatted him, feeding him little pieces of the dormouse.
Once they were both fed, Tarquin placed Snakeshur in his bed, allowing him to burrow into the blankets.
“Alright Ash, I’m going to get ready for bed. Stay here, so I can find you again.” Snakeshur poked his little head out from the blanket and blinked slowly at him. He figured that was enough of an acknowledgement and headed to the bathroom. He quickly bathed and changed into an old linen shirt and linen pants. Crossing his small bedroom back to the bed, he lifted the covers, looking for the little snake. He found him coiled under his pillow. He gently pushed him to the side, then got into bed, preparing to read his serial - a rare early night for him.
As Tarquin settled in, Snakeshur slithered across his shoulder and draped himself across his neck and chest. Tarquin patted his side affectionately.
“Don’t be mad at me if I roll over and crush you in my sleep.” Snakeshur nudged the tip of his chin before burrowing his little head in his beard. They passed the evening like this, with Tarquin finally setting aside his serial and doused the candle.
“Good night Ash. Hopefully we figure this out tomorrow,” he gave him one last little pat and fell asleep, his arms wrapped protectively around the little form.
In the morning, Tarquin woke to a much heavier presence against his neck and chest. Reaching blindly to check on the little snake, his hand encountered warm skin instead, human skin. His hand froze as his brain finally caught up to the situation. Ashur was back in his human form again, but was still curled around Tarquin. His arm was wrapped tightly around his shoulder, his face pressed into his neck - he had even wrapped a leg between Tarquin’s. Ashur, like his snake form, coiled around Tarquin and both of Tarquin’s arms remained wrapped around his decidedly much larger form.
Not wanting to wake the man, but also not wanting this to be any more awkward than it was - wait, was Ashur naked? Well that was going to be a problem. He willed his mind to dismiss all thoughts of a warm, naked, Ashur curled around him, trying to think of anything else - requisition forms, guard rotations, the latest cipher. This was his best friend and he was only here to protect him at his most vulnerable state, no matter Tarquin’s feelings.
He felt Ashur take a deep breath, then squeezed Tarquin’s body like he would with prey. He suddenly froze when he must have come to the same realization Tarquin had - he was no longer in his snake form.
“Good morning,” he whispered along his neck. Tarquin’s breath hitched. “You didn’t crush me in your sleep.” Tarquin huffed a small laugh at this.
“No, but you’re making a valiant attempt on me this morning.” Ashur started and tried to pull away. Tarquin’s arms moved before his brain could and pulled him back to his chest. “That didn’t mean you had to move.” Ashur, peeked his head up at him, a question in his eyes. Tarquin swallowed nervously, “It’s early yet, and you have your Divinely duties excused. Stay… if you want.” Ashur took a moment to study his face, weighing the truth to his statement. He seemed to make up his mind. Quick as a snake strike, he leaned in to place a tentative kiss on his lips, then pulled back, looking at Tarquin anxiously.
“I want to stay.”
“Good, then stay,” Tarquin placed a hand on his cheek and pulled him in for another kiss. The sun peeked through the curtains and they spent their morning sunbathing, this time, with no one to chastise Tarquin about the snake in his pants.